The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I admit it, I went a little wild in New Orleans. The convention the company sent me to was almost a total loss; I remember a bit of Friday night but none of the next two days, including how I got on the plane home or who’s panties were tucked in my shirt pocket folded like a handkerchief. Somehow I came back with enough business cards and brochures in my briefcase amongst the bead necklaces, stuffed aligators, souvenier hurricane glasses and other sops to the office cronies to make me look like I had been busy as well as a swell guy. But there was one more thing in the case that somehow didn’t look so much like a cheap trinket.

Tucked away in a paper sack was an aligator skinned little box with a catch. Opening the catch I pricked my finger, then my thumb- some kind of a trick lock, engraved with little curlicues and festooned with paste gems. The thing finally flipped open as I muttered curses under my breath to reveal a ring ensconsed in crushed velvet. It looked like silver, an elegant smooth construct like two dolphins moving opposite directions next to each other, covered with filegree. A smear of blood got on it as I prised it loose for a closer look. The shapes, I now made out thru the leftover fog of alcohol, were two human nudes, wrapped around each other; the male with his head between the generous breasts of the female, who’s mouth was open wide pasted about the neck of the male, and who’s right hand stretched around above her head to grasp the engorged cock of the male. The male’s right hand was similarly stretched to reach into the pussy above him, while the left hand of each fondled the head of their partner. Worked into the engraving was the latin motto Amor Vincent Omnia, which I muttered to myself while slipping the curio over my right ring finger.

I cursed again as I jerked it past the tight knuckle-like the box, the thing had something sharp hidden by the fancy scrollwork-I was pricked again. Blood welled up around the ring as the fog instantly cleared from my head-the pain seemed responsible, though it was no greater than the other two prickings; an annoyance, really. I looked up from the ring down the aisle of the plane, leaned out to see a stewardess pulling a drink cart backwards about halfway down. She was bent at the waist and leaning over the seat to her left serving a drink to a window passenger, and a lacivious vision indeed; her ass clad in mid calf brown skirt waving at me, the swell of her bosom visible from the side. She straightened up and looked around behind her as if someone had called her name, glancing down the aisle until her eyes met mine. Brunette, with a white shirt and a uniform jacket, her blue eyes were startling as they locked on mine, questioning, then concerned.

She moved down the aisle in a controlled rush, swaying little in the mild turbulence, as I ran my eyes across her figure from the front. Wide hips and chest, tight tummy, long flowing hair-built well to my standards, unlike the fashion model figure of today. She reached me as I made out the name Kelly on her tag, fixed as it was over her swelling breast. She reached out and took my hand as her eyes finally moved off mine to take in the ring and the blood. “Are you all right, sir?” she said, glancing back up to me.

I let her pull the hand up, a little bewildered, as I replied “oh, its nothing, a little prick,” shaking my head a little.

She bent forward and kissed the ring and finger, her tongue darting over the knuckle- quick and discrete, but disconcertingly familiar. “Let me take care of that back in the stewards section,” she said softly, tugging gently at my hand and drawing me to my feet. Her eyes seemed to have focussed on my crotch momentarily before coming back up to meet mine as her tongue darted out to clean a small smear of red from her lip.

As I followed her gently pulling hand I glanced at mine- the bleeding had stopped, the finger was clean, the ring sparkled in the cabin light, warm around my finger as if I had worn it far longer than a minute. We passed thru a curtain into a narrow space between first class and business, lined with cabinets and implements of the duties of stewardesses. As Kelly pulled me into the empty cart space I saw the familiar red cross on one cabinet door.

To my surprise, instead of reaching for the door as she turned to face me, she knelt down, releasing my hand, and grasped the top of my pants with hers hand, finding and pulling down the zipper with the other. “I’ll make it big for you” she murmered softly, cupping my only slightly engorged cock in her hand, then leaning forward to literally suck it into her mouth. The sensation was astonishing, the sudden wet warmth surrounding me, drawing me in, engulfed to the hilt. I could feel the pressure of my prickhead sliding past her tongue and into her throat thru expansion alone as she kept her face pressed against my belly, working her tongue up and down as she raised and lowered the pressure. Finally, she eased back, pulling her lips up the shaft, digging in and then expanding around the crown to let the tip pop out. “Not so little now,” she said proudly, “is there anything else?”

