The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

A week later, Rudy was seated in the comfy leather chair. Alicia was standing behind him, massaging his shoulders while Lara was on knees, giving him his mid-morning blow-job. The younger girl still seemed to be humiliated at having to do this while her big sister watched standing behind Rudy.

Rudy was hell-bent on being a fair Master:

“Lara, did you know your big sis was too much of a prude to orally pleasure anyone before I convinced her otherwise?". Lara knew Alicia was always too proud, too self-assured to suck off any boy. She’d always wondered if she did it at least for James. Was Lara glad now that Alicia couldn’t look down upon the little sister for pandering shamelessly to the boys?

“But, boy, is she a fast learner! You can suck like a vacuum now, can’t you big sis?”

“Yes, Master” the young wife replied in disgrace, continuing to massage him.

“Not just that; you can dance like a total tease, too! Slave, go get into your Britney costume...”

The two girls usually wore the same exact clothes. A short trip to Dream Dresser had ensured that both girls had a large, identical collection of highly provocative outfits. They now wore the same exact outfit as each other always. That’s how Rudy liked it: This way, neither had any character, just a couple of harem-girls ready to serve in a moment’s notice.

Alicia came back in her frilly catholic school-girl uniform. In a few minutes, the music stared blasting in the room:

“Oops! I did it again!!...”

Rudy watched with great satisfaction the young wife who was dancing to the tune of Britney Spears’ song, with the same exact moves, just as she’d practiced endlessly..

Lara couldn’t watch, since all she could see was the thick bottom of Rudy’s cock and his crotch. She was being tested to see whether she could make it last as long as her sister had been trained to—which meant the sweating Alicia could go through another four, five Britney songs easy before Rudy would reach satisfaction.

She was halfway through the album when Rudy finally flooded Lara’s mouth.

He checked his watch; time to go. He had a few errands to run. It was close to noon and Georgey would come soon to get his treat anyway—the girls hated it.

Rudy first stopped at a near-by bank branch, where he had paid upfront for a 15-year safety deposit box. Certain things had to be kept in secret. Like a number of pictures he’d taken as well as the two tapes: “Alicia’s confessions” and the home-made version of “Raunchy Sluts”. He’d made the girls watch the tape several times. The way they squirmed was most amusing.

But he’d kept the only copy for himself: He had to guard against the possibility, however remote, that one of his friends who wowed to silence might spill his guts in a drunken fit. As is, it would mean nothing. Guys always had highly implausible stories to tell, especially involving “untouchables” like Alicia and Lara. He himself had claimed to get blow-jobs from the hot girls in his building back in high-school—naturally, nobody had believed a word of it. Ironically, now that the story had become true, he was intent on keeping the evidence top secret.

Rudy was meeting Monique, for lunch. She’d insisted that they meet. He had no idea why. Once he was seated at the table, the part-time dominatrix got to the point at once:

“They are rich; and they are high-society...”

“Who?”

“Stop playing with me. You know who. The sisters you seem to have in your complete control.”

“So?”

“I’m guessing you’re blackmailing them...”

Rudy pondered briefly. It was close enough...

“Is there a point in this? Are you with the FBI now?”

“Don’t get smart with me. Imagine, if you will, this getting around. That you blackmailed them. It would be a mini-scandal, maybe not so mini. And the police would be interested.”

“And whoever would believe this crazy story?”

“Well, for one thing, people hearing about it would do enough harm. Secondly, I have two credit card receipts, charged to their credit cards, indicating large purchases of highly unconventional items. I have surveillance tapes of Dream Dresser, showing you buying things like dildos, handcuffs, whips and what not, together with the girls. How would you explain it? Particularly, to the bigger one’s hubby?”

Rudy pondered this briefly. He had a syringe at home, which could solve this problem at once. Though, before he could reply, two heavy-built men appeared at the table, taking seats without asking. They looked like they could have jumped right out of Goodfellas.

“And” Monique continued, “My clientele includes all kinds of powerful people. They have a way of solving business problems for me...”

One of the men, parted his jacket ever so slightly, enough to give the glimpse of a gun. He was not quite as subtle as Monique.

“What do you want?” Rudy asked, apparently resigned to the situation at hand.

“Simple. I’ve always had girls to play with. But what I really want is a girl who doesn’t wanna play”.

“So...”

“I want Lara. The younger one. No husband, no problem”.

“You can’t just have her. She’s got Law school. Even I’m letting them go soon.”

“She can take a leave of absence. I won’t keep her forever.”

“How long then?”

“3 months. I bore quickly. In all likelihood, I’ll be loaning her to friends and clients by the end of that period—once I have had the pleasure of breaking her into an obedient cunt-licking plaything.”

“And then we’ll be square?”

“My word is my honor, honey...”

Rudy pondered briefly. Lara surely needed a break anyway after that gruesome first year of law school.

