The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The pathway to Jodie’s boss was an easy one to follow. Foot traffic around the office tended to leave a trail, one simply had to follow the discolored speckles on the floor. Jodie had learned the trick after months of getting lost in the maze. The cubicle walls curled like pastel capillaries forming hallways of byzantine negative space that connected everything. Traveling from one department to another by foot was perilous, Jodie couldn’t image the kind of mental fortitude needed of their call tree. It was the kind of thing her cool older single friends had warned her about. There would be many roadblocks to success and sometimes it can all seem a little bit crazy.

The sort of banal platitude the Disney channel might give you, that seems too hopelessly unironic to ever be true. But. . . grows in importance as things start to stand out with time. CRAZY. The prisoners were running the asylum. It was kind of amazing the building was still standing. Everything seemed to get done by word of mouth alone. I mean sure, all around you could see people on phones making cold calls, writing emails, taking customer information. It was all just so goddamn casual. Things got done, when they got done. The website still had typos on it. There were links to employee’s social networking sites in the middle of the digital brochure.

People could access pornographic material through their advertisements! The intern in charge of maintaining the site had accidentally copy pasted her personal URL instead of embedding the link to product information. Her profile picture was a cum-shot from her fiance. Just to the side you could find an entire public album of engagement photos. Elegant blank and whites of a delicate hand pumping up and down a dick, showing off her engagement ring. 1920x1080 resolution photos of her back arched in the air, pulling her fiance’s head down into her with fistfuls of reedy black hair. The bachelorette party album showed at least a half a dozen different men from the chest down, fucking her missionary. The pictures were all the same, her propped up by a bed of naked girlfriends while some chiseled model fucked her from the front. Her delighted smile becoming more faded and wanton with each man. When Jodie had brought up the issue at a team meeting the stupid techies just pointed to how much traffic it drummed up. The links were moved to the front page.

It all worked. At a snail’s pace and in the wrong direction, but everything still held together remarkably well. That meeting prompted immediate action on a problem that had gone unnoticed for months. This must be one of the main intersections, the droplets were more clustered. They were starting to converge and Jodie spotted a familiar landmark. Somehow even new recruits seemed to know their way around the place and how to find everyone, like they weren’t even trying. Jodie had been here for a few years now and still had to rely on tricks to get around. Some sort of secret married person intuition.

“HA! You can’t catch me!” A nude blur darted out from the cubicle on her left, skipping across the hallway. Her long legs flashing like a gazette, naked and astonishingly streamlined. A shimmering plume of tossed hair made a black sail in her wake. It snapped as she flew by.

Jodie managed a graceless pirouette trying to balance her coffee and not stumble at the same time, turning away from collision. The woman waved a pair of basketball shorts behind her like a flag, giggling mischievously from inside her new hidy hole. She was grinning and laughing with transparent joy, though not really looking at Jodie. She was looking behind her at—. A ferocious bull of a man charged after her, tackling Jodie into the wall. Her mug cracked into the woodboard divider and she found herself pinned by a tough male body.

“OH SHIT! Oh shit, I am so sorry. Oh god, are you okay? Are you alright?” The terror and sincerity were there in equal parts. He hunched down to look Jodie in the eyes and righted her against the wall with hardly any effort at all. Huge, truck-like hands just sort of placed her back on her feet like she was nothing. The girl looked half as shaken as Jodie felt.

“It’s all my fault, I’m so sorry. I was just playing this stupid game with Brad. Are you sure you’re all right?” Apparently Jodie had been nodding her head reflexively this whole time. Damnit. No, it’s not alright I should be telling you people off.

“I—”.

Brad pushed back with his own apologies. “We shouldn’t have been so careless. I am so sorry. Hey, at least I didn’t spill any coffee on your blazer there. You look really nice still.” THE COFFEE! This was her big moment. Huge coffee stains from these lunatic’s bedroom antics is not acceptable! She patted herself, fearing damp fabric. Jodie shot a petrified look down her dress—only to snap back up a moment later. No, not his chest, the wall, no- the ceiling. The original owner of the basketball shorts was clear. A meaty prong swung half way to his knees, the head shiny with pre-cum and pointed straight at her belly.

Gross. It was so gross. It was just, like, hanging out there and slimey. Okay, it was a little hot but gross. Okay. Just gross. . . and hot. I don’t have time for this.

“RIGHT! Right! Yes, coffee. Thank god I didn’t get any coffee on me.” Jodie side stepped around, sucking in her gut to avoid the sticky member.

