The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Razor-Sharp reporter Rose Campbell didn’t get that nickname for nothing—but will her interview with Roman Dalton prove too hot to handle?

Disclaimer: All characters are entirely fictional and all resemblances to anyone in real life is entirely coincidental. If you are under 18 or offended by sexual material, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Roman’s Girls — Rosie

By Sinistra

‘I’m not sure I get it. So this guy, Roman Dalton, seduces this reporter—or bribes her or whatever—and she leaks the phoney story about the chemical oil spill...or explosion…’ Mia looked up at her mother, bemused.

‘Right. And the media picks it up in a flash. So BASE Chemicals, the company responsible for this supposed spill—their stock value plummets. And who buys it all up?’ Rose looked up hopefully at her daughter. She felt herself quivering—but whether it was with excitement, terror, or anxiety, she didn’t know. It was probably the coffee. Her study was a jungle of ruined paperbacks, photographs, and stacks of paper held together flimsily with binds, the colours of which long having lost all organised meaning. She felt like some sensational conspiracy theorist, but this wasn’t aliens or lizards, not even the illuminati—just your everyday big business crony capitalist cover-up.

‘Roman.’ Mia realised. She wasn’t quite sure who all these people were or why she should care—but she’d never seen her mother so excited, and that was all that mattered. ‘And all with stolen money...and then when Marlowe Schultz comes out with his official statement—scrambling to reclaim his reputation, revealing that it had all been a sham—the damage is done.’

Rose nodded. ‘Exactly. The stock price stabilises, and a few months later, Dalton Chemical Manufacturing absorbs BASE’ Her gase intensified. ‘Roman plays a very good game—’

‘But not as good as you.’ Mia quipped.

Rose beamed with joy. ‘Thank you so much, honey. This is—touch wood—perhaps the biggest scoop I’ve had in my whole career. At least, that’s what my boss says. He has a draft of the article, and I’ve even managed to get an interview with the man himself.’

Mia gasped. ‘No way! Mom that is sick!’ Worry quickly flashed across her eyes. ‘Will you be alright? What if he—’

Rose leant forwards and placed a hand on her knee. ‘Nothing’s going to happen to me, I promise. There will be cameras and security, there’s nothing to worry about. I’m sure it will be sick.’

Mia looked hopefully into her mother’s worried eyes. The caffeine fuelled nights and the stress seemed to have etched worry lines into her forehead, but when she cracked a shy laugh her face returned to a youthful exuberance that Mia had hardly seen since George, her father, had left. Rose had married him when they were both 18, and had a child one year later. But the day after Mia’s own sixteenth, he had been caught having an affair—she had always considered it foolish of him to not expect to be found out, especially with such a dynamite journalist as a wife. She had never forgiven him, and for the last year Rose had been so busy with her job that she never had enough time to date around. At least, that was her excuse.

‘I’m so proud of you, mom!’ she exclaimed, throwing her arms around her.

Rose thought she might cry. ‘I love you so much Mia’ she said, rubbing her daughter’s back.

Mia released herself from the hug. She spoke slowly. ‘Mom, don’t get me wrong—I think this is super cool—but aren’t all big businessmen like this? What’s so special about this guy?’

Rose’s eyes glinted. ‘Apart from having a shady past in the mafia, Roman Dalton is one of the most atrocious, womanising, sexist bastards on the planet. He keeps his hiring practices and employee treatment closely guarded, but nothing stays hidden for long from yours truly. From what we know, he hires predominantly women, but only after they agree to a date —’

Mia’s face blanched.

‘— and once they do get a job, they are instructed to dress like bimbos and degrade themselves before him if they want a chance at keeping it.’

Mia’s voice was deathly quiet. ‘What the fuck. And you —’ she gulped. ‘You know all this?’

Rose nodded gravely. ‘Yeah. Photos. Phone calls with ex husbands. Apparently he targets vulnerable twenty-something year old women. Brainwashing or drugging is the current theory.’

