The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive


mm, mf, hm, mc

I’d decided it was time for a new mind-control game. There was a MacDonald’s on campus, where I ate lunch sometimes. Part of the student center, full of light and glass. It was always crowded with cute young things. I liked the way they jostled me in line, feeling their pliable minds and emotions all around me. Instead of stalking one, I decided to let a victim come to me.

As I stood waiting to order a fish fillet, I caught sight of a young man whom I’d noticed a time or two before. Slightly curled red hair, a bit long. A baby face. A nice teen body, lean, with a hint of muscle. Why not? I sent my barb his way: a compulsion, a craving. I felt it strike his psyche. A tiny invader at first, it would take root and become overwhelming. He looked back at me, imprinting. He dropped his gaze from my eyes to my crotch, then away, flushing. He vanished into the crowd.

I smiled. The compulsion I’d laid on him was simple: the more time he spent with me, the more he would desire the taste of my semen. At first a niggling desire, an idle fantasy, it would grow each time he saw me. The sound of my voice, the smell of my body, the touch of my skin — any contact would reinforce the spell. Eventually, his craving would become so great he’d beg and crawl. And when he finally tasted me, the fulfillment would rewrite his brain forever.

So as he walked away, I was confident he’d be back.

I knew he was straight. I knew he was shy. Those had been foremost in his mind when I’d touched it. Eventually, none of that would matter. But the struggle — ah, that was something to observe and savor.

I looked forward to it.

The next day, I ate at MacDonald’s again. I took my Big Mac and sat at one of the tables in the commons. I saw him, just from a distance. He had two friends with him — a blonde jock and the jock’s dark haired girlfriend. They went to the lines, then to a seat at one of the high tables. His gaze kept coming back to me. I pretended I didn’t notice. Was it my imagination, or did he walk uncomfortably when they left? Like he had a hard-on that would not go down? I smiled and devoured my burger.

He’d be back, I knew. My one fear had been that he’d so spooked he’d never return to the student center gain. I guess he’d convinced himself his obsession was nothing. That he could handle it. I looked at him as he walked away, and he looked back. He flushed so red, it almost matched his hair. He swept up his tray and fled. Foolish boy. He was mine now.

The third day. I took up my perch again: this time with some chicken nuggets. My feet dangled beneath the high table, and I looked out over the crowd. If my prey wasn’t coming to lunch today, it would be an exercise of supreme will-power. There he was: red hair, green ball-cap. Jeans and sneakers, a grey tee shirt. He looked up and saw me. He’d been looking.

He went to Panda Express, not MacDonald’s. A petty defiance. All he had.

Let him eat his sweet-and-sour chicken.

He was still looking, backwards over his shoulder as he stood in line.

I pretended not to notice him.

When he took his tray in shaking hands, I wasn’t at all surprised that he made his way towards me. He pretended to be searching for a free seat, but I wasn’t fooled. I saw the way he almost dropped the tray each time he looked my way.

He found my table. Surprise, surprise.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked me.

I shrugged, feigning indifference. He sat. I admired him. Or at least his body. It tapered triangularly, his chest heavier and wider with muscle than I had expected. His eyes were very green.

I said, “Hi. My name’s Larry.”

“Tim,” he said. He swallowed. He wore jeans, despite the growing Arizona heat. His shirt announced he was a Big Dog, and that girls, particularly those in thong bikinis, should pay attention. Tasteless, I thought. A masculine bluff. His eyes, though — they were full of nervous fear and desire.

Tim said, “Sorry to crowd in on you like this. I couldn’t find another seat.”

I spied at least three empty tables from my perch but said nothing.

Tim ate, fingers twitching nervously on his chopsticks. He spied a brunette girl in short shorts hurrying across the food plaza. Her ample breasts bobbed.

“I’d like some of that,” Tim remarked. “Wouldn’t you? I wonder if she gives good head.”

“Probably,” I said.

Tim paused. “Have you ever wondered what it’s like? I mean, from the other end.” I heard the wobble in his voice.

I decided to twist the knife. “No, that’d be really gay.”

Tim went on, “I hear guys give the best head. You know, because they know what feels good. You wouldn’t try, if some dude offered?”

I stared him down. “Are you coming on to me, Tim? Cuz it’s kinda pathetic.”

“No!” He said. “Of course not! That’s… That is …” He trailed off as he saw me rubbing my crotch.

I hopped down from the high seat. “Thought so,” I said. “Well, I’m out of here.”

