The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

With her back against the wall, Sienna Moreno sat crying on the floor of the narrow corridor. She was defeated. Dillon Marse, stood triumphantly over her with his back against the other wall, wearing the instrument of her defeat, the green ring, on the middle finger of his right hand. The front of Sienna’s maid’s dress and the white slip beneath it lay draped over her bent knees and folded between her spread legs.

Because of this, and because of the angle where he stood, Dillon couldn’t see much between her legs. However, at the moment, he didn’t care all that much about looking up her dress. At the moment, despite his heavy breathing, Dillon felt great.

Dillon was exhilarated. He had never felt this charged up before. He was ready to enjoy the spoils of his victory. He was ready to drop down on top of the young maid, rip off her clothes, and fuck her mercilessly. He wanted to stab her over and over again with his hard dick until she screamed. Yet as he was about to just that, suddenly the phrase, “power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely” flashed through his mind, and he hesitated. It was a warning: this is not who he was.

He, for the most part, was not a violent person. Dillon was a geek, and a passive geek at that. If push came to shove, he would shove back, but he usually he did his best to avoid the push. But, he didn’t attack people. He wasn’t a bully. He persuaded them. At worst, he manipulated and took advantage of them, but he did not physically assault them. As Dillon mentally drifted back into reality, he grew aware that his baggy hiking shorts had fallen down to his knees. Only his widely parted legs had kept them from falling all the way to his feet.

Then, as he continued to come down from the feeling of exhilaration, he also took notice of the enormous bulge in his jockey shorts. His stiff cock was pushing the front of his underpants so far out that it had partially opened his fly. Looking back at Sienna, he saw that she too was staring at the jut in his briefs. The look of defeat in her eyes and the tears flowing down her face Dillon scared the hell out him.

Immediately, his penis started to soften, and Dillon pulled his hiking shorts back up. Then, he bent over and reached out to Sienna. The young maid flinched at Dillon’s sudden movement and gasped in surprise but otherwise didn’t move or make a sound.

He wanted to pull her to her feet, but he found that he couldn’t touch her. Sienna’s command was still blocking him. So, he held his ring hand over her head and said, “Sienna, please stand up.”

The ring glowed, and Sienna immediately started to stand up. Her head bumped Dillon’s hand, and Dillon quickly pulled it away as if he had just touched a hot stove. He knew he had to negate her command, but he would wait until she was standing. So, he stood back and allowed Sienna to get to her feet.

Then, he held the ring in front of her teary eyes and said, “Sienna, ask me—no—tell me to touch you.”

The light from the ring colored her face green. Then, after the light faded and her skin had returned to its brownish hue, she opened her mouth and mumbled, “touch me.” Nothing happened. The ring didn’t glow, and Dillon still couldn’t bring himself to touch her. So, he tried again. “Sienna, grab hold of my right arm and command me to touch you.”

Her hand shook as she slowly reached out and grabbed his right arm. “Dillon...touch...me,” she said slowly but firmly. Her crying had almost stopped, but as soon as she spoke, the tears started flowing again. Her breath still smelled of coffee and cigarettes. In fact, overall she smelled of perfume, detergent, and cigarette smoke. However, the ring still did not glow, and he still could not touch her.

“Sienna, demand me to touch you,” he said.

“Dillon, touch me now!” She said, angrily, and wiped the tears out of her eyes.

This time Dillon saw the ring glow. Then, he immediately reached forward and touched her left shoulder. However, the instructions he gave her must have reignited the fight in her, because she suddenly grabbed his arm and pulled his hand off her shoulder. “Sienna, you enjoy my touch,” he said. Green light sparkled in her watery eyes, and she suddenly stopped fighting him. Then, Sienna took a deep breath and closed her eyes. A slight smile spread her lips as Dillon once again placed his hand on her left shoulder.

He then gently grabbed her right breast with his left hand down and began massaging it through her dress and apron. Her will was finally starting to yield, Dillon noted, as she gently sandwiched his right hand in between her left shoulder and left cheek and held his other hand against her breast with both of her hands.

