The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

RADIO STATION

The lights gray out in the radio station studio for a hot second, leading the DJ, Jeremiah, to ask his in-house producer, “What was that?”

“Our system crashed,” Grayson says back to him matter-of-factly.

“What do you mean our system crashed? Don’t we have like shit to prevent that. Backup generators and stuff?”

“Okay, I understand that there was one two-syllable word in that statement so let me break it down for your further — the files that were inside…” Grayson takes the time to charade “inside” before continuing. “… the computer aren’t in there anymore.”

“How does that happen?”

“A surge, a pulse… a disgruntled morning drive-time DJ…”

“Wait,” Jeremiah says, doing the math on that last option. “You think Zeke the Freak did this?”

“It’s not outside of the realm of possibility.” Then, Grayson adds, slower, “Which is to say maybe.”

“Why do you always dog me, Grayson?”

Grayson cuts his mic from the control booth to the studio so he can be honest for a moment, “Because you’re a dumb pseudo-jock, button mashing monkey with only a modicum of talent, if that, and I’m tired of carrying your floating ass.”

“Um, Grayson,” Jeremiah says, condescendingly, “Your mic wasn’t on. I didn’t hear a word you said, buddy.”

“I said it’s just part of the witty banter we always enjoy,” Grayson says with a forced smile on his face and in his voice, like he were placating a child. “Look, we’ll be live momentarily. Just take requests and I’ll upload them to the system as they come in, okay?”

“Requests?!?” Jeremiah says with the same tone a six-year-old might give “lima beans.” “But people have shit taste.”

“But… you’ll have them asking for it, so they’ll be the ones to blame, not you.”

Though you’ll be the one to blame when this all inevitably goes south, you ignorant twit, Grayson thinks.

“And we’re back!” Jeremiah speaks live to air, his voice half-preppy, half-strip club DJ. “As a special gift to you, DJ Jeremiah’s delivering a surprise all-request hour to his faithful Jere-mites. So light up my line with your wants and I’ll give you want you crave. And we already have our first caller on line one. What’s your name and what’s your song?”

“It’s your old pal Teddy and I wanna hear Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked.”

Jeremiah watches Grayson type and the song appears on his blank screen.

“Who am I to deny an old pal, here’s Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked for good old Teddy.”

JULIETTE ARMSTRONG

Juliette Armstrong was getting bored waiting patiently in her mini-van outside of the twin’s elementary school. There were only so many ways she could picture making dinner before she ran out of unique interpretations of mac and cheese. Accidentally pregnant with twins towards the end of her senior year of college, she had to put her life and her dreams on hold to raise the boys, only now just a few weeks into the first grade. Doing the math, she realized she was two years away from missing out on enjoying the entirety of her twenties. As much as she loved Jayden and Joseph, and even their father John most of the time, she knew there was no getting those years back.

On top of that constant stream of self-evaluation, she hated making people wait so she was always wherever she needed to be incredibly early, but she also hated waiting herself, so always being early chipped away at her otherwise chipper demeanor.

She feels that recurring nag of self-doubt, of wondering where other choices may have led her, and decides to redo her makeup in the rear-view mirror. Her looks were an ongoing point of pride and embracing them was a sure-fire way to right her emotional ship.

While she may be twenty-eight, a nightly skin regimen has kept her youthful glow and she still gets carded for alcohol. If she’s out with the twins, she’s been asked on more than one occasion how much she charges for her babysitting services. She was forward-thinking enough to lose the baby weight as soon as possible so it wouldn’t linger on her body any longer than necessary. The one benefit to her body in becoming a mom was her breasts went up two cups sizes, from barely-there As to nice, full Cs. She’d even heard some neighborhood teens refer to her as a milf while she was out on a morning jog before John went to work and left her with all of her household duties. She got the boys to school that day and then proudly paraded around the house, calling herself a “milf” in every mirror she passed as she cleaned. The thought was, if she was being honest with herself, getting her hot. She turned on the car to roll down the windows and heard a little bit of a song on the radio.

Her traditional blonde “mom-do” fell in straight black with severe bangs.

Her daytime makeup got darker as well, with wine red lips and whorish blush.

Her body got tighter, her breasts lifted up by a constricting top with a built in shelf to put them nicely on display. Her hand brushed past her miniskirt to touch the shiny leather of her knee-high black boots.

