The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Show me your titties,” I shouted over the din of bad pop music.

Oh sorry, am I being a bit brusque? I didn’t introduce myself, not that I thought I had to do so. My name is Greg Jordan, and you see, I control minds. Well, technically, not minds, just bodies. It’s a minor distinction in the end, but I know that in the past it has confused people. The easiest way to think about it is I can’t command someone to believe I am God and have them pray to me on their own, but I can with a few words force them to genuflect and praise me as if they might think I was God. All things related to physical responses. I bet you didn’t think someone like me even knew of the term ‘genuflect’. Just because I can command people to serve my every whim doesn’t mean I can’t be erudite when I want. Now, where were we? Oh yes.

“Your nipples look burnt. Did you have a kid not too long ago, shake your head yes.” As the waitress nodded her head in the affirmative I noticed that the rest of her torso was in rather nice shape. Her breasts were firm and, and to be honest, her darker complexion matched the burnt color. I slid a pen and piece of paper over to her across our table. “Write your name.”

The truth is, being just a physical action in itself and requiring next to no cognition; I could have her speak her name, but that takes extra work, and I was going to be quite busy soon. Still, I liked her look. I was sure the blonde hair came out of a bottle and that it was likely she had recently given birth, she was cute, better looking than any of the dancers on the day crew I had seen so far at least.

I don’t want to seem rude, judging a young woman entirely on her looks. The extent of my power is that anything requiring more than just a very basic level of thinking was suspect. So no, I couldn’t consult dear (I looked at the name she wrote down) Angela Morales about her hopes, dreams, fears, needs, kinks, etc. Anything requiring thought beyond writing her name, some yes and no answers, and very basic declarative statements and poor sweet Angela would be hard pressed to follow my instructions for her verbal responses, outside of those already in accordance with her will. The only times that wasn’t true were those extremely rare cases where I found female subjects who were down with what I was doing and were more than happy to help inform me about how my powers affected them. They were willing to think as I instructed them, to varying degrees, but to a woman they all admitted that my voice didn’t compel their thoughts, just their actions.

I looked over at the dancer on the stage. She was on her first song, so her top was still on. I could change that, but Angela here intrigued me somewhat. I put the worries over the limitations of my power out of my mind (it isn’t as though I hadn’t thought of it constantly over the years). I gave the waitress a twenty with instructions to pay the dancer, return to my table, sit in a chair facing me, and spread her legs open. I watched Angela depart for the stage. She had a nice ass stuffed in to her black mini skirt, tight and taut looking; like something a daring acrobat might dangle from. I stopped ogling her long enough to see the stripper smile when she was handed the twenty. The dancer had sandy blonde hair with tacky pink high-lights but she also had pretty, round, deep blue eyes at least.

Angela performed as instructed when she returned. “Pull your panties to the side.” She did so. “Hmm, you popped that kid out in the last two months? Nod your head yes.” Angela agreed with a nod. “It is dark in here but it does look like your pussy went back pretty good. Congratulations. Of course, there is only one way to tell for certain.” I smiled, as if to say, ‘that’s me, always the charmer.’ Since I didn’t provide additional instructions, she just sat there with her titties exposed and her kitty cat hanging out. “Get dressed and grab a bottle of champagne. Go to each dancer in the building and motion with the bottle over towards the champagne room and then join me. I’ll be waiting there for all you ladies.” With that, I left for the aforementioned area.

I had a few minutes to marshal my thoughts and I questioned my need to even be in this particular dump. It was day time, and as any connoisseur of gentleman establishments can tell you, the day girls (the dancers that worked during the day) were always the rougher looking chicks. The waitress Angela had some appeal, but I could get a dozen chicks better looking than her just walking through the local mall. You wouldn’t believe this, fearless reader, but with my power the fact of the matter is I have fucked so much that looks don’t even matter to me. Well, not that much. I am still a guy after all.

