The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

When Brandie checked her messages after the plane landed, there were several bits of good news. First, Clarisse had found the box of glass figurines that she’d lost during the move. She’d apparently brain-glitched and labelled it “TOOLS” after packing it, so it had been left on a shelf in the garage. Fortunately, the actual packing had been more careful, and no damage was done.

Clarisse also had heard back from the vet about Sasha’s test results. Her listlessness and lack of appetite were just a virus that would run its course in another day or two. This morning, she’d accepted a few nibbles of soft food and allowed herself to be held rather than looking for a place to hide.

The next message was from the bank, notifying her of a $8169.71 deposit from the Million Dollar Cherry production company. That would be five thousand for her panelist appearance plus royalties for her three recordings. The last one was probably the biggest contributor to that part, between the first-day surge and the higher percentage for panelists.

Finally, there was a message from the company asking if she’d be interested in scheduling one or two more appearances next month. Apparently she’d made a good impression onstage, backstage, and during yesterday’s lunch meeting.

Grinning like an idiot, she forwarded that message to Clarisse. She told herself that she wasn’t just bragging or fishing for congratulations; if they were both going to be on the show they’d need to coordinate so that one of them could at home getting the titles out on time, or at least as close to on time as a small independent press ever was. Until now, Clarisse had managed by remote control during her trips to the studio, and found it to be both inadequate and annoying.

It should be easy enough to work out the details. The producers were good about making last-minute adjustments to panelists’ travel plans, so she could always cut a trip short and head home right after taping if necessary, instead of spending an extra day the way she had just now.

If this was the start of a regular panelist gig, life was going to be very pleasant. Not to mention profitable. Over a few years, appearance payments and royalties could easily add up to more than the million she’d been competing for in the first place.

During the drive home, she heard the new-message chime on her phone. She considered pulling off somewhere to see what it was, but decided to wait. It was only another fifteen minutes or so.

At last, she pulled into the garage. She took her phone out of her pocket and pulled up the message:

Great :—)!—Errands tonite; home 8ish—XXX Clarisse

Sasha was at the inside garage door, and started up her “MRRR-EOWW!” cry for a kitty treat. That was a good sign. Brandie let her have two, resolving not to let it become a habit.

The box of figurines was sitting open on the kitchen table. Sure enough, everything was intact. Next to the box was a stack of mail forwarded from her old address. She took a few minutes to sort through it, and set aside the few non-junk items for later.

Then Brandie settled into the recliner, turned on the TV, and started downloading her latest backstage session. What with the lunch meeting, a tour of the set more extensive than the one she’d gotten as a contestant, and dinner with Pierre followed by drinks, conversation, and lovemaking, she hadn’t had a chance to see it before catching her flight home.

The standard intro music and logo appeared. Just then, the house phone rang. Brandie let the recording play while she politely, and then more forcefully, informed the drone at the other end that she already had a perfectly good car warranty.

When she hung up, the intro proper was underway. She decided not to bother rewinding. The host was telling Valencia. “Sometimes, you can learn interesting things about your own tastes, things that you’d missed because you simply hadn’t explored all your options.”

“A very insightful observation!” the narrator remarked. “And those options are...?” The comment was followed by quick excerpts of Brandie and Pierre’s arrival on the stage.

Freeze-frame on Valencia’s face. “Hmmmm... boy... girl... boy... girl....” the voiceover mused as the scene cross-faded from Valencia’s face to her contestant-bio photo. A series of bullet points appeared in a text box one by one, as the narrator read them off in a bored tone. “Valencia Montiz... 24... five-six, or 166 centimeters if you swing that way...”

Then the entry “Sexual Preference: STRAIGHT” appeared with a “ding” chime. “Aha! Good news for Pierre...” the narrator declared. Then, in a conspiratorial tone, she continued, “...if true!” She paused a beat, and purred, “Let’s watch Valencia exploring those options, and find out what her tastes really are, once and for all....”

Cut to a montage of scenes from the game. Brandie watched herself giving Valencia a backrub, and heard the other woman’s contented sigh. Then Pierre was rubbing Valencia’s legs, with only a faint background sound of breathing.

Brandie giggled. The producers must be pretty confident about Pierre’s sense of humor. Given the way he’d laughed when she’d told him about her ploy for winning the last round, that was probably a safe bet.

Judging from his performance last night, he had good reason to be self-confident in that regard, “long recharge time” notwithstanding. If Valencia wasn’t really into men and in denial about it, that was hardly his fault.

Valencia’s breathing became much louder as the montage proceeded to a scene of Brandie stroking her ass, with a crossfade to an angle that showed her subtly but unmistakably arching herself into it. Cut to Pierre squeezing Valencia’s tits, followed by a slow pan up her shoulders to show her head lying flat on the table, with an impassive expression on what could be seen of her masked face.