She looked at her face in the mirror and felt her mind shift fully.

The brats are six years old, she thinks. That’s old enough to fend for themselves. Mommy needs some action.

With that thought, Juliette pulls her car away from the elementary school and directs it from suburbia to downtown.

She pulls over to go into a seedy liquor store, but the business adjacent to it pulls her interests more.

It’s mid-afternoon at Player’s so the clientele is mostly unattractive old dudes and the stripper on the stage looks only mildly interested in what she’s doing.

The manager, Mikey, sees the woman enter and steps away from the DJ booth feeling like the midday patrons won’t care what Coral dances to.

“Hi, I’m Mikey,” he says, extending a hand out to Juliette. “I’m the manager here.”

“What does it take to dance here, Mikey? Do I need to blow you or something?” Juliette says.

Mikey steps back. She’s a looker. Not too young, but not too old. Good body. Sexy. Looks like she could eat a man alive. He’s well overdue for a blowjob, but doesn’t want to just jump at it in case she’s a narc or an undercover TV reporter.

“Why don’t you hop on stage and show me what you got?”

Mikey gestures to the stage and Juliette pushes past him. She shoves Coral to the back of the stage. Coral only doesn’t beat her face to a pulp because Mikey waves that off. Juliette feels the leering eyes of the three gentlemen around the stage and relishes it. She feels naughty just being up there and wants to go further into the feeling. She uses both hands to tug the shirt off her torso, exposing her naked top to some hoots and hollers. She wastes no time dropping her skirt down her legs, revealing her naked pussy to these strangers and getting even more excited at the idea. She uses her boot to kick the skirt off the stage and Mikey catches it in one hand. She does one circle around the pole and then falls to her knees, bending backward and slapping at her pussy. She dips a finger in and that’s when Mikey is absolutely certain she’s no cop or reporter. She looks at one of the customers and then sucks on that finger. She flips onto all fours and points her firm ass at another one of them, slapping it so hard that the red mark stays even after the hand moves away. Not wanting to leave the third man out, she grabs the back of his head and forces his face between her tits, gyrating a little and nearly suffocating the life out of him. If he had to go, though, this is how he’d want to go. The song ends and the typically frugal gentlemen toss more than a couple dollars her way. She grabs them each and gives a little air kiss for each of them to remember as thanks.

She struts off the stage.

“So, do I get the gig?”

“What’s your name?”

“Jewels. Like give me something pretty and I’ll do whatever you want.”

“I have a lot of pretty things to offer you, but first, let’s talk about that blowjob…”

Mikey puts his hand in the small of Juliette’s back and leads her, naked save her boots, back to his office.

She’ll blow him back there, then snort coke off of his desk. He’ll snort coke out of her cleavage before fucking her from behind. Everything she does that even seems a little wicked, brings a smile to her face and gives her renewed energy. She spends the entire night working the floor, the pole, and the champagne room at Player’s. She leaves a well-earned two thousand dollars richer, but with a good plan for that money. She’s going to drive directly to the airport and buy the first ticket to Las Vegas she can find. Something about “Sin City” calls to her, appeals to her. She’ll just have to find someone willing to join the mile high club with her on the way, because now that she’s thought about it, she can’t help but try to make it a reality.

John will eventually get a call from the school, pick up the boys, and worry about where his wife has gone.

RADIO STATION

“I hope you’re enjoying our spontaneous request hour. Caller, what’s your name and what’s your song?”

“I’m Derek and I wanna hear Stacy’s Mom.”

SYDNEY RYAN

“Hey mom!” Sydney says excitedly the moment she hears the phone pickup through the bluetooth in her car.

“Hey darling. How was school?”

“The usual, classrooms and lessons, nothing to report.”

“Come on, Syd. You can do better than that.”

“Well,” Sydney says, “I did wipe the floor with Hunter in Debate.”

“Hunter? Your boyfriend Hunter?”

“The one. He’s the only Hunter in my grade, mom. I was wondering, would it be okay if I went over to his place to study?”

“To study what exactly?” Sydney’s mom asks with a suspicious tone.

