The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Linda saw the ad first on a Monday morning. Her routine was normal. Get out of bed, shower, bemoan the fact that her weekend had been as dull as every weekend before it, and then get dressed and get ready for work.

Linda went to the mirror in front of her expensive and sterile apartment. Looking at herself, she adjusted her clothing. Black business jacket, check. Below the knees, black business skirt, check. Office shoes, black, check.

Blouse… White, check. Tie, check. She’d worn a cream-colored tie that day as a sign that she wasn’t some kind of office legal drone.

“I’m a complete legal drone,” Linda said to herself as she ran a hand through her curly blond hair and confronted her mirror-self’s gaze. Green eyes looked out from behind glasses that the ads said would make you look business-like, but just seemed to do nothing but add about twenty years to Linda’s age, turning her forty before her time. Still, they were expensive, and she wasn’t about to buy another pair. Not with the rent eating up her paycheck.

“Right,” Linda said. “Time to go to work as another wonderful day as a Paralegal for Simms & Wilkins!” She’d been planning on using the money to pay for her legal education, but now…

Going to school for more of this? No way. You could make a living as a paralegal and not lose all your hair before you were twenty-five.

She headed down to the parking garage and got into her second-hand car, not that old, but Linda wasn’t about to get into even more debt to buy a new car that would lose half of its value by the time she drove it off the lot. Blinking once at the bright light of morning, she pulled out onto the road and headed to work.

It didn’t take long to get there. Fortunately, work was in the opposite direction most of the morning rush-hour was heading, and so Linda didn’t have as bad a time as some did. She took a moment to smirk at the other side of the Five, endless lines of cars inching forward.

And it was there that she saw it.

One of those big advertising trucks, stuck in traffic, its LED billboard flashing out ads for timeshares and energy drinks and…

HER PLACE? Linda blinked as she stared at the truck. The LED had flashed, the big words black against the white light. Then they faded out to an outline…

Of a woman… with a broom? Just an outline. But it was a woman, Linda could tell that, and then it flashed again.

HER PLACE.

Then the screen switched to some kind of energy drink.

What the hell? Linda shook her head. What kind of ad was that? Maybe for some kind of maid school?

Did maids even have schools? Linda shook her head. Whatever it was it wasn’t something she had to worry about. No, she had to worry about getting to work on time and not pissing off the bosses.

And with that, she drove down the freeway… but ever so often, Linda looked back the way she’d come.

But the advertising truck had long since vanished into the distance.

Simms & Wilkins had its own building, but not one in the downtown area. Fortunately, because traffic downtown was miserable 24-7. No, it was a nice, six-story building, with a roomy lobby and offices and meeting rooms for all the lawyers and staff. Linda sometimes wondered if they needed that building, but hey, it wasn’t her money, and giving paralegals offices sure beats a cubical farm.

She pulled her car into the parking space and got out, giving herself a quick once over. No need for a lecture about how important it was to present a professional appearance from Kyoko. The threatening heat of a California morning gave way to the cool air of the lobby as the automatic doors opened for her. Alicia was at her desk, the receptionist going through the day’s agenda on her computer.

“Hey, Alicia,” Linda said. “Anything for me? A promotion? Lottery ticket?”

Alicia glanced up at her and rolled her emerald green eyes. She was a college student, putting herself through law school on a secretary’s salary.

Linda had a feeling she looked down on some of the paralegals, but she’d never shown it. But now, the redhead was gesturing at her computer. “Nothing for you, Linda, just typical stuff. A meeting from that idiot wanting to sue the city…”

“Are we supposed to refer to our clients as idiots?” Linda asked.

“When we’re alone, we can,” Alicia said, stretching in the chair, the movement showing off her impressive tits as they pressed against her sweater.

Linda tried not to feel jealous. But Alicia had some really impressive jugs, and combined with her ass and hips, she had no problem getting guys to look at her. In fact, it was odd that Steve wasn’t here. Their resident security guard loved hanging around the receptionist in the hope he’d get a date out of it.

Good luck, Steve. If Alicia had issues with paralegals, it went double for security guards. Linda had heard her comment that she was gonna get married to some up and coming lawyer, someone who would really show the world what for and who would, in addition, be able to keep his wife in excellent surroundings.

Well, it’s a dream. Alicia was probably gonna get a lawyer who spent his time on wrongful-injury cases and had a townhouse in the hills. Not so bad. But—

“Hey, did you see a weird ad on the freeway?” Alicia said.

“What?”

“When I was coming in, there was a truck. Normal ads, but then—“

“Her place?” Linda asked, the words somehow resonating in her mind. She shook her head as the flash of memory showed her a black-and-white outline of a woman working as a maid.

“Yeah!” Alicia said. “I mean, what were they even advertising? Who would want to push a broom?”

“Her place.” Linda shook her head. “I mean, some women might like that job, especially if you’re working for a rich family that can pay you. You know, make it like her place.”

“Yeah, but us? That’s not for me.” Alicia shrugged, her breasts shifting under her shirt. “I mean, it might her place… but it’s… I mean, her place would be cool, but not for me.”

Linda felt an odd shiver at the thought. “Yeah, but I guess that’s the question, remember, ‘Her place?’, so that’s the show. Ask the question, and then they answer and call the place.”

