The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Jesus fuck!” Paul flinched as the pickup truck flew past his little Toyota. He hammered the heel of his fist into his car horn. “Where the fuck did that asshole come from!?”

“There was a little access road off the highway a few—”

“Fuck off, I was just swearing.” Paul clenched his fists tighter on the wheel. Jacob frowned in the other seat. What the fuck were they doing driving to Halifax? He hadn’t been in the city since college. It was fine, but there was no fucking way Jewel would drive out this way. Montreal was the smallest least cultured city she’d deign to travel to. As far as his spoiled fiancee was concerned, the stupid harbor town could sink into the bay. “How are you keeping yourself from being stressed?”

“What?” Jacob asked. “We have a task. We get the task done. Right?”

“Bring our wives back?” Paul scowled.

“Barbie’s here too,” Jacob said.

“I know, she was the slut Jewel was going to celebrate vicariously through.” Paul clicked his tongue. “Do you have any idea where in town we’re going?”

“I’ve got an idea.”

“Siri,” Paul said. “Call Jewelie.”

“OK. Calling Jewelie…” His dashboard replied. It rang, rang, and cut-off mid-ring.

“She’s probably hungover as fuck,” Jacob said, supportively. “Brandy isn’t answering either.”

“She definitely is hungover,” Paul agreed. “What else is there to do in Halifax?”

Fuck somebody. His inner voice answered him. He ground his teeth. For a second, he had a glimpse of Tamara’s face when he told her he was having an affair with Jewel. He’d quashed that. Shit, it had to happen to some guys but it didn’t happen to him. For fuck’s sake.

“Call Barbara.”

“Oh, I’d better use your phone. That bitch hates me,” Jacob said, picking Paul’s iPhone out of the cupholder.

A couple hundred dollars and the maid happily opened his daughter’s hotel room for him. Maxim nodded, and walked in scrubbing the middle aged servant woman forever from his mind. Housekeeping hadn’t come to the room. It had clearly been used. The few black hairs on the pillows may have been Natasha’s or the servant’s. Maxim twisted on Giselle.

“Where has he gone?” he demanded.

“I have an idea, but it’s vague,” she said.

“He has an apartment about ten blocks from here.”

“No.” She shook her head. “He is further than that.”

Kirk waited quietly, struggling with his unpracticed French to follow the conversation. Even if the translation was right in his head, the words didn’t make sense. He sighed.

“Do you need me to drive you somewhere else or may I postpone the meeting until tomorrow?” he offered.

“Go,” Maxim said with disgust.

Kirk nodded. He swiftly turned and headed for the elevator. He felt, better, knowing Owen was fucking with Maxim. That Owen was with Maxim’s daughter. It wasn’t only his own personal hell. Val? No, he put his phone back into his pocket. Hardly worth it right now. He needed the money from the deal to orient his way forward with her. Val was controllable, but Kirk didn’t like taking such a heavy hand. He got into business for himself and by himself, mostly, because he hated micromanaging.

His only hire had been Frieda’s mother. The store, and the deals, was too much work for him alone. Trusting someone with his life’s work was as easy as trusting her with his heart. That’s probably why, after their marriage fell apart, he clung to the first woman he could put in the store and trust her with it.

Don’t shit where you eat.

His mind went straight to Katie. He was a fucking idiot, wasn’t he?

“Why are you here?” Frieda asked after grabbing Owen by the face and kissing him madly. “Mom could be home at any moment.”

“This is Natasha and Hafnan,” Owen said, dodging the question.

“You are Marcusson’s daughter,” Natasha said, not looking up from her phone. “Surely you know a better place to go.”

“What? Yeah, anywhere. Why not your place? Or her hotel room?” Frieda rushed out the words.

“We’re in the process of—”

“Taisez-vous!” Natasha said. She shushed the three people watching her with a finger to her lips. “Oui. Vrai. Natasha Marie-Jeanne leCarre. Quatre Janvier, mil neuf cent quatre-vingt-dix-huit.”

She rambled off more French numbers and Owen’s eyes glazed over. He turned to Frieda. “Where would you go if you needed to burn an hour or so?”

“Dad’s store,” Frieda said. She saw that was a bad suggestion. She tilted her head. “I don’t think you’d want to go hang out with a bunch of high schoolers playing pool.”

