The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Slam!!

What the fuck? Karen shakes her head to clear the cobwebs. She finds herself sitting in her car with her engine running. She sees the back of a tall man as he walks quickly away

What happened to me? She checks herself out as best she can. She seems OK.

The last thing she remembers was heading out to go to work. At least that is the last thought she had.

She was a financial consultant for...? Where did she work?

Damn, she better call her husband and tell him ... Fuck I need to clear out my head.

It is then she notices the absence of her purse.

‘That bastard stole my purse!’, she realizes.

The only thing she finds is a business card for “Cumming Maids Services”. It had her name written in for the maids name and a client’s name and address. Attached to the card is a pin on nametag with “KAREN” in large letters and underneath it in smaller print is typed “A CUMMING MAID, ALWAYS AT YOUR SERVICE”.

I am not a maid. I am a financial advisor for... for... Again she draws a blank.

Well I know I am not a maid. What kind of maid wears a suit outfit like this to work?

She looks down to make sure she is wearing her grey suit. If fits nicely to her 5′—8″ frame. The skirt starts at her narrow waist, expanding of her generous derriere, and ends just below her knees. A white blouse with ruffles in the front distract from her large bosom. A well fitted suit coat, matching her skirt, attires her top.

She has little makeup on her face, not that she needs much. She has plush lips that her husband says are made for kissing. Her dark hair brushes her shoulders. This hairstyle is a newer style; she has only recently grown it out.

Her long legs are encased in tan nylons. She has a pair of conservative grey flats on her feet.

I better go home. But where is home?

Again she looks at the card. That’s strange; the business doesn’t list an address. Looking at the client’s name she mutters, “Well, maybe this ‘François” will know what has happened.”

Putting her car into drive she head to the address on the card.

Somehow I knows just where this house is despite never having been there before. Pulling down a long driveway she comes upon this large Victorian house. At least the owner has good taste, I think as I look at the house and the surrounding manicured lawn.

Approaching the front door, I knock. An elderly man in his late eighties or early nineties opens the door.

“Your late,” her growl, leaving the door open for her to come through.

“Late?” I ask.

“You were supposed to be here a half-hour ago,” he points at the large clock on the wall. It reads eight-thirty.

“I am sorry but you....” I begin to explain before he interrupts me.

“Your uniform is in the coat closet. Change in the bathroom and then come right back here. I am going to need to have you clean the living room and the dinning room.” He storms off.

“Yes sir,” I find myself automatically obeying him. Well I’ll just explain when I come back.

I find myself in a large coat closet. Two maid uniforms hang there. Neither or them have much substance to them. I grab the more conservative uniform and head to the bathroom.

Closing the bathroom door, I find myself surrounded by a hundred of me. There are mirrors on every wall. Even the shower stall is made of mirrors.

I strip out of my suit and toss it into the laundry shoot. Fuck, ‘What was I thinking about?’ I wonder as it disappears. I will have to get that back later.

Standing in my underwear, I look more closely at the outfit. It comes with its own undergarments. No wonder, in this abbreviated suit my undergarments would not work.

I should walk right out of here and tell that man where to shove this uniform. It is small enough to fit, I thought with a small grin.

March right out there in what? Not much I can do now that I have thrown my suit down the laundry shoot.

With the new undergarments I find a safety razor. What the hell is that for?

Taking off my bra and panties, I toss these after my suit. Their not much use by themselves. I pick up the black panties; I mean the black thong panties. Shit, they are even semi-transparent. Putting them on, I find my pubic hair hangs out the sides of them.

Now I understand the razor. Do they really expect me to shave myself down there? I would have to shave all but a very small patch off.

Taking them off, I go over to the shower. Using some of the body soap, I lather up my crotch. Here I go.

I find the mirrors in the shower quite lude. Nothing like seeing several of you shave your vagina. Still, it is a little erotic. I feel my arousal level going up.

Drying off, I find the feeling of the air on my almost bare thatch between my legs extremely enjoyable.

Slipping on the thong panties, the thin material becomes even more transparent as it stretches across my vagina. I can clearly see the its now bulging outline. As I move around, I find the panties riding up my ass and working their way into my crotch. The friction, which should be annoying, is only annoying in that it seems to heighten my pleasure. How am I going to make it through the day like this?

I grab the black corset. The tag reads my size but surely there is something wrong. My breasts are pushed upward and the corset ends before it covers my nipples. I try several times to pull it up but it won’t come up far enough.

The garter straps hang from it by my thighs. I have never worn stockings with garters. At least I don’t think so. I pull up the black stocking and attach them to the straps.

