The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Background

I can control people’s minds. I don’t know how I came to have this power, but I think to some extent it has always been in me. I don’t need to say a magic word, drug people, or hypnotize them. I merely have to see something I want, reach out and take it. Unfortunately for the world, what I want is to satisfy my own sexual desires, and they aren’t the type your ordinary gentleman has. Once you have complete control it’s difficult to have any moral qualms about other people’s petty wants and needs. If I can make them forget anyway, who is truly harmed?

While I’ve had many escapades throughout my youth, I’m in my mid-thirties now and have finally settled down. I moved to Portland, a hip little city fully of young people with too much time on their hands. I chose a small house in Southeast, on a quiet side street, to unleash my machinations. Over the last several years, I’ve turned it into my own puppet show, populated by various sexual toys, and in fact filled with my biological offspring, raised blissfully and unknowingly by my conquests. In their waking lives, I’m just another neighbor on a cozy street in Portland. They don’t realize I’ve transformed their lives, one at a time, forever.

Let’s start at the beginning.

House number: 4624

Occupant: Sara. Single girl in her mid-20s.

The first time I saw Sara she was walking her Boston Terrier, Sid, in front of my house. I paused from watering the lawn to raise a tanned, muscled arm at her. She pretended not to see and continued on her walk—not to be bothered by just another fucking guy that wanted to hit on her. She had long black hair and straight-across bangs, Betty Page style. She was very petite and thin, with small, compact little breasts, the only exception being a super fat ass perfectly displayed by her black, skin-tight jeggings. A poor fashion choice, perhaps, but very useful to me in deciding whose mind I would invade next. She played guitar in a punk band on the weekends, I picked up, and bartended at one of the dives on Hawthorne. In my experience, girls like that disdain cute, normal looking guys like me. You could say I was doing her a favor in planning to do what I was.

That night I entered her mind fully for the first time, reaching out and penetrating her across the street. She lay on her couch and I felt her mind resist my entrance, but I pushed in anyway. She was thinking about some douchebag named Seth, a drummer who played in the opening band over the weekend. Right again—this girl could do way better than the scrawny asshole she was pining over. Not my problem, though. I really only cared about turning her into my personal fuck toy.

I beckoned for her to get up and cross the street. Her little dog started barking but I quieted him too and sent trotting over to sleep on his doggy bed. She walked slowly, as though pulled on an invisible thread to my front door, and knocked. When I opened, she seemed surprised to see me herself.

I pulled her in and bade her stand in the center of the room. She started, “Who the fuck are you? What am I—“ before I silenced her. I can reach inside and control a person’s mind from the inside. I don’t even need to speak aloud to control someone, but I do sometimes for effect. “Shut up.” I said. “There is nothing you can do to stop me. There is no escape from inside this house, all the doors are locked, and you are not able to hurt me in any way.” I implanted the truth of it and it sunk in immediately. She looked terrified. I like them compliant like this, but a little bit scared. I like to experience their emotions in real time as they cycle through shock, fear, and eventually… submission.

I ordered her to get down on her knees and open her mouth. I couldn’t wait for this. Something about shoving your cock into the pretty face of an unwilling girl gets me harder than anything. Her whole essence, her whole being pleading up at you through her tear-filled eyes– and there is no more effective way to make her feel worthless and shut her up than sticking your dick in her facehole.

Her mouth hung open, her lower lip trembling and her big, brown eyes staring up at me. I grabbed a handful of her hair at the back of her head and guided her lips onto my cockhead. Her mouth was so soft, and wet and warm. I began bobbing her head up and down my cock, listening to the sound of her gasping and whimpering around it. Ha – she was in for a lot more than that. Her reluctant cock-sucking was bringing me to full mast. I pulled my now wet dick out with a pop and slapped her across the face with it. The look of shock on her face was priceless. I raised my hand and she winced and screwed up her eyes.

