The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

About mid-morning, early the following week, Rita was again sitting at Burnside’s desk, in his chair this time. She had one leg up on the desk, the better to admire her new boots. They were sky blue, thigh-high and slick-tight the whole way. The thin thrillatex stretched across her legs almost like stockings. Yet over her foot the boots turned deep cobalt blue, right down to the immoderate platforms and endless heels.

Rita’s posture was hardly modest, given that her sky-blue, thrillatex top-and-skirt combo stopped far up her thighs. Her bikini panties were cobalt-blue too. The whole outfit had arrived on the weekend in another package from D.S. By the time Rita had finished “thanking” the courier, the poor fellow could barely walk straight.

Rita wasn’t working very hard. The computer in front of her was showing some investment data. Rita was more interested in her new manicure.

Sandra appeared at the open door. “Uhm, Rita, I hate to disturb you when you’re, uhm . . . working, but there’s a client here to see you: Ms Santamartina”. Her eyes kept falling to the tantalizing glimpse of blue beneath Rita’s miniskirt.

Nervously, she fiddled with the wide pink choker around her neck. Many of the office girls were wearing them now. The chokers were pure thrillatex, decorated with little studs and sparkles. A big silver ring in the front almost looked like a link for a leash.

It had taken some convincing to get Sandra to try on the choker. Now she had trouble taking it off. Rita understood; thrillatex tended to grow on you.

“To see me?” Rita said. “Surely she wants to meet Burnside.”

“She asked for you specifically. She was quite insistent. You look fabulous in those boots Rita!” The last exclamation appeared to have slipped out. Sandra blushed.

Rita swung her leg down off the desk. “Of course I do. But let’s not keep the lady waiting.”

Sandra left, looking flushed. Almost immediately the sensational figure of Ms Santamartina appeared in her place. “Hello again, Rita,” she said.

Once again Rita was struck by the sensuous beauty of the other women, and the almost arrogant confidence with which she carried it. Her golden blonde hair was an artfully disorder, as if her hair naturally fell into perfect arrangement. She was wearing a fuchsia macintosh, belted tightly around the waist, and high-heeled red boots, all of it high-fashion and expensive.

Rita stood to shake hands. “I-I’m delighted to see you, Ms Santamartina,” she said, sincerely. “But you must be mistaking my position. Mr. Burnside is our chief investment counselor.”

The blonde merely smiled. “Oh, it’s you I want to see, my dear Rita,” she said. She untied the belt around her waist and pulled the macintosh back behind her arms. “And why don’t you call me Dominiqua.”

Rita caught her breath. Beneath the trenchcoat, the curvaceous blonde was dressed all in body-loving red latex, thin as paint and bright as enamel. Her thigh-high boots had a series of decorative black buckles up the sides.

The two beauties sat down on opposite sides of the desk. “You’re D.S., of course,” Rita said.

“I hope you have enjoyed my little gifts.”

“They’ve changed my life! I can’t thank you enough. But why?”

“Because I saw a spark in you. I remember the way you reacted when Burnside scolded you. You didn’t let him get away with his petty condescension. I could see you had a special spirit. You just needed to set it free. So I sent you some thrillatex, to help you see your own potential as a woman.”

“It nearly killed me with pleasure. What is thrillatex?“

“A very special kind of latex that I invented. Or rather, that was invented for me by a small team of very talented chemists, all of whom adore me. The material itself is a wonder; something called a reticulated high polymer. I’m not sure what that is, but my chemists tell me it has a kind of cellular structure that makes it stretchy and supportive at the same time. The real beauty is that those cells can be filled with all sorts of interesting chemicals.”

Rita smoothed her blue thrillatex top over one bare tit. She felt her skin tingle in delight. “What kind of chemicals, Dominiqua?” she asked.

“Oh, all manner of things. Hormones. Endorphins. Aphrodisiacs. They diffuse out of the material, and into your skin. Or into the air around you, affecting those nearby.”

Rita nodded in understanding. “But why the gifts? Why one article at a time?”

“I needed to fan your spark into a flame, not set off an explosion. I needed to see if you could tame the thrillatex, make it work for you.”

“But I’m nobody. I’m a junior assistant cashier at a private trust company.”

Her benefactor leaned back in her chair. “My dear, in a few days I expect to own this trust company and I want you to run it.”

“Me! I don’t know anything about running a bank!”

The dazzling blonde waved a red-gloved hand. “Don’t worry about that. You’ll get full support from your staff. I’ll see that you get enough collars for everyone.”

Rita thought about Sandra, and her pink choker. “Those collars, they’re different, aren’t they. They make women sexy and horny, I can see that, but also ”

“Docile? Obedient? A slightly different bag of magic chemicals. My chemists tend to neglect ethical niceties in their eagerness to please me.”

“And Mr. Burnside?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll be eager to help in any way he can. Isn’t that true, little dickie?”

Mr. Burnside crawled out from under Rita’s desk, where he had been happily licking her boot. He was still in his pin-stripe suit. Rita could see the hard-on tenting his trousers. “Of-of course, Ms Sanmartina,” he said from the floor. “Anything she wants. Anything. I’ll be here for anything she needs.” He didn’t look up.

“Well, that settles that,” said Dominiqua. “Rita, are you ready to be a trust company manager? There will be a substantial increase in salary.”

Rita’s grin nearly split her face in two. “Oh, I’m ready, Dominiqua. I’m ready for anything!”