The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Brandie browsed through the package waiting for her in the Green Room, searching through the jewelry, vibrators, perfume, lubricants, handbags, handcuffs, and other such goodie-bag gifts from the sponsors. At the bottom of the box, she found the folder that contained her stage directions. It turned out that rules for today’s game were fairly simple, as were the instructions to go to Stage Two when the show began and wait the curtain to open.

She double-checked the bag for a robe or bikini. There wasn’t one, but there should be. Street clothes were OK for games where the panelists sat back and watched, but this one involved a fair amount of direct hands-on interaction with the contestant.

She pressed the gofer call button, and a few minutes later the staff had found a robe for her. The panelist liaison apologized for the mixup and promised to send out a memo urging the staff to be more careful. Brandie reminded him that there was another panelist who would also need a robe, and then she ducked into a changing room.

When she returned, Pierre was waiting. She hadn’t had a chance to get in touch since that first backstage session, and was looking forward to a chance to chat.

“Brandie!” He gave her a friendly-greeting kiss on the cheek. “This is the first time I’ve ever heard of the show recruiting a contestant to be one of the panelists. Congratulations!”

“Thanks.” As Pierre riffled through his Green Room packet, Brandie described the minor snafu. Just at that moment, the gofer showed up with Pierre’s robe. He excused himself, leaving before Brandie could object that modesty between the two of them was a bit silly.

After he got back, they made small talk for a while. Eventually, they found themselves discussing dinner plans—for tonight if they were free, or tomorrow night if one of them was busy with today’s contestant.

One of the interns knocked on the door and gave the five-minute warning. Brandie followed Pierre to Stage Two. It was still curtained off from the audience, of course. The backstage monitor showed the host introducing the latest contestant, Valencia Montiz. A trim brunette stepped up to center stage. She wore a black leather skirt and top, accessorized with matching bands on her shins and forearms and topped off with a studded collar.

Pierre turned to Brandie. “You’ll forgive me if I’m too selfish to wish you good luck taking this one backstage.”

“No need for either one of us to be completely selfish. According to the game rules, there’s a chance for a threesome.” Brandie grinned. “But, to be honest, I’ll be doing my best to get her all to myself.”

Valencia had reached the stage. The host was wrapping up his standard introductory spiel, and then asked Valencia if she was sure she wanted to go through with the game.

Pierre grined ruefully. “Is that your way of letting me know that you prefer girls, and the dinner invitation is purely social?”

Brandie paused, considering the best way to phrase her answer. “Yes and no. I tend to prefer girls, but sometimes....” She glanced at the monitor, where Valencia was confirming that, yes, she was ready and willing to play. “Later. We’re on any second now.”

The host began the event description. “We’re introducing a new game designed especially for first-round solo contestants. It’s called ‘What’s My Preference?’ This contest will give Valencia a chance to keep her cherry, or else determine whether she surrenders it to a man or a woman.” Interested murmurs arose from the crowd, but they mostly kept quiet to hear the details.

“Valencia, you’ve heard of ‘blind taste tests’ where you’re trying to distinguish Brand X from Brand Y without knowing which is which, haven’t you?” Valencia nodded. “Sometimes, you can learn interesting things about your own tastes, things that you’d missed because you simply hadn’t explored all your options.”

The backstage monitor flashed a five-second warning. Brandie got into place directly behind the curtain and beside Pierre.

The Stage Two curtain opened. Brandie blinked a couple of times as the lights hit her eyes, but strode onto center stage without stumbling as her vision adjusted. She saw the host gesture to focus attention on the two of them. “And now let’s meet Valencia’s options.”

The host waved toward Pierre. “Representing the male option is Pierre DaRelle, who scarcely needs any introduction.” For the benefit of new viewers, he got one anyway, including a plug for his upcoming TV series The Spice Of Life, about the trials and tribulations of a man who was magically irresistable to women, but with the side effect of being unable to spend more than twenty-four hours with any one partner.

Another wave, toward Brandie. “Representing the female option is a newcomer to our panel, though not exactly a newcomer to the show, Brandie Wilkins. I’m sure some of you remember her as a contestant.” A round of applause, whistles, and scattered chants of “BRAN-DIE!” showed that they did. Just the same, the highlights of her contestant history were presented for those who had come in late.

