The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I thought about Michelle constantly for the next week. Just as she had told me I would, I noticed other girls, but seemed useless around them. if a pretty girl smiled at me, at the store or in the street, I found myself stammering over a simple greeting, and more often than not their smile turned to an expression of disdain when I showed my ineptness. Surprisingly, this didn’t bother me much at first. I realized it was part of Michelle’s hold over me, and was impressed, in a scientific way, at what she had done. I took to avoiding eye contact with girls, just to avoid the embarrassment and contented myself with thinking about Michelle, which satisfied me more than I would have expected. I couldn’t contact her myself ... I picked up the phone but it was as if I’d forgotten how to dial it, I could send e-mail to everyone but her. My only choice was to wait until she called me again, and I looked forward to that call more desperately with each passing day.

I was patient, though, and assumed that she was unable to get away from Dave and was waiting to call for a day when we could be alone together again without the chance of him coming home. Needless to say, I was overjoyed the next Saturday morning when I picked up the phone and heard her say hello. She said that Dave was gone for the weekend and asked if I wanted to come over.

“Sure, you know I do. I’ve been thinking about you all week.”

“I know.” she said, in a smug, satisfied tone that stirred me immediately. “I knew you would make a good slave! Listen, I want you to stop at the store and get a few things on your way over here.”

Of course, I agreed, and she told me to get a pen. I found myself getting indignant as the list wore on, through two pages of notepaper .... everything from tampons and a copy of Cosmopolitan to diet bars to vegtables .... easily a shopping list for an entire week. Nevertheless, when she asked if I minded doing this “favor” for her, her voice sounded so sweet and solicitous that I found myself protesting “of course not!”

So I stopped at the supermarket and bought groceries that amounted to $95, blushing a little as the clerk scanned the tampons and Cosmo. It didn’t bother me though, and I was pleased with myself on the drive to Michelle’s that I hadn’t missed a thing on the list.

When I arrived she was out back, tanning by the pool, which was lucky for me. She had on a very sexy sky blue bikini, with the kind of hip hugger bottoms that look even better on Michelle than skimpier bottoms because they hug the curves of her ass so tightly. Something about her made me physically weak as she stood up and walked towards me, the diamond in her belly ring shining bright white light in the sun.

I held out my arms for her but she walked past me, smiling brightly, to open the patio door. She looked back, as I stood there staring, and her expression turned suddenly cross. “Well, did you get the groceries?”

I just nodded dumbly.

“Well, bring them inside....” she said, frustrated with my slowness as she disappeared into the house. I curse myself for staring at her like a retard, with her groceries in a car in the hot sun and set about bringing them in. She sat on the kitchen counter, legs crossed, with a wine cooler in her hand, telling me where to put everything away. When I was done I took out the receipt and handed it to her. She gave me a hurt look, as if I’d just slapped her or something, and looked at me quizzically: “what’s this Jon?”

“The receipt.” I found myself stammering a little, suddenly embarrassed. “For the groceries ... $95.”

“Ah.” She stood up and crumpled the receipt, dropping it at my feet. She looked at me, more stern than hurt now, and my heart dropped into my throat. “You don’t expect me to pay that do you? After I was so kind as to let you come over and everything.”

I really did feel like a heel, suddenly. “I’m sorry, Michelle. I’ve been stupid lately. Of course I’ll pay for the groceries.”

“That’s good.” she said, brightening a little and as she did, a glow emanated from her navel ring as if to mirror her smile, cutting the darkness of the kitchen. “I hope you kept the list, too, because you’re going to be shopping for me every week from now on.”

I patted my front pocket where the folded list was, proud to have done something right. She walked by me again, her aura sweeping over me as she passed close and I followed her back out to the patio, eyes transfixed on the luscious curves of her ass, encased in those tight blue shorts, swaying gently in front of me.

“I thought that next you would mow the lawn.” she said nonchalantly, picking up her Cosmo and settling into her chair by the pool.

I looked at the lawnmower standing by the patio and then back at her, and it must have been the hangdog look in my eyes that made her laugh. “What?” she said, standing up and coming towards me, her eyes hidden behind dark shades. “Did you think I was going to let you eat me again or something?”

I admitted, bashfully, that I had hoped she would. Her lips tightened a little as she stared me down, but her belly ring seemed to sparkle playfully like the light I had often seen in her eyes, as if it enjoyed the way I stammered and blushed through my explanation. “Well ... Michelle ....see, we had ... such a good time .. I just thought ...hoped.... you know.....”

She stopped me before I became incoherent, by placing a finger to my lips and smiling mercifully. “I know what you thought, slave.” she said. “But that’s not something you have a right to do .. it’s a reward. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, of course I do.” I said, realizing yet again how obtuse and insensitive I had been.

