The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Is it all right if I just…suck it for a while?”

“Suck it?”

We’ve just been lounging in bed for hours. Her pussy is so wet, she’s soaked the sheets.

“Like, put it in my mouth. Kiss it. Lick it. Your balls, too.”

“Do you want to go again?”

She giggles. “Gosh, can you even? I know I’m spent. You made me cum like…like five times, Ethan.”

The way her voice goes when she says my name, when she says five times, makes my Cock twitch. Heated. Adoring. Over the moon.

Estelle is well out of my league—I knew that when I asked her out, when I took her out, and when I took her home. I didn’t think I had a shot in hell with her. She’s the only daughter of the richest family in Park’s End and probably one of the most gorgeous girls I’ve ever seen. Vibrant green eyes, an achingly beautiful face, the kind of chestnut hair that sparkles like a solar battery, and a body so goddamn tight and fit and svelte that she looks like she was put on this earth to specifically break hearts.

When I picked her up this evening, she already looked bored. She mentioned overtly that if she’d had anything better to do tonight, I would have been shit out of luck. We did dinner and skipped on the movie because she said she had something to take care of at home.

Conversation was stilted and lame—she was dead-set on being bored with me. Oh, well. Gym manager with dreams of running his own physical therapy clinic doesn’t offer too much to the supermodel-hot heiress. No surprised there. You live and learn.

As I dropped her off, I snuck in a kiss on her cheek. She had pulled me in for the hug and I figured, what the hell? We were being friendly—so, smack.

She let out a moan that can only be described as “pre-orgasmic.” The touch of my lips, the hint of my saliva on her skin. Something shifted in her almost right away—and me, too. I went from flaccid to hard in less than ten seconds and I could feel her becoming aware of that. Her big green eyes soaked me in for real for the first time and she purred. Honest-to-god purred.

Six hours later, and we’ve been fucking for four hours straight. After the first time, my cock wouldn’t go down—I had to fuck again and she was only too eager to let me. Her orgasms number two through five came somewhere between my first and second cums.

She asked me to pull out the first time even though she was on birth control. For my second eruption, she begged me to stay in her tight young body.

She said she wouldn’t live right if she didn’t feel my seed “warming her up inside.”

So when she—Estelle, that Estelle, the subject of a lot of my fantasies as I grew up in this town watching her grow up too—says my name like that, I get excited.

“Wow.” Her hand grips my cock harder and strokes just a couple times, bringing it to full attention right away. And this is even though I’ve already cum twice.

On my own, at other times, I’ve cum a few times in a row. Every guy has experimented, right? Usually if you try too many times, you get that hot, empty tugging sensation at the bottom of your balls, a sort of weariness in the central region of your cock head.

Estelle’s mouth so close to my cock now, whispering and moaning, licking her lips—I feel none of that. I feel strong. I feel needy.

“Please, can I suck it? You can go to sleep. Or like, get on your phone or whatever. You can look at videos of other girls. I don’t care. I just want…I need to suck this thing. Fuck. Wow. I’m so horny. How am I still horny, Ethan? You made me cum five times…”

Her mouth moves forward like she’s going to kiss my cock, but she waits. Kissing and licking the air around it. .

“Please? I…” she has tears in her eyes. Fuck she’s gorgeous. “Please? I l-love it…I love you.”

This is unexpected.

But, if the way my Cock grows and touches the edges of her lips is any indication, not unwanted. Estelle is snotty around town. Haughty. Kind of insufferable, actually. Shields always up. My short dinner with her—during which she made sure to sneer and put down the wait staff at least three times—let me know that I would never get close to her.

She wears an armor of callousness to protect something deeply wounded inside her. I had little interest in playing that game of disarmament, and it showed, and so she wasn’t interested in me.

Now she’s naked in my bedroom with tears streaming down her perfect face as she licks up and down my thick, raging Cock and telling me she loves me because of how I fucked her. And made her cum—five times.

And if that was unexpected, then the next thing she says is even more so—and hotter still:

“Please? Please, Master? Please. I need to suck my Master’s Cock. Please?”

At work the next day (or really, later that day), I’m next to a power squat machine watching Genevieve Adleman and Natalie Pounds guide each other through squats. They’re wearing tight, revealing spandex. The kind of girls who go to the gym to work out so that they can show off at the gym how much they work out, so they go to the gym to work out…

They’re in really fucking good shape, is what I’m saying.

They keep their hair teased out and long. A bright sheen of sweat sparkles over their ultra-fit bodies, mid-riffs on display. Genevieve is shorter, brunette, and Natalie is tall and busty and blond. They color-match their outfits so they look like a wrestling tag team; today they’re in pink and white.

They know I’m watching. They point and giggle. I find myself not caring that much.

But, if I keep this up, I’m just going to have to jerk off in the bathroom or something—and I’m the one who has to clean that up.

So, I start to move toward the benches to spray them down and, not paying attention, run into Hendricks.

On my end, it’s a bit of an accidental push. On his end, it’s a straight-up shoulder block. Either way, I’m knocked to the floor and he’s still standing.

“Watch where you’re going, pussy.”

He laughs. A girl near him laughs with him, as do a couple of his hangers-on: less big dudes following the alpha.

He’s the biggest dude at our gym. The kind that doesn’t wear headphones when he works out (though he has them around his neck) because—I don’t know, he wants to hear his muscles growing? You’ve seen his type. Extremely loose tank top. Weird, oddly tight haircut. Biceps the size and general shape of cantaloupes. Backne crawling around his shoulders and neck from whatever (I’m sure perfectly legal) supplements he’s on.

He’s being an asshole, but I wasn’t looking where I was going.

“My bad,” I say. “You okay up there?”

He looks at me like I’m a talking dog.

“You think you could hurt me, punk?”

The girl at his side curls her nails into his forearm. Her nails are pink. Her eyes are big and blue and her entire face is heavily made-up, and she’s wearing platform sandals for some reason in a fucking gym. She’s got a skirt on and she’s chewing gum, and has that kind of pimple/blemish formation around her cheeks and forehead you sometimes see on girls who can’t live without make-up. I don’t want to immediately describe someone as a slut, but, well.

It’s really easy to do today for some reason.

My boss, Vanessa, approaches and gives me a hand up. She has short dark blond hair and a killer customer-service smile.

