The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Bridget lay in bed, gently touching herself. She was bored, and she had nothing better to do. Laura and Marise were up in Glasgow on a long weekend trip with Laura’s parents. They’d offered to bring Bridget along, but since the trip had been planned long before Bridget had come to London and it was obvious the logistics would have been nearly impossible, Bridget graciously declined the invitation. Porcia was in Paris. Her parents had taken her to make up for the trip she’d missed two weeks earlier.

Porcia, Porcia, Porcia. Bridget smiled. That had certainly turned out well. Laura and Marise had certainly noticed the change in Porcia, and had been grateful for it. Maybe it was the night she’d let Laura and Marise tie her, spread eagled, to her bed and let them do ANYTHING they’d wanted to. For a while there, Bridget had been a little worried. Laura and Marise spent those first few hours taking out all their frustrations on the now submissive blonde. Laura especially had been ... vigorous ... in exacting her revenge. But after three hours of probing, stuffing, licking and abusing each and every orifice on Porcia’s body, they’d relented. And it wasn’t as if Porcia was complaining.

Bridget had to admit, the change in Porcia had been for the better. It was true she still didn’t suffer fools well, but the arrogance and contempt that had formerly been so integral to the blonde’s personality was long gone. On top of the sex, there were benefits to boot. As it turned out, Porcia had a sharp sense of humor, when the spirit so moved her. Her eye for fashion and accessories was well developed, and she was happy to share that insight with her three new friends. Bridget had to admit she was dressing a lot better these days. All in all, Bridget had to admit, things had turned out pretty well. She’d done well, and it felt nice to do something good.

Her fingers flicked across her clit a couple more times. That felt nice also, but not nice enough. Resigned to the fact she was going to have to wait until someone came home and did her properly, she dragged herself out of bed. She threw a robe on after a long shower, then plopped herself in front of Claire’s computer. She hadn’t e-mailed Chris in a while, and he kept firing off notes full of questions about Claire.

She stared at the screen, wondering what she should tell her brother. She couldn’t lie to him, but she didn’t want to worry him either. No matter how concerned he was, there wasn’t a lot he could do for Claire if he was in Chicago and she was in London. So what to say?

In the end, she decided to just tell him the truth. Depending on how one looked at it, Claire was doing very well. She had a good job and she was climbing the ranks steadily. She had a beautiful home. There was no doubt she was content. But Claire deserved to be more than content, in Bridget’s opinion. It was clear, to Bridget at least, that on a very important level, Claire was lonely. And when she’d finished the e-mail, that’s what she’d told Chris.

Bridget looked at the clock. 10 o’clock in the morning. She ticked off all the things she hadn’t done yet. Maybe after lunch, she’d go check out the British Museum? Or maybe Stonehenge ... there was always a bus heading out there. That would certainly eat up an entire day. She had to do something; she could feel a major case of cabin fever coming on.

She wandered around the apartment for a while. It was too early to eat lunch, but too late to do much of anything else. She watched TV for a while, just long enough to reconfirm an observation she made early in her stay in the UK ... British TV was vastly overrated. The best of it, like Monty Python and Fawlty Towers, was terrific. But for the most part, it was just as inane as anything she’d find back home. She was lying on the couch, reading a Roddy Doyle novel, when Susan blew through the condo door.

Claire’s best friend had dressed down this particular day; dressed down by Susan’s usual standards, at lest. She wore a tan pair of Capri pants, a white blouse and a really cute set of strapy sandals. But Susan being Susan, her makeup was applied to perfection, with hot pink lipstick that accentuated her full, kissable lips. And the clothes were tight, showing off her assets to devastating effect. Susan was definitely the kind of person that captured attention, of men as well as women. Bridget could certainly vouch for that.

“What are you doing here?” Bridget asked.

“I took the day off. I think you Yanks call it a ‘mental health day’,” Susan said casually as she dropped onto the couch, forcing Bridget to pull her feel back. “What a wonderful expression that is, by the way. So perfectly descriptive. I can’t believe an American came up with it.”

“So, I repeat, what are you doing here?”

“Well, you know Claire. Work, work, work. Couldn’t convince her to play hooky with me. But you, on the other hand,” Susan ran her hand along Bridget’s leg, “I suspect you’re the kind of girl that appreciates a good time.”

