The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I pushed the last of my stack aside, glancing at the clock while I took a celebratory sip of coffee. A little past one. The pride warmed me more than the drink ever would. Four hours to go, and I was already finished for the day! I pulled my headphones off, tossed them aside and leaned back, supremely satisfied with myself.

I had every reason to be. I’d been at my desk by six, per usual, and few knew their jobs, or had come as far in their careers, as I did at my age. The arcane labyrinths of business law were well-trodden paths to me, and few came close to my finesse in a courtroom. I was a jungle cat, completely in my element and feared by lesser beasts, both in the competition and among my peers.

Well, all my peers but one. Mark had become the youngest junior partner the company ever had, beating out my own record by nearly two years. I’d actually worried, once upon a time, that his star would eventually outshine mine. But that was something I hadn’t worried about in a long time. All I’d needed was a little confidence, and a little secret, and I was set.

Should I go home, or… I wondered, tapping my teeth with my pen. My hand was reaching for the phone before I’d finished the thought, mind already made up. Speed-dial, 1, and connect. “Mark? Would you come up to my office? I’ll need you for about, oh, say an hour. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Good.” I hung up, smiling like a shark.

Once upon a time, Mark had been my equal, my rival in a long-running undeclared war of skill. I’d settle a big case, and he’d win one in open court. He’d close a troublesome loophole in a contract, and I’d find two to exploit two. Back and forth we battled to become top dog, no prisoners, until, quite by accident, I stumbled on his dirty little secret. And that, as they say, was that; from then on, he was mine, in every sense of the word I cared for it to be.

And right now, I wanted to reward myself with a taste from my greatest and least-known victory. I spent a few minutes carefully re-applying my lipstick, blood-red to match my nails. It’s not the most professional of colors, but I like it for special occasions. There’s just something erotic about that phallic shape, tracing your lips, leaving a smooth trail of sensuality behind. Once my compact assured me it was perfect, I nitpicked impatiently at some briefs until his timid knock finally came. “Come in,” I called imperiously.

“You wanted to see me?” Mark asked, carry a stack of files under one deceptively-strong arm. Ever-helpful these days, that boy. I suppressed a shiver of anticipation.

“Have a seat,” I told him briskly, “And shut the door.” I didn’t have to be polite; we both knew what the score was.

As he did so, I saw my secretary Moira peeking through the closing gap of the doorway, eyes radar-locked on Mark’s backside. Get a good look, I told her silently. Look, because that’s all you can have. Moira was a young, pretty thing with a captivating presence; popular rumor had it that she was sexually insatiable, and bisexual as well. Certainly I’d caught her making inappropriate eyes at me before, and her ‘scoping out’ of Mark was nothing new, either. Unfortunately, she was also a superb secretary, the only thing that had kept me from firing her.

And I couldn’t really blame her jealousy. I took in Mark as he sat, concealing my appraisal with a poker face. Maybe five-ten, gorgeous blue eyes, nice hair. Appearances count a lot in our profession, and Mark took almost as much care as I did, with manicured hands and expensive suits. His body was lean and trim, and regular workouts in the gym kept him in the kind of shape that men envied and women swooned over. He hadn’t always been quite that well-cut, but our arrangement had changed a lot of things.

“What’s did you want to see me about, Ms. Winters?”

“Please, call me Emma,” I told him. Mark always addressed me as ‘Ms. Winters’ unless I gave him permission otherwise; hearing it never failed to send a little chill of power down my spine. “I finished up the AlCo brief,” I continued. “Stanton, Rice, and Bellawood are filed, and I don’t expect to hear from them until next week. How’s your end holding up?”

If Mark caught the double entendre, he kept it hidden. “Uh, pretty good; I’ve been a successful man this week.”

“What?” I asked, frowning. I almost drifted out for a moment, suddenly lightheaded.

“Er – you know. Doing well. PearSoft filed a continuance, so we’ve got some breathing room…”

I listened with half an ear as he spoke. I was almost as familiar with his caseload as my own, so I could afford to wander while he talked…

“Blackmail? You’re blackmailing me?” Mark was almost shouting, eyes guiltily avoiding the dossier I’d handed him. I hadn’t really expected him to read it. We both knew what was in it: odd transactions at too-perfect times, funds from over-charged accounts quietly tucking themselves away into an anonymous account, all pointing at Mark, after a lot of searching on my part. I’d re-covered his tracks before I confronted him, not wanting to kill the golden goose. It would have been a shame to destroy such a pretty scheme out of hand.