“Physics, mom. Sheesh.” Sydney isn’t annoyed so much as she doesn’t understand why her mom would think anything different or question her. As an absolute good girl, she’s never given her a reason to wonder. Always home on time. Always getting good grades. Always hanging out with the right crowd. All of this, plus she’s promised to save herself until she’s in college. That may be next year, but the pressure to lose her cherry has only increased as senior year moves along. Sydney’s mom should be thankful that she’s got a daughter with such a good head on her shoulders. At least, that’s Sydney’s opinion of the situation.

“I know I don’t have to ask. I know you’re a good cookie. I just feel like I’d lose my parent card if I didn’t. They’d probably kick me out of the PTA and I’d be forced to, I don’t know, sell crack on the streets.”

“Mom!”

“What?”

“The closest you’ve ever come to selling crack on the streets was the cheerleading bake sale.”

“In my defense, a lot of people said my cupcakes were addictive. You know what my special ingredient is?”

“Love?”

“No. Butter.” Her mom laughs, pleased with her corny joke. “But I love you.”

“I love you too, mom.”

“Have fun with Hunter. Tell him I say ‘hi.’”

“Will do. I won’t be home late.”

“I know. Call if you need anything.”

As soon as Sydney ends the call, the radio kicks in and surrounds her with a familiar song. As she listens to the lyrics, her opinion of her mom — with all the corny jokes and constant love and support — does a 180. Sydney grows suspicious of her mom.

Why did she want me to say hi to Hunter for her? Sydney thinks. It’s not like the two of them have had all that much interacting… unless they have. Mom’s been single since dad left. And she’s a woman. And I know she’s had sex, because she had to in order to have me, so she’s probably a horny woman at that. Oh. My. God. Mom wants to seduce Hunter. She wants to do him behind my back. I know she hasn’t yet, because I can read that bitch like the back of my hand, but at this point, it’s only a matter of time. I could dump him, but then he’d be easy pickings for her. Fuck. That. I’m going to give him something he can’t get from my mom. I’m going to give him my hot teenage body. I’m like a younger, better version of her anyway. If he’s had me, there’s no way he’d have any appetite left for her.

Sydney’s lucky that, despite speeding through the neighborhood, she gets to Hunter’s house without being pulled over.

She knocks on the door and is greeted by Hunter’s mom. “Hi Sydney. Hunter’s up in his room if you want to go on up. I’m picking up some pizza, you going to stay for dinner.”

“I’m very hungry, Mrs. G. Thirsty too. You should totally take your time and stock up.”

“…okay…” Hunter’s mom says a bit confused by the change in tone from what she’d expect from sweet, young Sydney.

Sydney strides into Hunter’s room and plants a breathtaking kiss on him. It lasts for minutes, with tongues darting into opposite mouths and Sydney gripping the back of his head to keep him in place. Hunter is stunned and falls back into study mode in the hopes that he can avoid showing off the pants-tenting boner she’s given him.

“So… physics… right?” Hunter says, fumbling for a coherent statement.

“I have a physics conundrum for you.” Sydney says, eyeballing her boyfriend and licking her lips.

“Shoot.”

“How much force would it take for you to get that dick inside my pussy?”

Hunter stands up, crossing past Sydney to shut his door.

“Omigod, Sydney. My mom’s downstairs.”

“So… she fucked your dad to make you, didn’t she?”

Hunter squares up to her and asks, “Are you on drugs?”

“No. I just want to be on you.” Sydney says and to drive her point home, she grips his cock through his jeans.

“Fuck…” he says, fighting a lost battle against his judgment.

“Exactly,” she says.

She lets go of his dick so that she can start to peel her uniform off her body. As someone who has dreamed of what she looks like naked, piecing together the bits of her body he’s seen in her swimsuits, this is a moment Hunter has lived for, but thought could never, would never arrive. Sydney’s the president of Purity Club, after all. They’ve barely hit first base together, but now she’s standing in her white cotton panties in the middle of his room and thumbing the band, ready to drop them any moment. Hunter commits to going all the way right then, not caring why she’s had this change of heart. He doesn’t care about anything she’s said previously, he doesn’t care if his mom is downstairs. If Sydney Ryan is going to get naked in his room, then he’s going to fuck her.

“These come off when you’re good and naked,” Sydney taunts as she loosens her bra and holds onto the side of her panties.