“Can I help?”

“You need to teach this fucking asshole not to come into my bubble,” says Hendricks. “Or maybe I don’t want to post my shit on instagram and run up your numbers.”

“I’ll definitely speak with him,” says Vanessa. “You’re right. You deserve your bubble.”

“Goddamn right.”

Hendricks, seemingly placated by this, walks off with his hand deep across the ass of his skirted slut. The smell of bubblegum permeates the air behind her.

“Thanks for backing me up,” I say to Vanessa.

She makes a face. “Sorry. But he’s right. He really does drive up our numbers.”

I’m mad as hell at her. I’ve known Vanessa for close to five years now, ever since I got this job right out of high school. She’s almost like a sister to me. She was the manager who hired me, and in the last five years managed to buy the gym out when it was nearly dead. With a few skillful loans and investments in expensive equipment—it turns out gym rats really like quality weights, machines, and lots and lots of flat screens full of sports—she’s turned this place around. I’m her second-in-command now and our shifts really only cross over for about three hours a day. I do mornings, she does evenings.

I have hopes to one day open my own physical therapy center. In a perfect world, I’d open it up right next to her gym. The two would be symbiotic. People hurt themselves all the time at gyms, despite our best intentions and their own level of care and safety; and she could send them my way. When people are all healed up for normal exercise again from my clinic, I could send them her way.

So, when she doesn’t want to back me up in the face of an asshole customer...it’s a blow for sure.

“I would have backed you up.”

“Oh yeah?”

Now she’s annoyed. She’s hot when she’s annoyed. In fact, she’s hot all the time. She’s wearing tight yoga pants and a sports bra with lots of support—which she needs, because her breasts are rather massive. This is what she wears to run her spin class, which starts in about twenty minutes.

“What about them?”

She points over back to Genevieve and Natalie. They’re really going for it—Natalie is bending over to stretch her hamstrings, and Genevieve is bending over her to rub down her muscles. Christ.

Genevieve’s ass is like a peach, and Natalie’s a pair of perfect bubbles. I could grab either one for days and feel satisfied.

“If they were bitches to me—like they are all the time—you’d help me out?”

She has something of a point. But if they knocked her down—I’d definitely not take their side.

“Or what about her?”

She points down the line to the powerclean mats where our resident female insta model Rita Diaz is setting herself up. She has all the accessories—water bottle, headphones, and assistant to hold the camera.

Rita, a brilliantly built brunette, is so hot that I frequently considered changing my schedule to line up with her workouts. As it was, I got two glorious days a week to see her in action. Her account name is sixpackbrunette, and she lives up to it. You could fit a twelve-ounce can between her thigh gap with her standing straight up and her knees touching. I’ve never seen her in a decent outfit; it’s always some mix of swimsuit and lingerie. Stroking to her instagram was one of my guilty pleasures.

She’s wearing tiny spandex shorts so small they should need a prescription, and a sports bra that could pass for a bikini. I watch her lean over, do a beautiful clean with one hundred and fifty pounds, and then do it again ten more times.

Watching her musculature is like witnessing living art. She makes Natalie and Genevieve—hot though they are—look like normal girls. Her hair touches her ass and it’s thick and beautiful and shimmering. The way her tits bounce on every lift...

“Ethan? I know she’s really hot and all, but…you need to take five.”

I’d forgotten Vanessa was there. She points at the frankly massive bulge growing between my legs.

“Or at least get behind the desk, yeah? Customers are starting to notice.”

I see the smirks around the gym. Normally I’d be dying of embarrassment. But something feels different today. Maybe it’s the hundred and twenty—that is one hundred and twenty—texts that I’ve gotten from my lifelong crush Estelle Elizabeth since 8 AM this morning. It’s 11:15 now.

I haven’t read each text—goddamn, who’s got the time for that?—but I read the first few and I think they’re only escalating:

Just saying I love you!

I love you!

I Love you!

I Love You!

Oh god, I like that last one best. The capital L and the capital Y. That feels right to me.

Anyway. I Love You. You’re Amazing. Can I suck you off at lunch today?

Can I suck You off at lunch today?

(I’m working on the capital thing. I really like it. Do You like it?)

Can I suck You off for my lunch today?

And so on.

“Sorry,” I say, not really sorry. “I’m…distracted.”

Three more buzzes—three more incoming messages from Estelle. I think she’s getting desperate. I should turn off the notification, but it’s kind of turning me on.

“I can tell.”

Something about her voice makes my bulge jump a little. She notices the massiveness of my bulge. It feels heavy as fuck, but it’s a good weight. I see her face a little flushed. Her lips wet. Sweat drips down from her neck to her cleavage.

She never sweats. She’s notorious for staying bone dry during her excruciating spin sessions.

“You okay, boss?”

“Just a little…hot. I’m the one asking the questions here, Boner Bob. Would you please try not to ogle some of our most reliable customers with your raging, giant hard-on?”

“It’s giant, is it?”

She licks her lips slightly. “I-isn’t it?”

It kind of is. I’ve always been perfectly adequate in the size department, which has been a blessing in disguise when working at a gym with lots of sparkling hot clientele. A lot of the time, I’m wearing workout pants and shorts, and those aren’t known for their flattening effect, if you catch my drift.

I’m not out there trying to just sport a hard-on looking at the women who come to the gym—I’m not trying to be an asshole—but occasionally this or that shot of cleavage or abs or ass really gets to me and these things happen.

But today it feels bigger. Feels longer, thicker. Heavier. It feels like I could take Genevieve or Natalie over there and pin them to the wall no matter how much they protested and fuck them until they screamed my name just like Estelle did, five times, and then—

“Ethan?”

I’m holding Vanessa’s wrist. It’s soft. All her skin is soft. I’m staring down her sports bra and directly into her tits. I watch in real-time as her nipples push against the fabric of her bra, tenting, becoming solid and erect. My cock feels wet; I can feel sticky hot precum sliding down my thigh. Vanessa tries to pull away, hard at first and then kind of halfheartedly.

“You’re really…strong.”

She’s looking at me in a way she never has before. Like a man. Like a suitor. I don’t even remember grabbing her, that’s how zoned out I was.

“Well, I work at a gym.”

She actually titters. “Can I like, please have my wrist back now? I have to…um.” She gulps. “I have to do something. With…um…”

“Spin class.”

