The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Kirk hadn’t been a drinker since his marriage had fallen apart. It was the one problem he could put on his shoulders, something he could improve, a way he could take responsibility. That and choose women who weren’t whores from that point out.

“I’ve hadn’t seen you like this since I was in college,” Katelyn said. She sat across from him as he ordered a sixth double whiskey sour. She waved off the waitress. It wasn’t her liver to injure anymore. “And you’re not 28 anymore.”

“The wedding’s off,” he said. “Fuck, I should’ve listened to Frieda. Why the hell am I this stupid?”

“Testosterone poisoning,” Katelyn suggested. “It’s not Val you’re angry about is it?”

“That fucking glasses wearing French bitch is fucking Maxim’s whore!” Kirk slammed his fist into the table.

“Cool it, man. If you’re going to be an angry drunk, I can’t listen to you,” she said. Kirk wasn’t going to hit her. Katelyn had seen the man stripped down by alcohol to his purest, emptiest, simplest self. She had never seen what could take him to violence.

“Jesus Christ!” Kirk swore. He looked up at Katelyn. “I know you and her have a history. I know she fucked—”

“That’s not the problem between us,” Katelyn interrupted. “Look, Kirk. You picked wrong again. Maybe, it’s you.”

“Of course it’s fucking me,” Kirk bitched. “But it’s also each and every one of them. Look at this chucklefuck!”

He played the video again and slid his phone across the table to Katelyn. She picked it up and frowned. She turned the volume down, ignoring the looks of disgust and curiosity from the other patrons. There he was again. That man. She schooled her features and assured herself that only she could hear her heart.

“That piece of ratshit... It’s not just Val. Frieda’s tits over teakettle for him too.”

“That’s his last one,” Katelyn said, the waitress put down the glass and walked away.

“Bitch.” Kirk snorted. Katelyn shook her head.

“You need to stop, think, and slow the fuck down.” Katelyn suggested. “Tell me—”

“I can’t think with—” He interrupted her harshly and then glared at her. “You’re still fucked for money, aren’t you?”

“What are you getting at?”

“I got to work out this anger and I’ve just got a lot of money freed up for a wedding I won’t be having,” He said. Katelyn was a beautiful woman, 35 year old Metis woman. Her dark complexion, long hair, high cheekbones, almond eyes. She was good looking long before Kirk had started drinking.

“What?”

“Like old times, like when we first met you,”

“I’m not a 20 year old any—”

“Fifteen grand,” he said.

She leaned over. Grabbed his drink. Drank half the glass and threw the other half in his face.

“Oh fuck off!” Kirk slid back in the chair. He saw the security good coming over. “Yeah, we’re done. Take me to pay the bill and you can walk me out.”

“Good,” he said. “You all right miss?”

“She’s fine, even pissed off that I raised her price a thousand percent.”

Katelyn grabbed her purse. She turned first to the bouncer and second to Kirk. “Can you call a cab for me? Good night, Kirk.”

“Yeah, right,” Kirk shook his head. The bouncer nodded and walked him over to the register. Katelyn stepped out into the late Halifax winter’s night.

Fuck me, she thought. I really couldn’t afford to turn that down. He’s going to be pissed.

Elizabeth walked to Owen’s place through the wind. It was just cold enough to snow, but the crystals hit her hair and face and melted instantly. She was miserable and looked it. She tugged her toque down over her eyes and trudged up the last hill on the walk home.

Home. Fuck. This is where she lived now. She refused to wonder how Brett was doing.

The worst thing was, Owen wasn’t the kinda guy she hated. The kinda guy who would fuck her and be done with her. The kinda guy who chased other women and couldn’t see one pair of tits from the next. The whole thing choked her heart and worsened her anxiety.

“I didn’t raise a whore.”

Was that what she was? Owen had bought her body. Whore’s had the sense to rent it.

“What’re you laughing about?”

Elizabeth jumped at the voice. She rolled the front of her toque up. Snow melt rolled down her face like tears.

