The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It was a Saturday, and Cathy was reading her morning paper. Reading the paper was part of her morning ritual: the Life section, then Business (to check on the mutual fund she’d carefully built up), then the front page, and then Viewpoints and the editorials. Sometimes, if she was bored, she’d read the classifieds. That morning she was definitely bored.

Cathy glanced at the Personals. She’d never answered a newspaper personal ad, to be sure, but something about them appealed to the romantic in her. Besides, they were interesting glances into the human psyche. She looked down the list, seeing arcane phrases like “DWM ISO SWF”, finding nothing remarkable—until, that is, she got to an ad that drew her attention.

SLAVES WANTED

Has free will become a bother? Has making your own choices and decisions become a nuisance? Call me, and all that stress and worry will go away as you turn into a mind-controlled slut. I will, absolutely free of charge, turn you into a sex-crazed slave with no free will of her own. Become my servant, and say goodbye to the cares and worries of life, and hello to the joys of pleasing Master! Call Bob, 46189.

The idea drew a giggle from Cathy. “Hey Monica! Come take a look at this!”

A muffled grunt came from the couch. “What?” Monica, Cathy’s Korean roommate, tore herself away from “Pinky and the Brain” and shuffled over to the table. Cathy and Monica had been best friends since they were freshman roommates and sorority sisters in college. Now, two years after graduation, they were roommates still. Cathy was a travel agent and Monica was a portrait photographer.

“Read this ad!”

Monica read, and arched an eyebrow as she finished. “Wow. Looks like a first-class weirdo there, Cathy. I wonder how many bodies he has buried in the garden.”

Cathy laughed again. “Yeah. Still, it’s the most original personal ad I’ve ever read. I think I’ll answer it.”

Monica’s arched brow was replaced by open-mouthed astonishment. “What? Are you kidding? That guy’s a freak, Cathy! You can’t call him!”

“Oh calm down. I’m just going to call the message on the voice mail.”

To answer an ad, one placed a call to the paper—fee of $1—and dialed the extension listed in the ad. This would access a voice mail message left by whoever one was looking for. Cathy did so. After a short interlude of cheerful muzak, she heard a voice. “Hi, this is Bob. If you came this far, you should be willing to call me. Please dial 1-800-SLAVERY to take the next step on your journey. That’s 1-800-SLAVERY. Goodbye.”

She hung up, bemused. The polite voice certainly didn’t jibe with the image of a powerful slave master that she had in her head. Then again, neither did a generic name like “Bob.”

“Well?” Monica demanded.

“Nothing much. Just a number to call to reach him.”

“Cathy, you’re not going to.”

“Of course not.”

She thought about it, though, laughing to herself as she went about her grocery shopping. Bob the Mind-Controller. Sounded like a bad comic book villain. What nerve the guy must have. Cathy wondered if anyone had called the number. What would she get if she did? Handcuffs? A slave collar?

Oh what the hell.

On the way home from Albertson’s, she dialed the number on her cell phone. A woman’s voice picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hi. Is Bob there?”

“Yes, he is. Just a second.” She didn’t sound like a zombie. She sounded rather bright, actually.

Cathy waited, growing more curious.

“Hello, this is Bob.”

She grinned again at the sound of his mild baritone voice. “Hi, my name’s Cathy. Is this the slave master?”

“Speaking! You saw the ad, I presume.”

“Yep. Quite unique, Mr. Bob.”

“Just ‘Bob’. So, are you ready to serve me?”

Cathy smothered a laugh. “Oh, I don’t think so. I was just curious to see what happened when I dialed the number.”

“I see. Are you married, Cathy?”

“No.” Indeed, she had not had a serious relationship since college.

“Children?”

“Nope. Is this the slave questionnaire?”

“Basically. I can’t take everyone, you know.”

This time she laughed out loud. “Of course not.”

“Would you say that you’re attractive, Catherine?”

“Well, I try not to be vain about it, but yes, I guess I am attractive.”

“Any diseases?”

That question might have been offensive in another setting, but in this Twilight Zone conversation, it wasn’t. “No.”

“Wonderful. Let’s meet tomorrow.”

“What?” Cathy nearly dropped the phone in surprise. “I don’t really feel like being strangled and tossed in a Dumpster.”

Now it was Bob’s turn to laugh. “How about someplace public, where you’ll feel safe. There’s a Starbuck’s coffee shop across from the Metropolitan Bank downtown. Meet me there at noon and we’ll chat. The strangulation can wait for later.”

At first, Cathy felt a powerful urge to hang up her cell phone and forget about the whole conversation. However, after a moment, a feeling of curiosity seeped into her brain. It couldn’t hurt, could it? He sounded harmless, despite the kooky ad. She’d meet him, get a laugh, and go home. Why not?

“Sure, that sounds great. How will I know you?”

“Let’s see. I have dark brown hair, a pale complexion, and glasses. I’ll be wearing a black shirt with a silver tie, and I’ll be reading a book. OK?”

“OK, great, looking forward to it.”

“Excellent. Noon tomorrow, then. Bye bye, Cathy.”

“Bye!” Cathy clicked off and glanced at her phone in wonder. She had just made a lunch date with a stranger. A strange stranger, no less, an oddball who was probably hoping to make her the star in some S&M fantasy. This wasn’t like her at all. What had she been thinking? Cathy took a deep breath and calmed down. It was no big deal. She’d have a cappuccino and give some little nutbar the thrill of his life just by showing up. Cathy smiled to herself as she entered her apartment building’s parking garage.

They had Chinese delivered that night. Monica looked up from her Moo Shu Pork and asked, “Hey, what are you doing tomorrow?”

“Not much, why?”

“Wanna catch a matinee?” Monica loved going to the movies.

“Um, I don’t think so. I have to run some errands.”

Disappointed sigh. “OK.” Monica hadn’t gone out on a date since her last boyfriend, who turned out to be a two-timing creep, dumped her three months before. Cathy felt bad for turning her down, but she had an appointment.

Cathy was humming to herself as she dressed for her meeting the next morning. She was actually excited to meet this guy! How pathetic am I, she thought, but her cheerful mood continued. She pulled one of her favorite pantsuits out of her closet and put it on. She applied her makeup carefully, fixed her hair, grabbed a pair of flats and rolled out the door.

