The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

PART 3

He was going to do it to her at work.

“Please,” Jaclyn begged in a whisper to the voice only she could hear. “Please, don’t make me do it at work.”

But she knew there would be no mercy.

The voice of her owner spoke in her ear. “Why don’t we play a little game, Jaclyn?”

She flinched, knowing what she was about to hear—and a moment later, she heard it, her trigger phrase: “White Pineapple”.

It was the gift of a vengeful ex-boyfriend—a hypnotic backdoor that made her obey. A week ago, a stranger had shown up a party, and demonstrated to her exactly how well the phrase worked. When she heard the words “white pineapple”, Jaclyn had no choice but to do what she was told.

Now, a week later, she was required to wear a small earpiece, so that the man who controlled her—whose name she didn’t even know—could whisper his commands day and night.

On the night when they first met, Jaclyn’s owner had threatened to make her masturbate in front of her manager at work. In an act of rebellion, Jaclyn had immediately phoned work and taken a week of leave, postponing her humiliation, hoping her owner would grow bored of her.

But her owner had not grown bored, and he liked games. He liked to give Jaclyn choices. He enjoyed making her choose her own degradation. And it seemed like he was in a mood to toy with her today. Jaclyn’s leave had expired, and she was due back at work.

“If you can hear me and you’re a slut, say, ‘Yes, sir’,” said the voice in her ear.

Jaclyn knew she was a slut—she always got so wet from the humiliating things he made her do—so she had no choice but to say, “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl,” said her owner. “Here’s the game we’re going to play. I’m going to give you ten choices today. Each time, you’re going to choose one of the options I give you. If you still have your job at the end of the day, I won’t make you humiliate yourself at work again unless you change your job or become unemployed.”

“Okay,” said Jaclyn. As if she had any choice but to obey. She felt some relief at the idea that there was a chance of keeping her job.

“Good girl,” her owner said. “Now, go to work. Once you’re at your desk, set up the little camera I gave you, so I can see you. You’ll hear from me again once it’s in position.”

Jaclyn worked as a claims assessor at an insurance agency. She dressed professionally, and was used to receiving respect from her co-workers. She’d been dreading the work that must hace accumulated while she was on leave, and indeed, when when she arrived at her desk in the open-plan office, there were already a stack of files waiting for her.

She greeted her co-workers with somewhat nervous smiles, explaining vaguely that she’d been unwell last week, and accepting their sympathies. Once they had returned to their own tastks, Jaclyn put her handbag on the ground, sat at her desk, and clipped the camera her owner had mailed to her to the top of her cubicle, where it would have a good view of her—specifically, it looked down towards her cleavage and her lap..

Immediately, she heard her owner in her ear. “Good girl,” he said. “A good start to a productive day at work, I’m sure. And now it’s time for your first choice.”

Jaclyn tensed. She knew she wasn’t going to like this.

“Take off your panties, or your bra,” said the voice. “Right here at your desk.”

Jaclyn blushed. She should have known this was coming. Her owner’s very first commands to her, a week ago, had involved exposing her body. But it didn’t mean she liked it.

She thought quickly. She knew if she didn’t choose, her owner would make her do both. Normally her bra might be less embarrassing to remove, but she was wearing a white shirt. Without a bra, her nipples would be clearly visible through the fabric. Whereas her skirt was thick and opaque….

Looking around nervously again, she lifted her ass from the seat, put her hands under her skirt, and quickly pulled her panties down her legs and off. It felt weird and slutty to not be wearing underwear at work.

“Good girl,” said her owner. “I knew you wouldn’t hesitate to bare your cunt, because that’s the kind of girl you are. Does having a bare cunt at work make you wet, Jaclyn?”

“Yes,” she whispered, humiliated, because it was true.

“Second choice,” said her owner. “Sluts need to show the world that they’re sluts. Either you can put your panties on your desk, in a visible place,and leave them there all day—or play with that bare slutty pussy of yours right now, at your desk, for five minutes, and don’t stop no matter what.”

She breathed deeply. She thought about her options. There was no way, she thought, that she could masturbate for five minutes without getting caught. It might be that no one would look at her for five minutes, if she was lucky, but she felt sure that pulling up her skirt—or the arm movement necessary to play with herself—would draw attention.

Blushing bright red, she took her panties and put them on her desk, laying them flat to the side of the pile of files. They were black and lacy.

