The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

1.

“We’re ready to proceed with the initiative, then?” Riker, the project director, asked summarily.

“Welsford, Ontario is the target zone,” said the angular, bespectacled man sitting at the head of the conference table. “Population 115,000. It’s large enough that we should receive a diverse range of manifestations, but small enough that conditions can be carefully monitored.” Everything was going to go perfectly. He knew it. Adam Sheppard had been planning this phase of the project for the past eighteen months. Twenty-seven potential target zones were whittled down to nine; nine to three; three to Welsford.

“Uncgh-hhgm!” The moustached man sitting on Sheppard’s left cleared his throat. “And we’re absolutely sure, and I mean positively sure, that the virus can’t be passed on after the initial installation. I mean, the last thing we want is for some imperfect form of Adonis with God-knows-what side-effects spreading all over the continent. Once that thing makes its way to an international airport we’ll be looking at a global pandemic in a matter of days.”

“I thought that was the idea,” said the younger red-haired man to Sheppard’s right. Almost everything Sam Specter ever said was dripping with sarcasm. At 28, he was the youngest person in the room. Sheppard sized him up the moment they first met. Specter was both petulant and ambitious; he was easily offended, and he talked far more than he should. Sheppard ignored him and responded to the moustache-man’s question: “No. The virus cannot be transmitted between human hosts after the initial installation. It is airborne, but once the virus is contracted a . . . well, a sort of transformation occurs. In short, we can give it to people, but they can’t give it to one another. Overcoming that obstacle is obviously one of our top priorities in the next round of testing.”

“Adam, all we need to know is that the virus is going to perform as predicted,” said Caroline Vye, from the opposite end of the long conference table. Her complexion was alabaster white, dark hair pulled back in a severe bun. All the chairs near her were unoccupied. Sheppard often tried to guess how old she was – thirty-five? forty-five? She had a way of staring right through you that was somehow both unsettling and comforting. It was as if she could penetrate your body with her eyes; it was like she knew every secret you ever kept. There was something strangely calming about that. When she looked at you like she did, head cocked to one side, eyes boring a hole in your head, there was no point in trying to lie to her, no point trying to hide anything. It was a relief really.

“Yes, of course, Miss Vye. As I pointed out in my report, Patient Zero has exhibited all expected psychological and physiological transformations. He’s . . . um . . . well, he’s far exceeded our expectations, to be honest. His average first-contact-to-copulation time is now under seven minutes. Naturally he’s had time to develop his abilities. Newly infected hosts won’t be nearly that efficient, but, given time . . .

“Further, No female test subject has posed any problem whatsoever. Patient Zero has successfully seduced over 120 women, ranging in age from forty-eight to . . . um . . . eighteen. Race and age are non-factors. Even language isn’t an issue. Just last week one of our francophone recruits was subjected to Patient Zero and seduction took place in under three minutes.

“Now, the men of Welsford won’t be as gifted initially. Oh, and of course some of them won’t be gifted at all. As I mentioned, one of the particular quirks of this strain of Adonis is that it can’t survive in every masculine host. (We’re working on that). Certain physiologies accommodate the virus; other’s don’t.”

“Very good, Adam,” said Caroline. “I’m satisfied.”

Looking around the room, Adam saw only smiling and head-nodding.

“Let’s get this thing started,” said Riker.

2.

Dave Morgan stepped out of the elevator and walked down the hall. Today was going to be the worst day of his life. It seemed like only yesterday when his wife, Amanda, walked in on him fucking the neighbours’ nineteen-year-old daughter, Becky. Amanda was supposed to be at her sister’s until well after dinner, but the two women got into an argument. Amanda stormed out and consequently arrived home five hours early. Dave counted it as yet another reason to hate his bitch sister-in-law.

Amanda wasted no time filing for divorce. In reality, things had been going downhill for over two years. When his wife came home to find Dave’s dick pistoning in and out of the bleached-blonde he had bent over the kitchen table, it was like she had won the lottery. It was just the opportunity Amanda had been looking for. Not only could she leave him, but she could claim to be the wronged party. She was the faithful wife; he was the lecherous, ungrateful husband. Never mind that she hadn’t touched him sexually in almost a year. She practically drove him right into that teenage pussy. Frigid bitch.

He thought about making the case that Amanda had defaulted on her wifely duties – a year since they last fucked, longer since she had taken his dick in her mouth. Somehow he didn’t think that argument would fly in court. Dave turned the corner and headed towards the offices of Manly, Clemens, and Weis. That’s where he was going to meet his wife and her lawyer.

Her lawyer. That was the ultimate indignity. He had to hand it to Amanda: she had decided she was going to hurt him. Really, really hurt him. So she sought out a very particular divorce attorney, one Britney O’Brien.

Britney had been Dave’s college sweetheart. They dated through most of his four years in college and after graduation they even got engaged. Things ended when Britney came home from work a little early one day and found Dave fucking her sister, Sandy . . . on the kitchen table. Obviously, she broke up with him. It was a bad one. Dave had always felt tremendous regret. He loved Britney dearly. He never meant to hurt her. (It’s just that her sister was a gigantic slut with a correspondingly gigantic rack.) Amanda had always accused Dave of still being in love with Britney, and though he never admitted it to his wife, he knew deep down she was right. He never got over Britney. Amanda was just a band-aid, a five-year band-aid. But that was over now.