She barely made it on time. Cathy stepped through the door and saw him immediately, at a window table, with an iced coffee and a small salad, reading a copy of Alice in Wonderland.

After a brief hesitation, she walked over. “Hi, I’m Cathy.”

“Hello there.” He stood and extended his hand. He was five foot eight, the same height as she, he wore glasses, and he couldn’t have weighed more than 150 pounds. Hardly seemed like a slave master. He looked more like a math teacher.

They sat, Cathy ordered an iced cappuccino, and they began to talk. “So how are you?” Bob inquired.

“Oh I’m fine, I’m good. Traffic was rough getting here, though.”

“Yes, unusually so for a Saturday. I must say, you’re gorgeous, Cathy. I love redheads.”

“Thank you.” She blushed like a schoolgirl. Cathy was of Irish Catholic stock, and it showed in her red hair, fair complexion, and green eyes. She was proud of the light freckles that proved her hair color was natural. Some of her friends said she looked like Nicole Kidman.

“Really, you’re quite lovely. I had a feeling you’d be a beauty.”

Then he looked her over again, and she had a strange vision, a hallucination so vivid she nearly cried out in surprise. She saw herself as someone else might see her, as Bob might see her. She was naked. Her red hair, freed from the pins that held it up at work, cascaded down to her shoulders. Her eyes burned with hunger and lust. She cupped her heavy breasts and offered them to the viewer, pinching her nipples to make them hard. Her stomach was flat and toned. A tight waist flared out to child-bearing hips. She bent one sleek leg, striking a pose. Between her legs was the other thing that proved her hair color was natural....

Then, as suddenly as it came, the vision was gone. She blinked, shook the cobwebs out of her head, and rejoined the conversation.

“Thank you again. Am I attractive enough to be your slave?” Cathy smiled at the idea of this mild little man being anyone’s master. She was already forgetting her vision of the wanton slut.

“Oh certainly. You’ll do quite nicely.” He said this without a trace of irony in his voice. Cathy bit her cheek to smother a giggle. “Tell me, Cathy, what do you do?”

“I’m a travel agent. I work at a firm here downtown.”

“Interesting. Does it pay well?”

“Well enough, I guess. What about you? What do you do?”

Bob gave her an enigmatic half-smile. “I lead a life of leisure.”

“Nice work if you can get it.”

Bob broke eye contact and glanced at her chest. “Nice tits, Catherine. How big are they?”

Cathy’s first reaction was astonishment. Anger quickly followed. You sexist pig, she thought, and she raised her hand to slap that arrogant look off Bob’s face—but then her anger melted. Men always stare at my boobs. At least he’s honest. Besides, it was a compliment, even if it was a little crass. “I’m a 38D.”

“Do you like having big tits?”

“Well, sometimes they’re a pain, but yeah, I guess I do. They make me feel feminine. Plus, I like the power over men that my body gives me.”

Bob chuckled at that. “Wonderful. Do you live alone, Cathy?”

She wondered whether or not she was being a little too frank with Bob. He was asking some pretty personal questions. Still, there was protection in anonymity.

“No, I have a roommate.”

“Tell me about her.”

“She’s a photographer. Korean. Short, but curvy. Very pretty, I think.”

“Good, good.” Bob nibbled at his salad.

“So, how do you do it?” Cathy asked.

He paused. “Do what?”

“Enslave women! Turn them into—what was the phras—’mind-controlled sluts’. Drugs? Subliminals?” She leaned forward, looked Bob right in the eye, and said in a low voice, “Pocket watches?”

He smiled. “Nope, no tricks. I don’t even know if that sort of thing is possible.”

“Then how?”

“Psychic energy, Cathy. The power of my mind.”

Cathy laughed out loud. “Oh come ON. You can come up with something better than that.”

“Really, I’m serious. I was born with a gift. The ability to influence and condition people, you might say, using only my thoughts.”

“Whatever.”

“Do you suck cock, Cathy?”

Once again, she flushed with anger and embarrassment, and once again, she decided on further reflection to answer. “Sometimes. On occasion.”

“Why?”

A pause. “Usually, because I want the guy to return the favor.”

“But not because you enjoy it.”

“No.”

“Do you swallow?”

She wrinkled her nose in displeasure. “No. Disgusting.”

He said nothing else, and for a moment they both picked at their salads in silence. Finally, Cathy spoke up. “You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?”

Bob didn’t even look up from his plate. “Doesn’t matter.”

“OK, Mr. Psychic, when do you start brainwashing me?”

“Already have.”

Cathy was incredulous. “You haven’t done anything!”

He looked at her blandly. “I beg to differ, sweetheart. I have already conditioned you to trust me and be completely honest with me. You’re actually quite a good subject. Tell me, Catherine, do you normally share your cup size with strangers?”

“No, but—”

“Or your attitudes towards fellatio?”

“No.”

“Of course not. Yet you have to me.”

“But I—that doesn’t prove anything.” There was a touch of fear in her voice.

“If you say so.” Bob finished his salad, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen and a small memo pad. “Do me a favor, Cathy. Give me your full name, your home and work phone numbers, and your home and work addresses.”

She did so.

“Thanks.” Without another word, he picked up the check, went to the register, and paid. Cathy followed him to the register and out the front door.

Outside, she offered her hand, which he shook. “It was nice to meet you, Bob. You’re certainly interesting.”

“Thank you very much.” Then he quickly embraced her and kissed her hard on the lips. Cathy stiffened with surprise, then pressed herself against him.

It was Bob who broke the embrace and pulled away. “Bye for now, Catherine.”

Her heart pounded and her stomach fluttered on the way home. Cathy gripped the steering wheel and tried to gather her thoughts. Bob was weird, no doubt. He really did seem to believe that mind-control crap. Yet he was intriguing, too. So calm and self-assured. Cathy liked confident men.

She didn’t even notice when her nipples got hard.

She thought about Bob that evening as well, wondering what he was like and how he lived, and when he would call her. Monday found her at her desk at the travel agency, working industriously. She was tapping at her computer, checking on flights to Chicago, when the shadow fell across her desk.

“Hello, Catherine.”

Her heart literally skipped a beat. “Hello.”

“Ready to begin the next phase of your training?”