“Good girl,” said her owner again. “Now, why don’t you get some work done?”

She blushed, and tried to work.

Over the next hour, several of her co-workers walked past. Most of them saw her panties. They looked at the panties, then looked at Jaclyn. She blushed deeper, and avoided eye contact. She heard whispered conversations at times from the break room, and felt sure they were about her—about her panty-less cunt.

Only one person asked her about them. Geoff from HR stopped by, looked at the panties, and said, “Everything okay, Jaclyn?”

Her owner hadn’t told her she needed to tell the truth. But what else could she say?

“I’m fine,” she mumbled.

“Are these yours?” he asked, pointing at the panties.

“Yes,” Jaclyn said, blushing bright red.

“Are you wearing any panties right now?” he asked, his eyebrows going up.

“No,” said Jaclyn, even redder.

“Oh,” he said, and, “Okay.” To Jaclyn’s immense relief, he walked off with no further comment.

“Third choice,” said her owner suddenly. “Take a photo of your pussy and send it to the printer, or use the photocopier to take a photo of your bare breasts. Either way, keep the result in your in-tray for the rest of the day.”

Jaclyn shuddered at her owner’s cruelty. Experimentally, she lowered her phone beneath the desk and took a photo of her pussy. She was surprised by how visibly wet it was—but it was also dark under her desk, and not a good photo. She wasn’t sure her owner would allow it, and she felt too nervous to photograph her cunt in better light. Besides, to print the photo she’d have to move it to her work computer—and she couldn’t bear the thought of getting caught with a photo of her vagina on the work IT system.

So she nervously stood and headed to the photocopying room. It was relatively secluded from the office floor—if no one else was using the photocopier, no one would really be looking at her.

She was in luck. The room was empty. Looking around nervously, she pulled her large tits out of her bra, opened the lid of the photocopier, and rested her breasts on the glass. She gently lowered the lid to rest on the upper slopes of her tits, and then pressed the “copy” button.

At that moment, she heard someone walk in behind her. Her eyes went wide. In a split second she analysed her choices—jump upright with her tits bare; or try and stuff her tits back into her top—and settled on one she almost immediately regretted—pushing the photocopier lid down hard on her tits and leaning on it, in an attempt to make it look like she was just resting on top of the photocopier.

By the time she realised how silly a choice it was, it was too late to change it. Her tits were trapped under the photocopier lid, with the full weight of her upper body pressing the lid down painfully onto them. She was bent at the waist, ass out, and her skirt was riding up enough she was worried that her bare cunt might show. The whole pose was ludicrously unnatural.

And worse, the last person had set the copier to 50 copies, so instead of a single black and white scan of her tits, the photocopier was printing copy after copy of her udders.

The person who had walked in was Carl, from customer service.

“Hi Carl,” said Jaclyn awkwardly. She had no idea if he could see that her tits were squashed in the copier. She was filled with shame and embarrassment and just wanted him to leave.

“What…. What are you doing, Jaclyn?” he asked her.

“Oh, just taking a rest,” she said, lamely.

“Are you using the copier?” he asked.

“No,” she said, then, “I mean, yes. Just waiting for my copies to finish.”

“It looks like the copier lid is open a bit,” said Carl. “Is it broken?”

Jaclyn blushed harder. If he could see it was open, surely he could see that she had her tits in the machine—couldn’t he? “Everything’s fine,” she said quickly.

“Hang on, let me try to fix it,” said Carl. He walked up to her. She couldn’t really turn her head to see his expression.

“Please, it’s…” she started to say—but then Carl leaned forward, and pushed the copier lid down, hard—crushing her tits agonisingly. She squealed.

“Is there something stuck under the lid, Jaclyn?” asked Carl.

Jaclyn’s voice caught in her throat. Should she say yes, and admit she was photocopying her tits? Carl surely knew. Surely he could see. But could she admit that?

“No,” she said. “It should close.”

“Okay,” said Carl, pushing it down again, even harder.

Jaclyn moaned in pain.

“No,” said Carl, “I’m pretty sure some stupid bimbo has left something under the lid. Do you think that’s what’s happened, Jaclyn?”

“Yes…” moaned Jaclyn. She just wanted Carl to leave.

But instead he walked around to the output tray and lifted up the most recent copy. Again, Jaclyn couldn’t see. Was it obvious it was a picture of her tits?