The truth was that a more private business like this allowed me the room to experiment. What I was looking for was another Sarah, that being the name of a beautiful young woman I found several years before who just happened to be quite pliant and submissive by nature. This was to a level where a mere discussion of me taking control of her would arouse her to the point all she could do is whimper and moan. From there was the sex which, not to overhype it, transcended the mere physical to become ephemeral. That’s correct, we left our bodies and became like wisps of smoke swirling about in eddies of pleasure and wafted to and fro in the most delicious torment. I knew that creative writing degree I made that Dean give me would come in handy.

I took stock of the room, and I immediately noted how the black leather upholstery of the couches appeared clean, not that I would be touching them. Unfortunately for me, it was quite dark in the room so I made a note to inform Angela she would need to turn the lights up once she returned.

“Ahem. Thank you.” I looked up to see the blonde dancer with the bad dye job had made her way in to the room. A quick once over confirmed my initial impression. Decent looks, pretty eyes. I decided to not wait on the other two strippers.

“Sit down, remain quiet, take your top off, and then write your name on this paper.” I immediately noted the quick flash of anger pass over her features. This was the common reaction from the vast majority of women I controlled. It was the only physical sign of defiance their body was capable of producing while under my command, and it was the cue I needed to know that this girl would not be replacing my Sarah. Still, she was a warm body I could enjoy.

“Nice little titties,” I looked down at the scrawl on the paper, “Tanya Crawford.” I reached out and pinched her left nipple. “Gasp.” She then did just that. Do you begin to see my conundrum, dear readers? Without the freedom to interact with a fully submissive subject, my mild sadism was left with only the crudest outlet: verbal abuse.

“They’re noticeably saggy for A cups. Also that bright red coloring on your areolas doesn’t fit your pale skin. Lean over in front of me far enough we are both at eye level.” She did as I commanded. Her breasts, unencumbered by any clothing, swayed as they pointed downward. I reached forward, grasped them roughly, and pretended to milk her. Her only reaction was to stare dumbly at me. “Sit back down.”

I was shaking my head in disgust when Angela returned with the other two girls. Both were petite. The brunette was wearing a black bra and matching thong whereas the strawberry blonde had a purple two-piece bikini on.

“Angela turn up the lights in here and get me a bottle of your finest vodka and some orange juice. I’ll be making my own screw-drivers I guess. You two, sit down, shut up, take your tops off and write your names on that paper on the table there.” And with both of them, as soon as my words were uttered, that familiar angry reflex. Tsk!

Disturbed as they were at having their bodies seized from them, the two strippers complied. The brunette, Melinda Elsworth was her name, had an unsightly spider web tattoo on her thigh that ruined her cutesy goth appeal. Also her small breasts had the unfortunate circumstance of being covered with very large areolas. Knowing that this was something many women were self-conscious about, I of course teased her.

“Ladies if you look at Melinda here you’ll note her large pepperoni—“ I stopped, in shock. The strawberry blonde had her top off then and her areolas were even larger. I caught her name on the sheet.

“Mary Doyle, you have some humungous pancake nips!” I turned to the other two dancers. “Laugh,” and they obeyed. It was then that the lights came up in the room. “Stop laughing.” They complied.

The lights didn’t improve my initial assessment of the strippers. I wondered if it was worth the effort of even being here. Perhaps, after all, I hadn’t seen what they had under their thongs yet, and the three of them all had decent enough asses; with the Tanya chick having a pretty nice one. Angela returned with my vodka and juice. I already had my own glass. Hmm there was a thought.

“All of you stay where you are. Feel free to speak amongst yourselves, however. I will be right back”

How quickly the dam broke.

“What the fuck!”

“I can’t move, I can’t move!”

“Tom! Help us Tom!”

“Oh god please, no!”