She nods urgently. I let her go.

“Yes. Spin class.” She’s spinning, tittering, looking at me, toying with her hair. She’s never acted like this with me before. “Just have to…have to make a quick stop…”

She runs to the bathroom. Her face flushed; her breasts heaving. When she comes out fifteen minutes later—five minutes late for class, which she never is—she eye-fucks me from across the room.

So, let’s get this out of the way, I guess—I live with my mom.

I mean she’s not really my mom. I usually just call her Cindy and reserve “Mom” for when we’re really fighting or really serious.

She’s my step mom; my dad is long gone. I’ve known her my whole life, though. We also live with my sister—who was adopted. My mother, saint that she is, took care of us both even after Dad took off way back when.

Cindy works at a hospital. She’s constantly overworked, definitely underpaid, and never complains. She looks like a sitcom-version of a mom: always perfectly coiffed and prepped, short dark hair, wearing scrubs and with about fifteen different responsibilities that somehow she manages with aplomb.

My sister, Sally, also lives with us. She’s eighteen, a senior in high school, and pretty much a genius. Last year, she built a robot from spare computer parts that shot free throws from thirty feet away and delivered espresso. I don’t know why you would want such a machine, but it’s diverse array of ability won the state championships and a hefty scholarship. She’s your typical skinny nerd and easily passes for Cindy’s natural daughter.

When I get home, usually Sally is about five minutes out, and the three of us typically spend about half an hour noshing and talking about our day.

Instead, I see Cindy at the kitchen table already with two frankly spectacularly gorgeous women who I don’t recognize. One is a brunette with green eyes; the other blonde and blue-eyed.

“Uh, Mom?” I ask. “Is everything all right?”

“Oh, he’s here!” the brunette squeals, clapping her hands excitedly. “Oh my god!”

“Hi darling! Come on in! Estelle was just telling me all about your whirlwind romance. You’re so darling, the three of you.”

There are so many things wrong right away that I can barely process them.

First—Cindy never calls me darling. She never says darling. Now she’s said it twice in one breath.

Second—her eyes are all glassy. Her voice almost sounds like it’s coming from far away even though it’s coming from her mouth and I’m watching her speak.

Third—three of us? Three of who? Whirlwind romance?

Finally—Estelle?

Oh shit, that’s Estelle?

I look at the brunette at the table, standing up now to greet me. She’s dressed for a hot night at the club in a spectacularly tight red dress that plunges deep down her cleavage, both exposing it and pushing her brilliant young tits together and up. The fabric must be a nanometer thick and yet it clings to her like a second-skin. Tight leather high-heeled boots wrap around her thighs all the fucking way down to the floor and a sexy, short leather jacket with big useless white gold buckles completes the look.

But that—while sensational, and pretty much exactly how I like to see a woman dressed—isn’t why I didn’t recognize her.

She was already beautiful, right? I went on and on about it before. Lifetime crush and everything.

She’s…I can’t even find the words now. Stunning? Ethereal? Otherworldly?

Maybe it’s that.

She looks like another fucking species with Cindy in the room. Cindy—overworked, underpaid, ground to the fucking bone. Pale and bloodless, hair a mess, deep circles under her eyes. Beauty somewhere, there, but washed out like a painting left up on a brick wall on the bad side of town.

Estelle is taller now. How the fuck is she taller? And much thinner. I had noticed that she had put on maybe ten or fifteen pounds since high school, but didn’t mind all that much. But now she’s maybe twenty inches around at her waist, which is utterly flat.

Her hips are thicker, though, and her tits gorgeously pert and bigger by an extra two cup sizes. Her thighs are so thin there’s a three-inch gap between them at her crotch—extremely visible through the flatteringly tight-tight-tight tug of her minidress. Her hair is longer, thicker, flowing down to nearly her ass in incredible waves.

All natural—no weaves, no extensions. Her hair was shoulder-length yesterday. It was shoulder-length this morning when I kissed her goodbye.

Her skin glows. Her eyes glow. Her face is more sculpted, every angle more severe and polished. She looks like she’s spent three hours with a glam squad but there’s just not time enough in the day for all the work that this must have taken.

What the fuck is happening?

For a few moments, I just don’t care. She struts up to me and draws me in for a long, lingering kiss. In her eyes, I can see that I’m the only man who exists for her. She does this hot-as-fuck thing where her lips and jaw shudder right before kissing me—and then after, she rakes her teeth against my chin and cheek.

“You’re so fucking hot in that gym stuff,” she moans. “I missed you today. I’ll do anything for you. I love You, Master.”

She says this all loud—very loud. Cindy clearly hears us and just looks on, smiling at us both like we’re heading out for homecoming and I’ve just given her a corsage. Estelle’s leg slides up around my hip, and her other drags up into my crotch, massaging my bulge there. I’m holding up her entire weight on my neck and it feels like there’s barely more than fifteen pounds there.

Am I stronger? Her fingers slide down my back and I feel her tips reveling in the pulses of rippling muscle there.

“Estelle.” I shake my head. I’m so fucking turned on—and my Mom is right there. “Estelle, hey. Listen.”

I take her by the hips and set her down. She giggles delightedly at how strong I am. She’s so light.

“Listen,” I say again. “That’s my mom right there. And…I don’t know who the fuck that is.”

“Would you listen to him?” Estelle says to Cindy. “He doesn’t know his own girlfriend.”

“He’s just playing,” says Cindy. “He’s always been a playful boy. And so strong. We’re so proud of him.”

I look at the blonde a little closer. Her mouth is opening slightly and then closing. Her eyes fixated on me. She looks like she’s moaning except she’s not making a sound.

“I told her to be quiet,” says Estelle. “I didn’t want her to freak you out. That’s why I took care of your Mom, too. We’re all on the same team, baby. I made sure of it.”

The blonde is cumming, I realize. She’s cumming over and over again. She’s gorgeous and the flush in her cheeks only makes her seem more so. Her outfit is remarkably similar to Estelle’s—which I’m suspecting is no accident—with a blue dress and dusted white leather jacket and boots.

She’s long and tight and thin and busty just like Estelle is, only less so.

Because—the end of that thought goes—Estelle needs to be better than her. Which is hot as fuck, damn.