Suddenly, Jaclyn’s owner’s voice sounded in her ear. “That’s quite the position you’re in, Jaclyn,” he said. “I didn’t tell you to do that. That’s all you.”

Jaclyn moaned again. How could her owner even see her here?

“Fourth choice, Jaclyn,” said her owner. “And make it quickly while your co-worker is still there. Either tell him to keep trying to close the lid—much harder—or else pull your skirt up to your waist.”

Jaclyn squeaked. Her tits hurt so much. She didn’t like the idea of asking Carl to hurt them more. But she also had another concern—that if Carl pressed harder on the lid, it might break, and then she would have to explain to management how she had broken the photocopier and what she had been photocopying.

Of course, she didn’t like the other option at all, but she was pretty sure Carl already knew she was being a slut.

She reached back and raised her skirt to her waist, exposing her dripping wet cunt.

She heard Carl suck in his breath. “Jesus, Jaclyn, I never knew you were such a slut,” he said. A pause, and then, “I can’t fuck you here. Someone will see.”

Jaclyn said nothing. She didn’t want to fuck him anyway, but she was worried saying something might be against the spirit of the choice she had made.

“Later,” said Carl. “We’ll do it later.”

And then, after a considering pause, he suddenly crumpled up the photocopy of Jaclyn’s tits that was in his hand. He reached forward, and Jaclyn squealed as she felt him part her soaking-wet pussy lips, spreading her fuckhole open, and then push the crumpled-up ball of paper into her pussy, as if she were a human garbage bin. Jaclyn’s face was burning. She felt so humiliated.

“Jeez,” said Carl. “Someone’s made the garbage bin all wet. I’m going to have to wash my hands now.” He picked up the rest of the photocopies, and said, “I’ll go make sure these are appropriately filed.” Then, looking around to make sure he hadn’t been seen, he left with the rest of the photocopies of Jaclyn’s tits—stopping only to push the photocopier lid down on Jaclyn’s breasts one last time….

PART 4

Jaclyn stood at the office photocopier, with her exposed tits trapped between the copying glass and the lid, until she heard her co-worker Carl leave.

When he was gone, Jaclyn stood, pulling her abused tits out from under the lid, stuffed them back into her bra, pulled down her skirt, and went back to her desk, wondering what other horrible choices she would be forced to make by the mysterious man who knew her hypnotic trigger.

It was only when she reached her desk that she remembered she was supposed to keep one of the photocopies she had made of her naked tits in her in-tray. She only had one copy left—Carl had taken the rest—and that was the copy he had crumpled up and pushed into her pussy.

Sitting in her chair, she reached discreetly under her skirt, pulled the paper out of her cunt, and uncrumpled it. It was wet and sticky with her cunt juices, but it still clearly showed the two squashed shapes of her udders. She put it face-up in her in-tray, and hoped no one would look at it.

The voice of her owner spoke in her ear again, through the small earpiece she was wearing. “Time to make it look like you’re doing work again, Jaclyn,” he said. “Fifth choice: use your computer to type a list of every one of your coworkers along with a sex act you’d like them to perform on you; or design a six-month project timeline where the project is your transition from where you are now to being an unemployed pregnant sextoy.”

Jaclyn couldn’t help herself—in her head she started thinking about what such a timeline would look like. It might take her a few months to get pregnant, so she’d have to start fucking early. She could schedule a block of three days of uninterrupted sex with a range of men at her most fertile part of each month…

She shook her head. It was too degrading. She’d do the other thing instead. She opened a text document, and began to go through her co-workers one by one.

“I’d like John to let me suck his cock,” she typed. It was true—John was very good looking. “I’d like Brendan to cum on my tits.” That was less true—she wasn’t interested in Brendan, but she had to come up with one sex act for each co-worker.

“Larger font size, Jaclyn,” said her owner. Blushing, she increased the font to 16 point.

“Larger,” her owner said, and she dialled it up to 24 point. Someone looking over her shoulder would be able to read what she was typing from some distance away.

“And don’t forget the women,” her owner said.

“I would like Caitlyn to lick my pussy until I cum,” she typed. “I would like Erica to suck on my nipples while Rahim ejaculates into my cunt. I want to tongue-kiss Susan. I want Eli to spank me.”