Catching my reflection in the mirrors, I see a woman dressed like a whore staring back at me.

I quickly grab the black skirt with white lacy trim. Putting it on, I find to my dismay that it barely covers the top of my stocking. Just walking will reveal some of my bare thigh to anyone near me. Any bounce or bend at the waste will give someone an eyeful.

I grab the top. This is a matching black top with white trim. It fits like a glove. The front is has a very low neck. It just barely covers my nipples. Actually on close expectation, you can see a little of my areole clearing the top. I pull it up as best I can though the slightest movement sends it back down, flicking my sensitive nipples on the way. Reaching my hands above my head, I find my midriff being exposed. I was going to have to move cautiously in this outfit.

A pair of high-heeled sandals dangles from the hangar. Well I can’t wear my gray pumps with this. I am not sure I will be able to walk in them but they are the least of my concern.

Finally I don on the white maids cap and pin on my gold nametag.

A maid stares back at me from the mirrors, not your wholesome maid. I adjust my clothing as best I can to hide my assets. Taking a deep breath, I head out to ‘François’.

He is waiting for me in the living room tapping his foot. A bucket of cleaning supplies is at his feet as well as a stepladder.

“About time,” he says as he see me coming. “Now spin around and let me see.”

Spin around like hell, I think to myself even as my body obeys him. What has gotten into me?

“Yesterday you did a good job cleaning the more accessible areas,” he starts.

Yesterday? I have never been here, have I?

“Today we are going to get the high and low parts. Starting with the furniture, I need you to dust the lower shelf, under the tables, and the legs of the chairs.”

There were a lot of areas to get.

“When you are done, we will work on the upper reaches.”

I look up at the twelve-foot ceilings with trepidation.

Even as I want to argue with him, I find myself reaching for the cleaning bucket. François pulls out a chair to sit on as he watches me. I am going to have to be real careful or I would let him see more than I wanted him to see.

Grabbing the bucket of cleaning supplies, I head over to the coffee table against the far wall. It has a lower shelf about 6 inches from the ground.

As I started to squat to reach the lower shelf I hear a “Tsch, Tsch,” from behind me. “It is not proper eddicate for a maid to bend your knees while standing.”

Not proper edditicate? I stand up as I ponder this. I know there are some weird formal rules but that is ridiculous. If I get on my hands and knees, my dress will ride half way up my ass.

The dirty old man. The hell with him. But as I bend over to reach the lower shelf, I find my knees locked! I can’t seem to get myself to bend them!

FUCK!

I find I can get lower if I spread my feet apart a little. Still it is difficult to balance on these five-inch heels. I have to shove my ass backwards to balance my top half as I bend forward. A breeze from behind me makes me blush as I realize the lower half of my ass must be exposed. Even as I find myself in this humiliating position, a tingling in my crotch betrays my growing arousal.

As I dust, my ass swing back and forth in a counter balance to my motion. I know François is staring at my ass but there seems little I can do about it.

Noticing a reflection of myself in a full-length mirror on the wall, I see my nipples on display for all to see. Fuck! I quickly tuck them back in; only to have them pop free a minute later. The third time they slip free, I decide to just leave them exposed. With my back to him, he probably can’t see them anyways. I just need to get this job done fast.

Finishing, I quickly stand up and turn around, looking for the next job. It is only after I notice his dirty eyes fixed on my chest that I realize I haven’t make the adjustment to my shirt. I remedy this as quickly as I can. Again, against all I should be feeling, I feel even more aroused.

I proceed this way for the next hour, cleaning all the lower reaches of the furniture. I know by the bulge in his pants that he must be enjoying the display of my ass and the nipple slippage that has occurred all too frequently. Soon all that is left is the table that he is sitting at.

I have to get on my knees to reach the railing that goes under the large heavy table. I enter from the opposite side as François, but he just gets up and saunters over behind me. I am sure he can see not only my ass but also my swelling and moist vagina as the thong panties are stretched tight against it. Hell my inner thighs are extremely moist.

Finally I am done!

As I back out from under the table, François just smiles at me as he offers me a hand up.

“Before we start on the top of the cabinet, I need you to go get the mail,” he informs me.

Go outside in this outfit? He has got to be kidding.

Still I find myself obeying him as I head to the front door.

I’ll just hop in my car and take off. Take off to where? I wish I could remember something about my life.

Heading up the long drive, I see several cars going by. Of course he lives on a busy street. Several male drivers spot me walking. Some wave and others honk at me. I smile and wave back. I know some of those drivers, I realize with embarrassment. I just can’t remember who they are or where I remember them from.

