The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Butch ground his teeth in frustration. How dare they shut off his cable TV and Internet ... again! Of course, he didn’t pay his bill. What was the point of having mind control powers if you had to pay for things?

He kept badgering the bitch with the sickly sweet voice on the phone to give him a name and address of somebody, anybody, he could talk to face-to-face to straighten this out, but she refused, and his powers didn’t work over the phone.

It gradually dawned on him that the problem was that the cable company, being a big corporation, had locks in the system. So while he could go to the clerk at the local office and get her to override the automated shutoff for a few months, and the manager could override it for a few months more, none of them could make his bill simply ‘go away’. Some faceless accounting department always corrected the ‘error’ when the amount in the cash drawer didn’t match what they had keyed in. He hung up on the corporate billing bitch and thought things over.

The problem wasn’t really any one peon; it was the whole corporate world. Ever since the whole Enron debacle and the Sarbanes-Oxley Act that followed, accounting practices had tightened up until it was starting to look like he would have to either work, or steal, or take up pimping, to make ends meet. None of those options appealed to him ... He didn’t think refusing to give money to corporate fat cats and store owners for their stuff was really stealing. Stealing was just walking up and taking money from actual people.

His girls wouldn’t mind the pimping; they would love anything he told them they loved. But he liked having the last three Miss Wisconsin runners-up as his personal fuck-toys and maids—grabbing the Miss Wisconsin winner three years in a row would have been too noticeable. He tried to tell himself it was all the diseases out there that made him cautious, but the truth was that he simply didn’t like sharing.

The more he thought about how life had screwed him over, the more he realized that the real source of his problem was Washington DC. If he could have a talk with the president, he could both get some laws changed and make all his money problems go away.

Butch walked straight up to the airline counter with his ladies tottering on towering heels behind him. He ignored the grumbling of the people behind him as he cut in line.

“Listen, I scare the hell out of you,” he told the man behind the counter, “and you will do anything you can to get me and my ladies on the first flight to Washington, D.C. ... for free, of course.”

“Yes, Master,” the suddenly trembling clerk replied. “Let me get a manager.”

“Do what you have to,” Butch said grandly, happy to be finally shown some respect by somebody other than his ladies.

The clerk ran into the back and Butch waited. After a short time, Butch heard muffled raised voices followed by “If you want to tell that bastard no, do it to his face! I’d rather quit!”

The manager started when she stepped out of the door. At six and a half feet tall, Butch could be a bit intimidating, even without saying anything. He’d put on a bit of weight in the last three years and now topped over three-hundred pounds, but he still thought she might have the hots for him too. She was kind of cute, and if Butch hadn’t had his ladies along he might have given her ass a ride.

She started to speak, but Butch interrupted. “You are going to use whatever tricks you know to give me and my ladies a free trip to Washington DC. Then you are going to go back in that office and do anything you can, up to and including repeated whorish sex, to keep that nice young man from quitting.”

The manager flushed bright red but, instead of what she intended to say, said only “Yes, Master” and started typing and swiping authorization cards. She was still scarlet when she handed Butch four tickets, then turned back toward her office amidst a chorus of whistles and catcalls from the people watching the scene.

Leaving the other blushing ticket clerks with the free will to ignore what was going on in the back room or not as they chose, he snagged a cart from an employee and rode to where his plane waited.

“I’m sorry sir,” he heard a steward explain to another passenger as he arrived, “I know you have a prepaid ticket, but the airline reserves the right to make changes, especially in the case of a medical emergency. Can I make hotel arrangements for you while you wait for tomorrow’s flight?”

Another attendant took Butch’s tickets, while the bumped passenger explained that he was missing an important conference. As his ladies walked down the gangway into the plane, Butch paused to place a hand on the first attendant’s shoulder and said “Do everything you can to make this man happy about being left behind.”

“In addition to paying for the hotel out of my own pocket if the airline won’t cover it,” the attendant explained, “I have a girlfriend that, if I ask her very nicely, might ...” Butch chuckled as the attendant’s voice faded in the distance behind him. It wasn’t Butch’s fault if the attendant had overestimated how much his girlfriend would do for her boyfriend.

Per his standing instructions whenever he was away from them, his ladies were insuring they were wet and ready for Butch when he arrived. They were trying to be discreet about it—covering their laps with blankets and keeping the groping of themselves and each other above the blanket to a minimum, but they hadn’t managed to escape the attention of an elderly couple in the middle section. The husband was watching avidly, and the wife was stonily staring anywhere but at Butch’s ladies.