Tim trailed after me. “Please, Larry. Don’t go, man, I didn’t mean…”

I turned on him. “Say what you want, then, Tim. Say it loud.” I looked around at the lunch crowd, who were enjoying the show. I ran my hand across my fly.

Tim flushed red. “I want your cock, Larry. Please let me suck your cock.”

“Here?” I asked.

Tim looked around. “If .. if you want.” He sank to his knees.

“No,” I said. “Follow me.”

I strode out of the student center and down the street. Tim followed.

We hurried down the sidewalk, and turned into the parking lot. The desert sun reflected blazingly off the windscreens. I found my car — a grey BMW four-door. Sedan body but a powerful engine.

“Where are we going?” Tim asked.

“To my place,” I said. “Assuming that I bring you at all. Are you sure you want to suck me? The taste of my cum will rewrite your brain. Positive reinforcement. You’ll crave the taste and feel of cock forever, and the way I choose to fuck you — that will be your special obsession.”

Tim stared at me. I saw the sweat under his hairline. Maybe he still wanted to say no. But, of course, so much time around me — he must be almost bursting with desire. Still, he’d been warned.

I reached into my jeans and teased a drop of precum from the tip of my cock. When I placed it under Tim’s nose, his resistance broke. He took my fingers into his mouth and sucked greedily. A shudder ran through him at that first taste. Not enough to sate him, but enough to bind him. The second part of my compulsion clicked in: he wouldn’t be able to orgasm now. Not till he tasted my full, fresh load.

“Okay,” I said. “I want to see what you want me to put my cock in, before I decide. Strip.”

“Here?” Tim looked nervously around the parking lot. It was empty for now, but people passed through all the time.

He hesitated a moment. He cast aside his ball cap, then lifted his tee shirt over his head, revealing a slim chest with a tight belly and a bit of muscle. Then he hopped on one foot and the other, pulling off his shoes. He halted again, hands on his belt. It took a stern nod from me, before he got going again, drawing out his belt, unhooking it, and sliding down his jeans. He kicked them aside, standing there, pale and trembling. His cock jutted in his jockeys, clearly visible through the enormous wet spot. Fine red hair covered his legs.

Oh, yes, the compulsion was working.

“Go on,” I prompted.

Tim bent over and slid off his jockeys. He stood and his cock bounced in the open air. It was a nice length and pretty thick. I stepped in and gripped it, running my fist up and down. My touch reduced to Tim to a quivering moan. I slapped his ass.

“I think you’ll do,” I said. I clicked the trunk. “Get in.”

Tim looked cute when he was surprised. “What?”

I pulled up the trunk lid. “Get in,” I said. “We’re going to my place. Did you think I’d let you ride shotgun?”

Tim made to grab his things. “Leave them,” I said. “Get in.” Reluctantly, Tim lowered himself into the trunk, a pale shape in the dark. I picked up his ball cap and tossed it in after him. “You can keep that,” I said. “You look good in it.” Then I closed the trunk on his helpless gaze.

I opened the passenger door and leaned into the back seat. This model Beemer had a ski hole: a cushion that opened between the trunk and the passenger compartment.. You could put a ski set or a fishing rod through the hole. In this case, I could use it to look in on poor captive Tim. I lowered the cushion. His green eye stared back out.

“Doing okay in there?” I asked.

He nodded.

I got into the driver’s side and started up the car. A quick movement of the rear view mirror let me see the back seat clearly, and Tim’s eye. He made small motions. I think maybe he was jacking himself— no matter. He could work himself hotter, but he wasn’t going to cum and spoil my game.

I pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main drag.

As we passed the Modern Languages building, I spotted two familiar figures — Tim’s friends from lunch the other day. Why not have a little more fun? I thought.

I honked and pulled up to the sidewalk. “Get in,” I called.

The blonde jock and his girlfriend blinked and did a double-take. After all, they didn’t know me. I hit them with a whammy — now they’d be as friendly as if we’d been buddies for years. They piled in, and I drove off towards the hills.

“You’re friends of Tim’s, aren’t you?” I asked. “Tell me your names.”

“I’m Scott,” said the jock, settling into his seat.

“Amanda,” said the girl, brushing dark bangs off her face.

“Come on up to my place,” I said. “I think Tim would like that a lot.”

I felt the embarrassment just rolling off my cargo in the trunk. Tim moaned, maybe involuntarily, as he understood what I intended.

Scott jumped. “Shit! There’s someone in the trunk.”

Amanda peered in. “Is that Tim? Is he naked?”