I quickly get the mail. I want so much to run back to the house but legs won’t obey me. It is like I am enjoying the attention. Shit, I am enjoying it. How can I be enjoying it?

Coming back in, I hand him the mail. He smiles at me then he points to the step ladder, reminding me I am far from finished.

Grabbing the stepladder, he halls it over to one of the hutches. I follow carrying my supplies.

Why am I going along with this?

As I climb up to dust the top of the hutch, François stands at the base, acting as if he is stabilizing the ladder for me. I know he just wants to look up my skirt. At first I only have to go up a few rungs and stretch to get the near edge. Soon, though, I find myself climbing higher.

Looking back, I find my ass is just above François head, meaning he can see straight up my skirt. My whole body burns in shame.

As I reach back a little farther, one of my left foot slips. François’ hand is there to steady me. It rests on my bare ass cheek. Even after I have regained my balance, his hand does not move. Part of me actually likes this while the other part of me is appalled.

The next time up the ladder, his hand goes up my skirt before I even have a chance to stumble. I find myself actually pushing back against his hand. His thumb is buried between my ass cheeks and when I move, it actually grazes against my ass hole. To my humiliation, I have to stop and grab hold of the ladder with both hands as my body shivers in a mini-orgasm.

“MMM,” slips out my lips.

I quickly finish the top of the curio cabinet.

He moves the ladder to the grandfather clock and I obediently climb up it. This time he starts with both hands on my ass. My ass cheeks are firmly gripped, one in each hand.

His hands are rotated and more spread out, his pointing fingers making their way between my cheeks and his thumbs rest on my inner thighs. They pull on the edge of my newly shaven vagina. They are so close to my love box, so close to my hot pussy..

I actually wiggle my ass a little. His thumbs feel so wonderful as they rub against my pussy. So wonder...

Fuck!

I quickly finish the cleaning and climb back down. I am ready to tell him off when he picks up the ladder and moves it to the next location. He acts as if there was nothing wrong with what he was doing. I know it is wrong. I know?

Even as I debate this in my mind, I automatically climb back up the ladder. I actually desire to feel his hands on me again. Fuck, I need his hands on me.

He seems to hear my silent cry as he sets his hands on my ass again. One of his thumbs actually rests gently on the opening of my pussy. I try to ignore it but it just feels so good. Leaning slightly forward, his thumb sinks in.

“Ummmm,” slips from my lips again.

A vigorous rubbing on top of the cabinet causes my ass to shake and my pussy to rub against his thumb. It has sunk an inch into my hole, only the thin fabric of my panties keeping it from getting lost in my pussy.

I want so much for the cloth of my panties to give way or for his thumb to find its way around the edge. Yet wiggle as I may, it stays where it is. I feel a hot drip of my own juice sliding down my thigh.

I shudder as he uses is other thumb pointer fingers to spread the moisture along my crack. As he nears my asshole, he starts massaging it in.

At first I am tense but a voice whispers in the back of my head that this will be pleasurable. Pleasurable? Pleasurable.

His fingers have slid around the thin strip of cloth that covered her ass. They gentle massages me causing my asshole to stretch. Meanwhile his thumb has found my clit and is causing me to come close to loosing it yet again.

As my body comes closer to climaxing, my ass pushes back and his finger, lubricated with the juice of my own pussy, slides in to the first knuckle. I seem to loose all control of my body as I start humping both his fingers. I hear a tearing sound as the thin fabric of the panties finally gives way. First one of his thumbs and then both of them work my pussy.

My hands have already gone to my breasts, which have long since popped out of their confines. They push, pinch, and twist my nipples. It feels so fucking good.

“AHHH!!” I holler as an orgasm washes over me. Still my body keeps building as he continue.

His finger on in my ass goes from tolerable to enjoyable. I can’t believe I actually like the feel of it as it sinks deeper up my nether regions.

I approach yet another peak and the world grows hazy. With an overload of luscious feeling I crest yet again.

“FUCKKKKKK!!!” I hear someone screaming; recognizing it as my voice. I collapse backwards into François arms. As I fade away I am amazed at the strength of this dirty old 90-year-old man.

Returning to consciousness, I find myself sucking on François thumb. I know I recognize this delicious taste in my mouth. Blushing I realize I am sucking my own juices I am sucking off his fingers and I am enjoying the flavor.

I am lying on his lap while he sits on the floor. I can feel his hard cock pressed again my ass.

I am a married woman! I stand up as quick as I can, still a little shaky.

“I am glad you are awake,” he smiles at me, “but now I am a mess.” He gestures at himself. I can see wet spots on his pants and the arms of his shirt where I have leaked over him. “I need to get cleaned up. Follow me.”