“Now, I should send you home right now, but I’m going to let you mow my lawn, and then I have some chores for you inside. If you do a good job I’m going to let you come over every weekend. Does that sound fair?” Of course it did. I told her it sounded more than fair and she smiled indulgently. “In that case,” she said, turning away from me. “I will let you have a little reward.” Her little bottom wiggled, and she hooked her fingers in the shorts and pulled them down over her tight cheeks. “You may kiss my ass...I know you’ve been watching it since you got here.”

“Yes, I have, of course!” I said, kneeling behind her. Her ass was just as firm and tight as the rest of her body, and just as tan, thanks to the salon. I remembered that when we had been going out it had been white and not quite as toned, and I kissed it lovingly, moving up and down over the twin mounds.

I could tell she enjoyed it by the way she bent forward and said, a little breathlessly “lick it too.” I obeyed eagerly, running my tongue up and down along her cheeks and down the valley between them, all the way to her little hole, and back up. She wiggled against me, as I traced my tongue down her crack and she told me to slide it inside her. I’d never done that before, and the thought had seemed revolting to me in the past, but today I wanted nothing more than to slide my tongue around and inside that beautiful little asshole of my Mistress.

After a few minutes of my worship she stood up and pushed me away, sliding her shorts on again. She lowered herself into the chair with a satisfied smile and told me to get to work, which of course I did. I was light headed with joy, savoring her taste on my lips as I pushed the lawnmower in the hot sun. I looked over at her quite often as she laid there, reading her Cosmo, thinking how beautiful she looked and once in a while she would smile back and make me proud. I knew that I was acting strangely and that she’d done something to my mind—I knew she was somehow “using” me, but it didn’t seem to matter at all.

Twenty minutes or so later I looked up from mowing to see that another girl had arrived, and my heart sank into my stomach. The girl was Wendy LaChance, and she was probably the only woman I’d ever known who had thoroughly earned the sobriquet “bitch.” She was a friend of Michelle’s though I could never figure out why, because the two were so different—Michelle, gentle, trusting, kind and honest, Wendy vicious, suspicious, snide and deceptive. Maybe there was an “opposites attract” kind of dynamic between them, and they balanced each other out in a cosmic way. Be that as it may, when I saw her walk onto the patio my first reaction was to run for the bushes, because Wendy loved gossip above most things, and loved it more when it was painful gossip. She was sure to tell everyone in town that I’d been at Michelle’s house, when Dave was away, and he was sure to find out, if Wendy didn’t tell him herself. I thought Michelle was smart enough to realize this and was shocked when she smiled at me and beckoned me over.

There was no escape now. I’d been seen, so the thing to do was put a good face on it. There wasn’t anything wrong with mowing a friend’s lawn was there—it was perfectly innocent, as far as Wendy should know.

Wendy looked at me contemptuously as I approached. She had been giggling with Michelle over something, but when I stepped onto the patio her expression changed and she sneered at me “What are you doing here?”

She was a beautiful girl, physically, with long brown hair that reached her shoulders, almond eyes, and a luscious body with all the right curves and flat places. The red bikini she wore showed that body off to perfection and as usual I found myself admiring her in spite of myself, my tongue going to mush as it did with all attractive girls (except Michelle) lately. I wasn’t sure how to respond, and looked at Michelle before saying simply “mowing the lawn.”

“Does Dave know you’re here.” Wendy was never one to mince words. I blushed and stammered a bit, but Michelle spoke up instantly. “Of course he does. Dave doesn’t mind me having a slave at all!”

“Slave?” Wendy’s eyes bugged out as if she thought Michelle had gone crazy and I blushed so hard my face tingled. Michelle was perfectly nonchalant, however.

“Yes, Jon’s my slave now.” she said, smiling at me. “Go get us a couple of wine coolers, slave.”

“Yes, of course.” I jumped to obey, and hurried into the house, derisive laughter from Wendy behind me. My mind was racing, panicked, as I considered the implications of what Michelle had just said. If you told something to Wendy, you were telling the whole town. And Dave? Did Dave really know?

I resolved to tell Wendy it was just a joke, a game we were playing, but when I returned with the girls’ drinks I knew that was impossible. I knew that something would not let me say it. Wendy took the drink from me and looked at me with a newfound contempt that was unusual even for her. “So he does anything you tell him to?” she asked, looking at me but talking to Michelle.

Michelle giggled, enjoying my obvious embarrassment. “Yes, that’s right. You’ll do everything I tell you to now, don’t you slave?”

I looked at her, wanting to tell her to stop this now, before it got out of hand ... before the whole town knew. She was standing there, smiling at me, hands on her hips in a confident pose. I found my eyes drawn down her body, resting on the sparkling diamond in her navel and my head became fuzzy. I realized suddenly that she wanted the whole town to know, and that everything she was saying was more true than I’d thought. This wasn’t a game and I couldn’t have stopped it if I wanted to.