As Selena set up a small table with two thin stacks of cards, the explanation began. “Now, Valencia, the object of the game will be to distinguish between Pierre and Brandie. Instead of a blind taste test, this will be a blind touch test. One of them will lay hands on you, and then we’ll see if you can tell female from male—Brand XX from Brand XY, so to speak—by feel.”

Indicating Brandie and Pierre, the host continued, “We thought about having you reach out to touch them, but that would make it too easy. I’m sure that if you put your hands on Pierre’s chest, and then on Brandie’s chest, you could tell which was which at least two times out of three.” The audience laughter was loud, but short-lived.

Lucia rolled a large massage table onto the stage. She bent down to lock the wheels, drawing appreciative whistles as her miniskirt rode up to partially expose her behind.

“There will be ten rounds, five for each of our panelists in random order as determined by these cards.” The indicated stack had interlocked male and female symbols on the back. “The panelist chosen for that round will give you one minute of petting or tickling or massage, as the case may be, somewhere on your body as determined by these cards.” The other stack had a drawing that resembled da Vinci’s “Vitruvian Man”, except that this version had a female figure as seen from the rear. “And then you will attempt to correctly guess whether the touch you just felt is manly or womanly.” The exaggerated growling baritone and delicately lilting intonations of those two words fell a bit flat; only a few scattered chuckles emerged from the crowd.

“If you make at least six correct identifications, then you get to keep your cherry and advance to the next round. If not... well, then it’s time for you to become better acquainted with either the masculine or the feminine caress. Whichever panelist fooled you more often will take you backstage and give you a few hours of intensive hands-on instruction in the subject. Of course, the tuition cost for that course will be one cherry.” The host pointed to Valencia’s cherry trophy.

“In case of a tie, you will get two instructors for the price of one. As always, we’ve made sure that there’s plenty of room for three!” The audience voiced its approval of that possibility.

“And now, Lucia and Selena will make the final preparations for the game.”

Lucia undid Valencia’s top and pulled it open, while Selena knelt behind her and unzipped her skirt. As the crowd hooted and whistled, the garments were removed to reveal a sheer demibra and thong panties.

The assistants then guided the contestant onto the massage table and rolled her onto her belly. Her face settled into the thick padding of the head support. Lucia reached into a bag on the side of the table and picked out a pair of earbuds with over-the-ear loop holders, which she then placed in Valencia’s ears.

The host gestured for attention. “Do you see this button on my microphone?” After getting a rumble of acknowledgements, he made a show of pressing it. “Valencia? Can you hear me?”

“Yes.”

The question was then repeated with the button released. This time, there was no response.

Addressing the audience with a stern look, the host explained. “The noise-cancelling earplugs block out sound, except for what this microphone sends to them when I activate the switch. However, the sound isolation is not perfect, so I must request that you all avoid giving any clues to our contestant. Is everyone with me on that?” A chorus of agreement went up.

“And just a few precautions to make sure the contestant doesn’t look up or reach out.” Lucia clipped a couple of lines into place between the collar and the sides of the table, while Selena did likewise for the arm and leg bands.

“If your’re finished...?” The assistants nodded. “...We can begin the game.”

Lucia stepped up to the table and flipped over the top card of the male-and-female stack. Holding it up, she showed that it had a large male symbol. The host held finger to lip for silence as a reminder.

Selena flipped the top card of the “Vitruvian Woman” stack. It showed the drawing from the back of the card, with the hands highlighted and marked by arrows.

“Valencia, we are now beginning Round One.” Turning off the headphone switch, the host directed Pierre to hold Valencia’s hand—either one, or both, as he chose. He knelt at Valencia’s side, taking her right hand in his, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand. Lucia offered a little squeeze bottle of massage oil; he waved it aside. He continued until the one-minute chime sounded, then got up and returned to center stage.

“Valencia?” She nodded. “Was that Pierre or Brandie?”

“I think.... That was Pierre. I used to have a boyfriend who always did that thumb rub.” The scoreboard display at the bottom of each of the main monitors showed one point for Valencia.

“Was I right?” Valencia asked.

“I’m afraid we can’t tell you until the end of the game. If you knew that, you’d be able to count off Pierre and Brandie’s turns, and as soon as one of them got to five... well, that would ruin the rest of the game.”

