The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Clara’s reflection confirmed that she was not ready for this date. Or really any date.

The outfit was fine—good even. The slacks fit her hips nicely, and the sweater was tight enough to showcase her curves without being lewd. Those curves were fine too. Brian had done a number on her self-esteem. But the sessions with Pooja had been really helpful, and she’d worked hard to remind herself that she was a good looking, smart, funny woman, with a lot to offer the right guy.

And she believed that. But her eyes were still, thoroughly, unconvinced. They looked back at her with a nervous, vulnerable sadness. They said with conviction; “Ignore those date clothes. This woman doesn’t want to be here. She will not go back to your apartment. She will not give you a good night kiss. She is going to scurry back to her house and her American Idol. And maybe her vibrator. If she can overcome her embarrassment about that last one.”

Clara sighed. She just wasn’t there. A Catholic upbringing, a Catholic marriage without much love and without any sex the last ten years…she wanted to get in touch with her desires and her pleasure, as Pooja said. But it was a long haul. And right now her desires were mostly to beat a retreat.

She took a breath. She should march out there, finish desert, and then just tell Martin she’d had a good time but she wasn’t ready to be out here yet. He seemed nice enough; sweetly nervous himself really. She could have done without the enthusiastic discussion of the virtues of One-Thump Man, or whatever that cartoon series he’d talked about was. She’d keep her mind focused on the boringness rather than the sweetness when she told him she was heading home.

She turned and found herself face to face with the single most stunning woman she had ever seen. Dressed in…a fetish nurse outfit? Red vinyl boots, tight shiny black skirt with a red cross on the thigh, bare stomach and a wisp of a top that barely held in the cleavage.

So much cleavage. Clara was decidedly not sexually interested in women, but she found herself having trouble looking away. Her mouth was dry.

“Uh...,” she said. “Sorry.” Then helplessly, “Is there a costume party?”

The woman laughed and smooooothed her hand down the skirt. “Oh, no. I’m a therapist! I thought I should dress the part.” She licked her lips. “Do you like it?”

“Yes,” Clara said, before her brain caught up with her eyes, watching that hand. She felt herself swallow. “I mean, it looks very…very?” Her language centers slowly processed. “A…therapist? Your client is…?” she waved helplessly towards the stalls, which was not the place you’d usually hide a client, but who knew?

“I’m your sex therapist. You can call me Thea!” she said brightly. “Pooja called me in as an emergency consultant so your hot date would go hot.”

“I…Pooja? My…date? With Martin? I’m…I’m just…”

“Yees,” Thea said. “Martin.” She shivered, doing impossible things to the impossible cleavage. She adjusted herself frankly. “You like him, right? Martin? And his cock?”

Clara blinked, or tried to. It was tricky with Thea’s cleavage there. “I haven’t even seen…uh…Martin’s…”

Thea giggled. “Wow, you really are a frigid bitch, huh? Most women by now I’d have them drooling and cumming at the thought of Martin’s cock. But that’s okay! This is why we asked Pooja for someone who needs help! We will help and then you will drool and cum. Come here, baby.” She took Clara’s hand and turned the palm gently upwards. Then she licked it. Clara shivered.

“What,” she said, helplessly. Thea kept hold of her hand and moved it down, down, under that ridiculous skirt, and then up. There were no panties. Thea was soaked; there was no resistance as she shoved the hand in. The thighs clenched, and Thea came, quietly but obviously. She held Clara’s hand inside her and kept pumping on it.

“You feel me around you, yes?” she said. Her voice was breathy. “mmm.”

“I need to…should leave,” Clara said. And then involuntarily, “mmm.”

“Oh, yes, I know you feel it. Cunts are perfect. They should be in control. It’s in control of you. Feel your cunt as you feel my cunt baby. Yes, that’s right, get your hand in there. Now,” her lips were on Clara’s ear. The words were hot and slick, like her cunt. “Your problem is you’re too much in your head. You need to sit back and let other…parts take control.”

Clara’s other parts were in fact grinding helplessly against Thea’s hand.

“Try thinking with your cunt for a while, okay? Wet. Hot. Needy. When you have to make a choice, do what your cunt wants. You know it won’t steer you wrong and it will take you all sorts of fun places. And you will know they’re fun because your cunt tells you. Right? Tell me with that pretty little mouth, honey.”

Clara’s brain felt sluggish and weird, like it was trying to speak to her through molasses. Hot, thick molasses. It was trying to protest, but it felt distant and disconnected. She tried to say something but her mouth was already moving elsewhere. She felt the slick vinyl against her tongue, and then smelled the warm, humid folds. Her brain felt vaguely embarrassed, but she wasn’t thinking with it anyway.

Clara pursed her lips in the mirror after fixing her make-up. She looked good. And she felt good. Really good. Almost high. Or like she’d just come really hard like a good cunt should.

She thought about Pooja’s advice. “Get a giant cock in your ass, Clara, and then you’ll feel less like a frigid bitch.” Or something like that. Her forehead crinkled in the mirror in confusion for a moment and then she felt her tight vinyl skirt pressing hard against the sink, right there and her crinkles disappeared.

She sashayed out of the bathroom, feeling her hips swivel around in her hot, slick brain. Martin was sipping his beer and looking at his phone, which was not where he should be looking. She cleared her throat and leaned over to give him an eyeful of her cleavage. His beer snorked out satisfyingly.

