The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Dawn Covy, Dawn’s Apartment

“Thanks, keep the change.” I said as I handed the taxi driver a twenty and stepped out into the frosty night air. It was late, well past midnight, but earlier than I’d expected to be coming home from my meeting with the owner of all the strip joints in the city.

“Oh, no, ma’am. It’s taken care of.” the driver held up his hands and waved me off, driving away as I stood there with a crumpled bill and a disheveled suit lightly dusted with someone else’s glitter.

Shaking my head and sighing for the umpteenth time that day I dug out my keys and went to insert them into the lock on my door when I realized the light inside was already illuminated. I was fastidious in keeping my electrical bill down so this was somewhat surprising. Slowly trying the handle and finding the door unlocked I tried my best to stealthily enter the apartment, ready for anything.

Instead of the burglar or the shady g-man in an immaculate suit I was expecting, I was jumped by a flurry of blonde hair and flashing eyes; my reaction didn’t change. Years of living alone in an area with an active night culture had left me more than ready to handle the ninety pounds of employee as I whirled around and drove my hand across the back of her neck, slipped my foot past her instep, and then dropped her to the floor. Her scream reached me as I was finishing the improvised move and I immediately started to apologize.

“Foley! Are you okay? What are you doing in my apartment?” I dropped to the floor beside her and did my best to help her into a sitting position. It seems I had winded her, as she gulped in air greedily and clutched at my shoulders.

“Well knock me up and call me the pastor’s son, Foley, ain’t you never been in a scuffle before?” Parker laughed as she stepped out of the kitchenette and took a swig from the dark bottle she was holding then let out a throaty laugh. “Ms. Covy, you dropped her like a sack of red island potatoes. You been watching kung fu movies lately?”

“No... not exactly.” I said absently, my attention still on making sure my other employee was going to live. I cradled her in my arms and made shushing noises until she got her breathing under control and then leaned back to smile at her. “Feeling better?”

“Uh... yeah.” she said, distracted by something. I followed her gaze down and realized she had a front row seat down my partially unbuttoned shirt and straight into the cleavage that had become visible after my ninja demonstration.

“Foley!” I snapped, shoving her away before taking my feet and stepping hurriedly over her. Pulling my shirt closed and doing up as many buttons as I could I asked, “What the hell are you two doing here?”

Parker gestured to my dining room table and the various drinks and snacks that adorned it, her gesture implicitly glossing over what appeared to be large raw fish. “We thought you’d be wound tighter than a stretched cat’s skin and would want to have a screech with us. It was my idea.”

“We also wanted to know how your date with the stripper queen turned out.” Foley said, running her hand over her butt to soothe the pain of her impact. “So, did you get any skin?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I snapped, then glanced at the goodies on the table and snatched up a chocolate truffle. “It wasn’t a date, you spazz, it was a business meeting, and it went... okay. Mostly okay.”

“She got you a stripper, didn’t she.” Foley speculated with a smirk.

“She got me a stripper.” I deflated and glanced down at the various sequins that still littered my attire. I sat down heavily and picked up the dark bottle Parker had been drinking from and eyed it as if it was flammable; which was an entirely fair assessment based on the fumes emanating from its font. “It was completely pointless for me to go there and I’d have rather spent the evening... Parker why do you have a fish?”

“I was planning on getting you two screeched in right and proper.” the Newfie said with a broad smile, “I’ll gets the shots and you tell us the naked truth and not a word less.”

“I’m not... it’s a fish. Why is this related to shots of...” I started to mumble, still a little buzzed from being at the O2, before Parker’s stern gaze ordered me into my story.

Dawn Covy, the O2

A thundering pulse rippled across the floor, the swell and press of bodies folding in and over themselves against the deafening susurration, an impenetrable mire of undulating limbs. Something primal and unchained eroded caution and ignited passions as it infected every mind in the crowded hall. This was a den of iniquity, a shrine to sin and vice in the classical sense, and to the young people of the city it shone like a lustful diamond amongst pillars of dull and lifeless basalt. Hundreds of people, in all states of deliberate undress, surged and writhed to the unseen strings of discordant puppet masters. To those on the floor the masked DJ of the O2 was a cruel and demanding god; a constant worship of sweat and motion the only appeasement against its relentless beat.

I stood in the entryway in a breathless awe, the caustic waves of hair and skin flashed in actinic bliss as countless strobes broke any sense of continuity. Like a zoetrope of debauchery I found my eyes unable to resolve more than the barest hint of the raw grinding and groping of the senseless mass. I felt a pair of hands on my shoulders as mellifluous laughter reached my ears over the crashing din.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Alania shouted, though I only heard the impression of a whisper-like mist over a rolling sea. Without waiting for my reply she pushed gently on my shoulder and led me through an unobtrusive door and into the VIP suite.

