The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

SUNDAY:

When Rudy woke up, he was hard as a rock. Often times he’d wake up with a hard-on—except now he had a remedy: In no time, he was on the 12th floor, his morning-hardness stuffed in Alicia’s mouth. A man could get used to this: The best of sex, any time he wanted, any way he wanted, whether Alicia liked it or not.

Rudy left quickly, once he got his rocks off—he was headed for a family brunch and needed to spend some obligatory time with the parents. He’d have to keep his hands off the slave until the evening, which was fine: The sense of adventure kind of wore off once Alicia swallowed her daily fix of cumm from Rudy.

Rudy tried to get Alicia out of his mind as the Goldberg family was seated at the restaurant. He’d missed his parents but the chatter at the table could be an absolute bore.

“How was your day yesterday?” his Mom inquired.

“Okay”.

“You should say hi to the neighbors you haven’t seen in a while” his mother complained.

“You mean all the 70 year olds in the building?” he mocked despite his mom’s disapproving looks.

“There are plenty of young people in this building... You know, the Catalunas’ daughter is married now.”

Rudy almost choked on his food.

“You should visit her to congratulate. You know Alicia, right?".

Rudy wondered briefly whether his Mom was playing a mind-game. “You mean the one whose brains I fucked out just last night?” he wanted to ask but wisely refrained.

His father chimed in with his point of view: “Frankly, I feel for that Dewey kid. Their parents spoiled those girls beyond redemption.”

“Well, Dad, you always say nothing is beyond redemption...”

“I guess”.

His mother started raising some objections about how, in fact, both Alicia and Lara were lovely young ladies. Knowing an endless family discussion when he saw one, Rudy quickly concentrated on his food.

George had taken a seat in his usual post by the time Rudy came back.

“How you doin’ George?” he greeted his old pal.

“Still trying to recover from yesterday” the doorman answered matter-of-factly. “Listen, what the hell was that all about Rudy? I mean, what the heck is going on with you and Alicia?”

“Look, don’t worry about it. She likes it. No: She needs it! Underneath that arrogant ice-queen is a whore who craves to be used.”

“She didn’t seem to like it all that much yesterday”.

“She didn’t like the fact that she was sucking you, and not Brad Pitt, Ok? But whores don’t get to choose, do they?”

“Guess not...”

“Look, you just keep mum about it, and I’ll make sure little Mrs. Dewey keeps you happy”.

Again, the doorman couldn’t argue with that.

So George continued watching his mini-TV as Rudy got on the elevator. It was no more than a half-hour before he received a call from the Dewey apartment. It was Rudy: “A female friend of mine will be coming soon, you can let her in, right?”

“Sure” he said, wondering what the boy was up to now. He briefly tried to re-live the feeling of Alicia sucking his cock—that was heaven!

It had been another hour when Rudy’s “friend” showed up.

A tall, red-haired woman dressed in a tight, leather pants and a black blouse walked into the building, confidently clicking on her menacing six-inch heels, and carrying a large bag with her. She was in her forties, even though her slender body was that of a younger woman. Her confidence reminded George none other than a certain young woman who resided on the 12th floor—except this lady’s self-assured smile conveyed more cunning than contempt.

“I’m here to meet Rudy Goldberg” she said, in a way that hinted that the doorman was expected to understand.

“Sure...” George stumbled a bit. “Just take the elevator to the 12th floor.”

It was another hour before he got another call from the 12th floor. It was Rudy:

“George!!” he was almost screaming into the phone, obviously intoxicated. “Come on up here, body!”

George pretended to weigh his options only briefly, mumbling something about how he must watch the door. Yet soon enough he was in the elevator, pushing the button for the 12th floor.

When George was allowed inside the large flat overlooking the Central Park, the shrine of young Mr. And Mrs. Dewey, the hallway of which was the most he’d seen before, what caught his attention was not the expensive paintings or the Persian rugs. He’d grown used to displays of wealth in these condominiums over the years, even though there were a few residents who were more reserved, like the Goldbergs. What he found atypical was the sight of the lady of the house—all of 25 years old—bound and hanging from the ceiling, sweating and dangling in the air, under the torment of a full-blown dominatrix, right in the middle of the livingroom.

Once again, George had difficulty comprehending reality. As he walked towards the spectacle, with Rudy’s invitation, the bound woman’s shame became visible. She was trembling and trying to avert his looks by looking down, though she would have had more success if she looked upwards, elevated as she was.

“Come on in” Rudy chimed in as if the doorman had caught a movie in the middle. “Take a seat, George”.

