The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It all began one hot Wednesday in July. The curtains were shut tightly against the merciless heat, and the air conditioners rattled and hummed, keeping the house cool even in an Albuquerque summer. The house was so new I could still smell paint, and our furniture, also new, gave the feeling of a hotel instead of a home.

We had moved in barely a week ago. Martin, my husband, had received a promotion at work, and with that promotion had come a very large raise. Within weeks, our lives had changed completely: Goodbye to the small, dingy apartment and old car with its oil leaks, and hello to a new house, nearly a mansion, and a Chevrolet 300 for him, a Nomad for me. I had protested against buying such a large house: We had no children, no immediate plans for any, and what could we do with all those bedrooms? But Martin had insisted, in his gentle way, that we had put up with third-best for long enough, and it did not take me long to relent.

Martin wasn’t home, of course. He left for work early, and stayed late. I didn’t know what he did: something very secret, something for the government. I had met some of his coworkers at a golfing party. They all seemed very intelligent and pleasant. I was a terrible golfer. So was Martin. No one seemed to mind.

I had started the day with the best of intentions. I was going to rearrange the furniture, put away some of our books, do the grocery shopping. But when the doorbell rang, loud and shrill, I was still in my house-dress, reading at the kitchen table. I had no idea who it could have been, at noon on a workday. I smoothed my dress and walked to the door.

The midday sun flooded in like a flashbulb, blinding me. When I could see again, I saw Derek Cole, one of Martin’s coworkers, his dark hair and suit blocking some of the glare.

“Hello, Carolyn,” he said, as if paying a visit to a colleague’s wife during the middle of the working day was the most natural thing in the world. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

“No... of course not. Mar... my husband isn’t home, of course,” I said, something in his intense gray eyes making me say “my husband” instead of “Martin.” Suddenly, I had a horrible thought. “Nothing... nothing has happened, has it?” I was suddenly dizzy. A laboratory accident? Or even something worse? If they did government work, and if there were a sneak attack... My knees felt weak.

He caught my elbow as I swayed. He looked concerned. “Oh, no! Nothing at all! Everything is fine.” he said. “I’m terribly sorry to have frightened you.” I stepped back in as I regained my footing, and he stepped in with me, closing the door with his other hand.

I realized, with a start, that I was alone in a house with a man I barely knew, and my husband was miles away. He was watching at my intently, his look solicitous... but not just that. “Um, Mr Cole, how can I help you?” I said, my voice not as strong as I wished it to be.

He blinked, as if he had suddenly remembered the reason for his visit. “Please call me Derek,” he said, and I resolved at once not to do so. He reached into the pocket of his suit jacket, and took out a small silver disk; it looked for all the world like a compact. “I have something I need to show you.” My mind ran wild again. A makeup case? It wasn’t mine, certainly. Maybe it belongs to another woman. Why would he be here telling me my husband was having an affair? And Martin having an affair? That was absurd! We had barely been married a year, and he was the kindest man I had ever known. He would never do such a thing.

He had opened the disk, and was holding it up. I snapped out of my reverie. Inside, the disk had some sort of strange spiral pattern. With a soft whir, the spiral was turning. He held it up, right between us, blocking my view of him. “Just look right into the center of this.”

I looked... and, at once, the strangest feeling came over me. I felt light-headed. The spiral seemed to fill my vision.

“What... what is it?” I said, stammering. I was having trouble thinking clearly.

“Please don’t worry about that. Just keep looking,” he said, and I did just keep looking. I felt as though my mind was fogging over, even as my posture became very erect.

“I... I shouldn’t... what is happening to me?” I managed to say, softly. He didn’t reply. In a few moments, I realized that I couldn’t think at all. It was as if I, or some part of me, was drifting over the scene, looking at it impassively, while my body was asleep standing in the room below.

He put away the disk. I was staring into into space, and didn’t react at all. He was examining me, in a way that I would have found immeasurably insulting if I had been... present.

“Let’s go into the living room, Carolyn,” he said.

I just nodded, and turned on my heel to lead him. I couldn’t think of a reason in the world that I should not just do what he said.

He sat down on the couch, and continued to examine me. I stood in front of him, staring at the wall.

“Take off your dress,” he said, after a few moments.

The part of my mind that was observing the situation was... no, not shocked. Surprised. But I complied, reaching behind me to unzip the light blue house-dress. I let it drop on the floor. In a moment, I was standing in front of a stranger wearing just my underwear and heels. Until that moment, Martin had been the only man who had seen me in lingerie. Derek stared at me; I could feel his eyes descend from my face to my breasts to my... legs.

