The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

A GIRL CALLED SEAGULL: CHAPTER 1

I had a different name once. Before I was turned into a company fucktoy.

Before Mr Arden got to me, I was called Sarah. I don’t answer to Sarah anymore, of course. Now, I only answer to Seagull. The men who call me that are cruel. They say my name as a precursor to telling me to lie down on my back so they can shove their dicks inside me.

They think I’m a doll and actually they’re right. I’m a warm, wet fuckdoll with limited programming but enough holes to cum in that I’m still valuable.

Before Mr Arden ‘fixed’ me, I was a secretarial assistant, living the same kind of mundane life as everyone else—waking up late and scrambling breakfast in the morning so I didn’t miss the commuter train, living all week just for the weekend and trying not to wonder what the hell it is all even for.

But then, I stepped inside Arden Corp and everything changed.

Mr Arden is cruel in a way that I hadn’t ever seen in real life. He says that he moulds every girl he steals into a different image. With me, he wanted torture. He wanted me humiliated every day that I was in his power. He wanted to show me continuously that I was subject to his will. I am his creation, his doll, his ridiculous fuckslut.

He wanted me to hate the men fucking me, even as they brought me to ecstatic orgasm over and over again. He wanted me to blush with humiliation and degradation every single day. Above all, he wanted the men to laugh at me, even as they fucked themselves deep inside me.

It all started on my first day in the office for my new job.

Mr Arden has some kind of mind control reality shifting powers, though of course I didn’t know that when I rocked up to work. At mid-morning on my first day, he stepped out of his office, dressed in his wool overcoat and carrying an umbrella, and told me to leave the office with him.

So I did. Just like that. He took me to a hotel, a big, luxurious one where the staff don’t look too closely at what the wealthy men like to do. We went upstairs to a large suite where a group of ten or so men waited for us, dressed in tailored business suits.

‘This is Sarah,’ Mr Arden said by way of introduction. ‘She likes sex.’

I remember flushing at his words, blushing fiery red hot across my face and neck. I had been puzzled up until that point about where we were going and why, but I had followed obediently along anyway. I didn’t know why Mr Arden was taking me into a hotel but I hadn’t been too worried.

I hadn’t tried to disobey yet, so I didn’t even realise that I couldn’t.

I should never have gone with him but in fact there wasn’t much I could have done about it. Mr Arden can control women’s minds literally by warping reality. If he tells a woman to believe or think or do a thing, he can make it come true.

Once Mr Arden said, ‘she likes sex’, I liked sex.

I wasn’t stupid, though, and that didn’t mean that I wanted sex with these men. I realised immediately looking at all the men waiting for me that they had one thing on their minds. They were going to fuck me unless I got out of there, like right now.

A cruel looking man who I later learned was called Mr Chambers stepped forward before I could react.

‘I don’t care if you like sex or not, darling,’ he said sniggering, and the other men all laughed along with him. ‘I’m going to bang you so hard you scream.’

Mr Arden hadn’t yet told me to stop talking. So I looked at them all in terror and turned intending to walk away. ‘I’m leaving,’ I said, hoisting my bag higher on my shoulder.

‘No, you’re not, darling,’ said Mr Arden.

That is how powerful he is. Just like that, I wasn’t leaving. The door of the suite seemed inescapably far away and I was frozen in space, unable to take even half a step closer to it.

That was the beginning and ending of my resistance. I’ve been obeying Mr Arden ever since. I know there is no escape but at least my existence has grown bearable over time.

I’m used to being a fuckhole now—fuckslut, fuckdoll, fucktoy, there are so many words for the same thing. The men use me several times each day and each time I respond in the way Mr Arden trained me. I’ve gotten used to the constant penetration, the groping, the thrusting and grinding, their harsh voices grunting in lust, and the feeling of them cumming inside me all over again.

It’s not too bad. After all, I always have a roof over my head and food and a warm bed to sleep in when the men are done with me, and that is more than can be said for many people. I have no more decisions to make, ever again, and I can’t tell you how reassuring that can be.

Anyway, on my first day, I stood, frozen in space, unable to leave.

Mr Arden kept talking, his voice revolving around me in a string of glittering power so tangible I could almost see it. His power is incredible in a way that you wouldn’t believe. There was no way I had the power to disobey him.

‘Take your shoes off and go stand on the coffee table,’ he ordered me.

The words seemed absurd—like, why would I do that, why would I obey him?—but I obeyed him anyway. I pulled off my work heels and walked over to stand on the low wooden table. The men all clustered around me, slapping each other on the back companionably. Clearly eager and ready for an enjoyable morning torturing an unknown girl.

‘Now we’ll have some sport,’ said one viciously.

‘Too right,’ said another, snapping a photo of me with his phone as I stood terrified on the table. I could see that someone else up the back had a phone set up on a tripod, ready to video me. Ready to video everything they did to me today, so he could relive it again and again at his leisure.

