The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Jeremy Drake was the worst kind of man in existence: a natural-born pessimist. For him, every challenge was a source of endless attrition instead of an opportunity of superation and, if asked to see the silver lining in anything, he would most likely reply the silver was a lie and that shit was radioactive. Inviting him to a party was the surest and fastest way to kill it unless it involved talking about numbers, colorful pie charts, and skewed statistics about how the threat of terrorism would always be on the rise unless law enforcement officials were given more and more power. His extreme views on things would definitely be cause for concern if he had any real say in the matter, but the powers that be had been thoughtful enough to confine him to a desk job where he would remain until the stack of razor-sharp paper sheets crumbled over his head, killing him on the spot. That day couldn’t come soon enough.

With the left side of his face covered in scars courtesy of a stray dog attack that had forever turned his love of animals into irrational hate at the age of twelve, Jeremy wasn’t exactly a looker. The wrinkled skin was uneven, firmly stitched together near the bridge of the nose and slightly saggy underneath, dropping into a pink lump that never seemed to stay in the same place for long. The piercing cerulean eyes still had the image of bloodthirsty teeth engraved in them. Despite that, his peers easily forgot him, unless it came to workload.

There was an upside to being the bureaucrat in the corner though and that came in the form of whispers. Always attentive to his surroundings, no secret was safe from his uncanny perceptions. A career as a snitch would have perhaps been more appropriate to his talents but not as financially secure. When the money was good, nothing else mattered.

Bittersweet soda in hand, he slurped the yellowish liquid from a paper cup and squinted at the dimly lit computer screen. His latest report was overdue and was sure to remain that way if he couldn’t make heads of what he had written in the last couple of paragraphs. His head hurt, old veins throbbing on a grizzled forehead. Thanks to a string of restless nights and visually arresting nightmares, he felt as if he had grown four decades older and was now but a slave to boredom.

“Fuck this!” He muttered, letters and sentences piling up on one another in a garbled mess. “Can anybody save me from this madness, please?”

As if eager to respond to his desperate plea, the black screen of his 6-inch smartphone lit up before playing “The Imperial March” of Star Wars fame. The ominous strings jolted him back into action yet the name displayed before his eyes was not of a savior but trouble incarnated.

“Alexandra,” he blurted, saliva whirling in his tongue. “To what I owe the displeasure?”

“Always the charmer, Jer,” she replied with a grin. “Couldn’t you have faked more enthusiasm upon hearing from me again?”

“This is not one of those days, I’m afraid.”

“When is it ever with you?”

“Are you going to take long to answer my question?” He rolled his eyes. “Because I have tons of things to do and you’re in the way...”

“Seriously, what’s wrong?” She queried, dropping the act for a moment.

“Just exhausted,” he sighed. “Things have been crazy in the office for a while now, even more so today.”

“Yeah, about that... I take it you already know why I’m calling, right?”

“Colonel Henry Gibbons...” he muttered.

“The one and only.”

“I never imagined you to be the kind of woman that has a wannabe murderer for a friend, Alexandra.”

“And I never imagined I would hear such dry sarcasm from you, Jer. Oh wait, yes I have, because you do it all the time... and the Colonel is innocent.”

“Right... well, believe what makes you happy, but you’re probably the only one that can say that without laughing.”

“I know. I’m starved for info. What can you tell me?”

“Not much... or plenty. It depends, really.”

“On what?”

“What are you willing to do for me this time around?”

Alexandra giggled as he veered the conversation into familiar territories. Hers and Jeremy’s story was a fun one for when they had met, he had tried to covertly hypnotize her. Despite sucking at it, his audacity hadn’t gone unnoticed. He still remembered the thirty days of forced chastity she had him endure after two Vodka Martinis and so did she.

“I don’t do things for you,” she noted. “I do things to you when I’m in the mood.”

“Are you saying you’re not?”

“Perhaps it’s not one of those days...”

Jeremy laid down the soda and rubbed his chin. There she was again, mirroring him, using his own words as a weapon. He saved the report he had been working on and left his work station to continue the game on the move.

“You want something from me, you pay for it, that’s the deal.” He teased.

“Or I don’t give you a thing but leave you hanging in the brink of ecstasy until you beg me to take whatever I want. However, since that’s what you want...”

“When did I say that?”

“When you started masturbating for me.”

“I haven’t.”

“You will.”

Jeremy suppressed a smirk as he negotiated a path through a myriad of unattended desks. He took a hard turn at the coffee machine and passed by an open lounge before dashing through a series of similar doors that led to a flight of stairs. Electronic eyes peeked at every corner, the curious cameras tracking the already visible bulge in his dark grey pants. Picking up the pace, he headed for the rooftop.

“You can’t control all men through their cocks, you know?”

“Yes, I’ve heard that myth before. One day, perhaps a man will be born that lives up to it. One day, but not today. How hard are you right now, Jer?”

Not hard enough but getting there. The shaft brushed against the half-open zipper, a fleshy worm burrowing out of its unrequited confinement.

“It will only get harder. And harder. And harder. But you already knew that. You always grow hard when you listen to my voice, don’t you?”

True, a fact, an undeniable certainty. It hadn’t been so the first time yet resistance had waned with every innuendo. In his mind’s eye, there were three ways for a woman to get intel out of a man: the easy way, just ask and receive; the hard way, ignore and forget until he comes kneeling at her feet, and the fun way which incorporated the previous two with subtle brainwashing cues coming together in a symphony of lust. Both loved the latter way too much, but only she knew how to make it work.

