The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

WeaverFeed Quiz: Your True Self

AUTHORS NOTES:

This trip features The Weaver’s own unique spin on the standard personality quiz. BDantes thought this type of quiz might be a good addition to the Weaververse. Feedback welcome at !

SYNOPSIS:

Lawyer Emma and her assistant Olivia try out WeaverFeed Quiz: Your True Self off the recommendation of Olivia’s friend. Ten seemingly benign questions guide them towards an ongoing journey of self-discovery.

DISCLAIMERS:

  • This story is a work of fiction; any apparent resemblance between the characters in this story and any actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental and unintentional.
  • Do not read this story if you are under the age of 18 or if explicit sexual fiction is illegal in your jurisdiction.
  • This story contains mind control and explicit descriptions of a sexual nature. If any of these concepts disturb you, please find something else to read.
  • This story is a work of erotic fantasy. It is not meant to reflect real life, nor should it be read as an endorsement of the actions and attitudes contained within.

“Hello, Olivia.” I say as I nearly walk past my assistant on the way into my recently acquired office at Dewey, Howe, Druthers, and Mayfield. It’s not a corner office or anything, but hey, I’ve got an assistant so there are worse lots in life.

Speaking of, Olivia seems a bit preoccupied looking at something on her computer, but after standing near her for a good minute, she eventually looks up to greet me. “Good morning, Miss Scarlett.”

At thirty-two, I’ve got about ten years on her, but she’s a quick study, a good worker, and over the past two weeks since I got my promotion and she started working for me, I’ve started to think of her as a friend as well as a coworker. “It’s Emma. I’m your boss, but I’m not your BOSS.”

Olivia smiles. “Right. Emma. Totally. I’ve got a coffee waiting on your desk, two creams, no sugar, and your morning is clear until 11.”

“So, what you’re saying is, I could’ve slept in.”

Olivia laughs a bit. “Probably.”

I loop around her desk. “What are you working on?”

“Oh.” Olivia blushes a bit. “It’s not work.”

“Oh,” I echo back to her, “then I’m even more intrigued.”

I lean down and see that she’s looking at the starter screen of some sort of personality quiz on her computer. The kind of thing that tells you what TV character you are or what your spirit animal is.

“A friend sent it to me,” she starts to explain. “She said it was surprisingly accurate. Her words. I’m only just past the loading screen, but based on this first question, it seems pretty standard faire.”

“Ooo. Well, I’ll take it and we’ll compare results. DM it to me.”

“Yeah?” She asks.

I nod. “Yeah. And bring your laptop into my office. We’ll take it at the same time.”

A couple minutes out of my day—totally worth it for some bonding.

Besides, I’m free until 11.

I walk in and Olivia follows.

I put my purse down and open up my laptop and click the link in Olivia’s message.

As I wait for it for the site to load, Olivia settles in on my leather couch. She has the perfect posture of youth. Even if I didn’t know that she trains for marathons on weekends, I could tell based on her lithe build and sculpted calves. She keeps her dark brown hair up in a carefree pony tail and wears minimal makeup. Her clothes are understatedly professional, mirroring my own tendencies to muted tones and full coverage. I wonder what she sees when she looks at me. Does she see the bags under my eyes or is my makeup job good enough to cover them? Does she feel like I’m ancient to her or does the dark blonde dye job fool her into thinking we’re closer in age? Does this business suit make me look frumpy or boyishly boob-free? I mean, how could I not look frumpy next to her with that body?

With a heavy sigh, I return my gaze to my laptop screen and it pulsates with energy. The colors swirl so much that it feels like they leave the screen and actually wash over me. When the sensation stops, I immediately sip my coffee to counteract the woozy feeling. Maybe it is too early for this. But I look back at Olivia and she gives me an energetic thumbs-up.

I read the screen.

Welcome to WeaveFeed Quiz: Your True Self.

We’ve compiled all forty-two female archetypes and can identify you accurately based on your answers to ten simple questions, as well as the amount of time it takes you to choose.

If you’re a male and have reached this page in error, please click this link to take the male version of this quiz. Thank you.

That text seems to know when I’m done reading and is replaced by question one.

It’s four colored squares—Red Square, Blue Square, Pink Square, Purple Square. I’m supposed to pick one.

“This quiz does seem pretty simple.” I call over to Olivia.

“I wonder what the forty-two archetypes are...”

“Yeah. Me too. Maybe they’ll tell us at the end.”

“What color block are you going to choose?” Olivia asks.

“Hey! No cheating!” I say as I select the red square and question two loads.

Question Two—pictures of a Mountain, a Forest, a Beach, and a Field.

I select the forest and move on to question three.