Bridget smiled. This was the game she and Susan had been playing. Susan would tease, and insinuate and allude. And Bridget would smile, and play dumb and pull back at the last second. It frustrating, but fun. If only Susan would get over her hang up about fucking Claire’s young foster sister then Bridget would show her what fun was really all about. Then again, there were ways around that and Bridget had a whole day full of absolutely nothing to do.

“Let me throw some clothes on, and we’ll talk.”

“Don’t go to any trouble on my account,” Susan leered.

Bridget smiled coyly and hopped off the couch. Back in her room, she put on a sleeveless t shirt and her skimpiest pair of running shorts. She didn’t bother with a bra or panties. She had a feeling she wasn’t going to need them. Then she reached for the bag she kept hidden behind her dresser. She pulled out a small pouch.

“I was about to put some tea on, would you like some?” she yelled.

“That would be wonderful.”

Bridget headed directly for the kitchen, making sure the pouch stayed hidden. Susan blatantly eyed the redhead as she passed. They made small talk as they waited for the water to boil. She pulled out two mugs and dropped tea bags into each. In Susan’s mug, Bridget added two pinches of the powder in the pouch. She added the hot water, and brought the mugs back into the living room. She placed Susan’s mug on the coffee table, then took a seat of her own near the couch. When she was sure she had Susan’s attention, she slowly crossed her legs like she’d seen Sharon Stone do in “Basic Instinct”.

Susan seemed to enjoy the gesture, “So, what would you like to do today? I have all sorts of ideas.”

“I’ll bet you do,” Bridget thought. Out loud she said, “I’ll put myself in your capable hands.”

Susan looked like she was thinking something she wasn’t saying also. She settled for suggesting, “We could take a boat trip on the river?”

“Done that.”

“Oh,” Susan thought it over. “We could tour the BBC studios.”

Bridget nodded, “I haven’t done that.”

“Or we could take in the British Museum.”

“I was just thinking that myself.”

“Well then, it’s settled,” Susan smiled and took a sip of her tea. “Chamomile?”

“Yup.”

Susan took another sip, “It’s quite good.”

Bridget’s mug hid her smile. The powder she’d slipped into Susan’s tea wasn’t a mind control agent per se. It wouldn’t make Susan do anything she didn’t want to do already. But it was quite effective at breaking down inhibitions, and a potent aphrodisiac to boot.

Susan put her mug down and blinked, as if she were suddenly dizzy. She shook her head, and looked back up at Bridget, “I love that t-shirt, by the way. It’s adorable.”

Bridget ran a hand across her chest, “It’s just a shirt.”

“It’s very fetching.”

Bridget smiled sweetly, “Thanks.”

Susan crossed her legs, then re-crossed them. She picked the mug back up and took another sip, “The tea’s rather strong.”

“Do you think so?”

Susan squirmed as if she were uncomfortable. A confused look washed across her face.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Susan whispered.

“Are you sure?”

Susan looked up. Her nipples already looked like they were going to jump out of her shirt, “What were we just talking about?”

“Going to the British Museum?”

“Right,” Susan drank again. “I haven’t been there in years ... and there all sorts of ... pubs ... and such ... get something to eat ...”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Susan took a deep breath, “I’m fine ... just feel a little strange.”

Bridget stood and walked over to Susan. Gently, she placed the back of her hand to Susan’s forehead, “You feel a little ... hot.”

Susan sighed.

Bridget slowly ran her eyes the length of Susan’s body, “Very hot.”

Susan could only gasp quietly.

Bridget cocked her hips slightly. Her crotch now directly in Susan’s line of vision, “You were talking about getting something to eat?”

Susan’s eyes went to the camel toe formed by Bridget’s shorts. Quietly, she whispered, “Eat.”

Bridget was amazed. Susan should have been ripping her clothes off by now. It looked like she was going to have to kick things up a notch. She lowered herself to the couch, straddling Susan. The older woman leaned back, giving Bridget the room she needed. Unconsciously, Susan’s hands cupped Bridget’s ass. Bridget settled her hands on either side of Susan’s head and leaned forward slightly, offering up her breasts.

“Instead of the museum, I have a better idea,” Bridget said quietly, but forcefully. “What do you say we stay in and quit kidding ourselves?”