After two flights of stairs, he stopped, head leaning against the railing. The emergency door was straight ahead, the dull routine three stories down.

“You’re not getting your way with me this time, Alexandra,” he retorted. “My rules, not yours.”

“I think you mean, I rule, not you.”

“You need to do better than that.”

“I thought I was already doing great.... Well, suit yourself...” She hung up.

Jeremy looked at the smart device in disbelief. No way! It was an absurd tease, one she had even announced beforehand but to go through with it after he had just eluded security to better engage with her desires? He sat by the door, feeling the cold metal against his skin, her private number only a click away. He called her back.

“Hi... and bye!” She hung up again.

With a surge of anger at his fingertips, he tried once more.

“No one’s home. BEEP!” She laughed before hanging up again.

“Fuck!” Jeremy shouted, the echo of his distraught voice booming across the corridor. Fresh blood engorged his ball sac as he grew harder. He swallowed his pride for another feeble attempt.

“You’re being a pest now, you know that?” She randomly spurted. “Stop and hang up.”

“Please stop doing this,” he begged.

“No. You stop. Bye!”

Third time’s the charm, and charm equals addiction. Jeremy crossed his legs to curb the discomfort of his massive erection yet it raged on, harder, harder, harder. “Just like she said,” he mumbled.

Trembling, he went for the fourth round.

“Please don’t hang up this time. What do you want to know?”

“You again?! I want nothing from you, Jeremy,” she replied, nonchalantly.

“Huh? What about Colonel Gibbons?”

“What about him?”

“I don’t know where they’ve taken him after the UN debacle but I know who’s officially in charge of the investigation at least.”

“Go on...” she urged him before adding... “harder.”

Jeremy’s genitals convulsed as the words came crashing. He lapped at the zipper, two fingers touching the tip of his purplish cock.

“Special Agent David Simms is the man you’re after.”

“Harder. Simms, huh? Don’t tell me he’s...”

“... connected to Henry Simms? You bet, they’re stepbrothers.”

“I didn’t know he had a brother, let alone a stepbrother. What else? Harder!”

The zipper got stuck, splitting hairs literal and figuratively. Jeremy bit his lower lip as he rushed to undo the button above and finally release his manhood in the open.

“Don’t know him in person but I heard he’s a no-frills kind of guy with a one-track mind. Your friend is in for a world of hurt if he gets his way.”

“He’ll hurt too, that’s for sure. I hope that’s not the end, Jer, or I’ll be extremely disappointed. Work those brains out... harder!” She pushed him to the edge.

The smartphone fell to the ground as both hands struggled for possession of his swollen penis. Pre-cum left a large stain on his white boxers as he pumped helplessly.

“I... I... don’t know what else to tell you...”

“I don’t believe that and neither do you. Harder. Harder. Go harder or I’ll make it stop.”

“What?”

“You lasted a month before. How about two this time around? Two months of frustrated blue balls waiting to hear my voice again so you can earn your release. Torture, perhaps, but torture is fun, and my way is the way that matters. Hmmm... yes... one sweet trigger and you’ll become my chastised puppet once more...”

“Please don’t... I need to...”

“... cum? Cum to me? Cum before me? Cum with your head low, tail between your legs like a good, little obedient puppy? You need it if I want you to need it otherwise you don’t need anything at all. You need to keep me happy otherwise this will end badly for you so this is the part where I’ll be kind. Ask me what else do I need or prepare to go down harder.”

Jeremy pushed the skin of his cock so hard it almost ripped apart, the mental fog bridging the distance between self-determination and complete hypnotic oblivion.

“W-wh... what e-else do you need, God... dess?”

“Well, my little pumping drone, everything about Agent Simms, obviously. His complete record, everything he loves, everything he hates, if he has any hidden fetishes I can exploit. If he loves panties as much as Henry, I’ve got that covered already, but let’s hope for something different... And yes, I could look up all that dirt by myself but why would I when I have a jerking slave who will gladly do it for me? That would be a waste, right?”

“Yes, Alexandra.”

“Say it again as you pump even harder.”

“Yes, Alexandra.”

“I’ll allow you to cum only after I receive this intel but you’re so worked up already I can’t guarantee you won’t shoot your load in the middle of the office for everyone to see. If you don’t want that to happen, I suggest you hurry before I change my mind. You have ten minutes, Jer, and the clock is already tickling.”

Ten minutes? Oh, fuck! Fuck! Fuck! FUCK! Pulling himself together would take two, getting back to his station three more, and bypassing the system’s security protocols as to not raise any red flags as Special Agent’s personnel records were beyond his current level of clearance, at least four. He had sixty seconds tops to make her happy.

“It’s not enough,” he tried to stand up, stumbling on the loosened pants right after. He rolled down the first flight of stairs like a loose cannon ball, got up the moment his left shoulder hit the wall and ran haphazardly, shirt half undone, feverish glint on his cheeks. Harder he went, a mind fucked pessimist in turmoil.

Ten minutes later, Alexandra opened her e-mail to find everything she asked for and more for Jeremy, in his eagerness to be of use to his mind mistress, had even tapped in to the operative’s cell GPS, giving her access to real-time updates of his location. Tracking down Colonel Gibbons had just become child’s play. The picture of his deflated balls on a puddle of sticky cum under his desk was overkill, but good for a laugh at least.

Yes, the fun way was definitely the best.