He took a seat near Rudy, in a puffy leather chair that looked like Mr. Dewey’s favorite. He could hardly believe his eyes: There she was, the almighty Alicia, the gorgeous, fantastic Alicia, completely naked before him, completely uncovered and unprotected from his gaze. And her shame, how delicious was her shame.

Judging from the various paddles, crops and such on the coffee table, the flame-haired dominatrix had come prepared. She’d transferred her outfit into a shiny-black dominatrix costume that made her look like a particularly menacing version of Catwoman. She slowly circled around Alicia, flashing a knowing smile to the boys. She then grabbed a new device, a bamboo cane, to use on her hapless prey.

Regrettably for Monique, the client’s orders were specific—no damage, nothing painful in the extreme. So she punished Alicia with prudence, drawing the most amusing shrieks and wails out of the snobby slut. No matter how stinging her strokes were, they were much too light compared to what Monique would have done for a less merciful Master. Yet, for all her self-confidence, Alicia had turned out to be a real wimp when it comes to pain. She wept and moaned like a little girl, sufficiently muffled by her gag to avoid alarming the neighbors, not to mention Rudy’s own parents two floors down, yet loud enough for Monique and the men to enjoy. With each whimper Monique drew from the snotty young woman, she could feel the power rushing through her pussy—she couldn’t wait to get Alicia’s pretty face between her thighs, lapping at her pussy like a trained puppy—a perk she’d been promised as part of her services.

When Monique decided George was sufficiently provoked, she released Alicia from her bonds.

“Now, little lady” she issued her orders, “you will fuck big Georgey here, a real sensuous, nice fuck you will give him!”

Despite her dread, a beaten Alicia stumbled towards the man whose face reflected a silent mixture of glee and gratitude. He didn’t say anything but it was obvious Georgey was waiting anxiously.

Following Monique’s instructions—who was following none other than Rudy’s instructions—Alicia unzipped the middle-aged doorman. She slowly lowered herself onto the doorman’s lap, until his engorged cock was completely buried inside her. She sat on his cock, her legs dangling from the sides of the leather chair, her face facing his.

George was amazed at this turn of events: He remembered the gorgeous naked woman on his lap as a snotty little girl from years ago—who could have guessed she’d be fucking and sucking him, as a snotty grown woman!

With a swoosh in the air, the cane contacted Alicia’s ass. That was her cue to start fucking the doorman. The cane had a very persuading effect. Obediently, she began rhythmically moving up and down on his cock.

“Kiss Georgey” Monique said. “Sweet and sexy”. The young woman, swallowing, brought her mouth to George’s and kissed him slowly, panting into his mouth, parting her lips for his tongue. Her hands instinctively caressed the man’s hair.

“Don’t stop fucking” Monique lamented impatiently, striking the blonde again. She started striking regularly, making sure Alicia bucked with the wobbly urgency of fish on a hook. She slammed her body up and down against George’s torso, kissing him, moaning into his mouth, squirming and writhing.

Her bouncing breasts felt heavy on George’s hands, two perfect mounds of soft flesh. With each blow from the cane, she jerked, bouncing and jamming her flawless body into George’s, multiplying his pleasure tenfold, until he could take no more: The doorman exploded in the single greatest moment of sexual pleasure in his life.

By the time Alicia lifted her sweaty body off the man who had been, until recently, no more than her servant, Monique had taken a seat. Rudy had been watching with silent amusement, and the apparent empowerment of a good-samaritan, smoking another one of James’s cubans.

Monique now ordered “crawl to me” with the emphasis of an air-swoosh.

Alicia crawled in dread, not knowing what the evil bitch had in store for her next. She realized Monique had opened the strategic flap at the front of her leather pants. The immediate revolt became apparent on her face.

“Now slut, you will eat pussy” Monique informed her subject. “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll put your very best effort into it!”

“I am not a lesbian” Alicia said meekly in a rare display of protest. She was rewarded with a slap on the face. “You are whatever your Master says you are” Monique spoke angrily. “If he says you’re a lesbian, then you have become one”. Monique leaned back and parted her legs: “Now, better get that tongue flicking slut, or I’m going to peel your skin right off with this cane”.

Alicia closed her eyes, and leaned forth, resigned to her fate. Her tongue darted out and found another woman’s vagina, in an act of sick perversion. She began licking, trying to ignore what she was doing.

Her face was buried in the dominatrix’s crotch, her head squeezed between her milky thighs. She had grabbed her blonde hair in a fist, using it like a lever to control Alicia’s pace. Every time Alicia’s tongue tired, Monique gave her hair a violent tug, demanding, and getting, faster service.