The woman wasn’t finished prostrating herself. “Really I’m so sorry. I feel terrible. We’ve just been playing this game where we steal each others clothes during a customer call. Then we have to run down the thief to get it back. Fuck them absolutely silly when we do. Oh please let me make this up to you, please stay. Let me eat you out. I’m so good at it. You’ll cum super hard, I promise!” She looked like she really meant it.

“Uhhh no. I have to go talk to Martin actually. His office is just down this way right? Just on the left at the end of the hall?” Jodie backpeddled as she said it, already making her escape.

“Yeah, last one on the left, end of the hall. Are you sure you don’t want to stay? I’ve got three or four more shots in this thing and they’re yours if you want them.” He used both hands to take hold of his penis and wagged it at her.

“NO! I- no. Thank you. I’m afraid, I have to go. To a meeting. With Martin. A meeting with Martin.” Jodie turned and walked away her cheeks burning. Her inner highschooler jeered, smooth. Jodie’s subconscious could sneeringly roll her her R’s in a way it never bothered to share with her mouth. Verrrrrry articulate. She was mad with jealousy.

Fuck you! Snarled Jodie. FUCK YOU inner highschooler. She used it, biting down hard on herself. I can do this. Be strong. Be assertive. Be yourself. You’re doing this because you’re right! As Jodie turned the corner she could already hear office equipment rumble off the desk. A brittle crack signaled ‘Brad’ had just knocked off one of the monitors. The woman’s orgasmic wailing rang through the office unmuffled. A few giddy useless prairie dogs poked their heads up to watch.

A stupefied secretary diddled herself, sprawled obscenely in her chair. Jodie could never quite remember her name. This one had taken to changing her hair color and style with the day, and never quite looked the same twice. She seemed to remember Jodie though. Shurl? Cherelle?

“Jodie! Hi, good morning. Do you have an appointment with—”

Jodie walked right by and opened the door. It was unlocked and in one second she was no longer on the outside and safe in thinking of what she might do. This was her boss. The air was thin at the top and here at the summit, Jodie knew she had only reached the base of the mountain. This would be one of the most critical moments of my career. Game face on.

Martin had his feet up on the desk and was gently massaging them when Jodie entered. For a second Martin spooked at the intrusion, jumping in his seat. Seeing that it was just Jodie, instead he stared at her, brow-raised waiting for her say something—still thumbing his toes. At least his computer was on, purring in the corner of his desk.

Stick to the facts. That was your promotion, not hers. This isn’t about emotion. This is about getting what’s mine. I earned it. Before Martin could offer the other chair Jodie was already sitting in it. She crossed her legs and sat perfectly upright. She could find confidence in posture. You are not going to embarrass yourself. You are a lion. A strong, windswept predator of the Serengeti. You can do this.

“G’uh morning Jo—”

“I want to talk about Friday night.”

It hung in the air.

“Doesn’t anyone work here anymore?” Martin craned his neck comically. “It’s all anyone’s talking about. It’s almost noon, I haven’t gotten to an email yet about anything else.” Martin batted his monitor with the back of his finger nails.

“I want to talk about Susie.”

Martin blanched. The laptop flipped shut. He strummed his fingers on the case, contemplating his options. A single glass panel separated him from the outside world. Six stories up, the outside world still seemed so close. Maybe if I just don’t move she wont see me. He had spent his own morning rehearsing as well, now it swirled about in his stomach like a toilet bowl. This would be ugly.

There was no where to go. “Where do you want to start.”

Jodie wanted to tear into him with words. She wanted each syllable to chomp him like a shark. “You never told me. You knew I wanted this. You knew, and you gave it to her anyway. You could have told me, but you didn’t.”

Martin took up his sword. “Jodie. This is a good thing for everyone. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner, that was tacky I know. But, I think you will find we can all benefit from this situation.”

“That promotion should be mine.”

“I think we both need to slow down. Look,” he said unzipping. “Why don’t you just suck on my dick and I’ll flick your bean around a bit. Sound good?”

I need this job. I NEED this job. The thought pounded in Mark’s head. No more side gigs, or unreliable under-the-table work, something with time-sheets and a health plan. No more leaning on my parents for money. You are a talented, sensible, qualified candidate. You can do this. YOU CAN DO THIS! No one else wants this job as much as you, no one else is as prepared as you. This company needs you, and you can do it. It didn’t stop his heart from pounding and anxiety rushed through his veins like acid.

Close to a dozen people huddled in the lobby outside Mrs. Kaur’s office. Mark wondered if there were enough elevators to trap them all. The waiting room was arranged like a parlor, with deep foamy benches ringing the walls. Soft lighting gave the place a sleepy atmosphere and transformed tidy booths into shadowy alcoves. Mark had to squint to make out the analog clock on the wall. Everything had been upholstered a foreboding burgundy red. For a staging area outside someone’s office, the overhead must have been obscene.

