The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Until two weeks ago, I hadn’t been one to masturbate very often. My last two weeks of practice had more than caught me up; I was fast becoming a verified pro.

But I sat in front of my boss, touching myself as he carefully ignored me, it was like I’d never done it before. Like I’d forgotten exactly what buttons to press.

In the women’s bathroom, I’d gotten so fast at it. If I got myself off quickly, I could get off again before returning to work.

And again, and again, and again...

It was no wonder someone had caught me. Some days I probably spent more time stroking myself than I had at my desk working.

But as my long fingers stroked my needy clit, I couldn’t work it out. It felt like something was...missing.

It didn’t make any sense. I’d gotten off by myself so, so many times. Why couldn’t I do it now?

And then Mr. Peterson turned the page, and a loud moan involuntarily left my mouth.

Oh, fuck.

I wanted him to watch.

I knew that I shouldn’t. I knew that he shouldn’t. He was a busy man; he had work to do. I was already taking up so much of his time with my...punishments.

I wanted to be his good girl.

But when he’d turned from the analytics report to the quarterly breakdowns, just for a moment...I thought he’d been about to glance at me.

I thought he’d been about to look at me, touching myself directly in front of him.

And at the thought, the warmth returned.

All of a sudden, it was like my hand knew exactly where to go, exactly how to bring me the most pleasure. As I slipped two fingers between my slick lips, I imagined Mr. Peterson’s eyes on me, imagined my boss watching me as I masturbated in front of him.

He must have wanted to. Right? If his conduct in my first week had been any indication, I knew that Mr. Peterson was at least a little bit attracted to me.

And if he didn’t want to watch...why hadn’t he taken me up on my offer to turn my chair around?

No! I mentally slapped back the thoughts. Sure, what we’d been doing had confused my body, but that was my cross to bear. Here I was, projecting my own perverse thoughts onto my sweet, innocent boss.

He was a good guy. He knew that I was married…and he was my boss. Those were two lines I knew he’d never cross, no matter how much I wanted him to.

Not, of course, that I wanted him to.

No, I was just...relieving tension.

In front of my boss. By getting off.

Right after he’d spanked me.

Before I could focus too hard on that thought process, Mr. Peterson turned another page, and I could have sworn that his eyes flicked up and looked at me—just for a second.

But a second was all it took.

“Mmmm, yess...” I moaned, as the warmth began to swell once more. My hand was rubbing my clit, my other hand had made its way up to my neck, where it was was resting lightly, and I could feel the leather of Mr. Peterson’s office chairs beneath my bare, naked ass.

I was so close. I felt like I’d been close to cumming since the moment I’d seen Mr. Peterson’s email, but at the idea of his eyes on me...I was so, so close.

Several minutes passed as I desperately touched myself in front of my boss, hungry for his gaze.

Here’s something you should know about me. I have...I guess you could call it a streak of mischief. Rebelliousness.

Sometimes—just sometimes—I like to be a little bit naughty.

I wanted to be a good girl for my boss, of course. I wanted to obey.

But in that moment, my wild streak flared up, and I wondered if I could...attract his attention.

Mr. Peterson’s a good man. And if he heard me moan, maybe he’d misinterpret it. Maybe, in his distracted state, he’d think I was in pain.

Maybe he’d look up.

If he looked up, I could cum. I knew I could. I wanted him to look at me as I touched myself in front of him.

I needed it.

“Ohh...” I gasped softly, making a sound that could easily have been interpreted as pleasure or pain. “Oh!”

My eyes never left his form as he worked. His hand—his strong, talented hand, which featured in so many of my fantasies—continued dutifully cross-checking the work, looking for typos.

He wouldn’t find any, of course. Of that, I was sure.

“God!” I shuddered, louder than before.

Nothing.

“Oh, fuck,” I said, hoping that no one was passing Mr. Peterson’s door at the moment. “Oh!“

He didn’t move. My boss was being infuriatingly stoic, unmoving as a lighthouse on the shore.

“Oh!” I repeated, my voice practically a wail. “Oh, Mr. Peterson!!!“

That did it. At the sound of his name (men! They’re all the same...) Mr. Peterson looked up.

He looked up, and locked eyes with me.