She frowned. “You can drop the master routine, Bob.”

“If you like. We’re going out tonight, by the way.”

“Oh really? I don’t recall making a date.”

“Well, that’s why we are now. I’ll be picking you up at eight.”

“How do you know I don’t have plans?”

“You’ll break them if you do. But you don’t, do you?”

Make something up. Get him to go away. She tried to think of something, but she couldn’t. For some reason, the thought of lying to Bob made her nervous. “No.”

“Good. Please, be ready at eight. I despise waiting.”

“Okay,” she said weakly. Then he got up and went out the door.

Cathy dressed for her date, finished fine-tuning her makeup at 7:50, and sat on the couch to wait. Monica, who was at the table paying bills, was curious.

“Do you have a date tonight, Cathy?”

“Yep.”

“Cool. Who is it?”

“Some guy who came into the office a few days ago. He called me back today and asked me out for dinner.”

“Is he cute?”

Cathy considered before answering. “Yeah, he is.”

“Great. Hey, be careful, OK?”

“Yes, Mom.”

Promptly at eight, her cell phone rang. “It’s me. I’m waiting across the street,” said Bob.

“Have a good time,” said Monica.

His rather handsome sports car was parked across from the front entrance. Bob gave her outfit an appreciative glance—simple button blouse, matching knee-length skirt and jacket, flats—gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and opened the door like a gentleman.

He drove across town to a Greek place that, according to Bob, boasted “an excellent octopus appetizer.” Cathy passed on that and any other items with tentacles.

They chatted while munching on pita bread. “So how’s the enslavement going?” asked Cathy.

“Pretty well, I think. Do you feel any different?”

“No.”

“Excellent. So, tell me about yourself, Catherine. Give me your life history.”

She did. It was a rather standard, middle-class one. Cathy was recounting her parents’ divorce when she started to feel uncomfortable.

“Are you warm?”

Bob stabbed a chunk of octopus. “Nope.”

“Well, it feels hot in here to me.”

The waitress dropped off her beef kabob and Bob’s gyro plate. Cathy felt like a change of subject. “So tell me how you enslave people.”

This perked up Bob’s interest. “Actually I don’t acquire slaves all that often. More typically, I use my power in small ways to make my life easier. The most important thing to remember when making a slave is to do it gradually. Trying to condition a woman all at once can do a lot of damage.”

He prattled on in that vein while Cathy humored his delusions and tried to ignore how much she was sweating. Finally she couldn’t stand it. “You don’t think it’s hot in here?”

“No,” Bob said, “but if you’re so uncomfortable, take off your jacket.”

“Good idea.” She shucked it off and hung it on her seat. The blouse was perfectly fine without the jacket, anyway. “So, what were you saying?”

“Oh yeah. My best advantage as a mind-controller is that no one believes that sort of thing is possible. This means their guard is down, even when I tell them what I’m going to do, as I’ve told you....”

The waitress refilled Bob’s coffee. Cathy found herself enjoying the sound of his voice. It was soothing. Reassuring. She realized that despite his eccentricities, she was attracted to him. After a while she drifted off. She found herself sort of floating, off in her own world, listening not just to Bob’s words but his tone, a tone that seemed to have its own meaning, like a second message hidden in code, telling her to relax, open up, accept him....

“Cathy!” said Bob in a sharp voice that broke her out of her reverie. “What are you doing?”

She blinked and came to. Bob was grinning at her wickedly. Several of the customers were pointing and staring at her. Their waitress, pitcher of iced tea in hand, was gaping in astonishment.

Now she was scared. “Bob, why is everyone—”

“Look down, Catherine.”

She looked down.

Her blouse was off.

It was completely off, unbuttoned, slipped off her arms, and bunched around her waist. Now she had only her bra on, and it was not a modest one. It was a daring little thing that showed her round D-cups off.

Cathy froze for a second, then bolted to her feet and dashed out of the restaurant without pausing to put her blouse on. She realized as she ran through the parking lot that her bra was unhooked in the back too.

She stood by the car, sobbing. Bob walked up, still grinning, with her blouse and jacket in hand. “I left a fifty on the table. Let’s go, Catherine.”

She was still crying, wearing only her unhooked bra, as they drove the city streets. Bob, on the other hand, was very calm. “Why are you so upset?”

“Why?” she screeched. “What are you talking about? I was practically NAKED in there! I took my blouse off without even noticing! If you hadn’t said anything I’d probably have taken my bra off too and flashed the whole restaurant! Oh my God, I’m so embarrassed.”

Bob patted her shoulder as he turned from Harbor Drive onto Downing Street. “You know, Cathy, you should take your bra off now.”

She stared at him dumbly. “What?”

“Go ahead, take it off. You don’t really need it anymore.”

Wordlessly, she complied. She carelessly tossed her bra into the backseat, letting her boobs hang free. She stared at them in wonder.

Bob accelerated through a yellow light, then reached over to fondle a bare tit. Cathy sighed. “Tonight was an important night for you, Catherine. You are learning how to surrender yourself to my control. The doubts and fears you are feeling come from the part of you that is resisting. Eventually that part of you will give up. You’ll surrender, and then you’ll be happier than you ever have in your entire life.”

He rolled a nipple between thumb and forefinger as they waited at a stoplight. Cathy whimpered softly and looked out the window, where she saw the driver in the other lane looking at them with undisguised interest. She didn’t mind.

Finally they stopped at her apartment complex. They waited in silence for a moment, and then Cathy asked, hesitantly, “Bob, would you like to come up?”

He smiled. “No, I don’t think so. That will wait for another time.” He kissed her on the lips, tenderly, and held her face in his hands after he broke the kiss. “Now you get dressed and go back to your place. Leave the bra in the backseat. I’m going to keep it.”

She was displeased, since it was a fairly expensive bra, but she obeyed. Monica was on the couch leafing through a paperback when Cathy entered, makeup still streaked from crying, jacket in hand, obviously braless. “Honey, are you all right?”

“Yes Monica, I am.”

Her roommate was still concerned. “Cathy, did your date try anything with you?”

Catherine flashed her most reassuring smile. “No. Really, Monica, it’s all right. I had a good time, but I’m tired. I’m going to bed now.”

“OK. You’ll have to give me all the details tomorrow.”