“Blackmail, if you like,” I told him airily. “A quid pro quo would suit us both better, I think.” He fumed for a minute or so while I watched him, cat-like. Those self-confidence tapes were paying for themselves, now.

“What do you want from me, Emma?” he finally asked. What choice did he have?

“Call me Ms. Winters, from now on,” I replied, almost laughing. I looked into those beautiful bedroom blue eyes, savoring the defeat I saw there. “And as for what you’re going to do for me…” I reached out and began to unbutton his shirt. “I’m so glad you asked…”

That was almost a year ago, and the bargain has held with no more than some minor problems, easily solved. Aside from his one lucrative flirtation with embezzlement, Mark’s proven to be honest enough in our dealings; I’ve yet to catch him trying to renege. For my part, I haven’t asked for too much; no point in being greedy, right? A share of the loot, credit for some of his juicier assignments, things like that. It was the power I relished, and it was the demonstration of that power that saw me calling Mark into my office every now and again. Not because I needed to, but simply because I could.

“Enough.” I cut Mark’s droning off with a dismissive wave. We’d talked long enough for Moira to stop listening at the door, probably. “C’mere.”

I swiveled my cushy leather chair as Mark slowly got to his feet, coming around the long oak desk to stand in front of me. “You know why you’re here.”

“Yes.” Resignation, concealed with a fake smile. I loved it.

“Who owns you?”

“You do.”

I nodded, and pointed a long nail downwards. “Kneel and worship your Mistress, boy,” I commanded.

I slid my skirt up over my knees as he knelt down, his strong fingers gripping the armrests for support. He leaned forward, bunching my skirt up above his head as he pulled his face into my waiting lap.

“Ah…” I sighed, as his tongue found its home away from home, teasing my labia apart with gentle nudges. I settled back as my boy-toy began eating me out with practiced skill, lapping my entire pussy into wakefulness before beginning those slow, warm ovals I loved so much.

“Goooood boy…” I cooed, running a hand idly through his hair. This morning, he’d advised a room of senior VPs on an upcoming Senate deliberation. Now he was a submissive little cunt-licker, exciting me like no one ever had. It’d taken me months to train him just right, but it was well worth the effort. I didn’t even have to tell him when I wanted it any more; he just dropped and started munching away at the first sign of my whim.

Today I was in the mood for more than just a friendly tongue-lashing, though. Once he’d gotten my juices flowing, I pushed his head back reluctantly. Obediently, Mark sat back on his heels, waiting.

“Such a gentleman, letting a lady go first,” I sighed, already missing his mouth. I waved him to his feet. “You’re such an obliging pussy-slave.” I chuckled as he stiffened resentfully, even while I unzipped his slacks with one hand.

“Let me see what Mark has for his Mistress,” I murmured, hand sliding past his silk boxers. I just love a man in silk. With a well-hung plaything at my beck and call, I seldom wore panties to work any more unless I was feeling particularly naughty, but Mark was in silk by default. Another part of our agreement.

“Lovely,” I told him truthfully, inhaling the masculine smell of him. Mark had a beautiful cock, and I’d taken care to keep it well-used. “Remember the rule,” I said, sing-song, “No coming until I say.”

I set to without waiting for a reply. This was one of my crueler games, forbidding him release while I tried like mad to get him off. In no time he was groaning, hands clenching at his sides as he tried to hold himself back against my assault on his member. I licked him, sucked him, stroked him, swallowed him, one hand fondling his testicles while the other jacked his shaft into my mouth. I sucked harder when I plunged, moaned when I pulled back, bobbing in time with the fractional jerks of his hips.

I kept it up for five or six minutes before I relented. Once I get started, it’s hard to stop myself, but I didn’t want to get carried away. I had other plans to end our meeting. I gave his cock one last gulp and sat back, licking my lips happily.

“Delicious,” I said, smirking. I looked up and giggled at Mark’s face, all contorted with that tense/excited/desperate look me get when you stop just when they’re starting.

“Aww, don’t be sad,” I said, standing. “I’ll make it alllll better.” I turned and leaned over my desk, cleared off for the occasion. It was just the right width: stretched out, my hands would just reach the far edge.

“Give it to me, fucker,” I demanded over my shoulder. “You know you want to.” I heard fabric rustle as Mark shed his pants. “Put that hot cock in my cunt. Fuck me on my desk like a bitch in heat. Do me– ohhhhhHHHHH!”

I was slick and ready, and Mark wasted no time. His obedience was my foreplay, his subjugation my lust made real. He rammed himself home with a vicious twist of his pelvis that made me cry out in spite of myself. He knew just what I wanted: no gentle caress, no tender lovemaking here. Within a dozen strokes he was pounding away at my quim, his fat cock brutally penetrating me. I held onto the desk for dear life, sliding over the cool polished wood with my blood singing in my ears.