Susan was panting as Bridget leaned forward. A crimson blush had formed on Susan’s cheeks and spread down the neck and across her chest. Bridget could feel the older breath blowing hot across her face as their lips met.

Susan’s head was spinning. This wasn’t how she’d imagined it would go at all. This new, aggressive Bridget was the last thing she’d expected, but the red head felt so damn good pressed against her. And she wanted Bridget more than she’d wanted anyone. But she couldn’t do this, it was so wrong. Bridget was too young, and what would Claire say? But she’d looked so good in that bathrobe, and so fucking hot in those skimpy shorts and t-shirt. A moan rumbled through Susan’s body, than she realized her tongue was stabbing into Bridget’s mouth.

“Bridget, no,” Susan panted. Bridget responded by planting feathery kisses along Susan’s neck and ears. “Please, we have to stop.”

Bridget straightened up, and for a moment, it looked as if she was going to stop. Susan’s body filled with longing again, and it was all she could do to keep herself from pulling Bridget back onto her. The redhead reached down, and in one smooth motion, pulled her t-shirt off. Susan stared in awe at Bridget’s breasts, and the perfect little nipples that stood at erect attention. Susan had never seen anything more beautiful or desirable in her life. She felt Bridget’s hand snake behind her head and grab a fist full of hair. She felt herself being pulled into one of those breasts, and the last of her resistance crumbled.

Susan took the proffered nipple into her mouth and sucked it in. Bridget moaned with approval. Hearing that, Susan pulled at it harder, using her tongue and teeth. Slowly, Bridget thrust her hips, grinding her box against Susan’s, the motion sending tingles through both their bodies. Susan clutched at Bridget’s ass, but the shorts the redhead wore were so slick and tight she couldn’t get a good grip. Her hands slid up the naked back, pulling the young American close. Bridget was pistoning steadily now, and Susan, incredibly, already felt herself on the verge of orgasm. Suddenly, Bridget stopped and pulled back. Susan could see her lipstick smudged across the wet nipple.

“Let’s go into my room,” Bridget suggested.

“God yes!” Susan agreed. Bridget stood, took Susan by the hand and led the way. Susan followed, her eyes watching the redhead’s ass swing back and forth like a hypnotists watch.

At the foot of the bed, Bridget turned to face her soon to be newest lover. Susan was on her immediately. As they kissed, Susan slipped two fingers into the leghole of Bridget’s shorts. The pussy she found there was slick and hot like a furnace. She felt Bridget unbuckle her belt and slowly pull it off. This was the part of the Susan loved, those last few, sweet moments of anticipation before fantasy became reality.

Next came Susan’s pants. Susan wiggled her hips to help Bridget slid them off. Bridget slid a hand into Susan’s panties. With her free hand, Susan began unbuttoning her shirt. The actions of the two girls became more frantic as they kissed and fingered each other. Susan pulled back, then dropped to her knees.

“Let’s see what we have here, shall we?” she cooed as she tugged on Bridget’s shorts. The redhead reached down to help remove the flimsy garment. Susan’s mouth watered when she saw the now naked Bridget, “Ohhhh, you keep your pussy shaved, you naughty girl! I love it.”

Bridget only smiled and lay back on the bed. Susan stood slowly, never taking her eyes of Bridget. She removed her shirt and casually dropped it to the floor. Her pants went next. She stripped those off one agonizing inch at a time. After removing her bra, she stood at the foot of the bed and massaged her aching breasts and smiled as Bridget mirrored the gesture. Susan took off her glasses and deliberately placed them on the dresser. She strolled to the bed. Bridget lay flat and opened her legs. Susan lowered herself to the young American, fitting her pussy to Bridget’s.

“I’ve wanted to do this from the first time I saw you,” Susan whispered.

“I know, me too,” Bridget answered.

Susan moaned as she rubbed her cunt against Bridget’s. “At last!”

Bridget wrapped her legs around Susan’s hips, “Shut up and fuck me.”

They explored each other’s bodies slowly, kissing, licking and probing gently, sometime Bridget on top, sometimes Susan, sometimes on their sides They allowed their explorations to gather pace, their moans to be come more frantic. Susan hunched forward to allow her mouth access to Bridget’s nipple, using both hands to hold the swollen breast. Bridget arched her back to give that access. Both used short, stabbing motions to keep their pussies pressed together, groaning and panting each time their clits touched. Bridget rolled suddenly, flipping Susan on to her back. Susan knew what that meant and opened her legs wide. The young American dove into Susan’s humid pussy to lap frantically at the sopping folds. Susan used both hands to hold Bridget in place.

