The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

One

I woke up to the smell of cigarettes and coffee. It was an interesting sensation—two compulsions that had the opposite rational effect. I hated the cigarette smoke, loved the aroma of brewing coffee, but wanted them both in equal measure.

Such is the nature of addiction.

It was during the next moment that I remembered I wasn’t alone. I’d brought someone home from the bar. I didn’t remember what he looked like, exactly, but the soreness between my legs told me he was not lacking in his intimate anatomy. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember his name or what he looked like. I did remember several orgasms that took me into a journey of telling God that if this was wrong, then fuck it... I wanted this.

Well, at least he knew how to make coffee. I put on a bouse and tied the tail around my midriff, pulled on some panties, pushed back my hair, and prepared for my grand entrance into the kitchen.

I wasn’t prepared for who I found. Ugly? I was ready. Deformed? I was strong. Adonis? I had my throbbing heart well-throttled.

But he was a she.

And not just any she. She was dressed in a latex bra and panties that seemed painted onto her round, inviting ass. Don’t get me wrong. She didn’t look like a whore or anything. She looked like she had been poured out of a bottle of liquid sex.

Really. I would have melted except for one thing. I’d never seen the attraction of women, at least as love/sex partners. Sure, there are beautiful women, and some might even be considered kind of generically desirable, but even my fantasies of doing it with a woman had been left in the quagmire of early adolescence.

She turned around to look at me. This time, I did melt. Her face was a strange mix of ageless innocence and sinful corruption, impossibly full lips beckoning my kiss, bottomless eyes capturing my heart. I had a sudden memory of seeing her the night before, just before I got too drunk to remember anything else.

Except... I had been drinking, hadn’t I? But where was my hangover?

“Back to the land of the living, are we?” she said. Her voice was like satin in my ears, dark blue and rustling something deeper. I could curl up in it and be happy forever.

I walked over, not myself but not worried about it, and put an arm around her neck. I dipped my hand to her crotch, found her distended clit with my finger. She was hot—I could feel her swollen nugget and lips through her latex panties. She was wet, and her panties slid with my finger, and my own cunt became a torrent of juices.

I forgot anything else and kissed her deeply, caught in the throes of wondrous love. I gasped as my finger slipped through a slit in her panties and her wetness, hot and slick, closed around my finger, the liquid silk of her quickening my heart. I felt her moans touch my searching tongue and my passion doubled.

My cheek hurt.

The elbow in my face broke the spell and I turned over in bed, facing away from Oliver.

“Just a dream,” I told myself, but I was still angry. I knew I was being irrational, but I was too sleepy to do anything about it. Good dreams were rare enough, and this one had been ended by Ollie’s bad bed manners. It didn’t matter that he’d been asleep.

I drifted off, but did not return to my wonderfully taboo erotica. Instead, I was whisked away to a more typical vista of disconnected and forgettable images.

Two

The next morning, the dream was gone. Gone where all dreams go, I guess. It was hiding somewhere in the memories that lose themselves in the dark places. I was still cranky, though. I huffed at Oliver and barely spoke to him before leaving for work. His usual good nature and affable smile were irritating for some reason. I didn’t really have the time or inclination to wonder about it. It was just how I felt.

I drove to work in a daze and had that weird moment of realizing that I hadn’t been aware of any stoplights or turns. One moment I was starting the car, the next I was pulling in a parking space in the garage across from Turnley Towers.

At least my bad mood was gone. Getting out of the house had really helped.

I shook myself a little, opened the car door, and got blasted by humidity and heat. It was only 7:45, so it looked like today was going to be another in a long series of Earth Saunas.

The next moment I was in my chair, sitting in my office, looking for my agenda. Now that was weird. I was usually alert, but this fading in and out was as if I hadn’t slept—except I felt energized. I keyed the intercom to Hilda, my secretary, and asked for my daily schedule.

In a few moments, she walked through the door. “Back to the land of the living, Kim?” she said.

The words sparked a memory of my dream, and it came flooding back, along with all of the emotions of it. I tried not to let it show. “Wh—I mean...”

“You were in quite a daze when you walked in. Didn’t even hear me say hello. You and Oliver fighting or something?”

“No, no,” I said, smiling. “Just kind of rushed this morning.” Were we fighting? We never fought, not to that degree. But just the thought of him elbowing me out of my bliss and then smiling later as if nothing had happened made me seethe underneath. I knew I was overreacting, but knowing something and doing something about it were two different things. I decided it would pass in its own good time.

Hilda shrugged and laid the paper on my desk. “Okay, whatever. You just have the look. I’ll go get your coffee.”

“The look? Oh, about Oliver,” I murmured. I watched her leave and didn’t say another word. The thoughts of Ollie left with her. I couldn’t keep anything in my head except the strange and delicious woman of my dreams. It was an odd way to think of her, but so help me, there it was.

I shook my head again after bathing in that vision for a bit longer. Ollie had sure pissed me off. Must have. Otherwise, I would never be thinking of a dream lover, much less a woman.

I got back to work.

The morning was uneventful, save for an argument with David Anderson in Marketing. He was being all self-aggrandizing, and once again belittling anyone who actually had to work for a living. Sales people always forgot that it was a symbiotic relationship. Without the people who worked to provide a service, he’d have had nothing to sell. Without sales, our service would go nowhere. But in David’s mind, only sales had anything to do with success. As usual, I told him he was full of shit. Well, I actually said he was mistaken. But I said it like he was full of shit.