As he stepped into the offices of Manly, Clemens, and Weis, the receptionist directed him to a conference room down the hall. His own lawyer, Larry, was supposed to be there waiting for him. He opened the door. Larry was sitting on one side of the table. Amanda and Britney were on the other side. Amanda was dressed to kill: a blue top that showed off her ample cleavage, a black skirt that rode high up her thighs. Her dark brown hair fell down past her shoulders in waves. A quick glance at her brown eyes and Dave could see how determined she was to make him suffer.

But it was the sight of Britney that made his heart skip a beat. Dave hadn’t seen Britney in years, and if he didn’t know better, he would have guessed that she too had dressed specifically to impress him. She looked incredible. Had her tits always been that big? Her blonde hair was longer than it used to be, but her green eyes were exactly the same.

“Sit down David,” Britney said. “Let’s get this over with.”

3.

“How in the fuck did I get here?” thought Marshall Avery, as he massaged the bra-covered breast of Kristy Summers, the hottest girl he had ever seen in real life.

It was Tuesday. Marshall’s last period of the day was Chemistry and he had spent that class exactly the same way he always did: staring at Kristy Summers. Kristy was an ‘A’ student. She was the Secretary on the student council. She was a teachers pet, and she was also a rocket-hot blonde with a killer rack. Kristy was always immaculately dressed in the most expensive preppy couture. On this particular Tuesday she was wearing a khaki skirt and a tight-fitting, pink, v-neck sweater. The cashmere v-neck was particularly sinister as it so emphatically emphasized Kristy’s legendary D-cups – two of the biggest reasons why she was the one of the most popular girls in school.

Kristy was the kind of girl you couldn’t take your eyes off of. She had long, blonde hair, blue eyes, D-cup tits, D-cup tits, and D-cup tits. Though she had a steady boyfriend (Greg McAllister, captain of the basketball team) Marshall always suspected that Kristy actively and not-so-subtly solicited the attention of the other boys in school. Her skirts were always a bit too short to be innocent. She routinely seemed to wear shirts and sweaters that were a size too small. It was for these reasons that every Tuesday afternoon, in Chemistry, Kristy had Marshall’s undivided attention – not that she ever noticed. Marshall was a plebeian at Welsford High. No sports, no student council, no cheerleader girlfriend. He was just one of the herd. Kristy was high school royalty; she never even deigned to look in Marshall’s direction. Until today.

Marshall was staring at Kristy like he always did, watching as she twirled her hair around her finger, or chewed on the end of her pencil. He watched her cross and uncross her legs. And of course he gazed reverently as she yawned and stretched, raising her arms high in the air and thrusting her tits forward, testing the tensile strength of her already impossibly tight cashmere sweater. He must have been completely hypnotized by her breasts, because by the time Marshall looked back at Kristy’s face, she was staring back at him.

Marshall’s face turned beat-red. He immediately buried his nose in his Chemistry book, totally mortified. She had caught him red-handed. He tried to keep his eyes off of Kristy for the rest of class, but of course that was a losing battle. He couldn’t help trying to sneak another peek at Kristy’s chest. But the next time he looked in her direction, Kristy was staring right back at him.

“Great, she’s probably going to chew me out after class,” Marshall thought. “Maybe she’ll get Greg to kick my ass.”

But over the course of the period, Marshall began to notice Kristy behaving strangely. She kept looking at him, and yet she didn’t look angry. And her body language was peculiar. She was biting her bottom lip. She was crossing and uncrossing her legs every few seconds, and . . . she was sitting straight up (oddly straight, really) with her shoulders back, and those tits thrust out . . .

After class ended Kristy walked up to Marshall and instead of chewing him out, she was taking him by the hand and inviting him over to her house after school . . .

And that’s how the fuck Marshall found himself here, in Kristy Summers bedroom, making out with the hottest girl in school. Kristy tore her sweater off almost as soon as Marshall set foot in her room. Staring at her lacy white bra and the two glorious mounds of female flesh it contained, Marshall’s dick instantly got harder than it had ever been.

Kristy practically tackled Marshall onto the bed, pressing her tits against his chest and shoving her tongue down his throat. By the time Marshall had a chance to collect his thoughts, Kristy Summers was straddling him, her khaki skirt riding high on her hips. She began kissing down his neck as he reached down and grabbed hold of her firm ass with both hands. “Wait …” Marshall thought, running his hands over her ass and thighs, “Oh … my … God … she’s not wearing any underwear!”

Kristy was grinding into his crotch now, and periodically sucking on Marshall’s tongue as if she needed it to live. If Marshall didn’t take control of the pace here, he was going to explode in his pants. He grabbed Kristy by her hips, lifted her off of him and rolled her onto her back. He was now lying in between her wide-spread legs. Kristy’s chest was heaving and her skirt was rolled up around her waist, her soaking wet, clean-shaven pussy now in clear view.

“I love the way you look at me,” Kristy said, breathlessly. “You look at me like you just want to take me and tear my clothes off and fuck me!”

Hearing the words “fuck me” coming out of Kristy Summer’s mouth nearly drove Marshall over the edge. He began ripping off his clothes, pulling his shirt over his head, unbuckling his belt, and unzipping his fly. In nine seconds Marshall was completely naked, his erect cock only inches from Kristy’s hot snatch.

“Marshall,” Kristy said sweetly as she reached behind her back. “Talk dirty to me.” As Kristy said those words she unclasped her bra; her breasts were finally freed from their lacy confines. Marshall’s jaw-dropped as he stared at Kristy’s tits. They were ten times better than he had imagined in his best jerk-off fantasy.

“What do you want me to say?” Marshall somehow managed to ask.