“Good point,” he frowned. “Screw it. Let’s go see Janny at work.”

“Plus vite. Plus vite.” Natasha grumbled into her phone. Owen looked her over and frowned. He looked at Hafnan. She tried to smile broadly under her headscarf. She held Natasha’s two bags tightly against her knees. Owen turned to Frieda.

She was bundled up in a heavy winter coat. Her brown hair came out of her pink toque in a thick braid and rested on her shoulder. There was snow starting to fleck over all of them. Owen looked up and got a flake to the eye. He frowned. He looked at the house in front of him. He looked back at Frieda. Her cheeks flushed red, hiding her freckles. He smiled.

“What’ll your mom do if we go up to your bedroom?” I asked.

“Call every big man she knew to come over and break your legs,” Frieda said, with a slump. “She still thinks I’m a virgin.”

“Let her think that,” Owen said. “Call a cab. We’ll go somewhere else.” Natasha erupted in a firestorm of curses and spittle. Owen scratched his hair. “Or maybe we don’t have to and I should just go back to your father and hers.”

“Merci.” Natasha growled with finality. She stabbed her thumb into the hang-up icon on her phone’s screen. She glowered at him. “I could only get two million Euros.”

“Hm…” Owen smirked. “That is less than what I could press out of your father.”

“I have other things,” Natasha said. She spread her smile wide. She turned on a flirtation that Owen hadn’t seen in her before now. She had always been feline and sexual. “Perhaps—”

“No, your ass’s hardly an exchange for that much money. Besides, I got all of the great sex I could ever want,” Owen said slipping his arm around Frieda’s shoulders.

Natasha’s face sparked like a wildfire.

“Sex? With Frieda?” Owen turned at the dark voice. A tall attractive dark haired woman was staring at him in clear displeasure. His confidence disappeared leaving only his bruised and punched face.

Elizabeth sat across from Carlos and Davy. Carlos had tried to take the seat next to Elizabeth when they had received their coffees, but Elizabeth had blocked him. Carlos and Davy refused to acknowledge each other sitting in so near contact.

“I bought you coffees, quit squirming,“ Elizabeth said.

“Yeah, thanks.” Carlos said. Davy looked away.

“Do you really want to help me?”

“I’d rather be totally ignorant of your crazy problems, Lizzie,” Carlos said. “But I’m not and I can give you some help. What kind of piece of shit man would I be if I didn’t?”

“Thank you,” Elizabeth said. She could feel she was right before crying. After Brett and her father... With Owen and his selfishness... Carlos and Davy were here.

“What the fuck? What are you doing here?” Carlos scowled as the girl in the green apron came over.

“What?” the waitress said with shock. Her bright electric blue hair almost covered her eyes. Her skin was very pale and her ears were over-filled with piercings. She frowned her dark purple lips. “Um, didn’t you order a cranberry muffin?”

“You’re the snipey little bitch from—”

“Lay off, Carlos,” Elizabeth sighed. “Thank you, Roxxi.”

“You’re welcome!” Roxxi replied.

“If you guys had wanted a muffin you should have said something when—”

“It’s for you,” Davy interjected. “Look, Lizzie… Uh? Beth?” He still didn’t see what he wanted on her face but pushed forward nonetheless. “Listen, I’m a grown man. I can buy a coffee for myself and a girl in need. You didn’t have to—”

“Enjoy Elizabeth!” Roxxi said and put the little plate down in front of Elizabeth. “It’s still really hot. Probably be steaming when you rip the top off. Can I get you anything else?”

“No, when’s Janice going to be free?” Elizabeth asked.

“She’s in the office. Um, fifteen minutes?”

“Good, get back to work,” Elizabeth said. Roxxi brightly smiled and bobbed before she spun off and ran back to the front counter.

“Really?” Carlos said. “You had every opportunity to treat her like she always treated you.”

“I don’t want revenge, Carlos,” Elizabeth said. She pulled the head off of her muffin. It did steam. She smiled, for almost a full heartbeat. “I want to do what’s right.”

“What’s right?” Davy asked.

“Who the fuck knows?” Elizabeth said.

