The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The bar, smoky and loud, played around me like some cheap movie. Young men and women, most of them vaguely unappealing, flirted, danced, and got as drunk as possible. The liquor was bad and watered, which is why I had not participated in that aspect of the night’s festivities. Nursing a rocky scotch on a bar stool, I scoped the crowd, looking for... well, anything better than what the night had offered so far.

Most of the women who frequented this particular bar either had something appealing pierced, or had nothing appealing at all. Plus, they were all far too willfully aggressive. Call me old fashioned, call me politically incorrect, but I believe men and women have some fundamental differences, and one is that men should be the dominant member of the pair. Genetically, they’re just better suited for the task. I don’t think men should necessarily be violent towards women (unless the woman threatens certain bodily parts), but they should be in command of their relationships.

Of course, this attitude, which I am not shy about sharing, does not—win me my share of dates. My busy life as a contract lawyer did not help out either. Which, of course, led me to this rather unfortunate state; scoping out prospects in a not-so-nice bar.

As I reached behind me for my drink, I saw a crowd of men at one end of the bar. My curiosity piqued (or my boredom finally urging me into some activity) I sidled down that way. As a got closer, I saw what, or who, held their attention so rapt. She was dressed in a red leather mini-skirt, with a black halter top, and a pair of calf length boots. Her auburn red hair, lit unflatteringly by the bar’s inadequate light, was tied up above her head in a tight bun. Her figure was flawless. Her breasts, not too big or small, were tucked neatly behind the halter, and her waist flared out ever so slightly at her hips, making her curvy without being pear-shaped. The sour men around her were not-so-subtly trying to catch her attention, but none were conversing with her, and she was staring straight ahead.

I moved into the crowd of men and said, “Excuse me.”

Her head turned only enough to catch me in the corner of her eye. “My job as designated bar dancer is to take the prettiest woman in here for at least one dance per night. I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to comply with our house rules.”

Hey, what can I say? Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. In this case, her head came fully around, and a smile followed it. “Well,” she replied, “I wouldn’t want to break a rule.” She offered me her hand. “Shall we?”

I returned her smile as I bent and kissed her hand. She giggled demurely, slipped off of her stool, and followed me out onto the floor. We were both pierced from behind by the angry stares of four partnerless men.

As we were both white people, we did our best at imitating modern rock dancing. In all fairness, she was better than me. Her feet and hips slipped and swirled around the dance floor, as I did my best to pursue and not look too much a fool. As she ground her hips close to mine to the beat of some anonymous techno tune, I called over the music, “My name is Jonathan.”

“Diane,” she called back. “Diane, how do you feel about men and women?” I asked. The techno stopped and a slower song came on. She put her arms around me, and I placed mine chastely on her waist.

“Well,” she answered, “it takes two to tango, but someone always has to lead.”

This answer excited me more than the last Die Hard movie. “Really?” I replied. I slipped my left hand up her right arm, and took her hand in mine. It looked a little old fashioned, surrounded by people dirty dancing, to be in a classically waltzing position. However, she did not attempt to move either of my hands, and I started to lead her around the floor. “Should people ever switch leads?” I asked.

Diane shook her head. “Once you’re in the right position, why change?” she said. “It just... wouldn’t be right, would it? Changing directions in the middle of dance?”

“No, it wouldn’t. You’re very attractive, Diane.”

“Thank you. You aren’t so bad yourself, though I might suggest getting a new line.”

“It worked on you, didn’t it?”

“I’m not the average case.”

“That I will definitely agree with.” I leaned my head closer to her as the song came to a close. She did not pull away.

Our kiss lasted through the beginning of the next tune, more thumping techno. Finally we broke contact. “Take me home, Jon.”

This was sudden. “You want me to take you to your home?” I asked lamely. This was all going faster than expected.

“No, yours.” She pressed herself up against me. “You’ll never meet anyone like me, Jon.”

I kissed her briefly again, then lead her off the dance floor and outside to my car. “Do you have a car here?” I asked. She shook her head. “Taxi,” she explained. I opened the car door for her, then swung around the other side, and we were away.

We made idle chit-chat as we drove to my house, which wasn’t far. I discovered that she worked as an administrative assistant, but not where, and when I tried to dig a little further she deflected the conversation into other areas. By the time we reached my house, I didn’t know much more than her first name.

I lived in a small condo by myself, and the complex was quiet as I let myself in. As soon as I closed the door, Diane’s mouth was on mine. Her tongue spread my lips apart, swirling into my mouth. Her hands grabbed my ass and pulled me into her. Her leg slid up and down mine as I regained my senses and began to slide my hands over her back and ass. We stood in the entryway for a full five minutes, groping and kissing, before I finally drew my hands back and started to take off my jacket. Diane broke our kiss, and said, “Show me your bedroom” in a breathless voice. “Upstairs,” I replied. She offered me her hand, and I practically yanked her arm out as we ran upstairs.

I had not been expecting this kind of luck, so my bed was frumpled and there were clothes on the floor, but Diane took no notice. When we crossed the threshold, Diane resumed her ravenous kissing. Her hands slipped from on my ass to caressing my rather sizable erection through my jeans. “Your cock, Jon,” she said, in between kisses, “I want it. I want your cock inside me. Fuck me with your cock Jon.”

Her aggression had gone about far enough for me. I placed my hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her away. “I need to see what I fuck first,” I said. “Take off your clothes.”

