The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“You know,” said Dr Malik Kendle as he sipped his whisky, “there ought to be a law against sending such a pretty girl out on a night like this.”

As if to illustrate the point, the rain came spitting hard against the widows. It was three days before Christmas, but so far as the weather was concerned there was little in the way of festive cheer. It was cold and dark, and the wind was blowing a gale. Really, Dr Malik thought, the girl was much better off in here, standing on the rug in front of the fire. (There were radiators in every room of the house, but in the Doctor’s opinion if you wanted warmth and comfort then you couldn’t do better than a proper open fire.)

The doctor’s son, Michael, to whom the remark was addressed, shrugged his shoulders and said, “She’s doing it for charity, I guess.”

He sounded terminally bored, but that was nothing new. Michael was twenty-one: boredom was his standard response to life. When I was his age, the doctor thought, if I’d found myself in his situation I’d have thought that I had died and gone to heaven. The problem was that Michael had grown up in the doctor’s house and for the last few years he had been the main beneficiary of the doctor’s unusual talents. He had learned to take them for granted. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing unusual about sitting in his father’s front room with a glass of whisky close to hand and a naked female university student a couple of feet away.

“It’s a fair enough point,” the Doctor said. “You are doing this all in a good cause, aren’t you, my dear?”

The girl nodded, but looked a bit uncertain, which was understandable. Ten minutes before, she had been knocking at the front door of the house on Mulberry Avenue and thinking, with relief, that she only had two more streets to go before she could head down the Sailor’s Inn and get well-earned beer. It would not have been easy for her to explain how she came to be standing in front of the tall and elegant doctor and his short and scruffy son wearing just an ankle bracelet and a smile. Her head was muzzy, as if she’d had too much to drink and her memories were like a pack of cards which somebody had scattered on the floor. She remembered the door swinging open, and the dark, bearded face staring at her out of the gloom. She remembered thinking, “what a lovely room”, and then, “hasn’t he got the most extraordinary eyes?” then everything had seemed to go fuzzy. Somewhere in that warm, enveloping haze she had heard his voice urging her into the lounge... " It’s an awful night to be out. Why don’t you come in and get yourself out of those wet clothes...” and then she really didn’t remember anything else.

“What’s the charity you’re collecting for, my dear?”

Before the girl had a chance to answer, Michael interrupted. “For heaven’s sake! You can’t go around talking to women in that sexist way, not in this day and age.”

The doctor responded with a conspiratorial wink.

“That’s my son, the expert on manners and etiquette. Won’t hold a door open for a lady, even lets his girlfriends pay when he takes them for a meal but he thinks he can lecture me on the right way to speak to a woman.”

“All I’m saying,” said Michael. “Is the girl has a name and I think it would be nice to use it.”

“A name?” said the doctor. “Well, I’m sure you’re right. I’m sure she must have a name. What is your name, my dear?”

“Jane,” came the reply. “Jane McHenry.”

“Well, Jane, all I can say is you must be a very good girl to come out on such a vile night just to collect sponsorship for charity.”

“Oh, honestly, dad, you really are incorrigible. You can’t go around calling independent young ladies ‘good litle girls’.”

“I called her a good girl, not a good little girl,” his father corrected.

“Good girl, good little girl, it’s still sexist.”

“Stuff and nonsense. Jane doesn’t mind me calling her a good little girl. You don’t mind, do you Jane?”

Jane made a noise in her throat to indicate that she agreed. Or perhaps that she disagreed. It was hard to be sure. Truth to tell, she hadn’t be listening too hard to what the doctor was saying, except to notice just how nice his voice was. Right this moment, she was more preoccupied with the problem of her right hand.

The hand in question seemed to have developed a will of its own. Every time she heard the phrases ‘good girl’ or ‘good little girl’ it developed a powerful urge to insinuate itself between her legs.

It was really quite shocking when you stopped to think about it. Here she was in the presence of these two male strangers and her fingers kept wanting to wander into the copper coloured thatch where her thighs met.

Jane took hold of her right hand with her left and drew it firmly away. She held it for a minute or two, then began to feel a little bit foolish. It occurred to her that she couldn’t spend the whole evening keeping hold of her right hand. She needed somewhere to put it. After glancing at the doctor she decided the best place would be on top of her left breast. This was clearly an excellent idea, because her hand felt very nice there and she saw that the doctor was smiling at her as if she had helped him proved a point.

“You see,” he said. “She wants to be a good girl. She wants to be obliging and helpful. That’s right, isn’t it, Jane?”

For some unexplained reason, Jane’s fingers had developed into eager little claws which were alternately rubbing and tugging at the skin around her nipples. As her fingertips caressed the swollen flesh, she was surprised and embarrassed to realise they were wet. She tried to tell herself that it was only rain water, but she knew it was not. The wetness was warmer than rain water. And stickier.