“Sure is,” I said, turning the wheel. “He’s going to put on a show for us.”

Amanda giggled.

Scott said, “I always knew you must be a fag, Tim.”

Amanda said, “Hey, mister …”

“Larry,” I offered.

“Larry. Can you make him show us his cock?” She laughed.

I turned around. “You heard the lady, Tim. Make them happy or I’ll kick you out on the curb.”

“Oh, shit,” said Tim. We heard a shuffling noise in the trunk. It was hard to turn around in there. Then, he seemed to find the right position. His cock protruded from the ski hole, bobbing there like a fleshy gear shift.

“Oh Tim,” said Amanda. “Looking good.” She directed a gaze to me. “Can I touch him?”

Tim groaned.

“Use him however you like. He won’t be coming for a while, though, so try not to rub him raw.”

Amanda smiled wickedly. She took his cock in her tiny hand and began to finger it. Tim moaned and shuddered. Then she pumped him, harder and harder. When he began to moan, she pulled away, slapped his cock and let it wobble. Eventually, she took a bit of his copious precum and licked it from her fingers.

Scott looked on, uncomfortable, as his girlfriend played with Tim. “Enough,” he said. “Put your dick away, fag, and get your mouth up to the hole.”

Scott got up out of his seat. He straddled the middle cushions on his knees. His belt clicked as he yanked his fly open and pushed his pants to his knees. His ass filled my rear-view mirror as he braced himself against the back windscreen.

“Give it to him!” said Amanda. She ran her hands over his exposed buttocks.

I heard gagging noises from Tim. Scott moaned and thrust.

By this time, I was riding in the foothills, among the saguaros and the mansions. Scott was vigorously fucking Tim’s face through the ski/glory hole. I didn’t want to interrupt his rhythm. I skipped my place and circled the block.

“Ah!” Steve screamed. He bucked, then pulled back and around, closing himself up and settling down. Tim’s mortified, cum-coated face peered out. I saw him licking his lips. The taste of another man’s semen would only serve to remind him of how much he wanted mine.

I pulled into my own drive and around the ornamental circle. My house was a big Spanish stucco affair. I never paid rent — mind control is good for a lot of things. I put the car into park.

“Everybody out,” I said. “We’ll have drinks and the Tim Show.”

Amanda giggled again. Steve said, “I could use a beer.” Neither of them noticed anything wrong with this arrangement — that was how I wanted it.

I hit the trunk clicker and opened it up. Tim lay in the back, already jacking himself again.

“Up,” I said.

He staggered out, stretching his cramped limbs. He really was a cute specimen — bubble butt, hard chest. I set the cap on his red curls.

We went inside.

I had a spacious living room, with two couches, an ottoman, and a tile table arranged in a semi-circle around a big flat screen. Behind the sofas lay a kitchen and bar. To one side, the half-closed blinds revealed a sunny patio, on the other a bedroom and an enormous bath.

“Make yourselves at home,” I told Scott and Amanda. “Tim, get them whatever they want from the bar.”

“Beer,” said Scott.

“Red wine,” said Amanda.

Tim wandered naked into the kitchen area. He found it hard to walk, he was so hard. I settled into a sofa and watched him as he found the drinks and poured. He didn’t meet anyone’s gaze. Poor kid. He still had cum on his face, and fuzz and dust from the trunk coated his flanks and chest.

“Please, god,” he said. “Can I suck you now, Larry? I’m so hard, and it hurts so much.”

His cock shone red as a beet,.

“Poor Tim,” I said. “I’ve been neglecting you, when all you want to do is please. I think I can spare you some cock and cum.”

Scott sniggered.

I finished my drink, stood up, and pulled off my jeans and shirt. God, I was hard. I heard Amanda gasp. Tim swallowed hard and almost fell forward towards me. He sank to his knees.

“No,” I said. “Wrong end. Bend over the table.”

With a frustrated moan, Tim did as I told him, lying across the table, with his face towards Scott and Amanda, and his ass towards me. I pulled a condom from beside my chair and rolled it on. As I stepped up behind him, I ran my hands over his cheeks. Red hair covered them, so light it was almost invisible. My thumb found his hole, and I pressed on it. My other hand circled his hard, dangling cock.

“Ready, Tim?” I asked. “Look your friends in the eye as you become my fuck hole.”

“Ahh,” he moaned. “Ahh, shit.” His cock practically radiated in my hand, and his ass thrashed and wiggled. I knew what he wanted — a taste of me, not a fuck. If I came in him, would it satisfy him? Would he find release? I knew it wouldn’t, and he probably knew it too.