In consternation I met her eyes as I thought ‘don’t stop!’ only to see her bob back down on me as if on command. Slowly she slid up and down the shaft from midway to crown and back, again and again, faster and faster, tongue working the come tube, until finally she engulfed me completely again, humming as I released spurt after spurt down her throat. The rest of the world worked its way back into my awareness as she stood.

She zipped my pants and said “let me put a bandage on your finger and noone will be the wiser,” as if I had said something about my concerns of being caught. Pulling one out of the cabinet and wrapping it around my finger, she led me back to my seat and returned to the drink cart still parked in the aisle.

The whole incedent had taken less than five minutes. I was amazed, frankly-I’ld never had a girl blow me as anything but foreplay, never had anyone anywhere near that fast, never had had one departed afterwards with so little fuss. I’ve dreamed of it, but never had it happen to me. I wan’t even sure it had happened now-until I looked down at my finger, with the little knuckle bandage and the silver ring. My alcohol haze creapt back over me with a vengance now, and all the more effective after the minutes of clairity. By the time Kelly made her way back to me, I was sure it had all been a daydream. There was no glimmer of recognition in her eyes as she served me, cold and efficient. Blue, though, just as I had “dreamed” they were...

I got off the plane at National, picked up my luggage, and took the Metro home. I unpacked and went to bed, puzzling over the little bandage- a souvenier of that otherwise unreal dream. In the morning, I hopped back on the Metro to work, armed with my briefcase of trade show brochures business cards and the sops for the saps who stayed home running the show. I got in early, handed out a couple goodies to the other go-getters who also beat the rush, and made my way to my cubicle. Yvonne, the team secretary wasn’t in yet, so I had a chance to put together a report before she called the boss in. There really was enough business loot to make it look like the trip had been worthwhile, I called several of the better prospects and left messages on their machines to get back to me, being sure to mention the convention. This way, I’ld get calls all day to make it look like I’ld done more than run thru the floor friday night grabbing paper.

When I heard Yvonne enter, I poked my head out and said “Tell Bob I’m back, wouldja?” and vanished before it even registered. Seconds later, I popped out again to catch her expression. Wry, but not particularly amused by my antics, as usual. A stunning bighaired blonde, as always clad in a sequined dress that spotlighted her voluptuous figure in a way that was more appropriate to Vanna White than a coporate receptionist, she was as sexy as hell, but had always fended off my vague hints with a shake of her head and that half smile. I came over to her desk and whipped out a bead necklace, open ends held one in each hand. I quickly looped it over her head as I moved behind her chair, but the trick backfired, as my new ring caught on the high back and dug into my finger. I let out an involuntary “ah,” as my hands shook, making the clasp difficult.

Yvonne said “What is it?” in a concerned voice, arching her neck to one side and twisting her head until her eyes met mine. With her hair out of the way, the view down her canyon was stupendous, making the catch even harder to work.

“I’m having difficulty getting the knob into the slot” I replied, finally working the thing correctly with a pop. Then I assayed another flirt- “you know what they do down in the Big Easy for these, don’t you?” I limit myself to one a day, in these litigenous times, but I can’t resist that one.

Yvonne reached up to her neckline with both hands, grasped firmly, and pulled the stretchy material away from her generous mounds. They moved apart and sagged down a little, but still stood proud, round tan areolas surrounding pinky sized nipples which crinkled erect as I watched. They swayed as she said “something like this?” Then she moved her elbows together, pushing those magnificent boobs tight against each other and murmered “I’m sure I can address that difficulty.” She spun her chair around with her leg as she pulled the top down and in to her ribcage and released it. Then she tugged at my zipper with her right hand while snaking the left over the top of my pants to pull upwards, the tips of her fingers brushing the tip of my manhood, already erect from the view, and rubbed by her downward moving right. Yvonne worked her mouth a couple of times and then bobbed forwards, rapidly taking my erection in deep once, twice, three times.

