The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Hello? Oh, yes, good morning Mr. Phelps. We’ve been expecting you. Please come in. Let me take your coat. Yes, it is cool this morning. There, I’ll just hang that over here.

Please, come on in. Make yourself at home. Let me show you to the livingroom. I love your suit. It’s so trim and powerful-looking.

What’s that? You didn’t know Darren had a maid? Well, I’m not really—oh, I know, the uniform and everything. Well, I suppose I am, sort of—that is... I help out around the house. I’m Tammy, Crystal’s sister. A pleasure to meet you too. You have very strong hands, Mr. Phelps.

Please, have a seat. Let me adjust those pillows for you. There you go. No, I’m sorry, Darren and Crystal have gone out for a while. I know he’s expecting you though, so they should be back soon.

Well, as far as I know he’s making a few sales calls. Yes, that’s right, Salesman of the Year, he never stops. Oh, no, he likes to take Crystal with him these days. Sort of an assistant, you know? She carries his briefcase, opens doors for him, that sort of thing. Seems to be a big hit with the clients.

No, I... I don’t think she... minds.... at all. I’m, I’m uh, sure she’s she’s h-happy to be... helping... her husband. But where are my manners. Can I get you a drink? Something to eat? Oh, we have everything you can imagine; Darren insists on keeping a well-stocked bar. I do all the shopping so I know exactly what we have.

Just a beer? Sure thing. Domestic or imported? Of course we have that brand. You just wait here, I’ll be right back.

There you go. I hope it’s cold enough for you. Now don’t spill any on that classy silk tie, ‘K?

Thank you, you’re very kind. But actually, I’d prefer to stand. I’m not allowed... I mean, I shouldn’t be sitting when we have a guest. No no, don’t concern yourself. The shoes don’t bother me at all. You get used to them. I wear heels like this all the time; except at the gym, of course. Besides, sitting down in this dress.... well, I’ll stand, thanks.

From the east coast, originally. Yes, that’s right. Big city girl. I was... I mean I am.... a stockbroker. I’m pretty good at it too. I was with Merredith, Wilson and Jenkins for a while. Yes, I know, good firm, I was very lucky. I’m still in the business; I handle all Darren’s investments for him. Oh, go on, I am not too pretty to be a stockbroker. Well, thank you, you smooth-talker. This dress doesn’t hide much, does it?

Why did I decide to do what? Oh, you mean... stay here and... help out around the house? No, I don’t charge Darren anything... he’s well, family, you know? Besides, he let’s me live here and everything. I get a bit of an allowance. I still have my condo back east. It’s in such a good neighbourhood I found I could rent it out for more than the mortgage payments, so I get a tidy profit—er, I mean, Darren gets—oh, you know what I mean.

Upset? Of course I’m not upset. Don’t be silly. Here, let me get you another beer. You’re sure you don’t want something to eat? I did some baking just this morning. That’s the spirit. Here, let me take your glass. I’ll be right back, handsome.

There you go. Help yourself to the pastries. There’s lots more.

No, no thank you. I’m not allowed... er, I mean Darren prefers if I don’t drink during the day. I have to stay in top form, you know? Hey, I didn’t mean that kind of form, silly.

About...oh going on six months. I came out here originally to check up on my kid sister. I was worried about her, to tell you the truth. At that time I... well, I didn’t like Darren very much. I only met him for the first time at the wedding, and he struck me then as really cr—, cru—, cru—, uh, unsophisticated. And no offense, but I wasn’t too thrilled about my sister marrying a travelling insurance salesman. Yes, I know, it’s an honourable profession, I don’t mean to offend one of your employees. Oh, don’t worry about the crumbs, I’ll lick—I mean I’ll clean the floor later.

Anyway, Darren just didn’t seem like he had much class, if you know what I mean. He got drunk at the wedding reception and made a pass at me! No, you little sweet-talker, I wasn’t dressed like this. I was a few pounds heavier too. Let me tell you, I was incensed. I mean, here was my own sister, my only family really, since my parents passed away, getting married to a complete jer—, je—, I mean I didn’t like him very much.

Well, time passed and Darren turned out to be every inch the husband I thought he would be. He was mean to Crystal, he drank like a fish, he flirted with everything in a skirt, he was a complete slob around the house—oh, well, thank you, I do my best to keep it tidy; you never know when a good-looking fellow like you is going to drop by.

Where was I? Oh yes, Darren. Well, the long and short of it is Darren turned out to be a regular a—, an as—, I mean a complete as.... I’m sorry, there are some words I just can’t say. The point is, Darren wasn’t the ideal husband.

