The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“... And five, feeling fully awake. There, how do you feel?”

She blinked, looking around slowly. Her brain felt like it was packed in cotton. “Fuzzy ...”

“But good?”

Her eyes scanned from one wall to another. She was in ... his apartment? Someone’s apartment. It didn’t seem familiar—but presumably his. Mark’s? Matt’s? What was his name?

He’d asked something. What was it. “... Yes,” she nodded gently, as if remembering how. “Good.”

“That’s good.” He smiled, and his smile was warm. She smiled back, instinctively. It felt good to smile. It made her relax a little more, and feel that everything was all right.

He was turning on the electric lights—a switch here, a switch there—and coming back to the couch to blow out the candle while she breathed deeply, waiting for the daze to subside. She still felt like she wasn’t quite back in her body. In her mind.

“Let me pour you another drink, I’d like to talk to you a little more,” he said. “You’d like that too.”

She looked at the little table in front of them, where there was an empty glass, with one mostly-melted ice cube left. “Yes, that would be nice,” she said automatically, but as he moved to the kitchen, she started to get nervous. When had she drunk the first drink? And what was in it? There was a fruity taste in her mouth, but she couldn’t quite place it.

Her memories of the last couple hours were hazy indeed—no recollection of meeting this man, of coming to his apartment for a cocktail, yet here she was ... She told herself the memories would come back once she woke up a little, but still, she was feeling nervous.

“I-I should probably get going,” she called, and stood, on wobbly feet.

“Nonsense, you just got here!” She could hear ice cubes, a glass, those little metal tongs, as she tottered toward his door. “Give me a few more minutes.”

“I’d like to ...” she said, and knew it was true. “But I ...”

She had a hand on the doorknob, but stood looking at it stupidly, without turning.

“I really can’t stay ...” she murmured.

“But, kitten, it’s cold outside,” he said, moving toward her with a tumbler in hand.

She stared at the doorknob. How did it work, again?

“I’ve got to go ‘waaaay,” she whined.

He laid a palm against the door, looking at her with a patronizing grin. “Aww, but princess, it’s cold outside ...”

She rounded on him, concentrating on finding a scrap of desperate anger. “This evening has been—”

“I’m hoping—” and he chimed the tongs against the glass with a ting—“it’s been...?“

She sighed, relaxing her shoulders. “So very nice ...” she grinned softly, as her anxiety fled again.

“Come, take my hand,” he said as he led her docilely toward the sofa again. “Now, do you want ice?”

She stopped, her eyes going wide. “My mother! She’ll start to worry ...”

“Dutiful.” He nodded approvingly. “But there’s no hurry,” he added, crossing to the fireplace.

“And my father will be pacing the floor ...” she said distractedly, as she instinctively followed him.

He gestured to the dancing, hypnotic flames. “But look at that fireplace roar ...”

“So really,” she started, but the fire caught her eyes, and she sank slowly to her knees in front of it. “I ... I’d better scurry ...” she barely whispered.

“Beautiful ...” She heard him moving closer as she stared into the flames. “Now, see? No hurry.”

“Well, maybe just a ... a half a drink more ...”

She raised a hand, and a cool glass was put into it. “Sip this and count backwards from four,” he instructed.

She sipped. Relaxed further. It really was quite nice here. No reason to put her clothes on yet. She sipped again.

Clothes ... There was a thought there, but she couldn’t quite access it.

After a timeless time, she swam upwards, inside herself, to some internal surface, to find words. Licked her lips. “You know, the neighbors might think—”

He was looking out the window. Had he been saying something? Just a moment ago?

He chuckled. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s bad out there.”

She hiccupped. Peered muzzily into her glass. “Say, what’s in this drink—”

He shrugged, walking toward her. “Cranberry and vodka. The pear ...”

She swayed, started to fall sideways, and he hurried to catch her. She ended up lying on her back, her head in his lap, as he looked down on her. “I wish I knew how—”

The fire was reflected in her eyes as he brushed her hair from her face. “Your eyes are like starlight now,” he whispered.

“—to break this spell ...”

He rubbed a thumb across her forehead. “I’ll take your mind ...”

“Hmmm?”

“I said your hair looks swell.”

He leaned over her. His eyes seemed to fill her whole world. She struggled for words, for ... for rationality ...

“I ought to say no, no, no, Sir,” she said limply, but couldn’t even raise an arm.

“Mind if I move in closer?” His eyes grew as he gazed unblinking into hers, inches away from her now. She could feel his warm, sweet breath.

“At least I’m ... gonna say that I tried ...”

Sir? When did she start calling him Sir?

“Ah, but where’s the sense in hurting my pride,” he purred.

With a sudden action she sat up, pushed herself somehow to her knees, getting shakily to her bare feet, and took a wobbling step. “I really can’t stay ...”