Otherwise, it was a standard morning. Dull, even.

I decided to go to lunch at the Shire, a little semi-upscale casual bistro that was across the street. It was very good.

I was in the middle of my veggie burger when I caught her out of the corner of my eye. Her. She. The woman. The one who had apparently inspired my dream.

“Come to me.” The words came from right behind my head. Lyrical. Irresistible. It wasn’t a request. It was a command. My pussy spasmed and my heart fluttered.

I turned to look at her, and she was already gone.

I left fifteen dollars on the table and went to look for her. My veggie burger was history.

Three

By the time I got in the car to drive home, I’d put the whole thing behind me. Even my anger with Ollie had dissipated. Maybe we’d go out to dinner, and then come home and fuck like bunnies. I giggled a little at my naughty thought.

I pulled up to a stoplight at Columbine and Highway 37. By now, my fantasy with Ollie was in full swing, and had my legs locked around his back, pulling him into me.

I knew it would be a long light. My panties were wet now, and I pulled up my skirt to adjust them. God, I was sensitive. My touch sent a shiver through me. Maybe we’d fuck before we went out. Maybe we wouldn’t go out at all. I left my finger on my clit, gently circling.

I looked into my rear view mirror and gasped. She was in the car behind me. Smiling. Knowing.

“You don’t want Oliver.”

I closed my eyes as pleasure shot up my arm from my clit. I looked again, expecting my phantom to be gone. She was still there.

“You never wanted Oliver. Oliver was a placeholder while you waited for me. Oliver can’t do this...”

My head exploded in stars as sweet fire overtook me, banging my head into the window. It was all over me, like drowning, like nothing I’d ever felt. It was like flying through paradise. There was nothing else. Time stopped, and my climax touched eternity.

The car behind me honked. I looked up, and the man behind me was grimacing. He honked again, longer this time. My lover had disappeared. I waved and drove on.

Five minutes later, I was home.

Oliver wasn’t, which was normal; he wouldn’t be home for another hour, at least. I had always enjoyed my little space of time, but I’d never wanted to see him so badly in my life. I was sure I was having some kind of breakdown. Chemical imbalance, maybe. I couldn’t deny what I’d felt and heard—but I had enough sanity to know that these things couldn’t be based in reality.

I had warmed over bowl of noodles and beef and sat down to read for a bit. Nothing heavy, just an anthology of short fiction. Eventually, my weird feelings got lost in the stories, and I had left my family room far behind, along with my bizarre phantom.

“You need to dress properly for Me.”

My heart jumped to my throat. The voice again, coming from behind me. I didn’t move a muscle. Something flicked at the window. I jerked my head to look.

Nothing. Not one blessed thing.

But the feeling her voice inspired was back, like an unwelcome friend. My pussy was damp and sort of itching, but I could feel it growing. I tried to ignore it and make it go away, but it was slowly getting stronger despite my attempts at self-distraction.

I felt a hand on my breast and nearly screamed. I looked down. There was a hand, obscenely kneading, kneading and kneading my breast through my blouse. Then it was unbuttoning my shirt, and pulling up my bra for unfettered access.

The pressure of my bra pushing down on the tops of my breasts was uncomfortable, but that didn’t keep my nipples from joining in my wanton seduction. They felt like they were connected to every muscle in my body.

The hand was familiar, and another joined in, making me moan with pleasure.

They were my own hands.

I tried to force them down, but it was like my nerves were detached at the shoulders. Then I was standing, shedding my clothes. The pleasure of each act, each motion, combined with the futility of my efforts to stop myself, robbed me of resistance. Not that it would have mattered. I felt tears on my cheeks, but my mouth was beginning to utter little mewls of lustful delight.

“Your body already begins to obey me. Soon, your mind, your life will be mine.”

The voice was everywhere at once. I could see motion at edge of my vision again, but couldn’t get my eyes to turn and look.

I was strutting down the hall now, and I fell against the wall as one hand cupped my mound and the other went to my asshole. My fingers were now lubricated with my juices, but it felt like someone else touching me, violating me in ways that were both beyond delight and beyond horror.

My thoughts sputtered and fled before the pleasure that was consuming me. Fire spread across my skin as my torso bucked and ground against my traitorous hands. I was licking my juices off my fingers and going again, touching myself in ways that were alien to me— completely new—that snaked through my brain like roots that took hold and shook my consciousness like jelly.

Yes. I was jelly. Lovely, sexy, slick, sticky fucking jelly. Anything do anything yes anything for this so good so hot so fucking natural and right.

I looked up and she was there, standing in the doorway to the bedroom and I screamed as orgasm ripped apart my soul. I didn’t care if I was hers or not, only please God let this go on and on and on...

The house was falling and my vision was filled with full lips and latex... beauty and lust beyond anything I’d ever dreamed and... yes, and... love...

And then I was nothing but fire and ice and pulsing lust and desire, orgasm on top of orgasm whipping me into a puddle of willing female fuckflesh...

“YES! FUCKFLESH! I screamed, and another orgasm shred my world in less than a blink of my unseeing eyes...

When I became aware again, she was still looking at me. My tongue was sticky with my juices. My throat was dry and thick.

“Who... are you,” I managed to whisper, grating out my words.

“I am your owner. I control you. You are Mine.”

“No,” I rasped. “Oliver...”

“Oliver doesn’t matter. You are Mine. Dear kimberly, I am your Future.”