The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

When he got to the Papayas five minutes later Trina was already standing at the bench—dressed for his pleasure, it seemed, in a snug tee with a bright artist rendition of a sailboat on a moonlit lake across the breasts, and a tight blue satin panty.

Jesus! She wasn’t even wearing any pants. Pedro looked around nervously. As luck would have it, the Papayas and the janitorial station were little-trafficked this time of day. A glance at the counter at the back of the store revealed that the sexy clerks were talking behind the counter, paying the spectacle no mind whatsoever. Pedro felt like he’d gone through the looking glass.

“Come with me,” he ordered. Trina jumped. She trembled as though in fear of being struck.

Clutching her upper arm like an arresting cop, Pedro led Trina down the hall and through the first door on the left, to his janitor closet. She padded off on her bare feet, hugging herself in distress.

When they got to the janitor closet Trina was still hugging herself. He placed her erect but with her head down in the middle of the room, her feet together and pointed, her arms crossed in front of her breasts.

He shut the door behind him and flipped off the lights. For a second everything was dark.

“Sir? Where are you? I can’t see anything.”

“Where am I? I’m trying to decide if I should come at you and choke you till you’re blue, that’s where I am.”

Pedro felt he could smell a sudden gush of fear in the air. It smelled metallic, like adrenaline.

“What? I followed your instructions! I came when you called me, like a good dog!” She sobbed. “Please don’t attack me!”

“Don’t run out in public half-naked! You’ll attract unwanted attention!”

“I’m sorry!” Trina was on the verge of hysterics. “I was in the changing room when you called. When the phone calls me I have to answer right away, I don’t have any choice.”

Pedro flipped on the light and stepped up close to her. He yelled in her face.

“You weak, silly bitch!”

She shrank, turning her knees in toward each other and clutching her shoulders. A sob escaped her.

“You’re so scared,” taunted Pedro. “Are you gonna wet yourself?” He ran a palm along her side from her slim waist down over her hip, where it flicked the narrow band of her panties. Then down over her thigh, which was jiggling as she shook with anxiety.

“Turn around and put your hands flat on the table,” he ordered flatly, and Trina complied, bending slightly at the waist like a suspect bent over a car to be frisked. Which was fortuitous since this was precisely what Pedro planned to do next.

He didn’t dive right in, though. He surveyed his young captive, her slim, shapely bottom presented to him. She cocked to one hip, trembling but holding her stationary pose. She lowered her head, her shoulders slouching and her back arching. He couldn’t see her face for the moment but imagined, based on the carriage of her nearly naked body, that she was probably downcast and ashamed.

He ran his hands in parallel tracks along the outside of her bare thighs, testing the smooth warmth of her skin, and then cupping his hands on her hips just beneath the waistband of her bikini bottoms.

“Are you searching me?” she asked sadly. “I’m almost naked! I couldn’t possibly be hiding anything!”

“Settle down, sweetass,” said Pedro, leering openly at the rump in question. “I’ll ask the questions.” One hand to the small of her back as the other slid around to the inside of her thigh, inches from her vulnerable girlslit.

“Why did you say what you did before about it not being allowed to put things in you?” Pedro asked Trina’s creamy ass.

“They say they’re saving me.”

“Who?”

The hand on the small of Trina’s back wandered, seemingly of its own accord, over the curve of her right rumpcheek, the other suddenly and bruskly cupping her soft pouch. Through her panties and his thin glove he could feel her crinkly pussyfur, and her delicate lips, so tender.

“Oook!” Trina ejaculated when the foreign hand closed over her delicate girlhood. Her hips bucked with a quiver of her pantied hindglobes. Maybe she’d never been felt up between her legs before.

Pedro rubbed Trina’s crotch with broad strokes of his palm, then slapped her roundly on her bottom.

“Who?” he repeated.

“The aliens,” was Trina’s reluctant, unhelpful response. Pedro paused. Space aliens, she meant? Given the amazing events of the past few days he supposed anything was possible. But little green men? In any case, anyone capable of creating technology to control people’s minds was most likely best not messed with, so he supposed he should assume Trina was telling the truth—though it was possible, too, he mused, that she had fabricated the warning to keep from being totally violated. But the cell phone trance actually seemed to compel her into honestly. Hell, if secret forces had chosen to co-opt her in this way it was probably dangerous for him to tinker around with her at all. But having her body here in front of him, so young and smooth and warm and very nearly bared, there was no way he’d stop now. And there were ways he could get off on her without sticking it in her.

