The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Gail stood docilely, trembling with the heat flooding her body, but waiting silently. Somehow she knew that if she opened her mouth without good reason, no sound would escape her lips.

The man was looking at her curiously. Finally he snapped his fingers. “The new girl,” he said. “Receptionist. Right?”

“Yes,” she answered automatically. Her lips closed again at the end of the word like a seal, rendering her mute again until prompted.

“What’s your name?”

“Gail.”

“And I can tell you’ve been chipped.” He left a space for her to answer like it was a question, but as it still wasn’t a question, she didn’t respond.

After a moment he nodded. “Who chipped you?”

“Judy.”

He nodded and turned to his computer, just behind him. Pulled open a window. A very basic interface, nothing fancy; a few text entry boxes, a couple of sliders, some buttons. There was a name above them: Ursula Adams.

Was this how he had control over Doctor Adams? It had to be, surely. Had he designed the whole system?

He pulled down a menu and clicked, and the interface changed slightly; the sliders stood at different places, there was nothing in the text boxes. The name read Chipset 031, and as she watched he erased that. “Full name?”

“Gail Handler.”

He entered her name into the interface. The controls for her chip. She wished she was close enough to see the sliders, to read any smaller text he might input into the key boxes.

“Well, Gail,” he said, and he turned back to her. “I imagine you’re wondering exactly what’s been going on. Tell me what you know.”

A nervous chill swept over her, almost entirely drowned out by the arousal that had built up in her over the time the chip had been active.

“I know you like women in skirts and high heels,” she said. “And any woman on the staff here who wears them has to be chipped.”

Gail stopped there, frowning slightly, playing that sentence over in her head. She hadn’t, as she’d intended to, said ‘and you think any woman on the staff here who wears them has to be chipped’. She’d said it much more like it was an immutable fact of life.

It was at that moment, wondering why she’d skipped her little clarification, that she realised. It wasn’t something this man thought. It was true. If someone showed up to work at the Adams Clinic wearing skirt and high heels, they must be chipped.

She remembered the way the other women had acted when they saw what she was wearing, and suddenly she understood completely. In their shoes, she realised, she would have done the same thing.

“Wait,” she said slowly. “Did you do that?”

“What?”

“Oh.” She flushed. “Never mind.” Which was much easier for her to say than explaining her whole thought process would have felt.

“When I did that, today, and the others saw me, they all sprang into action.” She felt again the hands seizing and pinning her, her hair pulled away, the sharp bite of the chip. “I was chipped. And now I’m not in control of my actions.” She paused. She’d definitely done some things since, just minor things that didn’t affect the chip’s overall directives. “Most of them, anyway,” she said.

“The chip’s made me really horny, too,” she said, and she swallowed nervously; she hadn’t wanted to admit that, but it was something she knew, so it fitted his order. And she very much doubted she could disobey his orders.

She saw his cock twitch at her confession, and the chip rewarded her with an extra-strong pulse of pleasure. “Especially when I was watching you fuck Doctor Adams,” she went on, and the pulse returned, redoubled. “I really, really wanted that to be me.”

“You know it will be,” he told her.

“It will be,” she agreed, and wondered if she could only say that because she had now been told she knew it.

“I suddenly knew I had to come here,” she said. “And I did, and you were fucking Doctor Adams, and I just stopped and stood here.”

He was smiling broadly. “Just stopped?”

“Yes.”

“Like you couldn’t move?”

“Yes.”

“Except for that.” He nodded at her. Gail realised she still had hold of her own breast. Was still squeezing at it. Had simply not been able to distinguish the steady, kneading pleasure from her hands from the pleasure the chip was pumping through her system.

“…Yes,” she admitted. To have been so unaware of what she’d been doing was… not humiliating, but embarrassing, except that some part of her found it deeply exciting. Was that the chip?

Would it matter, before long, if everything about her came from the chip?

She shivered at the idea, because she couldn’t know if it was her own, or the harbinger of more to come, priming her head to be fertile soil for further changes.

He was nodding and smiling. “This is all good, ah—“ he glanced back to the screen—“Gail—and sorry, I promise I’ll learn your name soon.” She found herself oddly touched by the courtesy. He had, she was pretty sure, all the control he needed. He could make her do anything. He could ignore her name, call her by a nickname, tell her her name was now Marcia if he wanted, and the chip would make it all true for her.

…She was shivering at the idea of being changed a lot, suddenly. That had to be the chip, the little device she couldn’t help but obey.

