The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

He’d been going into the office very early. Part of that was his son’s punishing wakeup schedule, which began with a low whine around 5:15 a.m. The household had no choice but to reluctantly spin into gear: feedings, changes, showers, blowjob, clothes, and then off to work.

But that wasn’t really all.

“Creme brulee french toast,” Caitlin announced. She’d been dressed almost continuously in sweats and tights, along with college sweaters with fading print on the front. These days she kept her hair tied back in a ponytail. Nathan had tinkered some more with her interest in makeup, very slightly, but lipstick and nails on what was essentially a very sleep-deprived Mom didn’t work.

She’d made breakfast the previous night, a cream marinade on expensive challah. Their kid spent a lot of time with her at the very expensive supermarket, to the point where the store workers had gotten him a little green apron. He ate the very best in baby food, often recipes meticulously prepared and then blended to puree by his mother.

“You think he wants some?” Nathan said, pausing with his fork.

“Booger, you want french toast?” Caitlin said. The kid rocked his head back and forth: sure. “There’s a dozen eggs in that bite,” Nathan said, watching her inch over a small square. He had ulterior motives. Caitlin was officially too big for him. She had gone from a curvy college student with heavy lips, to a plush wife, to a fat mom. He’d shied away from the truth of it, but it was true. Running his hands along her curves had lost its thrill.

The kid loved creme brulee french toast.

Caitlin slid over her phone, already keyed up with Peppa Pig, and gave him a glance. The parents exited two doors away and locked the bedroom. They had as long as the phone battery held out. That, at least, was a physical relief. “I blew you at 7:12 yesterday,” his wife said, settling onto her knees. She still pushed her hair back, a full year after ponytailing made it unnecessary. Nathan checked the clock—7:10.

“What’re you two up to today?” he said, instead of responding.

Caitlin didn’t bother to answer, settling in front of him. Of course she still had every trick, and they made a big difference. Once she’d blown him while barely touching him at all, blowing hot wind onto his dick, then using just the very tip of her tongue while she held him in her mouth. He remembered the actual date she did that one. Today she started to suck, then very, very slowly took him all the way into her mouth. It never failed to make him feel like he had a dick a mile long. Her lips wrapped around tight, and she very slowly looked him the eyes, and then back down again.

Her tongue rippled.

Nathan came. For the thousandth time it soaked her mouth, her eyes lost any sort of cohesion, and her entire body sagged in a wet sigh of whole relaxation. Her tits were truly enormous these days, but mostly all Nathan could see was: there was a lot of her on the carpet. He snapped her.

“I’m….” she tried to answer him, head against the bedside. Powering through the usual euphoria. “Imma… take the… the kid…” He zipped and did his belt. Boneless, Caitlin swung herself up to the bed. “You.. you know you can fuck me,” she said, spreading her legs. “I know you got more. You’re… you’re very special.”

It was 7:20. “I gotta get going,” he told her. He closed her legs for her, before heading out.

Another blowjob waited for him at the office. But then, a lot of things awaited him at the office.

He had a team of his own.

Handpicked and specially trained. They were intensely motivated, young, eager, often beating him to the office. They practically had their own campus, a spread of suites in a dingy outbuilding on the main campus. The carpet was a loud orange and the walls were all pocked particle board, but it was his own petty kingdom.

“Good morning!” his admin said. He liked her in pencil skirts and too-tight work blouses. Dark black tights—any kind of tights would do.

Louise was in her late 30s and had stuttered throughout her entire interview. A medical stutter, where her cheeks turned mottled pink on her own choked breath. She was diffident, shy, kept her eyes on the desk. She had big natural tits. Nathan had been absolutely thrilled to get her.

In part his group was the client service group for the Seattle Client. But with all of Seattle’s decisionmakers having long drunk warm Nathan fuzzies, he finally had little to do there.

Really the team was more of a lab. His lab. Finally, his lab.

Louise locked the door behind her. She strode between his legs with complete self-assurance. She hadn’t stuttered in months. Without the chopped gasp she had a natural purr, especially around her sexy boss. He’d turned himself, in her mind, into her treadmill.

All the things she wanted to improve about herself started with self-assurance, and self-assurance started with having the utter gall to blow the married boss with the huge wonderful cock.

She’d lost twenty pounds, thrown out her old, dowdy clothes, and, two months in, had asked him if there was ‘anything else she could help with” with barely a quaver in her voice. Louise was currently working on a night degree to get her B.A., and was also watching a lot of videos on becoming a better cocksucker.

“Quick or slow, sir?” Louise asked, kneeled with her legs close together. She’d teased out her blouse to act as a portrait, so he could stare at her boobs while she worked. He was undecided about having her get a boob job. Was that self-improvement? Could go either way.