“Um, like, tell me . . . um, tell me . . . tell me I’m a slut,” Britney said, excitedly. At that moment, staring at Kristy Summers unbelievable tits, Marshall would have swallowed his own shoe if Kristy had asked him to, so he complied with her curious request, declaring instantly and emphatically: “you’re such a fucking hot slut!”

“Unnggghhhh!” Kristy groaned as she heard Marshall degrade her. She couldn’t help but reach between her legs, her fingers finding their way towards her exposed clit. “Say . . . unh! . . . say it again”

“You’re a Slut!”

“Unnnnhhhhuhhhh!”

“Slut!” Marshall said again, surprised by how much Britney seemed to get off on his dirty talk. He wouldn’t have guessed in a million years.

“Hhnnngggnnnn! Yes! Yeah! Tell me what a whore I am!” By now Kristy was rubbing her pussy furiously, getting off on Marshall’s insults.

Watching the teenage sexpot writhing beneath him triggered something in Marshall. He let loose with an onslaught of insults intended to drive Kristy crazy. “You’re a fucking whore! You’re nothing but a cock-hungry whore, and I’ve known it all along. I see it when I stare at you in Chemistry. I can tell you’re not paying attention in class. All you’re thinking about is dick. Isn’t that right Kristy? Who the hell are you trying to kid, anyway? Do you think anyone at school actually thinks of you as anything more than a tight pussy and a great pair of tits?”

“Yes! Yes! Fuck! YES! UNGHHHHH! UNNGGHHH! YESSS!” Kristy brought herself to orgasm listening to Marshall’s verbal assault. Marshall was taking this opportunity to run his hands all over Kristy’s body, concentrating mostly on her breasts, but watching the super-fuckable body of his dream girl spasm beneath him was more than he could take. He took hold of his cock and guided it towards Britney’s pussy.

“You want this cock don’t you?” Marshall asked, gripping his member.

“Fuck, yeah. Give it to me! Fuck me with your cock!”

“Why do you want it so bad?”

“Because!” Kristy was still vigorously playing with her clit.

“Because why?”

“Ungh! Bec . . . Because I’m a slut,” Kristy abruptly stopped pleasuring herself, pausing she became surprisingly reflective. She stared off into space as if she’d just achieved a new level of self-knowledge. “I have a boyfriend and I’m still here on my back, fingering myself, and begging for your cock. Fuck, I’m such a horny little slut! All I want is cock; all I want is your cock,” Kristy said. She reached for the drawer on her nightstand. She pulled out a condom and handed it to Marshall, “Please Marshall, please make me cum all over your dick. You can fuck me any way you want to, just treat me like a slut. Fuck me like I deserve it!”

Marshall tore open the condom and put it on. He wasted no time shoving his now throbbing member into Kristy’s waiting pussy. Marshall wasn’t a virgin; he’d had sex with two girls before, but neither of those girls compared to Kristy. Her pussy was like a hot, wet vice. As he thrust deep inside of her, Kristy let out a small whimper. Marshall could feel the walls of her vagina spasm, indicating a minor orgasm.

Kristy’s eyes rolled back in her head, both hands clutched the sheets of her bed as Marshall began pumping in and out of her.

“I love . . . your cock. Love . . . ungh . . . cock . . . omigawhd . . . I love your cock. I love your cock. I love your . . . oh . . . your . . . OH! . . . FUCK! FUCK! I’m gonna cum! Gonna cum! Gonna Cummmmm! OOHHHMMMYGAAAWWWDDD!” Kristy’s entire body tensed up as she was rocked by yet another orgasm.

Marshall was in heaven. His cock was buried to the hilt in Kristy Summer’s pussy. The hottest girl in school, the homecoming queen, little miss perfect was writhing beneath him, screaming and moaning in pleasure as he made her cum. He was mad with lust.

“I’m going to teach you what you’re good for, slut. On your back, taking a dick, that’s what your good for!”

In response Kristy wrapped her legs around Marshall’s torso, pulling him deeper inside of her. She reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling his body on top of hers. She kissed him at first, but then positioned her head next to his so that she could whisper in his ear as he fucked her.

“Give it to me Marshall. I’m a little fucking slut and I need it. I need a big strong man to put me in my place. Fuck! Unggggh! Yeah, that’s it baby . . . oh . . . unh! . . . Keep . . . Keep fucking me with that cock. Give it to me harder! Harder Marshall! Treat me like your little slut. Cum for me. Cum in me. Yes . . . yes . . . yes . . . yes! YES! YES! YES!YES!YES!YES! MAAARRSSSHHAAALLLL!”

As Kristy screamed his name, Marshall finally came. He exploded inside of her. The feel of her legs wrapped around him, her tits pressed tightly against his chest, coupled with her submissive-slut whisperings in his ear set him off. He continued pounding into her through his orgasm, feeling load after load of hot cum flow from his impossibly hard cock.

After he came, Kristy pulled him tightly against her body. Her eyes were closed; there was a huge smile on her face. She kissed his cheek, his neck, his shoulder and his forehead, saying “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” over and over again.

4.

“Fuck.” Dave thought to himself as he arrived back at his car. Amanda and Britney had just cut off his balls and eaten them for lunch. He was going to lose everything: the house, the boat, his grandfather’s cabin. Larry, his lawyer, was slightly less useful than block of wood: he’d hardly said two words while Britney demanded more property, more money, more everything. Dave’s ex-wife, Amanda, just sat there staring at him with a vindictive smirk on her face. “Fucking bitch,” Dave whispered to himself as he got in his car and buckled his seatbelt.