‘Get your dress off, you slut,’ said Mr Arden crudely.

The words were shocking but it was even more shocking that I literally couldn’t disobey him. So, I obeyed, my arms trembling. I was trying so hard not to obey him but it was as if I was a puppet. I undid my zipper and pulled my dress off over my head, dropping it on the ground beside the table.

There was nothing alluring, nothing sexy in my movements, but from the appreciative noises the men made, none of them cared. I was wearing pantyhose, and a simple lacy bra from a cheap department store and comfortable cotton panties with a little silken bow.

I didn’t really have time to be embarrassed about my cheap underwear.

Mr Arden flicked his fingers at me. ‘Bra off,’ he said and—just like that—I unclasped my bra with shaking fingers and soon my small, round breasts were horrifyingly in the open air, nipples hardening in the sudden cold. The men whistled and I blushed as their eyes landed on my naked boobs, but I couldn’t stop obeying him.

The orders kept coming at me until I was fully naked, my bra, panties and stockings all lying in a sad pile on the floor beside the table. Mr Arden waved a hand at me expansively as I stood naked and confused on the table. He looked proud of himself, as if he had conjured me out of thin air. I guess, from his perspective, he had. I was his creation and he could do what he wanted with me, regardless for my suffering.

‘Hands above your head, girl,’ he said to me. ‘Let us have a good look at you.’ I obeyed, feeling my breasts lifting as I pulled my hands up, my whole body seeming even more vulnerable and exposed. Mr Arden waved a hand at me again.

‘What do you think, gents?’ he asked, a malicious smile on his face.

I didn’t know yet what the joke was. I didn’t know how cruel these men could be. I also didn’t know how much they hated to be crossed by a woman. I didn’t know that they believed that they had the right to punish one woman for another woman’s supposed faults.

‘The slut’s perfect,’ said Mr Chambers. ‘I’m looking forward to punishing her already.’

Later, I would learn that a woman heading up a rival company had managed to get in ahead of them on some good deals. They had lost an important contract because of her. She must have known something about how Mr Arden worked, because she kept herself safe by never coming in person and never sending a woman to any meetings with him. That was canny of her. His powers don’t work on men, you see.

Anyway, after the company lost the big contract, Mr Arden had advertised for a new secretary and he had chosen me—red-headed, blue-eyed, slender with big hips and thighs but small shoulders and boobs. I saw a photo of the other woman, much later. She looked just like me. That’s why he picked me, and that’s why these men were all standing around me looking hungrily at my naked body.

‘I want her to suffer,’ said one of the men, who I later learned was Mr White. ‘I want her in pain.’

‘I want her humiliated,’ said another man. I think it was Mr Caroll who said that.

‘I want her to be a laughing stock,’ said a third man, his voice rich with cruelty.

‘I want her to know that she is just a hole for fucking,’ said a fourth man, his eyes seeming to strip me even nakeder than I already was, making every inch of my skin feel sensitive and raw.

Mr Arden clapped his hands together to bring their attention back to him. ‘All of that can happen,’ he smiled evilly. ‘Do you want to fuck her before I fix her, gents?’ he asked. ‘Or afterwards?’

I didn’t know what he meant by ‘fix her’ but it seemed that the men did, as they just all started laughing.

‘I’ll go after,’ said one of them. ‘Actually, mostly I’m just here for the Arden circus sideshow,’ he smirked. That man winked at me but it wasn’t a nice wink. ‘You’re Arden’s circus performer now, babe,’ he sniggered at me, and then he gyrated his hips at me crudely.

I flushed, I had absolutely no idea what he meant. I was desperately trying to move my hands back down from above my head to cover my body but I still couldn’t. Then my attention was caught by Mr Chambers—the one who had said he wanted to punish me—stepping forward.

‘I’ll fuck her now,’ he said. ‘And afterwards, of course. And tomorrow.’ He sniggered unkindly while the others laughed again. ‘I want to hurt her. I’ll take her now, before she’s warmed up.’ His eyes ran hungrily over my body, before meeting my eyes, a hard, cruel look in them. ‘I’m going to split you open, bitch.’

‘That makes sense,’ said Mr Arden. ‘You’ve suffered most from our rival’s uppity ways, after all.’ He turned to me. ‘Walk to the bed and climb up onto it. Kneel down when you’re there, like a good submissive bitch.’

His words were horrifying. I wanted to disobey. I still couldn’t believe what was happening to me. But I also couldn’t disobey, so I climbed down off the table and stepped through the group of men to the bed.

They all touched me as I walked past them, of course, groping, squeezing, pinching my skin, my hair, my breasts. I was flushed and breathing heavily when I finally made it to the bed. Feeling like a participant in my own demise, I climbed up onto the soft, silken bedspread, kneeling down to face them all.

Chapter 2 coming soon!