“I was just thinking about you and me,” she said.

Owen grinned. He slipped an arm around Elizabeth’s waist and dropped his keys into the hand of the little freckled brunette girl. “You know, I never really saw myself with a girl like you? Too hot. Too friendly. Too perfect.”

“I’m hardly more than a fucking wreck,” Elizabeth frowned. They walked under the eave of the apartment doors and followed the brunette into the warm building. Elizabeth sighed.

“Well, I don’t think anyone could’ve seen things turning out like this,” Owen said. “I think this mean’s God is real.”

“What?”

“How else would magic coins work?”

“Just because you’ve proved there’s a devil, doesn’t mean you proved there’s a god,” Elizabeth worried morosely.

Frieda spun around at the elevators. “Is that true? But doesn’t—Shit.”

“You know,” Owen said. “I wish I’d been prepared for these.”

“Why weren’t you?”

“Would you believe a crazy old man who said his coins were magic?” Owen shook his head.

“What would you have done differently?” Elizabeth asked. The three of them stepped into the elevator.

“I would’ve bought you still,” Owen squeezed her hip. “I don’t think I could’ve stopped myself.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re the most beautiful woman I knew I could get along with,” Owen said.

“I had a boyfriend and—” Elizabeth cut herself off instantly.

“Yeah,” Owen touched his eye. It was still yellow brown but it was healing. “I can’t say I’m a good person, can I?”

“What’s wrong with having superpowers?” Frieda asked. “You bought me and Elizabeth and now you’re going to get millions of dollars.”

“I don’t think I can sell them,” Owen said. “Besides, I don’t want to.”

“But—” Frieda frowned. “Dad’s going to be devastated.”

“Yeah,” Elizabeth said. “Besides, I can’t waitress well enough for everyone. We need good money.”

“Yeah,” Owen said. “I think I’m going to have to buy the rich man.”

“That doesn’t seem to make you happy,” Elizabeth said watching Owen’s face. The elevator doors opened. Janice and Roxxi were down the hallway. Owen waved.

“Party at your place?” Janice asked. Roxxi lit up.

I’m never going to have monogamous sex ever again. Elizabeth thought to herself. How am I supposed to fall in love and be happy if I don’t get to know him?

“Not tonight,” Owen said, shocking Frieda and Janice. Roxxi looked disappointed.

“So what’s the plan?” Janice said.

“Nice and easy,” Owen answered. “C’mon, Elizabeth, you need to warm up with a shower.”

Giselle entered her hotel room and the hairs of her neck stood on end. Someone had been here. Housekeeping? Yes, them too. Maxim had many enemies. She didn’t expect any of them to have followed him to Canada. She frowned. She was going to have to search everything and—

Maxim knocked on her door. And again in the time it took her to turn around and open it.

“Good, you’re back,” he said, in French. “How did it go?”

“There are complications,” Giselle opened. Maxim’s eyes narrowed. He crossed the room and sat in the chair. “My room has been invaded and—”

“Your tools and property are your responsibility,” he interrupted. “Tell me about Owen.”

“He is excitable. He is not used to having control over multiple women. Over one woman most likely. His tastes are vanilla but aggressive.

“We went first to a bar and restaurant in the South End. I believe he wished to show off several of the waitresses he had purchased with the coins.”

“Hm… Why did he waste coins on simple waitresses?” Maxim said.

“I believe he didn’t know the scope of the coins’ power until after a half dozen mistakes,” Giselle said. “Besides myself, I don’t think he has made one well considered decision.”

“Good,” Maxim said. “He sounds remarkably uncomplicated.”

“He maybe, but that also makes his blind spots quite large,” Giselle explained. “After the restaurant, we travelled to Mr Marcusson’s shop.”

“What for?”

“I believe he wished to know where all of the coins were, definitively,” she said. “When he sits down to deal with you, he wants all weapons on his side of the table.”

“Did you provide him with this strategy?”