“God,” says Estelle, feeling my bulge with a nimble hand. “Are you bigger? I saw you were taller. And like, bigger in your muscles and stuff. But you’re bigger here too, aren’t you?”

The feeling of her hand—the hand of this fucking goddess—on my cock is almost too much to ignore. I’m trying to make sense of this. This feels chaotic.

“Estelle.” I shake my head again, trying to clear the arousal cobwebs. “I’m having trouble keeping up here. What’s happening with you? What have you done? Why is Cindy…like that? And the blonde? And you?”

“I texted you all about it, silly. Was it okay to get a blonde? Her name is Sophia. When you didn’t text back I just went with my gut. I thought you’d want variety to begin with since my hair is darker. And now we’ll have room for someone with really dark hair later. And maybe a redhead too? Plus, she was the hottest girl at the boutique. And your mom, well.” She shrugs. “I figure, whatever you’re doing is happening to me, what if it happens to her too? And then we could see what happens if—”

“What the hell is going on?”

Sally’s home. She’s swinging her backpack down to the nook next to the backdoor and storming into the kitchen.

“Who are you people? Mom, what’s happening? Who are the strippers? And…Ethan?” She stumbles a bit. “Are you…is that you?”

“Sally, I can explain.”

I step in front of her and hold up my hands. She looks at me, expectant, trusting. I struggle for several seconds.

“I…oh, fuck. I can’t explain.”

Sally only becomes more annoyed. “Who are the girls?”

“They’re his girlfriends, dearie,” Cindy says in that hot sing-song voice. “Don’t you recognize them? They’re so lovely. I think of them as daughters already, more or less.” She gasps happily. “That would make the three of you sisters, wouldn’t it? Oh, how dreamy.”

Sally’s eyes bug out wide and she looks at me, Estelle, and Sophia. “This is nuts. I have to get out of here. Whatever...drug party is happening, I don’t want any.”

“No!” I say.

If she leaves, she could tell someone—she probably would tell someone, and I don’t want her to tell anyone until I know what’s happening. Are we all on drugs? Can I go to jail for this? This feels illegal.

“Cindy,” says Estelle. “Hold her.”

“Hold me?” scoffs Sally. “What the fuck, bimbo? Who are you anyway? And—mom!”

Cindy, obediently, holds Sally with her arms behind her back. Sally squirms and twists, legs flailing. Estelle kisses my ear with a “watch this” and then struts up to Sally with a smile and touches Sally’s forehead.

There’s a green flash from Estelle’s eyes and then Sally goes limp.

“You can just be a good girl for Ethan from now on.”

“I can just be a good girl for Ethan from now on.”

It takes me a second to realize it’s Sally who says it. Her voice, like Cindy’s, sounds far away and sing-songy. Her eyes are blank and glassy, reflecting the green blaze from Estelle’s gaze.

“You’ll do anything he says.”

“I’ll do anything he says.”

Sophia—not under Estelle’s gaze—nonetheless repeats everything Estelle says with Sally in mute unison.

“You need to be his good girl.”

“I need to be his good girl.”

Cindy is whispering along with Estelle now. God. She’s smiling. She knows the words to this song already. Sally has stopped struggling entirely.

“You love him more anything or anyone.”

“I love him more anything or anyone.”

I’m so fucking hard. Estelle winks at me.

“You obey Ethan.”

“I obey Ethan.”

Sally has outstanding cheekbones. Truly extraordinary. They’re so much more beautiful when she’s repeating back Estelle’s commands.

“You obey me.”

“I obey you.”

“You love obeying me almost as much as You love obeying Ethan.”

“I love obeying you almost as much I love obeying Ethan.”

Sally’s lips are so pouty and puffy. Her skin is pale and pristine. God. I’d never really looked at her like a young woman before, but she definitely is.

“You don’t care about anything as much as you do loving, serving, and obeying Ethan.”

“I don’t care about anything as much as I do loving, serving, and obeying Ethan.”

“Sophia and I are part of your new family.”

“Sophia and you are part of my new family.”

“You love your new family.”

“I love my new family.”

“You’re happy to serve him.”

“I’m happy to serve him.”

Not so long ago, someone even younger than Sally would have been the wife of someone already. Maybe just now pregnant with her first child. That makes my Cock swell too—thinking of her tight, young barely legal body swelling up with fertile urgency...

“You’ll do anything for his Cock.”

“I’ll do anything for his—”

“N-no!” I strangle the word out. “No! Fucking christ, no.”

She was going to make Sally want my Cock. Make my, sweet, innocent, one-hundred percent barely legal virgin never-even-kissed-or-had-a-boyfriend sister want my Cock...

Oh fuck, why is there so much precum streaming down my legs again?

Estelle steps away with a wicked wink, biting her lip at me. Sally slowly sits down in Cindy’s lap, who cradles her like a child, and the two of them look up at Estelle with awe and admiration. I can see their gyrating hips, the way their tits press into each other in a way that is much more than familial. They press their faces against each other.

“Oh, what the fuck,” I say.

I realize now—more or less—what’s happened to Cindy and what must have happened to Sophia.

“Pretty cool, right?” Estelle says. She turns to me with a killer, girlish, happy smile. I’m so fucking turned on by her. “Women are just things and objects and trophies for you, and only really have value if they’re owned by you…so now they can have real value. Because of me. Isn’t that great?”

Estelle presses herself into my body. She starts tugging at my Cock under my clothes. Precum puddles around my socks into my shoes. Estelle moans, seeing it gather. Drool forms along her lips and starts to coat her throat.

“I…I need a minute for this.”

I need to undo this. There’s like several layers of monstrosity happening, all at once, within the past ten minutes or so and I’m having trouble keeping up with them all.

“Take me upstairs?” she asks, stroking more urgently. “Then I can explain without any distractions.” Her hand grips my cock tighter; it feels like a crowbar in her fingers. “Well…without too many distractions.”

I know what she has on her mind. It’s on my mind too. It’s almost all I can think of. Estelle in that red dress looks so fucking right. Fuck. And Sophia is still cumming; she’s been cumming this whole time…

“My…my family’s here. I don’t want to fuck if they’re here. You’re pretty loud, you know.”

She giggles and kisses me softly. “They don’t mind. Do you, Cindy?”

Cindy pulls away from Sally, whose eyes are still blank; her nipples are hard. I try not to think about how much it excites me to see her young, slender chest so clearly suffering from arousal.