The thing that infuriated him most of all though, more than anything, was that he wasn’t even able to stand up for himself. He couldn’t even speak because he was so completely transfixed by Britney throughout the entire session. The only consolation he took from the whole process was that Amanda had to have noticed him staring. His ex-wife was the jealous type; she must have seen him staring at her lawyer through the entire meeting. He hoped that it stung. Her plan to hurt him by hiring Britney, his ex-girlfriend, had backfired; she had to sit there for two hours and watch while he drooled over the hot blonde sitting next to her.

But good God Britney looked incredible. Beautiful green eyes, perfect skin, and thick, pink, dick-sucking lips. And that hair. It was much longer than it had been in college. While Britney was castrating him financially, he couldn’t help imagining running his hands through it. He daydreamed, pictured her naked, straddling him, her tits bouncing up and down as she rode on top of his rock-hard cock. He imagined her tossing her hair from side to side as she came, screaming his name. He thought about what it would feel like to fuck her from behind like he used to in college, only now he could hold onto that hair as he pounded her (she always did like it a little rough). His hands tangled in her hair, pulling her head back as he filled her pussy with load after load of semen.

He shook his head, and turned on the ignition. Fantasizing about Britney had given him a raging hard-on. What was he going to do about that? More importantly, what the fuck was he going to do about his life? “Fuck, Amanda! Fuck! Fucking Bitch!” He pulled out of the parking lot horny and angry.

5.

Tom Warrick was 29 and single. He had spent the past six months working for LTI, a communications company in Welsford. LTI had recruited him from his old job in Toronto. Tom had never been to Welsford, but LTI offered him a healthy raise and an opportunity to climb the corporate ladder, so he took it.

Tom was good at what he did. He was bright, and relatively creative. He had a strong work ethic and a head for business. He would have described himself as slightly above average in most categories – brains, looks, sense of humour, sexual prowess, physical fitness, financial well-being. In just about every respect, Tom thought, he was slightly ahead of the curve, and that was good enough for him most of the time.

However, for at least one moment every weekday, Tom felt woefully inadequate. Every morning, when he arrived at the office and had to walk by the desk of his secretary, Jenna Peters, Tom felt like a loser. Jenna wasn’t just his secretary; she belonged to his module. He shared her with two of LTI’s other junior executives (Ross and Carter). But she was his secretary, and she was gorgeous in that “people-shouldn’t-be-allowed-to-look-that-good” kind of way. Long, red hair, porcelain white skin, great legs, and a better ass, Tom had an immense crush on her and (appropriate workplace conduct aside) he barely had the guts to say two words to her. Seeing Jenna as he walked into the office every morning made Tom feel terribly insecure.

It didn’t help matters that Jenna was a complete bitch. She hated Tom. At first he thought it was just because he was the new guy. “She’ll warm up to me eventually,” Tom thought, but she never did. If anything, she seemed to like him less as time went by. He couldn’t really understand it. He was always polite to her. He tried his best to treat her like a co-worker, not a subordinate. She didn’t seem to have a problem with either of the other two junior executives, Ross and Carter. With Ross and Carter, Jenna was the definition of dutiful. She was diligent and courteous. She anticipated tasks before they were given to her. She was even a bit flirtatious, with all the giggling and arm-touching.

With Tom it was a completely different story. Whenever he asked her to do anything she acted like it was a burden. She often tried to tell him the tasks he assigned her were not in her job description (even though they were). Every time he talked to her she gave him the kind of withering look he imagined she would give to some dip-shit trying to pick her up in a club. After awhile that’s how Tom felt. He felt as if he was constantly trying to impress Jenna, always thinking of ways to try and make her like him.

Jenna was the only person that made Tom feel like a loser and this particular Tuesday was no different. When Tom arrived to work in the morning he walked past Jenna’s desk and offered up a cheery “Good morning!” Jenna looked up from her computer for half an instant and gave Tom approximately one-third of a smile. She didn’t say a word. Tom slouched past her, unlocked his office door and tried to disappear from sight as quickly as possible.

What was it about this woman? Why did she make him feel so completely inadequate? He had friends. He wasn’t a social retard. He’d had his fair share of women too. He shook his head as he ran through a mental list of his conquests. None of his former girlfriends were even half as hot as Jenna. And even though he hated to admit it to himself, the fact that she appeared to want absolutely nothing to do with him made his secretary that much more attractive to him.

Jenna had become the feature star of Tom’s nightly masturbation fantasies. Every night before bed (sometimes twice before bed) he would picture her. Sometimes he imagined her showing up to work in an especially slutty outfit. He would have to call her into his office to discuss appropriate office attire. “Oh, Mr. Warrick,” she’d whimper “I’m so, so sorry, it’s just that I . . . I wanted to look nice for you.” Then a seductive smile. It wouldn’t be long before a topless image of Jenna was on her knees under Tom’s desk, sucking his dick and swallowing his cum. In other fantasies they were having a secret affair, fucking like rabbits in the backseat of Tom’s car after work. His favourite, of course, was sex on the desk. Sometimes it was his desk. Sometimes it was her desk. Sometimes she was sitting on the edge of the desk, her legs spread wide as he thrust in and out of her. Her head back, red hair swinging back and forth as she screamed out in impossibly loud orgasms. At other times he just forced her face down on her desk, bent her body in half, tore off her panties, and fucked her doggie style.

Tom was sitting at his desk, running through just such a fantasy when Jenna suddenly opened his door and strutted into his office.