I wasn’t sure what I’d been hoping for. My legs were spread, my hand a blur between them. I guess I’d been hoping for a look of lust as he stared straight at my most private area, exposed for him to look at.

Instead, he stared straight at me, a hint of a smile dancing around his eyes.

I froze. You know when you’re playing keepaway with a dog, and they finally get the toy you’ve been teasing them with? They don’t know what to do with it. They’re in it for the game, not the result.

In that moment, I realized I was the same way. I had my boss’s attention...and now I didn’t know what to do with it.

Until he nodded.

All of a sudden, the warmth came rushing back in waves. When Mr. Peterson spanked me, it started where his hand made contact and slowly rippled out to the rest of my body.

This time, it was like I was an island who’d just been hit by a tsunami. I felt like every inch of my body was soaked with warmth. As if I wasn’t in control, my hand twitched—brushed over my clit, incredibly gently—and I felt my orgasm beginning to hit.

“Oh my god...” I said again, this time completely involuntarily. “Oh, Mr. Peterson!“

My hips began thrusting as a climax rolled over me. My pussy felt so wet, and so warm. I’d never felt like this before—not with my husband, not while alone in the bathroom stall—never.

I gasped and twitched as I came. It was one of the most intense orgasms I’d ever had—the type where you feel like every inch of you is cumming, like all of your muscles are tensing up at once. And when I was done, they all relaxed at the same time—my entire body collapsed onto Mr. Peterson’s chair.

And the fucker just put his head down, and returned to work.

It took several minutes for me to regain my breath. I felt like I’d just run a marathon, or bench-lifted a truck. My knees were shaky as I leaned forward.

“Will that be enough?” Mr. Peterson asked coolly, and I felt a flash of irrational rage.

I’m normally pretty in check with my emotions—sometimes my kids joke that I’m their robot Mom—but something about his offhand attitude pissed me off. I’d just cum in front of him—something that I hadn’t done in front of anyone but my husband in as long as I could remember—and he was treating it like it was just another part of my job.

“Yes,” I said sullenly, and my boss’s brow furrowed.

“Amber? Are you okay?”

The gentle way he was checking in on me caused a wave of guilt to pass throughout my totally exhausted body, and I realized how completely unfair I was being.

This wasn’t a sexual thing. Sure, I’d just cum in front of him, but not for sexual reasons. I’d disobeyed company policy, he’d been forced to punish me, and my body had needed release.

It was as simple as that.

It absolutely wasn’t his fault. When Tracy had first suggested I use the women’s restroom, she’d explicitly told me it was wrong, and I’d done it anyway.

I’d done wrong. It was my fault.

And then I’d been audacious enough to blame him for it.

My heart sank as I realized what I’d done:

I hadn’t been his good girl.

I wanted to be my boss’s good girl. More than anything.

“I’m sorry, sir,” I said, a single tear rolling down my cheek. God...I could count on one hand the number of times I’d cried this decade and now here I was, embarrassing myself even further in front of a man who’d done nothing but try to help me.

Of course he hadn’t engaged. He was trying to keep things as professional as he could.

He was trying to keep things professional, while I sat in front of him and masturbated.

I guess one of us had to.

“It’s okay,” he said with a smile. “Take as long as you want.”

My eyes widened as I realized—he mustn’t have noticed my tear, and had completely misinterpreted the situation.

He thought I wanted to get off in front of him again.

Which, I had to admit, was tempting...the orgasm that had just wracked my body was unlike anything I’d ever experienced.

But no, I couldn’t. I certainly shouldn’t.

After all, there was always tomorrow.

“Thank you, sir,” I smiled, trying to act as though my moment of weakness hadn’t occurred. “I should probably get back to work.”

“Very well,” he said with a nod. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Of course, sir,” I said, returning to my desk and putting my headphones back in.

That night, I don’t think Aaden knew what hit him. I’m sure he’d noticed that I’d been more...interested than normal.

We certainly don’t have a bad sex life, I want to make that clear. Sometimes there are peaks and sometimes there are valleys, but every couple goes through that.

Ever since my punishment, it had been the peakest of all peaks. I doubt more than two days had gone by without me tackling him to the bed, and insisting he allow me to ride him.