Shocked by this dreampt of but utterly unheralded turn of events, I maintained enough presence of mind to reach out my left hand to carress her right tit, lifting as though weighing, then letting it slip back as the stiff but soft nipple rubbed by my hand. As I moved my right hand to repeat the action, the normally aloof secretary moaned softly as she moved off my glistening shaft.

Yvonne worked precum out of my tube and rubbed it around while she worked her mouth again and commented “the trick is to get it really slick.” She moaned again as her nipple brushed by my ring, which I noticed had a smear of red- must have opened that cut when I hit the chair back. I was too far gone to care, as she lowered her lips to my tip and spat softly, pumped the saliva down the length with her right hand laciviously as she straightened up in her chair. She worked her mouth again and wet the fingers of her left hand, then ran them down between her D Cups-now I knew where this was headed.

I lifted both mounds together as Yvonne inhaled deeply and leaned forward, presenting her cleavage to me as I had often dreamed. I lowered my hips ‘till my tip was beneath her, then thrust up and forward into that generous cleft. The sensation was amazing, soft rippling pressure tight against me, sliding thru titflesh back up into the air. I moved again and again, but gradually slipped back towards my body until I popped out the front, head brushing a nipple. I tried again as Yvonne blew a line of saliva down onto my ‘head to refresh the lubrication, lifting higher with my hands as I thrust, but again I worked my way back out to the air in a few motions.

“I see what you mean,” Yvonne murmered huskily. She replaced my hands with her own while I repositioned myself again, and pressed not so much up as in, with a rolling motion that brought the nipples in towards each other and made the outside tighter than the inside towards her chest. Now I could thrust freely, again, again, and again, hotter and hotter, as she squeezed her boobs in a shaking pattern, the pneumatic pressure waves compacting my hardness. As I moved into a frenzy, she drew back a little, hunching her chin down to her collarbone and low enough for my tip to slide into her lips at the top of my thrusts.

A few of these and I pushed up hard, tip to the roof of her mouth, breasts pressed around my shaft down to the base as I came in heavy waves, gasping as she softly worked her tongue against the underside and heaved her bossom up and down around my unmoving shaft. As the delirium of orgasm passed, I looked around. Noone seemed to have caught us- the swiftness of the act was our only defense.

As if grasping my sudden nervousness, Yvonne pulled away and tucked my member back in my slacks with the same economy of motion she had displayed in reverse, then pulled her neckline back out and up, reaching in to resettle the mammaries with a shake. “Did that take care of your difficulty?” she said with that wry half smile on her face as she reached for the phone. She pushed some buttons, then spoke into the mouthpiece “Bob? The New Orleans presentation is ready.”

Realizing I’ld be on deck in minutes, I dashed back into my cubicle, digging for more phoney documentation. I caught one more glimpse of Yvonne, speaking to the boss on the phone and toying with her necklace, not looking at me at all.

A fairly serious whirl of a day followed, the pressure to make the trip look worthwhile made its presence felt... Next time I resolved I’ld try to drink a little less- not that I’ld do any more real work, but so I’ld remember enough that faking it would be worthwhile. What I remembered of the plane trip home, and now the amazing response of Yvonne to my lame trinket of a gift for her bouyed my spirits, though.

Several days of my normal existance passed, Yvonne seemed as distant as ever, unresponsive to my flirts, unwilling to acknowledge that anything had happened, at least on a hint. Again, I’ld never experienced anything like it, although I’ld always dreamed of sex without consequences. First the Stewardess, now the Secretary, had “serviced” me with no foreplay, no sign of reciprocal action for themselves, no strings attached before or afterwards. If only I could figure out how I had elicited this response, after 20 years of serious, semiserious and even supposedly light relationships; now twice in two days! My thoughts kept returning, illogically, to the ring I’d found in my briefcase. It didn’t seem possible, but somehow those women had both acted out precisely my impulses; the only thing new I could think of was that ring. I got myself thrown out of a singles bar for making a lewd suggestion to a stunning blonde after getting her to look at the ring like a hypnotist’s stone. I spent several subway rides thinking fiercely lustfully in the direction of attractive passengers. Nothing seemed to work. Finally, I had given that up as a dead end, swept up in my normal existance again.

