The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Hosieria Spa and Resort

Chapter One—Infiltration

A helicopter peels away from the coastline, leaving a solitary figure splashing in the water below moving quickly towards the beach. Under cover of darkness, the lone figure makes its way ashore, silhouetted against the backdrop of the moonlight that pokes playfully through the clouds, glistening off the deep blue sea. As the shadow races across the sand in a desperate dash towards the shelter of the nearby tree line, the dark wetsuit that protected it during the drop from the sky above is peeled away and tucked safely away in a gym bag before the bag is flung deep into the dense underbrush that surrounds the path down which they flee. After a quick look around, the shadow itself vanishes into the underbrush as the beach again grows still in the moonlit night.

Charlene wanders through the lobby of the hotel, heading towards the front desk. Clad in the “official uniform” for female resort employees (white silk mini-skirt, tan hose, and nude shaded fabric slippers), Charlene arrives within seconds of her scheduled appointment. “Nice to see you again Mrs. Brooks,” Charlene greets a rather well dressed, middle-aged woman interrupting her conversation with the clerk behind the counter. “It’s nice to see you again too Charlene,” replies Emily Brooks, the powerful head of a large investment bank. “I’m so glad you were available once again this weekend. I hope my last minute reservation did not cause any problems.” “No problem at all,” replies Charlene, quickly adding, “if you would like, we could start right away. I have two new candidates waiting upstairs as you requested.” “That would be wonderful, I really need this weekend away,” oozes Emily turning back towards the clerk who was just finishing running her AMEX card through, processing her reservation. The clerk, as if right on cue, smiles assuring her that her bags would be delivered to her room “later.” Emily smiles as Charlene takes her by the hand and leads her towards the elevator. “It is so nice to get away like this,” Emily thinks to herself as she feels the comfort of Charlene’s hand within hers.

“Room 210, I trust this room shall meet your every expectation once again,” says Charlene slipping the key into the door, briefly awaiting the green light to illuminate before pressing forward and leading Emily inside. “I’m sure it will,” replies Emily, following Charlene into the room, the door slamming tightly behind them. “Good morning Mrs. Brooks,” two voices fill the room in unison as Emily looks towards the window and the two unfamiliar voices where a rather attractive couple, Ann and Ron stand facing her. “It’s so nice to see you this morning,” they add. “Mrs. Brooks is eager to begin,” Charlene interrupts the pleasantries, looking towards Emily who now seems as if she were daydreaming looking Ann and Ron over, Ann dressed identically to Charlene and Ron in white silk pants and a shiny white spandex tank top (the “official uniform” for male employees of the resort). “Oh, yes, yes I would,” replies Emily, startled from her fixation on the young couple a bit embarrassed by her lack of paying attention to the conversation. “Perhaps I’ll go change.” “Very well Mrs. Brooks,” smiles Charlene. “The dressing area is stocked with your usual favorites,” she adds as Emily vanishes around the corner. Charlene approaches Ann and Ron, adjusting a wrinkle in Ann’s skirt as the couple remains silent and motionless, gazing blankly ahead.

A few moments later, Emily returns to the bedroom clad in a shiny pair of black seamless pantyhose and black silk robe. The sheerness of the robe hides little of the woman’s stunning body, the equal of Charlene and Ann’s despite her being 15 years their senior. Emily again seems lost in a daydream as she looks across the room to Ann and Ron, still positioned right where she left them moments before, but now each of them clad only in suntan pantyhose, their other attire folded neatly on the nearby dresser. With a slight hint of shyness, Emily seats herself on the edge on the bed as Charlene’s familiar form drifts nearer from the back of the room, also clad in nothing but the same suntan pantyhose as Ann and Ron. “I have always adored this girls body,” Emily thinks to herself as she watches Charlene prostrate herself on the floor below her, gesturing to Ann to join her. As Charlene and Ann take hold of Emily’s hose covered feet in their hands, gently stroking and caressing the hose covered flesh, Emily drifts backwards onto the bed, her slumping body helped gently to the mattress by Ron who climbs over the woman kneeling between her legs. As Emily feels the now familiar lips of Charlene against her feet and toes, joined now by her latest partner Ann, she also feels Ron between her legs, his rock hard cock poking through a tiny slit in his hose. Ron glides his cock against Emily’s wetness, outlined so conveniently by a long slit in the crotch of her otherwise flawless hose, and deep inside Emily at the same instant her toes vanish into Charlene and Ann’s warm and moist mouths. Emily’s eyes snap wide open, stunned by the intensity of the sudden pleasure, her hands peeling aside her robe and landing atop her breasts, the sound of her ecstasy filling the air. Charlene looks across at her “partner” on the floor by her and feels a sudden sense of familiarity despite her never having knowingly met Ann before. Suddenly it dawns upon her where they had met, and a deep sense of dread quickly overcomes the young woman. Though Charlene never lets up for a second from her assigned task, she continues to glance over at Ann, who also continues mindlessly with her duties. The occasional blank stare and vacant look which emanates from Ann’s eyes returning Charlene’s questioning gaze only provides partial assurance to Charlene that her secret was safe.