“Undress. Completely.”

I reached behind me, undoing the first of the four hooks on my bra.

I was lying on the bed in the guest bedroom upstairs, on my back, my legs spread wide. Derek was vigorously licking me between my legs. He was naked, too. My hips slowly ground back. Derek was very good with his mouth; I had just had my fifth orgasm.

Then, he stopped, and slid up next to me. He took the disk, sitting on the bed-side table, and held it in front of my eyes. I could feel it filling my vision again, opening my mind as wide as my legs were. With his other hand, he reached down to fondle me between my legs, already wet. Between the pleasure from his touch and the effect of the device, even the observant part of my mind faded away into docile, compliant mist. He was saying things to me, incredible things, and scandalous things... wonderful things.

As I dropped even farther into the hypnotic trance, I thought for a moment that I had expected him to take me, and I was disappointed that he would not. At least, not today. Then, all I could hear was his voice, whispering commands and instructions into my ear, and my murmured, hypnotized replies.

“I will obey you.”

“I cannot resist.”

“I have no will.”

“My mind and body are yours.”

“I will submit.”

“I am your obedient slave.”

“You are my Master.”

“Yes, Master. Anything you wish, Master.”

I woke up curled under the covers. My clothes were neatly draped over the chair next to the bed. I was alone, of course. I couldn’t remember anything, except that I must have gotten sleepy, and had come up to this bedroom... Of course, it all made sense. I had gotten sleepy, I had come up here for a nap so I didn’t mess the covers in the master bedroom. I had slept in the nude, which of course I never did, but I must have been too sleepy to find proper nightclothes.

I sat up, blushing, when I remembered the intensely erotic dream from my nap. I was still wet from it. But the embarrassment passed in mere moments, and I climbed out of bed, every inch of my body fresh and alive. I quickly stripped the bed and put on clean sheets, enjoying the sway of my breasts as moved. I dressed, and closed the door tightly behind me as I left, carrying the dirty sheets downstairs.

I surprised Martin that night. Sex between us had always been very gentle, romantic, tender... just like Martin himself. But I wanted more that evening. I reached down to pull him harder into me, I pushed back, I held on tightly. I even rolled him over and mounted him from above, and I could see he wasn’t expecting that. I closed my eyes, my hips rising and falling... pounding into him. When I opened them, I could see that he was confused, but very happy, his hands reaching up to hold my breasts as I brought myself to another climax. I didn’t tell him what I was thinking of, on top of him, while my eyes were closed.

I was as nervous as water for the next week, although I had no idea why. I was very aroused, too. Martin was startled, although very happily startled, when not a single night went by without sex. I made sure of it, and he’d always been the one to start it before. Even with that, sometimes I sneaked off to the guest bedroom, the one I kept shut tight, and... well, I touched myself. For an hour, or two, maybe even three. What’s happening to me? I thought, more than once, but almost immediately the thought came back, as if whispered in my ear: There’s nothing wrong. You’re a young, beautiful married woman. Sex is natural and right. You should enjoy it as much as you can.

And with that ringing in my head, I slid my fingers back between my legs, in the cool and dark of the guest bedroom.

The next Wednesday, I had decided to go out in the afternoon. I had dressed up: a dark blue dress to match my eyes, a pale yellow scarf to match my hair, and two layers of petticoats to define a beautiful silhouette. Even though I didn’t really need a girdle, I had splurged on a new strapless Marquis one-piece. I was admiring myself in the hall mirror, blushing a bit at my own vanity, when the doorbell rang.

It was Derek, of course. I had no memory at all of his last visit, but this time, I was pleased to see him, even as I thought it was strange that he should be at the house, now, in the middle of the day, with my husband still at work.

“Hello, Derek,” I said, a bit of schoolgirl gush in my voice. “This is an unexpected pleasure. I’m sorry that Martin isn’t home.” I stepped aside to let him in.

“Hello, Carolyn,” he said, pecking my offered cheek. “Martin’s at work, of course, slaving away. I keep telling him he should have more fun. ‘Take a lunch break, you drone!’” We both laughed.

Then, he said something to me as he closed the door behind him. I didn’t understand what he said, but the effect was immediate. I felt myself drifting, floating, falling... and, again, I was watching from the ceiling as I drew up straight, my eyes open and staring, unblinking, my back rigid. He looked at me for a long moment.

“You look very lovely today,” he said.

“Thank you, Master,” I replied in a sleepy monotone, deeply pleased that I had pleased him.

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” I replied, turning sharply to lead him upstairs.

