The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Describe a situation where you had to manage a dissatisfied customer, and what did you do to change that customer’s opinion?” Jodie asked in her high pitched impression of a married woman. Whenever she wanted to impersonate a married person she would bite her lip, twirl her hair around a finger, and twist her foot coyly behind her. She could do a great sexy-baby voice that was impossible to take seriously. The perfect combination of erotic and juvenile, a learned helplessness that too often passed for normal. Mark loved their inside jokes lampooning sex-silly married couples.

“Well as someone who works closely with IT users, internal clients as well as external customers, I do encounter my share of frustrated people. It’s important to remember that many skilled, competent people did not have the benefit of growing up with computers. It can be embarrassing for a person to admit they might be having a problem, or fear that they will be seen as foolish for not knowing the answer. I’ve found it’s important to separate the problem from the person. Many times people will come to me with issues that seem a little bit goofy because I have years of experience becoming familiar with these sorts of systems. When you treat people with dignity and get to know them as a person—not just the owner of some malfunctioning gadget—it can be a lot easier to get them working with you to solve the problem. This one time—”

“What about your dick?” Jodie giggled reaching for for his crotch. Mark gently parried the advance. “No- no. . . while I understand that some people use their genitals as a way to reduce conflict, I have never found my penis to be at the core of the issue. Instead, I try to focus—”

“What is your experience working with SQL?”

“I have a great deal of experience with SQL. As I was trying to say—back in the dorms I had to create a program to interface with a relay server. SQL was instrumental in setting up a—”

“God, this is so booooring. What do you think of my titties?” Jodie mashed her clothed breasts provocatively. It was Mark’s turn to bite his lip. Jodie was just in her white-button up, still getting dressed for work. Her two perfect mounds playfully rolled beneath the sheer fabric. Jodie smiled like she was robbing a bank.

“I’m actually in an exclusive relationship with my. . . incredibly sexy girlfriend.”

“Damn right.” They shared a kiss.

Coffee dusted the kitchen and the morning’s news paper lay eviscerated between them. Jodie felt wonderful and kissing her brought an helpful smile to Mark’s face. Jodie had an unnatural lunar energy she could tap into right out of bed. Mark was jump-starting his body the same way you would a truck and the world was just beginning to swirl into focus. All last night they’d been at it. Going over possible interview questions. How many gas stations are there in Chicago? What have you done to overcome a personal weakness? What facts do you know about the company and mostly importantly, why we should hire you? This just had to go well today and as Mark churned brown clouds of creamer, impending doom seemed very far away.

Last night had been a gauntlet with even the tired interludes spent trying to tackle Jodie’s problem. Jodie’s company was trying to expand into some new territory. There were no stop signs for success. Until. . . that is, until Susie got promoted. Jodie was volcanic about it. Not that she shouted about it or anything, she would just suck wind and become completely taut like a knife whenever she thought about it. That horrible conniving bitch and that terrible dumb brute Martin. . . . My client! That I worked on for MY project. IN MY DEPARTMENT. Swiped away by a grinning balloon and some loose holes. No, she was fine. She was cool with it. She understood.

Jodie had that look on her face whenever talking about workshy subordinates. Crazy eyes and a tight fist clenching and unclentching in a unconscious stabbing motion. Mark loved her. She’s so smart, and funny, and . . . fucking strong. It wasn’t easy being unmarried this late in life. She was a warrior and Mark loved to hear her stories of corporate conquest. Other people politely disapproved, and in his parents case loudly objected to her being the breadwinner of the house – his unmarried house – but each day Mark found himself listening to the intrigue and sharing a mug with Jodie absolutely blown away by her courage. It wasn’t just stubbornness, Jodie was ambitious and her tenacity pushed him to do better.

Life after college had been rough. Employers asked for 3-5 years of relevant experience for entry level positions, and got it too with a glut of laid-off workers completing for the same criminally underpaid positions. Jodie was able to wow an accounting firm at a campus job fair and from there swung through a series of increasingly well-paid success stories. Jodie loved Mark too, he was sweet, kept in shape, smart, funny, and never trying to pressure her into sexual slavery. So unlike all the cocky layabouts looking to rescue her from meaningful employment. She straightened his tie as they broke apart. He had been futzing with it in the bathroom a hundred times and now it looked mussed and off center. He could be so boyish, it was a little endearing. Mark off to his big interview. Goddamn, he hadn’t thought he could feel so young.