“Slow,” Nathan ordered. Although her technique wasn’t perfect, she’d figured out some tricks all her own. Not long ago she’d noticed Caitlin’s lipstick along the base of his cock. The next day she’d shown up with the exact same shade on. Nathan knew for a fact that Caitlin wore an obscure brand from back in their coastal days, sent inland by a regional store. Louise’s head bobbed away. Even her hair had come a long way, now glossy and coiffed. “Peter piper picked a pack of pickled peppers,” he said.

“Mmm mmmm mmmmm mmm mmmmmm,” Louise said, her tongue vibrating as she did the best she could with a big dick in her mouth. But she really could say it, these days. That was enough for him—Nathan came in her mouth. She’d set herself a goal of swallowing every single drop, and she’d gotten very good at it.

She’d brought a crisply printed agenda for the morning team meeting. As proud as Nathan was of what he’d managed with Louise, who was respectfully still in her post-cum trance, the team was the real goal. He remembered to zip up right before walking into the conference room.

“About time,” Colin said. He wore a cotton-linen dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. It was traditional to make some smart remark about Nathan obviously getting his balls drained pre-meeting.

“It’s 8:02,” Alisha said, pointedly, to Louise. His admin gave a sweet little shrug and handed out agendas. “Meeting starts at 8:00.”

“Seattle cancelled the 9 a.m.,” Carrie said, a heel dangling off her foot.

“Why?” Nathan said. He didn’t have a lot of contact with Seattle, anymore. He had a team for that.

The three of them exchanged looks, then settled on shrugs. “Is that a business lollipop?” Colin said, to Carrie. She favored him with a wink, and let her heel drop off her foot. She wore a lime green lace dress that really needed a jacket, a scarf, and a lot more fabric to be halfway business appropriate. She’d angled her dress to let Colin see all the way up her legs. On her last trip to Seattle she’d gotten herself a jade necklace, and it had become a kind of signature. She had acquired a deep tan from somewhere in Iowa. Colin fucked her with his eyes.

Nathan was really proud of both of them.

He’d hired both just out of college, two gangly and nervous seniors with resumes barely a page long. Colin in particular had given Nathan immense and powerful deja vu vibes. Himself at 21: adrift and poorly educated, body starting to show the rot of a beer diet. Now he’d put on twenty-five pounds of rock-solid muscle and had a fierce brown beard. It looked like he’d bitten the fur off a bear. He’d learned Italian. He had a handshake that could ruin. According to Carrie he had simply flipped her over one night and started to fuck her butt. It hadn’t even occurred to her, she had told Nathan, to stop him. It just seemed like what guys like Colin did.

Carrie had started singing lessons and had put up her new covers on spotify. Her makeup tutorials on youtube were semi-viral. She was essentially unrecognizable as the frizzy-haired applicant with 4H Club in three different parts of her resume—activities, work experience, college experience. She’d kept the glasses and dumped the rest at Goodwill. During the big trip to Seattle she had offered up her ass to Nathan unbidden, which is when the conversation about Colin’s buttfucking had come up.

That had not been the initial plan.

As initially set up, the idea had been that Carrie and Alisha would compete for his attention. A friendly competition to motivate, with the winner getting access between his legs. Colin was there to soothe the loser. And then: who could say what the team could accomplish? Could Colin learn a foreign language in two months? [Yes]. Could Carrie drop her hated cornfed Wisconsin accent? [Yes]. That had been the setup.

It hadn’t survived contact with the final and best team member. Alisa.

Alisa had skipped her interview, explaining over the phone, in tears, that she had frequent debilitating panic attacks. Nathan had hired her immediately. “I think I can help with that,” he’d told her.

She rapped her nails on the table to bring the meeting back to order. Alisa wore a periwinkle blue dress made out of cotton and spandex, cut low up top and high at the bottom. Her heels were tooth white and never shorter than four inches. Her hair was blocky braided. “I talked to engineering about Seattle’s issues with the latest shipment,” Alisa said. She took a long pull of her water bottle.

Engineering considered itself the real soul of the business. It was an entire hangar full of bearded white men with PhDs in aeronautical subjects. Many were experienced pilots. Alisa was twenty-three, black, and female. “They agreed to send hourly updates, to me, until the issue is fixed,” she said. “I said they could stop work overnight if they got too tired.”

“Nice work,” Nathan said, sincerely. Engineering treated him as a problem they couldn’t solve—how had he brought in so much business when he couldn’t describe the basics of powered flight? Alisa gave him a warm, pleased smile. Carrie did too. Pleasing the boss gave everyone a warm, happy glow. “That was… all of the agenda.”