Hunter sets a land speed record for shucking clothes. He’s quickly naked, with a hard dick pointing at Sydney.

She admires it for a moment, then removes her bra completely. She has perky, cone-shaped breasts with tiny pink nipples. Hunter wants to fondle them, kiss them, suck on them. Then, she drops her panties to the ground and every fantasy he’s ever had about the two of them having sex swings through his head. Her hairy mound glistens. Hunter knows that foreplay is something for some other time and so is making love. This is about fucking her hard and fast.

Emboldened, Hunter grips the back of her head and repeats the kiss from earlier, but with him in charge of her. She almost purrs as their bodies connect. She can feel his hardness press against her and he can feel her breasts mash against his chest. He pulls away from the kiss and pushes her to the floor, positioning himself between her legs. He hesitates just long enough for her to say, “Do it.”

He presses up against her. He feels like there’s no way he’ll ever break through, but when he does, he feels her warm, wet embrace all around his dick. He starts slow, enjoying every sensation, but the wanton look on her face makes him want to pump and pump and pump into her.

She moans and he knows that she’s enjoying it as much as he is, their sweaty bodies becoming one on the floor of his room.

He’s nearing completion when she says the oddest thing to him. “Tell me you’re never going to fuck my mom!”

“What?”

“Tell me!”

“I’m never going to fuck your mom.”

Sydney cums, her moans and the feeling of her shivering pussy setting him off inside of her.

He cradles her against his chest. The pair of them trying to catch their breath. His face scrunches, quizzically, and he asks, “Why would I ever want to fuck your mom?”

Sydney kisses him, then says, “Exactly.”

But there’s a part of her inside that will always wonder if his eye will ever wander to the older Ryan woman and so, she’ll have to keep upping the ante, making sure all of his fantasies are fulfilled and that he’s never horny without release. She wants him to never have even a flighting thought of fucking her bitch of a mom who is actually at home right now thinking nothing but pleasant thoughts of her angelic daughter.

RADIO STATION

“Hi, I’m Juliette, I’m listening while I wait for my flight to Vegas and thinking of what you look like naked Jeremiah.”

“Whoa. Hello Juliette. You sure you don’t want to come on down to the station?”

“We board in thirty minutes. There’s just no time. However, I could take you to the bathroom with me —“

“Yes! Let’s do that! But first let’s get your song on the air.”

“Play Homewrecker for me.”

“That sounds appropriate. Here you go —“

ALAINA LOPEZ

Alaina Lopez prefers to get to Roman Meyer’s condo with ample time to finish before he gets home from work. It’s not that she doesn’t like Roman or seeing Roman for that matter, she just likes to be as invisible as possible — get in, clean, grab the check and leave — for all of her clients. Roman has particularly kind eyes and, when he’s home, he tries to help her. She thinks having someone clean for him, especially a woman so young, makes him feel bad and Alaina can’t have that. She needs all of the money she makes to keep her head above water. She’s not about to drown having made it successfully through her mid-twenties. She’s finishing her college degree at night and making ends meet with menial labor during the day. It’s not so bad. She usually just zones out to the radio, losing herself to the music and the effort of washing, wiping, sweeping, vacuuming, and polishing.

For some strange reason, his stereo won’t turn on. She’s forced to clean in silence. She hums a tune or two, here and there, to keep herself focussed.

As she wipes down the stereo, she sees the reason that it wouldn’t work before — it’s unplugged. She’s immediately excited to be able to finish things off the last few tasks with some musical accompaniment.

The song plays and she looks at the clock.

It’s 530.

She knows he’ll be home soon.

She doesn’t have much time.

Alaina kills the radio and hides the clothes she sheds, standing in only her apron and nothing else, primed and ready for Roman’s arrival, periodically pinching her nipples so they’re perked and ready.

She’s left standing in the dark for a good twenty minutes before she hears his keys in the lock. He flips the lights on and, as he’s initially stunned to see Alaina there, standing in the dark.

“Oh, hi, Alaina. How are you doing?” He says politely, before seeing her legs and her arms and the sides of her breasts, realizing that apron is the only thing on her body.

“Um—“ he starts, but she approaches, putting a finger to his lips.

“Shh. Strip. We don’t know how long we have until your wife gets home.”