“Done!”

Monique smiled evilly: “Well, then, let’s order. Shall we?...”

The Mercedes convertible sped on New Jersey Turn-Pike. With the top opened, the warm summer breeze was flowing into their faces. Rudy had found his favorite Rock station on the radio. Alicia was seated next to him. Lara had just started a three-month stint as a paralegal at a law firm previously unheard of. She’d been necessarily re-conditioned. James would be coming back soon, which meant Alicia would need proper re-conditioning, as well. But now he was taking his pet to the beach. He had not told her the real purpose of this trip, deliberately.

The traffic was not busy, except for the first two lanes reserved for trucks. Truck after truck seemed to be lined up, moving at the speed of a 4th of July parade. As Rudy reduced speed and moved to the lane adjacent to the eighteen-wheelers, he could see some of the truckers were already eyeing the hot blonde next to him. She was quite eye-catching with her long hair flying in the wind and her two firm globes defiantly pressed into the confines of a tiny blouse. He loved to make her dress in the most eye-catching fashion. As she tried to ignore the dirty looks from truckers, it was obvious Alicia wasn’t used to driving next to so many dust-spewing trucks. When Alicia went to beach, she was usually on a plane, heading for an exotic location, not New Jersey.

“You loved it when they gang-banged Lara...” Rudy asked out of the blue.

Alicia didn’t reply.

“You did, didn’t you?".

She was obviously struggling to answer.

“Be honest”.

“Yes, Master”.

“And did you imagine yourself in her place, having your brains fucked by a mob of men?".

“Yiy ye Yess, Master” she said her voice crackling in shame. It had been one of her “confessions”, too—frightening and mesmerizing at the same time.

“Isn’t that blouse too tight for you?” he inquired.

“Yes, Master”.

“Well then, take it off.” Rudy ordered. Alicia’s face grew red immediately. Despite everything he had put her through, the young woman was still every bit susceptible to humiliation—she had enough pride to last a life-time of humiliations. Alas, she wasn’t quite as feisty as she used to be either: Mute, she did as she was told, wisely refraining from any protest.

“Throw it out”.

The little piece of clothing flew out of the vehicle. Alicia was left naked above the waist on the highway. The truckers immediately started honking as the sexy blonde with bared jugs drove past them. Rudy slowed down to a cruising speed to make sure everyone got a good look. He was sure his little slave was driving the poor truckers nuts; most of them must have been on the roads for days. He chuckled at the spectacle of little prim Mrs. Dewey exhibiting her tits to rednecks on wheels on the Jersey Pike. If anyone remotely familiar witnessed this scandalous sight, there would be a small explosion in certain circles back in Manhattan. They had to hope none of Alicia’s high-society friends would drive past them at this very moment.

“Lean out, slave. Shake those titties at the men!!” he instructed.

The drivers kept honking and howling, their weary unshaven faces lit up with lechery. He decided to spice up the show:

“All right, slut, sit back here... Unbutton those jeans. That’s good. Now start playing with yourself. Rub your pussy... Start pinching those tits, you still got one hand free... That’s a good slave.” Rudy waved at the passing eighteen-wheelers one by one, showing off his slave-girl... “Don’t look at the dashboard, look at the truckers. Lick your lips... Smile for crying out loud. Look how much they are loving it. Make sure everyone’s getting a good look...” The drivers were blowing the horns and bawling like mad-men. “Maybe we’ll pull into the nearest truck-stop, and I’ll let them gang-bang you!". Alicia’s eyes lit up in fear like she’d rather be skinned alive. “Damn, what a slut you are...” he mocked.

Alicia examined the tiny bikini with disbelief. It was the most shameless, skimpiest excuse for a bikini she’d ever seen. The material of the bikini was nothing more than a metallic mesh that barely pretended to obstruct view. The top portion of the bikini consisted of two alarmingly inadequate triangles that did more to showcase her firm breasts than offer any pretense of decency. The thong bottom left her perfectly shaped ass completely naked. Alicia—the independent Alicia—wouldn’t be caught dead in a thong, parading around like this. The slave Alicia, however, stepped out and joined Rudy, heading for the sandy beach.

As they made their way to the beach, Alicia could feel the eye tracks all over her body, even the occasional whistles and catcalls. It was a rough crowd. She hated public beaches. This one was particularly low-end. Everywhere she looked she saw ordinary, ugly people; slum-dwellers and dregs, mostly a rabble of rowdy young men definitely from the wrong side of the tracks.

Rudy seemed rather amused with the attention she was getting. Once they were positioned on a pair of towels, Rudy had his slave spread sun lotion on him. Alicia’s own body already had a fine tan—and for the moment a growing concern was the metallic material of her bikini which was heating rapidly in the sun, making it very itchy and uncomfortable. She couldn’t figure out if it was on purpose but the material was tickling her entire body, making her wanna peel the itchy mesh right off.

