The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

If Tayla had thought she would sleep in a bed at the Rutman house, she was very mistaken. When dinner was over, Bessie showed her to the laundry, where a soft but somewhat well-used dog bed had been laid on the floor.

“It should be warm enough, this time of year,” said Bessie apologetically. “Let’s get you toileted, and ready for bed.”

Tayla had thought she might be led back to the house’s bathroom—but instead, Bessie led her outside, into the cold night air of the back yard, and Tayla’s stomach began to sink in despair.

Surely not, she thought.

But she was correct. Bessie led Tayla to a small corner of the backyard, where a pit full of coarse sand was located. “I’ll help you get that plug out of your butt,” said Bessie, “and then you can do your business.”

“I can’t!” protested Tayla. “Outdoors—this isn’t—I mean…”

“Don’t be silly,” said Bessie. “A cow like you can’t be going inside the house, and making work for people to clean up. If this sand litter is good enough for me, it’s good enough for you. There’s a bucket of warm water and a wet cloth there to clean up with when you’re done.”

It was humiliating enough—and then Tayla saw that Sheriff Rutman had emerged from the house, and was watching impassively from the front step. Not only would she have to do her business outside—but she would have to do it with the Sheriff watching her.

Bessie carefully removed Tayla’s skirt—“We’ll need this out of the way—and then worked the plug out of Tayla’s butt, taking care to carefully clean it with the wet cloth and soapy water.

Blushing, Tayla moved to squat in the sandy litterbox—but Bessie corrected her.

“All fours, sweetie,” she said. “Squatting is undignified.”

And so Tayla found herself on all fours in the sand, her bare tits hanging down beneath her, raising one leg to piss like a dog, with the Sheriff watching her. Not just watching—he had his phone out, and he was filming her! She wanted to die of humiliation—but it would be no less humiliating to hold it in and wet herself in the laundry overnight. And after she was done, it was time to void her bowels, and she did this like a dog as well.

Bessie helped her cover her mess over with sand, and clean her pussy and butt with the cloth and water.

Tayla looked back at the Sheriff as she cleaned herself, and was amazed by how inferior she now felt to the older man. Only days ago, she might have regarded the Sheriff as her equal—a fellow human, but in a different job. But now, for all that she might still hate him, and want to be free of his captivity, she couldn’t help but regard him as a higher order of being than she herself was. She was pregnant and half-naked. She had spent dinner describing how she had enjoyed rape, and then orgasmed in public. And now she was pissing and shitting outside like a dog while a man watched. How could she possibly consider herself the Sheriff’s equal? These things didn’t happen to normal people. Whatever she was, it was… something else.

Bessie gently reinserted the plug in Tayla’s anus, and then led her back indoors. The Sheriff vanished to his bedroom. Bessie locked the internal and external doors of the laundry and turned out the lights, leaving Tayla trapped, alone, in the dark, with the dog bed.

It had been an exhausting day, and this was the first time Tayla had had privacy since she left the hospital. She lay down in the bed, intending to think over predicament, and perhaps plan a way out—but instead she fell almost immediately into a deep, dreamless sleep.

“Get up, Snowball. It’s breakfast.”

She felt a leather shoe nudge her in the breasts, and she snapped to wakefulness. Edward Rutman was standing over her, dressed in business clothes, clearly preparing to kick her in the tit again—and this time harder.

She jumped up before he could kick her.

“Good morning, sir,” she said, almost by reflex, focused on deflecting any further abuse from the Sheriff’s son.

Edward pointed to the door that led from the laundry to the back yard. “Out you go. Time for your morning shower.”

Tayla absolutely did not want to shower in the back yard—and in front of Edward—but it was clear to her by now that she had no choice. In the small space of the laundry, Edward’s well-muscled bodied made her feel small and trapped. And after the cruelty he had already shown to her, she feared to think what he might do if she genuinely defied him.

Unhappily, she opened the door, and went out into the backyard.

Edward waited until she was standing on the lawn, and then said, “Strip.”

Tayla paused. Her clothes weren’t much, but they were all she had.

“We all saw your udders and your cunt during your disgusting display last night,” said Edward. “Strip.”

And so Tayla had no choice but to undress. Edward leered at her as she removed her scant clothes in a way that made it much more humiliating than it might have been in front of anyone else—even Edward’s father the Sheriff. When it was done, Tayla tried to cover her tits and her pussy with her hands, but her hands were strangely unwilling to obey.

Edward picked up the garden hose, pointed it at her, and turned it on full-blast. Tayla shrieked as the cold water hit her body and splashed up into her eyes.

“Turn around,” said Edward. “Let’s get that whole body clean.”

Tayla obeyed as best she could, and let Edward hose her down like an animal.

At the end, Edward approached her with the hose. “Spread your legs,” he told her.

Whimpering, Tayla obeyed—and Edward jammed the nozzle of the hose up into her pussy, squirting directly into her cunt. Tayla squeaked at the humiliating invasion.

