The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Nicole woke up feeling like shit. Mouth dry. Hungover. A glass of water on the bedside table. She drank it all and fell back asleep.

She slowly realised she was awake again. Still hungover. Not as bad. Mouth still dry. The glass of water had been refilled. Will is the best! She drank half of it and settled back into the warmth.

What had gotten into her last night? She had been so horny. She was often horny these days, but last night was different. She cringed at the thought of some of the things she had been thinking in the restaurant. She cringed at some of the things she whispered to Will in the taxi, her hand massaging his crotch outside the line of sight of the driver. She remembered the things she had said to him back home. Oh God! She stifled the long, loud groan of embarrassment as a whimper into the pillow. She didn’t want Will to hear that, wherever he was.

She had wanted him to debase her. She had wanted him to treat her like his sex toy. She had wanted him to not worry about what she wanted. Last night the only thing that she had wanted was to be whatever he wanted. More than what he wanted, what he desired, whatever he lusted after. She had not wanted to be the object of his affection, but an object of his raging, uncontrollable lust. Every time you see me, she had said, I want your lust to overpower your empathy and reason. And then I want you to fuck my brains out. Every single time.

Will had tried to change the subject and deflect her questions. She had done a lot of unusual googling and he had ignored the pictures of women that she had asked him to rate. How had the night ended? Did he command me to go to sleep? He hadn’t been as into it as her, and she had been too drunk to care. He hadn’t been as drunk. Did I turn him off? Did I go too far? Did it ruin the fantasy for him?

How had she started thinking like that? What had put her in that mood? She started thinking about when she had been alone in the restaurant. The warm, comfortable effect of the wine as she justified cosmetic surgery to herself. Better sex. She wanted better sex, this was true. Better sex for her, but also for him. For them.

Lots of things can combine to make sex good, to make it great. Knowledge, experience, sensitivity, tenderness or roughness. But desire was most important. Sex without desire, no, sex without lust is boring. And desire isn’t a binary quality. It is a sliding scale, maybe with no upper limit. More desire could bring better sex she assumed, all other things being equal. For better sex we both need more lust. I want more lust for me and I also want more lust for him. I want him to lust after me. He already does, but if he could lust after me more, then I want that for him. Men are very visual. Every single magazine article on dating that I have ever read says that.

Bigger breasts, bigger lips. Her ass had already gotten bigger. She enjoyed her new ass. She enjoyed the effect it had on Will. It was fun. It was nice to have. It felt good, it made her feel good, the extra tightness of her clothes, something that she had never had before. And they would get tighter. The last time she had demonstrated her progress to Will, he had told her to increase slightly the weights she used for her squats and half-moon leg lifts. He had told her to investigate exercises that would prepare her for pistol squats, if she couldn’t already do them. Would she have the same positive feelings with larger breasts? She believed she would.

She thought about what she had fantasized about in the restaurant. As an observer watching Will walking down the street with a faker version of herself. A more extreme version. Boobs, butt and lips. The boobs and butt in the fantasy were believable. They could be real. The lips though. People would rightly believe they were fake. In the fantasy, in her role as an observer, the fake lips had been the clue that the breasts weren’t real. She hadn’t respected this girl who had had this work done. She always adopted, or tried to adopt, a neutral opinion of strangers, but in the fantasy, she had had a negative opinion of the new Nicole. The girl had changed herself because of a man’s opinion. How could she respect that?

No! She wasn’t been fair! That was her own prejudice. Maybe the stranger had had work done, but she couldn’t second guess a stranger’s reasons. Having cosmetic surgery just to please someone else is a bad reason, but there are good reasons to have cosmetic surgery. Self esteem, unleashing the ‘real you’, etc. This negative opinion she had formed was her own prejudice. She must work on removing that prejudice, it wasn’t fair to assume the worst for someone’s motives.

She thought a bit more. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, shit. It was true that that was a prejudice that she had, a prejudice that she shouldn’t have. But in this one case, in the fantasy, her worst assumption about the new Nicole was true. The new Nicole, the soon-to-be Nicole, was doing this based on someone else’s opinion of what would be attractive for her. Fuck. Other people with this prejudice, will be right to look down on me!

The lips pictures were on the bedside table, she grabbed them clumsily and looked at them. They were attractive she had to admit to herself in a certain way. They were a mild caricature of the lips she already had. The aspects that made her lips look good, or that she thought made them look good, had been slightly exaggerated. The fullness, the pout. Both mildly exaggerated. They looked great she started to think, in the way that a caricature could look great. Pleasant to look at, but unreal. Still fake. Something unreal on a human always looked weird in real life. And they will be on my face. Always visible. Because a man wants me to. People will think negatively of me. and they will be right to do so.

