The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Michelle ran out of milk in two days. She saw it coming in slow motion. Each day, four times a day now, she would come into Mrs. Wasserman’s office and ask for permission to have more milk. Each time, she mooed for her boss and listened to the young woman’s delighted laugh as her secretary, a woman twice her age, mooed and almost moaned to have more milk. Mrs. Wasserman commented that she thought Michelle was getting quite good at it, and if this kept up, maybe Michelle should be a cow for Halloween. She certainly was getting plump enough for it.

But all the humiliation and degradation didn’t keep Michelle from begging for more milk and, more recently, panicking as the milk supply depleted. Each time she tried to put less in her coffee, tried to limit herself to only one or two cups of coffee a day, but as soon as the effects of it wore off, she went back to mooing for more.

At first, she briefly entertained the notion of asking Mrs. Wasserman for more. Maybe she could find out where her boss got the milk from and get it herself. But she had no idea how Eloise Wasserman would react. Would she make Michelle wear a cowbell? Would she make Michelle get on all fours and moo around the office? Or maybe … maybe she would milk Michelle, make her take off her top and bra, bend over, and give each nipple a tug until they were nice and stiff like udders.

Michelle hadn’t reconciled with her new filthy fantasy life. She didn’t know why thinking of Eloise abusing her or humiliating her turned her on, but ever since she masturbated in the bathroom, her fantasies were all about that. Whenever she didn’t have milk in her system, her mind wandered, and when it wandered, it dreamt up impossible or disturbing scenarios between Michelle and Eloise. Sometimes she even imagined Eloise’s wife, Vicki, catching them and then, instead of being upset with her spouse, taking out her anger on humiliating Michelle.

Michelle had absolutely sworn off touching herself whenever she had these visions. They were wrong. Michelle was happily married to James. Eloise was happily married to Vicki. Eloise wasn’t interested in Michelle. She thought Michelle was old and fat. No. Eloise was a bully and degrading Michelle was her latest form of torture, not some extended foreplay. Besides, Michelle was straight. That was the most important thing to remember. Michelle was definitely straight.

As long as Michelle kept the milk in her system, she didn’t have anything to worry about. No mind wandering. No fantasies. No withdrawal. Milk meant productivity. It meant mooing, but that was a small price to pay to keep her mind her own.

And therefore, running out of milk was a minor crisis bordering on a complete catastrophe. Michelle took a deep breath, made herself coffee without milk, and took it back to her desk. She stared at the black and thin substance, like very thin mud, and lost track of time watching the steam climb from the surface of it. She needed to drink it. That’s all. She needed caffeine, not milk. That was it. Caffeine helped her stay focused, and if she was focused, she wouldn’t need the milk. Her mind wouldn’t wander. She wouldn’t fantasize about Mrs. Wasserman commanding her to strip.

Michelle’s hand shook as she reached for the cup. More than likely, this would be disgusting. Last time, it tasted like dirt. She expected the worst, but she wasn’t drinking for taste. It was all for the caffeine. It was like medicine. Gross, muddy, bitter, acidic medicine.

Michelle used her free hand and pinched her nose, then tried to drink as much coffee as she could in a single gulp. The heat hit her first. She felt it burn her lips, the roof of her mouth, and the back of her throat, but she didn’t stop. It was a small cup. It would be over fast. She just needed to get through it. Hopefully the burnt skin would kill the nerve endings. That’s what she needed. She needed to burn through it and then she wouldn’t —

Oh shit. Not just mud. She felt the grounds of the coffee slipping over and between her teeth, getting stuck in her mouth. One scraped the bottom of her throat as she swallowed, making her cough and almost sputter the coffee up, but she controlled herself. It tasted like dirt mixed with hot vinegar. She smelled urine; even through her pinched nose, she could smell it. She tried to focus and distract herself all at once. She just needed to —

Michelle pulled out the wastebasket next to her desk and spit out the coffee. She coughed and pulled her hair back, afraid she would vomit. She felt the eyes of her coworkers that must be assuming she was vomiting. She sat up and cleaned herself up using tissues. She looked around the office and caught the eyes of other women in cubicles.

“Coffee is nasty today,” she said and did her best fake smile. “You’ve been warned.”

Michelle put her wastebasket away and, as calmly as she could, got out of her seat and went to the bathroom. She promptly threw up two times.