Work at the restaurant was frustrating and lonely. Though the pace was steady and Darlene was doing well for tips. She was training a new guy, and for his three training shifts, the trainer got half of his tips. This should’ve put her over the moon. He knew what he was doing. He was friendly and quick. Customers were loving him. Besides, other than one “How do I get the milkshake machine to stay on?” question, Darlene could hardly be described as sharing knowledge with him.

She wasn’t pissed off that all of this extra money was going to Owen and the harem instead of her own vices. She actually felt better to have constraints on her behaviour. Now, she’d stick to her diet. Now, she’d save her money. The harem sucked, sharing sucked. If it had been Liz and herself—maybe throw in the twins too (just for the kink of it)—but that frustrating green haired slut was only the worst of her problems. Don’t worry, Janice is his cousin! Slut.

“Good job, table 5’re regulars, it’s good to see them smiling like that.” Darlene beamed as she stepped out of the way of her trainee. He went straight for the console and started printing off some bills.

“Thanks,” Trainee said. “You didn’t mention that before they sat in my half.”

“No,” Darlene nodded, “I didn’t think it’d change how well you did your job.”

“Oh, is that a compliment?” he said. “Thanks. This job doesn’t suck.”

“Not on days like this,” Darlene agreed, half-heartedly.

“There are always bad days,” he raised his head. “Your table or mine?”

She looked to the door and saw three heavyset clearly lesbian women coming in. They hadn’t showed up since that first fucked up day. Without Roxxi and Zera as gorgeous totems of power, they looked miserable. Darlene was ready to say “Yours.” in a baptism by fire. Instead, she rallied her best service industry smile, “I got ’em. No sense in ruining your great first day.”

“OK,” he said, without judgment. “Go get ’em.”

Darlene was already moving. She had three menus under her left arm. “C’mon, your table’s waiting.”

“Good,” one said, in sniffy entitlement. The other two followed along meekly.

Darlene stopped, laid out the menus and said, “I’ll be right over with your drinks.”

“It’s fine, give us a minute,” the previously aggressive one said. Darlene beamed and checked her other tables, ran out some drink refills, and returned with the pot of tea for the faux-red haired one.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Missing Roxxi?” Darlene asked, affecting as much concern as she could.

“What?” One, a black and blonde haired military-cut girl, sat up aggressively. The tea-drinker poured herself a cup before it finished steeping. The third, whose brown hair was probably naturally colored, smirked.

“Fuck yeah,” said brown. “She’s awesome. We used to wind her up and set her after you and the bimbo blonde.”

“Oh, I remember,” Darlene said. She held back a smile at the idea that Elizabeth was the bimbo out of the pair of them. There was no reason to believe they didn’t have worse names for Darlene, but there was reason to believe that if they did, they’d say them to her face.

“But then the blonde went full whore and Roxxi jumped on a dick with her,” snarked Black-and-Blonde.

“Whores get paid,” Darlene countered. “Can I get your usual drinks now?”

“Holy shit,” said Redhead. “You know what we want and you’re ready for it. You’re awesome at this, aren’t you?”

“I’m better in bed.” Darlene smirked. “But yeah, you couldn’t do much better in waitresses.”

“Why are you asking about Roxxi?” Brunette hedged her recognition of Darlene’s job.

“Well, it was one thing when it was me and Lizzie and Owen,” Darlene said.

“You’re a whore too?” came out of Brunette’s mouth as “Of course!”

“Again, not getting paid,” Darlene said. “Zera’s on board too.”

“Sarah’s just going to go wherever someone bigger than her is going to tell her what to do and when to get naked,” Redhead shook her head. “Owen’s a dom then?”

Darlene kept herself from smirking at that. Owen was hardly kinky, just, magically entitled. It was hot, but it made her feel like a collectible rather than the focus of attention. Not what she’d come to expect out of a dom. She smiled.

“I wouldn’t mind clearing the board a little,” Darlene said. “You guys know Roxxi started a job at the coffee place up from the library.”

“Across Spring Garden or across Queen?”

“Spring Garden,” Darlene said. “Put to work by Owen’s cousin.”

“Fucking straight girls,” Blonde shook her head in disbelief. The three looked at each other. Darlene saw the gears turning.