From what Dillon could tell, Sienna wasn’t wearing a bra, only an apron, a dress, and a slip. Upon closer inspection, she concluded that she had at most 2 pound breasts, based upon his assumption that a 36C bra held two 5 pound breasts.

“Sienna,” he said gently, “do not attempt to control my ring or command me without my permission.” The ring glowed, and the young maid nodded, rubbing her cheek and jaw against his hand. “Otherwise, you may speak freely and openly to me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Dillon,” Sienna said dreamily. When, she realized that she could talk again, she opened her eyes. Then, as if remembering the situation, she lowered her shoulder, lifted her head up, dropped her hands to her sides, and stood up straight. She did not cry, and she made no attempts to restrict his actions. Dillon, in turn, released her breast but grabbed the back of her neck with his right hand.

“Please, Dillon,” Sienna said pleadingly, “do not destroy me with your ring. Do not change my identity or make me some empty-headed puppet.” Tears started welling up in her eyes again.

“Relax, don’t worry,” he told her and saw the wall behind her turn green. Then he saw her blink rapidly, and her tears dried up. He paused for second and thought. “First, you will address me as appropriate; as the situation dictates. I am your friend, but I am also a guest, and your patron.” Dillon said.

“You now know that there isn’t anything unusual about my ring,” he continued. “As far as you are concerned, it is just a ring. The fact that it glows is perfectly natural. It is not magical. Neither it nor I control anyone, especially not you.” The ring glowed steadily behind her neck. “You only obey me, because that is what you want to do, and because it is your honor and duty. Others only do what I tell them to do out of love and respect for me. You love and respect me, too.” The wall turned green again.

“Yes, of course, sir,” she said warmly, smiling, “I love and respect you as well.”

“I now want you to tell me your plans for this weekend?” He asked. “Will you be staying here the whole weekend?”

“Yes, of course, sir,” Sienna said, “No, my boyfriend, Trent, and I are going up to Richmond tomorrow for a concert. We’re going to spend the night there and then return on Sunday.”

“Who made the reservations?”

“He ordered the tickets, but I made the motel reservations.”

“How are you going to get there?”

“Trent’s going to drive,” Sienna said. “He’s supposed to come by here around noon and pick me up.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Dillon said. “You need to call the motel and cancel your reservations.” The ring glowed green. Sienna saw it and frowned, but otherwise didn’t react to it.

“But...” she started to say.

“No, you need to cancel those reservations,” Dillon insisted. The ring glowed again. “You and Trent will spend the weekend here with me. You don’t have to tell him just yet. I will do that tomorrow. Do you understand?” Dillon wasn’t all that happy that she had a boyfriend, or that he would be here tomorrow, but having another test subject couldn’t hurt, Dillon figured.

Looking a little hurt, Sienna nodded and then hung her head down low..

“Tell, me, do you smoke?” Dillon asked, ignoring her pout.

“Yes,” Sienna said sullenly, still looking down at his chest, “but I’m down to half-a-pack a day.”

“You drink coffee, too?”

“Yes, sir,” Sienna said, glancing upward briefly. “I had a cup during my break, right before you got here.” Dillon had figured as much. He wondered if he could make her break her habit. It would be an interesting challenge. But, he thought he would wait a while longer before trying.

“When’s your period?” If she answered that question, he figured, then he would know that she was under her control.

Sienna blushed and said uncomfortably, “Dillon....” Then, she stopped as if she wasn’t going to answer. Then she said, “my last one just ended, a few days ago, sir.”

“That’s good,” He said. “What are you?”

“I do not understand,” Sienna said looking down at herself. “I am a woman. I am a maid. I am a student, or I will be come this fall.”

“No, I mean, what race are you, or where are you from? I mean, I’m an American of Anglo-Dutch ancestry.” In addition to being an archeologist, Dillon was something of an anthropologist and was rather interested in such things.

“I am Mestizo from Costa Rica,” she said. “I am part Spanish, part Mayan.”

He nodded. “Do you love me?”

Without hesitation, she said, “yes, sir.”

“Do you want to fuck?” Dillon asked, and steeled himself for her outburst.