That was it, Michelle would have to go cold turkey. She could do it. She was productive for Mrs. Wasserman before she had the milk. She could go without it. She didn’t need milk or caffeine to make her good at her job. It was mind over matter. That’s all.

The migraine came first. A splitting and sharp pain as though a pair of scissors were trying to climb out her skull through her temples. The computer screen was too bright. The clacking of her keyboard was too loud. Someone told a joke in the back of the office and an absolute bitch cackled like a motherfucking hyena. Every hour, as soon as she finished a task for Mrs. Wasserman, Michelle gave herself permission to go sit in the bathroom with no lights on for five minutes. She put in her headphones but played no music in a weak attempt at quiet. It didn’t stop the pain, but it helped her temper. She needed to get through it. She could get through it.

That night she went straight to her room and closed the door behind her. Eventually, James rolled into their room in his wheelchair to check on her. She told him to order a pizza and leave her alone. She just needed some sleep. That’s all. She’d feel better in the morning.

She woke up with another migraine. She was late for work, sleeping through her alarm. By a miracle of strength, James was able to get to her and shake her to wake up. She needed to get the kids ready, get them breakfast, and get them to school.

Michelle was an absolute terror that morning, snapping at her kids and swearing at every fucking moron on the freeway. The whole time she could only imagine what Mrs. Wasserman was going to say. Perhaps she would stop slightly teasing Michelle and insult her outright. Michelle could see her employer’s face as she told her what a disgusting cow she was, what a failure she was, what a terrible disappointment she was to the company. Michelle wondered if Mrs. Wasserman would take her out in front of the whole office and explain that Michelle was a useless cow. Maybe she would make Michelle moo in front of them, just to show off her useless cow of a secretary.

Michelle slammed on the brakes as her car hit the back of a stopped car on the freeway.

“Shit,” she hissed. Then she turned back to her kids. “Is everyone okay?”

Everyone was fine. The driver she hit was courteous, but Michelle only half listened to the exchange of insurance information. She was thinking about how stupid she was to get in a car accident because she was fantasizing about Eloise insulting her. Then she started fantasizing about Eloise insulting her. She was flustered and late and angry and distracted, but more importantly, she was soaked.

It was almost eleven in the morning when Michelle finally reached work. There was a stack of paper on her desk, two clients waiting to see Mrs. Wasserman, and Bella, another secretary on this floor, was at Michelle’s desk, doing Michelle’s job. She glared at Michelle as she came in.

“You’re late,” she muttered.

“I know. Did you get my texts?”

“Obviously,” said Bella. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Is she mad?”

“You better go see her.”

Michelle looked at the two men waiting. “She isn’t in a meeting?”

“Just between them. You have two minutes.” Bella changed her face to a mask of pleasantness and looked at one of the two gentlemen waiting. “Two more minutes, hun,” she said in a fake Southern accent. That bitch was from Chicago.

Michelle took a deep breath, straightened her clothes, and stepped into Mrs. Wasserman’s office. Her boss was behind her computer at her desk, yelling at someone on the phone.

“Yeah, the problem Jack is that I don’t fucking care.” She looked up at Michelle and waved her in. Michelle noticed her jaw tighten at the sight of her. “Yeah, we’ll take losses, but nobody gets to tell us how we conduct business.” Mrs. Wasserman sighed. “Because it sets a fucking precedent, that’s why. I know you’re close to the grave, but I’m going to run this company in a few years, and I’ll have to live with the fact that when someone threatens us with a minor PR blip, we fucking cave. I won’t have it.”

Michelle stood awkwardly, her hands holding each other in front of her lap, shuffling her weight back and forth. She tried to imagine how Eloise, the youngest person to ever hold her position, could talk to anyone on the phone like that. How could she be so powerful and awful in the same breath? Did you have to be awful to be powerful?

Michelle wondered if Mrs. Wasserman talked to her wife this way? Was she this awful to everyone? Was she like this in the bedroom? Michelle imagined Eloise talking to Vicki like this, demanding she lick her pussy, calling her pathetic, insulting her while she had her way with her.

Michelle’s knees bent as she felt a surge of lust wash through her body. While she waited, her mind wandered, and she thought about Eloise talking to her like that. Maybe that would be her punishment. Would Eloise spread her legs and demand Michelle lick her lesbian cunt? Would she call Michelle a disgusting straight cow getting wet licking lesbian cunts?

“Wake the fuck up,” snapped Mrs. Wasserman.