So Catherine went to bed, masturbated herself to a lovely orgasm, and slept like the dead.

Bob the Mind-Controller showed up twice at the agency that week to take her out to lunch. Her coworkers were full of curiosity about her new boyfriend, but Cathy was non-committal. Nothing weird happened at their lunches, thankfully. Mostly they just talked. Bob was a very interesting person. She felt like she could listen to him talk for hours. Cathy was reluctant to admit it even to herself, but she knew she was falling for him.

She didn’t hear from him at all on Saturday, which was frustrating, because he still hadn’t given her his number. Cathy spent Sunday cleaning the apartment and doing laundry, trying to get her mind off him, but it didn’t work. She was thrilled when she heard the phone ring.

“Hello!”

“Hello Catherine.”

That voice. Her master’s voice, Cathy thought, and a short laugh escaped her lips. “How are you, Bob?”

“Fine, just fine. So, what have you been up to?”

They chatted about nothing much for a while. Cathy basked in the sound of his warm, comforting voice. She twirled a lock of her hair with her free hand, drifting off on Bob’s words, not thinking about very much until he pulled a surprise on her.

“Say Cathy, I had an idea while I was sitting around the house today.”

“What’s that?”

“You said your roommate is a photographer? Portraits?”

“Yep. Once in a while she’s hired to photograph weddings or some other function.”

“Does she ever do bedroom portraits?”

“You mean, erotica?” Cathy paused to think. “I believe she does, once in a while. Wives that want to surprise their husbands, usually.”

“Lovely. Catherine, I want you to have your roommate take nude photos of you.”

Her eyes open wide with surprise, and she nearly dropped the phone. “What?”

“You heard me. Nude photos. The sexier, the better.”

Cathy was dumbfounded. “Are you serious?”

“I certainly am. You’re my slave, aren’t you?”

She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Sure.”

“Well, then you should be eager to do anything that will make me happy, and this will definitely make me happy.”

She regarded the phone with amazement, and then put it back to her mouth. “Bob, you are, without a doubt, the cockiest—”

Click.

The very idea was ridiculous, of course. Cathy dismissed it out of hand, and then forgot about it. Or at least she tried to. She tried to forget about it while cleaning the kitchen, when she threw her clothes in the dryer, and while she and Monica ate Chinese takeout. Didn’t work. Cathy kept imagining herself posing nude, seducing a camera. Once in college, a cheerful fellow who was scouting talent for a Playboy “Girls of the Pac-10” layout gave her his card and suggested she try out. She’d considered it for some time before throwing his card away. Maybe she’d been wrong to be so shy.

Cathy visualized striking poses for Monica’s camera all through dinner. By the time she finished off her fried rice, she’d made her decision. “Mon?”

Monica looked up from her book. “What?”

“Do you could think you could photograph me sometime?”

She grinned. “Sure! On the house! Come by my studio anytime! Well, maybe not anytime. I’m actually booked solid through Wednesday, but you could swing by after hours, or we could do it later in the week.”

“Don’t you have some equipment here?”

Monica looked at her oddly. “You know I do. I have a camera, and some spare lighting equipment in my closet. What, you want me to shoot you now? I don’t have any of the backdrops here.”

Cathy chafed at the thought of delay. “That’s ok, we could do it in my bedroom, couldn’t we?”

Her roommate was clearly mystified. “Um, I guess, but what for?”

“Well, I was thinking you could take some nude shots of me.”

Cathy waited for a response. Monica gave her the familiar arched eyebrow. “And you’d like to do this tonight?”

“Why not?”

Monica smiled and snapped her book shut. “Why not indeed. Let’s do it in my room; the lights are already in there.”

Soon Monica had the lights adjusted to her satisfaction. “Come on in, Cath.”

Cathy entered a little hesitantly. She was still wearing the simple blouse and skirt she’d worn to work. “So, how do we start?”

“It depends on what you want. Do you want tasteful, arty nudes, or sexy stuff?”

“Sexy stuff.”

“No problem. Sit by the bed.” Cathy did so. “OK, let’s make this a striptease. Take your clothes off nice and slow. I’ve got plenty of film here, so I’ll be shooting a lot. Wait a sec.” She punched the PLAY button on a little boombox, and Sarah McLachlan filled the room. Monica grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. Don’t have any stripper music. OK, go ahead, Cath.”

Slowly and self-consciously, Cathy unbuttoned her blouse, revealing the silk bra that barely contained her tits. She shivered a little from the cold air conditioning—Monica had a bad habit of setting the thermostat for “Arctic”—and her nipples poked against the thin silk.

“Headlights!” Monica cried, and they both laughed. “Now Cathy, you have to relax. Try to imagine that your dream man is over here. You want him more than anything in this world, and now’s your chance to seduce him. Show him that hot body of yours.”

“OK, Mon.” Cathy tried to imagine a non-specific dream man, but Bob’s image popped up into her mind instead. He was hardly the athletic, toned type she used to fantasize about, but she found herself getting turned on by thinking about him. She smiled and blew the camera a kiss.

“Good, good.” said Monica. Click went the shutter.

Cathy slipped out of her blouse and tossed it across the room. Click. She leaned forward and pouted her lips, her tits dangling in front of the camera. Click. She turned away, and undid the zipper to her skirt. Cathy bent forward as she let the slip drop, showing her firm round ass to the camera’s eye. She was wearing high-cut bikini panties. She looked over her shoulder and gave Monica her sultriest smile. Click. “Excellent, honey, very sexy.”

Now she was wearing bra, panties, stockings and garter belt—those were a gift from Bob—and high heels. Cathy stood and put one foot on the chair by Monica’s desk, showing off her long, toned leg for the camera. Slowly she peeled the stocking down, slipped it off, and then put her shoe back on. Click. She did the same with the other leg. Click.

“Cathy, you are one hot bitch.”

Laughter. “Monica!”

“Well, you are.”

She sat in the chair and turned it to the camera, spreading her legs wide and licking her lips. Click. Then she turned her back again and undid her bra clasp. Cathy let the straps slide down and then tossed it away, bumping her hips as she did so.

