The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Simon returned to the family home with a spring in his step. Everything seemed a lot more clear this week. All the mysteries had been explained (well, almost all of them), and life just seemed so much more simple now—John would give him instructions, and he would obey them. There was something...freeing...about not having to worry about decisions any more. And he was fully decided—he’d given himself to John, fully.

Up in his room, he completed his new exercise regime. Now he was up to sixty press-ups, sixty-sit ups, thirty chin-ups. He could feel himself getting stronger. And if he was stronger, then that would enable him to serve better. That kept him motivated when the exercise got tough. He looked at himself in the mirror. Certainly not an adonis, but noticeably less doughy than a couple of weeks ago. His phone buzzed on his bed.

“Something to keep you warm at night <video attached>".

Simon blushed. He knew what the video would be before he opened it. Just to confirm, he pressed play, and surely enough his own smiling face looked back at him, cheeks bulging obscenely with John’s erect cock.

Biting his bottom lip, Simon looked around the empty room. He’d have to be more careful leaving his phone lying around the house if it was going to have this kind of stuff on it. Of course, the idea of deleting the video was out of the question. This was a gift from Sir, to be treasured.

He watched the short clip again, and absentmindedly stroked the outside of his cock cage with one hand. Good job that was off-limits he thought, or he would be very distracted, wanking off to this video all night. Instead, he texted back “Thank you Sir”, pulled on some trousers, and went to ask his parents if they needed any help with the house chores.

Several new messages were already waiting for Simon when he awoke on Wednesday morning. This was very exciting, usually Sir sent only one short message at a time. Simon couldn’t wait to read each one.

“I’ve got an important job for you today. First make sure you go to the loo, both number one and number two”.

Simon was intrigued. What on earth could this job be?

“Take the number 72 bus into town. Get off at the high street. Go to the Fancy Dress shop on Corn Street”.

“Wait for the shop to be empty of other customers, then go up to the desk and tell them you’re ‘One of John’s boys’. Use that exact phrase. They will know what to do. Do whatever they ask you to do”.

Simon’s mouth drooped open. This was too much. It was one thing to play sexy games in the privacy of John’s house, but out in public like this? And who were the people in this shop? What would they ask him to do? He didn’t know if he could go along with this.

His fingers trembled as he typed his reply. “Sorry, I don’t know if I can go along with this, I feel like it’s going too fast and—".

He stopped. Another message came through.

“But first, say the Oath out loud, right now boy”.

Simon took a slow breath, put the duvet up over his head to dampen the sound, and quietly but firmly recited:

“MY CUNT, MY COCK, MY NIPPLES AND MY MOUTH ARE YOURS TO TRAIN. I AM YOUR PROPERTY THIS DAY AND ALWAYS, TO DO WITH AS YOU SEE FIT”

Taking another slow breath, he felt his confidence returning. What was he doing, second guessing his Master like this? John would not do anything that would hurt him, he was sure of that.

Quickly, he highlighted his half-written message, pressed delete, and re-typed simply “Yes Sir”.

Disembarking the bus on the high street, it was a short walk from the bus stop to the fancy dress shop. Simon’s mind whirled with possibilities as to what today’s job might be. Dressing up? Perhaps John wanted him to wear some kind of costume next time he made a delivery? Many erotic ideas occurred to him. French maid? Maybe something in leather? Or latex? But he hadn’t seen any of the other boys dressed up like that. In fact, quite the opposite...

As he arrived at the shop, it was fairly quiet. Just a couple of customers already at the till. Simon hoped they would leave soon, the suspense was almost killing him. He pretended to browse the superhero costumes as he waited.

After a couple of minutes the customers paid for their purchases and left, the shop door dinging its little bell as they exited. Trembling slightly, Simon stealed himself. This was definitely crossing a new line. He walked up to the desk as casually as he could. The shop assistant’s name badge read ‘Joan’. She was a lady in her fifties, frizzy ginger hair and horn-rimmed glasses.