“Ahh! Jeez, get out of here cat.” Bucket weaved his way through their legs as they tried to do dishes like a fuzzy mammalian snake. There was something enormously pleasing about the spot in between moving legs he could not resist.

“So you’ll be back at 9 then?” Mark asked bent over the dishwasher, leg-deep in cat-traps.

“Yeah.” Jodie paused, hating the day. “There’s still so much to do”.

Susie would be taking jurisdiction of the new lot and it made Jodie’s heart feel like crumpled paper. Today Jodie would be playing the foreman, doing all the work. Making sure the electrician’s signed off on the building, that the new manager could read a call-tree correctly, keep the in-house technicians from more than just slouching through some top-shelf pornography. Verify the renovations are finished on time. Yesterday she had to spend half an hour swatting away heavy men in construction jackets from railing Susie. It was like every time she had her back turned, three more had found their way into the happy blond idiot. Susie had taken to the old saying ‘the early bird gets the worm’ a little too literally. The saying was now captioned over a poster of a vieny black dick in Susie’s new office. It had to be laminated to avoid tongue damage, Jodie thought cruelly, wishing Susie a thousand happy accidents on her way to work.

“Cool. I should be finished by two or three. I forget how long these things are.” Mark felt a little ashamed at that. . . but it all could change. It was that close. The line between destitution and gainful employment was just a few hours away. It could be that easy.

The dishes were done. The coffee a filthy smudge at the bottom of the glass.

Seconds knocked by. What was there left to do? It wasn’t quite time to leave. There’s being early and well. . . There’s being early. It was too late to start anything worth doing and nothing that could be started felt worth doing. Outside the kitchen window, the world was opaque with frost. During the night the slightest movement invited frozen gusts under the sheets. Inside it was warm, inside the kettle bubbled and steamed. Outside there were jobs. Outside there was potential. Outside waited the entire rest of the world craning their necks, fearing to blink, fearing to breath—hoping for the day to start.

“Is it too late to go back to bed? There’s like five blankets in there.” Jodie laughed and smiled back at him. Mark felt like he had just won the game.

He could feel the hocus pocus of what he was doing. The lucky tie, scrubbed shoes, Frank Sinatra playlist in the car. It was his battle music. His songs of carefree goodtimes were filled with such sober fatalist optimism, it felt nothing could strike Mark down. A lone warrior with a call to arms. Cause that’s life. He crooned alongside his music. He knew he sounded like a deaf hound but it could make Jodie laugh. Mark wore a vest of superstitions as real and potent as this diarrhetic shaman’s brew he had been drinking. The locals called it coffee.

Mark drove past the building thirty minutes before his interview. Living near his own smallish downtown, Mark felt like a tourist in the business proper. Three or four buildings rocketed into the sky, surrounded by the kneeling vassals of coffee shops, board game emporiums, and restauranteurs stacked on top of each other. He forgot how infuriating city traffic was. Four-lane one-way streets knotted the roads together in a maddening ball of no-yield left turns and brake lights. Parking was either outrageously expensive or non-existent.

The office building wasn’t helping things either. Street access only from the front and a sidestreet festooned with threatening road signs leading around the back. A vast empty parking lot marked ‘Employees Only’ called to Mark like a siren song or a flasher with a new trench coat. Vacant chalked out stalls curtsied at his car, his engine crunching the fuel like a hungry predator gnashing its teeth. Would parking in there leave a bad impression? Would they even find out? Fuck thirty minutes was such a stupid time to be here. Just enough time to not have enough time. The private lots were pricey underground dungeons with no way out. The residential blocks were jammed and sketchy, plus Mark knew he’d never get back in time if he went blindly shopping for a better spot.

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. . .” Mark groaned uncertainly to himself the entire way as his car slowly coasted into one of the empty spots all on its own. He walked back around to the front of the building before entering.

God damn, I’d love to work here. Glass arches opened into a spacious white-tiled lobby. A small tasteful indoor fountain gurgled, spilling water down a jagged mosaic of natural rocks and potted plants. The walls were plated in black marble with green veins bursting through them like emerald lightning. Retail and temping had jaded Mark to workplaces with crusty carpets and yellowed plaster, humid sweat-boxes that felt like the inside of a smoker’s mouth. This ceiling was cavernously high and each step forward echoed with a wooden knock that made crossing the threshold feel like a march towards destiny. Yeah, I could get used to this.

