The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

My investors were scared.

They’re always scared, like sheep. My name is Bobbie Peeper, but I usually think of myself as Bo Peep these days. I have to “herd” these wealthy, wary people into the direction that makes the most profit for them. It’s also the direction that gives me the greatest commission. The e-business sector was going to hell in a hand basket and anyone investing in tech faced the very real likelihood of losing everything.

Of course, I always knew it. Overvalued stock never makes money, ever. I tried to keep my investors away from it, but like children they kept insisting, “I wanna be in the new economy. I want the cutting edge.” The only way I could mitigate the damage was to invest with a venture capitalist, one who chose soundly and well. Her name was Oral D’Amper.

I didn’t like doing it, either. We’re competitors. I put out fires and deal with idiots while she has total autonomy from some huge chunk of Daddy’s money or something. I’m just as talented as she is, but she gets on all the magazine covers. She’s flashy, too, always impeccably dressed in matching tailored outfits of Scottish wool, Asian silk, English rubber and American polyester. Her suits probably even match her underwear, if the bitch wears any. One of the worst kept secrets about Oral D’Amper is that she was a lesbian employing a cadre of Amazonian love slaves. I didn’t know if I bought that story. I’ve been erroneously tagged with the label a few times myself. Why would any sane woman want to be a lesbian, anyway? I’d much rather have a guy stick me for a few minutes and fall asleep on top instead of being pleasured by a lusty woman for hours and hours until I passed out from cumming so much. How gross!

I still had to admit that she was smart and very competent. Her empire hadn’t fallen yet and I gave her at least 6 months before I needed to pull out of the venture. But I did want a face-to-face meeting. If she seemed on top of things, I’d corral my investors and keep them in the game. If not, I could gleefully enjoy my fat bonus at the same time I initiate Ms. D’Amper’s downfall.

I arrived at the international headquarters of PolyamorCorp, D’Amper’s company. I went to the receptionist and told her that I had an appointment with Oral. “Oh, you must be Ms. Peeper. I’ll have Ms. D’Amper’s assistant meet you right away.” The girl was blonde and perky. She would have been a stereotypical 50’s prom queen had it not been for one thing. I didn’t notice until she started talking, but she had a pierced tongue! How long did she think she’d stay on at this kind of job like that?

I saw what looked like some sort of pinstripe call girl come up to me. “Hi, Ms. Peeper? I’m Candy, Oral D’Amper’s personal assistant.” She was candy, all right. Eye candy. She must be on her feet all day, because her skirt was too short to accommodate sitting anywhere. Then again, her pumps looked too painfully uncomfortable to stay standing for any length of time. It was a perfect ensemble, an outfit one could only pull off horizontally. I gave more serious consideration to those rumors.

Candy proceeded to give me a tour of some of the various public interests they were involved with. The place was like a NOW meeting, with nary a man in sight. Despite her lack of personal modestly, Candy seemed to be well aware of the operation of the business down to the smallest detail. To be fair, the workplace wasn’t some live sex show or biker bar, either. There were beautiful women, average women, others pretty but not obviously so. A few were dressed inappropriately in my opinion, but it didn’t look like sexual harassment was a big concern here.

I could tell the slacker techies right away, and there were a lot of them. Those women had multiple piercings in their ears. Some had pierced noses and I supposed a few had a pierced tongue like the girl out front. As Candy led me to Ms. D’Amper’s office, I smiled, thinking that maybe those women got a group rate at a tattoo parlor or had some sort of drunken company softball team initiation. Hell, maybe it was part of a Gen-X company benefit plan.

Her office was cozy, to say the least. There were soft chairs, muted lights, and a couch that could double as a bed. It seemed out of place somehow, a sort of “I’m a woman, so my office has to look like a sitting room.” decoration statement. Maybe she lived in her office. I knew very little about her with the exception of the financial reports. She did magazine, but never TV interviews. I was only able to talk to her alone by hinting to withdraw financial support.

Oral D’Amper finally came in after 10 minutes or so. Standard tactic. I have to come to her office and then wait, no matter when I arrived. Candy sat across from me most of that time, forcing me to avert my gaze from the vicinity of her skirt. Despite that, she was remarkably informed about my various successes in the market. I admit I was flattered by the idea that so much research was done on me. Finally, she flashed a rather queer smile toward me and went out to fetch the woman. I saw them in the entrance, talking so quietly that I couldn’t hear. Then they both giggled. Before Candy walked away, Oral gave her a kiss, and not one of those “kiss kiss, bye bye” ones either. She worked her snakelike tongue into Candy’s mouth for what seemed like half an hour! I was shocked by just how unprofessional it was.

“What have I gotten myself into?” I thought. I just decided to stay cool and keep my opinions to myself. When she came in, I stood up, I’m used to this stupid dance. “Ms. D’Amper,” I said, taking the upper hand, literally, by going for the handshake first.