She must have been touching herself. Right here, in front of these men. It was so embarrassing that she had to take her other hand and put it on her other breast. As soon as her fingers connected with her neglected nipple she started to feel better.

“Yes, that’s right,” she answered slowly. “That is so... so... right.”

“Which charity are you collecting for?” asked Dr Malik.

“Cancer research.”

Given how muddled her head was, Jane found it quite nice to be given a question which she could answer with confidence.

“Oh that’s good,” the doctor said. “That really is very good indeed.” (Jane’s fingers tightened on the swollen tips and she let out a moan.) “And such an unusual way of raising money as well.”

Jane frowned. She didn’t think that there was anything unusual about being sponsored to do a five mile run. It happened all the time. But, she really didn’t feel she ought to be arguing with the Doctor, not when he had such lovely eyes and spoke with such authority.

“I’m sorry?” she said. “I don’t quite understand.”

“Well, it’s certainly unusual to me,” the doctor said. “But then again, I’m old fashioned and a bit behind the times. Still, I’d never heard of it before. Have you ever heard of it before, Michael?”

The doctor’s son shook his head.

“I mean, raising money for charity by performing sponsored sex acts. It’s a very unusual idea.” He picked up Jane’s sponsor sheet and pretended to study the contents. “Still, you seem to have got it all sorted outed. One pound for each hand job, two pounds for a blow job, five pounds for full intercourse and—what’s this?—ten pounds for ‘special extras’. Now I wonder what they could be.”

As he spoke, the doctor extended an arm and ran his finger down the length of the girl’s spine, moving in a smooth, steady sweep which ended in the cleft of her buttocks. He left it there, and Jane found that she was shivering.

She was also a bit worried. Not too worried. It was impossible to be too worried with her head so warm and fuzzy, but she couldn’t help feeling that something was not altogether right.

She said. “It doesn’t—I don’t—Does it really say that?”

“Sure it does. Take a look for yourself.”

He handed Jane the paper and she stared at it for several long minutes, before handing it back with a baffled little laugh which suggested she thought she was the victim of a practical joke, and wasn’t quite sure how it worked.

“I can’t read,“she said.

“No,of course you can’t,” said the Doctor. “It’s all a bit much for your pretty, fluffy head, isn’t it? Still, you don’t need to be able to read just now, because I can tell you exactly what the paper says and you always believe what your doctor tells you, don’t you?”

“Sure I do,” said Jane. She was smiling again, pleased that her temporary confusion had been solved.

The doctor’s son laughed softly.

“You’re really getting off on this, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean?“said his father.

“You really love taking a bright, intelligent girl and turning her into a bimbo.”

“I haven’t turned her into a bimbo. Jane’s nothing like a bimbo, are you? She’s just a girl who wants to do everything she can in order to raise money for charity. Isn’t that right, my dear?”

“Oh, yes, doctor. Absolutely.”

“And if that means allowing men she’s never met before to practice any kind of sexual act they fancy, then she’s more than happy to do it.”

“Oh yes. More than happy.”

Jane realised she was playing with herself again. She knew she wasn’t meant to, but she simply couldn’t help it. Something about the way the doctor spoke just made her lose all sense of inhibition.

“In fact, I’d say you just can’t wait to kneel on that rug in front of my son and let him put his cock in your mouth. Would you agree with that?”

Jane agreed. She couldn’t recall a time when she had agreed with anything so much.

“Than you’d better go and do it, hadn’t you?”

She was a little nervous and her fingers fumbled as she undid Michael’s trousers. She grew a lot more nervous when she saw the size of his prick. She wished she had had more practice at this. Several of the men she’d been with had wanted her to do it, but she’d never liked the idea. She wished she’d remembered that before agreeing to this charity idea. Still, it was too late now. No way of turning back. She tilted her head and brought her lips down on the tip of his cock.

He groaned with appreciation and she gave it an experimental lick. It didn’t taste as bad as she’d feared. In fact it was positively pleasant. She caught the doctor’s eye, and saw that he was smiling. She opened her mouth a bit wider and let the boy’s penis penetrate more fully. Judging from the noises he was making, her lack of experience was not spoiling his enjoyment.

“Be careful of my carpet,” the doctor warned.

Jane knew what he meant. She moved her lips a little further down the boy’s shaft and tightened the grip of her mouth to ensure there would be no spillage when the final moments came.

It was just as well she did: the force when he came was like a fountain in her mouth. She kept her lips on him all the way, slurping and sucking it down.

When he withdrew, she felt a sense of loss.

“Did I do it all right?”

“Very nice indeed.” His voice had lost its tone of condescension, he actually sounded shaky. She liked him better that way.

“Dad,” he said. “You couldn’t lend me a couple of quid, could you? I need to pay this lady.”

The doctor frowned.

