The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

But I Don’t Really Want This, Chapter 16

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We’re going clothes shopping at the weekend. First time after my breasts healed from the surgery. Always a pleasure to go shopping, but this time it will be different for that reason.

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Successful shopping day yesterday. My favourite item is a light-coloured, tight, fluffy-looking woollen jumper, which of course shows some cleavage. That’s me wearing it in the picture above. Next week I have a half-day at work. I have some errands to run in the afternoon. I have been told to come home first and put on that jumper and a skirt and some heels and then to do those errands wearing those. My first time displaying cleavage. Bit worried, but I have no choice, I have been ordered to do it, and I do everything I am told.

I got a few other casual pieces. My boyfriend also told me to buy tops or dresses with a plunging neck line for him. I don’t think I could ever wear them, but I know he will order me to wear them and then I will have no choice. Terrified, but curious too.

And I got two bikinis too. My old one is too small now, so I got one in the same style. But my boyfriend saw another bikini in the shop that he liked. Just two triangles that sit in front of the breast, no support, not that I need it now I suppose. They don’t cover the bottom of the breast which I don’t like for two reasons. One: I have never shown underboob before, not even in private, and two: my surgery scars are still really visible. My boyfriend said that people who see me in that bikini will already know that my breasts are fake. They have that fake shape. The scars don’t give anything away. He then told me that I have to wear the slut bikini in public before I am allowed to wear the proper bikini. It’s the middle of summer! I can’t wait for the scars to fade, I want to sit by the pool.

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So my boyfriend has complete access to my account. He saw the messages that I was being sent and so here is a picture of me in the slut bikini. And he told me to tell you that, that he had complete access to my account and that he could read your messages (I never would have told you that) so he may choose to grant picture requests if he feels like it.

In the second picture you can see my scars. Not too big, but still quite red.

In response to another question, no, I don’t post pictures of my face. My boyfriend decided that this account would be anonymous (thank God!).

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OK fine, here is a close up of my new lips, before and after. Close enough that anonymity is maintained.

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Was outside today showing cleavage for the first time ever. My owner (I’m not allowed use the ‘b’ word here anymore) told me to wear heels and a short skirt too. So many people were looking. I mean, I am used to having people looking at me outside, and since my surgery I have noticed that more people look at me, but today it was a different level.

I felt unbelievably self-conscious which I hate. But I did feel good too, really girly, which is a nice feeling. And it is nice to know that I look good and that other people thing I look good (it’s great actually), but I’m not used to that kind of attention.

One guy I was talking to today was really struggling with himself not to look down. I felt so sorry for him, and I just wanted to be nice, to let him know it is OK (not OK to look, but that I understand he is struggling), but I couldn’t say that. So I just smiled extra encouragingly at him and tried to be super nice to him back. But I think that just made it worse. He looked like he was about to explode.

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Some of the comments and messages I am being sent here are really disgusting and unbelievably degrading and sexist. If you said them to me in person I would tell my owner and he would—no joke, he says so himself—make you pay. And last night my owner bent me over the desk and fucked me from behind. I was supporting myself on my elbows and he had placed an iPad in front of me. I had to scroll through the comments and read each one. He told me to write about it here. I wish it didn’t feel so good but did.

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My owner was reading my comment from Wednesday, about showing off my rack for the first time. I can’t use the ‘c’ word anymore, here or when with my owner. From now on I (or any other woman) am ‘showing off, flaunting, displaying (or any other similar word) my rack’.

Anyway, he told me that the next time I was talking to some man who looked like he couldn’t ‘handle my hotness’, that I should squeeze my breasts together with my arms, just for added effect.

I told him that that would be really unfair and that it would be bullying. He thought about it for a minute and then he agreed, and he apologised for suggesting it. He is just the best.

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I’m still sore from the weekend. On Friday we went to a dive bar. I was dressed in heels, a very short skirt, my push up bra and a very low cut spaghetti strap top, which also showed off a small bit of my midriff. My breasts were spilling out for everyone to see. So much people were staring at them.