Simon coughed, “I’m uh...one of John’s boys”, he muttered.

“What’s that, dearie?? You’re going to have to speak up, I’m a little deaf in one ear!”

Good Lord, Simon thought, she’s really going to make me say it again? It had taken all his courage just to say it the first time! He glanced around the shop. Still empty.

More clearly this time “I said, I’m one of John’s boys”, and he added a meaningful nod as he said it.

Slowly a big Cheshire-cat grin spread across Joan’s face, and she looked him up and down like a piece of meat.

“Well, well, well, never would have guessed! Although, I suppose, he does have a type now doesn’t he?”

Joan came out from behind the desk, strode over to the front of the shop and flipped the sign ‘Back in 5 minutes’. Simon could scarcely believe what was going on. Was this part of some secret society? Were all the old people in this town involved in some weird sex games. His thoughts went briefly to his own parents, before he shook the thought away, blushing with the shame of it. No way.

Joan returned to the desk and, brushing past Simon without looking, simply announced “Follow me” as she pushed through a curtain into the back of the shop.

Simon followed as instructed, past the curtain he followed Joan down some stairs into the basement of the shop and into a small, windowless room. Joan pulled a cord and a bare, shadeless light bulb flickered on.

“Shut that behind you, love”, she said, gesturing back behind her towards the door, as she fiddled with a key in a locked filing cabinet. Simon did what he was asked, and the door clicked shut behind him.

“Put that up while I’m sorting this out”, she said, half-turning and nodding towards a folding table leaning against a wall. Simon took the table and, with a little flailing, managed to click the legs into place. It looked like a table you might use for measuring wallpaper. He was still deeply confused as to what this was all about.

“Now then, here we go!", Joan announced triumphantly turning around and placing several items on the table, “This will be what you’re after”.

Simon was gobsmacked. There, on the table, was a six inch dildo, some sort of underwear (although on closer inspection it looked more like a harness with tying straps), and a large tub of KY jelly.

“I...uh...no-one told me to—", Simon stammered.

“Calm down dearie, you’re not the first”, Joan reassured him, “So, if you want to pop your pants of for a minute. Just hang them on that chair over there”.

Simon looked over at the chair, then back to Joan, and just nodded dumbly. He had been instructed to do whatever this person asked, and so that’s just what he was going to do.

As he hooked his thumbs inside his trousers, he hesitated. What about his bright pink cock cage? Then he felt foolish. Of course, this woman would know all about that already.

Joan could see the momentary hesitation on his face and laughed loudly, “Oh it never gets old! Always a treat for me when John sends one of you boys down here. Come on, don’t be shy. I have to back up in the shop in a few minutes”.

Simon slipped off his trousers, still instinctively moving his hands to half-cover the cock cage. Joan rolled her eyes. He felt very exposed.

“Right, bend over”, she said suddenly, pulling a surgical rubber glove ofer her right hand.

“Over...?", Simon replied weakly.

“Over the table dearie! Good grief, we haven’t got all day”.

Simon commanded his body to move, but for some reason it wouldn’t move at more than a snail’s pace. He was a little bit scared of what he suspected was going to happen next. As his chest approached the table, Joan gently pushed him down to speed up the last part of the process.

“Now, this is going to be a little cold, so just be ready for that”, and with that Simon felt the cold wetness of the KY jelly being liberally and, quite forcefully, applied to his anus.

“Ahhhhh!", he shuddered.

“Told you it’d be cold!", Joan chuckled, using a finger to force jelly right up his hole, “But trust me you’ll be glad of this in a minute. The more the better, I find!".

After a few more applications, and a brief pistoning of the finger in and out of Simon’s hole (squelch, squelch, squelch), Joan cracked open the plastic packaging of the dildo.

“Here it comes, relax and think of England”, Joan said. Simon wondered if she had been a nurse at some point, she seemed to have the bawdy patter of someone used to getting patients to take their medicine.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Simon felt the smooth tip of the dildo smoothly pushing away the sides of his sphincter. It was a weird feeling, not unpleasant, but he felt...filled, congested. The feeling continued for a surprisingly long time until finally, “There we go!".