Mia scoffed. ‘I can’t believe that shit still flies. Fucking hell.’ The pair was silent for a long time. ‘So what now?’ she asked, reclining on the sofa.

Rose took a deep breath. ‘Well, my interview is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon, so not much waiting. After the interview it’s just a matter of handing it to my editor and then...hopefully one fewer sexist psychopath Republican running the world.’

* * *

Rose sat in the back of the limousine in silence. She thought about small talk, something to pass the time—for though she had nerves of steel, they still had an edge. She pulled her arms into her chest, and locked her jaw as she was hit with a blast of chill wind, the air conditioning cooling everything but her nerves. Her driver, whose name she still didn’t know, had said nothing for the entire time they had known each other, and at this point the prospect of a conversation seemed more like a shouting match over the drone of the air conditioning instead of anything meaningful.

The driver had come for her some time in the afternoon looking uniquely out of place amidst the sea of taxis that swarmed outside the grey and brick apartment block where she lived. She had left the building and clung to the bannister as she stepped down to the pavement. She still wasn’t totally comfortable walking in heels, but they were one more weapon in her repertoire a woman could use to tease a few more answers out of her interviewees, and wearing heels was one of them. She was dressed in a zip-up leather black skirt and a black jacket over a white buttoned blouse. As she descended the steps a woman stepped out of the limousine, elegantly draping her legs over the seat and, resting her hand on the door, pulled herself up with a slow grace that oozed femininity. She was tall even with the open heels, and her tight fighting trousers finished several inches above the ankle, teasing a pair of long, slim legs. She wore a loose white top, and a pair of black sunglasses along with a cap. She bent down to open the car door, and motioned for Rose to enter.

Rose hurried forwards with an ungainly stride, smiling brightly at the woman as she did so. ‘It’s a lovely morning, isn’t it?’ No response. Rose entered the car, but the woman just stood there, no hint of anything behind those dark sunglasses.

After a few minutes she spoke up. ‘Hey. Do you think you could turn down this air-con? I’m sure Roman doesn’t want to be kept waiting til I defrost.’

She watched as the woman almost twisted a dial and the air-con lowered almost imperceptibly. Nice. And so Rose sat, quietly shivering, realising that for the first time she was looking forward to the moment she could get out of this car and meet Roman Dalton.

* * *

Nevertheless, when they reached their destination, Rose managed to flash the driver a smile and a thank you before she left the car. If the way Roman treated his other female employees was anything to go by, it wasn’t likely she was even getting paid for this work. She had a few minutes to gather her thoughts and check over her notes before she was meant to meet the man himself, so she sat herself in a small armchair in the waiting room. She found it hard to focus, as every few seconds the receptionist’s girlish voice would bubble into ludicrously high pitched giggles, and from what Rose could catch of her conversation it seemed she was organising some ‘girl’s night out’ instead of scheduling appointments. Maybe I should interview her afterwards, she mused.

She smelt him first. She turned to face him. He was wearing an impeccably tailored pale linen suit, tasteful leather shoes and a silver watch that was probably worth more than Rose’s total income from the last year. He wore an intense, musky cologne, which—wow, it smells like—oh, had she ever smelt anything like it? That really is...something she thought, before realising Roman’s hand was held out in front of her. He had asked for her name, hadn’t he? ‘Rose,’ she said, shaking his hand vigorously, ‘Rose Campbell.’

‘It’s good to meet you, Rosie,’ he said, turning away from her.

‘Rose.’ She repeated.

He turned back and fixed her with an intense stare. ‘Sorry. Didn’t I say that?’

Who is this guy? she thought. ‘No.’

‘Oh. It’s probably the fumes. All those chemicals, always clogging up the ears.’

Rose found herself giggling. That wasn’t even funny. Remember yourself.

He began to walk, and Rose struggled to keep up with his long stride. They took a lift up to his office, which overlooked the city. She said hello to a tall, strong looking woman who stood outside the doorway. A guard? Rose took quick stock of the room. Aha. Perfect. Bookshelves lined the walls and a large candle burned softly on a mahogany desk where two armchairs sat opposite each other. The room was thick with a rich, almost tangry aroma. She walked over to the bookshelf.