Michelle blinked twice and looked up and saw her boss glaring at her. “Sorry,” said Michelle. “It’s been a very bad day.”

“No, your day has been inconvenient. My day has been bad, and do you know why?”

“Me,” said Michelle, her eyes going to the floor.

“Look at me when I’m fucking talking to you,” snapped Eloise.

Michelle looked up, stood up straighter, but made sure not to look defiant. She was accepting her punishment.

“If this happens again, you’re fired,” said Mrs. Wasserman. “That simple.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You fucked up. You let Bella cover for you. She’s just as good as you are at that job and five times as nice to look at. I have half a mind to steal her from Roger.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Get your shit together.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And I expect you to stay late tonight.”

Michelle flinched. “How late?”

“You got here three hours late? That seems like a fine amount of time.”

Michelle hesitated. She wouldn’t be home in time to make dinner. She guessed James could order a pizza … again.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good, now send my ten o’clock in, apologize profusely to him, making it clear that it’s your fault.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Michelle stepped out of the office and took a deep breath. She needed to start bringing spare panties to work. She dismissed Bella and sent the gentleman waiting outside in. She told the other one that he would go in next, and she apologized to both of them. She said she overslept and then got in a car accident, but it was all her fault. All of it.

She was playing catch up for the next six hours. She didn’t feel she needed any coffee at this point. Adrenaline fueled her. She knew her job was on the line. The work was overwhelming, and she didn’t have time to let her mind wander. She moved through task after task like a machine, all hoping that tomorrow she would be on time, tomorrow she could reset it, tomorrow it would be like none of this happened. That’s the plan. Get to tomorrow.

After five, most of the building emptied. Some higher up executives would stay. They would get drinks and have late night meetings. Some played poker or got high according to rumors, but it was all business. Each of these were strategic contacts. Eloise regularly left around nine to get a late dinner with Vicki. Apparently, Michelle would be here with her.

Unfortunately, the secretaries like Michelle all left as soon as the clock struck five. The bullpen around her became a ghost town filled only with the sound of her sighs, shuffling paper, and occasional typing. It was much harder to focus now. Michelle was exhausted from the long day, and her body wasn’t adjusting well to the lack of caffeine in her system. The migraine had finally faded, but now she needed to sleep more than anything in the world.

Everything was heavy. The papers she had to file were blurry. She would type a word seven times before she got it right. The air seemed thick. The room was too dark. The silence was too soft. The office was warm. Everything was a warm blanket. In this state, she didn’t worry about work. She didn’t worry about Mrs. Wasserman or losing her job. She didn’t worry about the milk or the new fantasies. She didn’t worry about James or her home life. All she had to worry about was her body and how badly it wanted to sleep. That’s what this all was. She needed sleep.

Eloise calls you into her office. Sweet Eloise with her strong and smooth voice. She just wanted what was best for you. You were so clumsy, so foolish, so stupid. You needed Eloise to get through the day, to focus, to be productive. Eloise is like milk. Her voice is like milk. It makes things clear and obvious. There is no resisting whatever Eloise talks about, whatever she says. There is no hesitation when she speaks. She creates reality, and you bend to it.

Like now, she calls you a cow and your udders swell with milk. If you are lucky and a very good girl, they will be half as good as The Milk. It will be half as sweet as Eloise’s words. She laughs at your udders pushing against the top of your blouse, breaking the bra and stretching the fabric of your top. You look down at the black and white spotted shirt and see milk rings form around the nipple of your udders. You gasp, but it comes out as a moo.

“Such a cute chubby cow,” says Eloise. She is dressed in a white wedding gown, standing over you. She’s impossibly tall, you’re afraid she might crush you by accident.

“Milk my fat cow,” commands Eloise. Her wife, Vicki, with long black hair and mischievous green eyes steps forward, ripping away your ruined top and bra. She pinches your nipples and spurts of milk fly out. Your knees buckle with each squirt. It feels so good. It feels too good.

Vicki holds up a steaming cup of coffee with a free hand, the other one still milking you. You moan but it comes out as a moo. The coffee turns from an inky black to a pale brown. You lick your lips. You’ve missed this. You need this.

She pulls away and you fall to your knees, going down to all four as the good cow that you are. Vicki holds up the warm coffee to your lips.

“You want to drink?” asks Eloise.

You nod weakly.

“Then moo for me.”