“Not especially,” Sienna said simply with a slight shrug of her shoulders. “But, I do love you, and if that is what you wish to do with me, then I will do it. You do not have to rape me: I will not resist you.”

“But, you don’t want to,” Dillon said softly, ashamed by her remark about rape.

Again, Sienna shrugged indifferently. “No, I do not like fucking; I like making love. I do not want to just take off my clothes and have a cock shoved up my pussy, if you will please excuse my language, sir.” This time, it was Dillon who shrugged indifferently.

“That is the whore’s way, and I do not like being a whore. I love you, but I do not know you all that well,” she continued. “I would like to get to know you better before we had sex. If we sat down, had a few drinks, had some dinner, and got to know each other better; then I would be happier about sharing my bed with you.”

“I see,” Dillon said and brought his ring hand up stroke his chin thoughtfully, “thank you for your honesty. Now, remove your apron and your dress.” The ring shone brightly. Dillon saw her glance at the ring as her eyes widened, but then she looked back at Dillon.

“Here?” She asked in surprise and a good deal of disappointment, but she quickly began removed her apron. “I would like to undress in a more private place, sir.”

“I understand, but this is more a test of your obedience than a desire to see you undress,” Dillon said.

“I see,” she said tentatively. Then, she shrugged again and reached back to unzip her dress. Suddenly, a thoughtful expression crossed her face, she turned her back to him.

“Would you please unzip me, sir,” she said. Dillon stepped up directly behind her, pushed aside her long black ponytail, and pulled the zipper of her black dress down to the small of her back. Then, he stepped back, and she turned around to face him again. “Gracias, Dillon,” she said with a coy smile.

Making sure that she didn’t remove anything else—namely her slip -with the dress, she pulled her maid’s uniform from her shoulder and gently lowered it to the floor. She then stepped out of the dress, picked it up and neatly draped it and the apron over the crook of her left arm. Then, she stood up straight and faced Dillon wearing a white silk slip, dark brown stockings and black pumps.

Looking at the stockings, Dillon asked, “what are you wearing: panties, pantyhose, stockings, garters, or what?”

“I am wearing pantyhose,” she informed him.

“Show me,” he said. The ring glowed.

With her dress and apron still draped over her left arm, Sienna grabbed the hem of her slip with her right hand and pulled it up until she revealed her crotch to Dillon. True enough, Sienna wore pantyhose. However, they weren’t the homogeneous, nearly transparent, nylons Dillon was familiar with and had hoped she was wearing. These were literally panty-hose They were silk panties with silk stockings attached, and the panties were black and opaque: effectively masking Sienna’s pubic area. Dillon was greatly disappointed that he couldn’t see what he had hoped to see.

“Take them off,” Dillon said, and the ring glowed again.

However, Sienna did not move. “Sir?” She asked. “Take off my pantyhose?”

“No,” Dillon said impatiently, “take off the slip.” He, of course, could have told Sienna to remove her pantyhose (and her shoes), but he had another idea, especially given her speech on fucking.

When her slip lay with her dress and her apron on the floor, Dillon took a moment to carefully study Sienna’s near naked form: she now only wore her panty-hose and shoes. Looking at her meager breasts, Dillon still couldn’t understand how some folks could compare breasts to fruit.

To him, Sienna’s boobs looked like a couple of leather bags growing out of her chest. In essence, he supposed that’s what they were: literally milk bags, and each bag had two large brown buttons on the front. However in Sienna’s case, she looked like she had a couple of quart-sized bags but with only a pint of milk in each of them.

Not that Dillon was disappointed in the Sienna’s bust size, he liked boobs of all size. He was just making an observation as the geek that he was. More importantly, he had come up with another methodology for comparing boobs. Instead of comparing them by assumed weight or as fruit, he would compare them by assumed volume, or at least until he came up with a new methodology.

“Do you like what you see?” Sienna asked pointedly. Dillon blushed. He had been staring, and Sienna had caught him and called him on it.

“Very much so,” he said honestly. “Would you like to take off your pantyhose?”