She never knocked.

Tom straightened up quickly and pulled his chair closer to his desk, making sure that Jenna couldn’t see his raging erection. “She always just barges in whenever the hell she feels like it” he thought to himself.

“Here’s the Olsen Corp. file you asked for yesterday.” Jenna said, dropping the file on his desk. She was on her way out of his office before Tom even had a chance to reply.

“Hey, thanks Jenna. Really, thanks a lot,” Tom said, picking up the file.

“Uhh, Jenna?” Tom said.

“What?”

“This is only the 2006 file. I need 2006 and 2007. Could you bring me the other one?”

Jenna sighed, turned and continued out of the office without a word. Tom took the opportunity to stare at the red-head’s perfectly formed ass. He watched as it oscillated back and forth, watched as it . . . stopped. Tom quickly looked upwards to see Jenna looking back over her shoulder. Surely she had seen him staring at her. She turned towards him slightly, her mouth open. He tensed up, thinking of the sexual harassment suit that was surely coming his way. But then her look softened, and her eyes met his for an instant before she finally turned and walked out of his office.

Tom couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. He leaned back in his chair and said a quick prayer of thanks. She must not have seen him, or if she did she didn’t care. Tom glanced down at his lap. His erection was still painfully obvious. He tried to think unsexy thoughts, but it didn’t work. The more he tried not to think about Jenna the more he thought about her. Jenna naked. Jenna straddling him in his office chair. Jenna in stockings in garters. Cumming on Jenna’s tits. Jenna in a naughty schoolgirl uniform. Jenna in a thong. Jenna. Jenna. Jenna.

Five minutes later there was a knock at Tom’s door.

“Uh, come in.”

Jenna stepped back into his office and closed the door behind her. She walked purposefully towards his desk with the other half of the Olsen file in her hand. Was that button on her blouse undone the last time she was in here?

“I found the 2007 file,” Jenna said smiling. Smiling? “Is there anything else you need Mr. Warrick?”

“Uhh . . .” Tom was dumbfounded. “Uhmm . . . I don’t think so.”

“You’re sure?” Jenna placed the palms of her hands on the top of Tom’s desk and looked absent-mindedly around his office. From this perspective Tom had a fantastic view of Jenna’s cleavage.”

“No. No. I think I’m fine.”

Jenna stood up, put her hands on her hips and began walking casually around Tom’s desk. She surveyed the office as if she’d never been there before. She took one long look at the closed door, as if trying to make up her mind about something, before she ultimately stepped behind Tom’s desk and stood next to his chair.

“Mr. Warrick,” Jenna said, turning Tom’s office chair to face her. “I saw you staring at my ass.”

“No! Jenna! Look, I’m sorry . . . I mean! I wasn’t . . .”

“No, Mr. Warrick. I understand. I have a great ass. I understand why you’d want to look at it. I appreciate the compliment.”

Tom was speechless.

“I can’t help noticing, Mr. Warrick, that you seem to be pretty hard down there.”

“Uh! Look, I just . . .”

“No, no, no, Mr. Warrick, look, it’s okay,” Jenna said, dropping to her knees and putting a reassuring hand on Tom’s arm. Tom was breathing heavily now, he was paralyzed by the sight of Jenna kneeling on the floor in front of him.

“Listen, Jenna, Ross or Carter might come in here and . . .”

“They’re both at the infrastructure meeting. They’ll be downtown until after lunch.”

“Oh.”

“Mr. Warrick? Why don’t you just let me take care of that for you?” Jenna was staring at the bulge in Tom’s pants. Tom had never been so hard in his life.

“Wh . . . What?” he said in disbelief.

Jenna reached for Tom’s zipper. Before Tom could even think she had his fly open and was fishing his cock out of his underwear. Jenna’s eyes opened wide as she saw Tom’s cock for the first time. “Just let me take care of this for you, Mr. Warrick. You just sit back and I’ll do all the work. It’s the least that I can do. After all, it’s my fault you’re so uncomfortable.”

Tom could barely speak as a scenario a million times better than any of his fantasies played out before him. “You’re fault?” he managed to gasp.

“Well, it was my ass, and probably my tits too that got you all worked up. It’s only fair if I get you off, right?”

“Yeah. That sounds right,” Tom said, finally realizing that his secretary was actually on her knees in front of him with his dick in her hand.”

“You might even say that it’s my job,” Jenna pondered as she began pumping her fist slowly up and down on Tom’s cock.

“Yes . . . oh! Yes, your job. It’s your job (God that feels good!).”

“That’s right; it’s my job to suck your cock, isn’t it Mr. Warrick?” Jenna said, lightly licking the tip of Tom’s cock.

“Oh god, yes!”

“And if it’s my job, you should tell me to do it. You are my boss after all, right? Why don’t you tell me to suck your cock, Mr. Warrick?”

Tom couldn’t take any more talking. In response to Jenna’s question, he put his hand on the back of Jenna’s head and forced her down on to his cock. “Suck it! Suck my cock, Jenna.”

Jenna moaned gleefully as her Tom’s cock penetrated her mouth. She seemed to take some pleasure in being bossed around, being told to service her superior. Jenna’s technique was incredible. She had either sucked a lot of cock in her young life, or she was just a natural. At the moment Tom didn’t care how she got so good; he was just glad to be the beneficiary.

His red-headed secretary pulled his dick out of her mouth for a moment. She looked him in the eye as she worked his cock in her fist. “Am I doing a good job, Mr. Warrick? Is there anything I could be doing better?” She gave Tom’s penis a playful lick as she questioned him.