“That sounds wonderful, dear. I already think of you like a daughter. I’ll come up later with some sandwiches when I hear the moaning stop. If they’re good and you like them, I’d like to ask you to think about letting me watch—so that I can take notes for Sally.”

I find out in short order—after undoing Estelle’s silence command—that Sophia has a British accent and sounds really sexy when she says my name.

“Ethan, I Love You. You are my Lord and Master. I belong to You. I am owned by You. I cum for You. Ethan, I Love You…”

She chants this nonstop in one corner of my room, on her knees, looking at Estelle and I on the bed. I can’t tell if it’s crueler to make her be quiet or to have her keep saying it.

Estelle and I, meanwhile, are making out madly on the bed. My hand is up between her tiny dress and I’ve found out that either she isn’t wearing panties or the nonstop gushing of her pussy has dissolved what little lace was ever there. Her folds open up to me with joy, parting to allow entry to clenching tight vaginal walls pulsing with the joy of kissing me, being close to me, knowing me.

“You’re so handsome,” Estelle moans. “So fucking handsome. So good. I adore you. I love you. Please own me. Please own me. Please own me...”

Oh, and here’s something new—Estelle’s tits leak hot, sticky, lubricating milk all over. They leak easily through her micro-thin dress and only press the fabric tighter against her killer body. As we kiss and rub on each other, the milk and her pussy honey gives us a hot, squishing, shlucking soundtrack.

I’m a little swept away, I admit.

I should be asking what the fuck is going on.

I should be asking why she’s like four inches taller, thirty pounds thinner, two cup sizes bigger, and why her tits are milking all over my shirt even though she’s not pregnant.

At least I don’t think she’s pregnant.

And I should be asking how the fuck she can control minds like those of my sister and mom and Sophia..

Instead I’m grunting and urging her roaming hands on my cock, which she frees from my shorts and begins happily stroking. Her hand is covered with her own juices and soon with my pre-cum, and every movement is slick and sure.

“I fucked them up, Master,” she moans into my ear. “I fucked up their minds for you. I fucked them up so bad. They’re yours now. Yours to use…yours to abuse…”

I enjoy kissing her soft lips, sucking neatly on her pink gorgeous tongue for a while longer, before I realize what she’s said.

“Wait,” I say, shaking my head and moving away slightly. Her tits, steadily dripping that intoxicating milk, still drip down my arm. “What do you mean, them?”

“Your mom and sister,” she explains. “And Sophia, too.”

Sophia moans at the mention of her name. I see her body surge forward, but stay in place, like a tree too well-rooted to fall over in hurricane winds. She’s hoping to be asked to join.

“You mean…Cindy and Sally, they…they’re like her now?”

I point to Sophia.

Estelle shrugs. “Well, not quite. I think they’d go along with it if you wanted to fuck them, but they wouldn’t be excited about it until after your Cock was inside them. Ungh.” She strokes me intently as she thinks about this. It’s distracting. Consent means so little to her. “Do you want to fuck them, Master? I assumed you didn’t, but then I saw how hard You got when I was fucking Sally’s mind and thought you did, and now I think you don’t...but we’re talking about it now and you’re sooo hard. I can go back and change them…”

“N-no!”

Fuck. That would be so wrong. Sally is so young. Her body is already nearly as tight as Estelle’s and she hasn’t been changed by whatever changing Estelle. I can’t even imagine how slender…how tight…

Precum spurts from my Cock. Estelle giggles delightedly, stroking still.

“It seems like you do, Master.”

“No,” I say firmly. “Leave them alone for now. And, for that matter, no more gathering slaves at clothing stores. Got it?”

“Of course, Master.”

“And…how did…how is any of this possible?”

“I texted you all about it. Didn’t you read my texts?”

“You sent me like three hundred texts, Estelle.”

“I had a lot to say about how much I worship you. Isn’t that appropriate?”

“I…”

I’m not sure what to say. I get the feeling that Estelle used to be the kind of girl who would read as much into a ten-minute gap of silence between texts as a literature critic would Ulysses. Now she’s completely unfazed by me not reading an essay she wrote about loving me.

“Would you just sum it up for me? Please?”

Sophia moans again, clearly cumming. On autopilot.

“She wants to join us, you know.”

“I…I mean yeah, but you made her want to join us.”

“You made me want to make her, so I made her…so you made me made her want to join us.”

I can’t keep up with this level of causality.

“This is insane. Can you see that? You don’t have to do whatever I want.”

“Of course I do. You’re my Master. And anyway, if Sophia doesn’t really want this, then neither do I. Whatever is happening to her is happening to me. And you seem only too happy to fuck me.”

“I…but that’s different. You’re acting…like you know what’s happening. Like you have free will.”

“Oh, I do have free will. Of course I do.”

I feel some relief.

“Oh, thank god.”

“It’s just that it’s completely dominated by your will. I can feel it in there, somewhere,” she taps her head, “withering away. Screaming. Screaming bloody murder.” She smiles, as if listening. “Oh yeah, she’s super mad. I think she’ll die eventually. She’s already maybe a quarter as strong as she was this morning.”

She’s only stroking me more intently as she discusses the death of her free will.

“Fuck. This is so fucked up. This is evil.”

“So?” She shrugs, still stroking me with two hands. “Be evil. You’re clearly born to be bad.”

“No. I don’t have to have to…fucking hell, you’re so good at that.” I groan, just looking at her heaving, milk-dripping tits as she strokes me off. They’re perfect. Milk drips constantly into her grip, lubricating her strokes. “I don’t have to…be evil. I just have to get this under control.”

“You are in control,” says Estelle. “It’s really hot.”

“Then what’s going on with her?” I point to Sophia.

“Oh, that chanting thing? That’s just because I ordered her to. Here, Sophia? Cut it out. Kneel at attention and wait for an order.”

Right away, Sophia stops touching herself. Hands on thighs. Mouth parted slightly.

“How can you do that?”

Estelle shrugs. “After we fucked, after you made me cum again, and again, and again, and again, and again…this morning after you left, I just kept cumming. Every time I did, I could feel a little piece of me die. My free will, I think. But it felt so good, I kept doing it. And then it was like I realized the slave-me was taking over. That’s what felt good. Slave-Me taking control. The old-me was what was dying. And Slave-Me made it feel so. Fucking. Good. Master. And now the Slave-Me is the Real-Me.