“Surely you’re not thinking of letting her go already. There’s so much more the two of you could do. And it’s all for a good cause, don’t forget.”

“After that,” said Michael. “I don’t think there’s anything else I could do. Not for half an hour at least.”

“I think you under estimate yourself.”

Michael glanced down and found that his father was right. Stiffness was already beginning to return to the previously flaccid member.

“Think of it as my little gift to you. A birthday present.”

“It’s not my birthday.”

“Ah well, I’m sure you won’t let that stop you. And I’m sure Jane will be happy to help you. You will be happy, won’t you Jane?”

Jane was nodding enthusiastically. She couldn’t recall the last time that she had felt so happy.

“Are you sure you don’t want to give her a go?” said Michael. “In the interest of charity, you know.” He had already got his shirt off and was starting to step out of his trousers. Jane had positioned herself on the rug in front of the fire. Her legs were wide apart. The doctor looked down at her and sighed. If things had been different, he could easily have been tempted. But things were not different. It had been a long time since he had been able to take any personal pleasure from the women who came to the house. These days, the games he played were all performed inside head or carried out for the benefit of others.

“It’s OK, son.” said Dr Malik. “Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll sit this one out. You enjoy yourself, though.”

“Oh, I intend to,” said Michael. He was completely naked now, and if anything his cock was bigger and harder than it had been before he had come. Jane was looking up at him with admiration. She strained to open wider as he pushed himself inside her.

She gave a deep, contented sigh as Michael’s prick travelled its full length, and then he began to thrust in earnest. She gave back as good as she got, determined to give him as much pleasure as she could, to do everything for charity. The doctor picked up his drink and closed the door behind him.

In the privacy of his study he listened to the noises as the two young people made love. Jane was mostly quiet through the early part, just the occasional moan, or sudden, stifled sigh. But it was very clear to everyone when her climactic moment arrived.

There was silence for a few minutes afterwards, and the doctor heard the young student says. “You’re not—? You haven’t—? Oh!” Her voice was surprised but far from displeased. “Oh, all right them.” And a few minutes later, the noises started up again.

The doctor smiled. He had had the idea from the moment he first saw her that Jane would be capable of powerful and sustained sexual response and it was always pleasing when he events proved him right. Of course, Michael might not be quite so pleased when he discovered that his father’s “birthday present” was something of a two edged sword. Still the boy was young and fit. The physiological tweaking would not do any long-term harm.

The doctor smiled with contentment. He touched the glass to his lips and replaced it on the floor. Jane was approaching her third orgasm and saying some very, VERY rude words when the doctor fell asleep.

The fire had burned out by the time he awoke and a chill had crept into the room. He opened his eyes and saw his son in the doorway. The boy was cast in silhouette by light from the other room and the doctor could see that his excitement had finally subsided.

“You bastard,” said Michael. There was laughter in his voice, but it sounded a little forced.

“Anything the matter?”

“You know perfectly well,” said Michael.

“Oh come on, there’s no sense in sounding so annoyed. You enjoyed yourself didn’t you?”

“Not as much as she did.”

“What do you mean?”

“Seven times,” snapped Michael. “I had to make her come seven times before I was able to make it myself. By the end I was so wound up I was hardly even sure which hole I was putting it in.”

“I hope she was keeping track,” said the Doctor. “You’re meant to be paying different rates for different orifices.”

“Oh that’s all right,” said Michael. “By the end, we decided that it wasn’t really worth being too fussy about what had been done and when. I said we’d call it thirty quid and have done with it. " He grinned. “I took the money out of your wallet. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, I don’t mind—” The doctor stopped. A thought had just occurred to him. “She is still here, isn’t she?”

“Left about twenty minutes ago. Why?”

It was a rare thing for the doctor to give way to vent profanity, but he used several bad words now.

“What’s the matter? What’s to-do?” said Michael.

“Do you not realise what you’ve done? I’ve not had a chance to remove the influence yet. She still think she’s meant to be turning tricks in exchange for charity sponsorship. Right now, she’s probably knocking at some door, offering to do everyone in the house just for a couple of quid.”

“Oh, hell,” said Michael. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“We’d better get after her,” said Malik.

“Yes, that’s right. We’d really better get after her.”

Neither of them moved. Right at that moment, the wind picked up and they could hear the sleet as it splintered on the window.

“It’s a horrible night out there,” Michael observed, after a while.

“Horrible,” his father agreed.

“It wouldn’t be much fun wandering about in that.”

“Not much fun at all.”

“And it’s probably too late anyway. She’s probably tucked up in some guy’s bed by now.”

“Or even several guys. Special services pay extra, you know.”

“That’s true. We wouldn’t have much chance of finding her again, would we?”

“Not much chance at all.”

“So it would probably be best to forget it.”

“I should think so,” said the doctor. “After all, it’s all for a very good cause.”