The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive


Miryem stood in front of the door, eagerly awaiting the arrival of their guest. She had tied her thick black hair in a braid and dressed herself in a classic french maid uniform. It was, perhaps, a bit cliché, but it was her fantasy, and she did not have to justify it to anyone. She loved the way it looked on her, made her appear even smaller, especially next to her boyfriend, Mark, who was dressed in a nice white shirt and a pair of ironed black pants. They looked like the stereotype of a white middle-class host and his tiny Indian maid. It was perfect.

The bell rang. Miryem had to suppress a squeal. She gave her uniform a last, quick pat-down to get the creases out and tried to give herself a servile appearance, though she could not prevent herself from radiating a certain giddy energy. She stepped forward, and opened the door.

Their guest was Ann, Miryem’s best friend. As she stepped into the apartment, Miryem looked at the doorway and managed to catch the brief glow of magical energy. Her set-up had worked. Ann’s initial excited I-haven’t-seen-you-in-ages expression quickly faded to a scrunched up look of confusion when she saw Miryem’s outfit, before dulling to a blank look of indifference once the effects of the spell set in.

She turned to Mark. “Mark, hi. How nice to see you. Thank you for inviting me.”

“Hi, uh. Sure. Of course,” he said. Mark was not a good actor under the best of circumstances, and Miryem suspected he was still apprehensive about the whole thing. Plus, Miryem had actually been the person who invited Ann, so some confusion was understandable. He managed to get his stammer under control though, and asked: “Have you met my new maid?”

“Oh Mark, you joker,” Ann said. “You’ve had Miryem for ages.” As she said this, she took off her coat and handed both it and her purse to Miryem, though ‘piled them on her arms’ may have been more accurate, as she did not even really look at her. “Now come on Mark, let’s open some wine. We have so much to catch up on.” She had, in fact, never really talked to Mark.

Hidden behind the purse and the enormous coat, Miryem allowed herself to grin. Everything was going perfect.

* * *

Miryem set the main course in front of Ann and Mark, collected the used soup plates, curtsied and said: “Enjoy.” Mark thanked her, somewhat awkwardly. Ann did not acknowledge Miryem at all, merely wordlessly handing her her empty wineglass for a refill. Her eyes were on Mark.

Miryem walked back to the kitchen and immediately let out the moan she had been holding. It was all going much better than she’d dared to hope: her body was on fire, charged by every time Ann just called her ‘maid’ instead of her name, handed her tasks without even for politeness asking, or gave her that critical making-sure-a-servant-doesn’t-fudge-their job side-eye. Her friend, apparently, was quite the snooty bitch. It made her more horny than she’d ever been before. Even Mark’s bad acting couldn’t dampen it. He was definitely getting laid tonight.

She looked through the kitchen door opening back at the dining area, trying to find an excuse to go back out there and get more of her fix. Mark looked a bit stiff, she noticed. He was leaning back from Ann, and occasionally glanced in the direction of the kitchen. Probably still not entirely comfortable with the situation, Miryem thought.

Ann was much different. She was her usual extroverted self, but she was also twirling her long, blond hair when he talked, leaning towards him, laughing at each and every one of his corny jokes, …

Oh, Miryem thought. Oh no.

“Miryem, get over here,” Mark shouted. There was a tinge of panic in his voice.

Miryem rushed forward. “You called, sir?” she asked, almost forgetting the honorific, and forgetting to curtsy entirely.

Mark stood up from the table, obviously trying to appear calm. “Come to the entrance-way with me,” he said. “I wish to discuss something with you.”

So they went over there together, standing in front of the door.

“She’s flirting with me!” Mark said. He was trying, though somewhat failing, to keep his voice to a whisper.

“I know, I saw,” Miryem said. “Look, this is my fault. I shouldn’t have chosen one of my single friends for this. I take full responsibility.”

“That’s nice, but what do I do?” Mark asked.

“Just don’t sleep with her?” Miryem tried.

“I want you to call it off,” Mark said, crossing his arms.

“No, please,” Miryem said. “I understand. I’m sorry, but it’s so good, and I just—”

“Maid, I spilled something,” Ann shouted from the dining room. “Come clean it up.”

Miryem moaned involuntarily, but quickly collected herself. She took his hand in hers. “Please continue,” she asked. “For me?”

He gave her a relenting look.

She squealed and kissed his hand, before again collecting herself. She patted down her uniform, gave a little curtsy and said: “Thank you, sir. I shall look after your guest’s concern now. I hope you’ll enjoy the rest of your dinner.” She then went to the dining room, passing Ann on the way.

* * *

Ann came over to Mark. “Oh thank god, it worked!”

“What worked?” Mark asked.

She gave him an apologetic look. “I spilled some wine on purpose to get your maid out of our hairs.”

“What? Why?”

“She’s so nosy!” Ann said. “She hasn’t given us a moment of privacy all night.”

“Well, you know,” Mark said, unsure what to say. “She’s the maid. It’s her job to attend to us.”

“Yeah, but she’s always hovering around us,” Ann said. “And she’s always staring at me with those big, excited eyes, like she wants something from me. I feel like a servant should be present but out of the way. What she’s doing just makes me uncomfortable.” She took a step back and pointed at Mark accusingly. “As it does you. Don’t deny it. I see you glancing over at where she is all the time.”

Mark rubbed the back of his neck. “I suppose you’re right, but—”

“See!” Ann interrupted. “She’s annoying, and she makes both of us uncomfortable, and it was a good idea to distract her, because now we can finally. get. closer.” As she said the last words, she slowly shimmied up to him and started caressing his chest.