“Please, Oral is fine,” she replied, taking my hand. It was quite a grip and I swore there was some sort of static electricity there. “In fact, I prefer Oral.”

“Uh, sure.” I was a little taken aback. Her face showed no wrinkles, though she must be in her fifties by now. It didn’t look like she had work done, either. If so, it was absolutely flawless. And believe me, I looked hard. I couldn’t really see her eyes, though. She had some sort of “light sensitivity” problem I remembered reading about. Maybe the bright lights kept her off TV. She dealt with it by wearing dark glasses that only allowed me to see that she, in fact, had eyes. The glasses were very stylish, not bookish at all. They seemed to fit her like everything else. Her outfit was wonderfully tailored pinstripe, each line from the jacket to skirt connecting seamlessly. An exact match all the way down to her pinstripe flats. I’d never seen that before.

Oral motioned for me to sit first. I hesitated and she sat down instead, sensing I would make a contest out of it. She managed to regain the advantage by making me feel silly. “So, Bobbie,” she said, “I take it that some of your less ‘experienced’ investors are nervous about my plans for the future.”

“I wouldn’t put it that way.” I didn’t tell her she could call me ‘Bobbie,’ but I’d be damned if I let her see the effect it had. “You see, Ms., er, I mean, Oral, market dynamics are changing in a way that can be detrimental to my clients. These are serious concerns to even long-term investors. You may be good, but you’re not immortal,” I quipped. I then launched into a lot of double talk and endless jargon about where I thought the sector was going. I questioned Oral’s business plan. I pointed out the flaws in all her ventures. She didn’t respond, she didn’t reply. She just nodded, up and down, up and down.

I became quite flustered, watching her blonde hair glisten with each dismissive bob of her head. It was perfect, too perfect to be real, yet somehow too vibrant to be a dye job. Without the ability to look her in the eyes, I found myself fixating on the golden bangs that just touched the top of her eyeglasses. I finally ran out of steam, completely unable to go on. “I guess I’m looking for something specific to lessen my concerns.”

Oral D’Amper sighed, like I didn’t understand something. “I can see that you’ve given this a lot of thought. In fact, I wish you were working for me.” For her? I was starting to get upset by her apparent disregard for me. I’d hoped she would treat this more seriously.

“That’s not very likely,” I replied with humor.

She smiled. “In a way, we’re not all that different. Like you, my main concern is the bottom line.” Oral suddenly produced a small cloth from somewhere on her person. Its surface was slick, almost wet. Light played across it in colorful patterns. She tilted her head down, removing her glasses. I could only see her bangs and the motion of her hands polishing the lenses with that cloth. Before she put the eyeglasses back on, she looked up. I saw. Leapinlizards!

Burning heat. Electric tingle. So wet. D’Amper. Golden hair against my face. My hands on her bottom. Smooth skin. So perfect. Love to touch it. Wet. Tongue so deep. She’s putting that where?. Strong hands over my thin blouse. Hot. Wet. Oral. What happened to my clothes? I’m a silly little girl. Do what I’m told. Men are frightened little children. Like sheep. Have to be herded. I’m Little Bo Peep. I didn’t have to listen to them. Only listen to Oral. Never resist. Always obey.

“Bobbie, your concerns are valid,” Oral said. “I must assure you, however, that I have an understanding of human nature and who has the ability to succeed.”

“Well, that’s good to know.” She didn’t really answer my question. Then again, she’s smart. A lot smarter than I am. I knew some of the problems in her company that she didn’t, but Oral D’Amper would be able to fix them. I should stop resisting, it just made me seem foolish. She’s so good at this, I should be working for her. “Um, thanks.”

“Of course, " she said warmly. She was very warm, even kind of hot. Maybe I could flirt a little to distract her. I giggled at the thought. Sometimes I’m such a silly little girl. I think that maybe I need to be commanded. Oral D’Amper was certainly commanding. I didn’t want to talk about my clients anymore, but they’d want answers. I had to come back to them with something.

“I, uh, really hate to ask this, but I have to. I mean, I need some assurances. You know, the bottom line,” I offered nervously while running a finger along my ass.

“I understand completely,” she said is a voice that flowed like honey. “You poor dear, dealing with all those insecure men, having to soothe their fragile egos.” She was so condescending, it made me feel degraded and hot all at the same time.

“No,” I protested. “I don’t. Well, not really. A few of them are women.” I trailed off. Most of them were men, and they acted like frightened little boys. Nothing like Oral. She wasn’t young, she was ageless. So far, I’ve come to like Oral very much.