Emily awakes later that evening, completely drained from her experience earlier in the day, her feet still tingling and wet almost as if Charlene and Ann were still with her. She bites her lip and smiles as she recalls the entire experience, never before imagining how incredible it could feel, even more so than her many prior visits. Though her experience with women was nothing new, all her previous visits always involved only one, and Charlene had come to be her favorite, but now she is not sure if she could ever go back to just one once ever again. But she does know that she is certainly not ready to give up men quite yet, not after how Ron made her feel as her female companions worked over her feet and toes. She giggles to herself as she heads towards the dressing area, thinking playfully, “how could he stay so hard for so long?” On her way past the door she notices an envelope on the floor and bends down to retrieve it. Opening it, she finds a small hand-written note inside, simply stated, “Because you are a valued and returning guest, we would like to extend to you a personal invitation to our famed relaxation session at the hotel spa. A special appointment with Serena, the spa’s resident relaxation expert and co-owner of the resort, has been reserved just for you at 9:00 AM tomorrow. Please call if you cannot make it.” “How nice,” Emily thinks to herself, “I think I could really use a little rest and relaxation after this afternoon.” Emily smiles as she sets the note aside and her thoughts drift back to her experience from earlier in the day as she heads for the bathroom. A quick shower and the executive is off to bed for a night of pleasant dreams of how she is going to spend the rest of her weekend at the resort.

Charlene closes the door behind her as she glides out into the hallway, two young girls preceding her. “Thank you Mr. Mitchell. It was nice to serve you again sir,” she adds the door clicking shut behind her. Charlene straightens out her dress, wiping away the last residue of sticky white film from her mouth as she walks down the hall with the other girls towards the elevator. As they approached the elevator, one of the doors open and a young man, around 30, exits turning towards the girls. Seeing the man approaching, the girls stopped in their tracks, lined up shoulder-to-shoulder, their arms limp at their sides, their gaze fixed as the man approaches. “Good evening Master” the three girls drone in unison as the man draws nearer to them. “Good evening girls,” the young man replies. “I trust we are all having a fine evening.” “Yes Master. Thank you Master,” the three reply again in unison as the man continues past them, the girls continuing further down the hall only once he has turned the corner behind them out of their view. Climbing in the elevator, the girls press the button for level 3, the residential level. For them, the day is over.

Charlene slams the door to her room shut behind her, leaning heavily against it exhausted, panting. The sights, the sounds, everything she has experienced today...“so erotic, so fucking hot,” she moans to herself as she tries to catch her breath. “What the hell were you thinking letting the bureau assign you to this case you idiot,” she chastises herself. “Why did you not tell them about you fetishes? They would have never let you take the case, it’s too much of a risk to your cover!” she dwells silently on the situation, her facial expression showing her turmoil. She composes herself enough to make her way over to her bed, reaching behind the headboard and retrieving a small laptop computer. Extending a small antenna towards the window, she makes the following entry: Mission proceeding as planned. Intelligence gathering continues, should have enough to warrant additional action within a few more days. Methods of control employed by the slavers appear to be very strong, and Mark and Serena Mathers remain the sole suspects at this time. Financial documents indicate over $1 million in revenue achieved over the last 30 days alone, most falling into the “other services” category. The clientele listing obtained also contains names several of the persons reported missing over the past 60-90 days. Also, discovered the fate of Intelligence Agent Ann Burton. Agent Burton is alive, however she has been neutralized by the resort operation. I fear she may not be recoverable.

Charlene quickly slams shut the laptop, returning it to its spot behind her headboard, and reaches over to turn out the lights, lying back on the bed totally and completely drained from the emotion of the day. All the while, the thoughts of the day continue to flow through her mind: the morning foursome with Emily, the three-girl suck with Mr. Mitchell, the sight of all the other staff members clad so wonderfully in hose prancing about, performing their assigned tasks “like good little servants.” “I don’t know how much longer I can possibly take this,” Charlene thinks to herself, her feet beginning to glide together and up and down her hose covered legs. “Dammit,” Charlene exclaims, jumping from the bed, literally burning up from the eroticism of the thoughts flowing through her mind, peeling away her dress, returning to the covers clad only in her tan hose and only after adjusting the air conditioning downward a bit. “There, that’s better,” she says out loud to herself,” but no adjustment to the room or her clothing can cool down the thoughts racing through her head, the same thoughts that have been literally consuming her since she was a child now constantly magnified by the sights and sounds of her daily routine on the island. “No girl, you can’t, you can’t do this to yourself,” she whispers to herself as she again begins gliding her hose covered feet together, her hands gliding down her body to the wetness between her legs. “Keep it together girl...be strong...”