He stood up and approached her. “Let me turn that around for a moment, then. What do you need to know, that you don’t?”

Her mind raced. There were so many things, fears bubbling up, concerns, and a tantalisingly growing number of changes she almost wanted to beg him to make. But ahead of every single one of those was, “I don’t even know your name.”

He laughed, a surprised laugh, a laugh of someone who saw the funny side. “Trevor,” he said. “I keep this place going.”

“Don’t you run this place?”

He laughed again. “Don’t wish that kind of effort on me!” he said. “No, I profit by it, that’s all. And by my girls, my bits of skirt.”

He sounded proprietary, fond, and a thrill went down her spine.

“Are you doing to affect what I do outside of work?” she asked.

Trevor, standing very close, offered a question of his own. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

He put his hand up by her cheek, brushed a finger across her lips, and seemed to frown minutely. “Then nothing has to change,” he said, though he sounded distracted as he did. He turned, making his way back to the computer.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Your job,” he said, his eyes on the screen. He typed something into one of the text boxes. “Not that the job description hasn’t evolved. For example, I now have direct ownership of your activity.”

“Okay… so am I Support now?”

“No. You do exactly what you were doing.” He straightened up again and headed back to Gail. “You tell the same people the same things, go to the same people when you need to troubleshoot.”

He held up a finger near her face, and her mouth opened; she leaned forward and took his finger into her mouth, beginning to fellate it.

She felt strangely like a need was being satisfied. “But if I want you, you come to me,” Trevor continued. He added a second finger and she opened her mouth a little wider, sucking away happily.

“Oral fixation’s working correctly,” Trevor murmured, and Gail suddenly realised what he’d done; the test he’d carried out, the change he’d made, and the test of the change.

Not that realising this prevented her from sucking his fingers like her life depended on it, wishing fiercely that it was his cock.

His other hand found her hip, then crept round to her backside, where he caught hold of her pleated skirt and pulled it up, his hand finding her buttocks beneath it and squeezing. Her body moulded against his, pressed firmly against him, a silent offering, her breasts enveloping his elbow as she continued to fellate his fingers.

Trevor added a third finger to the mix, obviously much encouraged, and was rewarded with an audible eager “MmmPPH” from Gail as she gladly took it on. Pressing hard against him, the chip causing her to focus entirely on the pleasure around her ass and in her mouth, she started to breath in through the nose as her sucking took on an urgent, head-bucking rhythm.

He stepped back for a moment, and she detached from him—all but her ever-bobbing head—with a reluctance that would have startled Gail when she got up this morning. But the Gail of that morning was already a memory; not one that Gail would recall often, at that.

“Will I always know how much you’ve changed me?” she tried to ask, but she couldn’t persuade herself to stop sucking for long enough that anything more than a series of muffled moans came out.

Trevor’s attention was elsewhere; his other hand was focused on her blouse, on the buttons against the creamy white fabric. Unbuttoning them one-handed seemed to give him a certain trouble, but it was clear just how much he was enjoying the urgency the chip had given her.

Already she could barely believe it was the chip. It seemed entirely too intense to be a new part of her, not something she’d grown up with, discovered herself, and nourished for herself with fantasy after fantasy in the privacy of night.

He finished unbuttoning her blouse and drew it aside, revealing her white cotton bra, and in other circumstances she might have been amused, not crestfallen, to see how disappointed his expression was.

He sighed. Nodded to himself. “Most of your underwear’s like this, huh?”

She mumbled something around his fingers and, with a reluctance she noted and gloried in, he withdrew his hand from her mouth. There was a loud, satisfying pop as the seal was broken, and a long strand of her own drool swung out with the motion of his fingers, arcing down to splash onto the bare upper slopes of her breasts.

The splash made her shiver with pleasure; perhaps, she thought, the chip had made her more sensitive to the touch of others? It would explain a lot…

“A little under half,” she said, “but enough that I can just wear the basic, cheap stuff for work.”

Trevor looked up at her, his attention sharpening. “Does that mean you have enough that you could wear your cheap stuff at home and the proper lingerie here?”

“Yes,” she said, a little surprised that he was even asking. “Of course.”

But he’d already turned away, was walking back toward the computer, and he was bending over to type.

She was watching for it this time, trying to catch the moment where things changed, and she did; felt the sudden surprising shiver at the base of her skull when the chip’s charge boosted a little, felt the tingle, and even felt her thoughts change.

God, she wasn’t wearing her good lingerie, and she was at work—how embarrassing.