I was at the New Orleans Spa, where I took one of my big accounts to get him laid after a three martini lunch. Of course I took a girl for myself as well, an exotic young olive skinned brunette named Raven. I’ld had her a couple of times before, but there was noone new in that impressed me, and I knew she’ld do a nice half and half for a reasonable tip. A shower, a nice massage, the customary quiet discussion about what was going to happen and how much it would cost me, and she left the room for a moment. When she returned, she stripped down and brought my cock up to fairly rigid with one hand, then did that lovely trick of rolling the condom on with her mouth. She went to work in her journeymanlike way, as I relaxed and enjoyed the sensation of her pumping mouth. I got her to shift around up on the table with me so I could run my hands across her body, play with her dangling breasts, reach between her legs to her pussy, and up and around to her generous butt. She had a little tube of KY hidden, I hadn’t even noticed it the first time I’d used her, but she had a move where she got a good squeeze with one hand, then used it to lube her pussy up good.

As usual, she pulled her ass away as I got a finger close to her nether hole, keeping it almost flirtatios, but definately denying access. A little dissapointed, although it was to be expected, I reached behind my head to adjust the pillow with my right hand, when the ring caught on the sheet and dug into me. I winced in pain and gave a grunt of annoyance. Raven drew up to my tip and looked up at me; “Alright?” making it a question. “Anything I can do?”

“Let me fuck you up the butt” I replied, joking. I’ve done anal all the way once, with a real slut years ago who I’ld done several times and this one time just slipped it out of her cunt and into her ass in one smooth move. She seemed to dig it, and I got off in a big way, but she never fucked me again, and I’ve often thought that was what had scared her off. Another lover, one I was living with, tried to accomadate me when our relationship started getting rocky; she never managed more than a finger for me, and the hope was not enough to counteract the rest of the shit that was going down. No hooker had ever even hinted that she would “do greek,” for any amount of money.

Raven grunted as she bobbed deep on my shaft, deeper than she ever had before, and more passionately. She was doing that trick with the KY tube, reaching back farther than seemed necessary. I knew she was about to switch to her pussy, so I started pumping up into her mouth with a will. She lingered, taking it, when she normally would have retreated. After a few good strokes I was actually near popping off it was so good, when she did pull away. I’d already given her the bucks for half and half, so I’d be disappointed if she got me off orally; although this had suddenly been so good that I’d consider paying for a straight blowjob next time! The tip comes out of my pocket even if the company does cover the room rates, I wouldn’t mind paying less for a BJ that good, the orgasm would have been better than many of the full service ones I’ve had. Still, having paid for both, I would have been pissed at her getting me off by mouth; other girls had tried that, and it doesn’t sit well with me. Raven straddled me, slyly lubing my cock with her KYed hand as she reared up and positioned me. Then she slowly sat, pressing down on my tip while holding the shaft firmly with her hand. I pressed my head back into the pillow, eyes closed, to enjoy the sensation. The pressure was intense, at first I thought she’d missed the opening. Then I started to penetrate as Raven faked a moan. This girl must have had surgery, I thought, no Keigels could get her cunt that tight again! She was squeezing me around the rim as I slowly slid into the hot tube.

I drew my head up and looked up at her, started running my hands up from her waist to her tits and squeezing. I got her nipples between my middle and ring fingers to play with, when I noticed the blood on my ring. I thought the cut had healed up, but here it was again. Didn’t matter, the hot sensation of Raven impaling herself so tight was rocking me back.

Her eyes were focussed on mine, her face flushed. Her nipples came erect between my fingers as I mauled her breasts a little rougher than was wise-she knew how to pull away when things were’nt to her liking. This time she wasn’t pulling away, rather arching her back a little and inhaling to make them bigger, firmer. She worked her hips a little forward and back as she continued her descent, drawing my attention down to her crotch.