To make matters worse, he wasn’t a particularly good insurance salesman either. I think he just got into it so he could try to smooth-talk all the housewives. Oh, he has a tongue on him all right. Did you know he was once arrested for fraud? Long time ago, no conviction, but still it just shows... No, you’re right of course, Mr. Phelps. It’s not important at all. What does it matter, he’s your top salesman now. But he wasn’t Salesman of the Year back then, let me tell you. In fact he barely made his monthly quotas.

Really? Was it that bad? No, I never realized he came so close to being fired. That explains a lot.

You see, one night Crystal called me, terribly upset, and started babbling on about how awful Darren was behaving toward her and how miserable she was and everything. She was in tears, poor thing. To tell you the truth though, I had a little trouble feeling sorry for her. I mean, she was the one that married the guy, right? My sister has always had a bit of a self-esteem problem. Maybe it’s because her older sis was always such an over-achiever. I was making my way up the ladder at Merredith, and a girl’s got to be tough if she’s going to make it there. Still, she’s my sister, and we’ve always been close.

But the real reason for Crystal’s call, and the thing that truly worried me, was Darren had gone and done something incredibly stu—, stu—, uhm, ill-advised. He had paid a preposterous amount of money to buy into some sort of change-your-life scheme he saw advertised in a men’s magazine. Can you believe that?

Well, yes, it was one of those there, as a matter of fact. I can’t recall which one. Bother me? Why should it b-bother me to have a few glossy magazines around the house?

Actually, I, uh, I buy them for Darren. No, really. He’s much too busy to keep up on all the different kinds so I pick up a few issues when I go shopping each week. Darren prefers that I go to a different shop each time, so all the clerks can get to know me.

Oh yes, in my uniform. Or... something even more... revealing. Darren is fond of latex. Sometimes.... sometimes he orders... er, suggests that I flip through a couple of mags in the store, then ask a customer or the salesclerk to... to... uhm, compare me... against, you know... one of the photo spreads. In detail. You, you can’t imagine how embarrassing that is. It gets me so—

Well, enough about that. No, really, I’m f-fine. Just, uh, excitable I suppose.

Can I get you another beer? Sure, why not, it’s Friday. Here, I’ll refill the plate too. Oh, thank you, I’m glad you like them. I never tried baking until recently. You have quite the appetite, don’t you big boy? Will you gobble up anything tempting I put in front of you? Oh, you’re just saying that.

No, please go right ahead. You can thumb through them while you wait. I’ve read them all anyway. Darren insists. Excuse me a minute, I’ll be right back.

There, a fresh cold one. Some more pastries too. Of course you can nibble on—no, not those! (giggle) It’s a little hard to bend over in this dress.

The ad? Oh, yes, I forgot. It was one of those little ads you see in the back pages, you know that sell pheromones and magic glasses and stuff to attract women. Yes, you’ve seen them. This one offered some sort of “confident speaking” program that would make anyone an irresistible orator. Sounded like a complete con to me. But Crystal told me that Darren had gone and ordered the program! It was horrendously expensive. He used up all their savings and even put a second mortgage on the house.

A package arrived in the mail a few weeks later, and Crystal said that Darren started spending all his free time in the basement, practising this so-called “training” program. Every now and again he would look at Crystal and in this funny voice he would say something like “Raise your arm!” or “Bend over!” When Crystal asked him why, he flew into a rage and started giving her no end of abuse.

My sister was very worried. I decided to take a few vacation days and come out to see her.

Well, Darren wasn’t too thrilled when I showed up on his doorstep. I think he was still smarting about the slap I gave him at the wedding. But two days later he tried to hit me up for a loan! Can you believe that? I am—I mean I was—pretty well off, naturally, but I sure wasn’t about to lend any of it to him, even if he was married to my sister. Not so he could blow it all on nonsense from the back of a skin mag. We got into a heated argument that ended when Darren stomped off into the basement again. I could hear him talking to himself down there for hours. Crystal says they had a big fight that night.

Pacing? Was I pacing? Oh, sorry. Please, help yourself to the cookies. Oh, don’t worry about the coffee table, put your feet up. Get comfortable. Yes, of course I’ll tell you the rest.

The very next day, Darren came up to me with this funny look on his face, like he was concentrating real hard. “Stand up,” he said. His voice was different, not his real voice but a kind of stage voice, like he was pretending to be a baritone.

I stood up and said, “What do you want now?”