A brunette receptionist tapped at her station, wagging her head gaily. No one was talking to her, it wasn’t really clear what she could be typing about. The great hall was utterly empty but for the two of them. She wore huge prescription glasses and a razor-sharp black pencil skirt with a neat white top. Mark put his hand up in a half-wave as he walked towards her, she didn’t seem to notice. Getting closer Mark began to hear new sounds, lots of groaning and rubber slapping.

Reaching the counter, Mark put down his briefcase and offered his hand for a handshake.

“Hi, I’m Mark. I’m here to interview with Mrs Kaur about the—” Mark trailed off. “An interview. . . At, uhhhh. . . 11:30. . . with. . .” The receptionist still hadn’t acknowledged him. She just pouted and stared dreamily at the screen. She looked sympathetic and envious at the same time, from the two dents in her shirt it was clear she had forsaken a bra this morning. Mark took the liberty to lean over the counter and see what was so enthralling.

On screen, a platinum blond was getting drilled by two steely beefcakes at the same time. She looked so tiny, sandwiched between a few hundred pounds of men. Their rough textured bodies wailing into her, shaking her shiny, liquid-smooth skin in turbulent waves. She rode one on the floor clutching his chest and snarling through bared teeth. The other slipped effortlessly into her from behind. Together they had worked out a rhythm that had her flooding and panting for more. The receptionist just whistled lightly to herself and stared at it vacantly. She shifted in her swivel chair, gliding her thighs back and forth.

“So, do I need a badge or should I wait out here, or can you let her know that—”

“Jesus Christ whoa! Oh my god, sorry, don’t sneak up on a lady like that. Scared the bejesus outa me.” Even her voice was sing-song. Startled, she looked torn between rubbing her crotch through her skirt or looking attentive. Eventually the professional in her won out and she did both.

“Sorry, I’m here for the an interview with Mrs. Kaur?” Mark didn’t mean to say it like a question but it just sort of came out that way. Her big innocent eyes couldn’t handle pointed statements, this one would need some pillow talk. The receptionist was still just staring at him searchingly, like he were made of confusing hieroglyphs with his buttoned suit and more than one layer of clothing. Mark was used to the look, she was just trying to find the best place to hold on for a hard fucking. After a second or two a great big smile took over her face.

“Do I need a badge or, how does this work. I’m supposed to be here by 11:30 there’s—”

“You don’t need a badge to- OOOHHHhhhh. . . You’re here for THE interview. Why didn’t you say so? Just take the elevator up to the eighth floor. Suite 756. Everyone’s waiting up there.”

“Everyone’s waiting? What do you mean everyone’s waiting.” Mark frantically checked his watch. The email said 11:30, it was hardly 11:10 now. How could I have fucked this up already. FUCK! Shit. Damnit. This can’t be right.

“Uh, like all the other candidates. I’ve sent like a dozen of them up there by now. You’re here for the group interview right?”

Group interview. The email said interview. Great, freaking awesome. A two hour pressure cooker with a dozen other desperate potentials. A dozen other people all looking to fill the same limited number of openings and Mark, mousing about in the back. He’d be lucky if the interviewer remembered his name. Most of these people could only remember dick sizes and only then by the bruises they left on the back of their throat. Mark would have to fight to get a word in edgewise. The last one of these he went to the lady had just communicated through hand signals, waving the next in line onto the pile.

“Yes. I’m here for the GROUP interview.” Mark wanted to grind his teeth at her. The word ‘group’ struggled in his mouth like a pelican with a live bird in its cheeks.

“Well, down that hall to the elevators. Eighth floor, suite 756. Good luck!”

“Thanks.” Curse your cheerfulness! Curse it!

It’s just a setback. The group doesn’t change anything. The reasons why they should hire you are still just as valid. Businesses like this can benefit enormously from having someone level-headed and technically knowledgeable around. You have something the rest of these settled, married goofs don’t have: brains. You can do this.

“Oh SHOOT! No no no. . . go back”.

Mark wobbled uncertainly, lurching to a stop. Seconds ticked by as Mark awaited further instructions, one foot still in the air ready to take his next step.

“Sorry, not you silly. No, I was just talking to my video. I missed the cumshot, now I have to start all over.”

“Shucks”. Mark said, snapping his fingers.

At the elevator Mark got his first glimpse of the competition. A man and a woman were already waiting, chatting amicably about the weather. It had warmed up a bit into sunny and mild, but they looked like they had turned it into a riveting back and forth. She was laughing and futzing with her hair—giving his bicep a squeeze to see how tough the muscle was. He was just wearing clean blue-jeans, belted onto a tiny waist with a hard leather strap. He was made out of hilly curves of brawny strength. The woman gnawed her lips like a carnivore, feral and drunk. Mark’s arrival seemed to break the spell.