Something looked different down there, not quite as usual. I ran my right hand down to finger her clit- I knew it wouldn’t matter to her, probably she’ld gently dissuade me, but it’s always been part of fucking for me. She wasn’t doing any disuading, in fact she gave out another of her moans, more deep throated than usual, as I ran my fingers back to feel my shaft sinking (rising in this case) into her. Much to my suprise, My finger found her empty but wet cunt. I ran it into her to make sure- no mistaking it. As I drew up my head further, I could make out Raven reaching bottom, impaling herself to the hilt on my cock, up her butt! This explained the amazing tightness! I squeezed her left tit tighter, lifted suggestively with my finger up her cunt, and felt her sliding back up my shaft with a will. Down again, up again, moving as if dancing to my lead; I started thrusting to meet her, slamming into that tight asshole over and over, harder and harder. I could feel my cock sliding up and down thru the wall at the back of her cunt with my finger.

As I shot off into her, Raven leaned forward, mashing her boobs into my chest. “Mmmm” she murmered, letting me cool down inside her butt.

I withdrew my finger and traced a line around her behind to feel my shaft at her tail as it slowly withdrew, popping out at the rim.

Raven rolled off me smoothly onto the floor, pulled the rubber off gently as I prepared for her damp cloth wipeup. To my surprise, she took me in her mouth instead, as I’d so often dreampt, before looking up at me and saying “no extra charge.” Finished cleaning, she swiftly dressed and left me to do the same.

My client came out from Amber’s room as I followed Raven, and I was back on stage. The rest of the day followed from there, but now the germ was in my mind. Not just the ring, but the ring and blood. Three times it had happened, and three times the current lady of my desires had suddenly, swiftly given me just what I wanted, with little more than a word from me.

Now I needed to test my theory. I examined the ring again, but could find no writing in the scrollworks save that I had noticed before; “omnia vincent amor;” all victory protection, I think. A strange enough motto, one which seemed to have no bearing on the workings of the ring. Too, there were no protrusions, ridges, or sharp edges which would account for the nicking of my finger, and despite the bandage, there was no evidence of any cut or scar upon the knuckle itself. I did find a flek of blood on my thigh, perhaps evidence of the wound today...

I decided on a real test of the ring’s capabilities; direct mental control of an unknowing subject at a distance. Across the street, Jane Pullet was just getting out of her car. A young suburbanite with short bobbed brown hair and a petite figure, she was far too proper to even flirt with anyone but her husband. I’d been shot down very quickly early in our relationship, and now she’d go across the street rather than say a passing hello to me. One raised eyebrow at an unintentional double entendre had me barred for life! I jammed the ring onto my finger, braced for the expected pang as somehow it inexplicably nicked me with its smooth surface.

Jane’s head swiveled around in my direction, then stopped halfway on its journey as if she had remembered something. She put her grocery bag back into the car, and closed the door as she started on her way inside. As she went, she was working at her blouse with busy fingers. Unbuttoned, Jane pulled her top off as she rounded the trunk, hung it over her left forearm as she reached around her back. Still moving towards the house, she shrugged out of her bra and placed it with the blouse. Her tits were too small to jiggle as she made her way over the curb, pausing to pull her panties down to knee level. She stepped high out of each leg of the panties as she started moving again, neatly looping them over top of her growing burden. As she paused to check her mail, she slipped her skirt down and stepped out of it, again draping the latest article across her arm. As she strolled down the paving stone path to her door, she paused twice to kick the backs of her two sandals down with the opposite toes, then lift each leg up and inside at the knee to put the soles in hand and off. Completely nude, she strode up to her door, fished her keys out of her purse, unlocked and opened the door, and stepped inside.

Delighted by the effectiveness of the first test of the ring, I smirked imagining the effect on Janes husband. What would she think of his response to her surprise nudity when she herself was unaware of it? I savored the memory of her little tight ass as the door swept closed behind her, exactly as on any other day, as I began to give careful consideration to the possibilities unfolding before me.

I decided to make an evening of it, and went out to one of my favorite fantasy spots. One of the local strip clubs- full of beautiful, healthy sexy babes who would never go more than an inch over the line. Why should they, and jeopardize a gig that brings in $20+ a dance for stage acts, $10 a dance for lap dances... I can’t stay away, even though the closest I’ve come to actually getting anything was killed by the girl getting violently ill; fucked up on drugs or alcohol to the point that her judgement was clouded enough to make her think of going out with me.

