The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Stanley sat in the slow hotel bar room. Perched on a high bar stool, elbows on the counter, he held a small glass of vodka and coke in one hand. Eyeing it in boredom as he tipped it from left to right, watching the contents slosh about. He couldn’t figure out his bad luck.

He was dressed in his best clothes. A plaid sports jacket with brown dress shirt beneath. His large black leather belt with a metallic cow buckle, and his favorite shiny flared pants. His normally dull brown hair was slicked back to a shine and he’d shaven extra close that morning.

Which reminded him, he reached up and pulled off several pieces of toilet paper he’d stuck to shaving cuts. “Damn,” he swore taking another swig of his drink. He’d struck out five times with four different women in the last half hour. And that last woman didn’t have to slap him so hard. “Frigid chicks, they just don’t know what they’re missing,” he drank again.

Around him the bar and expansive lounge area held about twenty customers, but no one was sitting near him anymore. As if he gave out some negative vibe. It was about 11 p.m. and with this the last day of his five day business trip over, he intended to get thoroughly plastered.

He haunted the bar each night almost religiously, but hadn’t been able to get truly hammered because of work the next morning. Tonight, he just wouldn’t forgive himself if he didn’t stumble out drunk. Besides, if he got sloshed he couldn’t blame himself for not scoring.

He finished his glass and motioned for the bartender with a grunt. “Did I tell you advertising sucks?” he said to the bartender and looked off into the mirrored glass back of the bar.

“Yeah,” the barman poured him another drink uncaring and moved off.

Stanley watched himself in the reflection of the mirror before returning to his drink. He, of course, had no idea he’d be getting exactly what he wanted real soon.

Upstairs on the fourth floor, Patricia stood before room 431. She’d applied extra lipstick, eye-shadow and rouge, creating a sluttish appearance. Her black, shiny hair cascaded all the way down her back to her ass. She’d used her hair dryer and a large amount of spray to give her hair a thick, fluffy look.

She was hardly dressed at all. Wearing a vinyl reflective black brassiere, her emerald pendant, a black shoulder bag and an agonizingly tight leather mini-shirt that was almost illegal. Black nylons covered her long legs, leading down her black high heels. But most interesting was the chloroform soaked cloth wad that she held in one hand.

The moaning from within the room stopped as she pounded on the door again. She could hear a woman’s voice telling her harshly to “fuck off”. She knocked again.

The door eventually opened. A tall redhead, about the same size and proportion of Tricia, pulled open the door angrily. She held a large hotel towel against her breasts, pushing her already impressive endowments upward. The towel tangled down her front just past her pussy.

“I have this one already, fuck off,” she spoke quietly but forcefully, turning about to shut the door as Tricia forced her way into the room’s short entrance hall. To the right was the washroom door and further on the room itself. The bed lay beyond the hallway, off to the right and almost out of sight. She could see the man’s feet sticking out the bottom of the bed.

Tricia pulled the door from the redhead’s grasp, shut it quickly but without force, and grabbing the girl by the back of the neck threw her headfirst into the bathroom. She heard her trip and fall to the floor with a small thud.

The man called something out, and Tricia replied quietly, “Washroom. Just a sec.” She followed the girl in, closed the door and turned on the light. The chloroform cloth still in one hand.

The beautiful redhead was standing back up, the towel lost to reveal her heavenly body. “Who... mmpfh!” the redhead was interrupted as Tricia plunged forward, forcing the cloth over her nose and mouth. A hand went behind the woman’s back and Tricia pushed her up to a wall.

The redhead struggled violently, hands clawing up at Tricia’s solid grip. Gasping for fresh air and trying to pull the hand away. Moaning, she tried to call out beneath the cloth. Her eyes were wide as she thrashed about, but Tricia’s hold was much stronger and she kept her pinned to the wall.

Tricia stared into the girl’s terrified eyes as her movements became sluggish. Her eyes looked heavy and tired. Her loud muffled voice became softer moans of quiet resistance. Tricia smiled as she watched the dopey expression form on the girl’s face, her features relaxing as she continued to inhale the heady vapors.

The girl’s strength faded away and she sagged limply in Tricia’s arms. Tricia lowered her slowly to the ground, a hand holding the cloth pressed against her mouth and nose.

No strength left in her body the redhead lay on the floor, her head moving about feebly trying to get away from the sweet smell that was robing her of her strength. Her eyelids fluttered rapidly, eyes rolling back in her head. Then they closed quickly as the girl succumbed with one small lurch and a final soft moan.

Tricia stood up and took the cloth with her. First adjusting herself in the bathroom mirror, she turned the lights out behind her and left. She placed her hand bag by the bathroom door and took off her pendant and laid it atop it. Then she stuffed the chloroform soaked rag down into her brassiere, snugly and out of sight between her breasts.