Once the door closed the overwhelming beat condensed into a dull cacophony of vibration and pressure. Once more able to hear, I felt as if someone had pulled my head out of a bucket of water and caught myself sucking in deep breaths. I took in the luscious pillows and opulent couches that lined a pair of shallow pits in the floor, each dominated by a raised dais and a shimmering chrome pole that reached from ceiling to floor.

“Welcome to my domain, Dove.” my host cooed as she shrugged off her fur coat and revealed a little black dress that so perfectly fit her slender frame. “Make yourself at home. I’ll have a thrall bring you something... stiff.”

“Thanks.” I mumbled as I felt strong hands pulling off my own coat and revealing my more formal business attire. As I’d been under the impression this was going to be a more official meeting I was completely off guard looking out the tinted window at the recessed floor below us, the people crashing and convulsing in an endless dance. “This is... quite the place you have here.”

“Isn’t it just?” Alania laughed and ran a hand through her long hair as she put an arm around my waist and escorted me down to one of the pits. “I arranged some... exotic entertainment for us to enjoy while we work. I don’t suppose we will have too much to discuss, but It’ll be nice to have some female company for once. You have no idea how boring Dimitri is.”

“He seemed like he knows his way around the city, though.” I remarked idly as I tried to unobtrusively wriggle out of her grip. She let out a bemused smile as I sat down just out of her arm’s reach and tried to make myself small amongst the plush pillows. “And you and Garret seemed to get along well.”

“Garret isn’t... welcome at my facilities any more.” my hostess said dismissively and then scooted towards me on the couch. She slithered her arm around my shoulder and drew me in close like a python acquiring it’s prey and pressed her supple breast against my shoulder. “Before we start I’d like to show you exactly the sort of services that have made me so powerful in this city. The boys may have their own methods of earning money, my dear Dove, but I know the only real truth there is to society.”

“Waiting in line at the DMV?” I said with a nervous sarcasm. As a creature of good pattern recognition I was pretty confident I knew what was coming next and I have to say it was making me uncomfortable in the extreme. Though I was taller and probably stronger than Alania, her arm around my shoulder felt like a vise locking me into my seat. My breath felt forced into compliance by the rumbling hum of the all-consuming bass outside and I felt my heart and mind begin to race with uncomfortable thoughts.

“Dove, you are simply too precious. Here you are with the powers of a god and you’re as nervous as a girl getting ready for prom! Have you at least experimented with your thralls? Have you have them dance, lust, or prove their devotion?” she leaned in as she spoke, her voice getting softer but her tone getting harder as her lips grazed the nape of my neck, “Have you let them worship you?”

“I’m not interested in having... thralls.” I said with as much conviction as I could muster. Feebly I tried to shove myself away from Alania but found myself unable to escape her gentle embrace, “I just sell coffee and tea.”

“Tsk.” Alania clicked her tongue and leaned back, her thigh touching mine as her arm descended from my neck and allowed me freedom once more. “You have the powers of a demigod, Dove, and the sooner you stop thinking like a human the sooner you can understand that. You have the ability to do what you want, who you want, and no power on this Earth can stop you. No one can stop you, but I can certainly help you.”

“Help me? How?” I asked as innocently as I could, prying my eyes off of her lightly perfumed bust and up her shapely neck to a pair of vibrant lips set in a soft moue. I swallowed hard and tried to keep my humour, “I don’t think people will exactly be lining up to drink tea in a rave.”

“The rave is my recruiting grounds... my hunting grounds more precisely.” she laughed lightly as she stretched like a cat and gestured to a door opposite the one we’d entered, “Before I show you what I can offer you how about I show you what I want first?”

Dawn Covy, Dawns Apartment

“Holy shit. You fucked the stripper queen?” Foley exclaimed, completely agog at her own imagination.

“Foley!” I snapped, “I swear, if you are going to interrupt then this is going to take all night.”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry. This is just such a hot story.” Foley was literally on the edge of her seat, the straw of her effervescent and highly alcoholic beverage hanging loosely at the edge of her mouth as she talked. She reminded me slightly of a chipmunk, her hands up and holding the precious drink while her cowl-hooded sweater reminded me of soft pelt and gentle fur. It may have been the alcohol already in my system, or the fumes from Parker’s hellbrew, but I had nagging urge to pet her right then.

I fought the urge and pretended to be more annoyed than I really felt. “You keep your fantasies to yourself.”

“You said she got you a stripper.” my employee pointed out with a playfully hurt pout on her lightly flushed features. “It is not my fault if I think that is sexy. Think about it. The two most powerful women in the city, alone and interested, when suddenly in walks a stipper with tits that are like... blazow! I think it’s hot.” She set her drink on the table and mimed popping her tits out as she added sound effects.

“I think you’re drunk. And where are you getting this idea of interest? I am not interested in her.”

“Aw, it’s okay, boss. I’m a good girl, my parents taught me to share.”

“I’m not interested in you either!”

“The stripper?”

“No!”

“Even the blazow ones?” Foley countered, another popping of her breasts, the sweater puppies earning their keep as I realized she wasn’t wearing a bra.