Maybe that explained why he moaned so much as I placed my latex-covered cock-head against. My cock popped the ring of his sphincter, and I began to thrust. It had been quite a ride, and it didn’t take me long to reach my limit inside Tim’s furiously spasming ass. He shouted and thrashed, and I clutched his long hair, pulling back his head.

Scott drank impassively. Amanda squirmed on the couch, her pale legs pulled up under herself. She leaned against Scott’s chest.

I bottomed out and came, shooting my load into Tim’s ass and into the condom. Tim gave one last, frustrated animal noise, as I pulled out, as he realized that my cumming in his ass would never sate him. He fell heavily off the table and pulled his cock furiously.

I looked down at him there, sprawled on his knees, locks plastered to his face, ball cap still barely on his head.

I rolled the condom off my cock. Cum had settled in its tip, making it a fat heavy balloon. Tim’s eyes followed it as I waved it over him.

“Is this what you wanted?” I teased.

“Oh, god, yes,” said Tim.

“Here you go,” I tossed it to him, and he let go of his own dick to catch it. He upended it eagerly and let the cum drain into his mouth. It splattered onto his tongue. He tasted, and then let out another anguished sob.

“Sorry kid,” I said. “It has to be fresh from the spigot. I tell you what — you’ll just have to put on a good enough show to make me want to go again.” I reached out to flick his hair. Scott’s dried jizz covered his face and his body was coated in sweat and dust and dirt. “The shower’s in there. Go wash up.”

Tim struggled to his feet and staggered into the bedroom and shower. He bent over his hard red cock.

I returned to the bar, still naked. “Is there anything else I can get you?” I asked my other guests.

Scott shook his head. Amanda passed me her glass. I refilled it.

She clinked with mine. “So is it true Tim can’t cum?” she asked. “He looks so distressed.”

“He’s all locked up till I feed him a load,” I said. “I suppose he might go down a bit if I let him sleep.”

Shower noises began from the other room.

Amanda said, “God, that could be so handy — a cock that won’t go down. This one pops too early, every time.” She poked Scott with a finger.

He glared at her. “I don’t see why you need Tim. You have plenty of vibrators.”

She said, “Rubber’s not flesh.”

I said, “Well, if you want to borrow him for a bit, you’re welcome. I’ll watch, of course.”

I patted Scott’s shoulder. “Don’t worry,” I said. “Tim has plenty of holes.”

Amanda stood from the sofa. She was a bit tipsy, and, while not under my control, exactly, I had certainly pushed to forget her inhibitions and be as evil as possible. She leaned over the coffee table and pushed it. It was wrought iron and heavy. She motioned, and Scott helped her shove it aside.

“I like that Ottoman better,” she said.

Scott grunted and pushed the big white square into the center of the room.

Amanda winked at me. “You like to watch, Larry? Look at this.” She pulled her shirt over her head, cast aside her bra, and shook out her long dark hair. Her young, full breasts danced, nipples pointing ceiling-ward. She shucked off her shoes and removed shorts and panties in one go, revealing a heart-shaped ass and dark patch of hair.

Just then, Tim entered, one towel on his head, another around his waist. His erection strained against the fuzzy cotton. When he saw Amanda, he stood there goggling.

“Get up on the Ottoman, Tim. I think it’s your lucky day.”

Tim climbed up.

Amanda giggled. “Lie down on your back.”

Tim complied.

Amanda stalked over to him. Gently pulling the towel on his waist loose, she let his cock spring free. He moaned as she fisted it and ran her fingertips over the shaft and head. He rolled his head, and the towel on his hair fell to the floor.

Amanda climbed onto the Ottoman. She squatted over Tim, facing forward, and guided his cock-head towards her pussy. Then she slid onto him. A moan rose from them both. The poor boy had to be so aroused, any sensation must be painfully exquisite. And now he was going to be taken for a long ride.

Amanda started slowly, rocking on Tim, and riding up and down. She reached behind him and gripped one of his freckled knees. Her other went flat-palmed on his chest. Her breasts bobbed, and his ass rose and fell. “Ahh,” she said. “Fuck me! Fuck me!”

Tim began to groan and scream. Amanda bounced up and down and side to side. I took a seat where I could admire her ass and chest both and look her in the eye. Scott chugged the rest of his beer and shifted uncomfortably.