Simon started to relax, but Joan stopped him before he started to move.

“Hold on, hold on. You’re not quite done yet”.

Simon looked back towards his behind and could see Joan putting the odd underwear onto him. It looked like there was a circular pouch-type indentation designed to receive the end of the dildo protruding from his anus. Then the straps looped around his legs and waist to secure it in place. It dawned on him—this was to ensure that the large dildo remained up inside of him as he wore it under his clothes!

“There we go, you’re ready to go dearie. Although you’ll have to practice doing the straps up yourself for next time. You can try that at home, I think John has a video he can send you...Go on, pop your pants back on”.

Simon started putting his legs back into his trousers, moving as gingerly as possible. This provoked another fit of laughter from Joan, and she continued.

“Right, so what you have to do is connect your phone to it on Bluetooth. Then install the app, the name’s on the packaging here. Then if you send the code to John he’ll be able to turn it on and off remotely.”

“Uhh...ok, let me see”, Simon stammered.

“Oh not now dearie, not now. Just go home for now, and you can do all the downloading and faffing about there. I’ve got to get back to the shop”, Joan said as she closed and locked the filing cabinet.

Breezing past the confused-looking Simon, she waved for him to follow her back up the stairs to the front of the shop.

Simon tried to follow as quickly as he could, but each step seemed to push the wind completely out of him, with an accompanying “Ugghh” or “Hnng!". Still he limped after Joan, trying to stifle the noises as he went.

By the time he reached the top of the stairs, Joan was already flipping the sign to re-open the shop and apologising to a couple of people who had been waiting outside. Trying to look as normal as possible, Simon slowly walked bandy-legged out of the shop and back onto Corn Street. Through the window he turned back to see Joan giving him a wave and a wicked smile, as she talked to the new customers.

He hobbled back to the high street, each step causing the harness to force the dildo deeper into his rectum. After fifty yards, the feeling of congestion gave way to a rhythmic feeling of pleasure. Oh God, Simon thought, is it stimulating my prostate? He had read about that, but never experienced it. This was bad, he couldn’t orgasm out here on the street, people would think he was some sort of pervert!

Slowing his pace didn’t seem to help. Images flashed in his mind of John bending him over his dining room table, pushing his big cock into his behind. In his mind, each thrust matched the pace of his walk, so no matter how fast he went, there was John, slamming into his boy-hole with gay abandon.

Somehow he contained himself and made it back to the bus stop. This was wild, Simon thought. It’s like torture, but also the most delectable pleasure he’d ever felt in his life. He needed to get home.

As he waited for the bus, he thought he’d better text John to let him know he’d done the job. He texted “Mission accomplished”, which Simon felt was a little formal, but also somehow appropriate. He felt like he’d been sent on some sort of secret agent mission (although imagine the James Bond films if they were like this! he thought with a grin).

As he got onto the bus he made it to his seat and immediately realised there was a problem: vibration! When he sat, the dildo was forced up inside him to its maximum extent, and while idling the bus sent concentrated vibrations right up to his prostate. It felt like electricity running through his body!

Realising this, Simon tried to get up, but an old man had already taken the seat next to him, trapping him in.

“Oh Goddddd!", Simon thought as he tried to keep his composure.

“Are you alright there son? You look a little flushed”, the old gent next to him said.

Looking over, Simon just gave him a nod and a tight-lipped smile, although it came out as more of a wince. He couldn’t help but notice that this man was around John’s age, and quite similar looking.

How long until my stop? Simon thought, it was at least fifteen minutes, possibly twenty if they hit traffic. How was he going to last until then??

He tried to think of other things, but every time the bus lurched to a stop the powerful vibrations intensified, sending wave after wave of pleasure through his body. The old man next to him was reading a copy of the Metro, but as time went on seemed less and less interested in the paper and more interested in Simon. In fact, it was getting to the point where he was pretty blatantly looking over at him every time the bus stopped.