“Have to wash out that disgusting whore-hole of yours,” said Edward. He let it blast into her for a few more seconds, then pulled it out. With one hand he grabbed Tayla’s hair, and pulled her to the concrete slab in front of the back door, where he produced a towel and proceeded to roughly towel Tayla dry—with special attention to her tits and pussy.

When it was done, and Tayla was significantly less damp, he said, “Say thank you, slut.”

Tayla didn’t want to—but she knew what was expected of her now. She dropped to her knees onto the discarded towel, and leant forward and kissed Edward’s cock through his pants. “Thank you, sir,” she mumbled.

He made no reply. Instead he grabbed her hair, pulled her back to her feet, and then continued pulling her, through the doorway and back into the house.

“My clothes…” protested Tayla. They were still lying on the grass outside.

“We’ve all seen what you’re offering,” said Edward. “There’s no need to make more dirty clothes for my mother to wash.”

Inside, the table was set for breakfast. Edward dragged Tayla over to his seat, and pointed to his coffee cup. “Milk,” he told her, in a stern voice.

Tayla’s face twisted in misery. “I can’t…” she said.

Edward slapped her across the face. “Don’t talk back to me, Snowball,” he said. “Try and make milk.”

Tayla leaned over the cup, and squeezed at her tits half-heartedly. As she had known would be the case, they produced no milk.

Edward grabbed her and pushed her back into a position where her tits were resting on the table. He took off his shoe, and slammed the heel down on her vulnerable titflesh—BANG, BANG, BANG. Tayla screamed out loud, and tried to jerk away violently, but Edward wouldn’t let her. He gave her two more blows for struggling. BANG, BANG.

“Every morning and every evening until you produce milk like a good little cow,” Edward reminded her. “Now say thank you.”

Tayla felt tears running down her cheeks from the pain in her tits—but she obediently fell to her knees and kissed Edward’s cock again. “Thank you, sir,” she moaned.

And as she mashed her lips against his erect penis through his pants, it began to dawn on her that this was really happening—and it would really keep happening. She would really have her tits beaten with a shoe—possibly harder and longer each day—until she learned to produce milk.

And that, therefore, she should probably start practicing.

She staggered back to her feet, and looked for her place at the breakfast table—but the chair that had been there yesterday was gone. Instead, the dildo that had been affixed to the chair yesterday was now stuck to the floor, just to the side of Edward’s own chair.

The Sheriff walked into the room, straightening his law enforcement uniform, and saw Tayla looking in dismay at the dildo.

“After last night’s little tantrum, it’s clear you can’t be trusted at the big girl table yet,” he said to her. “You can take your dinner kneeling at my son’s feet until you learn to behave. Go get on your dildo like a good girl.”

Tayla made another try to end this horrible nightmare. “Please,” she said. “You don’t have to do this. I’ll… I’ll stay and have the baby. Just give me my clothes back and put me up in a hotel. Or ring my parents. They’ll come and get me…”

The Sheriff reached into his pocket, and Tayla squealed as her shock collar zapped her.

“Do as you’re told, young lady,” said the Sheriff. And Tayla had no choice but to lower herself gingerly onto the dildo, working it slowly up into her pussy, feeling it fill her up, and then exhaling sharply as it began to vibrate inside her.

Bessie emerged from the kitchen and placed food on the table. Tayla’s was placed on the table next to Edward’s, out of Tayla’s reach. Then Bessie, Edward and the Sheriff each took their seats. Bessie said grace, and then the Sheriff said, “So tell us again about how you became pregnant, young miss. And no mistakes this time, or you’ll get the collar.”

Tayla struggled to remember the twisted version of her rape she had described last night. “It was my 18th birthday and I was dressed like a slut,” she said. “And I encouraged my friend Liam to rape me, becuase I’d always fantasised about sucking his cock.”

She felt a hand tap her shoulder, and she turned to see that Edward was holding out his palm to her. There was a small portion of scrambled eggs on his palm. “Eat,” he said.

She reached up to take the egg from his hand—and he slapped her fingers away with his free hand. “Eat,” he told her again.

She looked at him in despair. Why was this happening to her?

“Hurry up and eat your damn food,” said the Sheriff impatiently.

Blushing, Tayla leaned forward and licked the scrambled eggs out of Edward’s hand, like a pet.

“Good girl,” said Edward, and patted her on the head. “Go on with your story.”

“Liam took me out into an alleyway, and I kissed him, and he pulled off my panties,” said Tayla. “And I was wet when he pushed his cock into me.” She hated telling this lie—this slutty story about wanting to be raped. She hadn’t wanted it. It had been awful. “And I moaned, and bucked against him, and I orgasmed three times.”

Edward’s hand had returned with more eggs. “Eat,” he commanded. Tayla obediently licked the food out of his hand.

“What was the best bit about the sex?” asked the Sheriff.