“Just get back to work, Jenna.” Tom said forcefully.

Jenna’s eyes widened with excited lust. “Yes sir!” she said, enthusiastically.

Tom gloried in his newfound power over his secretary. He watched as she swallowed his dick whole, worshipping his cock with total, slut-like devotion. He couldn’t help himself. All the things he ever imagined saying to a woman while he jerked off in bed started coming out of his mouth: “Yeah. Suck that cock, you little slut!” Jenna looked up at him with lust-filled eyes. “That’s right, slut. You look me in the eye. You look me in the eye while I fuck your face. You like this don’t you? You like having my cock in your mouth. Tell me how much you love suck my cock.”

“Ighh Lloughvve Sucgghking Yhhorgh Coggckhh” Jenna mumbled while trying to drive Tom’s rigid member still deeper down her throat. She bobbed up and down on his tool hungrily, and even though she was clearly delirious with lust she never lost control. She was completely focussed on the task at hand, concentrating intently on Tom’s pleasure. It was as if getting him to cum was her new purpose in life.

Tom couldn’t remember the last time his dick felt so good. He leaned back in his office chair and watched the red-headed secretary service him. He loved the sight of this uppity bitch on her knees with her lips wrapped around his cock. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and began forcing her mouth up and down on his cock at a quicker pace. “Fuck, yes,” he gasped. “This is right where you belong, Jenna, on your knees with my cock in your mouth.”

“Mmmmgghh hhhmmmm” Jenna moaned in response.

“You should have been doing this from the moment I stepped into this office. What the fuck took you so long, slut? I’ve been working here for six fuck … (oh fuck that feels good) … six fucking months and it took you that long to . . . ugh . . . get down on your knees . . . what the fuck took you so long, bitch?”

“Mmmiiimmm Sssrghhy.”

“What did you say?

Jenna moved as if to stop sucking Tom’s cock so she could speak more clearly.

“No! Don’t take my dick out of your mouth! Just repeat yourself.”

“MIII’mmgghmmm Sogghrrry”

This was too good to be true. Tom couldn’t believe what he was hearing and he wanted to be certain. With great strength of will he pulled Jenna off his cock by her hair. She looked like she’d just been physically wounded. “Say that to me again.”

“I’m sorry,” Jenna said, panting, never taking her eyes off of Tom’s cock.

Tom gave her hair a sharp tug. “Look me in the eye and say that.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Warrick. I’m sorry I haven’t been sucking your cock. I know that I should have been. I know that’s all I’m good for. I’ll make it up to you. I promise! Every morning! I’ll be here on my knees waiting for you, just please . . .”

“Please what?”

“Please put your cock back in my mouth.”

“That’s a good little slut. You can get back to work now.”

Jenna took Tom back into her mouth with a renewed sense of purpose. She began to deepthroat him. Tom watched as his secretary devoured him like a porn star. “Good slut,” Tom moaned as he grabbed Jenna’s head in both of his hands. “Take it. Take that cock.” Jenna held her head still as Tom thrust in and out of her mouth. He could feel the tip of his dick pressing against the back of his secretary’s throat; he could feel his balls tightening. He was going to cum any moment now. He pulled Jenna off of him by her hair, holding her face just inches from his dick. She didn’t miss a beat; pumping up and down on his cock with her fist, she drove him towards orgasm. She kept her mouth wide open as he erupted. The first load of semen sprayed across Jenna’s face, from her forehead to her bottom lip. The next landed directly on her tongue. She began to swallow as much as she could, but Tom’s orgasm was never ending. Shot after shot of hot cum cascaded over her lips, her nose, her cheeks. When Tom was finally finished, Jenna carefully collected the semen from her face, using her tongue and fingers to redirect any errant strands of spunk into her mouth. She salivated over every drop.

After she was finished, she placed Tom’s dick back in his pants, zipped up his fly and got up off her knees. “Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?” she asked.

6.

Dave was making a big mistake. He knew this. It was a horrible plan. He was still furious after his meeting with his ex-wife, Amanda, and their respective lawyers. It was especially irksome that his wife had chosen Britney O’Brien, Dave’s college sweetheart, as her representation. It pissed him off to no end, and he wanted to give his bitch wife a piece of his mind. But that’s not what he was doing. Instead he had returned to the law offices of Manly, Clemens, and Weis. He was here to confront Britney.

He wasn’t sure why Britney had become the object of his rage. Why was he more upset with Britney than he was with his wife? He couldn’t quite articulate the decision process which had led him back to the parking lot of the office building in which Manly, Clemens, and Weis was housed. He couldn’t describe what it was that was going through his mind as he entered the lobby, got on an elevator and pressed the button for the 15th floor. If you asked him, he wouldn’t be able to tell you what motivated him to storm down the hall, march past Britney’s secretary, and barge into his ex-girlfriend’s office without knocking.

But here he was.

“Britney!”

“David? What the hell are you doing here?” Britney rose up from behind her desk.

“Who the hell do you think you are!?”

Britney’s secretary followed Dave into the office. “I’m so sorry Ms. O’Brien; he just walked right past me. I tried to stop him but . . .”

“It’s fine Janet” Britney said, never taking her eyes off of Dave. “I’ll handle it.”

Janet the secretary tip-toed out of the office, closing the door behind her just as Dave renewed his assault: “How could you do this to me? What kind of person are you? Do you have any decency, even a shred of integrity? I don’t see you for six years and then you show up just in time to represent my ex-wife!”