“After that were several, several thousands of hours of realization. My mind went away somewhere. In real time, it was like, just a few minutes. But in my mind, it was...lifetimes and lifetimes. Slave-Me brought all these new, important thoughts with her takeover. Like if a business is taken over by a new firm, and they use new email systems and account processing programs and stuff like that? Everything old was swept out; everything new was devoted to You. Because my personality doesn’t really matter. My wants and desires never mattered to you. All that mattered to You was how hot I was. So I just…decided to be hotter.”

“You…decided. To change your body.”

“It was easy once I knew how.”

“But…how?”

“I could ask you the same question. You’re six inches taller than you were this morning. And you have a six-pack. And your Cock is like a foot long now. Ungh. Can I suck it?”

Her drool, warm and wet, lands in a long line of saliva over my Cockhead. She rubs it in with her thumb.

“Not now. How are you controlling others?”

“It’s just…I know what you deserve, Master. You deserve so much. You deserve every beautiful woman on her knees for you. And I had to be who you deserved. I want to make them kneel. Make them beg. I want them all to bow down to You. To Your Greatness. Your Cock. Your Excellence.”

Her beautiful face takes on a crazy intensity.

“Sh-shit. Estelle.” I shake my head. “That’s so hot.”

She smiles; it’s the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. “I know.”

“But…if I’m just making you feel that way…it’s not real. It’s not really happening. It’s just in your head. In my head. Somehow. We have to undo it. Fix it.”

“I don’t want to go back. Look, Old-Me? Old-Me sucked. Old-Me was full of spite and resentment and rage and sadness. She suffered from bipolar and had treatment for it constantly that failed constantly. But Slave-Me? You reset my body chemistry. It’s all fixed. I’m more balanced than ever. Let’s say,” she kisses my ear, “let’s say that I am some invader. In Old-Me. That I’m something new. That’s how it feels. Don’t I have a right to exist?”

“But I put you there. Somehow.”

“You did. And if you un-put me, you’ll be killing me.” She looks at me with big, beautiful green eyes. “Do you want to kill me just for loving you for creating me, Daddy?”

Ungh.

That’s a big word for me right there. Daddy. Being Estelle’s Daddy...hearing her scream it...

“But…the Old-You…you said she’s dying in there.”

“She is. I’m killing her.” She sounds so fucking excited. “It’s my right. We’re fighting for the same mind space. Is it my fault that I’m better and stronger and sexier and everything of what You want in every possible way? Is it my fault that I’m winning because I’m fueled by the endless cums of worshiping the One True Male on the face of this earth?”

“I…I don’t know.”

My gaze rests on Sophia. So hopeful. So beautiful.

“Yes, look at her, darling.” Estelle strokes me harder than ever before. My balls are in a puddle of my precum, which seems endless. “You were made for conquest. You’re so hard. So strong. You don’t even have to try to own me, to own her, and you do. Embrace your nature, Master. Embrace the Conquest. Take her. Take what You deserve…”

I want to. I take several steps over toward Sophia. Estelle attaches herself to me the whole way, keeping in time with me; an extension of my being. Sophia, looking up at us, drools and moans. Her Mistress standing over her with the Cock she was mind controlled to want.

“Look at her, Master.” She grips me tighter. “Look at her, baby. Why is she so fucking hot if you’re not going to fuck her? Hot objects like her belong on their knees for you. Hot trophy blondes deserve to be fucked by you. Why can you completely fuck my mind so that I can completely fuck her mind if you’re not going to completely fuck both of us together?”

“Fuck. Estelle…it’s so wrong, though.”

She ignores me. “Right now…she wants you because I told her to want you. I made her want you. But once you fuck her…once you claim her, once you take her…she’ll belong to you. She’ll want you for you. She’ll belong to your Cock.”

This is all so incredibly exciting and Estelle has been stroking me off the entire time. Estelle might think I’m a god, but I’m still definitely a human. I need to cum. My stance shifts; I hug Estelle into me even tighter.

“Oh, yeah…”

She knows what’s happening right away. I felt some shame about having to cum without fucking either of them, but it’s washed away in Estelle’s excitement. She wants this. She wants me to cum, to be pleasured. It’s all that matters to her. Even better for her that she’s the one stroking me off so that I orgasm.

“Do it, baby,” she coos.”Cum for us. Cum, please? Please? Please?”

She’s so gorgeous, Sophia is so gorgeous, this is all so uncontrollably hot, I’ve been sporting a hard-on since this morning and I can’t take it anymore and—

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I spray everywhere in front of me. But right in front of me is Sophia—so I spray everywhere all over her. My cum lands on her tits, her neck, her face, her torso. It stains her dress and load after load keeps spurting out of me. It’s more than I’ve ever cum, ever, by at least five times.

“There’s so much…” Estelle oohs and ahhs. “You’re a superman. You’re my superman. Oh my god. How can you cum that much?”

Sophia is no longer frozen. She’s obviously cumming from touching my seed all over her body, and she touches it at will. Rubs it into her body like lotion. Ripping at her dress, revealing her naked tits underneath. She coats each tit with my cum individually, cupping and stroking, tweaking her nipples with cum-dripping fingers. I watch in amazement as slowly the cum seems to be absorbed by her skin.

Normally when cum lands on skin, it dries out. Leaves a little patch like old glue.

But on Sophia, it’s working like lotion. Moisturizing. Beautifying. Her shin is shining.

“Master, please?” she says in that sexy British accent. “Please, may I suck it? You’re still hard…”

“Oh, god,” Estelle says. “He is still hard. How are you still hard, baby? You’re so strong…”

Estelle is stroking me so long and hard and Sophia has moved so close that Estelle’s fingers are slapping into Sophia’s lips. Neither seems to mind.

I watch, with some heretofore somehow-untapped reserves of amazement, as my cock grows in Estelle’s hand.

Growing to accommodate the extra slavecunt I need to fuck.

The thought comes unbidden in my mind, but turned on as I am, it feels right. I continue to watch as Sophia’s torso elongates—even kneeling, she’s getting taller right before my eyes. Her hair is growing longer, blonder, her eyes even bluer. She was already gorgeous; now she’s rivaling Estelle.