“Um,” she said. “Would you mind if—“

“Yes, take them off,” Trevor said, and he grinned, and he was close by as she wriggled her wet panties down underneath her skirt, he was nearby and watching as she unsnapped her bra and slipped the straps over her shoulders, extricating the bra through a sleeve.

Somehow that made it more exciting, somehow that made it hot rather than embarrassing (or rather, some traitorous part of her mind pointed out, rather than just being embarrassing, as the heat of her arousal was definitely being stoked by her mistake, by being caught out, and by a superior—and Trevor was definitely a superior and if he hadn’t been, she was sure the chip would have made her think he was—but this was a situation where she had been put in her place.

She was excited by that, even if she wasn’t entirely sure why. She found herself biting her lip, excited and somehow nervous.

Trevor straightened up and looked back toward her, and he was smiling; her heart immediately felt lighter and she smiled in return.

“I’m glad you’ve got something sexy to show me tomorrow,” he said. “Just make sure it’s a habit from now on. Everyone here has their own ways of making sure they can put a smile on my face.” He tilted his head forward so that, if he wore glasses, he’d have been looking at her over the rims, and Gail again found herself feeling like someone small and insignificant, someone completely his to control.

She squirmed as he continued, “and you’re going to find yours, aren’t you?”

“Oh, yes,” she breathed excitedly.

This couldn’t just be the chip, she decided. It felt too real and too natural a part of her to be something the chip had edited.

“Can I—can I ask something?”

Trevor was back in his chair. His arms settled on the rests and he tilted his head back to look at her; his cock, never tucked away after fucking Doctor Adams, was now standing proud and excited. And that, on its own, made Gail both aroused and delighted to be the one standing there, her blouse open, one nipple peeking out into visibility, her (unsuitably bland) underwear discarded on the table where Trevor had fucked her boss. “Sure,” he said. “What’s on your mind?”

There was an amusement in his voice that was a crackle of excitement down her spine, and for a long moment after she heard it she couldn’t nerve herself enough to answer.

“Why do this?” she asked. “Why here? What’s the end game?”

She could see the surprised on his face after she asked, then she heard him laugh. He was delighted, she realised, with her expectations. But he clearly also thought there was something here she didn’t understand.

“I work here,” he said. “That’s why it’s here. What do you mean, end game?”

“Well…” She trailed off, suddenly very conscious that she wasn’t entirely sure what she meant herself. “You’re planning something bigger, right?”

Trevor looked at her for a long, long moment, then laughed. “Gail,” he said, and she caught him glancing back at the screen to check he’d remembered her name right, “I get paid more than anyone else at the Clinic. I have the easiest job in IT support because—well, you know what the biggest cause of IT crises at work is?”

Gail shook her head.

“It’s people doing stuff they shouldn’t,” he said. “Downloading suspicious programs just so they can sign their PDFs or change their fonts. Logging on to personal accounts that can get compromised. Visiting the wrong websites. Just plain forgetting that computers need maintenance and trying to make them do things they shouldn’t.”

Gail flushed. She wasn’t exactly innocent of any of this. She nodded.

“Well, you can’t do any of that anymore,” he said, and smiled—gently, like it was a shared joke that she was so thoroughly under his control. She smiled back, finding the humour in that as well as the heat.

She tried to imagine logging onto Twitter from her work machine, and found the idea was suddenly strangely uncomfortable. Like taking a mouthful of food that turned out to be sour when you weren’t expecting it.

“So my job is easy. My boss doesn’t care if I play games all day—well, that’s not quite true; she’d be very upset if I didn’t find the time to fuck her.” He laughed, and she smiled again, feeling her heart leap every time he smiled at her.

She was falling for him, she realised; again, it felt too natural, too right for her to believe the chip had anything to do with it.

Everything about the way he was and the way he acted pushed buttons in her head she’d never known that she had, and the result was that she was falling hard.

Not that she really felt she could tell him.

“I don’t need more than this,” he said. “And if I took more than this?” He shrugged, hands wiggling in a classic gesture of uncertainty. “It would be complicated,” he said. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m pretty sure I could figure things out. But the more people I chip, doing more things, the more admin I need to do.”

His smile was lopsided. “I didn’t design a control chip so I had to do more work, Gail. I designed it so that I could make my own little place where everything works the way I want it to.”

She nodded again, feeling somehow silly. Had she wanted him to have some soaring, mastermind ambition? Wasn’t it better that he enjoy what he had, that he be able to take pleasure in his world?

And yet she had assumed something else. Had feared something else. No—had feared he was someone else.