Question Three—a Hot Dog, a Sundae, a Salad, and a Steak.

I select the steak.

“You on question four?” Olivia asks.

“Yeah.” I say, intent on the screen.

“Me too…” Olivia says, trailing off.

Question Four—a Pint of Beer, a Glass of Wine, a Martini, and some kind of Shot.

I select the martini and question five loads.

Question Five—Footsie Pajamas, Boy Shorts and a Tank Top, Lingerie, or Nude. (The model’s back faces away from the camera, but I have to assume she’s nude because I see no clothes on her body.)

I assume this is asking me how I like to sleep and select the boy shorts and tank top.

I can tell by the intense humming that Olivia is having a hard time with this particular question.

Question Six—a Lollipop, Whipped Cream, Handcuffs, or a Vibrator.

I choose the vibrator, even as I hear Olivia murmuring quietly, “Heh. Who’d choose the vibrator?”

Question Seven—Cherries, Chocolate, Banana, or Strawberries.

I pick the banana.

Question Eight—Dorm Party, Dive Bar, Candlelit Dinner, or Couch Overlooking a TV.

I pick the dive bar.

Question Nine—A Bouquet of Roses, a Necklace, a Puppy, or a Car.

I pick the car.

“I’m moving on to question ten,” I call out to Olivia who is biting her lip, looking at her screen.

“Right behind you, boss!”

Question Ten—only two choices for this one—a heart or a dollar sign.

I’m a lawyer.

As much as I appreciate love, and hope to someday find it, I pick the dollar sign.

Calculating…

Calculating…

You are 32 percent Dominatrix.

Well, that’s good to know in case that ever comes up as a party banter question.

You are 47 percent Boss.

And that’s like it’s almost as if it was eavesdropping on my conversation with Olivia mere minutes ago…

But your true self is…

I’m waiting…

The Whore

To you, sex is a currency and your body handles ALL transactions. You keenly understand that pleasure and profit don’t have to be mutually exclusive. You constantly seek to refine your skills in the art of seduction and your appearance to achieve your dreams and goals.

When you find this quiz to be surprisingly accurate, pass it along to all of your friends.

Um. Yeah. Don’t think I will be sharing this with anyone, thank you very much.

Even as a try to shake off this insult, Olivia reads her results aloud as they come up. Based on my results, I’d say this is a bad idea.

“Heh, I’m twenty-three percent schoolgirl… and apparently thirty-one percent hetaera… going to have to Google that one. And my true self is… the Lipstick Lesbian?!? Um. What?”

“Do you think your friend sent us to some joke site?”

“Why? What’d you get?” She asks, curious.

“I don’t want to say.” I rebut, but she goes on.

“I just told you I got lipstick lesbian. I’ll even read the description.” Olivia clears her throat dramatically and continues. “You appreciate all things girly, including girls. Your makeup is on point, as is your fashion sense. There’s nothing you like more than suckling another girl’s breasts or licking her until she screams and you use your powerful feminine wiles to accomplish this whenever possible.”

“Wow. I got whore. I honestly don’t know which of us won here, but I think it was you.”

“What’s the description on whore?”

“I’m not reading this aloud. It’s an HR violation waiting to happen. If you must know, though, it’s still up on my screen.”

Olivia nearly drops her laptop to the floor in her rush to get behind my desk and read my screen.

“Wow” is all she can say.

Wow, indeed.

Olivia whips out her cell phone. “I’m texting my friend to see what she got that was so surprisingly accurate.”

Moments later, her phone chimes with a response.

“I think she got the ditz.”

“Is that accurate?”

“Um. Now that I think about it, yeah…”

Olivia holds her phone screen up to show that the message says “dits” and has ten or so emoticons surrounding the misspelled word.

“How are you friends?” I ask.

Olivia seems distant for a second, pondering. “I don’t know…” She then slowly walks across my office to the couch, retrieves her laptop, and exits, closing the door behind her. She’s probably embarrassed. She doesn’t know me well enough to know I’m not going to hold this against her, I guess.

It’s nine-thirty.

I have an hour and a half to shake off this experience before my first meeting.

I finish clearing my inbox after about forty minutes of wading through inquiries and responding when Olivia gently knocks on my door.

“Hey…” She says demurely.

I greet her with a bright “hi” to try to convey that we’re cool, everything’s cool, there’s nothing to worry about.

“Do you need… anything?” She asks.

It’s weird. It’s like the word “anything” is somehow charged the way she says it. Like there’s more to the offer than the surface. Also, for some reason, she seems to be avoiding making eye contact with me. She’s clearly still mortified at our quiz results.

“When I need something, you’ll know.” I say. I meant to just say “no,” but that all slipped out like there was no connection from my brain to my tongue. No harm done, though, just… odd.