The next cards were a female symbol and a drawing with the top of the head indicated. Even before being prompted, Brandie knew that it was her turn and that her target was Valencia’s scalp and hair.

Again, Lucia held out the squeeze bottle. She felt a moment of puckish temptation to use it to give Valencia a bizarre hairdo, but then shook her head.

Getting down to business, she slowly ran her fingers through Valencia’s midnight-black mane. She paused to twirl her hair in circles, and then continued to the back of her head and down to her neck. She then reversed course, moving even more slowly with more stops to twiddle and play with strands of hair. The crowd responded with low but intense murmurs until her time was up.

Valencia was more confident in her identification this time. “Definitely Brandie.” The scoreboard awarded Valencia another point.

The next draws were “female” and “the back”. Brandie got the host’s attention. “Can we stop the clock a moment while I ask a question?”

“All right.”

“That table looks big enough for me to straddle her and give her a backrub that way—is it sturdy enough to be safe with the extra weight?”

Signaling the booth to field the question, the host put his hand on his earpiece to signify that he was waiting for a reply. However, the answer was delivered over the studio speakers by the offscreen announcer. “That table is a RelaxiTech Grand Deluxe. It’s warrantied for a 500-pound load.”

Looking Brandie up and down, the host said, “I don’t think you two have anything to worry about. Go ahead!”

Brandie scrambled onto one side of the table, and signaled Selena to help her brace herself as she got a leg over Valencia and into position. She fumbled a bit with the catch of Valencia’s bra, and finally got it open and flipped the back straps aside. Lucia held out a massage oil bottle. This time she accepted it, and squirted it onto the prone woman.

She leaned forward and pressed her hands firmly into Valencia’s flesh as she rubbed them up and down her back. Valencia sighed, and the sound was quickly drowned out by the audience’s reactions.

When she was finished, Selena helped her down from the table. As she stepped away, she heard Valencia make her first wrong guess, and grinned. Maybe it was just luck, or maybe her hunch that her stance and heavy pressure would seem masculine had paid off.

For the fourth round, Pierre was selected and directed toward Valencia’s legs. He oiled his hands, then stroked his hands up and down the thigh and calf from just below the buttock to just above the leather shin band. At almost exactly the halfway point in his available time, he walked around the table to repeat the attentions to her right leg.

Again, Valencia guessed wrong. “That felt like a woman—that was Brandie.” The scoreboard now showed a point for each panelist and two for the contestant.

And then it was Brandie’s turn. She grinned when the other card indicated the figure’s rear end, drawing knowing chuckles from the crowd.

She spread massage oil over Valencia’s butt, and began to rub and knead. She quickly settled into a steady rhythm of stroking down toward the legs, and then up toward the torso, and then giving a gentle squeeze on each side. Valencia has a very nice ass, and she let herself fatasize about taking her backstage and doing this until they were both overcome with the need to seize each other’s bodies and fuck like minxes, and then doing it again afterwards to spice up the postcoital cuddle.

The next thing she noticed was the chime declaring that her time was up. Reluctantly, she stood up straight and returned to center stage.

“Valencia?” It took a moment to get the contestant’s attention. Apparently it had been good for her, too.

“I... I...” She paused for a long moment. “I’m going to say that was Brandie.”

Another point for the contestant. However, the possible implications were thought-provoking. Brandie recalled that she had identified herself as “straight”, but she definitely seemed to have relaxed and enjoyed the massage. And now she seemed a bit confused and even reluctant to declare that it had been a woman doing it to her. Admittedly, she hadn’t reacted that way before, but this was the first really intimate caress of the game.

Perhaps Valencia was indeed learning some interesting things about her own tastes.

Meanwhile, Lucia and Selena moved down the massage table and unclipped the tie lines. “And now, we will have Valencia turn face-up for the second half of the game,” the host explained. Glancing at the cards, Brandie noticed that the top card of the “body location” deck now showed a front view of the female figure.

Valencia rolled over onto her back. Loud cheers rang out as her naked breasts came into view, and Lucia picked up her unfastened bra and tossed it aside. Then Selena put her hand behind her shoulders and lifted, prompting her to sit up.