A secretary busied behind her little counter, chatting with early arrivals. An open-bar had been built into the side of her desk and she expertly poured drink after drink. Her hands were sticky with sugar and stuck to Mark like sap when he had introduced himself. There didn’t seem to be a sink around and Mark hated the idea of wiping his pants so he just sat there miserably gluing his fingers-tips back and forth. She had just tittered and let one of the other interviewees lick her fingers clean. Her sheer bustier looked like it could be wiped clean with a squeegee.

Mark took the most secluded seat he could find. It was hard. All the booths curved inwards, designed to facilitate conversation he wanted to avoid. Most of the chair cushions were suspiciously damp. Mark thumbed the outside of his leather paper carrier, a gift from his dad on graduation. It was stuffed with a profile of every certification, project, and ticket he could find that sounded remotely relevant to the position. There was no place to put it and Mark felt strangely overdressed with it in his lap. The other candidates didn’t seem to be holding anything.

A trio of handsy competition plopped unceremoniously across from Mark in a single bunch. Two ladies vied for the attention of their male center piece, an Aryan superman with tussled golden hair and a solid body. Out numbered though he looked a little overwhelmed—but still caressed them gamely, giving as good as he got. After a few seconds the cooing brunette splashed against his massive chest noticed that Mark had yet to seamlessly move in and join their collective grope. Perhaps he was more the talkative type.

She had to swallow and catch her breath, like a child remembering to chew their food before speaking. “Isn’t this just amazing! Two years ago I was shoveling top ramen in a slummy dorm room. I never thought I’d get the chance to audition here. Fortune 500 and everything. I’m Janie.” When she spoke you could see full racks of immaculate white teeth, her smile wide to bursting.

Audition. It was funny how some words changed. Fortune 500 had been bouncing around in the back of Mark’s mind for who knows how long. It was a little odd to think of people who used it in a native way.

“It’s pretty incredible.” Mark took in his surroundings again. “This is lavish right? I mean when I go to my dentist it’s still just shag carpet and cheap plastic chairs. I could get used to this.” Stretching out felt amazing, someone here really did have a fantastic nose for comfort.

“Ha, oh I know. I feel like a one of those cats in a fancy feast commercial, it’s not food – it’s fancy feast.” She slithered over to him, purring. A hand found it’s way onto his lap. Her eyes held all the wisdom in the world.

“Take her! Seriously.” Their panzer companion spoke up. “Really, I’ve got my hands full with this one.” He did. With her man all to herself the other lady had quickly worked free his dick and positioned herself on his lap. She was blonde with a large heart shaped ass, and two crescent tits visible from the back. She was already guiding the huge prick into herself with one hand. The other gripped into his shoulder like a rock-face.

“No, I didn’t mean—” Mark never got to explain himself, the blonde’s shivering drown out the noise. Her body quaked as her man lifted along the length of his dick and whatever words she had been concocting, shattered on their way out. Her lips gripped his shaft like velcro and rivulets of molten fluid poured down to its base.

A door opened on the other end of the room. The door. Out stepped a vision of dyed lace and dusky contours. A brilliant sari clung to her body like it had been woven there by lecherous spiders. Seams ached to contain her lovely curves and a swirling geometry of colored silks linked everything together. She was a starry sky and smoldering beauty. She wasn’t Mrs. Anything. She was a madam. She would have been able to oil the swords of every man in the room, commanding a fleet of loyal worshipers. Her voice was lyrical and spoke of lonely nights and their awesome remedy.

“Janie? Janie Wilson?”

“Oop, that’s me. Sorry honey I’ve got to go.” Janie sprung to her feet with the athletics of an acrobat. The hand was gone from Mark’s lap in a heartbeat leaving him to tighten awkwardly in his chair. His erection outraged at being tucked under. Janie swayed across the room, a toned runner’s butt swerving back and forth through the moguls of high heels. Mrs. Kaur offered her hand, palm down, and Janie took it gladly. Mrs. Kaur led her effortlessly into the office, their fingers braiding together. Janie beamed—enraptured at the simple embrace of holding hands. The door closed behind her, and Mark was sad to see her go. The oxygen of the room had surged towards her like an ocean tide and only tickled back when she was gone.

“Excuse me, would you mind moving your- just to the side a bit if you please.” The large man was waving at him with his free hand, gesturing for Mark to take his papers off the small table in the center of the booth. Mark found himself craning over the edge to get a better view of the departing Mrs. Kaur. The man’s other arm still balanced the entire weight of his blond partner by her lower back, maneuvering her up and down his mighty pole.