“Clara!” he said. “Oh my god.”

She blushed. Then she was worried he’d think she was embarrassed, so to reassure him she leaned across the table and kissed him. It was going to be a friendly, first-time kiss but then she got there and she couldn’t quite stop. Her tongue found its way into his mouth. Her thighs were squeezed tight together. Her hand brushed her nipple.

Martin finally pulled away. He was breathing heavily.

“Well,” he said. “I guess Thea talked to you. She told me she’d surprise me.”

“Thea?” Clara said blankly. The name was vaguely familiar; she could feel it floating around in her forebrain somewhere. It seemed important. She remembered looking in the mirror and then…she looked down. Where were her slacks?

“This is…something’s not right?” she said hesitantly. “I’m not supposed to be…” She’d just kissed a man she barely knew. With a lot of tongue. While feeling herself up. And planning to suck him off.

“I think I need to go,” she said. Martin’s startled face floated somewhere nearby and gone. She was in a cab. She was going to say her home address. But her thoughts slipped through her fingers hot and slick.

“I need to start thinking with my slutty cunt,” she said. She met the driver’s eyes again and licked her lips. She wasn’t sure if she’d said it out loud.

“I think with my slutty cunt!” she shouted. She knew she said it out loud that time, but it didn’t matter because the music was pounding. She was tangled up with some slim, young guy. She could tell he liked her dress because he kept grabbing her ass. She thought about telling him to stop but his dick was so hard and she didn’t want to discourage him. Instead she pushed up against it. He grunted, and she thrust up against him again. He tasted like cigarettes.

She was bent over a sporty little car. Someone was rolling up her skirt. Her cunt was extremely wet. She felt her nipples, hard pebbles against the hood. She felt the tip at her lips and thrust back against it, moaning.

She felt him jerking inside her. She tightened and the orgasm hit, like a wave. She thrust against him, squeezing her breasts. Eventually it stopped. She lay there, feeling hot and slick and perfect.

Eventually someone else was at her opening. She grunted in acknowledgement and began to thrust again.

“Holy shit!” Martin said as Clara staggered into her apartment. She was wearing only her bra and that slick, tight skirt, now slicker with various fluids that did not bear close investigation. She stood blinking at him and Thea with slow, confused curiosity.

“What are you doing here?” she said. “How do you know where I live? How did you get in?” She paused. “Also my cunt says I should ask if you want to fuck.” A slow grin spread across her face. “Want to fuck?” Then she pitched forward.

“Thea!” Martin said. “What in God’s name did you do to her?! We were supposed to take her back here and fuck! And instead she’s…” he pushed her lightly with his foot. She made a noise, half protest, half snore.

Thea walked over to stand beside Martin, which, given the way her hips moved in the skin-tight jump suit, made it somewhat hard to remember to be angry with her. He’d had practice though. And he managed it again when she giggled.

“You’re laughing!? You’ve…you’ve broken her! She ran away and fucked everyone! Except me! And fucking me was the point!”

“I’m pretty sure you could still fuck her if you wanted,” Thea said. “But maybe we should shower her down first. I could suck you off while we soap her…?” She leaned over and fondled Martin’s cock idly through his jeans. When she found out it was hard, she stopped being idle quickly. One hand started undoing his belt; the other shifted to find his balls beneath the fabric.

Martin grabbed both her wrists. “Thea, can we stop for just a second? What did you even do to her?”

“I just told her that she was a frigid bitch who needed to stop thinking with her brain and start thinking with her cunt. And it looks like her cunt thought she should get fucked all the time.” She smiled with sincere, lascivious appreciation. “That’s my kind of sweet cunt.”

Martin took a breath. “Okay. Well, let’s wake her up, and you tell her to start thinking with her brain again and we can just chalk this up as a learning experience. You need to be less…er…global with your slutifying. Maybe just suggest they like sex a little more next time…?”

“Oh fuck that,” Thea said. She started to pull the jumpsuit down. Her enormous breasts sprang free, nipples erect, accusing, and determined. “Look at her. She was afraid to give you a kiss, all shy and repressed and getting none, and I stuffed her brain full of cunt and lust, and now she is covered with cum and fucked out of her mind—and!” she stepped out of the material, her trimmed cunny obviously very wet.

“And!” she said again, “you obviously think it’s incredibly hot. You haven’t been this hard in a week. Since I made Pooja beg you to fuck her daughter while she watched.” Thea smirked. “You say you want to be an ethical erotic mind controlling fuck master, but your dick likes it when I degrade them for you. Clara! Wake up Clara!”

Martin was trying to look stern but it wasn’t easy with that erection and his eyes glued to Thea’s tits. “What are you doing?” he said, half warily, but with an undeniable edge of interest.

Clara moaned. Thea leaned down, making sure Martin got a good look at her puffy, very aroused naked cunt. “Clara, baby,” she said. “I need you to eat me out while Martin fucks your slutty cunt brain good and hard okay? And if you’re good we’ll take you out on a leash and find you a whole bunch more dicks to drain.”

Clara’s eyes flickered open. Her tongue started to explore as soon as Thea’s cunt descended. Her hand worked at her own lips, her legs spread, offering herself.

“See?” Thea said as Martin entered her. “I’ve fixed her frigidity. Pooja will be proud!”