I got up and made my way to the bartender. He stood behind the counter, a rictus frozen on his face. I didn’t get his name, so he may have been Tom, or that could be the doorman or the manager. It didn’t particularly matter to me. I looked him over, all in all a fairly stout looking guy. “If any man enters the premises you start throwing bottles at him.” It was an added security measure that had just occurred to me. Of course, the doorman had instructions to turn anyone away aside from females and the DJ. With him I had taken some time to run my typical verbalization script. Pronounce the words as they are written, repeat when instructed or under certain simple conditions. The conditions were always the tricky part. That reminded me.

“Do not harm the DJ. If you see him or hear him, do not harm him.” That command would be a bit iffy, it relied on his recognition being at a level of near muscle memory (my idea for it anyway). Basically if he didn’t have to think about the terms of the commands, his body would follow them automatically. Much thought at all, though, and his body could seize up in a nervous failure.

I grabbed a six pack of bottled beer and thought over my commands to the other males. I believed I was covered. So long as my business was concluded within a few more hours, my commands wouldn’t degrade.

I sauntered over to the music booth. It was running one of the dancer’s awful bullshit pop songs. I found an old CD with some metal standards on it and eventually figured out how to get it to play. One beer finished, I held on to the bottle.

Back in the champagne room the hens were still carrying on with their shouting in fear and terror. “Shut up all of you,” I screamed to be heard over all of them. I then made myself another screwdriver, drank it, made another, and downed it as well.

That got my head right.

“Okay ladies it’s like this. First move this table and the other couch out of the way. Put it over there.” I pointed with a vague gesture just to frustrate them. Petty, but that was my mood. None of them could replace Sarah, so they were about to pay. Once they had finished that minor task I explained what I had in mind.

“You will split up in teams. Alright, shorty with the big nipples and gaudy spider tattoo, go stand by your teammate, the bitch with the bad pink dye job right there. And you, shorty with the even bigger nipples, go stand next to Angela over there.” I started on another drink. “The goal will be simple. Once Angela removes her top, bra, shoes, and mini skirt all four of you will be on the same page. When I say start you and your partner will wrestle the other team. The goal being to strip both their thongs off. The team that ends up nude loses. And by wrestling, I mean just that. Absolutely no punching, kicking, choking, eye gouging or biting. I will allow hair pulling if you are cognitively capable of doing so.” I chuckled at that one before draining another drink.

“The prize for the winners is simple, you get eaten out by the losers. So, I hope all you ladies bothered to clean your cooters this morning. Also the losers will get a special prize because, hey, I am a good guy I don’t care what the police in eight different states say.” I cracked open my second beer and took a swig then, which made my head pulse.

I looked the females over, my thoroughly toxic male gaze roving, lingering; assessing every exposed curve, blemish, stretch mark. The good, the bad, and yes, the ugly. And I fucking wanted it all, but in a way very few women could provide. I wanted it given without restriction: to be completely surrendered, utterly sacrificed. I wanted them to be wholly mine, in every glorious aspect. Because yes, ladies, you are glorious; but never so much so as when you submit. And then I belched. “Start!”

Melinda, the tiny brunette, wasted no time in taking down her petite counter-part, Mary. It wasn’t long before both of them were tugging frantically at each other’s thongs and lips were popping out left and right. But the little strips of fabric remained. I finished my beer and started a new one and looked at the other two girls. They both had each other leaning downward from some vicious looking hair pulling. But were otherwise stalled. I checked back with the two tiny mites and saw that now Mary’s bottoms had come undone and were being pulled from her clean- shaven vagina. Melinda wasted no time launching herself at the remaining opponent, Angela, but she tripped over one of Mary’s legs and bumped in to her partner, Tanya, and knocked her over.

Angela, to her credit, wasted no time reaching down and ripping Melinda’s panties off. Angela then made a grab for Tanya, but the pink haired stripper rolled out of the way and crouched near a wall. While the two remaining combatants stared at each other I told Mary and Melinda to join me on the couch, where I began to finger Mary quite vigorously.