‘So what sort of crime thrillers does Roman Dalton enjoy when he’s not busy managing a multi-million dollar company?’

The man scoffed. ‘Of all the things that the terrifying Rose Campbell could scorn me for, my poor taste in fiction is your first priority? I must have underestimated you.’

She walked to the armchair and sat upright, crossing her legs. She knew she had a good figure, and took a small amount of delight in the way Roman’s eyes fell to her thighs. She sat poised, with a notebook resting in her lap, armed with a black biro.

‘Roman, do you have an official statement on the host of accusations levelled against you—such as fraud, money laundering, and theft—just to name a few.’

His eyes snapped up and met hers. She didn’t flinch. ‘Yes. I know the accusations. My official statement is the truth. Monica and I are business partners and nothing more. Of course I regret taking the money—if I had ever known it was stolen I would have reported it to the FBI immediately. I’m not a bad guy. As for the false information about the chemical leak, that was nothing to do with me. I’m not responsible for everything my shareholders, or anyone else associated with my brand does or says. That’s ridiculous.’

Rose scribbled furiously on her notebook. ‘Some might say it’s not ridiculous. Are you claiming Monica stole ten million dollars for you just to—what, get at her husband?’

‘I’m not going to speak on behalf of anyone else.’

‘And so you didn’t think to ask where this money had come from?’

Roman shrugged. ‘As far as I know, it was a thirtieth birthday present from her father. Sorry, the heating is on much higher than I intended. It’s quite warm in here, feel free to lose a couple layers.’

Rose’s scrawling slowed as she looked up at him. She scowled. Rose hated to admit it, but he was right. ‘It’s quite unprofessional of you,’ she said as she took off her jacket, ‘to make me undress whilst I’m interviewing you.’ She kept unbuttoning her blouse until her white bra was—wait what? ‘Sorry, I’m—’

‘No, it’s okay.’

Rose faltered. He could see her bra if she kept her blouse unbuttoned. She needed to button it up. Then why was he saying it’s okay? And why did she care? He’s lying, you idiot! Pull yourself together. She nodded, hastily fastening up her top, red faced. ‘Late night.’

He smiled warmly. ‘I understand.’

Rose cursed herself under her breath. At least he wasn’t fazed, but this wasn’t like her. She shouldn’t be being comforted by this chauvinist pig. She should be giving him no mercy. Aha! Her eyes shone with glee as she was suddenly reminded of something. She pounced.

‘Many of your critics, and I assume most of the public would argue that your relationship with Monica was unhealthy, with some making claims of blackmail or abuse. Can you clarify the validity of these claims?’

Roman blinked. Rose felt a sly smile tug at the corners of her lips. Gotcha!

‘Yes. They are utterly false. I have completely disengaged from Monica and any other of her related private interests. You can ask her yourself, and she will deny them too. They are deplorable claims. That’s all I’m going to say—’

‘But we have a number of accounts of women being forced to cut ties with family , performing sexual favours for promotions, discriminatory hiring practices—’

‘What? I can’t just threaten prospective employees—how would I ever keep them? I don’t have some evil mind control ray, and if by discriminatory you mean ‘giving women fair representation’ then sure, crucify me. If you don’t mind my asking—where do you come up with this stuff?’

Rose seethed. ‘Come up with?’ she hissed. ‘You wouldn’t guess the number of troubled women come to me, with frankly horrid accounts, and every woman I’ve met so far is some sort of bimbo or—’

‘I’ll have no disrespect to any of my employees in this office.’ he said fiercely. Then, softening, ‘Besides, I wouldn’t hire them if they didn’t dress glamorously.’

Rose’s mouth hung open. ‘You admit it! I knew it!’