“Yes, Mistress, I do everything you say.”

“And it turns you on, doesn’t it, to be controlled?”

“Yes, very much so.” I looked Michelle in the eye and felt my cock rise, making a tent in my shorts. I knew Wendy was still watching, and I was deeply embarrassed by my situation, but I could not deny the truth, and I felt Michelle’s control physically now.

“Take off your shorts.” she commanded and I did so instantly, my hands moving on their own as I pulled them down and stood in front of the two girls naked, my cock standing straight up.

Wendy laughed. “Oh my god ... I do NOT believe this.” She shook her head and made a disgusted face at me.

“Stroke your cock for us, Jon. I want you to show Wendy how you come.” Michelle’s voice was cruel now, but the sound of it made my shaft twitch. I wrapped a hand around my cock, mortified, but unable to resist. I began to stroke myself up and down, immensely turned on by the sight of these two beautiful women in bikinis before me. Wendy opened her brown eyes wide in amazement, staring.

“His cock is kind of small, but I didn’t know any better in high school.” Michelle spoke about me dismissively, as if I couldn’t hear her but the sound of her voice degrading me made me stroke even faster. ““He knows he’s not going to be able to fuck me, so I decided to let him make himself cum once in a while.”

Wendy laughed. nervously, her eyes focused on me. “He knows you won’t let him fuck you, but he does everything you say? That is so pitiful!”

Michelle smirked, running a hand gently over her breast as she spoke, caressing a nipple through he top as she watched me. “I know, but he can’t help himself.” Her hand slide unobtrusively down her stomach, toying gently with her ring, as if to remind me how she’d taken control. “And he understands that he’s not good enough for me, or you, or any woman in fact. He understands that he could never compare in bed to someone like Dave, don’t you slave.”

“Yes, Mistress, I know.” I blurted out, and at the same moment felt a wave of release that buckled my knees. My cock throbbed and spurted several times, spraying jets of sticky white cum all over my hand, my chest, and my stomach. I groaned and looked at Michelle, feeling suddenly relaxed, smiling into her eyes.

She stared straight back at me, a slightly cruel twist of her mouth the only emotion, and said “lick it up.”

“Mistress?”

“Your cum, lick it all up .. now.”

Her voice was calm, but stern and irresistible. I heard Wendy say “ewwwww!", but I felt her eyes on me still, disgusted but fascinated, as I lifted my hand to my mouth and began to suck the warm cum from it. I grimaced but found myself lapping my hand eagerly, scooping up the white liquid with my tongue and swallowing.

“You like the taste of your cum, don’t you slave?”

Michelle’s voice was very matter of fact, and my cum did, in fact taste surprisingly sweet. “Yes, Mistress, I do.” I said, sucking the last of it from one of my fingers. I noticed that the ring in Michelle’s navel was beginning to glow again, getting gradually brighter.

“And from now on, you’re going to masturbate every night and eat all of your delicious cum afterwards because you can’t get enough of it.”

“Yes, Mistress, I am.” I ran my hand over my stomach, scooping up a gob that had landed there and sucked it from my fingers. I regretted that it was almost gone as I searched my chest for more.

“I can’t believe it!” Wendy was beside herself. “What an absolute loser! I can’t believe you’d ever fuck this guy...”

“I know.” said Michelle, smiling at me. “But he has his uses. Why don’t you get Wendy and I another drink, Jon, and then you can do your chores inside.”

“My chores, Mistress?”

“Yes, there’s a list on the dining room table.”

There was quite a lengthy list, in Michelle’s elegant handwriting. It included vacuuming all the carpets, mopping the kitchen floor, cleaning the bathroom, doing the laundry.... much more than I thought I could accomplish in an afternoon. I didn’t mind the work. Although I kept telling myself I should be furious and that this was the most pitiful thing I’d ever done, I couldn’t seem to muster the anger.

I was well rewarded for my effort because after Wendy left Michelle allowed me to eat her pussy again, laying back in the living room chair with her legs spread out over the arms. She was a beautiful sight and her limber pose gave my mouth the best access it had ever had to her, as well as a feast for my eyes as I watched the reactions to my tongue and lips on her face. She told me that I would only have half-an-hour because, although she had told Dave about me, she did not want me to be there when he got home. I understood, and made the most of my time, suckling at the folds of her skin, probing and flicking, guided by her voice and hands to please her at her own pace until I had felt her body stiffen and thrust several times beneath me and had to hold her still while she came.

My half-hour reward was up then, but Michelle let me stroke my cock for her again. This time she video taped me, something that I thought fleetingly I should probably object to, but didn’t seem to have the words or will to do so. I had one of the biggest orgasms I can remember as she taped me. urging me on, and then she sent me home, the taste of my own fresh cum still on my lips as I drove.