With every name and act, Jaclyn’s cunt was getting wetter and wetter. The fear that someone would see, the explicit nature of the acts, and the embarrassment were all stoking her arousal. She moaned. She wanted to play with her pussy.

It was like her owner could read her mind. “Seventh choice: go to the men’s toilets, take off your skirt completely, and rub your pussy with your fingers till you get to the edge of orgasm and then stop. Or go into the fire escape, get completely naked, and rub your pussy with your shirt until till you orgasm.”

Jaclyn wanted to cum. She wanted to cum badly. But she thought of how wet her shirt would get if she rubbed it against her pussy. She thought of spending the rest of the day in a shirt soaked with her pussy juices.

Instead, she got up, and stealthily entered the men’s toilets.

Luckily, there was no one inside. She quickly pulled off her skirt—leaving her naked below the waist, as her panties were still lying on her desk. She rested her ass against one of the wash basins, and began to finger her cunt.

It felt so good….

Until the door opened. She jumped. It was Carl.

“I thought I saw you go in here,” he said, and before she could say anything, he was pushing her into one of the stalls, forcing her against the wall, opening his fly, and pushing his cock into her pussy.

She went rigid with horror. She was being raped! Only… was it really rape? His cock felt so good in her pussy. She moaned, and relaxed, and then began to buck her hips back against him. His cock felt good, sliding in and out of her fuckhole. The fact that she was being forced, that she had no choice, just made it incredibly hot. She moaned, again, thinking to herself that she sounded like a whore, but she couldn’t help it. She was going to cum. Her owner hadn’t said she couldn’t cum, just that she had to stop masturbating if she was about to. She wasn’t masturbating at all, now…

And a moment later, she did cum, shuddering and shaking with pleasure, and a moment after that she felt Carl shoot hot sperm up into her pussy.

“Fuck, you’re a hot bitch,” gasped Carl, staggering away from her. “You really need that, didn’t you?”

Jaclyn could only blush.

“I thought so,” Carl said. “You’re a good fuck, for such a stupid-looking slut. We’ll do this again.” He used her skirt to wipe his cock clean, then did up his pants and left.

Her owner spoke again. Jaclyn wondered again how he could see her. Had he had extra cameras installed at her work? She glanced up and saw a winking red light on a black plastic circle installed in the ceiling. Was that a camera? Or just a smoke alarm.

“You’re a popular slut, Jaclyn,” her owner said. “Eighth choice: right here and now, use your fingers to transfer your co-worker’s cum from your pussy to your face, and rub it into your skin. Or go back to your desk, and transfer it from your pussy to your mouth while sitting at your desk, and then rub your pussy until you need to cum again.”

Jaclyn felt numb—but hopeful. Choice eight. Only two more after this. She thought about her options. Playing with her pussy at her desk was difficult, as she had thought about before—but having cum shining visibly on her face was worse.

Besides, Jaclyn was still a bit horny, and not thinking straight, and playing with her pussy sounded fun…

But when Jaclyn got back to her desk, she stopped in horror. She had been full of lust when she stood up, not really paying attention, but now the full scene was visible to her. Her black lace panties, lying on her desk. The photocopy of her tits, still sticky with her cunt juices. And the long list of how she wanted her co-workers to sexually abuse her, in 24-point font, still wide open on her screen.

She looked around wildly. Had people seen? They must have. Some of her co-workers were looking at her. Were they smirking? Was it just her imagination?

She sat down and saved and closed the file. (She didn’t know why she saved, other than that it might please her owner.)

Slowly, she reached under her skirt—noting the cum stains Carl had left on it—and pushed her fingers into her pussy. Then she drew them out, dripping with sperm, and licked them clean.

She looked around. Had anyone seen? Was anyone watching? Did her co-workers know that she was sitting at her desk, eating fresh cum out of her pussy?

She sent her fingers back for another mouthful.

As she brought her fingers to her lips and started sucking on them, she froze. Geoff, from HR, was looking right at her. Staring at her as she sucked on her fingers. She felt her blush intensifying.

“Don’t stop, Jaclyn,” said her master’s voice in her ear.

Jaclyn tried to look away, but Geoff was still staring at her. There was no way for her to get another mouthful of cum without him seeing what she was doing—but her master wouldn’t let her stop.

She reached under skirt, fingered her pussy, and brought out another dollop of cum.

Geoff’s eyes widened.