“Can we talk?” Alisa said, in front of everyone. Carrie and Colin exchanged a look, equal parts “here we go” and “now we can sneak off and fuck”. The truth was, Carrie was a good little ass slut, but Alisa was the standout. She was learning Japanese. Her command of aviation science was superb. She explained things about composite materials to the higher-ups. And all it took was a little reward from his dick, and some gentle nudges.

She was on him once the door closed. Alisa was the only other woman he’d ever kissed. It still felt shocking, transgressive, guilt-inducing. Her braids swung back and forth. He picked her up by the ass and put her on the desk.

“Oh, I need this,” Alisa said, as he pulled his dick out. This would be his third go since the morning, and he was still rock hard. Nathan had ceased to be surprised by his own stamina. It was freeing, actually, to regard himself as different. She eased apart her legs.

“Even Carrie wears underpants to work,” Nathan told her. He teased the tip of his cock at her pussy lips. She first tried to buck her hips forward, only to realize that would make her fall off his desk. She solved the problem by pulling him forward by his shirt.

“I didn’t wear them to engineering, either,” Alisa said.

“You teased all those men? Pull a bendover routine?” Nathan said, sinking inside of her.

“No, they got teased when a girl walked into their man vault,” Alisa said.

He ground into her. All four of his employees were experiments, thematic commands with pleasurable rewards. Louise was about self-confidence. Carrie and Colin, self-control. But for Alisa, he’d just given her drive. Fucking him energized her. Not fucking him innervated her. He was her battery. “Unhhh,” she said, banging back and forth. He rarely had her blow him. A girl like Alisa deserved a nice hard fuck. Without warning she slipped backwards, then smoothly got on all fours on the ground. The vinyl tiling in his office was original to the building, and she had to grip hard. Her ass pointed upwards.

“Hurry,” Alisa said, impatient, like it was his fault. He grabbed her by the waist but took his time gliding in. The cheap lighting emphasized how glistening his dick was. It was a nice image. Once bottomed-out Alisa started to take over, overcoming poor grip and a naturally passive position to milk his cock. At a certain point, whenever he fucked her, Alisa took over. He pictured her as a dynamo, starting to spin, running off his ignition. He squeezed both hips, affectionate. He hadn’t ordered anything re: pussy hair, and to his surprise she’d kept it. It was a very dense bush and always heavy and wet by the time they were through.

“God damn,” he finally said, releasing. She gave just the briefest look backwards, almost businesslike in squeezing every drop out of his dick, and then let herself loose. When Alisa came it was impossibly loud. He’d had to go through it with his other employees, just to bolster their tranquililty against Alisa’s regular orgasmic screaming. She fell full flat against the floor, still in her dress, squirming and spasming.

Nathan stepped back, admiring. He’d done this. It was the best he’d felt about having roofie cum since he was nineteen. He was unlocking potential, righting flaws. Alisa would probably go off and master the rubik’s cube that day. She picked herself off the floor, caught his admiring look, and blushed. She adjusted her dress back to modesty by lowering it six inches. He knew he’d dumped what was, if not a full load after a busy morning, a lot of cum. Not a bit trickled out of her.

“Well,” she breathed. Usually she strode out to seize the day. This time she gave him her most nervous smile in months. “This is gonna be weird. I had to do that to do this.”

Another deep breath. “I got another job,” she whispered.

She really had sucked his energy away.

Nathan felt an overpowering need to sit, but his knees were frozen up, at the same time. “Job,” was all he could manage.

“Director of Sales for Gannett. In Idaho,” she sat on his desk. Had they really just fucked? Had he really just stood there, with a warm glow in his belly, admiring his works?

“You—” he forced his mind to work. “See what happens when you actually get to the interview?” It came out sour. Of course he could drug her. No. That was—he couldn’t.

She absorbed his disappointment quietly. He’d never bound her to him, not like Caitlin. He was her fuel. Actually, thinking back, he’d never said “Nathan”. He’d said “your Boss”. Alternative formulations swirled around his head. But too late.

“I’m happy for you,” he managed. He’d forced himself to read Frankenstein, early into this experiment. There really wasn’t a lot of applicable literature. “You’re gonna slay them. Idaho has no idea.”

Alisa sensed that that was all she would get. He’d have to deprogram her. No, he’d have to think about it. But not now. She went in for a hug, of all things. She still smelled like his spunk. She clearly craved his approval, his assent. How could she ask that? He was just twenty-eight. “I know its sudden, but with Seattle closing on us, I think I just felt like—it wasn’t me leaving. It was me beating the rush.”