Could she rescue this? She wasn’t just doing this because Will had told her. Well, she was, she had to do what he said, but part of her wanted this too. Don’t forget that. Part of you does want this. Focus on what you want. Lust. More lust equals better sex. I want that. I do. I just wish people wouldn’t know I had had surgery, and I wish that they wouldn’t think less of me for it. Or I wish that I didn’t think that they would think less of me for it. Better yet, I wish I didn’t care about their opinions. I wish I could be free of that.

Will was in the sitting room. Last night had been different. Something had gotten into Nicole. Wine for one thing. She had had four large glasses to his two, plus she hadn’t eaten as much. But that wasn’t all. She had been very enthusiastic about the surgery. He was glad about that, but the level of her enthusiasm had surprised him. He hadn’t been sure how to handle it. He wasn’t prepared for it. It was the kind of sex talk that he definitely could have been into, had he known it was coming and had prepared himself for it. Or maybe if she had been sober, he could have been coaxed around to it, they could have discussed that kind of talk before actually having it. He hadn’t wanted to say anything that she would have loved last night, but that would have horrified her had she remembered today.

She had been disappointed that he wasn’t playing along. She had spent the evening talking about what she would change for him, if it pleased him. She had wanted to know about what his deepest fantasies were, what turned him on the most, so that she could be that fantasy. As the more sober of the two, Will had deflected the questions with ease. But soon she tried other tactics. Between bouts, she would google what men found hottest. She surfed porn sites, clumsily searching for terms like slut and hot girl. She would show him the videos and images she found, asking which he liked better.

Maybe they should start watching porn together? She was always up for sex and new ideas for sex these days, he was sure that she would go for it. Start with milder stuff, then slowly edge the content towards a direction he was more interested in. Maybe they could make their own videos? The problem with porn was that it was never—or rarely—exactly your fantasy, at least in his own experience. It was someone else’s fantasy, or someone else’s idea of what someone else’s fantasy was. If he wanted his own fantasy on video, he should do it himself.

No, wait, hang on. He smiled to himself at his dreaming. We both have good careers. She is happy with her job. She has ambitions. I don’t really want to turn her into a porn star. He dreamed some more about the kind of things they could film together, feeling himself get hard. Shit, fuck no, I really, really don’t want to turn her into a fetish porn star.

Last night, even though he had not been comfortable engaging with her, he was still curious to watch her work, to see what she was thinking. So he never ordered her to change the subject or go to sleep or do any of the million things he could have ordered her to do that would have removed his discomfort. Eventually though, he whispered in her ear that for the rest of the evening her name was ‘cum girl’. The only sounds that she could make had to form the words ‘cum girl’, and the only words that she could communicate were ‘cum girl’ until she woke up tomorrow.

‘Cum girl’, she had said. ‘Cum?’, followed by ‘Girl?’ She tried to type something into the Google search bar, but realised that all she was typing was ‘cum girl cum girl cum’. And later as she came, she forced the noises she made into representations of those two words.

Monday. Today was the day that she had to ask for a two week holiday from work, enough time to have and recover from the surgery. Nicole was at work when her boss walked up to her desk and asked her to come with her. He brought her to the boardroom at the end of the office space where her boss’s boss was already sitting. This is either really good or really bad thought Nicole.

Well, it turned out to be really good. She was getting a promotion. She would now be an account manager in charge of five accounts. Two English men, a French woman and two Russians. As the best French and Russian speaker in the office, and thanks to her dedicated professionalism, she had been a clear choice for the new position that had been required as the firm’s number of clients grew.

The two bosses discussed the perks of the position. A higher salary in keeping with her new position and the companies wage structure. She would be given her own office, 10 days extra holiday a year, access to expense accounts required when meeting and dealing with clients, additional cash per month that she could use to ensure that she always looked the part when meeting clients.

Of course, there would be more responsibility too. If a client turned up in town she would be expected to, if necessary, cancel plans in order to cater to their requests. A client may only be in town for a short period. So it was important to give the impression of dropping everything when they arrived. As none of the clients were permanent residents in the city (though they were very regular visitors) she would not have to manage them all the time, but there would usually be something to do, and there would be times, when more than one of them was present, that she would have a lot to do. So she would be allowed to hire an assistant who would share her new office with her. She would be responsible for training the assistant for the job. They could begin the hiring process for the assistant next week. But at this Nicole interjected.

She informed them that she had been planning to take two weeks off soon, for some ‘me-time’. ‘Me-time’, that’s what Will had told her to say when people asked what she would do on her holiday. Not travelling anywhere, just taking a holiday at home for herself. She had already told the people around her desk that she would be asking for two weeks off for this ‘me-time’. They were going to be surprised when she came back.

She told her bosses that she had been planning to book the two weeks holiday two weeks from now. Would the promotion interfere with this? Not at all! Refresh yourself, come back invigorated for the challenges ahead. We can draw up the job listing for your assistant before you leave. We can then post it at the start of your holiday and when you come back you can arrange interviews with the applicants.

Finally, the promotion she had worked so hard for!