Darren was still giving me that look. “Lift your left arm,” was all he said.

I stretched, lifting one arm over my head. “Why, what’s going on?”

Darren raised an eyebrow, but he still looked wary. “OK, now, stand on one leg and hop up and down.”

I felt pretty silly, hopping up and down on one leg with my arm in the air, so I was relieved when he told me to stop. “Are you just about through?” I said, giving him my best scowl, “I’m trying to read the paper.”

Darren’s expression had changed to one of pure astonishment, like he had found a thousand-pound note in his pants pocket. “Well I’ll be,” he said, almost to himself, “it does work.” Then he gave me that phoney voice again: “Now open up your blouse and show me those little titties!”

You can imagine my reaction. You can’t? Well, I just lit right into him for being such a cree... cree... uhm, insensitive person. I really gave him a piece of my mind. What a thing to say! Then I looked down and saw that I had unbuttoned my blouse. I was amazed! I started blubbering, wondering what was going on, but my hands never stopped. I pulled my bra up over my titties so he could see them better. I was mortified—but I just couldn’t stop.

“Well, well, well,” Darren said, in his ordinary voice. “Little miss tight-ass has a nice pair after all. Who would have thunk it. Kinda small, though, aren’t they? Not much there for a man to get his hands on, is there?”

“Wha... how can... why?” I stammered, holding my blouse open. “What’s going on?”

Darren started talking in that voice again. “Well,” he snarled, “answer me! You have little titties, don’t you?”

I don’t know what came over me. I had never thought about the size of my brea—titties before, but now I felt so ashamed. They were so small! I felt myself burning with shame. “Yes,” I said, softly, “I am small.”

“What is small?” Darren persisted.

“My, my...breasts.... are... small.”

“Your what?”

“Titties! My titties are too small.” I felt like crying. I was so inadequate! I just stood there like an idiot, hanging my head.

Oh, thank you, aren’t you sweet. This dress is sort of designed to make the most of what nature gave me. (giggle)

OK, I’m a long way from flat, but Darren prefers his women a lot fuller. We’re going to do something about that, real soon. Here, let me show you what I mean. Where is that one; ah, here we are. Take a look at her, Miss April. That’s the kind of figure Darren prefers. Hmmm, I see you do to, tiger. After my enhancement I’ll be at least as big as her, maybe bigger. I can hardly wait.

You want to hear more? OK. Right at that moment Crystal came into the room. The first thing she saw was her older sister, standing in front of her husband with her blouse undone and her bra pulled up, showing off her titties for all the world. Maybe she saw that my nipples were standing out too.

Crystal froze, shocked. For a moment I thought she was going to scream. “What—what are you doing?” she cried.

I couldn’t think of anything to say. “Come on, Tammy-girl,” Darren said. He was smirking now. “Tell your sister what you’re doing.”

I grew even redder. “I’m, I’m showing Darren my titties,” I said in a tiny voice.

Crystal exploded. “You bitch! What the hell do you think you’re doing! Get out of here right now! How could you do this to me, your own—”

“Crystal, shut up,” Darren said in his new voice. Crystal looked at him, astonishment in her eyes.

“Go back in the kitchen and make dinner quietly. This is between me and your rich-bitch sister.”

Crystal’s eyes grew round as saucers, but she retreated to the kitchen and didn’t come back. “Now listen, babe,” Darren said to me. “Go up to your room and write me a check big enough to get me out of this damned second mortgage. Make sure it will clear. And cover up those little titties, they look pathetic.” He strode away, leaving me standing there half undressed.

Well, I still didn’t know what was going on. I went back to the guest bedroom and I wrote out a big check payable to Darren. It took a sizable chunk out of my savings, believe me. I was scared, and confused, and miserable.

But the best—I mean the worst—thing about it was, I was horny! I mean really horny. I was so hot I could hardly think straight. I sprawled across the bed, pulled down my pants and played with myself until I came, and I mean—wow! Three times. I’m not even sure I remembered to close the door.

“Whoo. Excuse me. This always makes me warm. I’m so... excitable these days.

How are you doing on the beer? Another? Sure thing, coming right up. Hey go ahead, make yourself at home. Here, let me help you with that tie. Mmmmm, you smell nice, Mr. Phelps. Uh-oh, I’m distracting you again, aren’t I honey? (giggle) This uniform is rather.... flattering, isn’t it. Hey, you slip out of that jacket and I’ll fetch you another beer, ‘K?”