“Well, I didn’t see any phone or email address,” Alicia said. “So I guess they’re not gonna ever answer what ‘her place’ actually is.”

“Yeah…” Linda bit her lip. “Yeah. Well, it’s time for work. Bye!”

“Bye!”

But as Linda walked to the elevator, she couldn’t ignore the words that kept repeating in her head.

“Her place…”

Linda’s office was small. Paralegals didn’t get big offices, but on the other hand, it was still better than what some got. Linda had visited a friend over at one of the big aerospace companies, and she didn’t even have a cubical—not one for herself. No, she had a cubical that she shared with three other workers, including someone who liked playing music.

Bad music.

Linda couldn’t imagine working in such conditions, not without ending up with a dandy excuse to convince a jury that he had it coming and it wasn’t first-degree murder if you pushed someone out of a window—because it wasn’t the fall that killed them, but the sudden stop at the end.

No. Here, at least, she had some privacy and a place to store her stuff, which right now included the Williamson Account. Linda sighed and turned on the computer, coding in her password and looking through her emails.

“Right, office-wide email…” She clicked on it and grinned, reading the all caps note:

REMEMBER. P A S S W O R D IS NOT A VALID PASSWORD FOR YOUR ACCOUNT. FUTURE INFRACTIONS WILL RESULT IN DISCIPLINARY ACTION.

“Whups, Sheila, looks like your days are numbered…” She shook her head. How an airhead like Sheila managed to become a secretary was beyond her. Kyoko was one step from trying to get her fired.

Well, not my problem. Now, let’s see… She called up the information. The Williamson Account wasn’t their biggest, but it was still big, and the research had to be done right. You might not get fired for fucking up your password, but you would get fired for making a lawyer look stupid in front of a court and their client, because you hadn’t done the research right.

But right now… They were deep in a lawsuit regarding a sewage spill, and it looked like pretty normal research. Nothing unusual…

“Let’s see, liability for sewage that crosses the property line…” Linda started scrolling through the information and… “Oh my, neighbor used a handyman with no contractor’s license to do the work on their septic system. That’s gonna cost.” Usually the contractor had insurance that handled this kind of thing… Unless you choose someone who didn’t have a license.

Bet they never even asked why a guy would be doing the work extra cheap. Well, sorry people… She made the notes and CC’d it to the rest of the staff handling it. Linda bet that would get settled pretty quickly. Unless they had a really stupid lawyer, because “I used an unlicensed contractor and flooded a business with sewage” didn’t have much in the way of a defense you could use.

She—

HONK! Linda started at the sound and then glanced out of the window. A truck had made a turn against the light and someone was honking at it.

She looked down at it, and there it was…

A flash. Black and white. A woman’s figure, flaring hips and impressive bustline… Bending over the outline of a stewpot.

Cooking.

And then it flashed again.

HER PLACE?

And then the truck turned the corner and vanished.

Second time? She shook her head. It didn’t have to be the same truck. After all, what moron would just hire one truck in a city. Nobody would ever see the message!

But what are they selling?

Her Place? A house. A place where you could cook and clean and wait for a man to come home… or being a maid, just working in some man’s house, cooking and cleaning and using a little feather duster to keep everything immaculate.

Her Place. Linda stared down at where the truck had been. How many women had seen it? How many had looked at those words.

Her Place? Linda shivered. It was almost like a demand. To think about what your place was. Whether or not you were happy or content…

She looked around at the paperwork in the room, all the cases, and files with little placeholders sticking out of them.

Like this place. But it was…

Linda shook her head. What a ridiculous thought. Who would ever want to be a maid? Not her. That wasn’t her place.

Not at all.

She went back to doing the work, filling in the various notes for the legal team, getting them ready for the case. They wouldn’t thank her, oh no. It’d just be one of a dozen cases, and the only time they’d think of her was if something screwed up.

But this was her place. Linda finished the case, just in time to get some coffee.

Coffee. Yes. That’s what she needed.

She walked out into the hallway, and noticed that Sheila was standing staring out of the window.

Curly brown hair tumbled down her back, the slim Latina biting her lip.

“So, let me guess, it was your password,” Linda said.

“Yeah, Kyoko was screaming at me.”

“Well, you need to think harder about your passwords…” And other stuff.

“Yeah. Did you see the truck?”

“The one that almost got nailed? I did.”

“Did you see the advertising?”

“For what, energy drinks or the time share.”

“You know,” Sheila turned to look at her. “Her place.” She shivered. “It was…”

“Weird?” Linda shook her head. “Yeah. Didn’t even say what it was for. I’m wondering if it’s an actual ad, or some kind of art, you know, like a Banksy, only with LED displays.”

“I… I mean, I was wondering about it.”

“About what?”

“Her Place. You know, like my place.”

“Here?”

“What if it’s not really where I’m supposed to be. What if this place isn’t my place. That’s why the display had a question mark.”

Linda rolled her eyes. “Sheila. It was an ad, not something to base life decisions off of.”

“Right… of course.”

Linda waved and headed off to get her coffee. “Take some time and get your head screwed on straight.”

But as she stopped by the coffee machine in the lounge, Linda looked around.

Is this my place?