Roman was apparently unfazed. ‘Yeah I’ll admit it, whatever. As soon as you admit you can’t handle a woman dressing nicely all because you’re just a sexually repressed conservative type. I see through it. I read your ‘top 10 sexually empowered feminists of 2017. Living through your idols, huh?’

Rose felt like she was going to explode. Keep your cool. Keep you...okay, fuck cool. ‘Sexually repressed? How dare you? This is p—’

‘Tell me, Rosie. Do you have a husband?’

She was so shocked at his shamelessness that she forgot to be angry at him for calling her by the wrong name again. ‘No.’ she said slowly. ‘My name’s not Rosie, either.’


She shook her head. She watched him grin. ‘I don’t see how this is relevant to—’

‘I knew it. I could smell it on you when I read your articles, when I met you. Single mother, too busy for love, slowly losing her youth, slowly resenting everything she desires. Is this true?’

Rose blushed and stuttered. He had read her like a book, but she didn’t have to let him know that. How did he know that? Why didn’t I know that? ‘Roman Dalton—this has been one of the most of the most bizarre interviews…’

‘Don’t forget to keep writing, dear.’

Rose looked down at her notepad. There was a clear divide where her pen had gone from making frantic, deep indents to a softer and slower line. Claims innocence with fake news leak. Look into Monica’s parents. Claims he doesn’t know where money came from. Tall. Handsome. Good body? She flushed a deep crimson. Can’t let him see that. Thank God he’s looking out for me.

‘A lot of women come to me like you. Dissatisfied. Stuck in dead-end jobs. Gorgeous.’ He had thought Rose’s cheeks couldn’t have become any more adorably red, but he was delighted to have been proved wrong. She squirmed in her seat.

He’s giving up more than he should, she realised. If I can get him like this… her eyes darted to the side, nervously glancing at the bookshelf, then back at him. She wanted to scream ‘Stop it!’ for some reason, but it just came out as a silky invitation.

‘Many of whom are much happier once they come to work for me. All that sexual repression stuff, all those boring inhibitions, they’re much nicer, much happier without it. All they need is a little encouragement. A little freedom. I offer them that. You see, I’ve been developing this new chemical...’

‘Uh huh’ she nodded, scribbling down gobbledygook. It was nice to be able to finally relax. He was spilling the beans, and she could just nod and smile, and he would keep spilling. She didn’t have to do any work.

‘ lives. In fact, I hate all this. The money’s great, sure—but I’ve come to realise that what I really love is the money, the women, the freedom. I can leave the management to some poor sod. Yeah I started it, but now I have the best chemists in the world working for me. I can retire when I want. This whole thing? A means to an end. That’s the truth. Did you catch that, Rosie?’ He looked at her, grinning and raising an eyebrow.

Rose looked up. She shook her head sheepishly. ‘You keep calling me Rosie, silly. My name’s Rose. And I don’t need to conce...concentrate. You think you’re like, sooo smart, telling me everything while I’m not concentrating. Well I’ve got you on camera!’ Rose’s voice had become slurred, adopting a soft, melodic lilt. She smiled smugly as she revealed her super-smart plan.

‘I much prefer Rosie, don’t you? It sounds more lovely, more feminine. It gets you all excited. But more importantly—you naughty devil! To think you almost outsmarted me! I would never have known you caught me on camera’ he lied. Roman was happy to sacrifice his ego on camera, just this once.

This guy is so nice. Why did I never not like him, never mind not trust him? ‘Yep, I’m super smart.’

‘Well, that’s just too bad. I need a super sharp, super sexy reporter to make sure I look good in the press. Not sure sexually repressed—’

Rose’s heart tinged with terror. Sexually repressed? What a sexually repressed girl do this? Before she knew what she was doing she was yelling ‘No! I can do it! I’m sexy! Look at me!’ She fumbled with her buttons, but eventually she was able to pull her shirt down and reveal two soft breasts encased in a large white bra.

‘It’s a tough job. You’re gonna have to ignore any withdrawals about the truth and dignity.’