“Now, since Valencia is no longer staring down into a black padded head support, we’ll need another way to insure that she can’t see our panelists. The blindfold, please?”

Lucia reached into another bag near the head of the table. Scattered clapping and cries of “OOOOO!” rose from the spectators as she revealed that the “blindfold” was actually a solid leather wraparound mask. She placed it over Valencia’s face, while Selena adjusted and buckled the straps. As a finishing touch, the edges near the nose were taped down to insure that there were no gaps for peeking. When they were finished, the contestant’s head was almost completely covered, leaving only her mouth, nose, and hair exposed.

Selena gently but firmly pushed Valencia back down onto the table, and the lines were reattached to bind her arms, legs, and neck into place.

Confirming that everything was ready, the host told everyone, including Valencia, that Round Six would now begin. The cards were a male symbol and a drawing, now front-view to match the back of the card, with arrows and highlighting on the figure’s arms.

Pierre used much the same technique he had when rubbing Valencia’s legs: oil his hands, stroke from shoulder to forearm and back again, continue until his time was about half up, and then repeat on the other side.

The technique had worked before, and it worked again. He got another point as Valencia attributed the massage to Brandie.

Brandie decided that her success at making her think that a forceful backrub had been Pierre’s doing wasn’t just dumb luck, after all. Apparently Valencia believed, at least subconsciously, that men were strong and rough while women were gentle and delicate. Maybe if she hadn’t let herself get caught up in the pleasure of stroking and fondling her butt, and put some more muscle into it, she would have scored that point.

Oh, well, she still had time to rack up enough points to win this thing.

Her next chance came when she was selected in Round Six, to rub Valencia’s feet. She slapped oil from toes to ankles, and then began to squeeze as if she were pressing a popped joint back into place. Valencia gasped, and so did some of the spectators.

Letting up a bit, she firmly pressed her thumbs into the other woman’s soles at various points. Every so often, she grasped one foot and flexed it a bit. She took a few seconds to gently wiggle each toe back and forth, and then resumed her more forceful attentions.

As she hoped, Valencia named Pierre as the foot-rubber. Now each panelist had two points on the board, and Valencia had three. She was going backstage with somebody unless she ran the board on all three remaining rounds; now, the more pressing question was which of them would be her companion. She had one more turn and Pierre had two; not good but not hopeless either.

Pierre got one of his remaining turns next, with the figure’s belly marked on the body card. He began sliding his well-oiled hands across Valencia’s body in wide sweeps. Every other stroke or so, his fingers would brush against her breasts or encroach upon the upper fringes of her bush. If there was supposed to be a penalty for that, his violations weren’t blatant enough to incur it; the host smiled indulgently while the audience snickered.

After he finished, Valencia correctly identified him. Brandie wondered whether his pattern of copping a feel every chance he got had given him away.

Lucia stretched out the suspense of which of them would be chosen to do what for the penultimate round. When she revealed the cards, they showed a male symbol and a female figure with the breasts indicated.

Pierre grinned. Brandie stifled her own grin as she knew that she would have the final turn and guessed where her attentions would be directed.

With an assist from Selena, Pierre climbed onto the table and assumed the straddling position Brandie had used for the backrub round. He squirted oil into his hand and then rubbed them together, as the audience urged him to begin. He lunged forward to grab Valencia’s boobs and squeeze them firmly. Then he moved his hands in opposing circles, pushing her tits up, then apart, then down, then together, over and over.

Valencia moaned. The audience cheered.

Brandie watched Pierre settle into a pattern of steady squeezing and relaxing. Her thumb and forefinger pressed together as she imagined herself in his place, delicately tweaking the other woman’s nipples. And then she smiled. If her hunch was correct, Valencia would definitely assume that this simple grab-and-squeeze was a “masculine” touch, leaving the path clear for her if she could just win the final round.

The chime sounded, and Pierre climbed down. Continuing to extend the suspense, the host waited a long moment before asking Valencia for her answer.

“I’m going to say Pierre.”

The scoreboard now showed two points for each panelist and five for the contestant. It was down to the final round, Brandie realized. Valencia would either advance to the next contest, or else accompany her backstage.

The draw of the final cards was even more prolonged than before, even though everyone who could count to five knew that it would be Brandie’s turn. Nor was it any real surprise that the final body card directed her to the contestant’s pubes.