“No, not here,” she said plainly, “but what I want is not as important as what you want. Do you want me to take them off for you.” Instinctively, she slipped her thumbs inside the top of her panty-hose in preparation for his instructions.

“No,” Dillon said, “not now. Instead, I want you to step forward.” Pleasantly surprised, Sienna stepped forward.

“Now, turn and face the door.” Sienna immediately did as Dillon commanded. She now stood a couple of feet away from the door that led to the kitchen and her bedroom. Dillon stood behind and to the right of her. “Spread your legs,” Dillon said. Sienna took a deep breath and began to slowly move her feet away from each other.

When she had spread her feet wider than her shoulders, he told her to stop. “Lean forward and place the palms of your hands against the door,” Dillon told her. Sienna did as instructed and bent forward with her arms straight in front of her until her hands touched the door.

“Damn, you’ve got a nice ass,” Dillon told her, looking at her silk covered rump. The panties of her pantyhose were French-cut so that the small of her back, her crack, her crotch, and her lower belly were covered in opaque material. Everything else, from Sienna’s buttocks to her toes was covered translucent, nearly transparent, material.

“Thank you,” Sienna said and stared at the floor beneath her, waiting for Dillon. Dillon did not keep her waiting long, and she gasped in surprise as Dillon placed his hands on her tightly sheathed buttocks. Her shock quickly became pleasure as Dillon’s hands massaged her fleshy seat for several seconds before gliding down to her outer thigh and around to her inner thigh. He then brought his left hand up past her silken crotch, her fleshy belly, and up to her right breast. There, he began stroking and toying with her quickly hardening nipple.

Simultaneously, Dillon slid his right hand up her silken inner thigh to her crotch where he began rubbing and massaging her cunt. Also at the same time, he pressed the hard bulge in his pants up between her buttocks. This triple attack made her moan passionately, and he could feel the crotch of her panty-hose getting wet.

Dillon was amazed that his own crotch wasn’t wet. A week ago, if he had been in a similar situation, it would have been saturated with his semen. Now, aside from his hard cock trying to push cotton and silk up Sienna’s ass, he felt more in control of his sexual state. Thinking of that control, Dillon figured that now, while her resistance was greatly sapped, he would use the opportunity to completely subjugate her will.

“When you orgasm, it will be the best you’ve ever had,” Dillon said. “In fact, it will be a life-changing orgasm. You will always remember who gave it to you, and you will be so grateful that you would do anything for Dillon Marse without question or hesitation. You will still work for President White and his family, and you may work for others in times to come. However, they are only renters and users of your service. Your heart and soul belong to God, but your mind and body belong to me.”

“You now remember the truth about the ring,” Dillon continued and started rubbing his ring against her clit. Suddenly, Sienna lifted her head, but all Dillon heard was a moan of ecstasy. “It is a magical ring. It is a powerful ring. Every time you see it glow, you will be happy. You do not fear either the ring, the power, or Dillon. You know that Dillon loves you and only has your best interest at heart. You will tell no one about the ring or the power that comes from it. You will not reveal the truth about the ring. You will tell all who ask that it is ‘just a ring.’”

Dillon saw Sienna nod repeatedly and enthusiastically. Sweat poured down her back, from her face. Dillon’s cock was still hard as a rock and pounding the front of his cotton briefs against the black silk hiding Sienna’s asshole. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, but his mind was clear. He was in control of himself and Sienna. To prove this, he said, “You will now orgasm; you will now experience....”

Dillon never finished because at that moment, Sienna came forcefully; her shriek of ecstasy echoed down the corridor and through the mansion. She would have crashed to the floor if she hadn’t been in Dillon’s embrace. As it was, he struggled to hold her up: she weighed a lot more than he would have guessed. So, he gently—or as gently as he could—lowered her unconscious body to the floor and positioned her so that she lay propped up against the small corner where the wall met the doorsill.

“I see you’re making yourself at home,” a familiar voice said from behind Dillon. Dillon stood from the squatting position he was in and turned to face the source of the voice. There, standing beside the bottom of the staircase, was his old pal, Jeremy White. He was standing with his arm around a red-headed young woman Dillon had never seen before.