“She came to me!”

“Of course she came to you!” David returned. “She was trying to hurt me! Of course she came to you! What did you think? Did you not think for an instant that maybe you shouldn’t get involved?”

“David, don’t blame me for your mistakes. It’s not my fault you’re getting a divorce. In fact, as Amanda explained it to me, the whole thing sounded eerily familiar. Some young big-breasted bimbo bent over a kitchen table. Seriously, David? A nineteen-year-old?”

“Okay! Here it comes! This is what this is all about, isn’t it? You’re still pissed at me because I fucked your sister. So this is your opportunity for revenge.”

“Of course I’m still pissed at you for fucking my sister!” Britney was starting to feel angry herself; she could feel her heart pounding.

“So you’re out for revenge!”

“This has nothing to do with me, David, nothing to do with us!”

“It has everything to do with us! Why do you think Amanda hired you? Because she’s convinced I’m still in love with you and she wanted to hurt me as much as she possibly could.”

“Still in love with me!?” Britney’s breathing quickened. “What do you mean still in love with me!?”

For the first time since Dave entered Britney’s office, neither of them said anything. They looked at each other. Britney was a mass of emotions. Before this morning the very thought of David had repulsed her. Her opinion of him was further lowered when she heard of his most recent infidelity with the bleach-blonde neighbour girl. He was a pig. He was a chauvinist and a misogynist. But still, there was something about the way he looked at her. She had trouble concentrating during their meeting earlier. She tried to avoid meeting his eyes, focussing her attention on his incompetent lawyer instead. But she was always conscious of her ex-lover’s gaze. She could practically feel him undressing her with his eyes. She had spent the rest of the day trying to get David’s penetrating stare out of her mind, but it was impossible. All morning; all through lunch; all afternoon; right up until just before David came into her office, Britney kept thinking about the way David had been looking at her, and the way David looked, and the way he used to . . . Memories gave way to curiosity, and curiosity gave way to fantasy.

After what seemed like an eternity, Dave broke the silence. “Bitch,” he said, verbally slapping his ex in the face.

Britney trembled slightly when he said the word. “What did you call me?” she asked, her voice not much more than a whisper.

“I called you a bitch, Britney! You’re no different than a whore. You’re prostituting yourself out to anyone who will pay, without any regard for the ethical implications. Did you ever consider that you shouldn’t take her case? You’re emotionally involved! It’s unprofessional!”

Britney began to feel light-headed. She couldn’t explain it. She was reminded of the way David used to talk to her. They often fought just like this. He was so quick to anger. She’d try to reason with him, but it wasn’t long before he’d resort to childish name-calling. Inevitably she’d descend to his level, calling him names, questioning his manhood, comparing him to her past boyfriends. They’d fight so loudly and for so long that they’d forget what it was they were fighting about. After a few hours (or days) they would stop, emotionally exhausted, and horny as hell. Every one of their fights would invariably end in epic day-long fuck sessions. The insults that David hurled at her only hours before in anger became the substance of their dirty talk. She’d drive him crazy calling herself “a slut,” “a whore,” “a horny little bitch,” “his horny little bitch.” Britney placed her palms on the top of her desk to steady herself. This whole episode was so confusing. How was David having this effect on her? Something about the way he was talking to her, telling her off, putting her in her place . . . “I’m not. I’m . . . I’m not emotionally involved,” said Britney a little too tentatively.

“You lying whore! Look me in the eye and say that! Look me in the eye and tell me that your feelings about me aren’t influencing your professional decisions.”

Britney walked out from behind her desk. Now the only thing between her and David was about three feet of carpeted floor. She looked him in the eye, intending to fight back, tell him off, and assert her ability to distinguish between her private life and her professional life, but she didn’t do any of that. “Okay David. Maybe you’re right. It was unprofessional of me.”

“Maybe I’m right?”

“Okay, you are right,” Britney conceded. Dave noticed Britney fidgeting, fiddling with her grad ring. “I was a bitch. I am a bitch.” Britney bit her lip as the word left her mouth. There was an intensity, an urgency in her look that Dave hadn’t seen since . . . since . . . He knew that look. He suddenly remembered the contexts in which he had seen it before. Britney chewing on her bottom lip, her hands fidgeting, chest heaving. She wanted him.

“You really are a bitch,” Dave said, testing her reaction.

Britney shuddered slightly at the word. “Yeah,” she said breathily, lips quivering, “a bitch!”

“A bitch in heat,” Dave said as he stepped towards her, closing the distance between them. Britney backed up into her desk, her eyes still locked on Dave’s. He could see her trembling.

Dave was only inches away from her now. He ran his fingers up her abdomen towards her chest. Slowly he unbuttoned her jacket. Britney was practically panting as Dave slid her blazer off of her shoulders and pressed himself against her. “Do you want to be my bitch again Britney?” he asked, pushing her ass gradually but insistently onto the top of her desk. She was forced to sit, opening her legs slightly so that Dave could work his way in between them. As Dave reached a hand up the inside of her thigh, up under her skirt towards her pussy, he whispered into her ear, “Do you want to be my slut again Britney?”

At first Britney could hardly speak. It felt like she couldn’t catch her breath. But as soon she felt Dave’s fingers begin to explore her sex she responded suddenly and emphatically: “Yes! David!” she said. “I want to be your slut again. Make me your little slut,” she said, tearing off her blouse, and reaching for the buckle on Dave’s belt. Dave immediately reached up Britney’s back and unhooked her bra, releasing the tits he’d been fantasizing about on a regular basis for the past six years. Next, he pushed Britney’s skirt up around her waist, revealing a black thong already damp with Britney’s arousal. Grabbing it with both hands, he tore it in half, eliciting an excited squeal from his ex.