The man turned and glared at Mark, unsure what order Mark might want to impose on first dibs. The woman worn lacy pink panties that glistened see-through on the front. A similarly pink and synthetic top held her generous breasts up by the nipples, covering them completely from the top. Beneath the elastic band, underboob crouched like the prow of two fleshy ships. She was five feet if she was lucky and the huge tits made her look silly and encumbered. She had to raise her arms over her head to try out the man’s vascular forearm. She shivered and swooned tracing the ridge-line of crisscrossed veins.

The elevator finally arrived. Mark took one back corner of the cramped box and they took the other. It was only after the man had evaluated Mark as not a threat did he introduce himself.

“Hey, I’m Jake. Are you here for the interview too?”

“Mark.” Jake had the grip of a lonely sailor, his palm threaded like ribbed plastic. “Yeah, I’m interviewing as well. Really nice place here. Gorgeous day.”

“Cindy!” The woman broke in. “Isn’t it just the best? Me and Jake here were just talking about how magical the fall’s been. It’s such nice picnic weather don’t you think?”

Jake chuckled warmly. “I was just saying, if I get this job I think I might take my wife out to the park to celebrate. You know, I proposed to her out on the grass after a lunch. Perfect afternoon for a nice long fuck in the park.”

“Oh I know!” Cindy gushed appreciatively. Out-doorsy types were apparently her thing. “I can’t remember the last time my husband took me out some place nice for a good stuffing.” She had moved in again, talking into the crevasse between his pecks.

“Tell you what, after this thing’s over why don’t you and I go have our selves a little fun? I think I’ve got a towel in my car, we could just sixty-nine in the sun.”

Cindy shivered and cooed from some place deep inside her. Some place wired directly to pleasure centers that read ‘get wet’. Her pussy steamed, burned for the handsome woodsman to handle her. Wet lines were beginning to weave their way down the inside of her legs. “Ooooo, you’re going to get me going. You’re bad. God, I thought I worked this off this morning.” She said dabbing at her calves with an already damp tissue. “You know I made my hubby do me raw this morning half a hundred times.”

“He obviously didn’t do his job right.” Jake was starting to crowd her into the corner.

“Nooooo. We shouldn’t do this—now. We should . . . wait. Wait until after the interview.” Cindy weakly put her hands on Jake to push him away. She started at his straining belt. “Besides, that will take like four. . . or” Licking her lips. “FIVE times to calm down.”

“At least.”

Mark checked his watch, 11:20. “Well, you know the interview doesn’t start for another forty minutes or so.” He said helpfully.

Jake blinked once. That didn’t seem right, did it? Cindy just gasped happily at the unwrapped present staring her in the face. It seemed to decide things. Jake wasted no time and lifted up her meager top like peeling an orange, dropping her huge titties into view. They were some truly fabulous tits, high riding balloons of grabbable boobflesh. Cindy just attacked, glomming onto Jake’s front like wounded animal. With her legs wrapped around Jake’s hips, he was finding it difficult to shimmy off her pink underthings. After a few seconds of frustrated tugging, a hard yank ripped them off at the waist.

She was such a tiny thing. Mark himself felt small beside the towering seven foot handyman, she couldn’t be much more than five feet. The way she latched on, positioning herself so needfully, was like watching a squirl climb a tree. Hugging her way up his naked chest until finally their parts matched together.

Cindy’s howling was unearthly. She managed to kick and nudge and tear at Jake’s pants enough to unleash his massive springy erection. Her legs twitched violently as it brushed her lips and the elevator was soon crowded with her begging to ram her. Jake had to pin her against the wall to stop her bucking, plowing her relentlessly. The racket in the enclosed metal box was deafening with Cindy screaming “YES!” over and over. Mark grabbed onto the railing as each thrust jostled their cart just a little bit. Actual steam piped out with each withdraw and every thrust made her splash onto the floor. The enclosed metal room grew significantly more musty, the air dense with hard to breath gases. Deep hypnotic opium odors that sang great ballads about the softness of sheets and the nice long stretch of fucking.

When the elevator opened up on floor eight Mark practically skipped out. He had just enough time before the doors closed to turn around and give them a thumbs-up. Jake nodded back like they had just agreed on a plan to take down some terrorists.

Two down. You got this.