While the two remaining combatants tussled about, their chests heaving, their breasts swaying; I took time to more fully appreciate the other girls’ feminine charms. Mary had little, pouty pink lips and felt quite tight to my probing. Melinda’s vagina was darker and a tad looser, but I still found it to be warm and welcoming. A yelp brought my attention back to the other ladies.

Angela and Tanya each had a handful of the other girl’s hair, but Angela had her other hand down Tanya’s thong and was pulling at her pubic hair, which caused Tanya to cry out in pain. Angela used her leverage to force Tanya down and quickly dispatched with the girl’s panties. I couldn’t help but laugh at the way Angela had circumvented my rules by following them: she had won by pulling hair, just not the hair I had in mind. Ahh well, the pink haired chick should have spent more time shaving and less time getting a bad dye job.

“Welp, looks like we have our winners.” I stood up and Mary promptly fell off my lap. I giggled and pointed at a spot on the floor several feet in front of me. “Mary lay down there on your back with your feet facing me. Angela do the same thing and situate yourself next to her.” Once they did as I instructed, I noticed that Angela (as the winner of this little contest) was still wearing her panties. “Both of you spread open your legs.” I then reached down and pulled Angela’s panties to the side, exposing her dark pussy lips. Given that I now could see her lady bits with more light, I gave her a thumbs-up before sliding that thumb over her clit.

With the new angle and the added illumination I also reappraised Mary’s vagina. Her clit was nestled in the hood like a tiny nub. Smaller than a pencil eraser. Given her pouty little lips and how tight she was, and just so you don’t all think I am always a jerk, I offered her some praise. “Mary you have a very pretty little pussy.” See ladies, I am practically a feminist when it comes to these sorts of things.

I informed the two losers of how I wanted them positioned and then after a few more minutes of setting them up in the way I desired, I watched with mild interest as they began to go down on the winners. I poked my pinky fingers inside two of the empty beer bottles I had accumulated and thought over the next part. ‘No need to hurt them,’ I figured. Plus the smell of shit I found utterly unappealing. So, I took one bottle and pushed the stem inside Tanya’s pussy and then did the same on Melinda.

This was the scene: Angela and Mary being eaten out by Melinda and Tanya while I fucked latter two with empty beer bottles. By this point I had developed quite the buzz and had decided once she was wet enough I would simply nut inside Angela and call it a day. Imagine my surprise then, from off to the side I heard, “Mary you forgot- WHAT THE FUCK!”

“You stand still,” I shouted by reflex in the direction I had heard the voice come from. Fortunately, my eyes found her right as my command ended, so, despite my stupor, I caught that magnificent light in her eyes, the blush on her cheeks, the quick, involuntary intake of breath that caused her bountiful, sweater encased chest to swell. She liked it. She liked it so much she didn’t utter a sound even though I had made no command to stop her from talking.

I rose on unsteady legs, smoothed over my hair and made my way towards her with a smile stretched across my face. “Hello Beautiful. Welcome to your darkest fantasy.” And I thought I had all the time I needed to see just how much she really liked it.

Meanwhile, outside in the parking lot

She watched with disdain as yet another girl went inside the club. She double checked her phone, and sure enough, he had been in there nearly two hours. Being the day shift she had felt that he wouldn’t be in there much longer, but then this new girl had entered the establishment, and she was way better looking than the others. She knew he was likely to take his time after that.

Sarah thought again about barging in and forcing a resolution, but that could very well put innocent people at risk. No, she would wait and follow her plan; meet him as he walked outside and unlocked his car. See how much he liked being ambushed. For the tenth time that day she checked her gun. Fully loaded and the safety was off.

For over a year she had searched for him. Across multiple states and through the detritus of the broken lives of dozens of female victims. The bastard would pay for what he did, unless her plan failed, then she would probably die. That was risk she had assumed when she decided to follow through with this.

Determined to finish the course she set out on, Sarah waited in the car, folded her arms while staring at the now closed door and fumed, torn between feelings of dread and fury as the sun slowly began to set.