But my owner told me to put on a lot of make-up too. He specified that I should put on ‘eye-catching’ lipstick. He told me that my lips should say, ‘yes, I may have large breasts, but I also have huge lips. Look at those too please!’

We fucked in the kitchen before we went out. After I cleaned myself up, I went back to the kitchen and checked my phone for messages. Then I discovered that he had put a lewd image of me as the wallpaper on my phone while I was cleaning myself. Me from behind, still wearing the spaghetti strap top and nothing else. Slightly bent over the counter, my vagina visible, my head turned, a smile on my lips, trying to look over my shoulder, but not seeing that he was holding a camera. I looked good.

Thank God I noticed before we went out. If I had checked when we were out and if I had been surrounded by people I think I would have broken the phone. He told me I could change the image back on Monday morning (this morning) before work.

Saturday we went to the pool and of course I had to wear the slutty bikini. I’m sure some of the women there were looking at me disapprovingly. And I caught some men staring more than once. No wonder those girls weren’t happy. I don’t want to be a homewrecker.

We had such fun there though. A few beers each, we felt good, laughing and joking about life. And every so often he would lean over and whisper in my ear how beautiful I was or how ‘hot my tits’ looked, or how I was such a slut, but that I was his slut. It felt so good. He would send me to the bar to get beers. He would tell me that I was to stand right at the bar to order, and that I should lean over it to give them a good look at my rack. Why does this feel so good?

The first time I went to the bar he opened my WhatsApp on my phone and sent bland messages to a dozen friends and family back home. My phone kept buzzing with messages from them all afternoon. He ordered me that I had to answer each message. Each time I woke the phone, I had to be careful that no one could see my phone’s new wallpaper.

We watched porn on Sunday. That was a first. Usually we watch comedies or crime shows. It was kind of enjoyable. Some of my friends watch porn, but I never did and never imagined I would, but it was nice. We laughed so much at the storyline. As ridiculous as I had been led to believe. But it was fun to allow yourself to believe it.

Then for dinner we ordered sushi. I already posted about the last time we had sushi. So this was similar, but this time, instead of lingere, he told me to wear my old, too-small bikini. But worse then that, I had to wear it upside down, so that the cups sat completely in the wrong place. The support part of the bra sat uselessly on top of my breasts and the whole lower part of my breasts below the nipples were visible. And it was too tight because the last time I wore it was for when my breasts were smaller. My breasts were squeezed underneath it.

He probably didn’t see the scars. He was smaller than me, but not that much smaller. It was a different guy from last time. He was... very surprised, but pleased. I guess he had heard the story from the other guy, but didn’t believe it. I didn’t feel as bad about it this time as last time. I’m sure one big reason was because he wasn’t seeing much more of me than everyone at the pool had seen yesterday. Though I did feel stupid wearing the bikini like that.

Large tip, as always. And I had to say the line, ‘this sushi is just so gooood’, really exaggerating the ‘good’. He laughed, did he get the joke? I mean ‘really’ get it?

Anyway, you can guess what happened after he left.

Today at work, I felt... nice. Good. This new secret life that they don’t know about, it feels good. Like I’m so much cooler than them and they don’t suspect a thing. Well, I’m sure they know how much good sex I’m having. Seems to me the kind of woman who has breast implants and lip injections on her holiday is ‘sexually active’. But they don’t know what kind of sex I’m having. That’s my secret. Our secret.

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Sushi again. Lingerie. My owner had left his wallet on the floor in the kitchen. After opening the door I had to walk away from the door in my heels, swaying all the way, towards the wallet. Then, with my back to the delivery guy, I had to bend over slowly at the hips (knees locked!) to pick it up and then wiggle my butt for extra effect. My owner made me practise that several times before the guy arrived. After the wiggle I could stand up and walk back to the door, smiling all the way of course.

It was a different guy from the previous two times. But he seemed to know what to expect. He was smiling expectantly when I opened the door. He was really sleazy. He made my skin crawl. ‘Love the view’ he said as I walked back to him.