The scene shifted to Brandie energetically massaging Valencia’s feet. The “Sexual Preference: STRAIGHT” entry reappeared at the bottom of the screen, as a series of dissolve-and-pan shots moved up the bound woman’s body and showed her hips wriggling as she gasped.

“Oh, really?” the narrator asked in an arch voice. An animated pen appended a big red question mark after “STRAIGHT”.

“At the very least, I’d say that she’s bending a bit!” the voiceover continued as the scene shifted to the final round. Closeups of Brandie fingering Valencia’s snatch through her thong and then peeling the garment away were intercut with views of Valencia’s masked face as her lips puckered and her head tilted back.

“Did I say ‘bending’? More like doing a hundred-and-eighty-degree backflip!” the narrator purred.

A view of Valencia’s face jump-cut to a closeup of her mouth as she whispered “More....”

“Did she just say she wants more?” the narrator rhetorically asked. The video did a quick rewind, with old-fashioned blur lines and squeaky ‘backwards’ sound. The moment was replayed, with an even tighter closeup on her lips and the whispered word amplified to normal speaking volume. “Why, yes! Yes, she did!”

The background scene faded away, leaving only the “Sexual Preference: STRAIGHT?” text box. There was a muffled drum roll as the narrator declaimed, “And the reality check says...?”

A buzzer sounded, and the letters of the word “STRAIGHT” jumped like startled living things. They then began scrambling over and past each other. Brandie caught one of the “T”s turning upside down as its crossbar slid to morph it into an “L”, and also the hole in the “A” expanding to turn it into an “O”. As the letters settled into their final arrangement, Valencia’s contestant photo faded into view behind them. The question mark at the end straightened into an exclaimation point with a “boing!” sound effect, completing the new annotation—“Sexual Preference: HOT GIRLS!".

“Well, I think Brandie would be glad to oblige,” the narrator declared over a closing scene of Valencia being wheeled backstage. “Admittedly, there’s only one of her, but one dose of Brandie goes a long way!”

Brandie rolled her eyes at the pun, and made a mental note to ask the producers not to run it into the ground. She then punched a few buttons on the remote to skip the intro credits and go to the main feature.

It began with a long establishing view of the backstage bedchamber. Then, she watched herself wheeling the massage table with its bound occupant into the room, and maneuvering it into place alongside the bed. There was just enough room between the other side of the table and the wall for her to stand.

“Hello, Valencia. Can you hear me?”

“Yes.” Good. She rembembered being a bit worried that Valencia’s leather mask would muffle her hearing even with the earpieces removed.

“Just lie back and relax.” A bit awkwardly, she leaned forward, bracing her left hand onto the massage table. Her lips met Valencia’s cheek, and she gave it a gentle peck.

Remembering how she’d stumbled while leaning in, Brandie smiled at how well she’d managed to make it look like she’d meant to do that. Just like a cat. She glanced at Sasha, now curled up and asleep in one of the leftover boxes from the move.

When she looked back to the screen, the real kiss of lips against lips was underway. It quickly progressed to tongue against tongue.

“You liked that, didn’t you?”

There was a long pause before Valencia admitted, “Yes.”

“You liked that, knowing that it was a woman kissing you?”

She didn’t take as long to answer this time. “Yes.”

“That’s because you’re a lesbian, Valencia. Or at least strongly bi.”

Thinking back to the clips of Valencia’s responses during the game, Brandie decided that she was right the first time. Even allowing for the way they editors had rigged the presentation, the fact was that not once during the game had she responded to Pierre’s touch the way she’d wriggled and moaned for her.

“I—” Valencia began.

“Shhh!” Brandie placed her finger across Valencia’s lips. “Just lie back and listen. Don’t talk unless I ask you a question.”

Valencia nodded. Brandie remembered the thrill she’d felt as the other woman easily submitted to her command. Watching, she felt the thrill all over again.

“It doesn’t matter what you wrote on the contestant bio. It doesn’t matter what you tell other people, or what you tell yourself. What does matter is what your body tells you.”

Brandie wondered if any of these lines would actually work in the real world. She’d have to talk to Clarisse about that. She seemed to know what she was doing when it came to fanning a spark of bi-curiosity into a pickup opportunity.

“And you’re really going to like this.” In a slow motion closeup, her hands settled onto Valencia’s tits, and began alternately kneading, stroking, and resting in place. She chuckled as her fingernails slid up the underside of Valencia’s breast, her fingers held just the same way as when she scritched Sasha under the chin.

“Now this is how to handle a woman’s breasts, don’t you agree?”

“Oh... oh, yes.”

She gently pinched her on the left nipple, causing her to jerk as her mouth puckered into an “O”. “Much better than before, isn’t it?”

Valencia nodded. “I don’t just mean ‘better than a few minutes ago, out on the stage’. I mean ‘better than ever’.” She repeated the pinch on her right nipple.

“Oooooo!... Yes!!”

Brandie remembered not being sure if that was actually an answer, or just a cry of pleasure. She still wasn’t. But she’d let it stand as an answer.