Tayla tried to think what he wanted to hear. There had been no “best bit”—unless he counted the single orgasm that she had actually experienced, and in many ways that had been the worst, most shameful bit. How could she choose a “best bit”?

But she knew what the worst part had been—and that was probably what he wanted to hear.

“That I wasn’t on birth control,” she said. “That he might get me pregnant when he came inside me.”

Edward tapped her shoulder again—but this time when she turned back, there was no open palm bearing food. Instead, to her shock, she saw that Edward had unzipped his fly, and his erect cock was bare and standing at attention beneath the dinner table. A drop of milky white pre-cum glistened on the tip. Carefully, Edward placed a small portion of scrambled egg on the tip of his cock.

“Eat,” he commanded.

Tayla looked at the Sheriff. Could he see what Edward was doing? Probably not. Would he disapprove, if he knew? She thought about telling him that Edward was harassing her—but all she could picture was being punished for being a tattle-tale. The Sheriff likely wouldn’t care. He would probably tell her she deserved it.

Whimpering unhappily, Tayla leaned forward and licked the egg off the tip of Edward’s cock.

It was her first time tasting a man’s dick—even if it wasn’t her first time tasting cum. Edward’s cock twitched as her tongue touched it, and the egg almost fell off, but she caught it on her tongue and brought it back to her mouth to swallow.

“Tell me about how you felt when you were leaving the club with Liam,” said the Sheriff.

She grasped for the answer that would please her captor. “Excited,” she said. “Nervous. Not sure if he was going to rape me, but… hoping he would.”

She could picture it—could imagine that feeling. She had to, in order to answer the Sheriff’s questions. And as she did, it sat alongside her memory of what had actually happened—somehow feeling just as real. It was an uncomfortable feeling—two truths co-existing in her brain.

Edward balanced some more of the surprisingly tasty scrambled eggs on his cock. “Eat,” he commanded again, and Tayla obediently stuck out her tongue and licked the food off his penis.

“What song was playing in the club as you went outside?” asked the Sheriff.

“I Get What I Want, by Sex Kitten,” said Tayla promptly. And that was true—it had been playing—but now she could hear it in the background of the fake memory, where she was nervously following her friend outside in the hope that he would rape her.

Edward placed a larger serving of scrambled eggs on his cock, and some of it fell off, sliding down his shaft to rest against his stomach. “Eat,” said Edward. “All of it.”

Tayla licked the tip of his cock, to see if that would satisfy him, but he simply repeated, “All of it,” and so Tayla had to lean closer and run her tongue up and down the length of his cock to lick the food off.

“What did you want Liam to do to you, that he didn’t?” asked the Sheriff.

She had wanted him to stop. But that wasn’t what the Sheriff wanted to hear. So she once again simply reversed things, and told him the thing she had been most afraid of. “I wanted him to hurt me more,” she said. “I wanted him to be rough.”

And she could picture that fear—that fear that he would hurt her—but also picture the lie—that she had been hoping he would hurt her. Hoping he would force her. That he would slap her, grab her, dig his fingers into her muscles….

There was more food on Edward’s cock. “Eat,” he said, and she leaned forward to lick it—but Edward’s patience had run out. He grabbed her hair, and pulled her forwards, and she felt the tip of his cock slide between her lips, and then his whole shaft, filling her throat. She swallowed convulsively, feeling the scrambled eggs slide down into her belly, but Edward didn’t let go. He began to buck his hips, pumping his cock into her mouth—one stroke, two, three—and then suddenly he let go, and she was free.

He immediately got more eggs and put them on his cock. “Don’t make me force you again,” he said. “Eat.”

Tayla returned her mouth to his cock, eating the eggs—and again felt him thrust into her mouth three times. This time she let him, not needing to be forced. When his hips were still, she withdrew her mouth.

Another serving. Tayla put her mouth back on his cock—and this time he didn’t thrust, and she instinctively knew what he wanted. She bobbed her head up and down on his dick—one time, two, three, and then withdrew.

“Snowball is hungry this morning,” laughed Edward to his mother and father.

“Bless you, for feeding the hungry little thing,” said Edward’s mother Bessie.

“Make sure she gets her special protein,” said the Sheriff.

And Tayla did get her “special protein”—because when she next returned her mouth to Edward’s cock, she felt him buck and twitch—and then her mouth was filled with spurts of hot cum, and Edward orgasmed.

His hands returned to her head as he did this, holding it down on his cock. “Swallow,” he commanded her, and she did. She waited there, as small spurts of further cum squirted from his cock, and it was only after some minutes when his dick had begun to soften that he let her go.

“Good girl,” he told her.

And Tayla didn’t know if she had to do it, but she thought it better to play it safe. She leaned forward, and kissed the tip of his softening cock.

“Thank you, sir,” she said.

And she must have been satisfactory, because after that Edward put the rest of her plate of food on the ground next to her, and let her eat it naked on all fours like a dog.