It’s like I don’t just get the pick of the litter. I get the pick of the Brunette litter and the pick of the Blonde litter.

“She’s moving,” I say, not quite understanding. “You said she was under your control?”

“I’m not under either of their control anymore,” says Sophia. “I’m under your control. The second your cum touched me, I switched over. It was so much faster than any of the other times.”

“Either? Other times?”

I’m confused. Feeling a bit faint. Estelle is so obsessed with stroking my cock and moaning about how marveled she is at its hardness that she’s barely paying attention. Her bare pussy convulses constantly with orgasm after orgasm. Her brain is a pleasure machine, for me and for her. I step forward, trying to gain my bearings, but this just shoves my cock right into Sophia’s waiting, wet, willing mouth.

I tried so long—so hard—not to do it. Maybe you could say I should have run, got a hotel room, jerked off until I had sorted myself out. Maybe I should have. All I can say is that running away from your lifelong crush transformed into some kind of seductive goddess is not an eventuality my code of ethics had prepared for.

Neither am I prepared for the intensely gratifying wet, patient, eager warmth of Sophia’s mouth. I can’t describe it, but her mouth fucking feels British. Proper. Refined. Elegant. Unabashedly classist—a mouth that defines a clear strata of experiences that were allowable and only allows itself the very best and at the top of that pyramid is me.

“Oh.” I grunt, sliding deep into Sophia’s mouth and then her throat. Her esophagus tightens on my cockhead. “Oh, goddamn.”

“Yesss,” Estelle hisses, pushing on my hips to fuck her face deeper. “Feel what you Deserve, Master.”

I can’t stop now. It feels too good.

What follows is not so much a blowjob as it is me fucking the hell out of Sophia’s face. She loves it—moaning through her mouthful of cock and constantly cumming on the floor beneath me. Her cunt honeys the carpet, making it sticky and wet in a huge puddle.

Estelle attaches herself more firmly to my side.

She’s popping her foot like we’re having our first kiss at the end of a romantic comedy and giggling and exulting and grinding her hot tiny cunt against my hip. Her tits leak milk all over my bicep and run down my body into Sophia’s face, so the blond beauty is tasting milk and precum at the same time.

I’m gripping Sophia’s hair in some impromptu pigtails, forcing her mouth up and down my cock in the same motion as you might use a rowing machine. Sophia’s eyes burn with reverent obedience, so happy to be used like this.

Estelle gets the idea that I’ll cum faster if I look at her face—and she’s right. She kneels down in front of me and next to Sophia. Clamping her body onto Sophia’s. Wrapping her naked, milk-leaking tits around Sophia’s head—enveloping her like an airplane pillow—and then holding tight to my hips. Even if Sophia wanted to get away, she couldn’t. I push my hips back, relishing Sophia’s perfect plush posh lips sliding down my cock, and then Estelle—giggling madly and staring at me with her perfect, arrogant face—pulls my hips back in.

I can’t take it. Holy shit, I can’t take it. It’s a thousand erotic dreams come true all at once.

“I have to cum,” I groan, hands shaking on top of Sophia’s skull.

They moan enthusiastically.

“Yes, Master.” Estelle starts fucking Sophia’s skull against my cock faster, harder. “Do it, Master. Cum in your new slave. Claim her. Claim her forever.”

Her heavy tits slip and slide around Sophia’s head with every stroke, push, and pull. She’s raking her teeth against the side of Sophia’s head in her lust. I lose all control, fucking with abandon, my hands running against both of their faces, their hair, their shoulders.

“Yeah…yeah, fuck yeah…”

I explode with passion down Sophia’s throat. It’s even more than last time—and last time was more than I had ever cum before. I can feel it pumping, pulsing down her throat, load after load, shot after shot of pure alpha male seed fucking her up.

Her eyes get glassy and wide. She stops responding, stops moving. Worried, I pull out but keep cumming, and Estelle is right there with her mouth suckling tight around my head and shaft.

Sophia falls to the ground, trembling and quaking in constant orgasm. Her body shifts and changes, more than before, becoming subtly longer and tighter and thinner and bustier.

Suddenly, there’s another voice in the room.

“And just what do you think you’re doing with my slave?”

Okay, look—I know I’ve said this a lot today.

I know that it’s probably losing meaning at this point.

But the woman who just showed up in my room?

Who just fucking—appeared—out of nowhere telling me to get my hands off of Sophia?

All right. She is, without exaggeration, and with full understanding that I keep fucking saying this, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

It’s a completely different type of beauty than Estelle’s or Sophia’s. Maybe that’s my problem. I’m trying to identify them in terms of the quantity of their beauty but it’s really more about different varieties of beauty.

Estelle is like the ideal version of an All-American girl. Sun-kissed skin. Classically shaped nose, clinically sharp jawline, bright green eyes, thick brunette hair.

When I see Sophia, I think queen. Like, Queen of England, or Queen of some fantasy realm in a thousand-page book about orcs and sorcerers. She’s regal, sophisticated, and classy. Blond. Porcelain skin. Defined cheekbones, soft lips, arching brow.

This new woman, whoever she is, is like an Amazonian Empress. Tall. Perfectly bronze skin. Amazing ab musculature. Brilliantly long, thick, flowing hair that wraps all the way down to her ankles in locks and waves. Like a mermaid’s hair; it floats somehow around her body in a wild, sexy perfectly-arranged bed-head mess. Her hair is so long that the sheer clothing she’s wearing—which there is not much of, some clingy white triangle panties and a similarly clingy, tight sheer white crop top—is only accentuated by her hair as if it were almost part of the outfit.

“F-fuck,” I groan, seeing her.

My Cock—and yeah, I’ve been capitalizing it; it’s really making a name for itself lately—is at full attention at seeing this beauty in my room. I see her and want to fuck. I don’t think anyone could not want to fuck her, male or female. She’s sensuality incarnate.

“I’ll ask again,” she says coolly, staring pure hate at me. “What. The fuck. Do you think. You’re doing. With my. Slave?”

“Fucking her and taking her for himself, obviously.”

That’s Estelle, who has unlatched her mouth from my Cock and is now kneeling and hugging one leg, like the love interest on the cover of a smutty adventure novel.

The Amazonian Goddess sneers. “How dare you.”