I reached out to her mind and told her to open her mouth again, and her little pink lips popped unwillingly into an O shape, into which I quickly forced my throbbing cock. I didn’t hold back this time, and slid my cock past her tongue and straight down her velvety throat. The feeling of her throat muscles spasming and gagging almost brought me to orgasm right then and there, but I resisted. I sent a command to her to not bite down, and she was so helplessly in my thrall that she would have passed out thrashing on the end of my dick without ever trying to defend herself had I wished it so.

I pulled my dick out of her throat and shoved it back in savoring the new feeling of snugness and the thick saliva that coated my entire cockhead. I pulled it out and rammed it in again and again, fucking her face with as little regard as I would a well-worn pussy. My cockhead grazed her lips each time, before sliding in, inch after throbbing inch straight down her throat. Despite her inability to stop the assault, she looked as though she were struggling internally—her heavy mascara was streaming down her face and her throat was distending grossly to make room for my dick. Her face and neck were blotchy from gagging and trying to get enough air between my thrusts. I pulled out, slapped her—hard, and thrust back in to the hilt. Ahhh I was getting really close to spraying my loud straight down the back of her throat, but wanted to hold back a little longer. My cock was dripping with her throat juices now, and I knew it was time.

I pulled out, picked her up by the throat and slammed her over the back of the couch, face down. I could have easily made her do this herself, but there’s something fun about man-handling them. I forced her to reach back and spread her own ass-cheeks—the final coup de grace of humiliation as my erect cock bumped up against her pussy. She cried out and begged me not to “Please don’t put it in there!” She said. And I said I wouldn’t fuck her pussy. She relaxed underneath me in sheer relief. I slammed forward with all of my might directly into her tight, little asshole. She started to scream, but I quickly clamped her mind in a vice of control and silenced her, so that all she could do was gape wide-eyed and feel every inch of my cock sliding into her rectum. I held it there, firmly, her ass pulled up tightly against my pelvis. It was like I was wearing her. Her ass became no more than my own personal little pleasure hole and her squirming body only serving to stimulate me even more. I knew my cock was lubed up enough with her throat juices so that it felt great for me, but there was still so much friction going in that it must have hurt like hell for her. Even better.

I began pushing in and out of her sphincter, luxuriating in every stroke, feeling her sink into the couch in defeat beneath me. We must have made a pretty picture—my sexy, disheveled Betty page look alike laid out as I rutted into her viciously like an animal. Sure—I was quite good-looking myself. I could have probably gotten her to have sex with me if I’d been willing to play the games, take her to dinner, pretend to like the same bands. But even then it wouldn’t have been the kind of sex I wanted—this complete, selfish use of her body. She would have had limits, and I’ve never cared much for respecting limits. All I care about is cumming as hard as I can in as many tight little fuckholes as I can. Plain and simple.

Looking down again at my thick cock forcibly raping her ass, I felt my orgasm start to build. I knew from experience that I could get her to clamp down on my cock if I scared her a bit. I pulled her up towards me by her long, dark hair and grabbed her creamy white throat. She responded perfectly, all her muscles tensed and her asshole clamped down like a velvet glove. My strokes became labored as I harshly thrust into her tightened bowels a few last times. She tried to scream and everything went white and I started spasming and cumming, deep, deep in her rectum. I kept cumming—spraying my load inside her, possessing her, coating her with my thick hot jism as she struggled, impaled underneath me. It felt like an eternity before my shuddering and bucking subsided and I released my hold on her hair. She collapsed back onto the couch and I pulled out of her with a wet pop.

I held her there, slumped over the couch, as her asshole started shrinking back to its normal size. Her body was trembling and little sobs racked her frame, and soon enough my warm started dribbling out of her tight pucker. I liked to watch this as I enjoyed the afterglow of my rape. After a moment, I let her pull herself up. I grabbed her by the chin, squeezing her mouth into a pucker. “Pull your panties, slut, and leave them full of my jizz until tomorrow morning. Go home.” She won’t remember any of this tomorrow, but I’ll let her wonder what happened to her underwear.