The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Hi! My name is Miss Helpless MC and I do commissioned stories! If you’re interested please email .

Hair Salon

I’m a good person. I promise. I’m a good person but, ultimately, I’m a weak person. Always have been. I had zero spine growing up and as I went through high school this became more and more evident. I didn’t stand up to bullies, let my girlfriends walk all over me and could only be described by my most ardent fans as “a little bit of a weasel”. This all changed when I entered the professional world. My abilities to avoid direct conflict and worm my way around allowed me to rocket up the corporate ladder. I live comfortably, have what I call ‘fuck you’ money.

My story probably starts when I met Martha. Martha is about 5′4″ with thick black hair, a thin waist, pert ass, and massive gravity defying tits. We met in college where she was studying psychology and worked at a hair salon on the side. We dated for about three years and it’s our breakup that caused most of my immediate problems. Martha was a great girl but she wanted to commit and I didn’t. Instead of addressing it face to face I decided to total ghost her. Deleted her from my contacts, graduated a few days later, moved out of state and began my life in corporate America.

I rose through the ranks of an investment firm and I found myself the CEO in about 26 years at the age of 46. I had deteriorated mildly since my youth, some salt has been added to my hair and I’ve put on a few pounds but, personally, I was the same guy I was in college and high school. Last week I had managed to dip, duck, and dive into getting the pitch to a major new investment client and I needed a trim. My hair has gotten a bit unruly and, if I may offer another confession about myself, I have come to love the luxurious. Best food, best wine, and, normally, the best barber in the city, Luciano’s.

I loved Luciano’s, great shop, free whisky and cigars, great conversation, the closest shave you’ll get in New York. However, Luciano’s had just been run out of business by some new chic salon named “Wash”. I liked Luciano’s but I need a haircut and I only pay for the best so I decided to give this new place a try.

Walking into the place a sense of calm washes over me. Light music played in the air as the smell of sage wafted around the salon. Sitting in a free chair a stylist walks up to me and I get a look at the person who will be working on my hair, Martha. I almost let out an audible gasp before composing myself and staring dead ahead. It’s been almost three decades, surely she would have forgotten about me.

“Tim…it’s been a while.” She says, tapping the back of my chair for a minute before clicking her tongue and taking out her supplies. “What can I do for you?”

Martha looks pretty good for her age. She looked stellar in her youth but now, two decades later, she still looks great. It even looks like she had a little work done to size up her breasts a cup. “Just a trim on the sides and a little off the top.” “Wash comes free?” “Sure, wash sounds great.”

Taking the scissors to my hair I am able to relax slightly as Martha gets to work. “So what have you been up to all this time?” I ask, staring at her breasts in the mirror. “I practiced experimental psychology for a while but never made much money. A couple years ago I opened up this salon and it took off.”

“That’s good.” I say, trying to get over the awkwardness. It’s a bit against my nature but I decide to be straightforward and direct. “Hey, listen, I’m really sorry how things went between us. I was very immature.”

Staring at me in the mirror for a few seconds she clicks her tongue and gets back to work. “It’s time for your scalp massage.”

Lowering my chair till I’m lying flat on my back I am treated to the impressive sight of Martha’s bust dangling inches above my head as she begins to rub my temple. Part of my wants to close my eyes and enjoy the massage but I’m absolutely captivated by Martha’s massive globes shaking ever so slightly with each breath and movement. Taking a deep breath I try to concentrate on relaxing as Martha’s breaths cause her breasts to repeatedly get closer to my face. Her fingers gracefully move around my head as all the stresses I carried seem to melt away. “Tim…can you hear me.” Martha whispers, continuing to stroke my head as I find myself nodding. “You really hurt me Tim, did you know that?” She asks, continuing to stroke my head.

Part of me wants to lie, to do my usual duck and dodge while protecting my interests but for some reason I find myself incapable of saying anything but the truth. “Yes, I know I hurt you.” “You don’t care about this do you, I’m no one to you aren’t I?” She asks, continuing to rub. “No, I haven’t given you a second thought before today” I drone, my eyes uncapable of moving off her dangling breasts. “That’s what I thought, so here’s what’s going to happen.”

Raising my chair to an upright position I found myself in a haze as she continued the massage, putting some product in my hair. “I know one of the few things you’ve ever cared about was money so you’re going to start by paying triple for this haircut. Work for normal people are $60 but work for scum like you are $180. Tell me how much you’ll pay for this work.” She coos into my ears as the world around me goes fuzzy. “I’ll pay the $180 to you because I am scum.”

“Good…good. Now Tim, I know you’ve always found me attractive. So I want you to get an erection.”

I normally have more control over myself but just like that I could feel a stirring in my pants. I look around out of self-consciousness only to find that most of the men and women receiving a haircut are in some similar state. I can’t believe I didn’t notice it but some are receiving hand jobs while others are orgasming. Despite this I couldn’t find myself leaving.

Martha continues to purr in my ear as I find my dick growing larger and larger, straining against my pants. Giving a gasp, my dick reaches full mast as I sit there, staring at Martha with a glazed look on my face. “I want you to think of how things were Tim. How things were when we were together.” She states, continuing to rub my head.

“I want you to think of how it was when we slept together. How tight I was. How warm and moist my pussy felt clinging to your dick. Do you remember it Tim?”

“Yes, I remember it. So warm…so tight.” I groan, arching my back as I can practically feel it on my dick. I’m feeling everything she describes as it’s happening. “Do you remember thrusting in and out of me? How I would moan and groan under your touch? Did you like when that happened Tim?”

Without my control, my hips begin pumping. Reaching my hands out as if to grab an imaginary pair of hips I uncontrollably start thrusting into the air. I can’t take my eyes off of Martha’s breasts in the mirror but whenever I close my eyes I can see her in her full glory. Wide hips, gravity defying breasts, and pert pink nipples snow capping her mountains. I can’t differentiate reality from the fantasy anymore. There is no border.

“Remember how you loved my breasts? How you would put your cock between them? How you would say they tasted sweeter than any candy? I want you to taste them Tim, can you taste them?”

Suddenly, in my mouth, I can feel her breasts in my mouth. Smooth and silky with no defections or flaws. If I let myself go into it I can even taste the flavor. Sweet like a light strawberry and heavy against my face they have once again become a reality in my life. I suckle on nonexistent breasts for what feels like hours until Martha eventually speaks again.

“Tim, are you ready to orgasm?”

“Yes” I groan, straining to stay in my seat as Martha’s hands become heavier and heavier on my head. “When I count to three I want you to orgasm.” She coos into my ears as I continue to buck in my seat. I can’t hold it anymore, I need to cum but I must obey her.

“One” She whispers. “Two…three” she says, nibbling on my ear as I practically scream and ruin the front of my pants.

“Good…good boy. I want you now to stand up, give me $300, and come back again for a trim next week.”

Looking around in a daze I stand up against my will, hand her the rest of the money in my wallet, and slowly drift out of the store with the insatiable desire to return again.