The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Quick Summary: Mariah can’t stop herself from embracing her inner cunt. There’s outside influence, of course, but Mariah is convinced she can stop herself whenever she wants.

Quick Notes: Many thanks to Gander, whose recent “Cat and Mouse” reminded me how fun these sorts of stories can be. Comments, as always, are welcome .

Spiral: Edge

by Bad Penny

She should stop. She could stop. All she had to do was...stop. Stand up. Get dressed. Walk out. Tell Mister Clarke to fuck off. Then go back to work and tell Mrs. Clarke to fuck off. Then Miss Ryan and the others. She could tell them all to fuck off. And that would end it.

But then...then...Mariah’s breath caught as she twisted the dildo just right. Then Mrs. Clarke’s friends wouldn’t give her beautifully ridged dildos to keep her cunt nice and full for the rest of the day. And she wouldn’t be spending her lunch hour masturbating in a cheap motel room, masturbating for the camera, expertly manned by Mister Clarke, and for Miss Ryan—if she ever showed up.

The motel room’s door swung open. The slice of sunlight made Mariah squint, but she saw well enough to make out the familiar figure of Miss Ryan. Mariah moaned and wiggled forward on the chair. The chair’s arms dug into the back of her knees, and her hips burned from keeping her legs spread so wide for so long, but the discomfort only fueled her lust.

“Please, ma’am. Please. Let me show—oh god—let me show you how,” Mariah babbled before Miss Ryan was fully inside the room. Mariah squeezed one breast with her free hand, rolled the erect nipple between finger and thumb. “How thankful I am for your present.”

And as disgusting as it was, she was thankful. Mariah closed her eyes, whimpering as the familiar tug of disgust and self-loathing fed into her shame. And then as her shame went straight to her cunt and let her come.

“Please.” She forced her eyes open, ducked her head down to lick at her sweat-slicked breast. Fuck she was wet. Wet enough to soak the chair, and the dildo slid in and out so, so easily. If she wasn’t careful, it would just slide right out of her hand, and—oh god—wouldn’t that be humiliating, crawling around the motel room floor after it?

She came again, a quick, small orgasm, and felt the familiar flush of shame. The scent of her juices mingled with her sweat, made the room—made her—smell like a needy cunt.

“Please, ma’am. You gave me such a lovely dildo.” It was torture holding the dildo, now thoroughly coated, at the entrance to her cunt, its head teasing her swollen, aching labia. “It feels so—” she thrust it in, so deep, so full, and moaned, cunt clenching greedily around its length, fingers tugging and pinching her nipple, head tilted back. “So good,” she crooned.

“How long has she been doing this?” Miss Ryan asked Mister Clarke, and being ignored so callously made Mariah groan.

“Good twenty minutes.”

“She’s certainly enjoying herself.”

“You did give her a nice toy.”

“And she just loves showing off for the camera.”

“Yes!” Mariah yelled. Yes, she loved showing off. Yes, she loved embracing this part of herself. Yes, she loved being a cunt. “Please.”

“You realize what you look like,” Miss Ryan said from the door. She was leaning against it, and while Mariah couldn’t clearly see her face, she could feel the slap of Miss Ryan’s cruel little smirk.

“I’m a slutty little cunt, ma’am.” Mariah’s hips arched up. So close. So very close to coming. To really coming, a wave of vision-sparkling incoherence that would leave no question about her willingness and absolute joy.

And that frightened her even as she reached for it. Each one of those orgasms only reminded her of how wildly her life was spiraling out of control. Before meeting Mrs. Clarke, she was never...never such a slut. She could stop—she should stop—before she reached the point where Mariah disappeared and all that was left was need.

But fulfilling the need felt so, so good.

“Please, ma’am. Let me come. Let me show you how—ahhh—how much...please. Oh please oh...”

“Go ahead, cunt. Come.”

Mariah came. Loudly. And that wild part of her slipped further out of her control.

* * *

Six months. It was actually a shock she lasted so long, but when she was summoned into Mister Lowry’s office, Mariah knew what was coming. HEA was a small company, a family company, and ever since...well, ever since Mrs. Clarke joined the company, Mariah’s actions had been far from wholesome.

And thanks to the videos and website, her activities were far from private. She clenched, letting the fullness in her cunt and ass anchor her to her need. She glanced over at Miss Ryan, who flashed her a quick, knowing smirk, and a small orgasm rippled through Mariah. She both hated and loved Miss Ryan for cornering her in the ladies’ room earlier and bending her over the sink to work a thick dildo into her cunt and a plug in her ass.

“A little present to help you through your meeting,” Miss Ryan had said, squeezing Mariah’s breast. “To help you focus.”

Focus, right. Mariah could hardly concentrate, and when the summons to Mister Lowry’s office finally came, well, she did, too. She could feel everyone watching he as she slunk into Mister Lowry’s office. She bit her lower lip to keep from whimpering, but there was nothing she could do to stop the fire in her cunt.

Mrs. Clarke was already in the office, standing at Mister Lowry’s left shoulder. Mariah met her eyes briefly, shivered at the knowing smile, and had to look away before she whimpered or moaned. Mrs. Clarke was going to humiliate her. Or rather, Mrs. Clarke was going to let her humiliate herself.

Mister Lowry looked up with a frown and motioned her in. “Close the door behind you.”

She did, then sat gingerly in front of his desk, keeping her knees and thighs firmly pressed together. She managed to keep from wiggling so the dildo and plug rubbed just right, but it was hard. So hard. She was already so wet, embarrassingly so, and the way Mister Lowry looked her over, his expression pinched, made Mariah think he could smell her.