There you go. You sure do enjoy a good beer, don’t you. Say, long as were getting comfortable, why don’t you slip your shoes off. No, it’s OK, I’ll get them. There we go. Now have a cookie... that’s a good boy.

You know, you have cute toes, Mr. Phelps. Tell you what, if you don’t mind me sitting here on the coffee table, I’ll give you a little foot massage. Isn’t that nice? Yes, you see what I mean about this dress? Now try not to stare too much.

What happened next? Well, the peculiar thing is for a while we all tried to pretend like nothing had happened. I calmed down, eventually, and we sat down to dinner. Crystal was still furious at me of course, but Darren just sat there smirking.

Then when dinner was over, Darren turned to Crystal and said, “Honey, go do the dishes. Me ‘n’ your stuck-up sister are going to go upstairs and fuck.”

I was shocked all over again. Crystal looked daggers at me, as if I was somehow to blame, but she got up from the table without a word. Before I could say anything, Darren said, “Well, you stupid bitch. You heard me. Why are you still sitting there? Get your uptight ass upstairs and into my bed. Get out of those clothes too.”

Trembling, I got up to go. I was already wet. Darren shouted, “Stop!” and I froze in place.

“Undress here. In the kitchen. I want Crystal to see what a bit of sleaze her sister is.”

I wanted to scream I was so angry. But instead I began removing all my clothes, as quickly as I could. Crystal just looked at me murderously the whole time. When I was completely nude I was shaking like a leaf—and so aroused I was almost dripping. “Not bad,” Darren said coolly, looking me over. “Not bad at all. ‘Cept for the little titties, of course. Crystal, baby, take your sister’s clothes and throw them in the trash. She won’t be needing them any more. Little-tits, run upstairs and get ready to be fucked good.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I was so hot I literally ran up the stairs. I had never been so humiliated in all my life—nor so turned on. When Darren came up I was spread-eagled on my back, doing myself with both hands. I couldn’t seem to stop. He just laughed arrogantly, tearing his clothes off.

So, while his dutiful wife, my sister, did the dishes and threw away my expensive clothes, I screwed Darren like I’d never screwed anyone before. I hated him intensely. I was furious and helpless. The more I thought about how much he disgusted me, the hotter I became. I kept coming and coming, again and again. By the time Darren finally ejaculated, deep inside me, I had completely forgotten I was unprotected and wouldn’t have cared.

Darren threw me out of bed as soon as he was finished. Laughing, he ordered me to go downstairs and send Crystal up for her screwing. I thought I was going to die. But I couldn’t stop myself from stumbling downstairs, nude and wet and sweaty and fucked. I walked into the kitchen, where Crystal was still doing dishes and said, “Crystal, Darren says it’s your turn to go up and get fucked now.”

She walked past me without a word, boiling with anger. Yet just a few minutes later I heard her screaming, “Yes Darren, yes, fuck me hard!” I started to get worked up all over again.

My, it’s... warm in here. Do you mind if I have a little sip of your beer. I’m, uh, getting a little dry. Thanks. What’s that? Why didn’t I leave?

Well, I did! At least, I tried. Darren made me sleep on the sofa that night; no, not that one, I bought him a new one a month ago. The next morning I got up early, got dressed, packed my bags and left. I couldn’t think of anything but getting out of that house. I was fumbling with the door with my two bags when I heard a voice behind me. “Hold it right there,” Darren shouted, using his Voice. I froze so quickly I dropped my luggage.

Darren came down the stairs, wearing a bathrobe. “Just where do you think your going, bitch,” he snarled at me.

“I, I’m going home,” I said with as much determination as I could muster. “I going a long way from you and this entire household.”

He faced me. “Fuck but you have an attitude, little-tits. You aren’t going anywhere yet. We have lots of things to discuss. But first, I think you’d better give me my morning blow job. Make it good.”

I couldn’t help myself. I just dropped to my knees in my designer skirt and gave him head right there in the foyer. I think I was crying, yet at the same time his wang felt delicious. By the time he shot his load down my throat I was as ready to hump as a dog in heat. “Get those clothes off and make us breakfast, bitch,” Darren said, walking away. “Bring it to us upstairs.”

I did what I was told. Ever since then I have done what I am told. Darren made me go without clothing for the next week or so, except for heels when he was in the mood. He took me whenever he felt like it, and every way you can imagine. I tried to resist, really. I never failed to come like a sonic boom.

When my vacation days ran out Darren told me to call my office and tell them I was taking some sick time. I tried to explain it to my boss on the phone, but I was kneeling on the sofa while Darren screwed me from behind so I don’t think I made much sense. They fired me the other day. No, it’s OK, stud, I, I d-didn’t like that job anyway. Not any more.