Rudy watched in amusement as she squirmed in her skin-tight jail for a while.

“What do you think of these people?” inquired Rudy pointing towards a group of men gathered around the ice-cream truck.

“They look like savages, Master.”

“Yeah?".

“Yes, Master”.

Rudy knew it was time for a final attitude adjustment in Alicia, wipe out her superiority complex: He leaned into her ear, and gave her new instructions. He had to repeat himself a couple of times, and use an unusual amount of threatening words to ensure her cooperation. But, she’d mellowed quite a bit since he had first injected her, and besides, the consequences of disobedience was just so terrible...

Alicia got on her feet and started walking towards the ice-cream truck parked at the edge of the beach. The sand was hot, causing her to hop as she walked, putting a marked jiggle into her breasts. She could feel the blatant stares all over her virtually naked body.

She got herself a big scoop of big vanilla ice-cream, and began licking it with obvious ceremony. Her tongue swirled around the white gooey stuff, making an obvious spectacle of it, dripping some of the ice-cream onto her firm tits—the crowd of men hanging nearby apparently loved it, judging from the growing heckling. By the time she finished her ice-cream, she had an attentive audience.

The teenager selling the ice-cream had a boombox placed on the side of the truck. Alicia bent over, sending a dazzling smile to the poor teen, and turned up the volume to the max. She playfully smiled at the herd of men gathering around the van as her body started gyrating instantly. A wave of applause, whistles and cat-calls broke out. She was twisting and shaking, pulling her hair up from behind, sending kisses to the group of men who were growing more and more rowdy. Her dancing was awkward and unrhythmic, but it hardly mattered: She was about to provoke a riot. She was dying in shame, but to the men watching, it seemed she was shamelessly egging them on like a bitch in heat. And then, with immense dread within, she walked over to the back of the truck and pulled the doors wide open, screaming “Gang Bang!!".

The teenager who owned the truck didn’t object—he was the first one to jump in, with others quickly queuing up behind him. Alicia’s excuse for a bikini was quickly ripped off her body. The howlings of the crowd sounded like battle cries. Rudy watched the small uproar from afar, with measured amusement. He believed in sharing good fortune. Little Mrs. Dewey, rather than thumbing her nose at everyone, was about to learn what it feels like to be everyone’s whore.

As cock after cock was shoved into Alicia’s face and slammed into her, Rudy opened a bottle of Sam Adams and pulled down his shades—he had to catch up with his tan. He made a mental note to send Alicia to a whore-doctor for a thorough check-up after today. He imagined her waiting her turn along with a room full of whores. Besides, James was coming back soon.

When Alicia emerged barely covered in a towel a couple hours later, it was almost sun down. Cumm was dripping from every abused orifice on the thoroughly-used body of the young beautiful wife from Manhattan aristocracy. She was in semi-shock, having fucked and sucked an endless army of men. Her face glistened with shiny smears of cumm. There were slight bruises on her creamy body. Stripped of her glory, Alicia Dewey looked like a mess; a sex-doll used up to the limit rather than a glamorous shot on the high-society pages. She had been taken in every way imaginable, and without break. They’d stopped only after she was too beaten and semen-soaked to be appealing.

It had been a few days since George had seen Rudy take Alicia to the beach.

He was sitting in the mail-room, trying to sneak a peek into a resident’s subscription of Penthouse—an apt perk for a doorman—when Alicia walked in. She always showed up around noon for his treat. At first he’d enjoyed humiliating Alicia, who had always been such a pain in the ass. Now he was in it for the pleasure, just the remarkable pleasure—yet the young woman remained humiliated every time she had to service him.

Today, though, she had a particular radiance to her. “Hello, Georgey” she said in a pleasant, pandering voice. It seemed a lot of thought had gone into her make-up and clothing. She laid her hands on the man’s knees, pushing his legs apart gently. She then kneeled on the floor in front of George.

“Georgey” she said almost nervously, “Rudy told me that if I be a good girl and do this for you every day, you’ll agree to keep silent about everything”. James was due back soon.

“Yes”.

“Oh, I’ll be a good girl from now on” she said, leaving George somewhat puzzled about whether she really meant it or was being forced to.

Alicia had unzipped him and was sucking his cock diligently in the next moment. She looked up at the doorman occasionally, making sure he was pleased with her performance. And she’d make it last a good fifteen minutes before George ejaculated. George had to remain silent. From now on, she promised to herself, an incredible amount of preparation and effort would go into Georgey’s daily blow-job...

Rudy had cut off his visits to Alicia on the day James came back, removing all his previous instructions, except for a few new ones: She was to secretly continue giving George one blow-job a day. She was to treat Rudy as her Master whenever he referred to her as “my slave”—Rudy was going back to school but Princeton wasn’t all that far for frequent visits.