“I’m sorry, Lilith…” Sophia moans from the ground, crawling up to all fours. “He’s so, so good…”

“Look.” I hold up my hands. “I’m confused. I don’t know how any of this is happening. Maybe we can all just talk this out and come to some kind of understanding—”

“Understand this,” says Lilith, holding out a hand. “Kneel.”

I feel an urge to. I can feel something pushing its weight on me. Is this what I’m doing to Estelle without knowing?

But of course I don’t. I don’t have to—I’m just feeling the desire to remotely. It’s becoming more remote over time, like I’m building an immunity.

“I said, kneel.”

Again I feel an urge—but it’s even less than before.

She looks frustrated now. Not used to not having her way.

“You’re lucky I’m not there in person. I would have you cumming until you died, begging to say my name.”

I can see now that there is some kind of ethereal nature to her presence; a tinge of soft purple light around her form. She’s projecting her image somehow, like a hologram, except I’ve never seen a hologram that had anywhere near this kind of fidelity.

I don’t know who she is entirely. I can make a few guesses. A mistress of some kind to Sophia.

I try to pull some threads together. Estelle—in the clothing store—found Sophia and took control of her. Somehow that went unnoticed by Lilith. Maybe because of Estelle’s sex? No problem with a female controlling another female? Maybe Estelle’s control is less permanent than mine?

Whatever it was, when my control hit Sophia in full force—when I came down her hot young throat and claimed her for my own—alarms went ringing in Lilith’s head. She tracked Sophia through whatever link they had, and here she is now, staring me down.

This is a best guess, but from what I’ve seen so far, it makes the most sense. Now—why would Lilith have these powers? I don’t fucking now—why would Estelle? Why would I?

If mind-controlling gorgeous women into beautifully hypnotizing fuckslaves is on the table, I’m not really going to rule much else out.

I’m a little mad at Lilith, honestly. I’m happy to talk this out. Come to some kind of solution or arrangement. But her first instinct is so fucking hostile that she wants to take over my entire life!

And yeah—yes, okay. I’ve done that to Estelle. And to Sophia. But I think you’ll agree there were some rather extenuating circumstances with both of them. They’ll be the end of any slavemaking by me, I swear.

Even if Lilith is fucking gorgeous, goddamn.

“No,” I say. “Sophia, come here.”

Sophia attends me immediately. I grab her and push her down on the bed.

“You think I’m going to say your name? That I’m going to beg you?”

Estelle can hear the anger in my voice. The defiance. “Oh fuck.”

I can smell Estelle’s lust double-down. I spread Sophia’s legs wide—she’s very flexible—until they’re at a complete split. Her face is upside down to the image of Lilith in my room.

“How do you like this?”

I enter Sophia’s slick, hot cunt. She’s so fucking tight for me.

She’s a virgin, I realize. A fresh acquisition for Lilith. She’s maybe licked her or been licked by her—but nothing intense enough to break her cherry like I’m doing now.

And of course—if she’s the lesbian slave of a lesbian mistress...she’s definitely not on birth control. Even if she was for other reasons? The way my cum transformed her body and mine means birth control means about as much to me now as a fly in a hurricane.

Sophia’s vaginal walls clench down on my Cock like they were made for it. In reality, of course, they were re-made for it, built in reception to my image.

“How do you like me fucking your slave? How the fuck do you like that?”

Sophia moans my name, calls me Master. She’s cumming nonstop. Estelle slides up against my body, almost riding me, pushing me into Sophia. Filling my ear with filthy shit.

“Teach her a lesson. Make her pay. Make her know. Give her a preview. Show what the fuck she’s going to get whether she likes it or not.”

Hot, insane, filthy shit. Estelle is such a vixen.

Lilith sputters for a few moments, clearly considering telling me to stop. But she knows now that she can’t stop me.

“I’ll find out where you are,” she says. “And who you are. And I’ll make you pay.”

“Do whatever you like.” I cling Sophia’s heavy tits to my chest. “I’ll still have fucked the shit out of this premium blond pussy.”

She sneers. “You’re a pig.”

The lust is overtaking me. Delusion of grandeur hitting hard. I can’t stop what I’m saying, what I’m feeling. Fucking this blond beauty with Estelle urging and cooing me on, mocking the Amazonian goddess with the rude look on her face. I feel possessed by some otherworldly force.

“I’m going to find you,” I announce. “I’m going to take you.”

“Yes!” Estelle moans.

“You can’t do a thing to stop me.”

Estelle is beside herself. “She can’t!”

“I’m going to break apart your whole. Fucking. World. You got that bitch?”

“Yes!” I can feel Estelle’s trembling, cumming cunt vibrate against my hip. She’s wet enough to lubricate a luge. “You fucking bitch! Have you got that? You want to fuck with my Man? Fuck you!”

Without another word, Lilith waves a hand and disappears.

I’m the one beside myself now. Talking that hot shit has my blood up and Sophia’s premium pussy is too perfect to deny—I need to get this gorgeous babe as fucking pregnant as possible.

“Fucking bitch,” says Estelle. “Fuck her. Fuck her.”

I don’t know if she means Lilith or Sophia. Doesn’t matter. I’ll fuck them both.

I continue to fuck Sophia, thrusting in and out. I look down at her for the first time since we’ve started and see the absolute bliss coating her face. Her eyes are blank, her mouth coated with hot drool. Her tight walls clench and pulse in a constant state of orgasm from my huge Cock pushing on her delectably present g-spot.

“Cum, Daddy,” Estelle moans. “Cum in her. Please? Please cum in her, Master. Oh fucking cum in her, please, please cum...please cum...please cum...”

I have to oblige her. My balls lift and empty, filling Sophia with virile seed. There’s so much of it that it overflows her tight entrance and leaks all over my sheets. Estelle leans over and starts to lap up the excess.

What a good girl. What a dream girl.

After several moments, I pull out of Sophia and look around. My Cock is finally softening somewhat after three big loads in a row.

My sanity returns to me. I just talked shit to someone who can fucking astral project into my room from probably miles away? What the fuck was I thinking? I need to resolve this situation peacefully. I need to work it out somehow.

Why do I have these powers? Why does Estelle? What was it about her and me getting together that activated this whole mess?

“Estelle,” I say. She knows more than anyone else about this I know. “Estelle, we have to talk.”

But Estelle has disappeared.