Why does it have to feel this good? Why do I have to fantasize about this? Why was I already getting wet in anticipation when my owner said he wanted sushi.

As usual, AMAZING sex.

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I found this out today and my owner told me to post it here. I share an office with my assistant at work. She also has large breasts (also fake, I found out today too. Actually, she also has fake lips like me too, but that is not relevant to the story). She is more social with our colleagues than I am and I found out from her today that the guy that she is sleeping with (who also works there and is one of my least favourite people in this world) calls our office the melon store. I’m going to check on the ‘produce’ he texts her when he is coming to visit her in our office.

I’m not supposed to know this though. I already hated that guy, and this doesn’t help his cause. Weirdly though, I get the joke. Maybe two years ago I would have been outraged. But now, I can completely imagine my owner saying something like that to me, and me enjoying it.

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Pictures relevant. My owner wants me, a couple of days a week, to dress slutily around the apartment. Any fool can wear their underwear at home, but as you can see from his suggested images this is slightly different. I have never shopped for these kinds of outfits before. I don’t even know where to start (suggestions?) The images he showed me are useful, and I’m googling for variations on the theme.

I do really like some of those outfits. I think they would be fun to wear at home with him.

The string thong, teeny apron barely covering the breasts, tied in a cute bow at the back, and heels, all white. I want my owner to come up behind me when I am wearing this, when I am cleaning up or cooking for him or something domestic. I want him to squeeze my ass with one hand and then reach around and maul my breast with the other. To move the thong out of the way as he enters me... He is great around the house, we both cook and clean about equal amounts which is as it should be. But in this fantasy, me doing house work and him not, that adds, I don’t know what, but it adds something, something wrong, which makes it feel good.

That thick black elastic thong, that look like it could be worn over yoga pants when working out, that accentuate the shape of the ass. The light grey hoody that was cut up with scissors, so that the bottom half is missing. Just barely covering the breasts. I want him to put his hand up it as he walks by. To let me know that he was looking at me, that he was wanting me. I would feel like such a women. I do feel like a woman, but it makes me feel warm when my owner reminds me of it.

I love the slutty workout outfit. The colorful sneakers. The calf warmers that look like thick football (soccer to you Americans) socks that had the ankles cut off. The thong like the one in the last image, but bright green. Grey sports bra showing off the rack. Fluffy sweat bands on the wrists and around the head, with the hair done up in a dirty ponytail using a bright green scrunchy. Really cool. Can’t wait to see his reaction.

Again, I’m not even sure where I can begin buying these clothes. Any advise?

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I guess this weekend is going to be one of our sex-a-thons. I don’t know what he has planned yet, but he wants me to buy overly-large, cheap fake nails and lashes that I can apply myself. He sent me those. And he wants me to practise putting on too much make-up like the girls in those images. I have to be ready by 7pm on Friday. That’s when ‘it’ starts.

I have worn fake lashes before for him, but never the fake nails. I think they are horrible. He says he doesn’t like them either, but that part of the deal is that I will need to re-learn how to use my hands for some simple tasks. For example, I don’t think I would be able to pick up something from a flat surface, not easily anyway.

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I was practising my make-up this evening. I looked so stupid with it on, I think, so cheap. My owner was looking over my shoulder at the YouTube video at one stage. He told me to pause the video and pointed to one of the suggested videos in the side bar. Again it was someone wearing too much make-up, but this time it didn’t look cheap. It was extremely elaborate, artistic even. It must have taken hours to get right. Different colours which either blended into each other or that were separated by hard borders. Images attached. I suspect you would need to be a professional make-up artist to get it that good.

My owner told me that I should occasionally practise something elaborate like that. It would be cool to wear it out in a club, he said. I can see his point, it would be. It looks like a lot to learn though, it would take a lot of time. No more than once a month he promised me. I’m really going to be learning a lot about make-up.

He also said that I should read up on what the different shapes and styles of fake lashes and nails were. Then if he ever asks me to put on fakes, I can pick the right style to suit the occasion.

Can anyone recommend some good blogs or YouTube channels for all this stuff?