“Stand up,” he said, patting her condescendingly on her bottom. She obeyed, crossing her hands in front of her chest.

“Turn around,” he continued, and she slowly turned in place on her padding bare feet. Her eyes were lowered, her mouth pursed in a petulant but understated frown—she seemed afraid or unable to show her displeasure plainly—and her forarms clutched protectively over her sloping young titties.

“Put your hands behind your back,” commanded Pedro, and though Trina whimpered and shook her head, knowing full well where all of this was leading, she did as he commanded.

Now he was gonna prime his pump. Bending at the waist, he scooped up Trina’s unshod chest balloons in his gristled palms, studying their niveous smoothness with his fingers and eyes. He kneaded them gently but insistently, so that her nipples protruded as he squeezed her tender breasts. When he kissed her right-side bulblet, a soggy, tonguey, open-mouth suck that wetted the slope of her boob and left him tasting perfume and skinsalt, she shivered coldly, a tiny slip of a schoolmaid with a totally skeevy case of the heebie-jeebies.

“Ugh,” she grimaced. A catch went through her body as Pedro spread a slimy tongue across her chest, running over the slope of her bulging milkbag, her warm sternum, and then to the pliant swell of her other tit. Meanwhile he clutched both of her mounds gently and jiggled them as he licked and sucked her.

“Tasty morsels,” he muttered, more to himself than to her, as he sucked her boobs. His cock, which had begun to stiffen when he’d yelled at her, for some reason, was now pressing against the lap of his soiled uniform, and he had to reach down and reposition himself. He was saving her pink nipples but now he closed his lips over her nub, drawing it into his mouth. She quaked like a jumpy rabbit.

“Feels like having a slug crawling on me,” she sobbed. She seemed to be fighting to bring her arms around from behind her back but the hypnosis of the cell phone that imprisoned her will, the PapayaNet trance, steadied its hold on her. Once he was finished repositioning his stiff penis, Pedro brought his free hand back up to fondle the breast he wasn’t already holding in his other hand to guide its delicate teat into his slobbering mouth. Already her nipple was nubbing up on his tongue, stiffening by reflex as he supped on her maidenly bosom. God, sucking Trina’s bitesized cherry was getting him so stimulated he was afraid he might spunk in his pants. He wasn’t sure which he liked more: the feel, smell, and most of all the taste of her supple funbags, or her shaky, papery demeanor, the way she quailed helplessly as he molested her and smeared his filthy mouth all over her clean, young breasts. He could feel the creepy-crawlies twitching through her piddling body, hear her disgust in her subdued, faint whimpers, he even thought he could catch a whiff of it, the acrid smell of fear and helplessness rising out of her moistening pores.

“Tasty buds,” he murmured.

Extending a flat, rancid tongue, he licked her bobbing nipple with a series of flicks, and looked up at her face. She had buried her chin in her shoulder and clinched her eyes shut, a look on her face as though she were just about to go over the first hill of a rollercoaster and had changed her mind about the ride altogether.

He continued in this vein for some time, until the full surface of both Trina’s juvenescent girlpuffs was damp with sticky slobber and his mouth started to go numb from sucking her. The trembling seemed to settle deep into her, and her slim belly twitched with the butterflies. More than once she stammered a chirruping entreaty: “So gross!” or “How long are you going to keep licking me there!?” or “God, this is giving me the creeps!” But bodily she put up no resistance, although it was plain she was so revolted that Pedro actually worried that she might toss her cookies.

At last the ache of his throbbing penis and the stew of sperm gathering in his sweaty balls got too much and he stood upright, looking down at soft Trina as he unzipped his uniform and let it fall to his ankles. A foul odor rose up from his now-naked, fat, clammy body, a combination of unwashed body stench and the sour garbage he had to work with all day. Trina looked at him—the saggy manboobs, the thick all-over hair, the pasty pot-belly, and most of all his purple dugs, the stiff smelly organ and blue testicles in their clumpy nest of knotted pubic hair—and coughed.

“Turn around,” he ordered again, and once more, Trina sullenly padded in place on her bare feet until her back was turned to him, her hands still clasped behind her in the small of her back. Looking once more at the swells of her ripening fanny, Pedro nudged her between the shoulderblades. She arched her spine so that her bottom stuck out but turned her head to the side trepidaciously, looking back at him beseechingly.

“What are you going to do?” she said. Widening his stance, Pedro aimed his up-turned erection at Trina’s pantied hindfurrow.

“I’m going to squirt my white gravy all over your juicy rumproast, you snotty little pipsqueak.”