The relief was a physical thing. What the chip did not allow Gail to realise was that it was entirely manufactured; that what she wanted Trevor to be was something he had defined, to make it easy for her to be happy to be under his control.

If she had realised that, she would still have believed it. Still felt how she felt. But she would have chipped away at the question. Wouldn’t have been able to stop herself.

“Come here,” Trevor said, and he was grinning, and she couldn’t help but grin back as she obeyed. Walking forward, she left her underwear behind her in a pile, felt an exciting slickness where her thighs rubbed against each other.

She’d been so focused on their conversation that she’d forgotten how horny she was. Not how horny he was—her eyes had only left his erection for moments at a time, repeatedly flicking up to take in his expression, but her attention had repeatedly drifted back to his cock.

She realised that was why she was being beckoned in and, in response, she decided she was going to try to slink. Her hips began to sway and roll. The trick, she discovered, was to place one foot criss-crossing the other, and the heels she was wearing amplified everything.

She only had about twelve steps to master it, so perhaps there was more to refine; she made a mental note to practice—but his eyes locked in on her hips immediately, and on the way the pleats of her skirt rose and fell as her hips swayed. She could see the effect she was having on him, and a wave of new arousal and pleasure washed over her.

The chip wanted her to enjoy Trevor enjoying her, she realised; but she couldn’t think of a good reason not to let it.

Not while he was already looking at her like that and her cock was out and (she was incredibly aware) her panties lay several feet behind her.

Trevor’s hands had closed on the ends of his armrests. Gail drank that in, delighted at the fact his self-control was being tested by her effect on him. She shimmied her shoulders a little, until her open blouse and missing bra didn’t just hint at her nipples but showed them proudly.

Trevor lifted up the armrests, folding them back, and reached out with one hand. Catching her by the hem of her skirt, he tugged suddenly, and she took another swaying step forward; by then he had his hand under her skirt, warm, long fingers cupping her pussy. She was wet against the soft flesh between thumb and forefinger, wet and hot and sticky and needy, and when he drew his hand closer to him she was tugged along with it like a puppet, hanging on the strings of her chip.

He pulled again, this time forward and down, and the tip of his cock brushed against the wet lips of her pussy. Gail shuddered with excitement, her eyes rolling back, and even biting her lower lip her moan was more than audible, her need was clearly on show for Trevor to enjoy.

His hand went away; the delicious pressure of his grip was released and her eyes opened wider for a moment, sad at the loss of the contact, but then she met his gaze and he nodded, his hands settling above her skit on her hips.

She slipped a hand under her own skirt and took him by the shaft, guiding him in as she planted her feet and squatted down onto him, letting him fill her, the held breath of anticipation escaping her lips almost as a whine.

He moved his hands around her, slipping them under her skirt again, grasping her by the buttocks, and she reached her arms forward to brace them around the back of his chair headrest, bringing her bare breasts into easy reach of his lips and tongue.

Trevor gave a satisfied grunt and her heart swelled again. It was amazing how these little things now constituted encouragement enough to drive her wild.

She gripped tighter around his cock, heard the intake of breath from his surprise, and she began to pump herself up and down his shaft, smiling down on him, feeling every moment hornier and needier and better and better.

The chip was warm against the back of her neck and that almost felt like more of the same, like a better reason to be delighted. One by one she tucked her feet closer in against the base of his chair, giving her a better angle to ride his cock, her calves and her thighs giving her all the power and precision she needed to offer him her very best.

Every time, as she rose back up, the tips of her heels clacked on the tile floor, and it became a rhythm she could use to fuck him better.

She couldn’t have explained why it was so important to fuck him better. She knew that it was—to do the very best she possibly could for him, to give him the best ride she was capable of—but this was just a fact lodged in her brain, and it wasn’t one that appeared to have any attached logic or reason.

It simply was, and that was all that mattered.

His lips were on her breasts, his cock was in her pussy, his chip was in her head. Everything was electric, everything was vibrant, everything was wonderful. Even if she had no idea why she felt that way.

The more he touched her, and especially the more little noises that escaped him in spite of himself—grunts, groans, and moans—the more lively she became.

She rode him as hard and as fast as she could, trying to get his eager panting breath to sync up every time with the beating of her high heels against the tile flooring.

There was an urgency and importance to fucking Trevor that she’d never had before, and as she felt him come closer and closer to cumming she understood why Doctor Adams, too, wanted him to fuck her as often as he was willing.

Doctor Adams helped patients, made them feel better than they had in years, helped them to put themselves back together psychologically and still, fucking Trevor was the best thing she did with her life. Gail felt like she understood that now.