Roman is confused. “I — I don’t have a wife…”

“That’s right, lover. When I’m around, you don’t. You have me. Your Alaina. Someday you’ll leave that zorra, but until then, we fuck in the bed you share with her so that when you have to be in it with her, you will still think of me.”

Roman had never thought of Alaina sexually before this moment, but seeing some of her curvy body, he’s ready to see more. He reaches behind her and unties the apron. Her breasts don’t disappoint, they’re large with big brown areola and nipples. Her pussy is hairy. After a rough day of work, everything about her looks inviting. Before he can even make his first move, Alaina is on her knees and unbuckling his belt, tearing open his pants, and releasing his dick from its confines.

She strokes it with her hand, bringing

“Oh, Mister Meyer,” Alaina says, feigning a much thicker accent than she’s ever had in her life. “Your pene looks too too dirty and in need of a good cleaning.”

She looks up at him, her pretty brown eyes looking wanting and distressed.

He runs his fingers through her wavy black hair, before gripping hard, and commanding, “Clean it, Alaina.”

“Yes, sir.” She says and descends upon his dick, taking the whole thing into her mouth and to the back of her throat.

Roman grunts and grips her hair even harder, forcing her face up and down faster and faster until he can’t hold back any longer. He shoots rope after rope into her mouth. She continues until his grip releases from her hair. She lets his shaft fall from her mouth only so that she can take long lingering licks up and down it.

He smiles down at her. “Much cleaner.”

“Look, “ she says as she opens her mouth up towards him. “No mess.”

Not ready to let whatever is going on end, Roman decides to press his luck with this situation, saying, “I think your services are needed in the bedroom.”

Alaina giggles and quickly darts deeper into the condo, followed slowly by a pants-less Roman. By the time he arrives, she’s spread eagle on his bed and slowly dipping a finger into her pussy. He stands in the doorway. “I’m going to watch you do your work for a while, if you don’t mind.”

She doesn’t say anything, but when she starts to use two fingers from her right hand, while fondling her breast with her left, he assumes she’s on board. She starts to get incredibly into her ministrations, chanting over and over. “Oh Roman. Oh my Roman…” This is enough to rouse Roman’s rod again and he strokes it back to full life as he watches the young Latina getting herself off in his bed.

Alaina spies his hard cock and says, “Come to me, lover.”

Roman joins her on the bed, getting between her two legs, and plunging his dick into her wet and ready hole. Seeking to get deeper still, he positions the back of her knees on his shoulders and thrusts all the way into her pussy, earning moans of encouragement.

“Fuck me,” she says. “Fuck my maricón, you hijo de puta.”

He doesn’t know exactly what he’s saying, but the message is clear regardless. He gets more forceful, thrusting harder, angrier, wanting nothing but to punish her all the way to her orgasm.

He flips her over, entering her from behind so that he can grip her hips to drive deeper still. Even with her face buried deep in his pillows, her orgasmic screams echo through the entire condo.

“Joder! Joder! Joder!”

Roman grunts and spills his second load, this one into her pussy. He pulls out and she lays down on her backside, her beautiful brown skin glistening with sweat. She pulls him down into a kiss. “You’ve made a mess of my maricón, papi. That’s okay. It’s my favorite kind of mess. But you know how much I love to clean…”

She pulls his hips forward until his softening dick is close enough to her mouth so that she can lick and suck her own juices off of it. Once she’s satisfied that it’s clean enough, she lets him saddle up to her, holding her tightly to his body.

She enjoys this for a moment, before seeing the clock and how much time has passed. “I should go. I don’t want your esposa seeing us naked and together… just yet.”

Roman, thinking this is some sort of kinky role play, plays along with her statement. “Not yet. But soon, lover.”

“Amante,” she sexily coos, wrapping her arms around his neck for one last kiss. She gets dressed and leaves him, but she leaves her panties hidden in his couch, hopeful that his wife will find them and that she’ll finally have him all to herself.

RADIO STATION

Jeremiah speaks to the radio waves, “We’re three songs into our all-request hour and I’m sad to say I can’t give you a play-by-play of what Juliette just said and did for me off-the-air without fear of losing my job for violating a dozen FCC rules. I’m still here. I’m going hard — a lot harder than a couple minutes ago — and I’m ready. So, to my listening audience… what’s your name and what’s your request?”