The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“It seems your luck is running... hot.”

The well-dressed man at the baccarat table was famously good at keeping his cool; no-one else would have noticed him even reacting to her breathy words in his ear. But she was watching very closely, and noticed a very slight intake of breath as she spoke. She smiled.

“Ah, the elusive owner. I was hoping you might join me.” He turned his head to favor her with a look, taking in her tight, sequined black dress, which would have been flashy anywhere but a casino. There, it seemed understated.

She set her purse down, and took a seat at the table. “I generally prefer not to play for money.”

The man handed the shoe of cards on, and turned fully to her. “That’s a bit ironic, isn’t it?”

“I’d rather play for other things.”

“Like certain rare documents, perhaps? Connected to a certain chateau in...”

“Possibly the favors of handsome but overly inquisitive men.”

“Overly inquisitive! Maybe I can scrape up the ante for that game. Shall we?”

“Of course.” She waved to the dealer to cash him out, picked up her purse again, and led the way away from the baccarat table and towards a private table of her own in the back. With a look over her shoulder, she saw that he was following her. “Following my lead already. I like that in a man.”

“Don’t get too used to it.”

She stopped at the top of a low rise of steps, turning fully to face him. With the height of the stairs, she was looking down at him, and his head was level with her crotch, which was barely covered by the hem of her dress. As he noticed this, his eyes seemed to become glued there, and she could see that he was breathing a bit more heavily than the short walk warranted. She smiled again.

After a moment, she said softly, smiling even more, “My eyes are up here.” When his gaze didn’t move, she put a gentle finger under his chin and lifted it. When his eyes finally focused on hers, he had the grace to look abashed.

“Lovely dress,” he finally said, trying to recover his poise.

“Isn’t it?” she replied, turning to walk once again. “It has a feature that I particularly like.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

Arriving at the private table in the back, she took a seat, gesturing to him to shut the doors to the little room that it was set in. Leaning back in the booth, she spread her legs. “Come see for yourself.”

He closed the doors, then raised his eyebrows. “Really? How very inviting of you.”

As he approached her on her seat, he once again caught sight of her crotch, now covered only by a pair of thin and lacy black silk underwear, as the dress had ridden up on her thighs. His gaze was riveted once again, and he hesitated.

She reached up and put a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him down to his knees in front of her. “Afterwards, I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

He stared, and unconsciously licked his lips, but still hesitated.

She reached her other hand down, drew her underwear aside, and slipped a finger inside herself as he watched. Then she slowly pulled that finger out and touched it to his face, drawing a line down his nose and across his mouth. His eyes closed, and he opened his lips to suck on her finger. She pulled his head in to her.

Afterwards, she let him pour them both martinis from the shaker she’d had the staff place by the table before their tryst. When he reached down to hand the first to her, she once again slipped a finger inside herself, then drew it along the rim of the glass, and handed it back to him.

His breath caught as he took it.

“Aren’t you going to hand me mine?”

Flustered, he poured the second martini, and she used the distraction to quietly discard the vial she’d palmed in her hand. She took the offered drink and sipped it.

“Well, I’m pleased to see that my experiment was a success.”

He leaned back languidly, sipping his drink. “This is just an experimental phase you’re going through, then? I suppose your mother will be pleased to hear that.”

She laughed. “Oh, rest her soul, she would have loved it if I’d brought you home. Not that that makes it any less fun to experiment on you. In some ways it makes it better.”

“Well!” He sardonically saluted her with his martini glass. “I suppose I’m happy to be of service.”

“Oh, believe me,” she said, setting her glass down and leaning over him to give him a long, lingering kiss, then grab his glass and tip the last of his drink into his still-open mouth, “you are.”

He swallowed, then licked his lips slowly, eyes narrowing. “Was drugging me part of this experiment?”

She smiled and leaned back again. “Oh, a vital part. At least, drugging you last time was.”

His eyes were beginning to lose focus, but he frowned. “Last time?”

“... which you don’t remember at all, of course, since that was the point. At least, you don’t remember that I drugged you. The drug blocks the formation of episodic memories. So you don’t remember that I drugged you, or that I told you all of my evil plans... or what they were. But as I was hoping, you can still form procedural memories: your body remembers how to do things that you learned while you were drugged. So your cock...” she looked down at the large bulge once again showing in his pants “knows that it’s time to get hard whenever you see me, or hear me, or smell me, or.... mmmm... taste me.” She licked her lips. “But you don’t remember all the fun you had learning that. It’s a bit sad, really.”

He blinked slowly, clearly trying to come up with a response, but already too heavily drugged to form the words.

“Now. Let’s see what else I can teach you...”