“Oh, sorry. Of course.” Mark pulled his things back into his lap.

“Much obliged.” The European strongman quickly deposited his squirming woman on the small table top. It was only wide enough for her to rest her ass but she managed to reposition, propping herself up on edge with her arms locked behind her back. With a puff he drilled into her. Mashing his body against hers with long powerful strokes.

“Oh fuck yes! You beast. Fucking harder. God damn you’re unstoppable!” She was squealing. Jagged, guttural exclamations torn their way out of her. “Oh baby, you’re going to make me cum. Oh shit you’re so good! You’re going to make me CUM!” She blushed crimson from her head to her toes and her calves shook violently, digging her heels into his back. Red hot orgasm blew through her mind unimpeded. Her eyelids fluttered uncontrollably and for a second or two all she could see was white. Still he pounded into her, relentless.

She fell back onto the table limp and rigid at the same time. It took a minute or so of hyperventilating before she could speak again. “Let me- let me help you out too babe.” She took on a look of malicious concentration and the German winced like his mouth was full of lemons. Growling, he banged into her harder and faster than ever, blood boiling in his veins. The table-top crunched as if it were made of Styrofoam, the cheap wood snapping under his fingers. The base knocked around on its bolts threatening to rip out of the floor from the lumberjack’s hammering.

“Fuck- how are. . . you even doing that?” The labor of talking and fucking at the same time lagged. The German plunged into her one final time before howling like a wolf. Absolute triumph washed over her face. Even the other randy inebriated interviewees turned to watch. A few of them clapped. After half a minute of sour-faced head twisting, the blonde woman finally released him from her pelvis and he pulled out spraying all over her chest. Scalding white ropes splashed out again and again, his shuddering dick tossing them out like buckets of water from a sinking ship. Laughing, she scooped it up and swallowed it as fast as she could. Her tits shiny, polished with his gunk. Her body flexed in liquid orgasm.

“Shit, your husband is a lucky man. I was barely able to pull out.” The German wheezed.

The blond still sucked on her fingers moaning. “Mmmmmm. . . your wife too. Is that ranch? It tastes like ranch. This would go great with hotwings.”

“Ha, only vegetables for this guy. She’s got me on this diet.” He slapped once at his non-existent belly, his chest a crowded tower of levered tendons. He could crush stones on his stomach doing sit-ups like a convict sea otter.

“Name’s Brandy by the way.” Brandy offered her hand to shake. Mark was still plastered against the back of the booth, his case raised defensively against any drops. Even in his awkwardness and fear, Mark smiled at her name. Somehow girl’s names just seemed to end in a hard EE sound these days, like even their identity had been built for squealing and teddy bear cuddles. Jodie hated it.

“Colin.” Huffed the big man. His hand hand clasped hers entirely, the tiny delicate appendage fully encircled by his meaty digits. “That your drink? I’m dying over here.”

“Love one darling. But not bandy. Sorry! I know it’s fitting and fancy, but I just don’t have the mouth for it. I don’t run on motor oil. Just get me a 7 and 7.”

“Coming right up.” Colin rose like a tired mountain up to the bar.

Brandy flexed backwards on the ruined table top. Colin’s fingers left deep groves and the base tilted like the designer had been working in italics. A bolt wobbled freely on the ground. Brandy twirled her toes in the air beneath the table, her heels dangling, feeling dizzy. Like she had just spun around on the merry-go-round a little too fast.

“So what’s your name?” She finally huffed, blowing out her exhaustion like a cigarette.

“Mark, hey.” He went to offer his hand. It was only when Brandy came out and shook it did Mark remember how crummy with drying glitter lubricant it was.

“Oh shit! Sorry, yeah, I couldn’t find like a towel or anything. I just kind of forgot that was still going on.” Peddles of loose fluid dripped from her hand.

“What?” She looked confused.

“Nothing! Just your . . . hand” Mark said pointing.

“What about my hand?” Brandy looked at it stupefied. It was a rainbow of gluey liquor.

“It’s got . . . you know what—never mind, sorry. Thought I saw something.”

She looked at him again, less warmly than before. The clock ticked. The door to Mrs. Kaur’s office remained closed. It hadn’t been five minutes yet since Janie had wandered through and there were still a dozen people in the room. A white flow spilled over the table top in front of Brandy like packets of stomped mayo, and dripped vines of the stuff down to the floor. She just chuckled and began to pet herself. Mark was glad for the reprieve in conversation, nothing could be more awkward than this.