“Talk to me, baby,” I panted, each breath forced out of me thrust by thrust. “Tell me… what you… feel…”

“Fucking… slut… You… manipulative… psycho… blackmailing… whore…” he gasped. His fingers took my shoulders roughly, hauling me back against him as he plowed relentlessly ever-deeper into my snatch. “Take it… take it, you bitch… you slutty… cocksucking… nympho… whore…”

I was bucking against him now, my pussy clenching with every word. I felt delightfully sinful, a total slut wantonly loving every burning inch she was given. I tried to keep the noise down, but a staccato mewling burst past my lips, rising as I drew closer and closer to the edge. I could feel the climax welling within me now, under my spine, expanding as mark’s cock reached into my innermost depths, summoning the blinding white orgasm crashing towards me, over me, through me...

“Coming... I’m... I’m...” Mark’s cock pulsed within me, a bolt of liquid sun piercing my soul, and I careened off into oblivion, sobbing...

“Satisfied?” I heard, as if from a long ways off.

Chest heaving, Mark pushed himself up and off the whimpering woman, gingerly removing himself from her sopping cunt. “Satisfied?” he asked, quietly. Emma moaned in response, delirious. “Here,” he said, bringing his shrinking cock to her mouth, “Clean me up.” Emma’s tongue darted out instantly, automatically licking him clean, lips smacking after him when he withdrew from her glossy lips. Chuckling, he pulled on his pants with a contented sigh.

Almost a year gone by, he thought to himself happily. Who’d have thought the bitch would be so suggestible, especially after all this time? It defied belief, except for the demonstrable fact that it worked. Emma still thought she had proof of embezzlement hanging over his head, still thought she’d successfully blackmailed him, still thought she was the one in power. He’d cleaned up the evidence implicating him in the money scheme, making sure what there was pointed at her in case someone else stumbled across it someday. Nothing connected him to it at all anymore, except that he used the money a lot more often than Emma did; her use was largely restricted to allowing her to afford frequent beauty salon trips, expand her ever-growing lingerie collection, and a membership at a very expensive health club.

Sure, she’d been promoted before him, but that was hardly the reward she thought it was. The simple fact of the matter was, he liked being dominated, especially by a woman who was, in fact, completely under his control. Somehow, she never seemed to grasp how much more their relationship benefited him than her. He patted Emma on her head as he returned to the other side of the desk. “Wake up, sleepy-head.”

Emma had managed to get to a more-or-less sitting position in her chair by the time Mark sat himself opposite her, her eyes blank and unseeing. Mark took out a notepad and consulted it, not wanting to leave his erstwhile rival in a trance-state for too long, just in case. “Ok, let’s go over some things,” he began.

“Yesss… sirrrr…” Emma said, slack-jawed.

“First, that diet and exercise program’s really paying off. You look great, and people are beginning to notice. Stick with it; don’t change anything unless you need to, or I say so.”

“Mmmmmnh… ooookaaaay…” Emma muttered, eyes glassy.

“Second, office changes. Let’s get a couch in here, all right? The clients won’t mind, the top floor won’t care, and it’d be nice to be able to fuck you laying down without having to be on the floor.” He glanced at his notes. “Which leads me to three. How are Smythe and Ross coming along?”

“Goood…” Emma slurred. “Smythe flirted back this week… gave Ross a hand job…” It was so hard to get the words out.

“Excellent. I’ve arranged to get a hidden digital video camera suite set up in your office. You plan to lure them in here, seduce them, and get it recorded. Take it slow, nothing more serious than a quick hand job until they’re in your office. And make sure you don’t give it up too fast; we’ve got all the time in the world. Got it?”

“Got it…” Emma nodded happily.

“Good. Fourth. What’s the status on Moira?”

“Slutty little bi-skank… Good para, but she wants you… wants me… Never woulda hired her if I’d known…”

“Mmm. Water-cooler talk jibes with that; that’ll make bringing her into the fold easier.” Mark leaned forward. “A little change here, Emma. You like Moira; you think she’s nice, and kind of sexy too. You’re curious about the bisexual thing, and it might be hot to watch her with me, too. Understand?”

“Yes… Moira… is hot…”

“Right. You’re going to befriend her, get to know her a lot better over time. I want you to start taking her out to that exclusive little workout spa you go to. Work out with her, shower with her if you can, go shopping and bar-hopping together. Let it drop – eventually – that you like bondage, and you’re… what do they call it now? ‘Bi-curious’. I hear she likes short-haired red-heads, so I want you to change your look, too. Gradually, but in the next, oh, two weeks. Got all that?”