The place was not very crowded when I got there, early yet. They only had two of the stages running; the main strip and one bar. On the strip was a girl I had met before; “Kim” she called herself, wore her usual white buttondown shirt and plaid skirt, schoolgirl glasses. The combination could be hot, but wasn’t really in her hands. She wasn’t much of a dancer, and the tippers weren’t out in force yet anyway. On the bar, though, was a black girl I hadn’t seen before, looking pretty hot in ragged cutoff jean shorts and denim shirt tied up under her tits-what tits they were! She was facing away as I moved up to a barstool, waving at the bartender; but the full round swells of each breast could be seen captive under the denim around each side of her back. My concentration was split between her and trying to flag that bartender down for a drink, but she seemed to be energetic and had a few moves. Neither she nor I was getting any action, though—the garter around her thigh held only the easily recognizable bait-two carefully folded fives rubber banded onto the garter, while I was as usual experiencing the mystery of bartender invisibility. Looking around the rest of the place, I spotted two more bartenders at their respective stations, aboout twenty patrons, some of which were likely the boyfriend/managers of some of the girls, and six more dancers.

Two of the dancers were sitting with customers chatting them up for lap dances, the others were clustered around the bar near dressing room-one of the two without a stripper atop. As invisible as I was to the bartender, I was even more so to the girls, which I knew from experience could only be cured by tipping the ladies on stage. Funny how a little judicious spending can firm up a guys image! I tented a one up on the bar in front of me, where the woman cavorting up there could see it, and went back to getting my drink; I stood on the rail at base of the stool and nodded when that caught the ‘tender’s eye. Settled in at last with my Bloody Mary (a long way from my favorite, but I figured it would come in handy,) I turned my attention full on the bodacious chocolate figure making her way around the bar towards my dollar.

Somewhere while my attention was away from her she had peeled off the shorts-I could see her close cropped bush and broad swaying hips as she sashayed over another customer’s drink, eyes on my folded buck. I was paying more attention to the globes still prisoned in that knotted denim; they seemed larger than any non feature I had seen in a club-like someone from a magazine...Busty, perhaps. They strained the blue fabric and staring closely I could make out the faint shapes of her two soft nipples and areolae under the pockets. I made no move to pick up the bill, so she leaned forward from the waist, legs straight, and picked it up with her right hand while tugging her garter open with the left, according me an up close and personal view down that amazing cleavage while tucking away that precious dollar. This move was astonishing enough given her obviuos balance handicap, but then, as she murmered “my name is Jewel,” she stayed bent over as she slowly spun around in time to the music until her other generous globes faced me. She was leggy enough in her tall wide heeled pumps that this wasn’t a closeup, but everything from her puckered rosebud asshole to the pink slit inside her dark black labia was certainly on display, as was her talent- this Jewel could certainly dance!

I sat back and enjoyed the show until the next song, still running my eyes around the room to the other girls, sipping my drink, and starting to relax. None of the other girls were really trying for my attention, as expected when I had just tipped one dancer one time. The next number was early Huey Lewis, with a hard driving beat.

Jewel came alive on the countertop, spinning from brass pipe to brass pipe, making love to each. Dollars came out of the pockets of the three of us at the bar with amazing speed. After taking the first she untied her top and let it spin around with her, revealing tits more glorious than the voluptuous hints- there had been some compression with the tied shirt, her free globes were easily the size of coconuts swaying on the hurricane driven palm tree of her lashing body. As she took my dollar she pulled out of one sleeve and around behind her back to pull the other off her far arm, whirling on to the far side of the bar to pick up the third. For this gentleman the prize was a gently swaying pause in a crouch as she lifted the garter clad leg above his head and awaited the hasty insertion of the bill. She moved on, into the bridge, onto the small triangle wedge of a stage at one end of the bar, sinking to her knees, rocking with the beat...she arched her back slowly as all motion came to a stop, drawing attention to her chest where to the amazement of all motion began again. Motion independant of her body- one breast lifted and fell, then the other, each in synch with the “heartbeat” of Rock and Roll. As she drew her act to a close, I made up my mind-this one I must have. Fortunately, this time, I had the ring...