“No, he hasn’t asked me for any advice,” Giselle said. “He used me for company and sex.”

“I trust you made yourself remembered.” Maxim lowered his eyes, reminding himself just how memorable Giselle’s body was.

“Of course,” Giselle said. “His tastes are, as I said, vanilla. He wants sex, affection, attention, and reinforcement. It took little effort to maximize those actions and still stand out.”

“I expect no less of you,” Maxim said. “Kirk Marcusson’s shop?”

“Yes, we arrived to find Kirk’s woman there,” Giselle explained.

“A disagreeable slut,” Maxim commented.

“Apparently, when he delivered the first coin to Mr Marcusson’s daughter, the girl’s enmity towards her would be stepmother ensnared Val as well,” Giselle said. “We immediately closed the shop and fucked in the back office.”

“Not interested in foreplay,” Maxim judged.

“He is interested in sharing though,” Giselle said. “Attention and reinforcement, by mirroring his sexual attraction for his other women, I provide a service he desires.”

“And Val? I suppose she wasn’t thrilled about pleasuring you?”

“Do you wish for the details?” Giselle asked.

“No.” Maxim said, after a moment. “Tell me of the complication.”

“Frieda Marcusson arrived, filmed us, and I believe sent proof to her father,” Giselle explained.

Maxim’s featured steeled with coldness. He ground his teeth as he thought. Giselle waited.

“You could’ve stopped her?” Maxim said.

“Not without losing grip on Master,” Giselle explained.

“Another complication…” Maxim frowned.

“Yes sir,” Giselle agreed.

Wendy lay back and stared at the roof. Zera had stopped kissing her. That was hardly a relief. Zera had just moved her attention. Wendy stifled a moan as her breasts were massaged and suckled. Her shirt was open, her bra was askew, her jeans hung off her ankle, her panties were swept aside, and her skin was flushed with blood.

She turned her head. The camera looking over her felt too large. Too invasive. Wendy shivered from Zera’s attention. Wendy didn’t know what to do. She ran her fingers through Zera’s black and white hair.

The slide of Zera’s tongue barbell across Wendy’s nipple sent the girl shivering. She was used to rougher, bigger, simpler, and more masculine. Was she gay? Why was her body responding like this if she wasn’t? Oh crap…

Wendy moaned and faced the camera when she did so. Is that what Owen wanted? She hadn’t even been able to talk to the man who owned her. Jesus. What was this? The seventeen hundreds? Who owned people!

It sucked worse than she imagined. Not knowing, not being ready for it, not saying no out of unadventurous cowardice. Sex wasn’t like this. Kissing, touching, the occasional suck, the long slow fuck. Wendy’s knees kicked up and her ankles shuddered.

“Fuck you have a wet pussy, you filthy slut!” Zera declared as her fingers stroked up and down Wendy’s lips.

“I’m not a—I’m not filthy…” was all Wendy could manage.

“That’s OK,” Zera whispered. “I can teach you.”

Zera was fully naked but for the tattoos and piercings all over her body. Her skin, much whiter than Wendy’s made them stand out so much for the camera. Was he watching? Was this for later? Would they sell this? Oh my god…

Wendy gave in. She let her eyes fall closed and her mouth hang open. Zera rocked herself against the thick of Wendy’s thigh. Wendy arched up and did the same back. They fucked each other, grinding madly. Wendy’s fingers bit deep into her coverlet. She tossed her head, flung her dark hair from side to side.

Zera womanhandled Wendy. She tightly gripped Wendy’s breasts and licked and sucked hard on Wendy’s reddening nipples. She was loud, sloppy, and it reminded Wendy more and more of the camera rolling for them.

“Oh fuck…” Wendy moaned. She dug her heel into the mattress. The squeak of springs and the thump of her headboard against the wall echoed up her bones. She was getting fucked. She was with a woman.

Pleasure hit her in spikes before it came in waves. Wendy had lots of cums before. She was hardly a stranger to her boyfriend. She had masturbated and masturbated and masturbated to the point she was worried that she was doing it too much.