Emma nodded woodenly. “…got it…”

Mark nodded, and continued. “Great. Once you two are sleeping together, lend her the first three confidence-building audio tapes I gave you. She’ll be a docile little fuckbunny in a matter of months. Which reminds me… I want you to make an unannounced visit to my place this Saturday, around five. Buy a whole new outfit for the occasion, slutty as hell. You want me to help you act out a hooker fantasy. Oh, and bring a camera.”

Mark closed his notebook, satisfied. “All right then, one last thing. I want to get in a round of golf this afternoon, so…”

Emma nodded along, brain absorbing her Master’s words like a sponge, keeping his commands safe in the back of her head until she needed them… safe, and warm, so reassuring and so right…

I came back to my senses slowly, riding a gentle wave post-orgasmic bliss as the real world seeped back in. I sat up, seeing Mark had already dressed and returned to his seat, no doubt feeling violated and ashamed. “At least you’re good for something, Markie-boy.” I favored him with a lopsided smile. “But you know what they say: ‘Behind every satisfied woman is a successful man’.”

I watched Mark’s cheeks burn with delight, my hands fussily trying to put some order back into my mussed hair. Getting too long, I mused. Maybe I should get it done shorter. And maybe some coloring, too; it’s been brown for ages Snapping back into focus, I regarded Mark contemptuously. “Is that the Greene file?”

Mark looked startled. “Yeah, and some others. I–”

“Give them here.” Mark handed the stack over, mouth opening in protest. I cut him off preemptively. “Green’s important, and I want to make sure it gets done right. Besides,” I added with a simpering smile, “You should go hit the gym. Don’t want my favorite boy-toy getting out of shape, do I?”

Mark shook his head, biting his lip in anger. “Good boy,” I told him. “Now get moving; I’ve got your work to do.”

Once I’d dismissed him, the remainder of the day went by quickly. I might not have known five had rolled around but for Moira, who stuck her head in the door at five minutes to. “Ms. Winters?” the girl asked timidly. “It’s nearly quitting time. Did you want anything else?”

I was feeling generous; there’s nothing like a good midday romp to put you in a good mood. “Nah, go on home, Moira,” I told her. “I’ve got a bit more to do yet.”

As she turned to go, I found my eyes drifting to watch Moira’s bottom shift back and forth under her tight skirt. A bit too form-fitting to be truly professional-looking, but… Maybe I’ve been a little too tough on her, I thought. She really does do a good job around here… “Moira? A moment?”

Moira stopped, probably dreading a last-minute assignment. “Yes, Ms. Winters?” she asked, turning slowly.

“Oh, nothing bad,” I said sweetly. “Just… well, I was wondering if you were doing anything Saturday morning. I haven’t shown you much appreciation lately, and you never complain. So I’ve been thinking… there’s this health club I belong to, and they allow members to bring a visitor…” Moira accepted happily, surprised as much by my unaccustomed friendliness as her generous offer. Humming to myself, I popped a fresh “Confidence Now!” tape in the player and returned to work.

The sun had long been down by the time she finished. Emma stretched her arms in relief, taking off the headphones that pumped confidence-inspiring messages subliminally behind a rather nice jazz selection, one of Mark’s little sarcastic gifts from before she’d conquered him. She’d worked the entire time, stopping only to make an appointment with her stylist for next week. First in, last out… the mantra of a satisfied woman.

She was still humming when she made a last-minute stop on her drive home, racking up nearly four hundred dollar’s worth of outfits, shoes, and lingerie, all paid for courtesy of Mark’s little account. She didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty in spending his ill-gotten money; after all, he’d reap at least some of the benefits, soon enough. In fact… Emma made another unplanned stop, just for him, at a boutique catering more to teens looking for clubware than professional women. The outfit she ended up with was eye-raising, and the amount of skin it showed was scandalous, but Emma had something very specific in mind. Silver hoop earrings, mile-high stilettos, an abbreviated latex vest over a fishnet shirt and a plaid skirt that barely covered her rump… paired with a garter belt, fishnet stockings, and an absurd amount of makeup… She would pay Mark a little visit this weekend, both to remind him who was boss, and indulge a little roleplaying fantasy she’d been thinking about. And then there was Moira… I should really give her a chance,, Emma thought. I’ll bet she could work wonders for my social life. And I may bring her in on my little secret… Emma’s thighs were rubbing together, already anticipating it.