“Beautiful.” Monica’s voice was a little thick, and Cathy noticed that her roommate was sweating, despite the cool temperature. Cathy squeezed her ripe 38D tits together, offering them to the camera, and to her roommate. Click. Then she bent her head down, lifted her left breast up, and sucked her own nipple. Click. Click.

“Think I might send these to Hugh Hefner.” But Monica’s humor was forced, and Cathy could hear the arousal in her roommate’s voice. Cathy turned away and slowly, ever so slowly, pulled her panties down and off. She faced her roommate, who was taking pictures more rapidly now. Cathy sat down on the chair and spread her legs again, exposing herself. Click click click.

She spread her pussy lips apart. Monica gasped softly but continued to take pictures. With her right hand Cathy started stroking her clit. Finally Monica let go of the camera. She was staring, mouth slightly open. Cathy smiled knowingly. “What’s the matter, Mon? Don’t you like what you see?” She stood and advanced towards her roommate. “Don’t you think I’m pretty, Mon? Don’t you like me?”

Monica’s jaw twitched but nothing came out. Cathy stepped forward again and kissed her full on the lips. Monica instantly melted into the kiss, plunging her tongue into Cathy’s mouth. They kissed passionately, Cathy pressing her ripe body against Monica while Monica squeezed her ass.

They set the camera on the floor. Soon Monica’s T-shirt and jeans were on the floor too, and the roommates were on the bed in the heat of passion. “Please, I need it now,” said Cathy as Monica eagerly sucked on one stiff nipple. Monica moved down Cathy’s chest and belly, sprinkling kisses along the way, until she reached Cathy’s eager pussy. She dove in, licking and sucking, teasing Cathy’s clit with her teeth and tongue, while the redhead groaned with pleasure, legs kicking, squealing as the wonderful orgasm ran through her body.

Later, after they were done, Monica nestled close to Cathy. “That was wonderful, Cath. I mean, I’ve always been bi, but I thought you were totally straight. Here I’ve been dating all these loser men when I could have been home having fun with you.”

Cathy lay on her back cuddling with Monica as she tried to process what had just happened. She was rather surprised to find out that her old friend was a bisexual. She was even more surprised at what she herself had just done. Cathy WAS totally straight. Or at least, she had been. Maybe not. But she’d never even had a lesbian fantasy before! Cathy closed her eyes in frustration. What’s happening to me?

Monday was a rather quiet day at the office. She wondered about Monica, and what last night might lead to, but mostly she thought of Bob. That mind-control stuff was silly posturing, of course, but he did have an undeniable effect on her. He was intoxicating. Cathy felt like Bob had a great pair of scissors and he was cutting the links mooring her to reality. Would she lose control? The thought both terrified her and filled her with arousal.

He came in a little after lunch and sat at her desk, wearing a cheery grin. She was thrilled to see him. “Hello, Bob!”

“Hi Cathy. Ready to begin the next phase of your training?”

She frowned. “You know, you can stop pretending to be some master brainwasher. It’s getting kind of old.”

“OK.” He put a large bag on the desk. “I brought you some things. Things to wear.”

“Really? You didn’t have to get me anything.” Cathy looked inside, and her eyebrows arched with surprise and disdain. The bag held a pair of black shoes with four-inch heels, a pair of fishnet stockings to go with garter belt, a red leather micro-mini that looked to be fourteen inches long, and a black tube top that she could tell at a glance was too small for her.

She looked back to him quizzically. “I’m not a prostitute, Bob.”

“Well, you are if I say you are. Besides, I think this stuff would look good on you.”

Cathy’s initial disapproval clashed with a rush of excitement as she imagined Bob ogling her in the outfit he had bought. She tried to smother her rising lust with a show of anger. “I think you need to leave now.”

A sly smile. “But I just got here!”

“Get out, right now.” But she didn’t mean it, not anymore.

“I don’t think so. Say, I’m thinking about a vacation. How much for a first-class ticket to Paris next month?”

Cathy was glad for the opportunity to concentrate on her work. Bob was having that same intoxicating effect on her again, making her feel happy and relaxed. She could feel her inhibitions melting under the warmth of his charisma. They talked about airfares and windows for travel and frequent-flier mileage. As she explained his options, she felt her lust build up inside herself. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, but the heat in her pussy, and the feeling of emptiness, wouldn’t go away.

“Can you book me a hotel room?” he asked. “Oh, will I save any money if I leave during the work week?”

She tried to answer him, but she couldn’t catch her breath. Cathy was panting with arousal now. She could feel the sweat on her forehead. She could feel the sweat from her neck trickle down her chest and fall in the deep valley between her breasts. Her pussy throbbed with need. How long had it been since she’d had a man? Months. Centuries. Forever. Why had she waited so long? She was a hot piece of ass and she needed a good hard fuck. God I need it!

Now she was slumped back in her chair bonelessly. Her legs were spread wide apart, and she was slipping a hand underneath the hem of her skirt. She realized dimly that she was fingering herself in a public place, that Bob was staring at her, and that she’d forgotten to wear panties, but none of those things mattered. Getting the orgasm she so desperately needed mattered.

She thrust her fingers into her wet pussy. Bob watched as she rubbed at her clit furiously, lost in a fog of arousal and sensation. It felt wonderful. Cathy moaned with pleasure and closed her eyes. She opened them again to see Jill, a coworker on the other side of the room, staring at her in shock.

Too late to worry about that now. Cathy rubbed harder, frantic for her release. She moaned through clenched teeth. Finally she came, and it seemed that the orgasm would flood through her forever. She bit her lip to keep from screaming.

She flopped back on her chair, spent. Bob stood and tossed a card on the desk. “Be there at nine. Wear the clothes.” Then he got up and left.

Dazed, Cathy squinted at the card. It was from a popular downtown bar/nightclub. She looked up to see Jill walking over to her.

Jill leaned over the desk and looked straight at Cathy. She wore a scowl. “Do us all a favor, and keep the kinky stuff at home.”

At home, after work, the minutes slowly ticked away. Monica complained endlessly about some screaming child she’d had to photograph that day, and Cathy clucked sympathetically, but she was thinking about Bob, and the tarty clothes he’d bought her. A second glance in the bag had confirmed that they were still horrible. She’d look like a streetwalker. Obviously, she should throw them away and make Bob find someone else to play his odd domination games.