But most of his instructions had involved James. The poor guy would go on with his business not knowing that his wife regularly sucked the doorman, or that there was a band of Rudy’s friends who’d fucked his wife—and her sister—or that there was even a larger group of men in New Jersey, or wherever, who knew all about his wife’s charms. Not to mention a dominatrix who’d taught her all kinds of new things... Rudy felt he had to make it up to James, the nice guy that he was.

James Dewey strained to open his eyes and awaken, but gave up, still in the midst of a most pleasant dream. Perhaps, it was the satisfactory outcome the previous night’s events that made him feel so aloof in the morning.

He’d arrived from his long business trip the night before, carrying the fatigue of a ruthless schedule that took him from London to Zurich to Kuwait to Beijing. It had been worth it: The company he’d inherited from his father was now ready to go through a major expansion, all but guaranteed to triple its sales volume over the next couple of years. Commies had a lot of money to spend these days.

This, however, turned out to be only one of his rewards: Alicia had surprised him by meeting him at the airport. She was at her absolute best, and not just in the way she looked—she was always gorgeous anyway. She was more pleasant than he could ever remember his wife being. More shockingly, he found a delicious sampler of French Cuisine at home, which Alicia endlessly professed to have prepared all by herself. Normally, she’d never come close to handling such menial tasks. Even the cook and the maid were sent home, which meant Alicia assumed the serving duties—evidently she took great satisfaction from this, too. It wasn’t until James had his Creme Brule that Alicia had decided to showcase the real desert: She’d walked into the living-room in stockings and lingerie that were far too sluttish for her standards, however much to James’s liking. And she positively had a look on her face that said to her husband “fuck me rough”. James had expected a little pampering from his young wife, but the amount of thought and preparation that went into this welcome act was beyond his imagination.

But that was when James had to ruin a perfect moment: He just couldn’t touch her without first coming clean. He had been offered a couple of high-priced hookers in China, an offer he’d proven too weak to resist. And given the way Alicia had used sex as a lever of control in their young marriage, he wasn’t sure he was supposed to feel guilty. But he did anyway.

Alicia sat next to him on the leather sofa, with a sign of gloom on her pretty face only briefly, which all but turned into guilt and understanding.

“James, I know this is my fault” she said almost apologizing. “I haven’t been as passionate and attentive as I should have been”.

James didn’t really know how to respond to this.

“You know I love you, don’t you?” she asked, and James saw in his wife’s eyes endless, genuine love. “I love you, too” he managed to reply awkwardly.

“And I’ll do anything for you.” she continued. Knowing Alicia, James would need a lot of convincing on that but things were turning quite extraordinary.

She climbed on top of him, with that “fuck me” smile again on her face. “Besides, boy will be boys! What’s a little escapade every now and then?”

James was convinced his wife had fallen prey to alien body-snatchers but couldn’t contemplate this for long: She was already undoing his shirt.

And then they had made love like animals—twice. Not a bad way to be greeted after a long trip...

James managed to open his eyes finally, pulling himself away from the pleasant dream. But that wonderful feeling that consumed his mind was still on. Then he realized there was something on him. On his crotch! He noticed a blonde batch of hair on his crotch. It was Alicia’s head bobbing up and down—and his body and mind connected: She was giving him a blow-job!

Alicia raised her head, gave him a smile, then went right back to sucking his cock, as if she was distressed to have to break away from such an important task even for a moment. But that glimpse was enough to reveal she already had her make-up on and her hair made. James could hardly believe it: His wife, who had always rejected oral sex as too demeaning and servile, was now waking him up with one? But, boy, did it feel good! She was obviously putting an impressive amount of effort into it: She was vacuuming like pro while her tongue danced across every vain, teasing the most sensitive areas ever so deliciously. James soon exploded in pure satisfaction.

After his wife finished swallowing enthusiastically, she finally stood up, dressed in yet another lingerie set worn to tease and please. “Good morning honey” she said with a bright smile, before rushing to the kitchen and returning with a tray: James’s breakfast. She turned CNBC on for him and dropped the remote on the bed. James usually took his time watching the financial news in the morning.

“Honey, I’ll go do my aerobics while you watch the news, OK?”

“Sure” James managed to say in amazement.

By the time Alicia came back and took her shower, James was already in his suit—the suit his wife had picked for him and neatly hanged on the door, along with the matching tie. He felt more relaxed, more aloof, more powerful than he could ever remember.

Alicia kissed him in her robe, more sensuously than he could ever remember. “Oh, look I’m getting you all wet” she said playfully.

James pulled on the cord of her robe, exposing her body. His wife was just plain gorgeous.

“Perhaps” he said in a meaningful tone, “I can afford to be a little late this morning...”

“Your wish is my command, Sir” she replied in her kinkiest smile, letting her robe drop to the floor.

A man could get used to this...