So, we used the rest of my money to clear up Darren’s financial problems, and of course with the Voice he started selling insurance like nobody’s business. Salesman of the Year in just six months. Not bad, huh?

Most days he makes me stay home and clean house, while he drives off in my new beamer to sell insurance. Crystal goes with him and plays the obedient wifey. We’ve pretty much patched up our differences. Crystal can’t help it any more than I can, and besides, Darren let’s us, I mean makes us, do each other sometimes. He likes to watch.

Sure, the uniform was Darren’s idea. I wear a different one each day, just for variety. He likes to send me out shopping in the most embarrassing outfits he can think of. Like one day he made me do the grocery shopping dressed like a grade-school hussy. If it’s raining I have to wear my sheerest blouse and keep my umbrella rolled up, and if it’s windy, well then I wear my shortest, widest miniskirt. I’m not allowed to wear underwear in public, of course.

Darren loves to think of new ways to make me humiliate myself. Just last week he had me go out in a bikini top and my skimpiest shorts to buy a case of beer, then start tossing them back on the street until I got arrested. By the time the cop got there I was so looped I could barely balance on my high-highs. I had drawn quite a crowd too. I nearly came in the back of the police cruiser.

Oh, do you like my hair? No, I’m not really blonde. But Darren likes it dyed. Nice and brassy. Oh, wouldn’t you like to know. Well, as a matter of fact I don’t have any hair down there, so there. (giggle)

But I do have a tattoo. Wanna see it? Here, let me slip in beside you, handsome. See what I mean about this dress? You like fishnets too, huh? Oh I don’t mind any more if the garters show. This is nothing compared with what I wear when I go walking. You know, around construction sites and schools. Anywhere I can show off. God that’s humiliating. It makes me so hot.

Oh, Mr. Phelps, you have such warm hands. Don’t worry about Darren. He’s probably screwing somebody’s wife on their kitchen table while Crystal watches. She’ll buy a load of your insurance when he’s finished too, even if it is crap.

Oh, come on, sugar, don’t look so offended. I’m a financial wiz, remember? I know useless insurance when I see it. No wonder Darren couldn’t sell that stuff. Course that’s all changed now. Hey, go ahead, put your hand back...oh, yes, that’s better.

Hmmm, you have nice ears. Very kissable. (smack) (giggle). You know, honey, you could make a heckofalot more money selling the Voice program than you’ll ever get from second-rate insurance. Think about it. Look how much Darren paid, and he says the inventor hadn’t begun to refine the technique. Darren’s Voice is much more powerful. You could make a fortune! Not to mention fucking all your customers’ wives.... and their daughters.... you like that idea, hmmmm?

“Oh, yes, the tattoo. It’s down here. It’s not very big so you have to look closely. Right down here. Closer, come on. Here, let me undo this zipper. There, can you see it? Right there beside the rose. Oh, your breath is making my nipples stand up! Can you read what it says, honey? That’s right, “Lick My Little Titties”.

Oh, Mr. Phelps! You are a fast learner, aren’t you. Mmmmm, no, don’t stop. Darren says that’s what the tattoo is for. It worked on the, oh! nice, cop who arrested me for public indecency last time. Course we’ll have to change it after my surgery, won’t we.

Oh, my word, Mr. Phelps, what’s that? Have I gone and made you all uncomfortable? What kind of a maid would I be if I left you in that condition? God, you have a talented mouth.

No, it’s OK, Darren told me to be nice to you while he’s gone. He’s making his first sale of the new Voice program right now. He has Crystal with him as a demonstration; I helped dress her in one of my outfits this morning.

I shined Darren’s shoes for him too, like always. He makes me use my tongue, of course. I have to kneel at his feet. Oh god, it’s utterly degrading. Makes me so horny. Then Darren goes to work without fucking me, and I spend the day ready to screw a baseball bat.

That’s why I’m so glad you’re here Mr. Phelps. Let me make you more comfortable. Darren figured I could convince you to start selling the Voice program if I just showed you what it could do.

I’ll just slide down here, between your legs. No, you finish your beer, I’ll get the zipper. Mmmm, very nice Mr. Phelps. Whoa, what a whopper. I’ve been talking too much anyway. You just relax and think about what you’re going to do with all the money you’re going to make from the Voice, and I’ll just mmmmm (lick, lick) ...I’ll just....(smack, slurp)....oh god I want you... mmmmmmmmmmmmm......