The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“You…are smoking?”

Dr. Greta Fockson stood just inside her office door, tall, blonde and clean in her sheath sleeveless white dress, transfixed with horror. In front of her, her client, Miss Eva Esmerian stood to one side of the desk, languidly ashing in an empty coffee cup on the desk. She wore a short, obviously expensive green dress and strappy heels, an ensemble which had probably been meant to be flirty by the designer but had veered into blatantly sensual after Eva had poured her curves into it. She flicked her wavy black hair aside as she brought the cigarette to her lips again and blew through her carefully applied lipstick…which curved into a mocking smile.

“Yes. I’m smoking.” She inhaled again, casually. “I smoke all the time. You must be Dr. Fockson?”

Greta was still standing by the door. “I am sorry…perhaps I need to be more explicit? There is no smoking in my office. In the building. It is not a place for smoking. We do not smoke. Ever.”

Eva sat, crossed her legs, and leaned back. It was a pose designed to showcase both legs and chest, and it worked admirably. She took another drag. “So stop me,” she said. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Greta hesitated. She looked at Eva for a minute, stretched out and feline. Then she seemed to come to a decision and walked briskly across the room to her desk. She smoothed her dress under her as she sat. Eva grinned.

“All right, doctor? Figured I could pay enough to make it worth your while?”

Dr. Fockson didn’t seem to hear. “You are trying to stop with the cigarettes? If you will excuse me, you do not seem especially committed to stopping…?”

Eva shrugged…and drew out another cigarette. “I don’t particularly want to quit, no. I enjoy them. And I’m wealthy enough that everybody else has to enjoy them to.” She puckered and blew. Smoke drifted across towards Dr. Fockson, who made a face that did not signal enjoyment. “But…my father is the Esmerian. The banker, you know. He doesn’t interfere much, but…well sometimes he does. It’s best to humor him. So,” she waved vaguely. “My assistant found you on the Internet and here I am. Go on and cure me! Or don’t; I don’t really mind either way. Just so long as daddy sees the bills. If it doesn’t work, he’ll figure you’re just a hack.”

Greta stood again. There was a light haze in the office now, and the smell of cigarettes was overpowering. She was going to have to have the place fumigated.

“I believe I can…cure you,” she said. Her voice had an almost undetectable edge. “You signed the contract, yes?”

Eva’s forehead wrinkled in vague but not especially interested confusion. Greta liked that expression. She had seen it before, but it still always sent a thrill through her. Some things never grow old.

“Contract? There was some paperwork….”

“Yes,” Greta said. “The paperwork. You signed it, yes?”

Leisurely, completely unconcerned. “I suppose so.”

Greta leaned forward and took the cigarette out of Eva’s unresisting hand. “Good girl,” she said. “Now we will cure you.”

Eva bucked in helpless need as Greta slid her hands up her luxurious breasts. The blouse was unbuttoned, the bra…somewhere…her nipples exposed and aching. Greta’s tongue sliding into the hollow of her neck, tracing towards the ear with a series of little nips, patient but hungry.

“You are a spoiled little bitch, aren’t you?” Greta whispered. Her fingers pinched hard. Eva did not think she had ever been so wet in her life. It felt like she had pissed her panties. She wanted to reach up under her dress, find her clit…but Greta had said no. She thrust her ass back, trying to rub Greta’s cunt if she couldn’t touch her own.

“Please…!”

“Say what you are now,” Greta remonstrated.

“I’m…a spoiled little bitch! Please! I need…”

“From now on you will need what I tell you to need, yes?” Greta’s hand slipped from the right breast and moved down, down, down…The fingers seemed to be tracing fire across Eva’s skin; the world seemed to shrink to the delicate touch moving closer, closer —one brush, she knew, just the lightest brush and she would cum, cum for Greta… When the hand stopped on her stomach, she almost screamed with frustration. Greta gave one last nip on her earlope and then stepped back, swatting her ass hard enough to make her naked tits jiggle.

“Not yet, dear,” Greta said. She walked around and sat on the edge of the desk, crossing her legs demurely. Eva stood in front of her, nipples so distended they looked like they would burst. Greta could easily learn forward and suck them…Eva trembled at the thought. Somewhere, vaguely, she wondered why she’d never licked a woman’s cunt before. To be on her knees, under Greta’s clean, white skirt, seemed so clearly where she belonged. She knew Greta was wearing no underwear; she could see the slit, so smooth and clean, like Greta, her tongue moving up it, tasting it as it grew wet, the folds opening beneath her, the exquisite taste…

Greta gave a little giggle which seemed to strobe against Eva’s clit. “Oh, such lovely thoughts! Such lovely impatience! You are going to be such fun, dear.” She leaned forward and kissed Eva on the lips. Eva opened her mouth hungrily, wanting Greta’s tongue, but the doctor had already pulled back, wrinkling her nose.