You don’t hesitate, mooing loudly, arching your back, thrusting your hips as you moo, and before the sound can die on your lips, Vicki puts it to your mouth, tilts, and warms you with buttery sweetness. You moo, clenching your thighs, your legs quivering as pleasure flows from your throat all over your body, and centers at your pussy.

You moo, and you hear Eloise’s laughter. Vicki joins her, and you delight in their derision. You feel hands on your skirt from behind, pulling it down. You try to turn and see who it is, but Vicki holds your face in place. She kisses you, and you feel your panties peel down with your skirt, both bunched around your knees.

Vicki’s kisses taste like milk. Someone’s fingers slide into your soaked pussy, and you can only describe the pleasure as that of milk. You moo and it sounds like milk. You push against the fingers, your pussy soaked with milk. You cum and the pleasure is milk.

Michelle woke up with the taste of warm milk on her lips and Eloise’s hand pulling her hair.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” snapped Eloise.

“What?” muttered Michelle. She was so tired. Too tired.

“I’m not paying you to sleep.”

Michelle sat up. Her vision was blurry, but she could make out Eloise standing over her, hands on her hips. Michelle wiped away the drool from her chin. “Sorry,” she muttered.

“Oh, you’re sorry? Jesus, you can’t do anything fucking right today, can you?”

Michelle blushed and looked away from Eloise’s harsh glare.

“No, ma’am,” she muttered.

Eloise grabbed Michelle’s chin and yanked it, bringing Michelle’s eyes to her own. “What was that?”

“No, ma’am,” said Michelle, louder. “I can’t do anything right today.”

“Are you trying to lose your job?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Then what the hell has gotten into you?”

“I just,” Michelle looked away from her boss, back to her desk where she left a small puddle of drool. “I overslept today, and I’ve been tired all day.”

“Are you sick? Are you here spreading disease?”

“No, ma’am, it’s just …” Michelle looked down at the floor. She wondered if it was even possible to confess the truth. She felt for sure she would die of embarrassment if she tried to explain where she had been and what had happened.

“For God’s sake, speak up!” Eloise pulled on Michelle’s hair, turning the older woman to face her.

“Mooo,” said Michelle softly, though she thought it would come out as a whimper. Instead, she arched her back slightly and almost turned it into a moan as Eloise pulled on her hair.

Eloise let go of Michelle’s hair in horror, her hand recoiling as though from a viper.

“What the ...” Then, a smile crept over her face. “Oh, God.” She laughed. “Is that it? Does my poor cow need milk?”

Michelle blushed and turned away from her boss. She needed to go. She needed to quit. She needed to get as far away from here as possible. This had gone too far.

“You haven’t come to my office today asking for milk,” said Eloise. All the anger in her voice was replaced with cold amusement. “You haven’t had coffee today.”

Michelle nodded.

“Poor thing,” said Eloise. She lowered herself to look Michelle in the eyes. “You need coffee don’t you?”

Michelle nodded, turning her eyes away from the beautiful dark-haired woman.

“And you can’t stand the coffee without that sweet milk, can you?”

Michelle nodded.

“Look at me.”

Michelle turned to look at her employer. She was cruel and dark and terrible and beautiful all at once. Michelle couldn’t tell what was fantasy and what was real anymore. Her tone, her voice, it was just like her dream. It was just like all the times she touched herself.

“Do you need coffee and milk?” asked Eloise. Her voice was high, as though she was talking to a small child.

Michelle nodded.

“Then moo for me, my chubby cow.”

Michelle blushed and looked away again. Eloise grabbed her chin and turned Michelle’s face to keep looking at her. Her grip was right. Michelle could feel the nails of her boss digging into her chin.

“Look at me when you do it.”

Michelle took a deep breath. For a moment, she was strong. For a moment, she knew that this was wrong. For a moment, she thought about quitting and finding a job elsewhere. For a moment, she thought about telling Eloise to go to hell. For a moment, anything was possible.

The moment passed quickly.

Michelle stared into Eloise’s eyes and mooed. It started off slow and soft, but as she kept gazing into Eloise’s eyes, mooing to her boss for her milk, she felt the heat rush through her body. Her moo turned into a moan, and she bit her bottom lip to keep it from going out of control.

As the sound died on Michelle’s lips, Eloise’s face widened with laughter. She let go of Michelle’s face and stood back up. Michelle looked down and began to cry softly, lust dying to shame as Eloise stood over her, triumphant and roaring with laughter.

“Please,” whimpered Michelle. “I need more but it’s all gone.”

