The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Alison looked up with a smile as her room-mate entered the small dorm that they shared.

“Heya Rose,” she said, noting the girl’s ruffled clothes and messy hair. “Man, Ancient Greece 101 must have been a good time.”

The two of them got along well; better than either had expected, considering that they’d been assigned randomly. Alison was much more confident than the shy Scottish girl—she was from California originally, and so had been able to help her exchange student with the culture shock.

There weren’t many places around Los Angeles that had black pudding, but Alison had managed to find one, and the look of happiness on Rose’s face had only been matched by Alison’s look of disgust when the redhead had offered her a bite.

Since then, their friendship had been rock-solid. Alison would ensure that Rose occasionally stopped studying and met people; Rose would find somewhere to be when Alison brought a boy home.

And Alison would good-naturedly tease the shy girl whenever possible.

After learning that Rose was studying about Mesopotamia, Alison had deliberately referred to her course by every other ancient civilization she knew. Rose would grinningly correct her every time, and the two of them would share a laugh.

It was a simple joke, but it amused both of them well enough.

Today, however, Rose didn’t react.

Alison raised one eyebrow. “You okay, girl?”

Rose just stared at her, looking slightly dazed. Suddenly, her dormie’s rumpled clothing and messed-up hair had a different, much darker explanation.

Why had she made that stupid joke?

“Oh my god, Rose. Rose, are you okay?”

When Rose didn’t answer, Alison was at a loss as to what to do. She wanted to draw the tiny redhead close and hug her, but also didn’t want to inflict even more unwanted personal contact on her friend.

“Hmmm?”

“Rose, who was it?”

“Who was what?”

Alison hesitated. Rose seemed to be genuinely confused by the question. Maybe she’d gotten the wrong end of the stick somehow.

“…where have you been, girlfriend?”

“I just…”

Rose trailed off, staring into space with a smile on her face.

“Rose?”

“I just had the most wonderful experience. Can I show you?”

“Of course,” Alison replied immediately, confused. “Just let me get my jacket.”

“You won’t need it,” Rose said dreamily, and Alison decided to trust her friend’s instincts. Whatever she’d just been through, it had apparently blown her mind, and Alison was curious to experience whatever the heck it was.

Rose marched uncharacteristically a few steps in front of Alison, dragging the taller blonde by the arm.

It was an odd sight, and a few people stopped to check it out. It was snowing…well, as close as L.A. got to snow, and Alison immediately regretted her decision not to put on another layer.

Not just for the warmth.

Alison stood half a foot taller than Rose. She had an athletic build, except for the pair of C-cups that sat pertly on her chest. As Rose determinedly pulled her through the crowd, her breasts (which attracted attention at the best of her times) bounced uncontrollably, and several male students—and one professor—stopped to smile at the sight.

The blonde’s eyes sparkled with a mix of emotions—annoyance at Rose’s lack of forethought, indignation at the unwanted attention, and (if she was being honest with herself) pride that her figure was enough to make people halt as the pair passed them by.

“Rose,” she said through gritted teeth, “where are we going?”

“Almost there,” the Scottish girl replied. Her accent grew thicker when she was excited, and the young woman was so worked up that it took Alison a moment to interpret what she’d said.

The wind whipped Alison’s blond hair, and a wave of goosebumps ran across her body as she shivered.

“Okay,” she said. “But this had better be worth it.”

“Trust me,” Rose said, enthusiastically rolling the ‘r’. “Trust me, you’ll be glad you came.”

Alison stared at the painting, her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed.

“This is it?”

“Yup!” Rose said brightly.

“This is what blew your mind?”

“Uh-huh!”

“You dragged me across campus, not even letting me stop to get a jacket…to look at this?”

“That’s right,” Rose said, barely able to contain her excitement.

Alison squinted, tilted her head, and eventually turned to her glowing redheaded friend.

“I don’t get it.”

“Keep looking. Seriously. You’ll see it.”

Alison stared at the painting. The College Art Gallery was closing in 45 minutes, so she knew that at worst, her ordeal would last less than an hour. Earlier that day, she would have said that there was no way that Rose would make her look at a painting for that long, but now…she wasn’t so sure.

She seemed to be pretty devoted. Obsessed, even.

It was weird that such a drab photo had inspired such devotion. It was a woman in a white dress, holding a green umbrella. By her side was a small child in a sunhat; the painting’s name suggested it was meant to be her son.

Pretty, sure, but not something worth rushing across campus for.

As she leaned forward, Alison suddenly became aware that they were being watched. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see someone checking the two of them out.

Not wanting to alert the stranger that she could see them, Alison continued staring at the painting, twisting her head, acting as though she was trying to see whatever Rose had seen in the photo. All the while, however, she was really just focused on catching a glance of the stranger in her peripherals.

It was a man, she was fairly sure of that. Yes, definitely a man. He looked like he was older, maybe twenty-five or thirty? Alison had just turned nineteen, and didn’t really have the hang of working out the age of anyone more than a few years outside of her own age group.