When I had opened the door and let him in, the part of me observing expected him to have me undress. But he didn’t. He sat on the bed, and watched me for a long moment, as I stared off into space. The hum of the air conditioner was the only noise.

“Kneel down here in front of me,” he said at last.

“Yes, Master,” I said as I sank down, staring blankly at his chest.

Then, he told me I was going to do something for him, something I had never done before.

Despite what people might think, proper women do know about things like that. We just don’t admit it, whether or not we do it with our boyfriends, husbands... or lovers. I had never taken Martin in my mouth, but I wouldn’t have said no if he had asked. At least, I don’t think I would have. Now, of course, it’s hard to say.

This time, of course, I didn’t say no. I listened carefully to his instructions, and said, “Yes, Master. Whatever you wish, Master.” I leaned forward to slowly run my tongue over the underside of his quickly-hardening shaft. The tip of my tongue ran down to his balls, sliding, caressing, worshipping, and then back up... and with a sudden plunge, he was between my lips and in my mouth, and out, and in, and I was fucking him with my mouth, and it tasted wonderful, it was all I could think of, and I sucked and sucked and felt him gasp and thrust back with each descent of my mouth. I kept my lips over my teeth, just as he’d told me, and I kept at it, his cock in my mouth my entire world, pausing only to lick at his balls or around the head. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours, but I sucked at him until I could feel him building, building...

And he came in my mouth, in a torrent of come. I hadn’t known what a man tasted like, but it was wonderful: musky and salty. I caught every drop, gently milking him into my hungry mouth. Then, I sat back, my lips parted, staring blankly at him. I still throbbed with the orgasm I had shared with him. I said the only think I could think of.

“Thank you, Master.”

I looked around, suddenly dizzy. Derek was standing at the door. I steadied myself. He was reaching for the door knob.

“Thank you for a lovely visit,” he said.

Oh, yes, of course. We had a lovely visit right in the living room. Now I remembered. At least, I remembered remembering.

“My pleasure,” I said, aching to run upstairs, to my dark, private room. “I’m sorry to run off.”

“Can I drive you anywhere?” he asked.

“I... well, I’m just going downtown. Do you have plans for lunch?” I blurted out, not believing what I was saying. “I’m ravenous.”

“Please, allow me to assuage your hunger,” he said, hooking his arm in mine. I joined him, and laughing, we walked out to his car.

“I heard you had lunch with Derek,” Martin said over dinner that night.

I froze. I felt punched in the stomach. I knew it had been a bad idea to have lunch with him, so publicly, laughing and chatting. Nearly flirting. No, flirting brazenly. What had Martin been told? What was he thinking?

“He... he came by unexpectedly,” I managed. I could see myself in a mirror; I was as white as a sheet.

Martin looked up. “Did you have a good time?” Not a trace of reproach in his voice.

I slowly relaxed. “Yes, it was fun. You don’t mind?”

He laughed. “Mind? Why? If Derek wants to take a long lunch, that’s between him and his boss.” He stood, and came to put his arms around my shoulders from behind. “Were you really worried that I’d mind? It’s 1956, Carol love. I don’t expect you be a hermit out here.”

I leaned back into him. His hands slid lower, and I arched my back, suddenly aflame from his touch on my breasts. “You certainly aren’t a nun,” he whispered in my ear.

I stood, slowly, so that his hands stayed where they were. “Let’s leave the dishes,” I said, grinding back into him once the chair was no longer between us. “I’ll get them tomorrow.” I turned, and kissed him, hard. One of his hands slid down, over my rear, and around to the front; I lifted my skirt to encourage him. “I have something I’d like to do for you,” I whispered in his ear.

But why did I almost add, “that I’ve just been trained to do”?

The next Wednesday, I didn’t even dress. I wasn’t expecting anyone (was I?), and it was so lovely to just relax in my robe, reading. The house was open, brilliant sunlight pouring in. I was feeling aroused, sensual. I thought about going upstairs to my private room and touching myself, but something kept me reading in the living room.

When the doorbell rang, I sprang up and raced to the door, my heels clicking on the flagstone hall. Without a second thought, I flung open the door, and there was Derek.

I was horrified. I had just opened the door wearing nothing but a silk dressing gown and heels for a man who wasn’t my husband, in the middle of the day. I could feel my breasts swaying heavy and sensitive below the fabric, my hot, treacherous pussy wet and ready, as I reached up to cover myself with my arms, and...

And then he said something to me.

I straightened up, and drifted away, as I heard my voice say, “How may I please you, Master?” As he closed the door, I undid the robe and let it drop. In my distant, observant mind, I could feel that my thighs were wet.