Again, she made me feel a little foolish, just sort of appraising me as I went on and on about pointless concerns. “Hmmm,” she said and looked down. She suddenly produced a small cloth from somewhere on her person. Its surface was slick, almost wet. Light played across it in colorful patterns. She pulled down her glasses and rubbed them with the cloth. All I could see were her bangs and her hands playing the cloth over the lenses in a vaguely familiar manner. I saw the cloth slide between her fingers, her fingers moving in her lap. I was transfixed. Before I knew it, I was licking my lips. I hope she doesn’t see. She’s looking up at me. Leapinlizards!

Burning heat. Electric tingle. So wet. D’Amper. The golden spray of hair against my face. I’m on the bottom. Smooth skin. Need a razor so bad. So perfect. Love to touch it. Wet. Tongue so deep. I can’t believe it fits there. Strong hands over my flesh. Hot. Wet. Oral. Flawless, perfect. I’m a silly little girl. Do what I’m told. Men are frightened little children. Like sheep. Have to be herded. I’m Little Bo Peep. Must lose the sheep. I didn’t have to listen to them. Only listen to Oral. Never resist. Always obey.

“Don’t you get tired of it?” Oral asked.

“Yes, so tired,” I said reflexively. I was tired, but my mind caught up. “Wait, what am I tired of?”

She regarded me with an expression that made it clear what a silly question that was. “You don’t like working for fools. Most of the time you have to convince men with money to do what is perfectly obvious. You would much rather put those financial talents to good use.”

Damn straight! I was sick of working for these skittish little men. Boys, really. “But this is my job,” I protested weakly. It was my job to soothe egos. I hated that job. I wanted to be my own person. “It’s your job, too.”

“No it’s not, Bobbie,” she said like someone having to explain that water was wet. Her dismissive tone made me wet. How could I say something so silly? I’ve been around men too long, in a “man’s world.” I didn’t have to. I wondered if I could work for Oral D’Amper. I’m not the financial genius she is, but I’m sure I could serve her. Maybe I could be a “personal” assistant like Candy. I bet I’m as good as her. It was weird to think like that, but I’m a risk taker and it’s good to try new things.

Oral spoke to me in a way that made me leak through my panties, except that I didn’t seem to be wearing any. “I work on my own terms, I have control over all aspects of my business life. I am the bottom line. The people who work for me are hand picked and they’re very loyal. If you came to work for me, I’d expect you to be there for me twenty-four hours a day. I’d make you work for my good favor.”

That was so hot! I’d jump at the chance to serve and work for her. If only she’d have me. I’d love to work for Oral. In fact, I’d like to have Oral right here, right now.

“Would you like me to work for you?” I meant it coyly. Instead, it came out as a small voiced plea. A supplication to a powerful Mistress. Somehow, it was as it should be.

“A fascinating offer. Give me a moment to consider,” she said, looking down. Oral D’Amper suddenly produced a small cloth from somewhere on her person. I felt a rush when I saw it for some reason. Its surface was slick, almost wet. Light played across it in colorful patterns. She pulled down her glasses and rubbed them with the cloth. All I could see were her bangs and her hands playing the cloth over the lenses. I saw the cloth slide between her fingers, her fingers moving in her lap. I was entranced, thinking of that hot pussy. Before I knew it, I was bucking my hips. I hope she sees. She’s looking up at me. Leapinlizards!

Burning heat. Electric razor. So tingly. So wet. D’Amper. The golden shower over my face. The plug leaving lines in my bottom. Smooth skin. The razor feels so good. So perfectly smooth. Like a silly little girl. Love to touch it. Wet. Tongue so deep. Put it in harder! Strong hands piercing my hard nipples. Hot. Wet. Oral. Flawless, perfect. Do what I’m told. Men are frightened little children. I’m Little Bo Peep. Control the sheep. I didn’t have to listen to them. Love Oral. Only listen to Oral. Never resist. Always obey.

“You can convince them, then?” She looked at me with approval. I came. Hard.

“Oh yes, Mistress, um, Ms D’Amper,” I squealed, feeling the butt plug as I slid off the leather seat.

“Call me Oral in the office. There are other places to address me as Mistress.”

“Of course, Oral.” I was so happy to be working under her. I shivered with joy at the though of being under her later. Now I just had to deal with the little boys who wanted to take their money away because their toy wasn’t as shiny and new as before. Screw them. At least I could let them think I would. Men are so easy to manipulate. But I only tease them. I wasn’t a slut any more, not for them. Only for my Mistress. I was empowered now, or I was a sex slave lulled into a sense of empowerment. Whichever.

I could control men, I could herd them. They’re easily led. Soon, Oral D’Amper would find other backers, ones who weren’t so childish. My former clients could find someone else. I’ll be working for the Mistress. I’ll be the one whose being led. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? No longer Bo Peep. Then again, I wonder if I could still get a costume, or maybe some hot pinstripe flats.