“That’s it, kitten,” he said with easy confidence. “Try to hold out ...”

“Oh!” she said in a little voice. Turned, looked down at her hard nipples, cocked her head to one side, and thought hard. “Oh, but it’s ... cold. Out. Side ... ?”

He chuckled, and reached for her. She spun into his arms, her legs bare, her hair a dark parabola in the air. He whispered into her ear as he held her close, but not tightly. Comfortable. He ran a hand down her bare back, and her eyelids fluttered, her mouth opened as her eyes rolled back ...

But by the time she was able to speak, she’d moved again. She was looking out the window. She didn’t remember how she’d got here. Or why her face was so close to the glass, with her bare breasts swaying, the man’s hands on her hips. His cock was stabbing into her repeatedly, and she could feel an orgasm growing—not her first? Maybe?—as she supported herself on the windowsill.

She struggled to get out a few words between the grunts, between the pleasure ...

“I-I-I-I-I simply must go,” she whimpered.

“Wow, you’ve got a stubborn side!” He seemed almost impressed.

“The answer—unh!—is no ...”

“But, baby, it’s cold outside,” he panted.

“This welcome has been ...” she tried to stand, and he lost his angle.

“Oh fuck, let me get it back in ...”

But she turned, pressing her breasts to him. ”So nice, and warm ...“

He took her chin, turning her head. “Look out the window at that storm ...”

The pink in the clouds from the setting sun, glimpsed between the green trees, matched the rosy flush of her bare bosom, reflected in the glass. Yes, obviously a horrible storm out there, she thought.

But still.

“My sister will be suspicious,” she said with an attempt at primness, trying to pull herself together.

He stroked her cheek. “Gosh, your lips look delicious,” he breathed.

“And my brother will be there at the door ...” she tried to continue, as he traced her lips with a fingertip.

“Waves ... upon a tropical shore ...”

She giggled, then tried to look stern. “My maiden aunt’s mind is vish-ulph!!”

After a moment, he came up for air. “Damn, your lips are delicious,” he grinned.

She swayed. “Well maybe just, like, five minutes more ...”

He cupped her bottom with his warm hand, leading her away from the window. “Never such a blizzard before ...”

His fingers slipped inside her pussy from behind, and she squeaked. He passed a hand in front of her face, and she froze. He massaged her dripping clit, thrusting two fingers into her cunt, until her lower half was vibrating. She mewed, and twitched. She was close. He smirked, then snapped his fingers right in front of her eyes.

Suddenly she could move again. She drew a great breath, came to what must have been a difficult decision, and staggered toward the apartment door again.

“I’ve got to get home,” she whined, then stopped, catching sight of herself in the mirror next to the door.

“But, baby, you’d freeze out there,” he said, coming up behind her.

She took in her heaving breasts, her flushed, nude form, her tousled hair, and nodded.

“You’re right. Can you lend me a comb?”

He put his hands on her shoulders, and pressed. “Get down on your knees. Right there.”

“I mean, you’ve really been grand ...”

He moaned. “Oh, it feels so good in your little hand ...”

She looked up at him, dutifully kneeling, and taking his cockhead in her mouth. “But don’t you see—”

“Don’t talk,” he said, wrapping his hands in her hair. “Just do this thing for me ...”

Time slowed while his cock filled her throat. His warm flesh on her tongue was better than thinking. She hummed a mindless tune, and he throbbed in time.

He was almost there, when she overcame an internal struggle she hadn’t even realized she’d been having for just a moment—enough to pull back, saliva strings glistening, and gasp:

“There’s bound to be talk tomorrow!”

His face was red, a vein throbbing, as he fisted his purple-headed cock. “Think of my—my lifelong sorrow ...” came out in a strained voice.

“At least there will be plenty implied,” she added, holding up her breasts, making a target.

“... If you caught nuuh!!—monia and died ...” His hand was a blur, his neck was bulging.

“I really can’t stay,” she giggled, but opened her mouth wide.

“Don’t think I can ... hold out ...”

“Please, Sir, it’s—!”

He exploded. His cum streaked across her face and splattered her breasts.

“OHH!”

It rained down on her cheeks, her nose, her belly.

“How ...”

And he squeezed the last drops onto her tongue.

“Mmm. Nice ...”

He knelt beside her, panting. She used a finger to scoop some of his cum off her nipple, and sucked it into her mouth.

He smiled at her, under his sweat-matted bangs.

She kissed his cheek.

“Actually, now that I think of it,” she said. “I don’t have to be anywhere for the rest of the weekend.”

She giggled as he let out a belly laugh, and they collapsed together on the carpeting, rolling over in front of the fireplace, laughing and kissing.