She turns away and only after she’s left do I realize that she’s changed her hair style. She’s lost the pony tail and her brown hair cascades down in waves to her shoulders. It seems like something I would’ve commented on earlier. I guess I got so wrapped up in that quiz and the daily idea of using her standard pony tail to guide her tongue to my pussy that I just didn’t notice. Oh well, when I go to get coffee number two before my meeting, I’ll be sure to compliment her. She seems like the type that appreciates compliments and therefore can be manipulated by them.

I give myself ample time to stop by and check in on Olivia and grab a coffee on the way to my meeting. There’s something different about her, but I can’t quite place my finger on it. Her hair is perfectly styled with highlights. Her makeup is bright and welcoming. She must spend hours getting ready each morning. Maybe… maybe it’s a new sundress. The way she’s leaning towards me, with me staring down at her, I can clearly see her lacy bra under it. I can almost see all the way down to her panties. Admittedly, I’m a little disappointed in the “almost.” Something to be remedied.

“New dress?” I ask.

Olivia nods enthusiastically. “You like?”

“You look good enough to eat.”

Olivia blushes, then quietly says, “So do you.”

“This old thing,” I say with a spin.

Unlike her flowing sundress, my outfit is tight in all the right places, highlighting both my shelf of an ass and the shelf of my cleavage. I lean down to see if she’ll attempt to see my panties, even if they’re completely blocked by my C-cup breasts. I need to know this outfit is effective, after all. She does and with a little bit of a nervous swallow at that. She doesn’t even break eye contact from my tits when I say, “Clear my schedule after this meeting. I have a job or two that will require our full attentions.”

I pivot on my three-inch heels and walk toward the break room, purposefully sashaying my glorious ass back at Olivia to ensure she knows that I’m more than just a great pair of tits.

Another young up-and-coming lawyer at the firm, Chris Druthers, is pouring himself a cup of coffee from the pot as I enter the kitchen area.

“If you don’t leave me any, I’ll have to spank you.” I say to him.

He turns and regards me with a double take. “Em—Emma?”

“If you’ve been nice. Miss Scarlett, if you’ve been naughty.” I run a finger down the lapel of his blazer. “Or if you’re planning on being naughty.”

I don’t need to read minds to know his smile says he’s thinking some very naughty things. There are probably many benefits in keeping our relationship very friendly. Maybe we can negotiate a friends with benefits, quid pro quo situation. As a fellow lawyer, I’m sure he’d appreciate that. As a man regarding me, all of me, with those hungry eyes of his, I know he will.

“We should do some work together. After hours.” I say with a wolf-like smile to match his.

“I’ll have my assistant talk to yours.”

“Do.” I say as I turn and leave without a coffee.

I find that I don’t need one. I’m buzzing on an altogether different energy.

My eleven-a.m. meeting is a divorce.

I’m representing the husband, Marcus—some pretty boy who married rich. The wife, Margaret or something, should have known that you can’t marry someone half your age and not expect him to fuck around on you, even if you lavish him with cars and clothes. It’s just not how the world works. Monogamy is a myth.

On entry, Maggie’s sweaty, balding lawyer pushes some paperwork to me from across the table. It’s a pretty substantial offer.

I stand. “I’m going to need a few minutes alone with my client.”

“By all means.” Maggie’s lawyer says and I lead Marcus out of the room.

“I don’t know… I think I could get more… I deserve more… ” He chants as we walk down the hall. I pull him into the first empty room I find with a lock and no windows.

“I’m a good lawyer,” I say as I lock the door behind me.

“That’s why I hired you. That’s why I should get more.”

I turn back towards him on my four inch heels. “You didn’t let me finish. I’m a good lawyer, but I’m a better fuck. You take this offer and I’ll let you take me right here.”

He’s eager. He’s probably thought about this moment since he first met me. His fingers are fumbling with his zipper as soon as the words are out of my mouth.

I push my panties down and hike my skirt up to show him the prize pussy he’s dreamed about pounding.

I grip his cock, stroking it to life, and leaning into his ear to whisper, “Tell me I’m the best legal counsel you’ve ever had.”

He grunts. I assume that’s a yes, especially since his dick seems to be in absolute agreement.

I push him back onto the conference table and climb atop, then lower down on his rod, squeezing my box to grip and milk him as he enters me. I grab his hands for support so I can focus on bouncing up and down. I don’t want to fall off of the table, after all. That would be unprofessional.

“Show me your tits.” He mutters through a clenched jaw.

“What? Is my cunny not good enough for you?”