Monique was moaning with a high-pitch now. Almost equal to the pleasure of a desperately flicking tongue in her pussy was the rush she got from the power to do menace. Nothing made it more fun than knowing that the pristine slut eating her pussy hated it so.

Her free hand had opened up the top of her leather suit, playing with her tits. She flicked her tongue at the men, swirling around her lips, turning them on. They were watching in silent awe, mesmerized with the lesbian spectacle before them.

And sure enough, by the time Monique exploded in a roaring orgasm, the boys were hard all over again...

THE WEEK:

As a trader analyst, Rudy’s days started at 7 AM. That meant Rudy showed up at Alicia’s door every morning bright and early, with what had become a habitual hard-on. There was nothing like kicking off the day with a blow-job. It cleared his mind, focused his attention, gave him an aloof, confident feeling. Nothing made a man feel more powerful than the sight of a beautiful woman on her knees, duly sucking his cock. And Alicia had really learned how to pamper a cock.

The young woman was required to be in full make-up and one of her new Victoria’s Secret products by 6 AM, ready for Rudy’s blow-job. Normally much too pampered to be awake at so early an hour, Alicia was sharp on duty now. Her usual breakfast of mango crepes and imported white-chocolate coffee was replaced with a load of cumm. She did, however, continue with her morning work-outs as religiously as ever—except now, instead of sweating at their extravagant health-club, she jogged at the Central Park. Her neon-blue body suit had been a good way to taunt those less fit than her in the privacy of the exclusive club. Circling the northern end of the Central park, it only made sure she got the most attention possible, not in the least from the winos and gangs that infested the area. That gave her the motivation to run a very fast lap indeed. She usually made it back to the apartment safe and unscathed, except having suffered a barrage of catcalls and whistles, and long stares from the busy folk heading for work.

The doorman showed up for his treat around lunch-time, and Alicia obliged despite the humiliation—it wasn’t a matter of choice. She spent a sizable portion of her days practicing Britney Spears’s moves. That was Rudy’s orders. She had bought a whole stack of concert DVDs. She felt incredibly stupid practicing all day the whorish dance moves of the dumbest, blondest teen on Earth. She felt ridiculous. She felt like a teen tart.

Being a trader intern, Rudy got out of work early. He directly went to Alicia’s to use her as a target for all the pent-up tension and stress of a day spent on the trading floor. Alicia was sure to spend a couple of hours sucking and fucking each evening, only to be freed when Rudy had to go downstairs and give his parents some face time. As great as the desire to disobey was, her submission was like a chain she couldn’t break. If she ever disobeyed, she knew horrible things would happen, things far worse than the humiliations she had to go through—just what she couldn’t remember, but she knew just the same...

She gave a full report of her daily chores to Rudy, so that he’d know she’d been good even if he weren’t there to supervise. One such trip had been to the Mustang Ranch, where Alicia regularly went riding. Near New Haven, the Mustang Ranch was where the rich went to get away from the rough-and-tumble of Manhattan. The wives were beautiful and rode horses. The men smoked cigars and drank hard liquor.

Alicia usually rode alone in the obstacle course, sporting an extra tight equestrian outfit.. She loved being the center of attention, and even though she was among the best riders, she knew the men only pretended to be interested in her riding while they watched her ass. No doubt they all had major boners, imagining her bouncing on their cocks. Most eyes, males’ at any rate, would be trained at her perfect ass jumping up and down on the saddle, or her full chest hopping with each leap. Knowing her “attitude” problem though, as it was delicately put, few could imagine being in the shoes of James Dewey, who had to endure the world-class bitchiness of Alicia. Little did they know, the arrogant beauty had turned into an obedient little playtoy these days.

Alicia’s trip had involved a special treat for Fortune, her black stallion. Before she went on riding as usual, the blonde gave the beast a long, sweet hand-job, until she was rewarded with a load of spunk in her hands. Despite her disgust, from now on Alicia would be required to do this for Fortune every time she went riding with the horse. And Fortune loved it. He ran the course in absolute perfection. What worked for Wall Street traders, worked for beasts.

In addition to checking off yet another item from Alicia’s list of undesirables, her trip to Mustang Ranch had another benefit: She brought Rudy the very crop she used on Fortune. Rudy had explained she now had a much better way of encouraging the young stallion. Meanwhile, the crop was just as persuasive on the young animal Rudy kept at home. Even though she could be once in a great while reluctant at a particularly degrading act, Alicia was fast growing into a perfection of obedience. However, this didn’t prevent the young woman from punishment for the rare case of a disobedience, however invented it may be, with the ultimate indignity of being spanked by the crop she used to use in punishing her own animal.