That night, the kids had barely been tucked in before I was undoing his belt. I don’t know what he thought of me—I must have looked like a woman in heat. My eyes flashed with lust at the sight of his erection—I would often coat his cock with saliva before sitting on top of him, but tonight I skipped that.

I was more than wet enough.

It was no more than a few minutes before he was cumming. Aaden doesn’t last long at the best of times, and my actions were clearly exciting to him. He soon unloaded inside me, filling me with a pale imitation of the warmth I felt while in my boss’s office.

“Again,” I gasped. “Please, honey. Get hard for me. I want to feel you inside me again.”

“Hold your horses,” Aaden said, a dopey grin on his face. I’m sure he had no idea what had come over me—and he never could.

Not that I was doing anything wrong, of course.

I unbuttoned my work shirt, and threw my bra to the side. If either of the kids had woken up, we would’ve had a real struggle to explain what was happening.

But in the moment, I didn’t care.

I was more turned on than I’d ever been, and I needed to feel Aaden inside me. I needed to feel close to my husband, who I loved.

And more than anything, I needed to get off.

“Fuck!” I groaned.

“Sshh,” Aaden said.

“Oh, god, yes!“

Each and every time I came, the same image was in my head.

Mr. Peterson’s brown eyes—although that day, I thought I’d seen a flick of green?—staring at me, as I came long and loudly in his office.

I knew it broke the rule, but I was so worked up, I didn’t care. I’d spent the rest of the day processing the monthly close, Gio’s strange music playing in my ears, trying to reconcile what I’d just done...how it had felt.

My crush on Mr. Peterson had been a factor, I was sure of that. You know how it is when you’re attracted to someone—they can be the dorkiest person in the room, but you still get aflutter when they turn their attention to you.

It had been that, magnified by a thousand.

The spanking had heightened my nerves, as it always did. And the presence of my boss, sitting in front of me, steadfastly ignoring me...it had just served to stoke the fires.

But none of that explained the intense connection I’d felt when he looked at me. When I’d cum.

If I’d felt like I did that day the week before, I likely would have spent the entire day in the restroom. It was like my nether-regions were on fire, and the only way to put it out was to cum again and again and again and again...

But I couldn’t. I was Mr. Peterson’s good girl.

The only other option, of course, was return to Mr. Peterson’s office and ask him if I could get off in front of him again. God, why hadn’t I taken him up on his offer?

I couldn’t do that. He’d think I was...well, he’d think I was exactly who I was.

Not that it was me, of course. I wasn’t turned on. Just my body.

Just my poor, confused, irrepressibly horny body. My tits, my clit, my throbbing cunt.

And so by the time I got home, I was like a pressure cooker that had been boiling all day, ready to explode.

Fortunately, I don’t think Aaden was complaining.

Finally, after several hours, Aaden pushed me away. He’d cum three times, and I felt like I’d had more orgasms than the rest of my life put together.

A part of me was worried that he would ask what had gotten into me. I had no idea what I’d answer. I couldn’t tell him about Mr. Peterson, of that I was certain. What we were doing was completely normal, and professional, but Aaden...just wouldn’t understand.

I just knew it.

Fortunately, my loving husband has never been a particularly curious man, and so after we was finally done, he rolled over (we’d moved to the bed after round two) and left me to lie in the wet patch and think.

What was happening? Had being spanked awoken something in me, some deeply-hidden desire that I’d never even thought to explore? Intellectually, I knew that what we were doing was just perfectly standard corporate punishment...but my body clearly wasn’t interpreting it that way.

And wanting him to watch me as I came? I’d never even considered that I might have an exhibitionistic streak. And frankly, at the age of thirty-two, it wasn’t something I was particularly excited to learn about. It wasn’t like I could sneak around like a teenager, having sex in parked cars or while watching the latest Spider-Man film at the cinema.

As my evening with Aaden had shown, it was certainly possible for me to cum without being watched, but still. Something about it worried me.

And most peculiarly of all—even after the most intense orgasm of my life, even after literally fucking my husband to exhaustion, even after cumming and cumming and cumming again...

I was still horny.

A part of me wanted to explore these thoughts, see if I could work out what specifically was bothering me about them...but it was late, and I was starting to get tired, so instead I simply moved my hand between my legs, closed my eyes, and pictured Mr. Peterson, sitting behind his desk, staring directly into my eyes...