“Cigarettes…! Ah well, we will fix that now. Your craving for cigarettes…it is gone. Instead…” she hefted Eva’s left breast lightly…“you will crave something else, hmmm? Whenever you want a cigarette, you will not want it, but…ah what? You will see. You will not remember, but you will feel it, your new craving. But do not worry; others will be happy to help you. You will all be surprised how happy, I think. Now,” she uncrossed her legs, “since I do not want to kiss your cigarette mouth, let us put it to use elsewhere, hmmm?”

The rest was just as Eva had imagined it, only better.

“You want to go shopping…here?” Yolanda asked. Her secretary sounded both confused and a little scared—which was about par for the course. Eva liked the help to be a bit, or more than a bit, cowed.

Yolanda was perfect in that regard; she was efficient, reliable, and her compact, thin, boyish body seemed constantly on the verge of disappearing behind her librarian’s glasses. Eva had had a whole series of assistants before Yolanda showed up. Some of them wanted to be friends; some wanted to be employees. Eva didn’t want a friend or an employee; she wanted a servant.

Yolanda had it figured out. Eva would call her at home at 3 in the morning, and she’d get her cigarettes. She’d spend hours scheduling the perfect hotel when Eva traveled, and then she’d reschedule it when Eva decided it wasn’t perfect enough. She’d come with her when Eva was out partying and stay out of sight till Eva needed someone to clean up the vomit. Daddy was paying her, but she never reported back to him.

Every so often Eva would catch a chink in her perfect deference, not so much a flash of rebellion as a blip of intelligence. Like now for instance. That “shopping…here?” was just a little too tremulous, wasn’t it? Yolanda was definitely cowed, but she was also just a tad amused at herself, and at the rich bitch who enjoyed the deference. It stood to reason; it simply wasn’t possible for someone to be that egoless without intending to.

Sometimes when Eva caught that hint of irony, she’d explode — not so much because she was really angry as because she liked to throw a fit now and then, and Yolanda didn’t give her the opportunity that often. She didn’t really feel like it at the moment though. Maybe it was the session with Greta that had left her feeling tranquil. And there was something in the way Yolanda looked up at her over her clunky librarian glasses…the calculated subservience of it. The short black hair, pale coloring, white blouse and straight grey skirt; tasteful, but designed not to upstage the boss. She looks kind of hot, Eva thought in surprise.

She was even more surprised when she said it out loud.

“That outfit is kind of hot, Yolanda.”

Yolanda’s jaw dropped, literally. She looked as if she’d been hit in the face with a fish.

“What?” she said.

Eva didn’t know what. She felt…weird. Ever since the session with Greta. Which had gone fabulously; she hadn’t even imagined it could be so good. So very good. But now she felt…she realized she was staring at Yolanda’s blouse—or at the small tits under the blouse. Which were nice tits… Eva gave a half little flap and ducked into the store.

Which was weird too. Not the ducking into, per se. The store itself. She’d been to Treasures of Pleasure once or twice as a lark — it’s where she’d gotten her much-loved Hitachi Wand—but it certainly wasn’t where she’d intended to go when she’d planned some clothes shopping for this afternoon. But somehow when she’d dragged herself away from Greta’s lovely…office, she’d just felt she had to find something a little more….

Daring?

Whorish?

She found herself standing in front of a mannequin wearing a French maid outfit. Some sort of droning goth music was playing way too loud. It was hard to think. Through the thudding, droning, bored vocalist intoning, she saw herself in the costume. She could feel the smooth fabric against her skin. She imagined Greta, for some reason, flipping up the shockingly short skirt. Greta was explaining to her exactly what she needed….

“Looking for something naughty, dear!” The sales clerk shouted cheerfully as she bustled up. She had a plump face and a comfortingly boxy figure. She could have been a grocer except for the incongruous red rubber dress. She swayed slightly to the music. Her bosom wiggled.

Eva had to ask her to repeat herself.

The saleswoman laughed. “I was just saying it’s one of the classics. The maid costume! But still popular! I can get you one to try on…oh, is this the lucky girlfriend?”

Yolanda choked loud enough that even the goth idiot singing couldn’t drown her out. Eva made a noise too, but she was pretty sure no one heard, thankfully.

What the hell was wrong with her? She needed a cigarette. She reached for her purse, then remembered…

Greta had had her throw them out. One by one. Counting…what had she been counting? She realized, distantly, that her ass was sore—had been sore for a while. A dull red ache. Kind of sexy. She shifted, very aware suddenly of the rawness of her cheeks…

She didn’t need a cigarette. She needed…

She was in the dressing room, getting out of her dress. She didn’t seem to have any underwear. Where could it have gone? It was probably just as well; she was so wet it would have been just about ruined anyway…

She was standing in front of the mirror, naked. There were her tits. Her nipples were very, very erect. She touched one and gasped. It was tender…painful even. Her breasts felt heavy and full.