She put her fingers in her mouth and sucked them clean.

Geoff tapped the man working next to him—an older man named Ian—on the shoulder. Ian turned to look, and his eyes widened too.

Jaclyn tried to pretend she wasn’t the world’s biggest whore as she fed herself another fingerful of cum, and another. Blessedly, Geoff and Ian didn’t draw her to the attention of anyone else. They just watched.

Soon she was bringing nothing out of her cunt except her own juices, so she now began to masturbate. It must have been completely clear to Geoff and Ian that she was finger-raping her pussy, but she couldn’t resist her master’s orders. She started by rubbing her clit, but soon she was violently finger-banging her fuckhole…

.. until she felt her orgasm coming, and was finally able to stop, just short of release. She was making a little pitiful whining noise from her need to cum. If she’d had freedom, she would have made herself orgasm, but the hypnotic compulsion didn’t allow her. Her master had told her to stop when she needed to cum.

“Ninth choice,” said her owner. “Cause yourself simultaneous sexual pleasure, degradation or pain with every item of stationery on your desk, making sure to include your tits, anus, and pussy—no orgasms allowed—OR browse rape porn on your office computer until someone comments on it.”

She moaned. She couldn’t browse porn. She’d be fired for sure. So she guessed it was the other thing.

She collected up all the pens on her desk and pushed them into her pussy. There were a lot, and it distended her fuckhole a little. Geoff and Ian were still watching, but she didn’t care—she just had to get through this.

She took a plastic glue-stick, and lifted herself off the chair a little so she could push it into her ass. She had eleven bulldog clips—she managed to clip four on each of her cunt lips, which hurt; one on her clitoris, which hurt a lot; which left one for each of her nipples.

Her elastic bands went around the base of each of her tits. This involved pulling her tits out of her shirt. George and Ian were really getting an eyeful now, but Jaclyn wasn’t thinking clearly from the need to cum and the pain in her pussy. She put six elastic bands around the base of each breast, making them bulge lewdly, before stuffing them back into her bra.

She wrote “RAPE ME” on a post-it note and stuck it to her inner thigh. (She assumed she didn’t have to use up the whole packet.) She took her stapler and fired a staple into her left tit—which hurt like a bitch.

Her paperclips presented a problem, until she worked out how to connect them into a chain, hang the heavy bottle of white-out from it, and connect the whole thing to her clitoris clamp so it would dangle between her legs as a painful weight.

Finally, she used her sticky tape to stick her pussy lips to her inner thighs, spreading her cunt open, and then used her scissors to cut the top two buttons off her shirt, preventing it from closing properly over her bra.

She sat there, satisfied, her cunt spread, her pussy and tits in pain, a glue stick stuffed up her ass, delighted with herself for finishing her ninth choice.

“Good girl,” said her owner. “Last choice: email the list of co-worker sex acts you made to the entire office, and then stay in the condition you are now for the rest of the day; or crawl on all fours to your nearest co-worker, male or female, and beg them to rape you in the toilets, and if they don’t accept, crawl to the next, and so on until someone accepts or until you’re fired.”

Jaclyn moaned, and pulled up the sex acts list she had made earlier. It was even sluttier than she remembered. Had she really written that she wanted Keith to slap her tits and make her call him “daddy”?

Still, it was better than explicitly asking for sex from everyone in the office.

But it wouldn’t be everyone, she thought. Geoff was nearby. He’d been watching her be a whore. He’d want to fuck her. It would just be one person.

Well, two. Geoff and Ian were still together. She couldn’t very well ask Geoff, but not Ian.

She wondered if they’d fuck her one at a time, or double-team her. She wondered if they’d take the clips off her pussy and tits, or leave them on. She wondered why speculating was somehow making her even wetter…

Mind completely clouded with lust, Jaclyn slowly got down off her chair onto all fours. Her elastic-banded tits popped out of her bra, into public view, but Jaclyn didn’t notice. The white-out bottle at the end of its paperclip chain pulled on her clitoris as she began to slowly crawl forward.

The rest of the immediate work area were watching Jaclyn in astonishment, but she was oblivious. Her gaze was focused exclusively on Geoff and Ian—or more particularly, their groins…

“Geoff and Ian,” she heard herself saying. “I’m so wet. Can you take me to the men’s toilets and rape me? Please? I need it so much….”

And it was true. She did.

And they did.