And Mrs. Clarke! The way she just stood there, impeccably professional, not a strand of her dark hair out of place, not a loose thread on her red suit, not a run in her black nylons, not a smudge on her red pumps. Whereas Mariah looked a little...rumpled from her recent encounter with Miss Ryan in the women’s restroom. She clasped her hands together on her lap and tried to look meek. She liked her job, really, but she liked...she liked being a cunt, too.

Her whole being throbbed. She liked it too much.

Mister Lowry fanned out a series of photographs on his desk. “These are of you.”

She leaned forward. Yes, the photos were of her. No, they weren’t the sort a reasonable person would want an employer to see. Of course, the shots were carefully cropped so that she was the only identifiable person. Mrs. Clarke, Miss Ryan, and the others were never anything more than a leg or an arm, or, in the case of one of the photos, a pair of delicious thighs.

She glanced up at Mister Lowry, then made the mistake of looking at Mrs. Clarke. Oh god, Mrs. Clarke’s eyes were hungry, evil, and Mariah knew this was her last chance to stop this. To tell that woman and all her friends to fuck off. It would not be enough to save her job, but it would let her leave Mister Lowry’s office as Mariah, and as long as she could do that, she might be able to rebuild something approximating her former reputation.

“Nothing to say?” Mister Lowry asked. The contempt in his tone made Mariah blush, and the shame strummed down her spine and did such delightful things in her cunt.

She didn’t trust herself to speak. It would come out as a moan, and then she’d throw herself on the desk and beg for her job.

“You realize such conduct is...unbecoming of an HEA employee.”

It wasn’t a question, but he paused like he was waiting for an answer, so Mariah nodded, her breath shallow.

“And you also realize that your work performance has deteriorated these past few months.” He glanced up at Mrs. Clarke for confirmation.

“She’s been on probation for three months,” Mrs. Clarke said, and while she sounded like a regretful supervisor, Mariah heard the smug, satisfied undertone. “Unfortunately, I have not seen any improvement even though I have spoken to her many times about what I expect from her.”

Mariah felt her blush deepen. Oh, yes, Mrs. Clarke had spoken to her many times. Said she was such a good little cunt, and let’s see how long she could last pretending to be something she wasn’t. That would be fun, wouldn’t it?

“Nothing to say?” Mister Lowry repeated.

What could she say? That something happened when she met Mrs. Clarke? That she’d changed somehow? And whose fault was that? Mrs. Clarke’s for saying such awful, awful things, doing such awful, awful things, having her husband and friends do such awful, awful things? Or hers for begging for it? Welcoming it. Relishing it.

“I don’t...” She glanced up at him. “Is there anything I can do? Please.” She wasn’t quite successful in blinking back her tears. “I need this job.”

“You should have kept that in mind three months ago when you were placed on probation.”

“Please,” she leaned forward. “Demote me, then. Put me in the copy room. Just please don’t fire me. I’ll do anything to stay.”

Mister Lowry’s expression shifted into a disgusted sneer. “What do you mean by that?”

“She means,” Mrs. Clarke said in that oh-so-reasonable tone of hers that got Mariah in trouble in the first place, “that she is willing to exchange sexual favors in return for continued employment.”

Mariah looked away. Yes, that was it. Only...only what she really wanted was, “Please.” She whimpered and began unbuttoning her blouse. “I’ve got a dildo in my cunt and a plug in my ass, and it’s not enough. Please, let me suck your cock, sir. Use me. Make me leave knowing I’m not good enough to keep my job.”

There was a long, embarrassing pause. Then Mister Lowry said, “Security will escort you out.”

“Oh, John,” Mrs. Clarke said, still using that oh-so-reasonable tone. “Let’s not embarrass the girl any further. It’s what she wants.” She squeezed his shoulder, her polished nails a splash of red against his crisp white shirt. “I’ll see her out.”

“Yes,” Mister Lowry said slowly. “Yes, you’re right, of course.”

Of course. Mrs. Clarke was always right. Mariah rose and didn’t bother refastening the buttons on her blouse. What was the point? Everyone knew she was a cunt. Mrs. Clarke said so.

“How humiliating, being denied like that,” Mrs. Clarke whispered as they left the office. “You must have been looking forward to having him fuck your throat.”

Mariah whimpered and nodded.

“Or maybe,” Mrs. Clarke lowered her tone, made it velvety, seductive, and dangerous, “you wanted to tittyfuck him. And then have him call security to escort you out, all defeated and covered in come. Oh, but that wouldn’t be enough, would it? You’d be begging the guards to fuck you the entire way out, wouldn’t you? And maybe if you were good, they’d indulge you in the parking lot.”

Mariah pictured it. Felt it. Yes, that’s exactly what she wanted to happen. That’s what should have happened. Mariah moaned and came, and it didn’t matter that she was in the middle of the office, that everyone, not just Mrs. Clarke’s friends, could see her. And it didn’t matter that this ended her.

It felt so good. And when people started whispering—doesn’t she have any self-control? Self-respect? Decency?—Mariah came again.

“That’s a good cunt,” Mrs. Clarke crooned. “Come again for me now.”

Mariah came again. Loudly. Mrs. Clarke’s hand was as hot as a brand on her arm as she dragged Mariah towards the door. “Why?” Mariah asked, panting.

“Ah yes, why. You cunts always get around to asking that. Usually at this point. Yet none ever ask how.” Mrs. Clarke shoved her outside. “Why? No reason, other than it’s fun. Don’t you agree?”

Mariah trembled. “Yes,” she breathed, and the truth spread throughout her entire body, spread and filled her and released her in a perfect moment of bliss. Yes, the cunt agreed.