Diane only smiled at my challenge. She reached behind herself slowly, and ever so seductively slipped her halter top over her head. Her breasts were as perfect uncovered as they had seemed hidden away. She unzipped the side of her skirt, and let it fall to the ground. She was not wearing any panties. Her bush was neatly trimmed, just a thatch above her labia. Her pussy lips were bare, and I swore they glistened in the pale moonlight. “Do I look OK to fuck?” she asked with a half smile.

“More than OK,” I replied. I pulled her close and we kissed again. After a moment, I said, “Why don’t you put those lips to better use?”

Diane gave me a wry smile, and knelt before me. As she undid the last button of my jeans, my cock sprang forth through the folds of my boxers. It stood rigidly at attention, in front of her face, throbbing with every heartbeat. Diane’s eyes widened slightly, then she gently gripped the base with her hand. Up and down the underside went her tongue. Slowly, she licked at the head, and then pressed her tongue flat down the underside, driving me crazy. “Ohhhh... that feels great, Diane,” I said as I took off my shirt.

Diane slipped her mouth all the way over my dick, sucking me in and out slowly for a couple of minutes. As she did, her tongue swirled all sorts of places around my dick, driving me nuts. “Feels great, Diane,” I repeated, letting the sensations take me over.

Suddenly, she stopped and stood up. “Don’t treat me like a lady, Jon,” she said. “Talk dirty to me. Don’t call me Diane.” She put her face an inch from mine. “Call me a bitch.” She kissed me. “Call me a whore, a slut. Treat me like a bitch in heat. Don’t make love to me. Fuck me. Use me.” She grasped my dick. “Take this hard cock and plunge it in and out of my wet cunt. I want it. I need it.”

My mind was whirling. I didn’t know whether to kiss her, fuck her, or push her away. Her stroking of my super-hard cock convinced me. I stumbled backward, ran into my night stand, slid open the door and began fumbling inside.

Diane came up to me, and took my hand out of the drawer. “No, no condom, please, just fuck me. Please...” She knelt down and began slipping that wonderful mouth of hers up and down my dick.

How could I say no? This was a fuck worth dying for. “Yeah, OK baby, whatever you say...”

“No, whatever you say... say it dirty...” She continued slurping.

“MMmmm, that feels so good, bitch. Suck it, suck my big dick, eat my big dick like a whore, cocksucking whore.”

“Love your cock, love your cock you big stud, tastes so good.”

Diane’s attentions were bringing me close, very close, to splashing her pretty face. But I had other plans before my orgasm. “That’s enough cocksucking, slut. Stand up.” She didn’t, and instead picked up the pace of her mouth working over my cock.

I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her up. “I said STAND UP, bitch.”

“Oh yeah, take me, you stud, take me. My cunt’s so wet.” I pushed her back over the bed. “Fuck me. Fuck me now! Fuck my slutty cunt!”

I obliged her. Her pussy was slick as oil, and hot as fire. “OH FUCK ME YES! MY CUNT! FUCK! SO BIG! FUCK IT FUCK ME!”

“You like that whore? Like my cock up your slick little pussy?”

“Love it... love... your COCK UP MY CUNT! FUCK YOUR WHORE! FUCK HER! FUCK YOUR SLUTTY WHORE!”

My hips thrust in and out of her, faster and faster. Diane thrashed beneath me. I felt the pit of my stomach begin to tense. “Gonna... come...” I gasped.

“N.. n... no! Not in my pussy! Come on face, stud, come all over your pretty whore’s face!”

“You want it... on your face?”

“Make me take it on my face, stud, make me...”

It was difficult to stop thrusting, but somehow I managed to control myself. Shuffling my way up her body, I positioned myself above her upturned face. With my left hand I grabbed her hair and held her head, and with the other I stroked my cock right above her nose. “Take it, bitch, take my come on your face, take it all over your face.”

“Yes, come, come baby, come on my face...”

The first blast from my cock took her right across the bridge of her nose, painting a white stripe from cheek to cheek. The second slapped perpendicular to that one, leaving a ropy vein of jism from the top of her cheek to her upper lip. Then the splatter came, peppering her forehead, bangs, and eyebrows with drops of sperm.

After my cock calmed down and my hips and body stopped thrashing, Diane slipped her tongue out of her mouth and licked at the come on her face. As soon as the tip of her tongue touched a drop, her eyes glazed over and her body shook. Then her hands come up, and she lovingly pushed every bit of come into her hungry mouth. She carefully licked her fingers clean. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“You’re welcome, slut,” I replied.

She half-smiled, half-sneered at me. “Why don’t I clean myself up and get you a glass of water?”

“That’d be nice,” I said. I rolled over onto the bed as Diane arose and walked into my bathroom. As she walked away, I got my first look at her ass. Besides it’s obvious beauty, she also had a tattoo. It was squarely in the middle of her left cheek. Bright red, it looked like a spider, but it was upside-down. I had only a brief glimpse of it before Diane left the room. I listened as she ran the water for a moment. She came back into the room, her face washed, and carrying a glass of water. I accepted it gladly and drank. I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was.

“Come into bed,” I said.

“Mmmm... thanks, but no thanks.”

“Huh? Would you like me to take you home?”

“In your condition, I think driving would be a bad idea.”

“Condition?” It was then that I started to feel it. My version started to blur, and I felt thick-headed. I tried to put the glass down, but all I succeeded in doing was dropping it on the floor. I tried getting up, but my limbs seemed to have taken on lives of their on. Nothing was coordinated. “What... what... drink...”

“I’d say see you later, but I don’t think we will see each other. Goodnight Jonathan.”

The last thing I thought I saw was Diane, smiling down at me, as the world spun into darkness.