He was cute, Alison suddenly realized. He was standing still, staring straight at them, and even though she never looked away from Monet’s carefully messy brushstrokes, she’d somehow managed to catch a glimpse of his face.

No, not just cute: hot. There was something about the dominant way he was standing, the absolute surety of his gaze. He didn’t care if the girls noticed him checking them out—he was going to do it anyway.

Alison found a heat growing between her legs at the thought. He looked like the kind of man who would do what he wanted most of the time.

Suddenly, the blonde teen was glad that Rose had insisted that she come to this art gallery without a jacket—there’d be no way to casually remove it, but her current garb meant that she could stand up straight, push her shoulders back, and manage to look like she was accidentally thrusting her boobs forward, making sure that as much of her generous cleavage was on display as possible.

The stranger noticed. Alison didn’t know how she knew that, but she did. He’d noticed her showing off, showing off her body.

Despite her efforts to mask it, he’d known it was for him.

The thought caused another warm pulse to travel through Alison’s body. She was now doubly glad that she wasn’t wearing a jacket—as the warmth between her legs grew, a blush had begun to spread over her face and shoulders.

Maybe the stranger had noticed.

She could only hope.

Without ever taking her light green eyes off the painting, Alison quickly checked the area for guards. None.

If the stranger wanted to, he could walk up to the two girls, send Rose away, and take Alison as his own. He could push her legs apart with his, bend her over, lift up the black, knee-length skirt she was wearing, move her soaking panties to the side and fuck her.

He could fuck her in front of the painting, and no one would notice. No one would know.

Or—even better—instead of sending Rose away, he could get her to watch.

A soft pant of desire escaped Alison’s mouth. She hoped Rose hadn’t noticed…while, on some level, desperately hoping that her room-mate had noticed.

Why was that thought so hot to her? Rose watching her have sex. There had been plenty of opportunities for exactly that—Alison wasn’t shy about bringing boys back to their shared room, but Rose had always been diplomatic, and given them plenty of privacy.

Suddenly, Alison wished for an alternate history, one where Rose hadn’t been so understanding. One where she’d stayed, sitting on her bed, maybe listening to music through her headphones.

One where Alison had loudly fucked one of her random college lays, Rose sitting in the next bed, watching.

Until finally, when Alison was approaching climax, Rose had taken off her headphones, approached the bed, and…

All of a sudden, Alison was brought back to reality. She realized that she was panting, loudly. Rose must have noticed something.

Rose must have noticed how turned on she was.

The thought only served to increase her arousal.

More than anything, she wanted the strange man to approach, to lift up her skirt and fuck her. She wanted Rose to watch as she got roughly pounded by a stranger, she wanted Rose to reach between her own legs and play with her wetness, to get off at the sight of her blonde bombshell of a friend loudly cumming as she bounced up and down on a stranger’s cock.

No, more than that. She wanted Rose to be ordered to watch. She wanted to watch her Scottish friend’s face flush as she was commanded, as the unknown man’s authority made her wetter than she’d ever been.

Alison wanted to be commanded to fuck, and for Rose to be commanded to watch. And then…she wanted Rose to be ordered to lick the man’s juice from her friend’s pussy.

She wanted to be owned, to be used. She wanted to be a sex toy, nothing more than a fuck-doll for the strange man.

The college student had no idea who he was, or how he’d managed to inspire such devotion, but she knew that she wanted to be his, more than she could remember ever wanting anything in her life.

And then, as light dawned, she turned from the painting and faced Rose. Rose was looking straight at her, completely unable to conceal her glee.

The two girls stared at each other for a few seconds, until Alison’s grin was broad enough to match Rose’s.

Wordlessly, she asked permission. Rose’s response was instant, an enthusiastic nod at her room-mate’s silent inquiry.

Alison took a step forward, and pressed her lips against the shorter girl’s. Alison’s ruby-red lips met Rose’s pink mouth, and within a few seconds their tongues were intertwined, exploring and enjoying each other’s saliva.

In Rose’s mouth, Alison could taste a slight tang of something familiar. Her vibrant green eyes widened with excitement as she realized what it was, and—as if as one—the two girls turned to the man watching, to their new Master.

The kiss had been for him, of course. Everything was for him. He smiled as they slowly swayed towards him, shucking clothes as they did. By the time they reached him, the two college girls were completely nude, Rose’s white skin a strong contrast to Alison’s perfectly even tan.

It was still freezing cold outside, but neither girl noticed. Normally, the sight of a well-dressed man accompanied by two naked beauties would catch some eyes, but no one seemed to notice as the trio made their way across the campus, stopping at an illegally parked limousine.

As the car peeled off, everyone on campus paused at the same time, blinked twice, and then continued going about their day. Meanwhile, behind a speeding car’s one-way glass, two tongues met for the second time—this time, proudly dancing their way up and down their Master’s cock.