“On your back, slut,” Dave commanded as he reached to take his cock out. Britney moaned, falling backwards onto her desk. Her hips began to gyrate in anticipation of the fucking she was about to get. David grabbed her by the hips and plunged into her, impaling the blonde lawyer on his dick.

“Oh my God, David, you’re dick is so fucking huge! OOOOAAAHHHH!” Britney cried and moaned as Dave fucked her. “Ugh! No one’s as good as you, baby! No one fucks me like you!”

“That’s right you little fucking slut. You love it don’t you? Tell me how much you love my cock!”

“I love your cock! I love it! My pussy missed you so much! Fuck me like the little bitch I am!” As Britney moaned out obscenities her arms were stretched above her head, flailing around on her desk as if looking for something to hold onto. As Dave pounded his cock rhythmically into her needy pussy, papers, file folders, and picture frames went flying. To Dave’s surprise Britney’s sex talk became both filthier and more candid. “I’m sorry I ever left you. I was such a fucking . . . oh god! . . . such a fucking bitch. I should’ve known I couldn’t live without your cock . . . unnnnhhh! yeah! . . . Your cock is all I ever think about . . . I’m just a stupid fucking slut! All I’m good for is fucking and sucking your cock! That’s it, baby, fuck me. Give it to me. Put me in my fucking place!

Dave had never heard anything like this; Britney always had a talent for dirty talk, but this was completely unprecedented, and it was driving him crazy. Suddenly, without warning, Dave pulled his cock out of his ex’s pussy. Before Britney knew what was going on Dave had lifted her up and flipped her over. Her tits were now pressed against the top of her desk; her feet (somehow still in heels) were pressed firmly against the floor, shoulder width apart. Britney could feel Dave’s cock teasing the entrance to her pussy.

“Yeah, this is what you like, isn’t it bitch? This is just how you like to be fucked.”

“Mmmmhhhmmmm, aaaahhhh. Please baby. Please give it to me,” Britney whined.

Dave pressed forward slightly, teasing the entrance to Britney’s snatch. “You’ll have to ask me nicely,” he said.

“Unnnggghhh gawd, please Daddy, give your little slut some dick. She neeeeeeds it. She’s just a stupid little slut. Fuck me like the whore I am. Pleeeeeease”

Dave couldn’t take it anymore. Grunting in satisfaction, he thrust his cock into the lawyer turned sex-fiend. He couldn’t believe his ears. Britney had never talked like this before. The once dignified divorce attorney had been reduced to a horny slut, begging for cock, and he was loving every minute of it. He indulged himself, reaching out and grabbing a handful of her blonde locks; he pulled back, forcing Britney’s back to arch. Her chest was lifted up off the desk, so that only her nipples brushed against its cool wood surface.

“oh . . . oh yeah . . . Oh! Oh! OH! OH YES! YES DAVID! JUST LIKE THAT! Fuck me! Give it to me! Fuck me! Fuck me like a slut! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES!” Britney screamed her way through an earth-shattering orgasm as Dave selfishly made use of her body.

Once her pussy stopped spasming, Dave abruptly pulled out of her again. Britney looked back longingly over her shoulder at Dave’s still rigid cock. She was unable to lift herself up, still shaking in post-orgasmic bliss. David grabbed her by the hair and pulled her off of her desk. He allowed her to collapse onto the floor, but made sure she only made it as far as her knees. He tangled his left hand in her hair and held her upright, tugging her face close to his dick. With his right hand he began stroking his cock, jerking himself towards orgasm. Earlier that morning this woman had eviscerated Dave, combining creativity and cruelty to ensure that his life after marriage was going to be as difficult as possible. Now, here she was, on her knees, licking her lips, waiting obediently for Dave to cum all over her pretty face. The vision of Britney kneeling before him with her mouth open, waiting to swallow his cum was all he could take. Dave unloaded round after round of hot cum onto Britney’s upturned face. The first shot splattered across her forehead, the second landed directly in her mouth, another load landed on the bridge of her nose. After that, Britney grew frustrated by Dave’s poor aim. She took the base of his shaft in her hand and stuck his cock in her mouth so that Dave’s remaining ejaculate wouldn’t be wasted. She swallowed each drop as his dick continued to empty itself onto her tongue.

As Britney began humming with satisfaction, cleaning off Dave’s still stiff cock with her mouth, he began to think to himself that maybe this wasn’t such a bad day after all.

7.

Adam Sheppard walked confidently into Director Riker’s office.

“Ah! Adam,” said Riker from behind an imposing mahogany desk, barely looking up from his monitor. “Glad you’re here. I’ve just been reading your report. Have a seat”

“Yes sir. As you can see, everything’s been going precisely as planned. In fact, it’s been only a week since we activated Adonis and already the number of male subjects capable of contracting, sustaining, and employing the virus has significantly exceeded our expectations.”

“I see that,” said Riker. “Any cause for concern?”

“None at all, sir. It just seems that Research and Development were a little conservative in their initial estimates. They were simply trying to remain realistic. As it turns out, the research seems significantly further along than even they had hoped.”

“Excellent!” said Riker leaning back in his chair. “When will we be ready for phase two?”

“Shouldn’t be more than three months, sir,” said Adam.

“Let’s try for two shall we?”