‘I don’t care. Please.’ she said breathlessly.

‘It makes me so happy you say that, Rosie.’

She wriggled in her chair, her ample bosom swaying, smiling sweetly. It stopped occurring to her to be worried or ashamed or...anything. Suddenly she blushed, and stood up on her heels.

‘Hey, sweetie, what are you doing?’

Rosie stood before him, smirking at the growing bulge in his trousers. ‘Don’t play the fool, Roman. I know what sexy girls have to do to land a job for you.’ She bent over him, her legs as far apart as her tight skirt would allow them, her creamy breasts barely filled by the frail bra that encased them, swaying in front of him. ‘Go on, Roman. Touch them. I ne- I mean I know you want to.’

Roman brought up both hands and gently teased the soft skin. He pulled down the material and made small circles around her nipples which hardened under his thumbs. She sighed and cooed softly, her skin sorely craving the touch of another. She stretched her arms and clasped them around his head, pulling him towards a delicate kiss. She draped a leg over the arm of his chair and nestled in his lap, her skirt riding up her hips. ‘Mmm, Roman, keep...keep doing that…’ her chest ached with a numb pleasure as he sucked and fondled each tender breast, but she knew he wanted more. And that made her want more. She could feel his hardness in his trousers, and ripped out his belt with a panicked urgency, and unzipped her skirt, letting it drop to the floor. She felt his hands glide over her skin, and eagerly encouraged him by clasping her hands behind her head, brazenly thrusting out her large mounds. She undid her ponytail, shaking her head to release a cascade of sandy blonde hair. ‘I need you inside me. Now.’ she said in-between breaths as she took his girth in her hand, which needed no encouragement. Sliding her lacy underwear to the side, she sank onto his member with a blissful sigh.

With every stroke, Rosie cried out, her voice reaching titillating heights as she was taken by a long overdue yet wonderful climax, her back arched and her body shaking. Rosie knew there was a woman outside, probably getting off on it the naughty minx, which only propelled her screams. She hoped she enjoyed the performance. She stumbled back in a daze, crashing against the coffee table and knocking the candle onto the floor. Her right hand slipped into her warm pussy, priming it for another round. Her legs were spread wide, her heels pointing at the sky. ‘What are you waiting for, stud?’

* * *

An hour later Rosie was cradled in Roman’s lap, wearing nothing but her heels and her jewellery. Semen was dribbling from her cunt and down her leg, and she was sweaty with lovemaking.

‘That’s right, one more. ‘Her name’s...’

‘Rosie!’ She squealed at the phone.

‘Uh huh. Yeah. Get the outfit sorted by next week. Mmh. That’s the one. Okay, I’ll see you soon. Yep. Bye!’

‘Is it official then? When do I start?’

‘Whenever you want. Come to 300 Sunrise Terrace and we’ll get you sorted.’

‘Oh, gee, Roman you’re the best!’ she exclaimed, smothering him with kisses. She felt so wonderful, so complete. This was her destiny. Slowly and painfully she seperated herself from him, giggling, giddy with glee.

Her eyes focused on his watch. She groaned. ‘Oh no, Mia’s gonna be wondering where I am...can’t I just stay here with you?’ she asked hopefully.

‘No. Who’s Mia?’

Rosie slid off him, wiping herself clean with her panties which she then stuffed into her handbag. ‘My daughter.’

‘In that case, there’s just one more thing you can do for me.’

Rosie giggled as she slipped back into her clothes, listening very closely. When Roman was done talking she kissed him goodbye, and walked towards the door.

‘Don’t forget the camera.’

Rosie stifled a giggle. How silly of me. What would I do without Roman, hey? She grabbed the conspicuous device and shoved it into her bag.

‘Bye again.’ she said sweetly.


The woman at the doorway watched as Rosie walked away, admiring the sway of her cute bum. A dreamy smile lingered on her lips from imagining what had happened in that room. It wasn’t hard. Anyway, she was sure Roman would give her the details. She sighed. She had the best job ever.