Grasping Trina at the elbows to steady her, Pedro now sidled his lap into the seat of her girly underpants, allowing the warm globes of her trim derriere to massage his sore, pent-up groin. A hot tingle shot through him as he burrowed his odious member firmly into Trina’s buttcrack. The sudden contact made Trina jump, which sent a delicious shudder through her buttocks and rubbed his cock.

“Please!” she pleaded. “You’re not supposed to stick it in me!”

He didn’t know what he liked better: the smooth diaphanous feel of her brand-new satin panties or the warm hug of her plump tush. He started gyrating his hips, working his smelly fob up and down in Trina’s fannyfurrow, watching in a dim pleasuretrance as the seat of her panties crinkled and then stretched. He didn’t want to hurry yet. He stroked her patiently, studying the feel of her, relishing the rising tide of gratification that eminated in his throbbing genitals and spread to his belly and the backs of his knees. Trina wriggled helplessly. As the tide of tingling ecstasy in Pedro’s loins began to build, a hypnotic intoxication took him over. He bent forward and steadily frotteurized Trina, again scooping up her tender breasts in his palms and sniffing her rosy cheek. Her nubile coconuts were wet and sticky with his slobber; her nose scrunched up as his soggy nostrils pressed against her cheekbone, sniffing. He continued massaging her left breast but took her chin in his other hand to turn her face to the side and then licked her heavily across the face. The tingling in his stiff, throbbing cock and balls was consuming him now, as he rubbed himself off against Trina’s felicific, curvy buns, pawed and fondled her light, ample hooter, and tongued her succulent face. The slender, sexy body of his captive little missy quivered skittishly as he amped up his molestation of her regardless of the youngster’s blanching revulsion.

He took her girlish nose into his mouth in a kind of sloppy kiss. Meanwhile, he sped up the pace at which he worked his naked lap against her tutti-frutti bottom. His tongue slithered into her nose, daubing and probing her pintsized nostril. He tasted her warm breath.

“Blech!” she whimpered. But her insides were warm and tantalizing on the tip of Pedro’s slavering tongue. It was the last straw. Pushing the powerless gosling face-down against the table, Pedro hastily shimmied her now-damp panties to her thighs and, with one hand at her shoulder to hold her down and another at the base of his foul cock to guide it, he thrust his dank penis forward between her succulent muffins, planting his organ stiffly in her dainty, dwarfish slot. Trina tensed up, quavering. Her goopy quim gripped Pedro’s rape-rod as he got his balance and started vigorously cuntfucking her.

“Ow!” cried Trina, stunned. “You’re—guh—sticking me!” But the girl had been thoroughly cowed and did nothing to resist Pedro’s intromission, but passively lay there, appalled and paralyzed, as Pedro pumped her callow quim. Pedro ogled her ass and pounded his pelvis against her, dribbling her jiggling fanny off his lap like a basketball. When he plunged in to the root, massaging his pubic hair into her moist cranny, her fannycakes cushioned and parted, caressing his clammy belly. His squeezed penis went from tingling to jingling as he worked it in and out of Trina’s buttery pussy. Heaven bubbled up in his engorged genitals. He quickened the pace at which he harpooned his piddling teenish captive. It was about to happen now, he was about to truly help himself to Trina’s soft snatch, and then it was happening, as he bumped up against her naked tail and worked himself in her oozy twat, there was a crisis and then an overflowing, a heavy damp squirt as his pent-up lust bubbled over and shot up Trina’s virgin girlsleeve.

“Hurts,” Trina supplicated. “Wet.”

“Ah,” Pedro groaned, creaming the girl, as he lifted his eyes from Trina’s jiggling buttercakes to her flat back, passively rocking as he rode her. Her hair bobbed, her lips were turned into a sad frown as she clinched her eyes shut. Spumy gouts of slimy gunk spouted into her slick oyster. His cock pulsed and twitched, spewing. “Mousy little teenypopper, ah, grade-A muttonchop.”

“Gross! Ow!” Trina protested, buns wobbling. “All wet! Are you going number one in me?”

“I’m nutting in your apple pie,” Pedro slobbered. He was massaging Trina’s ripe buttock as his hysterical ropy discharge finally slowed to a dribble and the dizzying plateau of paradise he was enjoying in the kittenish teen’s diminutive slipslot subsided to a warm blanket of mellow bliss. He in-and-outed her more slowly now, working his hips and grinding side to side in her to explore her soupy womb. God, he had really shot her full of gunk. He didn’t know he could shoot that much. It had happened right away, too. He probably hadn’t fucked her more than thirty seconds.