Amanda gave out a great shout. Orgasm, number one I thought. But she didn’t stop. She just waved one hand for her glass of wine, and she took a huge swallow. She hadn’t even stopped rocking. Merlot ran redly down her pumping chest. Tim arched his back and neck. Tears leaked from his eyes.

“Shit,” I said. “That’s hot.”

Amanda went into another bucking orgasm.

“I can’t stand it anymore,” said Scott. He stood, unbuckled his shorts and threw them aside. He had a nice fat, tan cock, big balls and blonde pubes. He hurled himself onto his knees and pressed his big dick into Tim’s face. He laid a hand on Tim’s upraised throat. Poor upside-down Tim found the other boy’s balls in his eyes and muscular pumping ass right above him.

Or maybe not so poor after all. Scott was a fine specimen — I almost regretted my choice of victims.

Tim’s lips closed on Scott’s cock-head, and his tongue worked the underside of his shaft. Scott moaned and pumped.

Meanwhile Amanda thrashed above them both, her tits eye-level with Scott and me. I took a long drink and began to work my hardening cock with my fingers.

Amanda rocked, screaming again. She leaned forward over Tim’s face and frenched her boyfriend.

Scott’s blond ass flexed and tensed as he pounded Tim’s throat with increasing intensity. “Ahh,” he said. “Ahhh!” He pulled out, blasting ropes of cum onto Tim’s lips. Tim flicked his tongue and licked. He looked to me and my cock, longingly. I stared back at him, knowing that when I finally did shoot in him, this afternoon would imprint on him into one giant pile of abused kink.

Amanda and Scott began to come down. Amanda’s rhythm slowed, and she pulled off Tim, trailing a long string of juice from his tip to her crotch. He was so hot, he still bucked and thrashed at the air. Amanda gave him a fond pat.

“Out of the way,” I told them. “It’s time.”

Tim saw me approaching. He rose onto his elbow, and slid off the Ottoman. He knelt there, on his knees, at just the right height. He opened his mouth and looked up at me pleading. I stepped up and gripped my cock. I ran it across his cheeks, feeling just the hint of stubble. Then I held it on his tongue. Tim didn’t even try to close on it. He was so terrified I’d take it away, he feared to do anything. I reached down and took up his ball-cap and set it on his head again. The red curls that had first attracted me peered from beneath its rim.

I put my hand under his chin. “Don’t worry, Tim,” I told him. “You’ll get what you want this time. Then you can cum, and your whole life will change. Riding, and fucking, and sucking — you’ll be a real whore after this.”

Tim moaned, “Please, Larry, please … don’t …” I think he was going to beg me not to make him my fag, but my stare killed his defiance. “Please feed me you cum. Please make me your whore. Any way you want.”

I gripped his soft hair and thrust in. Tim folded his soft lips around me. I was really hot again. It had been a good game. I worked my dick over his flexing tongue, then pulled it almost all the way out. His lips worked, and he applied suction. I thrust, butting the back of his throat, and feeling his cheeks pull tight. Back and forth, back and forth. Tim’s big green eyes looked up at me.

I felt my balls tighten, and I tensed for one long thrust.

Tim panicked, fearing I’d take his prize away from him again. He grabbed my ass-cheeks with both hands, pulling me in. Annoyed, I considered shooting at his face. No, too much more might kill the boy, and I wanted to use him again and again. I thrust into his mouth and began to shoot. Tim groaned and sucked and gobbled.

His hands flew between his legs, found his red engorged dick, and pumped. He began to fountain. Cum shot over his knees and onto my shins, and dripped in thick rivulets down his shaft.

“Ahh,” he said. “Ahhh.” There was more to it than just an orgasm. It was a programming. I could feel it take, changing him. He looked from me, to Scott, to Amanda. I knew we’d live in his imagination forever.

I pulled out of his mouth and tussled his hair. I lifted him to his feet. We were both sweaty and tired, but looking at Tim’ ass, I knew I wasn’t done with him yet. Another few days, maybe weeks, as a pet. Then I’d let him go. Let him go slut for the world.

I motioned to the bedroom. He staggered away, head down, an obedient slave.

Scott was already slipping into a post-coital stupor.

“Shit,” said Amanda. “That was hot. Are you going to do that to us too?” She sounded calm, indifferent. That was my whammy still working.

“Not now,” I said. “You two can rest. Drink what you want. Help yourself to the fridge. Just be gone by dark.”

“Where will you be?” Amanda asked.

“Enjoying my new conquest,” I said. A soft bed, and Tim awaited.