Zera wasn’t a boyfriend. Hell she wasn’t a girlfriend. She was just another… slut, filthy or not, like her. A trophy and meat for a man who…

Wendy wailed as the cum crashed over her. Zera snatched a hand forward and crushed her face.

“Open your eyes! Open your eyes! Look at me!” Zera growled.

Wendy slowly blinked her eyes open. Zera was snarling and panting. Zera’s breath was hot and sometimes wet up and down Wendy’s cheeks now. The sweat and saliva spattered over Wendy’s wet breasts were flicked at her chin in the violence of her fucking.

She opened her eyes all the way. Zera didn’t look happy; she looked triumphant. Wendy didn’t understand, she couldn’t think through the fog of her pleasure.

“Filthy,” Zera snarled.

“What?” Wendy squeaked. “Oh-ooh!”

“Listen to her!” Zera twisted to the camera.

Wendy played up her moans, but amplifying her performance while the pleasure was real constructively interfered in her mind. She wobbled with another orgasm.

“Look at her!” Zera turned back and twisted Wendy by the jaw to look into the camera. Zera leaned in and bit Wendy’s ear.

“Oh god! Oh-Owen! Look at me!” Wendy played the game. Her shoulders shook and her breaths rasped down into her spasming lungs.

Wendy moaned and Zera whipped her back to look at her. Wendy looked wide-eyed. She didn’t get it. She’d never felt attraction to women, but the look of dominion in Zera’s eyes tickled her libido in ways she didn’t understand.

Zera spat in Wendy’s face. Wendy wailed and flinched and was disgusted with herself for cumming again. Zera twisted Wendy’s face to the camera once again.

“Look at your filthy slut!” Zera said.

“I’m a slut. I’m your slut.” Wendy was shocked to hear Zera gobbing another launch of spit to the ready. “I’m filthy! I’m filthy! I’m filthy!”

“Yeah she is!” Zera finally came with Wendy. Zera had scissored Wendy’s thigh until it hurt. Wendy watched the twists of agony on Zera’s face, enraptured, amazed, confused.

“Owen might want to see this!” The thought came to Wendy like an oncoming train. She grabbed Zera’s head. She twisted Zera to the camera.

“I’m not your only slut!” Wendy declared. Zera shook and collapsed.

It was a few minutes later when Zera climbed off of Wendy and turned off the camera.

“Oh god, you were awesome,” Zera panted. “Fuck, I never got to handle Roxxi like that. The other girls were the charge takers. I just gotta be for you. I can’t wait until I don’t have to do this anymore.”

“It was…” Wendy wiped her face. What was sweat and what was spit was impossible to tell anymore. “Why did you do that?”

“I wanted to show Owen how to handle me,” Zera said. “I haven’t had a man just fuck me harder than I can stand before.”

“Neither have I,” Wendy moaned. She covered her mouth and blushed.

“Let’s go get a shower before we crash for the night,” Zera said.

“You’re staying?” Wendy said. She looked around her dorm room. It was a single. She missed having a roommate like in freshman year, but… She didn’t share her bed back then.

“It’s either that or hike over to Owen’s and get fucked,” Zera said. “We got class in the morning. What use are we if he can’t make money off us?”

“The fucking?” Wendy frowned.

“And that’s enough for you?” Zera scoffed. “I have no idea how I’m not getting better grades than you when you don’t fucking want it like I do.”

“I—um—”

“Whatever, let’s just get this sweat and cum off of us and go to sleep. Do you have your own shower or do we have to go use the communal ones?”

“Communal ones.”

“Shit,” Zera sighed. “We’re not going to film in there and if it’s not for Owen’s benefit, what’s the point of even fucking until you know what you’re doing?”

The shaking in Wendy’s legs was reason enough not to for her. But she was more freaked out about Zera wanting to film them than performing. Wendy really was becoming a filthy whore.