For a little while, the pinching and fondling continued. Brandie saw her hands lifting away, and her head bending down to lick and suck on the bound woman’s nipples. Watching from the outside, she was pleased to see signs of pleasure in Valencia’s mouth and body language. Behind her mask, she visualized the woman’s eyes opening wide if not downright bugging out.

Eventually, she stood up again, and put her hands onto Valencia’s body just below her breasts. They stroked her in slow circles, gently massaging. Each circle was a little bit further down her body than the last.

Soon, her hands were halfway toward their objective. A fingertip slid into her belly button, then jiggled back and forth and around. Valencia shuddered. Brandie leered, and then giggled as she noticed the leer that had been on her own face at the time.

Well, you didn’t exactly need to be Sigmund Freud to interpret the symbolism.

“A few minutes from now, you’ll feel the real thing. It’ll be a lot more intense and sensual than it was out there on the stage.” She paused a beat to let that sink in. “I was holding back out there, Valencia. I was holding back so that you’d think it was a man’s hands fumbling over your body, like you’re used to. I was holding back so that I could bring you back here and properly introduce you to a woman’s touch.”

Her right hand continued its downward progress. Her left stroked her companion’s chin. Again, Brandie was amused to notice how closely the action resembled petting the cat. Then she broke up laughing at a closeup showing how Valencia was leaning her head into it.

She finally stopped giggling when she was her left hand shift from chin to breast. Her right was beginning to tickle her partner’s pubic hair. She arched her back to lift her body from the table and bring her crotch a bit closer to those fingers.

And then fingertips began probing and exploring in earnest, tracing the bound woman’s labia and finding her clit. “Ooohhhhh.... oh, yesssss....” she moaned in response.

The scene stretched on and on. Brandie watched Valencia writhe, heard her moan, and felt sorry for her. She was so close to release, and was being deliberately denied. She really could be a cast-iron bitch when she was in domme mode, Brandie realized. She told herself that the payoff was worth it for both partners.

“I’m still holding back, just a little. I’m holding you right at the brink, almost but not quite cumming. Are you ready for me to take you over the brink?”

“Yes! Yes... please...!”

“Very well. Just one more minute.” She continued to gently stroke at Valencia’s snatch with her left hand, as her right reached to unclip the tie lines binding her to the massage table one by one.

“Roll over to your left, darling. I’ve unfastened the bindings. Roll over to your left until you’re on the bed, and roll over again to get into the middle.”

Without hesitation, she complied. Brandie watched herself sliding out from behind the massage table. The scene dissolved into a view of her leaning over the foot of the bed and removing Valencia’s shin bands, and from there to her climbing into the bed and straddling her body over her partner’s. She undid Valencia’s arm bands, then doffed her robe and let it fall onto her companion’s legs.

“Feel that? That’s my robe. I’m here in bed with you, completely naked...” She leaned forward and unbuckled the collar. “...just like you’re going to be.” She tugged the collar out from under the other woman’s neck and tossed it aside.

“In a few moments, I’ll take off your mask. Then you’ll be able to see youself naked, and me naked, and this bed all laid out as our lesbian love nest.” She resumed her stroking of Valencia’s pussy and clit. “Just as soon as I make sure that you’re so totally wet and horny that there won’t be room for any thought in your head other than how badly you need to cum.”

Valencia gasped. “Please... please let me cum!”

“Very well. I think you’re ready.” She reached around to the buckles at the back of the leather mask.

And then Brandie heard the door opening. She stopped the program and got up to greet her lover.

“Hello!” Brandie met Clarisse in the hallway and gave her a quick kiss.

“Congratulations!” Clarisse replied. She handed Brandie a giftwrapped box.

“Thank you!” Brandie tore off the wrappings and began opening the box inside.

“Just something for you to wear when you don’t feel like explaining yourself.”

Inside was a pink T-shirt with two large yin-yang symbols on the breasts. The first had interlocked male and female symbols on one side and a pair of interlocked female symbols on the other. The second had a hand holding a riding crop on one side and two hands bound together at the wrists on the other.

Below the graphic, the shirt read “BISEXUAL & SWITCHY—Having It All”.

Brandie laughed. “Don’t tell me they sell T-shirts like that!”

“No, but they print just about any graphic you care to give them.” Clarisse continued on into the den and saw what was on the screen. “I take it that’s your backstage debut as a panelist?”

“Yep,” she grinned. “Haven’t you seen it yet?”

“Not yet—straightening out a snafu with this month’s ship dates, getting Sasha to the vet... I’ve been busy.”

“Well, then, how about we start it over from the beginning and watch it together?”

Eventually, they did get around to seeing the entire show. But not this time. By the time Brandie and Valencia got into bed on the screen, Brandie and Clarisse had done likewise in reality.

As she lay down, Brandie considered spending part of her payment on a big flatscreen display for the bedroom. As Clarisse joined her and they drew each other close, she decided that a few strategically placed mirrors would be both cheaper and more entertaining.