Butch leaned toward the couple and said quietly, “You think your wife is more beautiful and sexy than any of these little girls.” He was a bit surprised when both automatically replied “Yes, Master” instead of just the husband.

Butch didn’t like mysteries; so, despite the ready beauties, Butch wasn’t in the mood to fuck. When he ignored them, his ladies settled down and the plane smelled a bit less of female arousal by the time the plane was airborne.

Shortly after the plane was airborne, the elderly couple both went back to the bathroom at the same time.

After watching them leave, one of Butch’s ladies smiled back at him and said, “He believes she is beautiful and sexy. More importantly, she believes that he honestly finds her sexy instead of just flattering her.”

“Ah,” Butch replied simply, and then relaxed now that he had solved the mystery. “I guess that makes me a Good Samaritan then.”

“It might,” she replied with a coy smile.

“You know I am a good and wonderful person,” he repeated emphatically.

“Yes, Master,” chorused all three women and everyone else who heard him.

Butch was in a much better mood by the time the small plane from Madison arrived in Milwaukee. He had several hours to kill between flights, so ordered three gentlemen who looked like they had money to take his ladies clothes shopping while he got himself a new suit.

It took him a couple tries to find a place that both sold suits and did their own alterations—even high dollar suit stores were outsourcing nowadays—but the black linen suit looked nice. Butch figured the store should easily make up for the cost of the suit they gave to Butch, plus the income lost during the time they were closed, plus the refunds for people with suits to pick up (including at least one devastated groom), and the tip that Butch had the manager pay the tailors out of the register. And he even allowed them to work after hours on the other five suits they were shipping to Washington, instead of insisting they finish them immediately.

While Butch had limited himself to adding a single nice suit to his carry-on luggage, his ladies arrived with three confused gentlemen sporting prominent hardons and what appeared to be a large portion of the entire inventory of several stores.

“What happened?” he asked one of his ladies.

“How am I going to pay for this?” one of the men replied instead. “Just because you said so, I had the most incredible sensation while she bought stuff, and when she bought something sexy, I nearly orgasmed ... but I have no idea how I am going to pay for this. I spent all my money, maxed out my credit and my rent is due next week.”

“This was all you three’s idea, not mine,” Butch commanded. “You will figure out how to deal with the consequences yourselves. Now go away.”

“Yes, Master,” all three men chorused before they left.

On the flight from Milwaukee to Washington, Butch’s ladies modeled all of their new clothing. Their little “runway show” earned them quite a few cheers and whistles, especially after Butch made sure even the most prudish of his fellow passengers changed their viewpoints.

The show was smoking hot, and Butch was certainly in the mood for sex well before the plane landed, but the plane was crowded and Butch had to content himself with a blowjob. Feeling magnanimous, Butch ordered all of the ladies on the plane to find a man to blow. He was pretty sure all the men got off the plane with a better attitude than when they boarded.

The good mood didn’t last. At the hotel in Washington, the manager had a harder time figuring out how to give Butch a free room. Butch commanded her to just give him a key while they figured it out, but the hotel used programmed cards that weren’t active until the room was assigned. Finally, growling at the inconvenience, Butch found a passer-by with a credit card to pay for the room for him. Butch’s own credit cards had been closed down long before his cable was shut off.

Butch relaxed in the hotel after his trip and slept in the next day. He tried to tell himself that he wasn’t nervous about seeing the President—he was just in no particular hurry. It didn’t really matter if he saw the President on a Tuesday or a Thursday, as long as he got his way. His dick and his ladies were feeling a bit neglected too.

When Butch did get around to seeing the president, entering the White House went smoother than he expected. An intern took him to see an aide, who took him to see a senator, who called the President and said it was an emergency that he couldn’t discuss over the phone. A few hours later, the senator was guiding him to see the president.

Walking into the White House, Butch was glad that he had worn the suit and kept his ladies behind. There were plenty of pretty females in the White House, but none of the ladies in the White House were wearing outfits that could have passed as lingerie. In his new suit, with the senator at his side, security was no problem.

Upon being admitted to the Oval Office to see the president, Butch wasted no time. The senator asked the secret servicemen to wait outside and, as soon as they left, Butch turned to the president and commanded, “You have suddenly realized that the Sarbanes-Oxley Act places an undue burden on American businesses and must be repealed immediately. This will become your greatest priority, ahead of all other concerns.”

“Anything else?” the President asked.

“Yes,” Butch said. “You will also forget about meeting me and ... wait. Why didn’t you call me master?”

And that’s when a dart launcher hidden in the wall fired, and Butch felt his entire world go black.