He broke the hug. His blood had just gotten moving again, and now it slowed to a crawl. “What about Seattle?” he said, looking her right in the eyes. “What about closing on us?”

“Nathan?” Louise barely cracked the door.

He’d told her not to let anyone in under any circumstances whatsoever, leaning over her desk while saying it. And delivered that order with a hollowed-out expression. Nonetheless it hadn’t worked.

“What?” Nathan said.

“Your wife and your-r-r…” there it was, a stutter. Louise put her hand up to her mouth, like she’d chewed on a cricket. She fought through it. “Son. Your kid. They’re here to see you.”

“Oh my god,” Nathan said. He gave the office a once-over. The walls were probably rotted with mildew underneath the paneling. The big whiteboard had Seattle sales projections all over it, all of which mocked him. And of course he nutted in parts of the room usually about two-three times a day. “I mean, alright. Lets see them.”

His wife wobbled in. She wore a tightly-zipped maroon hoodie and a pair of jogging tights that went up to mid-calf. His son was very wide-eyed at all the people. He liked to walk around and hit things with a small orange plastic hammer that was his best friend.

Caitlin was in a good mood. “Surprise!” she said. “We brought burritos!”

“Hey,” Nathan said.

“Your kid helped, which is why he has green avocado hands,” she took stock of the office. “This is it, huh?”

“For now.”

“Yeah. I kind of wanted to come just to see the architecture. You should’ve just let them demo this place, its like walking into 1963. I bet that tile is asbestos.”

“Not going to be a problem,” Nathan said.

Caitlin wrinkled her nose and looked at her husband, instead of his office. She took a seat on the office chair, itself an orange and shaggy remnant from fifty years ago. It squeaked underneath her. “What’s wrong?” she said.

Nathan put both hands flat on the desk. “Seattle is buying the company.” He’d put in two belated phone calls. Everyone acted like of course he’d known. Their good friend Nathan, someone had to have filled him in—just an assumption that someone else would’ve given him a head’s up. And this was partly his fault, he hadn’t made a call to Seattle in two weeks. He’d been writing out cum commands in Word, looking up conditions in the DSM-V, wondering if he held the answers between his legs.

Caitlin was smarter than he was, and worked through the implications in the time it took the kid to struggle out of the stroller, amble across the room, and hammer on the cheap steel desk. It was very loud. “They buy all their components from you guys,” she said.

“That they do.” All his doing. He’d rearranged their entire supply network, funneling it through Iowa, on the basis of doctored water bottles.

“Someone realized they should just buy you and eliminate the markup,” Caitlin said.

“That’s right.”

“Sales is markup,” Caitlin said.

“We are,” Nathan agreed.

Caitlin crossed her legs. The two of them watched their kid experimenting with what he could hit. Chair, desk, papers, floor, radiator, internet cabling.

He’d spent the past three hours, besides making phone calls, working on his command .docs. It was all going to have to go. He couldn’t let them spin loose, still yearning in the back of their heads for more juice. It was done, it was over. He had to just erase every last command.

“I can probably get us a sales job with them,” Nathan said, tapping his pen on the desk. The kid swung his hammer to the same rhythm.

“In Seattle.”

“But I don’t want to,” Nathan said. “Maybe. We have a house. Stuff. An entire kid.” He looked away. “I’d like to hold on to that.” Would Louise just suddenly get a stutter again? It wasn’t like Alisa was going to forget everything she’d learned. He hadn’t made anyone superhuman. Carrie could still sing beautifully, Colin could keep lifting weights.

“Hold on.” Caitlin stood up and went to the door, cracking it just like Louise had. “Louise? Can you take the kid for a walk? Find him some glass to break, he loves that.”

Louise was thrilled to take Nathan’s progeny for a walk outside, to find something to marvel at.

“I think I have that same shade of lipstick,” Carrie said, watching her go. She shot a glance at Nathan. “Should I get some pencil skirts?”

“I’m firing her in two weeks, probably,” Nathan said. “Or someone else is.” He hadn’t moved from behind his desk. “I really thought… I was building something.”

“Capitalism can suck,” Caitlin said. “Hey. Come here.”

“Caitlin—” he looked up. She had her arms out wide. Oh, a hug. Nathan slowly stood up, shuffled over to her side of the desk, and stood in the hug. He squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t deserve this hug. Sooner or later he’d fuck up the Caitlin situation, too.

He pulled her tight, hard. Messing about with blowjobs and employees while she patiently waited at home. Shitty. Nathan opened his mouth to say something and stopped. Where to even start?

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off?” Caitlin said. “We really did make burritos.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Nathan said. He swallowed past a ball of snot so thick it was hard to force back down.