Despite the protest, I lean back, placing my hands on either side of his legs while he works my coat open to unleash my girls. He throbs a bit and I can tell he’s nearly there once he catches sight of my titties. You’d think he’d never seen D’s before. Or maybe just never laid eyes on a pair as perfect as mine. Tits made to be fondled, kissed, and adored.

Just a couple more frantic thrusts and he blasts my cunt with cum. I keep on grinding, riding him until he’s soft again, enjoying the pleasure of our exchange to its fullest.

“So that you know,” I say, straightening up my outfit, “That falls under billable hours.”

He’s catching his breath and tucking his shrunken dick back into his pants when he asks, “Can we do that again sometime?”

“The next time you need a lawyer.”

You’d think Maggie and her own lawyer felt like something was up by the way they glared at us as we reentered the room. I’m a professional. I returned calm, composed, and collected. I can’t account for Marcus, however. Ultimately, they were happy to get their paperwork signed and be done with it all. I honestly can’t blame her for wanting out of the marriage. He’s decent looking, but he’s got a hair trigger. She could afford much better sex than that. If you’re paying for it, girl, always get your money’s worth.

Another successful legal outcome achieved, I strut back to my office with an accomplished smile, gliding high atop my stripper heels. A near full-leg above them, my micro skirt isn’t indecent, so long as I don’t bend over to pick something up. My sports coat is ready to burst, with just one well-timed deep breath, to reveal the see-through nylon camisole underneath. My jet-black hair is tucked up into a tight business-ready bun that can easily be undone for fun with the pull of one little pin, if that suits me. Emma Scarlett is ready for whatever the situation requires, from business to pleasure at a moment’s notice.

Seeing Olivia stand as I approach, I know that this particular moment calls for pleasure. Her gauzy pink sundress shows no signs of underwear and a clear indication of everything else. Her breasts, at a full B-cup, are more boobies than tits like mine, but her protruding nipples look no less suckable. Her kissable face, with bright pink lips, framed by her short blonde bob. As she stands, looking at me, I see her rubbing her legs together and clearly her face is one rub shy of a moan.

I walk past her, commanding, “Come.”

I feel her excitedly scurry in behind me, before closing the door like a good girl.

I drop to the couch, spreading my legs wide, “Lick me, lesbian.”

She groans in pleasure when she hears both the command and what I’ve called her.

She lifts her dress up over her head, revealing a flawless, pale naked form, before dropping to her knees to begin some expert licking. She clearly knows her way around a clit, doing tongue acrobatics that I’ll have to take note of. It appears I could learn a few things from this talented assistant of mine. Of course, I’m not without some surprises of my own. With those specific thoughts in my head, I grab her hair and grind against her lips and tongue, knowing full well how to bring myself to the quickest orgasm possible. She looks up at me with desirous, pleading eyes and I grant her my cum, coating her mouth to chin in my juices as I shudder and moan.

She showcases that wonderfully long tongue as she licks up those juices. “You taste good, whore.”

“That’s Miss Scarlett, naughty girl.” I coo, then walk to my desk, shedding my remaining clothes along the way, grabbing my girthiest toy from my desk drawer. “And, because you’re such a naughty girl, I’m going to treat you as such.”

I was going to spend time teasing Olivia, working her up to a lather, but I discover that she’s already quite wet. She sees my surprise and answers it. “I’ve been thinking about you all day since you told me to clear your schedule.”

“Good.” I utter as I work the dildo deep into her sopping hole. As I build up my tempo, her moans increase in frequency. I lean down and suck on her right nipple. It’s pink and the size of my pinkie. She pulls my head up to kiss me and I can still taste myself on her lips. She forces her long tongue into my mouth, like she’s fighting for an upper hand or control. Having none of that, I plunge my pointer finger up her ass and she screams out an orgasm. The walls to my office are thick, but even if she’s been heard, they knew who they hired and promoted. They know I use both my mind and my body for the firm. I’m happy to know I can also use Olivia’s body now that I know her proclivity towards women.

Unlike some other partners from today, I can tell Olivia is nowhere near done when she shamelessly asks, “What else you got?”

Accepting her challenge, we work our way through my entire drawer of toys. Our Sapphic pleasures culminating in a luxurious double-ended dildo screw. Olivia passes out, but after we’ve easily had at least a dozen orgasms each.

Coming down from all my cums, I return to my desk chair, naked but for my heels. I see the screen from the quiz identifying me as The Whore. Realizing just how surprisingly accurate the result is, that I am unabashedly, decidedly a whore, I copy the link and send it out to every woman I know. I’m sure my Lipstick Lesbian assistant Olivia will do the same when she wakes up. I look over at her sleeping naked form and crank up the nearest vibrator.

Eventually, everyone should get a chance to know their true self.