She walked around the corner to the bed. The man was lying on the bed looking a little distressed. He was completely naked, but he was also blindfolded and each hand was handcuffed to a bed post. Very tall, at maybe 6′4″. By his build he looked like a Chip ’n Dales dancer. Normally well combed, short hair was a mess, and his rugged chiseled features looked oddly confused in a situaion he had truly lost control off. She watched his erection surge betraying his obvious aroused state. It was still strong and glistening, vaginal fluid coating it.

He turned towards her as she walked over to the bed.

“Sorry, she had to step out for a moment for a breath of fresh air. Now it’s my turn.” The man said nothing, possibly confused or afraid. Tricia reached back and unzipped her leather skirt, sliding it down to the floor. Stepping over it and out of her shoes, now in just her brassiere and stockings, she climbed onto the bed.

Her smooth lips smashed into his savagely, surprising him with their intensity. Her hands swept over his well defined arms and chest as she leaned in kissing him, balancing in a kneeling position beside him.

He responded slowly, but finally forcefully as well, his head trying to lift up off the pillow to kiss her harder. His arms pulled tightly at his handcuffs.

She swung a leg over him, straddling across his waist. Then with a free hand guided herself back on his eager rod. It plunged into her, his mind envisioning it in the blackness of his blindfold. Unable to fully move, unable to see, all he could do was concentrate on his sense of touch as she moved back and forth on him.

When she felt him begin to tense up, she stopped completely. His hips wiggled up and down, trying to keep it going as she withdrew off him. “No!” he half screamed.

She rolled onto her side next to him. Watching him pant, his bulging cock almost on the edge of the precipice. He waited, but she didn’t move. She sat there in the silence watching him slowly relax without satisfaction, his cock loosing shape.

She sat up cross legged on the bed beside him and faced his groin. Looking to her right over at his head she took in his expected look after feeling her move.

But she just sat there and waited. His dick stirred slightly expectantly, but after nothing ensued it weakened and collapsed again.

It was then she reached quietly over and began to stroke the outside of his cock with the back of a single fingernail. Stroking it softly and lightly. A small droplet of pre-cum pushed out of his penis as it began to take shape. A sign of how close he had been before.

Her hand encircled the base of his penis and she leaned over and took him in her mouth. The taste of herself strong on him. Holding him there, her tongue played over his penis. Encircling it and licking it. He moaned loudly from her ministrations.

She stopped again and pulled away. A string of saliva and pre-cum trailed from her mouth. She tossed her hair back with a flick of her head, then swept her mouth clean with the back of her hand. “Gotta go,” she said cheerfully.

Tricia bounced of the bed. He thought she was joking. She walked over the pile of clothes the redhead had been wearing.

She left her brassiere on, but peeled off her stockings. Then shrugged on the redhead’s pinstripe barmaid shirt and buttoned it halfway up, leaving a large “v” to expose her chest. Then she pulled on Red’s slacks and short heeled shoes. She’d chosen the barmaid well. They were almost the same size.

She took off the name tag and peeled off the sticker. Then went to her bag, pulled out the small plastic name tag gun and punched out her name. Placing it on, she adjusted the tag back on her shirt.

“Come on, bitch! Enough fucking around,” he was angry now. He was more sure of himself than he should be. The bed posts creaked as he strained at his bonds.

She climbed on the bed on all fours and aligned her breasts with his head. He thought he could smell something sweet, perhaps her perfume. Then, balancing on one hand, she took her other hand and worked it behind the back of his head and lifted it up, placing his nose and mouth into her cleavage. Pressed in firmly, he coughed instinctively.

He could barely breathe as the strong smell of chloroform invaded his lungs. She held him there, forcing him to breathe hard to get the air. Feeling his breath rushing between her breasts. His arms strained at his bonds and his legs thrashed about, but she held his head firmly in place.

He held in quite long before succumbing to the powerful anesthetic. His body relaxed totally beneath her while she held his loose head to her breasts. Slowly she lowered it to the pillow and kissed him softly. The strong taste of chloroform on her lips. She suddenly remembered how much she loved the smell of chloroform. She sat up on his chest, legs to either side and watched his peaceful face.

She had time. She reached between her breasts and pulled out the chloroform rag and after folding it better, applied it to her own face and mouth. She breathed in willfully, letting its smell penetrate into her lugs. Breathing deeply and openly she felt the world grow hazy and spin around her. Her hand fell free with the cloth as she toppled backward onto the bed into blissful sleep.

Just ten minutes later, she was the first to awaken. Her amazon body was much more resilient to the chloroform.

Climbing slowly off the bed she went to the bathroom and ogled at the redhead sleeping soundly as she entered. Over by the sink, Tricia threw some water on her face. Then with a hand towel, carefully removed her excess prostitute style makeup. That image was no longer required.

Outside she retrieved the cloth and chloroform bottle and placed them beside the sleeping girl. She took the now drying cloth and laid it on the girl’s mouth. When it had all dried away she’d wake up, and the bottle was her present. With such a present she wasn’t likely going to be reporting this to anyone.

Tricia went back out and took her purse. She left the room to go down to the hotel barroom. Quarter to midnight, she saw on a hallway clock. She hoped he was till there.