“Not even! Shut up!”

“Order me to!”

“No!”

“Then I’m going to keep saying blazow.”

“Alright, I’m ready!” Parker practically bounced over as she slapped down a trio of tumblers and put the bottle of what I was still assuming was kerosene on the table. Beside each glass she placed a note with something scrawled in her surprisingly even and professional script

and slid it all towards us. “I’ll fill your cups and you pucker up.”

“I like where this is going!” Foley giggled as she glanced at the note and furrowed her brow.

“I’m not kissing Foley.” I declared adamantly. “I’ll make you do it if you prefer.”

“Oh! I am also okay with this.” Foley said as she winked at my bemused Newfoundlander.

Parker shook her head and held up the raw and fully intact fish. “No, Amber, you and Ms. Covy are kissing the cod!”

I looked at the cod, then at Parker, then at the mysterious bottle, and then locked eyes again with the piscine offender. “I’d rather kiss Foley.”

“Still an option.”

“Shut up.” I snapped, then turned back to Parker, “What the hell is this?”

“It’s a tradition! I’ve never got to done it before, but I was at Trapper John’s once an’ Alan Doyle got some b’y from away to kiss the cod and I’s always for doing it myself.” Parker explained without clarifying anything, “You kiss the cod, you say the line, and then you tip the Screech and sooner than you can sing you’re a Newfoundlander.”

“I’m game.” Foley chirped, already a little flushed from her drink, and then looked at me with a baleful expression, “Come on, boss. It’s important to her.”

“Oh, come on. It’s a fish. It’s raw! Can I just pretended to do it?” I pleaded, then capitulated as I saw stern look on my Newfie’s face. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with.”

“Right accommodating of you, Ms. Covy! Alright hold up the shot of Screech an’ pucker up.” Parker was practically beaming at us; it was easy to see how much this absurd tradition meant to her, so I choked back sigh and put on my best fish face as Parker brought the fish to my lips.

She only brought it in to a few inches in front of my face and I knew instinctively I was supposed to close the remaining distance myself. Steeling my nerves I planted a sweet little peck on the utterly grotesque lips of the recently deceased and looked deeply into its cold, dead eyes. I quickly withdrew and aggressively wiped my lips with the backs of my hands. “Good cod, that is vile!”

“Nice.” Foley chuckled at my attempt at humour and then licked her lips as the cod approached her. Rather than get it over with, like I had, Foley seemed just drunk enough to make a show of things. She glanced my way, as if to make sure I was watching, then lightly placed the tips of her fingers under the chin of the fish, drawing it in for an embrace. Like a teenager about to have her first kiss Foley hesitated, parted her lips for an instant, drew in a slow breath, then closed her eyes and tilted her head as she straight up frenched the fish.

My eyes went wide as I watched her tongue darted in and out of the piscine mouth, her eyes close, and her mind clearly imagining something else. With tender passion her tongue darted like a frightened flounder, her lips writhed like the tempestuous sea, and after an instant she moaned needfully into the embrace. Watching Foley go at with something that didn’t even have a tongue was strange, but at the same time watching her face and lips as she gave it her all made my heart hit hard for just an instant. After a moment Parker hooted and pumped her free fist in the air, which seemed to break Foley out of her drunken spell and back to reality.

“Oh, my god. I need a drink. That was pretty slimy. Boss, you must have got all kinds of spit on that thing.” Foley mimicked my motion from a moment ago and wiped her lips, then frowned and looked at the fish, “Sorry honey, but it wasn’t meant to be.”

“Great enthusiasm!” Parker guffawed and pointed at the drinks we held absently in our hands. “Take a Screech and answer me back the sheets I gives you.”

“Is ye a Screecher?” Parker asked us in an official tone, her eyes level even as they sparkled with amusement.

With a giggle between us we grabbed the slips of paper and read them in unison with the same mockery of seriousness Parker used. “Deed I is, me old cock, and long may your big jib draw!” Then threw the shot back and did our best not to wince.

Foley and I were both fighting back the drink, the rich and ancient flavours taking control of our senses and filling our bellies with a golden warmth. I managed to compose myself after a few long seconds and tried several times to clear my throat before a spoke, though my voice was still hoarse. “Wow, that is strong. So, am I a Newfoundlander now?”

“’Deed you is, Ms. Covy, ’deed you is.” Parker chuckled, then frowned at the fish that was now resting back on its soggy wrapping on the table. “Want me to cook it up?”

I glanced at the clock and sighed. “No, I don’t think I’m hungry for fish fillet this late at night.”

“Fair enough.” Parker conceeded, then warpped up the scale-y casanova and set it in my fridge. “Well, what happened with the stripper?”

“Oh? Yeah, right! Sorry, I was distracted by he salmon.” I apologized.

“Cod.”

“Shut up, Foley.” I rolled my eyes and then continued recounting my evening with Alania.