Then she thought about how disappointed he’d be, and she felt guilty. Really, what harm would it do? Behind his silly mind-control games, after all, he was just a weird little man with a fetish. She could wear the clothes and give him a thrill. Maybe tease him a bit. Leave him frustrated at the end of the evening. Yes, that would show the smug little bastard. In the meantime, Bob and every other guy in the place would be staring at her, checking her out, ogling her sexy body.

Her panties were wet.

Time to leave. She squeezed into the outfit and appraised herself in the mirror. The heels made her legs look great. The skirt clung to her ass like shrink wrap. Her nipples were clearly visible beneath the stretch fabric of her tank top, which failed to contain the round tops of her tits. Cathy realized she was turning herself on.

She tried to sneak out, but without success. Monica was surprised that she was leaving, and appalled at her outfit. “Christ, Cathy, are you going to a costume party?”

“No, just out for the evening.”

“Well, you don’t have to dress like that to get laid.” Monica smiled coquettishly.

“I’m not going out to get laid! I’m meeting someone!” Instantly she regretted saying that.

Monica lit up with interest. “What? Who?”

She couldn’t think of a lie. “Bob.”

“What? The slavemaster guy from the ad? Are you nuts?”

Her anger rose. “Are you jealous or something? I like MEN, Monica.”

Cathy stormed out the door, but not before seeing the hurt, slapped expression on Monica’s face. It was a cheap shot, and she regretted it, but at least it had shut Monica up.

She arrived at the club promptly at nine. It was a nice place. The music was good and the buzz of conversation filled the air. Rather than sampling the dance floor or pool table, she sat at the bar, ordered a daiquiri, and waited for Bob.

And waited. And waited some more. She had another daiquiri and fended off several men in various stages of intoxication. Finally, just before ten, he sauntered through the front door and up to the bar.

“Hello sexy.”

“You’re late.” Her irritation faded before her pleasure at seeing him.

“It’s all part of your training, Cathy. You have to learn to do what I tell you. You have to learn to fit your schedule to mine. You’ll be waiting on me a lot in the future.”

“Aye aye, sir.” She tried to stay pissed, but the daiquiris had her feeling loose.

He turned to the bartender. “She’ll have another, and I’ll have a Coke.” Bob faced her again. “So, how are you?”

“OK, I guess. Kind of had a fight with my roommate before I left.”

“That doesn’t matter. Say, you look great.”

She blushed. “Thanks.”

“Do you think you would’ve ever gone out dressed like that before you met me?”

Cathy looked down at herself. Her boobs, lifted by the tank top, thrust up and out at Bob. She was sitting cross-legged to keep from exposing herself. “No, I guess not. That doesn’t prove anything, though.”

“If you say so.” He touched her hand and Cathy trembled inside. Her heart pounded in her chest, and for the first time she realized how much she wanted Bob to fuck her. “Catherine, every guy in this bar is looking at you. How does that make you feel?”

A pause. “Pretty good. I like being sexy.”

“Anything else?”

She hated to admit it, but she had to. “Horny.”

His hand dropped to her thigh, and she closed her eyes. She leaned forward and rested her head against his shoulder while he massaged her. “Cathy, do you want me?”

“Yes. Please.” She reached for his crotch and felt a nice erection.

“How bad?”

Bad enough that she was probably going to leave a wet spot on the barstool. “Bob, please, take me home.”

“I don’t think so.” Cathy sat up and looked at him. Surprise, disappointment, and lust were all in her expression. “See that guy at the end of the bar?” Bob asked.

She turned. A slightly pudgy, middle-aged, rather forlorn fellow was staring glumly at the bottom of an empty beer mug. He looked very lonely. Cathy was confused. “Who is he?”

“I have no idea. You’re going to give him a blow job, though, and you’re going to swallow his cum.”

She opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Bob, please, I can’t....”

He put his finger to her lips. “Cathy, look at me.” She did, lip trembling. He spoke in a voice so low she could barely hear it above the background noise of the bar. “You’re a slut now. You’re a nympho slut who does what you’re told. You’re going to suck that guy off, and you’re going to enjoy it.”

It was like he was staring into her soul. With an effort of will, she tore her eyes away from Bob and looked over his shoulder, across the dance floor, to the front door of the club. It was open. Her car was parked across the street. She could be on her way home in two minutes. She looked Bob in the eye again, hopped off the bar stool, and walked over to the pudgy fellow.

“Hi”, she said.

He looked up at her in surprise, startled out of his thoughts. Then he looked her over, and his surprise deepened. “Hello.”

“What’s your name?”

“Mike.”

She took his hand and smiled sweetly. “Follow me, Mike.” Mutely he followed as she led him across the dance area, hips rolling seductively, towards the men’s room.

They entered together. Two men who appeared to know each other were talking quietly by the sinks. They looked at Cathy with more than a little bit of surprise, and then continued their conversation.

A stall opened up. After a short pause, one of the two men looked at Mike and said “All yours, dude.”

Cathy smiled at Mike again and led him into the stall, as the two men watched curiously. She closed the door, kissed him lightly on the lips, and then gently pushed him down onto the toilet seat.

Mike looked stunned. Then he looked suspicious. “How much is this going to cost me?”

She put a finger to his lips. “Nothing. This is your lucky day.” Then she unzipped his pants, pulled out his erect cock—a little on the small side, he was—and took it into her lips.

At least he was clean. Cathy took her time, licking and sucking his shaft slowly and gently, her hands grasping his waist, her knees resting on the cold tiles of the floor. She focused herself on the task at hand, bobbing up and down on Mike’s pulsing prick. She let his tip off to lick his shaft up and down the sides. She took his balls in hand and caressed them, delicately rolling them between her fingers. Cathy swallowed his tip again, swirling her tongue around the sensitive ridge, and then sucking gently on the tip like she might a straw. She was rewarded with a drop of precum, which she wiped off with one flick of the tongue.

A voice, from the outside. “Hey, are you guys ready to go? Those girls want to leave.”

Another voice, which she recognized from before. “Dude, wait a second. Some chick in the middle stall is blowing a guy!”

“Really?”

“Listen. No, take a look instead.”

Cathy heard a soft grunt and a jingle—keys?—and knew the third man was looking under the door of the stall. “Holy shit! Hey, way to go man!”

