The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Suzanne’s parents were poor, but her cousin Jarrad was rich, already wealthy at 23 years old from his job at a major tech firm. She spent a lot of time hanging around him, allegedly because she liked him, but mostly because he bought her things . And for Jarrad’s part, he enjoyed the spoiled 18-year-old blonde—not so much as a person, but as big-titted eye candy.

“Jarrad,” she started whining one day. “Buy me a prom dress. Prom’s coming up, and I need to look pretty.” She pressed up against him, crushing her tits against his arm, in the way that she knew was likely to get results.

“Fuck, you have no shame, Suzanne,” swore Jarrad. “I just bought you a dress to go clubbing in. It’s like being a sugar daddy without actually getting any sex.”

She did a cute pout. “You can’t fuck me, Jarrad, we’re family. And anyway, you’re like a brother to me. And a brother needs to buy his sister a cute dress for prom.”

He thought, and then said, “Okay, if I buy you this, you are going to be satisfied for at least three months. We are going to hang out in that time and you are not going to ask me to buy you anything.”

She bounced. “But you’ll buy me a dress?”

“Two conditions!” he warned. “You are going to actually thank me for this very expensive gift, in a way that I deem satisfactory, understand? None of this running off without even a ‘You’re the best, cuz.’”

“I’ll thank you, like, a million times, if you buy me the dress,” Suzanne promised.

“And you are going to come here each day, up until the prom,” continued Jarrad, “and you’re going to record a video on my computer here, where you say, ‘I am a good girl, and I will be satisfied with the dress Jarrad buys me, and I will wear it to prom and let everyone see how well Jarrad treats me.”

“God, I promise, okay?” Suzanne said. “But sure, I’ll come and record a video for you, each day after school.”

And she did. For three weeks, she stopped by on her way home, and knelt in front of Jarrad’s laptop, and read the little speech he had written, while looking into the screen and wearing headphones. The screen had a funny swirling pattern on it, and the headphones played white noise into her ears so she couldn’t hear herself speak. He made her read it three times each day, although sometimes it seemed like she spaced out and read it more times—possibly many more times. At the end, he would play it back, so she could hear her own voice saying it through the headphones, while she stared at the spirals on the screen.

On prom night, she turned up at Jarrad’s house eagerly to collect her dress. She didn’t have a date, but that was only because she didn’t want to choose between the boys who were interested in her. She thought she might flirt with them all tonight, and see which ones she could steal away from their dates.

“Where’s my dress?” she asked excitedly.

“In my bedroom,” he told her, and she eagerly ran into his room, closed the door, and opened the pink shopping bag on his bed.

She was confused by what was inside. There was a fluffy pink crepe ballerina tutu, and a pair of pink high heels, and a make-up kit, and... nothing else.

She went back outside. “Is this the wrong bag, Jarrad? Or is there more?”

“That’s it,” he told her. “That’s what you’re wearing to prom. What’s in that bag, and nothing else.”

She flushed. “Jarrad, the top’s missing. And I need to wear my underwear, of course.”

He looked stern. “What part of ‘that, and nothing else’ did you not understand, Suzanne?” He suddenly grinned evilly. “What, are you not satisfied?”

She froze, and coloured. She had promised she would be satisfied—but more than that, she suddenly knew at a deep level that she was satisfied. Sure, the costume didn’t cover her tits at all, and would show her cunt if she bent even a little, but that was all she deserved, wasn’t it?

She felt anger. Jarrad had done something to her. He had tricked her. She wanted to protest—but she couldn’t. She was satisfied.

“Go get changed,” Jarrad told her, “then come show me.”

She emerged from the bedroom some time later wearing the tutu and the heels and blushing bright red. Her tits were completely bare, and the tutu was so light she felt nude below the waist as well. She hesitantly walked towards him—the heels were very high!—and waited for his reaction.

“Good girl,” he told her. “You’ve been cockteasing me into buying you stuff all year now, and it’s really about time that I should get a good look at what I’ve been buying. You have nice tits, Suzanne.”

She blushed deeper red. “Please...” she begged. But she didn’t know what she was begging for, because she was satisfied with this outfit, and she knew she was going to go to prom in it and let everyone see what Jarrad had bought.

“Aren’t you going to thank me?” he asked her.

“Thank you,” she said, unwillingly, but needing to thank him as she had promised.

“No,” he told her.

She paused. What? “Thank you for buying me this dress, Jarrad,” she tried again. “I really like it.”

“No,” he said again.

She let out a little moan. She needed to thank him, and he wasn’t accepting it. She shifted her weight from foot to foot unhappily. What kind of thanks did he want?

She caught sight of herself in a mirror—a little half-dressed Barbie slut—and she suddenly knew.

Face red with humiliation, she fell to her knees in front of Jarrad, crawled over to him, and began to kiss at the crotch of his pants. As she thought, his cock was rock hard behind the fabric, and she began to slobber all over it. “Thank you,” she murmured. “Thank you.”

Still he didn’t accept her apology, so, hands shaking, she undid his zipper and took his cock from his pants. Wrinkling her nose, she started to kiss it—but it didn’t taste so bad, kind of salty but nice, so she took it into her mouth and started to suck on it, looking up at Jarrad for approval. She had never sucked a cock before, so she didn’t know if she was doing a good job.

He let her suck for a good three minutes, before putting his palm in the middle of her face and pushing her off him.

“That was pretty good, Suzanne,” he said . “But that’s not the thanks I want. I want to take the thing that you’re otherwise going to have taken from you, when you wear that outfit to your prom.”

“What?” she asked. She was so confused and scared—humiliation and shock were warring with the thought that his cock had actually tasted very nice and she would quite like it back in her mouth.

“Your virginity, Suzanne,” he said. “Now spread those spoiled brat legs of yours so I can fill you up with cum before your schoolfriends take their turn with you tonight...”

Late that night, she came back to his house. There was cum drying on her face and tits and leaking from her pussy and anus. There were bruises on her face and tits indicating she’d been slapped. When he opened the door, she just looked at him.

“Is there something you want to say, Suzanne?” he asked her.

She nodded mutely.

“Something you want me to buy, but you can’t because you promised not to ask for anything except your dress for three months?”

She nodded again.

“You look like you had a lot of fun tonight. Do you need a morning after pill, by chance?”

She started to cry.

“I tell you what, Suzanne,” he told her. “I’ve made another nice little loop of vision and sound, like the ones you experienced when you did your promise recordings, and a new speech for you to read. And if you can sit on my lounge, and read the speech and watch and listen—while masturbating—all night long, I’ll buy you a morning after pill when the chemist opens. How does that sound?”

She looked at him pleadingly, hoping he wouldn’t do this to her. After a moment, he started to close the door in her face.

“Yes! Yes!” she blurted. “Yes, I’ll do it!”

So he led her to the lounge, and started up his laptop, and gave her the headphones and the speech. He watched as she started to masturbate, pushing her rapists’ cum deeper inside her pussy, and he listened as she started to read her new conditioning speech:

“I like being raped by Jarrad. I like being Jarrad’s little cockteasing fuck-toy. I do what Jarrad says. I like what Jarrad tells me to like. When Jarrad hurts or humiliates me, it makes me love him. I like being raped by Jarrad...”