Eloise arched an eyebrow. “Already?” she asked.

“Yes,” whispered Michelle.

“Speak up.”

“Yes,” said Michelle louder.

Eloise shrugged. “That’s all I have.”

“Where did you get it from? I’ll get more.” Michelle looked back up at her boss and stood. “Please. I’ll pay for it.”

“You’re damn right you’ll pay for it.”

Michelle blushed. “Yes, ma’am.”

Silence fell between them. Michelle could see Eloise processing it, sitting on the question. She wanted to speak, but anything she said could throw Eloise into another tantrum. It was better to stand by and wait for her better to speak.

“What do I get out of it?” asked Eloise.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I know the source of some powerful product, which you would do anything, including mooing for me, to get. There is a demand for my knowledge. The question is this: what price are you willing to pay?”

“Well, I’ll be more productive, and —”

“I already pay you to work for me,” interrupted Eloise. “I shouldn’t have to pay you twice.”

“Right,” said Michelle. “Um, well do you want money?”

“I have plenty of money.” Eloise smiled. “What I want is more time with my cute little cow.”

“What?”

“One extra night a week, late into the night, for free. You stay late and do whatever I need you to do.”

“Whatever …?”

“I need you to do. That’s right.”

Michelle didn’t hesitate. “Done.”

“Perfect. Let me get you the address.”

Michelle went straight to the address after work. It led to a manor in the middle of the suburb. There, some middle-aged white guy in glasses and a sweater vest came out and gave Michelle a gallon of milk for fifty dollars. Michelle didn’t even wait for him to turn around before she opened it up and took a long drink of it. It spilled down the side of her face, cool and sweet.

She didn’t feel the effects of it until she got home. There, James had already put the kids to bed. He was on the couch, his legs up, watching something stupid. Michelle ignored him as she went straight to the kitchen and started to brew a cup of coffee. The milk was so much better warm. That’s what she wanted. That’s what she mooed and paid for.

Waiting for the coffee to finish brewing, she felt her whole body relax. It felt like the end of a quick glass of red wine on an empty stomach. She felt her shoulders go back, her stance widen, and she felt … hungry. Suddenly, her injured husband didn’t look like an injured bird that needed to be taken care of. He looked more like a piece of meat, a stud, a hunter, a lumberjack. She licked her lips, staring at his beard and long hair. Yes, she had wasted too much time with Eloise in her dreams. She needed her husband. That’s what she needed to clear her mind, a good and hard fucking.

Unfortunately, James had no interest. When she climbed on his lap, he winced and asked her to move so he could watch the game. He asked her to be careful with his leg. When she started unbuttoning his shirt, he asked what she was doing. He told her he was tired. He told her it hurt. She tried loosening her top, tried to tease him, but he was too distracted.

“Useless,” muttered Michelle as she stormed out of the room. He was fucking useless. She finished her cup of coffee and drank it as soon as it was cool enough to not burn her mouth. She made another and carried it into her bedroom like a glass of wine and locked the door. She grabbed her vibrator from the bedside table and quickly stripped down to her bathrobe, wearing nothing else underneath. She wanted to be able to touch everything. Her whole body felt like it was on fire and every touch was water, hissing and steaming over her skin.

She drank her coffee and got comfortable, sliding out of her robe under the covers. The vibrator teased her lips, and she gasped. She gave a small smile, imagining mooing again. She thought of Eloise, and the sound of her laughter when Michelle mooed for her. She knew it was supposed to hurt, but some twisted part of Michelle longed for it. It felt good to have Eloise’s attention, even her cruel attention, when James and everyone else treated her like she was nothing.

And as her body rolled with pleasure. As her back arched and stomach rolled. As the vibrator went deep inside her and her hips ground against it. As she pinched her nipples and ran her nails over her skin. As she bit her lips and tried not to wake up her family. As she got the release her body was begging for. As she tried to count how many panties she would need to get through tomorrow at work. As she pleasured her body and thought of work.

She imagined Mrs. Wasserman watching her in the front of her bedroom, leaning over the bed, amused and laughing. She imagined her dark hair and pale skin. She imagined her expensive clothes and stylish shoes. She imagined her stockings barely covering what must be perfect skin. She imagined all that power bending Michelle to her will, giving her the drug she needed. She imagined a life completely dependent on this young and cruel bitch, and she came.

She came again and again and each time was for Eloise Wasserman.