She cringed with humiliation, but she did not stop. Rather, she picked up her pace, slurping up and down his shaft, sucking for all she was worth. She could tell by his quiet moans that his arousal was building, and now hers was too. She wondered if Bob would fuck her afterwards.

Her audience kept silent as she pleasured the stranger before her. She was very aware of her heavy tits, which had finally popped out of her tube top and were rubbing against Mike’s pants. The rough feel of the fabric on her nipples was another source of stimulation.

Mike was tense, his hands gripping her shoulders tightly. “Oh God, I’m ready” he gasped. How polite, Cathy thought, just before he stiffened and his cum burst forth into her mouth. She swallowed for the first time in her life, gulping quickly, knowing she mustn’t miss a drop, and much to her surprise Cathy came too, a small but wonderful orgasm, and she whimpered, her face buried in Mike’s pubic hair, still nursing the last drops from his tasty prick.

He sat very still on the toilet seat, sucking in great gulps of air as she tenderly licked his cock clean. When she was satisfied with her work, she stood and managed to stuff her tits back into the tank top.

He looked up at her with a face full of stunned happiness. “Hey, what’s your name?”

She smiled again and said, “It doesn’t matter.” Then she leaned forward, kissed him on the forehead, and left.

Her contentment rapidly dissipated when she saw her audience, which was staring at her in awe and wonder. Two of the friends simply gaped. The third raised his hands and quietly applauded.

And by the door, there was Bob, who looked her in the face and winked.

She ran right past him, out the door, across the dance floor, and out the entrance to the club. She ran all the way to a streetlamp on the corner, which she leaned against for support as she burst into tears.

Then he was there, as she knew he would be. “Hello, Catherine.”

Between sobs she asked, “Why did you tell me to do that?”

“A test. And a demonstration, to show you what a whore you are, and what you’ll do for me.”

Cathy was calming down, slowly. “I’m not a whore.”

“Really? Did you like blowing that guy?”

She looked at the ground.

“Answer me.”

“Yes.”

“How much did you like it?”

In a small voice: “I climaxed.”

Bob’s eyebrow arched with mock surprise. “Really? Well, let’s see. You took a total stranger into the men’s room and gave him head, and you had an orgasm. What does that make you?”

No answer. Cathy was still staring at her feet when Bob’s sports car arrived. She couldn’t see the driver. “That’s my ride, honey. See you later.” He hopped in and left. Cathy felt scared, confused, and horny as hell during the drive home. She slipped quietly back into the apartment, threw herself on top of her bed, and masturbated to an intense orgasm. Then she fell asleep, still wearing her hooker outfit, with her skirt around her ankles.

The next day was a pretty bad one. Monica, usually a morning person, didn’t say two words to Cathy as they bumped around the place, getting ready for work. The tension hung thick in the air. It bothered her, to be sure, but she had more important things to worry about.

Like Bob. Cathy thought about him all day, even while she was giving clients rote answers on discount air fares to Phoenix and group rates on Hawaiian cruises. Her mind was filled with a million flickering thoughts. His mind-control shtick was nonsense, of course—it had to be—but Cathy could feel herself changing. She was horny all the time now. She was having wild, intense sex dreams at night, most of which costarred Bob, almost all of which featured her in submissive roles. Her days were a sort of waking dream in which she fantasized about serving him. Visions of bondage and fetish gear popped into her head and filled her with a trembling desire. She saw herself kneeling at his feet, reaching for his cock. Her panties were soaked before nine.

Cathy was imagining what it might be like if Bob bent her over a desk when her watch alarm beeped. Closing time, 5 p.m. That’s when she saw him outside the window, waiting. She shut her computer down, grabbed her purse, and went to him.

“Let’s go for a ride, Catherine.”

“But I have my car here.”

“C’mon, let’s go.”

Naturally, she did.

She hopped in the backseat of Bob’s car, and he followed. The driver was an attractive, petite blonde. “Hi Cathy, my name’s Barbara”, she said brightly. Barbara was lovely, with nice tits and a trim body that her T-shirt and jeans failed to conceal.

“Nice to meet you, Barbara.” Cathy turned to Bob with a questioning look. “Barbara’s a real estate agent, and my second slave. The personal ad was her idea.”

Barbara beamed with pride as she started the engine. “It worked, didn’t it? We got you! You’re gorgeous!” She continued to chatter as they pulled out of the mall’s parking lot.

“You’re really going to like it with us, Cathy. Bob is just wonderful. I think back on how disorganized and purposeless my life was before, and it scares me. I’m so happy now. Serving him will make you happier than you’ve ever dreamed.”

Cathy listened in silence, trying to absorb the surprising news that Bob had other women who apparently believed all this enslavement silliness. She wondered if she should be angry, and then decided there was no reason to be. After all, she wanted Bob to be happy, and if multiple women were what it took to make him happy, then so be it. Jealousy is pointless, she thought.

She regarded Bob, who was gazing out the window. He really was very handsome. Strange how she hadn’t recognized that from the beginning. Even beyond his physical beauty, his mere presence filled her with a warm peaceful feeling.

Cathy glanced down at his crotch. Bob was tenting his slacks. She felt a familiar hunger rising inside her, and she wondered what he tasted like. Barbara wouldn’t notice. She had to watch the road, after all. He looked so yummy!

Finally she could stand it no longer. “Bob, could I—”

“Sure, sexy, go right ahead.”

Eagerly, she unzipped him. His prick was of a normal size, but it was beautiful. Cathy almost cried with joy. She touched it gently, lovingly, and then swallowed it up.

This was nothing like the guy at the club. Cathy felt a dizzying rush of pleasure as she took Bob in her mouth. She moaned with delight as she twirled her tongue around his tip. He tasted wonderful! Time seemed to stop, and she spent forever slurping his darling prick. Cathy shoved her free hand down her pants and rubbed herself as she sucked Bob off. She came almost instantly, a strangled squeal escaping from her mouth, but she didn’t pause, sucking him even harder, eager for the reward she knew was to come.

Bob grabbed the hair from the back of her head and yanked hard, lifting her off his shaft. Cathy felt a pang of disappointment as his delicious cock slipped out of her mouth. Then she closed her eyes and was rewarded with hot spurts of cum on her face. She felt globs of spunk spraying all over her forehead, cheeks, and chin. Cathy smiled inwardly. She sure had done a good job! Who knew a facial would be so rewarding?