“Oh fuck my pussy! Oh yeah … Yeah baby … fuck my pussy! That’s the way! Oh God … you bitch! Oh God do ME! Do me GOOOD!!”

Susan’s cries dissolved into uncontrolled giggles. Licking her lips, Bridget rolled off the bed. Susan stretched like a cat.

“Very nice!”

“Thank you,” Bridget replied modestly as she stepped towards the dresser.

Susan’s hand cupped her twat, “Yes … very nicely done for a first timer.”

“Who said that was my first time?”

Susan’s jaw dropped. Bridget just shrugged.

“You mean …”

“I mean I get a ton of pussy,” Bridget interrupted. “In fact, since I’ve been in London, I’ve been with three other girls.”

“Which three,” Susan asked immediately.

“My friends Laura, Procia and Marise.”

“Marise, hmmmmm? She is a sexy one,” Susan said quietly to herself. “But … you bitch!”

Bridget smiled and pulled out the box Victoria had left for her.

“The way you teased me and flirted with me,” Susan sputtered. “It was all an act? If you knew how many times I frigged myself thinking about you …”

In fact, Bridget knew precisely how many times it was, “If you forgive me, I’ll introduce you to Marise.”

“Forgiven!” Susan exclaimed. “So what’s in the box?”

Bridget pulled out a strap on. Susan’s eyes went wide. Bridget began to fit the device to her hips.

“Stop,” Susan called. “Let me use it on you.”

Bridget paused to think it over. She’d always been the one wearing the dildo. She’d never been penetrated; the prospect scared her more than a little. Then again, one of the reasons she’d come to London was for new experiences. She tossed the dildo to Susan.

By the time Susan had everything in place, Bridget was standing on her knees at the foot of the bed. As Susan tightened the last strap, she gave Bridget her most smoldering look, “Turn around and bend over. I’m going to fuck you properly.”

Bridget did as she was told, her tits pressed into the mattress, her ass high in the air. Susan maneuvered behind her, hands sliding gently along her ass, along her back and ribs. Hands cupped Bridget’s breasts, she lifted herself slightly to accommodate Susan’s clutching fingers. Bridget felt Susan’s weight on her back, she felt Susan’s nipples stabbing into her into her shoulder blades. The dildo slid into the groove of Bridget’s ass; Susan’s hips moved and now the dildo’s shaft pressed against her labia. Susan straightened up, then with a push. The head of the dildo entered Bridget. She felt like the air was being forced out of her.

Susan pushed again, the dildo slid in a few more inches. A third push and it was all the way in. Bridget groaned, Susan chuckled. Susan slowly pulled back, then forced her way forward again. This time the phallus entered in a single stroke. Susan pulled out again and when she pushed, Bridget met the thrust.

Bridget’s head hung over the edge of the bed. Using her elbows, she lifted her body slightly. Again, Susan’s hands found her breasts. When Susan bent over, Bridget felt the dildo enter her at a new angle, it seemed to be impaling her. The sensation of fullness was like nothing she’d ever experienced. She understood why all her lovers loved the dildo, she was liking it herself.

Susan was sawing rapidly into her now. Bridget’s gasps synched with Susan’s thrusts, Susan’s grunts synched with Bridget’s gasps. Susan pulling at Bridget’s nipples now, she whispered sweet, filthy nothings into Bridget’s ear. Bridget could feel her sweat soaked hair plastered to her head. Susan rammed the shaft into her again, and again and again. Bridget was close now, so close to that marvelous point where every sensation would top over and the power of orgasm would course through her body.

“Oh my Lord!” Susan flinched as if she’d been shot. She pulled out of Bridget and scrambled over to the other side of the bed. In a daze, Bridget looked over her shoulder. Susan had covered herself with a sheet, a panicked light in her eyes. She stared at the door. Bridget followed her gaze.

Claire stood in the doorway. Bridget’s stomach seemed to transmute into lead. Then she noticed Claire had bunched the front of her skirt into her fist. Her other hand gently cupped her breast.