Mark jumped back. “No. No, we can’t.” He was flustered, and stammering. “We still can’t, because, you see—”

“You think she’ll still hear us?” Ann asked. “Well that’s easy to solve. Do you have your keys on you?”

“What? Yes.” Mark said, perplexed.

Before he realized, she’d dragged him outside, thrown him against the outside door of the apartment, and closed the door behind them.

“So,” she said, while she was again rubbing herself against him. “Is this better?”

Mark was confused. He remembered being against this just a moment ago, but the reason why was quickly fading from his memory. Something about Miryem? Why would she be relevant to this?

Ann put her face right up to his and whispered: “Your maid can’t hear us here.”

Oh right, Mark thought. Miryem, the maid. She was being nosy. I should tell her off about that later. He then pressed Ann against his body and kissed her.

* * *

Miryem was happy about her talk with Mark. It seemed to have worked, as he was much more comfortable in his role. He appeared much more confident, entertained Ann, and ordered Miryem over much more often. He also ordered her away after she was done now, which was arousing in and of itself, but also prevented her from getting gratification whenever she wanted, thus stoking the fire in her even further. It was great, and Miryem was glad he did it, but she was still determined to get her revenge afterwards.

The one thing that bothered Miryem was the way he interacted with Ann. Obviously it was better than before, but she did occasionally feel pangs of jealousy when he now didn’t obviously rebuff her flirtations. Naturally, he was just playing the gracious host, not wishing to directly offend his guest, and whatever the case, as she’d told him, this situation was her fault, so she did not feel justified in complaining. Still, the jealousy was there, and it was not helped by her occasional feeling that he was flirting back. He looked at her that way, and his hand brushed hers just a little bit too often, …

Miryem’s thoughts were interrupted when Mark called her over. She walked over and did the standard little “You called, sir?” and curtsy ritual.

“Yes,” Mark said. He gestured towards the empty plates. “that was excellent, as usual. You may now serve us dessert.”

The way he looked at her now! It made her feel like she was merely a tool that he required to get what he wanted. It made Miryem very, very horny, so much so, that it took a while for the question to get through her steam-fogged mind. “Oh, but, I hadn’t planned a dessert,” she said finally.

“Oh, but that’s wonderful,” Ann said. “That means we get to choose. How about ice cream?”

“Yes,” Mark said. “That sounds nice. Miryem, get us some ice cream.”

“But.” Miryem didn’t really understand what was happening. She could barely focus on the words that were being spoken with the way her body felt, and the situation didn’t make any sense. “I don’t think we have anymore ice cream,” she managed to stammer. Mark should know that, she thought.

“Well that is not our concern,” Ann said. “Get it somehow. You can take your time if you need it.” She stood up and walked over to sit on Mark’s lap, where she started caressing his neck. “Mark and I will just enjoy some alone-time meanwhile,” she said while staring into his eyes. She leaned in to kiss him.

The shock of it cleared the fog from Miryem’s mind for a moment. “No!” she shouted.

They both looked over at her, annoyed.

“No, this isn’t right,” Miryem continued. “This isn’t what I wanted. Please, Mark, can we —”

“It’s sir, or master to you,” Mark said, sternly. “Miryem, I don’t know what has gotten into you, and for the moment I don’t care. Do as Ann ordered you to do. You will get a talking-to after this evening is done.”

Miryem turned beet red, and had to bite her tongue to prevent herself from moaning. Mark’s words had gone through her body like shock waves. Unsure what to do, and unable to think straight, she defaulted back to her maid persona.

“Yes master,” she said, while curtsying. “Of course master. I apologize. I shall do as you asked.” She then turned around and went back to the kitchen.

Her mind was a whirlwind. Whenever she tried to understand what was happening, Mark’s last words would echo back through her brain and heat would rise up from her body, smothering all clear thought. If she tried to just enjoy the sensation, her conscience would gnaw at her, telling her that something was not right, that she was forgetting something. So she drifted from one pole to the other, her thoughts never settling down.

Without input from her mind, her body moved on its own. She checked the freezer and saw that there was indeed no ice cream. On autopilot, she grabbed her wallet and keys, threw on a jacket, put on her outside shoes, … She was at the lift when she noticed she’d gone through the doorway, but by then she’d forgotten why it was relevant.

* * *

Mark came tiptoeing out of the bedroom at 11am. He was only half dressed and paid great attention to softly close the door behind him. He looked around and saw Miryem attentively waiting for him in the dining room. Grinning sheepishly, he explained: “Ann is still sleeping.”

Miryem had, of course, been awake for four hours already. She had cleaned yesterday’s dishes, scrubbed the floor, gone out for groceries, and set the table for breakfast, all while making sure not to smudge her uniform, loosen her braid, or do anything else that would sullen her appearance to master Mark. She curtsied at him and said: “I’m glad you had an enjoyable night, master. Will you have the usual for breakfast, or something else, given the occasion?”

“Oh, ah,” Mark said. “The usual, I think. Ann won’t come out for quite a while. Not that she’d mind anyway...”

Miryem folded her hands in front of her lap and gave a quick nod. “The usual then, master,” she said, before disappearing into the kitchen.

Mark went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and shave. When he came out a few minutes later, Miryem was already standing next to the dinner table, holding a tableau and clasping a small pillow to her side. After he’d sat down, she gingerly placed the contents of the tableau in front of him: a soft-boiled egg, some toast, a glass of juice, and various small bowls filled with nuts, berries and cut fruits. She then crouched down and placed the pillow between his feet.

“Thank you,” Mark said, when she’d stood back up.

“It is my pleasure, master,” she said, while curtsying. “Enjoy your meal.” She then crawled between his legs, unzipped his pants, and started blowing him, as she did every morning.