Brandie began to finger Valencia’s snatch through the thin panty material... and then noticed the seams where the little triangle of fabric met the waistband. They looked like the built-in tear-away seams she recalled from some previous events. Sure enough, they ripped apart fairly easily, to the delight of the audience.

She forced herself to think rather than simply give in to the pleasure of the moment. If she won this round, she’d have plenty of time for pleasure later.

Using raw muscle to appear masculine had worked before, but this situation didn’t seem right for that approach. She probed Valencia’s pussy with a fingertip. She was wet, but not enough. Thrusting a couple fingers in and out of her cunt would cross the line from forceful to hurtful, and she recoiled from the idea.

Then Brandie remembered a snippet of her pillow talk with Clarisse after they’d watched their backstage recording video. The old saw about nobody knowing a woman’s body like another woman was a hoary and rather sexist cliche. But it worked surprisingly often for getting a bi-curious babe into the sack.

If Valencia believed it....

She slid her fingers along Valencia’s pussy lips, and carefully maneuvered them just clear of her clit. For a long few seconds, she twiddled the other woman’s bush. As she moved her hand back down toward her snatch, she let one finger graze her clit hood, just enough to remind her of the attention she could be getting if only her partner were doing it right.

Brandie chuckled to herself as she pictured telling Pierre about this over dinner tomorrow night. She was pretty sure that he’d be amused rather than offended. Maybe she’d better date him a few more times first, just to be sure.

Valencia’s body quivered. Brandie dialed back her attentions, moving her fingertips back up her body to play with her pubic hair again.

Over the background hoots and hollers, somebody in the crowd yelled, “Make her cum!” Sorry, not yet. Ruefully, it occurred to her that, after this, she would be in absolutely no position to complain about Clarisse’s teasing tactics.

“More...” she heard Valencia whisper. So did the crowd via the studio speakers; some of them took up the cry. She ignored them. If this worked, they’d soon have the chance to see a lot more if they paid for the privilege.

Fifteen seconds left. She spent a few of those seconds tickling Valencia’s pubes, and the rest stroking the outside of her pussy lips. Just once, she brushed her clit with a fingertip for a split second, and suppressed a grin at her frustrated moan.

Finally, the chime sounded, and she stepped away. The host thoroughly belabored the fact that the outcome of the game depending on Valencia’s answer, and then activated the earpiece switch to ask for it.

“That was Pierre.” She showed no doubt or hesitation.

The crowd’s cheers were mixed with chants of “BRAN-DIE!” as the final score appeared on the board. It no longer mattered whether Valencia heard it; the game was over and its outcome was determined.

As the yells finally died down, Lucia and Selena untied Valencia, prompted her to sit up, and removed her mask and earpieces. She stared wide-eyed at the scoreboard.

“I’m afraid you won’t be advancing to the next round, Valencia. Instead, Brandie will escort you backstage for extensive familiarization with the feminine touch.”

Valencia looked at Brandie. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking, but Brandie saw a mix of nervousness and excitement.

Brandie looked her in the eye for a long moment, then turned to the host. “May we borrow the massage table? And the other stuff that came with it?”

A low but intense cry of “OOOOOH!” rose from the audience. The host grinned beatifically and replied, “I don’t see why not; it’s not being used again today. Just make sure you have it back in the morning for the cleaning crew.”

“Thank you.” She strode over to the massage table, and held out a hand toward Lucia. For the first time Brandie could recall, she seemed unsure of what she was supposed to be doing. Then she did a double-take and handed Brandie the mask. With Selena’s assistance at re-adjusting and buckling the straps, it was fastened back into place.

With a gentle but firm press to Valencia’s breastbone, Brandie made her lie back on the table. Selena picked up the tie lines, and then it was her turn to be uncertain. Brandie was also confused for a moment, until she realized that Selena was unsure whether to fasten them or whether Brandie wanted to do it herself. “Go ahead,” she said, and Lucia and Selena quickly attended to the job. Then, they bent down to unlock the table’s wheels, drawing another set of whistles for the resulting butt-flash.

Brandie turned to the crowd and slowly, sensuously, licked her lips. As the shouts of excitement slowly died down, she wheeled her prize backstage.