The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Chloe would be sleeping elsewhere tonight. That thought, utterly inadequate and inconsequential, floated repeatedly through Keith’s mind as he led his Conditioned high school dream girl into his secretary’s bedroom. She stood, staring blankly, while he closed the door behind her.

“Sit down,” he ordered.

She sat, a witless smile on her beautiful, empty face.

Still dazed, Keith stretched out on the bed next to her. He stroked her shoulder and then cupped her breast. She sat, oblivious to the liberty being taken. Of course—she was deeply Conditioned and functionally unaware of what was happening to her. Keith sniffed. He would soon change that, but first he needed a moment to gather his thoughts.

Cally Rush.

She had been the most beautiful girl in his class at Chester B. Arthur High School—and, if anything, she was more beautiful now than ever. Her fresh face had lost some of its dewy prettiness and had taken on a more angular, challenged aspect. He more experienced eye found her present appearance infinitely sexier. But, all in all, she was the Prom Queen he remembered. Though that hadn’t always been what had been had made Keith hot for her.

Not only had she been beautiful, she was smart too. Cally’s beauty blinded some guys to how bright she was. Keith was not one of those guys. She dazzled her teachers with her proficiency in almost all her classes, especially French, which she spoke like a native. He and Cally had been friends, but it had never gone past that. They had studied together, and discussed common interests, but his timid suggestion that they attend the prom together had brought an end to that relationship. She had never allowed him to study with her again and seemed almost disappointed that he had stooped so low as to ruin their perfect, platonic relationship. Not that she had been mean about it—he’d have relished that. She had just seemed, well, disappointed in him somehow.

The last memory he had of her had been of her assuming the center of the stage at the prom, her white gown floating gracefully around her as she was anointed the Queen of the Prom.

And here she was, some eighteen years later, looking as fresh, as tantalizing as ever.

Keith opened the manila folder and scanned the background material, bringing himself up to date on Cally’s life. Though he’d often thought of her, he had no idea whether she was married or not, what she had done following graduation, what she did for a living or even if she worked.

The thorough backgrounder told him she had gone to Middlebury, where she had excelled and graduated with a degree in French. She’d had several boyfriends while at college, but no one special. The summa cum laude degree had earned her a slot in an import/export business which she eventually parleyed into a very lucrative career in international trade. At present, she had combined her strength in the international field with her love of French as Chief Translator for the French Cultural Union, a U.N. sponsored diplomatic organization.

And she was involved with a French Charge d’Affaires named Franciose. Keith imagined her sweeping through diplomatic functions with a fresh elegance, on the arms of her cosmopolitan beau.

A perfect life.

Until now.

Keith concentrated, bringing his Conditioning ability to bear on the blonde woman. “Cally.” He found it surprisingly easy to identify and erase the Conditioning which had been imposed on her. “Cally!”

She shook her head, rubbing her eyes in confusion. She sensed him at once and clutched her chest protectively.

“Where the hell am I?” Her gazed darted wildly about the room, like a trapped bird. “Who are you?” Underneath the panic and confusion, there was a demanding, imperious tone to her voice.

“Hi, Cally. Don’t you look great! Been awhile, hasn’t it?”

She squinted, looking at him closely. “Keith? Keith Hynde? What... what have you done with me? Last thing I remember, I was getting ready for work and...". She clutched her bare chest more tightly. “Damn, I know! It’s that rape drug—ro-hypnol! Don’t you DARE touch me!” She cringed back against the wall.

Keith shrugged. “I didn’t bring you here and I didn’t rape you. You were brought here by my, uh, boss.”

Cally’s eyes went wide. “And HE raped me—the bastard! You’ve got to help me get out of here!” She looked around, sizing up the room.

Keith shook his head. “No. No, he didn’t rape you—no one did.” Not yet, anyway, he thought. He felt a twinge of guilt.

“Get me some clothes, Keith—hurry up! I’m practically naked here! How did I get in this get-up—these aren’t mine! Just what the hell is going on?”

“Those were bought for you. And you look great in them, so stop complaining.”

Cally scowled at him. “Damn it Keith—I haven’t seen you in almost twenty years and you’re telling me I look good in my underwear! After I’ve been kidnapped and brought to God knows where! And you’re telling me to stop complaining?”

Keith shrugged impassively. He felt numb. “You’ll do whatever I tell you to. You were brought here for me. You belong to me now.”

“Um-hmm.” She glared at him. “Look Keith, if you don’t want to get in trouble like your boss, you’d better start helping me get the hell out of here and cut it with THAT talk!” She rose unsteadily on her high heels and dashed for the door.

Angry, Keith reached out with his mind. “Stop.”

Cally froze.

“Come back. Sit down.” Keith deepened the Conditioning, and Cally obeyed, sitting back down beside him. Though she wasn’t cooperative, she was doing what she was told. That would suffice—she’d get used to it soon enough. And if she wanted to scowl about it, he’d let her.

Maybe.

“This is crazy. You’ve fed me some drug—”

Keith glared. “Put your arms down and stick out your chest.”

Cally did so, suddenly realizing how enlarged her chest was. She gasped. “How did... how did...". For the first time since Keith had met her, Cally was entirely speechless.

He grinned. “I like them that way. Nice and full—you’ll get to like them. Because I like them. Now, let’s talk about things. Like how hot you are.” Keith concentrated, Conditioning her into excitement.

Cally flushed. A rosy blush burst over her cheeks. “I don’t know what’s happening to me! I’ve never been like this...”

“Stand up.”

She rose. “Why am I doing everything you tell me to?”

Keith pointed to the brown couch. “Over there. Pull your panties aside—I want to show you a surprise.”

She obeyed, moving like a marionette. “My pubic hair! You shaved me?!?” It was hysterical half question, half accusation.

“Not me—the man who gave you to me. Like your tits—he assumed I’d prefer you that way.” Keith considered. “And I do. By the way, it is permanent—you’ll be nice and bare down there for the rest of your life.”

Cally’s lips moved, but no words came out.

Keith smirked. “Cally, I have always known you to be the kind of girl who enjoys sex on her own terms. You never do anything you don’t want to do and never, ever have. Let me ask you—have you ever taken a cock doggy style—like some hot little bitch in heat?”

Mute, Cally shook her head, her blonde hair waving wildly.

Keith grinned. “Bend over. And pull your panty crotch aside to make room for my cock, baby.”

“I don’t want to do this! Keith, please! You’re not like this! You’re a nice guy! You’re smart and kind and...” Notwithstanding her protests, she was obeying his command, bending over the couch now, gently pulling aside the thing stretch of material to allow him access to her sex.

“Not any more,” Keith snarled. “And don’t tell me you don’t want it either—your pussy is sopping for the taste of a cock. Now down on your chest, bitch. I want you to feel this as far up inside you as you can.” Still sporting a defiant glare she obeyed helplessly as he entered her.

And that’s when Cally felt the stars explode inside her.