She needed to smoke…a cigarette? No…that was the wrong smell…

She held her breasts up. They seemed bigger. Fuller. More needy.

“Yolanda?” she shouted, trying to get her voice to carry over the music. “Could you help me in here? I’m…I’m having trouble tying the back.”

There was a pause. Eva wondered if she hadn’t heard. But then the curtain pulled away, and there was Yolanda’s furrowed brow, which always (always?) made her so wet.

“Yes, Ms. Esmerian,” she said. “Just a…”

She stopped. That hit in the face with a fish look again. Taking in her bitchy boss, who was standing in front of her, holding up her magnificent, olive breasts, nipples at attention. And…hello there, naked cunt. Very obviously naked, wet cunt

The smell was stronger; heavy and rich. Not like cigarettes at all. Like…

“I don’t need a cigarette,” Eva said. “Greta cured me.” She took a step forward, still hefting her breasts, her tits, her…hot, needy udders….

Yolanda backed up. She had, apparently, reached the limits of her deference. “Ms. Esmerian?” she said “Are you.... Maybe I should call a doctor…?”

Eva shook her head, eyes still fixed on Yolanda’s. Pretty brown eyes behind those spectacles. A little wide at the moment, but pretty.

“Don’t need a doctor. Need….” She squeezed her own nipple. A little drop of white fluid slid out, rolling down her breast. Down…

Eva could actually see Yolanda’s pupils contract. “Oh,” her assistant said. It didn’t really sound like surprise. More like a sudden, quiet understanding. She opened her mouth, as if to say something more, and then either Eva pushed it up, or Yolanda leaned down or both. Either way, Yolanda’s lips were suddenly around Eva’s left nipple. Her tongue flicked once, lightly against the distended flesh. Then she sucked. Hard.

The release was so stunning, so unexpected, that Eva screamed. In comparison, the orgasm which came a second later was almost an anti-climax. Not quite, though.

Yolanda looked up at her. Her glasses were askew; there was a dab of milk across the center of the right lens. Milk was dripping down her chin, and there were damp marks on the front of her blouse.

“Ms Esmerian,” she said. She sounded a little breathless.. “You…are such…an insufferable little bitch. I…never thought I’d get to say that.”

She smiled vaguely, and lowered her head to the other breast. Eva thought she was prepared for the sensation this time, but Yolanda used her teeth. Eva screamed again, even louder. Who’d have thought she’d be grateful for the stupid music? She hoped it was loud enough…

Her brain ground suddenly and definitively to a halt as Yolanda cupped her cunt, still sucking the tit. Eva came against her hand, bucking hard, trying to work her lower lips over her assistants’ digits. Yolanda obligingly thrust her middle finger up and in, and Eva screamed a third time, helplessly, then slid to the floor with Yolanda on top of her, still with a finger in her cunt, still, still suckling her. Eva’s eyes rolled back in her head as Yolanda’s fingers found her clit. She started thrusting and moaning, feeling herself rising towards another explosion…and suddenly the fingers were gone. She opened her eyes to protest…and saw Yolanda’s crotch coming towards her.

“I think we need to stop that loud mouth, Ms. Esmerian,” Yolanda said, and lowered herself. Her grey dress settled around Eva…who pushed the damp panties aside impatiently and drove her tongue in.

Yolanda gasped and Eva redoubled her efforts, sitting up as Yolanda straightened so she could keep her tongue at work, grabbing her assistant’s ass so she could thrust harder. She teased the clit gently with her tongue while shoving two fingers inside and pushing in and out once, twice, again. Yolanda came against her mouth, shaking and dripping. Eva wanted to keep licking, to taste all her juices and bring her off again and again. But Yolanda suddenly backed off her.

“Ms Esmerian,” she said, still breathing heavily. “I do believe you’ve ruined my outfit.”

Eva, tilted her head. But anyway you looked at it, Yolanda had a point. The blouse was sticky with milk. There were milkstains on the dress too…as well as other stains.

“Maybe…maybe you should take them off, then?” Eva said.

So Yolanda did. Her tits were small and perfect. She sucked again from Eva’s still engorged breasts and let the fluid run down her chest, and then Eva licked her own milk from Yolanda’s tiny, rock hard nipples. Also, after some maneuvering, from Yolanda’s cunt.

They eventually staggered out, Yolanda wearing Eva’s green dress, Eva in the maid’s outfit. Yolanda wrote out a check over Eva’s name for about ten times what the dress was worth. When the saleslady protested, Yolanda explained, matter-of-factly, that they had left a bit of a mess.

“Oh,” the saleslady said. “Ohhhhhhhhh.” Then, wickedly, “See? I knew you were the lucky girlfriend!”