Derek finally took me that day. He had me lie down, legs spread wide, as he played with my pussy. He didn’t really need to; I was already wet and ready for him, but he seemed to enjoy it, too. Then, he stood, and carefully undressed, as I stroked myself between my legs, staring blankly at the ceiling, mindless and obedient in the hypnotic trance. He slid onto the bed, and kissed me, and I returned the kiss, my mouth open and wet and our tongues dancing around each other, my distant mind wondering if he was going to use my mouth in some other way today.

And then, he was on me, and then in me, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his body and fucked him for all I was worth. He drove in, hard, as my body came and came again. He turned me over and took me from behind as I held onto the headboard, my breasts pressed into the sheets. He had me mount him and ride him as he played with my breasts. And then he had me on my back again, my legs in the air, as he drove into me, bringing me to one climax after another until they blended together, whispering into my ear, my mind open and receptive from the hypnosis, and from the pleasure he was bringing me.

“Yes, Master.”

“I will do anything you wish.”

“I will obey you.”

“I am your sex-slave.”

“Use my body as you will.”

“Please, fuck me, Master.”

And then he came in me, again and again, as I shuddered with another climax as I received him. And, then,

“Thank you, Master.”

Derek visited every Wednesday, although no two visits were quite the same. Sometimes I dressed up for him, to the edge of sluttishness, and perhaps, sometimes, a bit beyond. Sometimes I answered the door wearing just my robe. Sometimes, I pleasured him orally before he released me from my trance, only my rubbed-off lipstick a sign that I had just whorishly sucked him off. Other times, we fucked for an hour or two, and he left me asleep in the bed, to wake up with only the memory of an intensely erotic dream. But, always, when I awoke, I had no memory of having docilely, obediently, and enthusiastically served him as his hypnotic sex-slave. Sometimes, we had lunch together, no clue in my mind that just a little while before, I had been on my back, legs in the air, crying out “Yes, Master! Thank you, Master!” as he fucked me, and as I came again. And again.

Martin appeared to suspect nothing, and had no complaints, especially not in bed. Whatever Derek was doing to me, however he was reshaping my entranced, receptive mind as he used my enslaved body, it was turning me into a nymphomaniac for my husband as well as for my hypnotic Master. Martin could not believe my stamina, and if I had realized that I was often having hours of passionate sex with two different men in the same day, I would not have believed my stamina, either. And every day, whether a Wednesday or not, I found time to retreat to my private cave and pleasure myself, as well.

August became September. One Wednesday, I was dressed up, waiting for another “lunch” date with Derek. The doorbell rang, and I sprang to open it.

Only, it wasn’t Derek. It was Betty, a girl from down the street. She was going back for her Junior year of college next week, and I had offered to give her some of my old clothes, since she and I were about the same size.

“Hello, Mrs Craig,” she said, her eyes flickering over my alarmingly red outfit. “I’m sorry... were you on your way out?”

“Oh, hello, Betty,” I said, trying to be composed. “No, please come in! Everything’s upstairs.”

As she walked upstairs, I found myself looking at her shapely rear in her slightly too-tight skirt, swaying back and forth, back and forth... In the master bedroom, we made idle chit-chat while she looked through the boxes. Soon, she had her finds spread out on the bed.

“Do you mind if I try them on, Mrs Craig?” she asked.

I looked away from her filled-out sweater. “Oh, no... go right ahead!” I said, suddenly quite eager than she should do so.

She pulled off her sweater. Her large breasts filled her bra as she reached down for the first blouse. I tried not to stare, but I felt myself growing warm watching her move. Articles of clothing came and went, and I started thinking how luscious she looked, how smooth her skin must be, and what a beautiful, cherry-red little mouth she had... how exquisite that tongue must be... I looked down at her modest white panties, and wondered what she tasted like.

She had found one of my old one-piece foundations, and was undoing her bra to try it on. I watched her breasts swing free, and felt my pussy throb. I stood up, a bit too abruptly. “Um, excuse me, Betty,” I said. “I’ll be right back.” She looked at me curiously as I fled.

I raced down the hall to my private room, and threw myself inside. I locked the door, and in a flash I was on the bed, legs spread wide, fingers thrust down my panties. I closed my eyes, thinking of Betty on her hands and knees, Martin (of course, it was Martin, wasn’t it?) plunging into her from behind, those amazing breasts swaying as I guided her head down between my legs, that beautiful mouth opening and licking... licking...