Simon checked the time on his phone. He was about half-way theeeeeeeere (oh god another bus stop, how many of these are there). This time he was sure he felt the old man slowly rub his foot up against his leg. Simon looked rigidly ahead. Oh God, he knows, Simon thought. He’s sniffed me out. Or maybe he’s part of this old person’s perv network I’m just discovering.

The old man licked his lips and turned his head in Simon’s direction. There was no mistaking it now. This was a proposition. Either tell him to stop or he’s going to carry on. Simon turned to look at him pleadingly. He couldn’t tell him to stop.

Just then, Simon’s phone buzzed. Flustered he quickly pulled it out of his pocket and switched it on. The message read:

“Good boy! Keep that dildo in your cunt for now. We’ll have some fun with it tonight as your reward”.

Simon’s heart pounded in his chest as he read this. The the realisation dawned on him, he had turned his phone on in full view of the old man next to him. He slowly, so slowly, turned his head to look at him. The old man was grinning back now, his wide smile showing his old yellow dentures.

He had seen it.

The old man slipped one foot out of his loafers and slowly raised the bottom of Simon’s trousers, exposing his bare skin above the sock. The old man started to slowly stroke the back of Simon’s calf up....and down, up....and down. He craned his neck around to look Simon straight in the eye as he did this, to see his reaction.

Simon shut his eyes and bit his bottom lip. Oh god, this felt too good. He was going to have an orgasm on the bus.

He was going to have an orgasm on the bus, he thought again.

Now the old man put the Metro down in his lap and put his flat cap down on top of it. Glancing around the rest of the bus he lowered his right hand underneath the newspaper and coughed to subtly cover the sound of unzipping his fly. Then he reached over, grasped Simon’s left hand, and gently but firmly guided it towards his crotch.

Simon put up no resistance. Waves of pleasure from the calf-stroking and bus vibrations were clouding his brain so much he couldn’t form thoughts. His mouth lolled open as his breath came in short pants, a fleck of saliva running down his tongue and onto his own crotch, already sticky with soaked-through pre-cum.

“Good boy”, the old man whispered in his left ear, giving Simon a thrill. The phrase had become like a pavlovian trigger in his psyche. The old man’s breath tickled Simon’s ear. “Good boy”, he said again, as he started to pump Simon’s hand up and down on his cock.

Simon was in a sex-crazed daze at this point. Another stop, HHNNNNNNG, oh god oh god, he increased the tempo of his stroking to match the vibrations of the bus being conducted through his cunt. The old man had removed his hand now, and put them on top of the paper. Simon was doing this all on his own now.

He could feel the old man start to shift a bit in his seat. He was breathing through his nose now, the breaths starting to pick up pace like a race horse. Then the old man’s lips parted and...

“Ohhhhhhhh, mmmmmmm”, the old man did an excellent job of disguising his ejaculation. Under the newspaper, Simon could feel the old man’s cock pulse, and saw the blort, blort, blort of his sticky semen soaking through the newspaper.

This was the trigger for Simon. “UNNNNNNNHHHHHHHH!!".

He did a worse job of disguising his orgasm, but still no-one on the bus seemed to notice. Cum pumped through the slit in his cock cage, making his already soaked groin even stickier. Drool flowed down his right cheek. He reached up and wiped it away.

The old man was scribbling something on a dry part of the Metro. He tore it off and folded into Simon’s hand.

“My phone number”, he mouthed with a grin. The old man zipped up his pants and pressed the bell to stop the bus.

As the old man got off the bus, Simon looked through the window and saw him pushing the cum-stained newspaper into a bin. Looking up, the old man caught his eye, and made the ‘call me’ gesture with his hand, smiling.

Simon looked down at the phone number on the crumpled piece of paper in his hand. He took out his phone and added it as a contact, with the name simply as ‘Bus man’.

What on earth was happening to him?