“I put in your regular food orders,” Darlene said.

“That’s—yeah, that was the right move,” Redhead said.

“Think I earned a tip today?” Darlene asked.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Brunette said with a smile. The other two didn’t.

Darlene shrugged and walked away from whatever they were scheming. Yeah, herself, Elizabeth, maybe the twins or that planer looking old-flame brunette and the better looking girl with dark hair and old-flame’s husband.

Too many was too many, but too few, or just herself, made Owen a lot less sexy. She’d try to get it down to just a fivesome. But six or seven she could make work. Maybe just push Janice into fast moving traffic. Darlene hummed happily the rest of her shift.

Tamara laid back and arched her shoulders off Owen’s mattress. She kicked her heel into the springs trying to rock her hips. Her large breasts swung nakedly under the lens of Brandy’s camera. Tamara’s fingers tightened around knots of Jewel’s hair.

“Fuck yes! Owen!” Tamara mugged for the camera under lidded eyes. “This little slut is paying back what she stole from me.”

“Sex and orgasms?” Barbara asked.

“And love and money” Tamara swung her head over her left shoulder to glare at the twin interrupting her performance.

“Are you even gay?” Brandy asked. “Jewel’s not.”

“If she was, I wouldn’t be enjoying it this much!” Tamara’s words shattered into a string of Oh!’s and Mmm!’s. She heel-kicked the bed again.

“We really need to do more than the laundry. We should Febreze the hell out of this room,” Brandy said.

“God, I knew vaginas smelled but holy crap!” Barbara agreed.

“Sluts! We’re here to use our bodies for Owen,” Tamara glared. “If you are not going to film and—You don’t say anything!”

Tamara quickly hooked her ankle onto the back of Jewel’s neck. A yank of her foot dragged the woman deeper into cunnilingus. Tamara growled. Jewel clamped both hands tighter on Tamara’s asscheeks.

“Get it down here,” Barbara said, pointing to Jewel’s wagging hips. “Her pussy’s moving funny.”

“Feel free to finger bang her,” Tamara huffed. “But she doesn’t get to cum.”

“Hell of a bachelorette weekend.” Barbara shook her head. Jewel yelped as Barbara impaled pussy on Brandy’s camera. Brandy gestured for Barbara to smile.

A Samsung started buzzing and twisting on the nightstand. Barbara’s ringtone filled the room.

“Again?” Brandy said. “You’d think they’d know better.”

“I’ll hang up on them,” Barbara said, she pulled her fingers from Jewel’s sex. Jewel’s hip chased her, begging for pleasure. Barbara whipped her hand to throw off the wetness. She swiped her phone to hangup.

Tamara humped Jewel’s nose as Brandy eased her camera down to record her best friend in enemy pussy. She had never been part of something so pornographic before. Even the dozens of sexy photos of herself that were in the hands of her husband, ex-boyfriends, and boss were tasteful: just her face and tits, the occasional one after she had been cummed on. This was video. This was the act. She was enjoying herself. She wondered how long it would be until she was on the other side of the camera. When that happened, she wanted to be the Tamara, especially if Barbara ended up being her Jewel.

“What are you looking at, B?” Barbara asked as she reached the nightstand.

“The future,” Brandy answered.

“Shut up!” Tamara shouted between moans, “Don’t be talking if it doesn’t add to the—”

The word she lost was ‘scene’. Her shrieks were more obscene. Barbara picked up the phone from the table.

“Hello, this is Barbara.”

“I thought you were going to ditch your stupid fucking husbands!” Tamara bleated.

“Not married,” Barbara waved her fingers. “No, Tamara’s just going a little powermad pushing Jewel around. Sure. We’re on our way.”

“What?” Tamara yelped. Her orgasm was starting and coming on hard. Jewel winced for the pain in her scalp. Tamara thankfully tugged less hard when the resistance came. Jewel was flushed as deep a red as Tamara’s exerted body.

“Oh, um that was Janice. Owen needs us, time to go.”

Tamara pushed Jewel away but her body was shaking and flopping. Her muscles were tight and spasming. She rolled, trying to get off the bed. She fell like a rock to the floor.

“Bitch!” Jewel said; she looked to Barbara. “Do I have time to wash my face?”