When he came, she arched backward from the waist, all the way down the spine, throwing her head back, mouth open for a scream of passion, but the chip had muted her again and she shuddered in helpless passion and ecstasy without making a single sound.

“So tell me, Gail,” Trevor asked. “What do you want?”

She almost had an answer, and then she had nothing. There was a strange sense of vertigo, like she was falling away, until her worldview corrected itself and she realised that her self had fallen away, dropped out by the chip.

Her mouth hung open, but there was no thought in her head to convert into a sentence.

Her body had frozen entirely, her hip delicately cocked, one hand lifting her skirt to keep it from being soaked in the cocktail of his and her juices as she moved to wipe it down. She was stood with one foot standing normally, one on tiptoe, and her hair was the only thing moving as the last of its momentum settled until it, too, waited unmoving.

Gail was vaguely, uncertainly, aware that the chip was fully active, that where her thoughts should go there was a blinking cursor at the start of an empty line.

Trevor’s question evidently came with a programmed response, though she wouldn’t be able to follow the logic to understand that until after the chip dropped down to a lower power level once again.

She wouldn’t think until then.

With a smile, Trevor turned to his keyboard and began to type.

I want Trevor to be happy.

I want to ride Trevor’s cock as much as I can.

I want to suck Trevor’s cock as much as I can.

I want Trevor to bend me over a desk and fuck me as much as he wants.

I want to be a good employee.

I want to focus so much on work and Trevor that it’s all I think about in my off hours.

I want to be a decorative skirt for Trevor.

I want to make Trevor hard whenever he sees me.

I want to fit in at the Clinic.

I want to enjoy my time at work.

I want to build my collection of skirts.

I want the Clinic to thrive.

I want to dream of Trevor’s cock on my days off.

I want to be used by Trevor however he wants.

I want to be promoted into Trevor’s inner harem.

If I get what I want I will always be happy.

“I want Trevor to be happy,” she said. “I want to ride Trevor’s cock as much as I can. I want to suck Trevor’s cock as much as I can.”

Little by little, the cursor in Gail’s mind spilled Trevor’s desires into Gail’s mind, and she felt them take root, felt them lock into place.

“I want to be a good employee. I want to focus so much on work and Trevor that it’s all I think about in my off hours. I want to be a decorative skirt for Trevor.”

The biggest changes the chip had made locked down, one by one, forming an unbreakable web of devotion—to Trevor, to the Clinic, to her work colleagues—built up piece by piece.

“I want to make Trevor hard whenever he sees me. I want to fit in at the Clinic. I want to enjoy my time at work.”

She could feel her brain warping, feel her mind changing, and it felt different to the few things she’d tracked from the chip before; there was no normality to these. They didn’t feel like she’d always believed them or like she’d just changed her mind.

“I want to build my collection of skirts. I want the Clinic to thrive. I want to dream of Trevor’s cock on my days off.”

She knew these were artificial, knew these were new, but somehow that made them more important; they had a weight that nothing else did. Even the compulsion to chip other employees wearing skirts and high heeled boots didn’t carry this weight; that was more a natural instinct, a feature of the way her brain worked now her thoughts looped through the chip, the same way she couldn’t make a sound above a certain level.

“I want to be used by Trevor however he wants. I want to be promoted into Trevor’s inner harem. If I get what I want I will always be happy.”

These were, instead, rules. Rules she would follow and obey, and her devotion to those rules would give her everything she wanted.

Trevor tapped the Enter key, and she was released from her moment of paralysis. She calmly wiped herself clean and looked back up at him, smiling.

“By all logic I should be mad with you,” she said.

He just grinned. “And?”

“And… thank you,” she said. “Thank you for giving me a better perspective on life.”

“Your work-life balance is about to change,” he said.

“Oh, yes.” She grinned back at him.

“I’m usually here about an hour early,” he said. “If you’re waiting with a coffee, that’ll give you a head start.”

“I’d like that,” she said quietly. “Will there be anything else?”

She saw him consider for a while and then nod. “Yeah,” he said. “When you pass her desk, send Jasmine in with some Gatorade.”

“Of course,” Gail nodded, but she hesitated, a question in her mind, unsure of whether or not to ask it.

Trevor chuckled. “You’re right,” he said. “I could just push a button and have her walk in. Sometimes I do. But doing it this way reminds people that the way they are now is built into the world they live in.”

Gail nodded. Impulsively, she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, then turned and walked out of his office.