The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Universe is a fickle place (being? entity?). Sometimes the Universe gives you what you desperately want. Sometimes the Universe gives you what you most desperately need. It can be a blessing from the heart. It can be an eternal curse. It can be permanent. It can last a moment. It could be real, whatever that means to something like the Universe. It could all be in your mind, unseen by all but you. How and why the Universe does what it does, how and why it chooses to put people and events in our path, can be impossible to fathom. Today Amanda will have to decide for herself, if she can, what any of this means.

It had been a long week at work. The promotion to partner after years of college, law school, and focusing on work was wonderful for Amanda’s checkbook and a validation of her work ethic and intelligence. However, the increase in workload was incredible, with three new litigation matters alone this week. But in spite of all that, it was finally the end of the week and she had carved out the afternoon for herself to prepare for the gala.

After a relaxing afternoon at her favorite spa and salon where she was pampered and primped, Amanda went home and luxuriated in a long, hot, steamy shower. Standing in the glass walled shower, the steam filling her lungs and opening her pores, she exhales and simply says “Blissful”. Stepping out, she wraps herself in her robe and goes to her walk-in closet.

Amanda takes out a pretty black bra and panties set, hangs up her robe and puts them on. Sitting at her dressing table, she quickly and expertly applies a smoky eye shadow and a small amount of mascara.

She takes her long dress out of the garment bag and carefully slips it over her head, admiring how the soft teal sets off the auburn highlights in her long hair. She adds tasteful high heels from Manolo to complement the gown. Amanda then opens a drawer and looks over her jewelry—some inherited, and some treats to herself. She takes out a pair of diamond earrings and a pearl necklace. Sitting in front of the vanity mirror again, she takes another look, satisfied with the overall presentation. Looking at the time, she grabs her Prada clutch, and heads out.

The Lyft ride she ordered took no time at all, and the driver was friendly and pleasant not creepy, giving her the respect and sense of privacy she needed to make a call to her sister. “Sorry you couldn’t join me tonight, Mara, but this should be fun. Yes, I got all dolled up, you’d love how I look. No, it’s at the City Club this year so hopefully we’ll have no trashy skanks or sluts there. OK, I’m almost there, enjoy movie night at home and I’ll call you in the morning to tell you all about it.”

Arriving at the club, Amanda walks up the steps and goes inside. The foyer, with its polished parquet floor, is beautifully decorated with lovely flower arrangements. She pauses and looks in a mirror as she walks in, admiring the updo she spent time on with her silken auburn hair, happy with the results and how elegant it makes her look. Amanda’s body is firm and toned from the time spent working out each morning, svelte with toned muscles, her small, pert breasts giving just the right bit of curve to match her hips and make her look and feel elegant.

Entering the ballroom, a waiter hands her a glass. After taking a sip of champagne, her body tingles all over, as if some kind of energy is crackling across her skin. Without even noticing, she starts speaking to herself, “Nice vintage, dry yet with a hint of sweetness, I shall have to ask what it is.” Mandy (only her mother calls her Amanda now) then finishes the glass quickly without even thinking about it.

As another waiter passes by, taking her empty glass and handing her a new one which almost glows when looked at a certain way, she lets the music guide her on to the dance floor. The music is wonderful, replacing the weird buzzing in her head, surrounding her and somehow even going inside her, touching her soul. With a shiver, Mandy continues dancing solo, swaying to the music in her favorite chic short black dress, the one that lets everyone see her legs and that hugs her curves so nicely, the cool breeze blowing in through the ballroom’s patio French doors against her bare legs. Shaking her head, the stylishly cut long strawberry blonde hair flowing down her back, Mandy looks around watching the other dancers, most of them in long gowns and none as chic as she is in her best formal club wear.

The music continues, rapturous, elegant yet with a hidden thumping beat that Mandy’s heart matches, unable to stop dancing in what are now her stiletto platform pumps, the 6 inch heels giving her a sexy, almost bimboey, look as her new, yet strangely familiar, short blood red skirt flares out as she spins, the off the shoulder top hugging her curves as her larger breasts jiggle along with her movements, twisting around. Giggling, Mandy says “I’m, like, so glad I picked this to wear tonight. No way am I going to dress all covered up like Mara. People would, uhm, think like I never go out.”

Mandy catches herself in a wall mirror near the dance floor, loving the way the heavy kohl makes her eyes look sultry, the deep red on her plump, swelling lips matching her skirt. She licks her lips and smacks them together, wondering to what use she’ll put them to tonight. Mandy looks around at the other dancers, so cool and collected, elegant but yet somehow detached and obviously not party animals like her. Don’t they realize they need to let loose and have fun? If you’ve got it, flaunt it.

The music fills the air, not just enveloping her, but now a part of her, her soul echoing it. Looking around the room, and especially the dance floor, Mandykins wonders why the others aren’t dancing to the deep beat inside the music. Don’t they hear it? Can’t they feel it? Most of the ladies are still dancing serenely while Mandykins and a few select other women or bimboes party it up.

Mandykins’ now bright pink stilettos, with a clear plastic platform, click and pound on the floor as she whoops it up dancing. “Woot woot!!! Let’s party, girls!!!” Her short bright red tulle skirt flares down from her wide hips, barely covering her plump ass as the white tube top strains to hold in Mandykins’ enlarged (haven’t they always been like this?) full, round, tits. She can’t even call them breasts any more, the word foreign to her after they expanded 10 inches.

She tosses her head wildly, her long sunny blonde ponytail swishing around like a whip. What is it with these stuck up people, she thinks? It’s a party, they should let loose. Though I will say, these women who are not partying it up look so strong, so commanding, so powerful in their elegant gowns. Mandykins glances quickly into the eyes of one woman nearby, her eyes glistening with power deep within, making Mandykins’ body tingle and shudder with desire.

Mandykins keeps on dancing. Twirling around, shaking her ass and tits, wondering why there’s no dance pole here for her to use like back at work. Oh well, have to make do. Mandykins pulls out a chair from a table near the dance floor, how body glowing as her reality changes again. Using the chair as a prop to dance, her micro mini-skirt letting everyone see her dripping bare cunt, sitting down and arching her back to push out her enormous melons up into the air, the sparkly pink letters spelling out “mandyslut” on her black leather dog collar, offset by her long wavy platinum blonde hair.[a][b] The stretched out white tank top advertising “Everyone’s Bitch” on the front, though with her tits bigger than her head the letters are a bit deformed and not so easy to read. It’s always been so hard to find cute tops since she left high school early to work as a dancer.

Mandyslut stands up too quickly and feels lightheaded, falling to the ground on her hands and knees and looking up with need in her eyes. Looking around at all the strong women, she wonders if anybody will take care of a needy bitch in heat. Mandyslut crawls around on the dance floor until a woman with tall black leather boots snaps on a leash to her collar and commands her to lick her boots and then continue dancing at her feet until she has time to fuck the slut properly. Mandyslut smiles, licking slowly, so glad she came to this party.