It took three climaxes, my face buried into a pillow to keep me from making too much noise, before I felt composed enough to face her again. When I returned, she had carefully packaged the clothes she was keeping in a shopping bag. I walked her to the door, and she gave me a hug; it was all I could do to keep from stroking her ripe ass. She drove away, and through the kitchen window I could see Derek’s Golden Hawk pull into the driveway. I fixed my lipstick, and again ran to the door.

In late September, we threw a party at our house. It was a shock seeing the house so full of people; it has been a solitary retreat for me for so long. Martin looked smashing in his new tuxedo, and I had bought a new black strapless evening gown for the occasion. It was far more daring in front than I would have ever worn before, but the appreciative look in Martin’s eyes as I emerged from the bedroom made it worthwhile.

I had just come from the kitchen when I saw Martin talking with a redheaded woman I didn’t recognize. He saw me and gestured me over.

“Carolyn, this is Suzanne Gray. She works at the laboratory.”

Suzanne smiled. Her large green eyes shone out of a pixie face. She was pale with freckles, her freckles descending down to her cleavage. “Actually, I’m Martin’s secretary,” she said, offering me her hand. It was cool and smooth.

“I didn’t even know he had a secretary!” I said, looking at Martin with mock-indignation. “All this time, and I didn’t realize there was another woman!” The minute it left my mouth, I realized how horrible the joke was, but both Martin and Suzanne laughed.

“All Martin does is talk about his wonderful wife,” Suzanne said. “He’s quite the bore.” She smiled at me. “But he’s right, his wife is positively stunning.” Her eyes scanned me up and down, but it wasn’t the look a woman gives a rival, or even a friend whose outfit she’s admiring. It was the look that men sometimes give me in the street, especially if I am dressed for... well, for lunch with Derek.

And with a start, I realized that I was giving her the same look.

“Th—thank you,” I said. “Would you excuse me?” I retreated to a corner of the room, not sure what I was feeling. I wondered if Suzanne was like me, and then thought: What does being “like me” mean?

I saw Derek, and Derek saw me; I hadn’t realized he had arrived. He made his way towards me, and I found myself feeling nervous, almost scared. But of what? Derek’s a good friend. And nervousness wasn’t the only thing that was making my legs weak.

“Hello, Carolyn,” he said, positioning himself next to me.

“Hello, Derek,” I said. “I didn’t see you come in.”

“Just arrived now,” he said, then he leaned down and whispered something into my ear. I could feel my will and mind dissolve into mist. My back straightened, my eyes opened wide and blank. “Come with me,” he said. “Whatever you wish, Master,” I murmured as he took my arm and guided me upstairs.

He took me to my private room, and shepherded me in. He kissed me, and I kissed him back, wet and ready for him. He stretched out on the bed, and told me what he wanted.

“My mouth is yours, Master.”

I knelt down on the bed, slowly sucking on him. After a few minutes, I could hear the door into the room open, but I was his obedient sex- slave, and I did not miss a stroke. I could feel hands slide my panties down and off, and fingers stroke my cunt. I did what I had been programmed to do: I spread my legs, and arched my back, ready to be fucked. And I was: The mystery visitor’s cock slid into me, and I gave a deep moan of pleasure through Derek’s cock in my mouth. I sucked at Derek while I was fucked from behind. I felt used, filled, a complete slut, a complete whore.

I was in heaven.

Derek said, over my head, “Would you like to switch?” I heard Martin’s voice say, “Happy to.” Derek looked down at me, and gave me my orders. I slid up from him as Martin slid out of me, and soon, my husband’s cock was in my mouth while Derek filled my wet cunt from behind.

I heard Martin say, “I think she’s ready.” Derek must have nodded, because Martin reached into his jacket and produced the disk, the same disk Derek had used to turn me into his sex-slave. He held it in front of my eyes. As it filled my vision, Derek leaned down and whispered to me as I fell deeper, deeper, even the part of me that stood apart falling into a compliant, docile trance. And then all I could do was listen, and fuck, and suck.

Listen, and fuck, and suck.

Fuck and suck.

And obey.

Then, I woke up. But not alone, or dressed. My husband was still in my mouth and Derek was still in my cunt, and I was still sucking and fucking and coming again and again. My lips still wrapped around him, I looked up into Martin’s eyes. I know my eyes were pleading, begging, but for what? He just smiled his gentle smile and stroked my hair. I knew then what I was, and what I was supposed to do.

And I came again as I swooped down on his cock, pushed back into Derek, and I had my husband’s cock in my mouth and my lover’s cock in my cunt and I would keep fucking and sucking until my Masters were completely satisfied. Until their whore, their sex-slave, their insatiable fuckdoll, had pleasured them in every way that they wanted.

And until their insatiable fuckdoll had been pleasured every way she wanted, too.