Bob grunted with his climax, then let her go and said, “You can clean yourself up now.”

Cathy got the compact out of her purse and regarded herself and her cum-splattered face. She grinned in satisfaction. She glanced up to see Barbara looking at her through the rear-view mirror. The sexy blonde pointed at Cathy’s face and said, “Can I have some?” Cathy scooped a glob off her cheek with two fingers, reached forward, and stuck it in Barbara’s mouth. Barbara managed to swallow greedily while keeping her eyes on the road. “God, I love tasting his cum,” Barbara sighed blissfully. Cathy licked Bob clean, then snuggled up against him the rest of the way, one hand on his lovely cock. She was very happy.

Barbara stopped the car in front of a modest but attractive house in suburbia. She walked ahead and opened the door for Bob and Cathy, who entered holding hands. Barbara locked the door behind her and then, much to Cathy’s surprise, stripped naked, leaving her clothes and underwear in a closet.

Cathy gave Barbara an appreciative look over. Bob’s second slave couldn’t have been more than 5′ 2″. Her breasts, full C-cups by the looks of them, looked even bigger on her small frame. Her pussy was shaved. Cathy felt her own pussy twitch with arousal.

From behind Bob whispered, “Why don’t you take your clothes off too, Catherine?” She eagerly undressed for him, and the two naked women followed the clothed man into the living room, where they found a third naked woman.

She looked up from the issue of U.S. News and World Report in her lap and smiled at them. “Hello! You must be Cathy. I’m Jennifer.” She stood up and shook Cathy’s hand.

Bob spoke up, his voice tinged with pride. “I met Jennifer at college when we took the same psychology course. She was my first conquest. Jennifer’s a licensed therapist now.”

Jennifer’s smile widened. “I like to help people.” She was about Cathy’s height. She had sleek legs and a fair complexion, and breasts that were about the same size as Cathy’s. Her hair was light brown and wavy, and her eyes were brown. She thrust her tits out at Cathy proudly. “What do you think? Bob had me get bigger ones last year.”

“They’re very nice,” Cathy answered politely. Inside she smiled, thinking that hers were real.

Jennifer reached out and touched Cathy’s tits, running her hands across them with obvious pleasure, tracing a finger down Cathy’s cleavage, lingering on her pointy nipples. “Yours are wonderful,” she said.

So they all talked for a while, and then Jennifer got dinner out of the oven and they sat down to eat. Between nibbles on her chicken, Cathy dared to ask a question. “Will there be any more of us, Bob?”

She feared he would be angry, but he wasn’t in the least. “One or two, I think. I’d like to have one more slave to be out earning a salary for me, and one to keep house and serve me while the rest are out at work. More than five is overkill, I think.” Bob speared a tomato slice. “Oh by the way, Catherine, on your lunch break tomorrow you need to go to the bank and put my name on all your accounts. We can move you out of your apartment on Friday.”

She was relieved. Too many women would mean fighting for his attention. Maybe, if she were lucky, she would be the one to stay home during the day and look after him.

Bob took a last swig of iced tea and rose from the table. Barbara and Jennifer stood also, as if on cue. “OK ladies, it’s time.”

“Time for what?” Cathy asked.

“Time for your initiation.”

Eagerly she jumped up. Bob took her hand and led her into the bedroom, with Jennifer and Barbara following. She was instantly wet at the thought of what was to come.

“Lay down on the bed,” he ordered.

She happily complied, her boobs bouncing as she landed on the mattress. Cathy spread her legs and watched as the girls reverently removed Bob’s clothes, revealing his stiff prick. Without further comment or foreplay, he climbed on the bed and entered her. Cathy gasped as he filled her eager cunt. This, she knew, is what she had been waiting for.

But that was not all. Jennifer snuggled up next to Cathy and began sucking her left breast. Barbara sucked her right while manually stroking Cathy’s clit. Occasionally the girls paused to kiss her, or each other, but they always returned to her oh-so-sensitive nipples.

She cruised on a wave of pleasure. Bob settled into a steady rhythm, pumping into and out of her steaming pussy, each thrust drawing a whimper from Cathy. Barbara rubbed her clit nonstop. The combination of Bob’s thrusting cock and Barbara’s probing fingers was like nothing she had ever felt in her whole life. Like nothing she had ever imagined. Orgasms came and went. She grunted and gasped, mind and body aflame. Cathy opened her eyes and saw Bob looking down at her, and her heart filled with love.

These thoughts were swept away by a shattering orgasm. Cathy thrashed, thighs flexing, back arched, hands clawing at the sheets. She let out a high-pitched squeal, then flopped back down on the bed, moaning.

Bob grunted and closed his eyes as his climax finally came. Cathy’s orgasmic bliss was amplified by the joy she felt from pleasing him.

Shortly thereafter, Jen and Barbara silently stole away. Cathy was alone in her lover’s arms, all aglow, a satisfied smile on her face. She reached down and felt his cock and wondered how long it would be before she could get him hard again and give him another blow job.

“Are you happy, Catherine?”

“Oh yes.” She inhaled deeply, enjoying his scent.

“Do you know now that you are my slave?”

The question surprised her. What should she say? Saying “no” would displease him, and she knew she mustn’t displease him. Would it harm anyone to play along, to pretend?

No.

Of course not.

As long as she was pretending.

“Yes, Master.”

“You can keep calling me Bob. You’re a good little bitch.”

She basked in the compliment, but then a troubling thought arrived. “Bob, what about my parents?”

“What about them? We’re all adults, and we aren’t doing anything illegal. Well, I guess I am,” he chuckled, “but I don’t think they’ll figure it out. Don’t worry; in a little while you won’t care about what your parents think. You just concentrate on being a good little slut.”

Yet she still worried. “What about Monica?”

“Your roommate? The photographer? Hm—she could be a problem. She knows about the ad, doesn’t she?”

“Yes, she does.”

“What does she look like again?”

“Korean. Petite. Attractive.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes, Monica’s beautiful.”

“Interesting.” Bob paused for a moment in consideration. “You know, I think your roommate and I need to have a talk.”