The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Everyone has their favorite Vegas hangouts. Mine is the Four Queens, a hotel and casino on Fremont. It’s old style, a reminder of the Vegas of the 1940s, and a stark contrast to the flash and glitz of the Strip. Being downtown, it was also just a short walk from the convention center, which gave me independence from the hotel shuttles. I suppose if I were a proper mentor, I’d have shared that preference with Melissa. Oh, well.

I’d told her to meet me for a late lunch at the Four Queens on Sunday so we could plot strategy before going to the pre-show keynote. When she showed up forty minutes late looking as if she’d just been through a natural disaster I chuckled inwardly. “Did you have trouble finding it?”

Melissa is no rocket scientist but she has more brains than her airhead-cheerleader looks convey. I could see her trying to decide whether to take offense or just let it go. Letting it go won. “The monorail will take some getting used to.”

“Monorail? Where are you staying?” I knew because I’d seen her itinerary, but it made as good a conversation starter as any.

“The Mirage,” she said. “Nobody told me that the convention center wasn’t on the Strip. On the bright side, though, I now know exactly how to get to the center from here because I walked it.”

“Lesson One, Grasshopper: Stay as close to the convention center as you can. Makes it easier to slip away from the crowd to do some writing or have a quiet interview.”

Her smile got a little less convincing, and I could see her preparing her words carefully. “Yeah, about that. I’m not sure why Chad thought it was necessary to send you here, but I really do know what I’m doing. I may not know the town as well as you do, but that doesn’t mean I want or need a babysitter.”

I had my response for that ready. “Then don’t think of me as a baby sitter.” I reached out and grabbed her hand and watched her face go blank before she could pull it away. “Think of me as a trusted colleague, someone you enjoy working with and learning from and with whom you feel completely comfortable and safe.”

“Safe ...” The blank look faded slowly. “You’re right, Sam. I think I’m going to be glad you’re here. To be honest, I’m a little intimidated by the size of this assignment. There have been times I’ve wondered how I got it.”

Sometimes my mouth just blurts something out before my brain can screen it. “Probably from sleeping with Chad.” I realized even as the words came out that they were unspeakably tacky but there they were, hanging in the air. The best I could do was to try and disavow responsibility. “I mean, that’s the office gossip.”

Melissa’s face turned three shades of red, but the way she slumped in her seat told me anger had nothing to do with it. “Oh my God, Sam. What are they saying?”

I have to admit I’d made the remark out of cynicism; there really wasn’t any office gossip to speak of on that subject, at least not that I’d heard. This didn’t seem like the right time to own up to that, though, so I just let her talk.

“It’s not ... well, what you probably think. I didn’t sleep my way into this job, Sam. Chad was an accident.” My eyebrow rose involuntarily and she blushed even harder. “Remember Leslie Foreman’s retirement party? After that wound down, a handful of us ended up at Sullivan’s. I was the only woman in that group and there were three guys buying me drinks. I lost track and got blitzed out of my mind. Chad called a taxi, we ended up at his place, and the next thing I knew I was wishing the bedroom would stop spinning so I could suck him off without getting motion sickness. When we woke up in the morning we were both hung over, I was mortified, and he was in love. Now I’m stuck—Chad’s all right in a bland sort of way, I suppose, but if I wasn’t afraid of losing my job I’d have dropped him already.”

“Has he ... said anything?”

“Anything actionable, you mean?” She shot me a sharp glance and then softened again. “No. He just gives me the puppy-dog look and I go along because even if he doesn’t threaten it I’m afraid that if I end it he’ll just ride me until he finds a plausible excuse, the way he was doing you. How did you get off his shit list, anyway?”

“Friends in low places,” I lied, and covered her hand with mine again. “Melissa, it’s very important that you distance yourself from Chad. I will be there for you, and I can protect your job from him if it comes to it.”

“Yes,” she murmured through her blank face. “Yes, I should do that. It’s good of you to be there for me.”

They say that the average man has a sexual thought every seven seconds. I used to think that was bullshit, but looking into Melissa’s blank, obedient face was making me rethink that. I could so easily imagine her stripping, kneeling in front of me, opening my zipper ...

I jerked my hand away, but it was clearly too late. Melissa’s expression changed and she started regarding me like I was a decadent dessert. Her hand reached out for mine. “It’s okay, Sam,” she said smoothly. “I like it, and I do it a lot myself. So if you don’t mind my touching you, I don’t mind having you touch me.”

The way she said ‘touch’ left no doubt as to what kind of touching she had in mind. Willing Sam Junior to stand down, I tried a deflecting joke. “I’m touched. Now, let’s go through the background material I got from Leah on tonight’s speakers.”

“I can’t wait. Shall we go up to your room then?”

“We haven’t eaten yet.” I knew it was risky, but I put my hand on her again and really focused on the next words. “We need to focus on business right now.”

“Focus on business,” she repeated in a monotone. Then with a quick shake she recovered herself. “Yes, of course. Where’s that menu?”

With considerable effort I dragged my mind back to business as well. By the time we’d ordered, eaten, and finished getting Melissa up to speed on the speakers it was time to head to the convention center.

I’ll spare you the details on the speeches. Suffice to say that I spent a couple of hours half listening to industry luminaries explain their vision for the next year while the rest of my mind plotted strategy for the week. Melissa’s fingers ticked away on her netbook, taking notes that she’d need to write the obligatory summary. Having a protege wasn’t all that bad, come to think of it.

In fact, as I took furtive peeks at Melissa in her slinky black dress, I was rapidly reconsidering my plans for the evening. I’d intended to send her back to the Mirage with a writing assignment, but better ideas were forming the more I thought about it.

The speeches ended and we joined the mob heading out of the hall. Melissa slipped her arm through mine and asked, “Back to your place?”

I struggled to suppress the pornographic thoughts that invoked. “Not just yet.”

“What? Business is over for the night; it’s time to have some fun.”

“The real business is only just beginning,” I corrected her. “At the Hilton, a social gathering of industry pundits and power journalists is forming as we speak. An entire banquet room full of people anyone would kill to have in their Rolodex, and I happen to have an invite.”

Melissa’s professional ambition quickly overcame her power-induced lust. “And you’ll take me with you?”

“As my associate,” I confirmed. “Eat your heart out, Chad.”

She winked. “Chad who?”

We strolled to the Hilton at an easy pace enjoying the night air. I kept an eye out for well-dressed people and vaguely familiar faces and followed the largest group of them into the Hilton and through the lobby to the banquet rooms, doing my best to project an air of someone who knows exactly where he’s going and has every right to be there.

Sure enough, there was a muscular man in a well-fitting suit standing guard at the door to the press banquet. As each person or couple entered he inspected their invitations and then waved them through.

Soon our turn came. “Your invitation, sir?”

“Oh, of course.” Not actually having an invitation, I tried extending my hand in the familiar greeting. The guy wasn’t buying it, though. So I tried Plan B, a conspiratorial approach and a light touch on his elbow. “I am Mr. Maskell from Tate Global, and this young lady is my associate Miss Graves. You remember that I showed you my invitation earlier, when we first arrived, so it’s perfectly okay to let us back in.”

“Yes,” the guy said in a daze. “Welcome back, Mr. Maskell. Please step inside.”

As soon as we were out of earshot of the door, Melissa pulled me aside by the arm. “What did you do to that guy? He bought that story as if it was real.”

Uh-oh. “It was real,” I told her as I ran my finger along her upper arm and watched her face go blank. “You saw me show him a legitimate invitation, and he let us inside as he was supposed to.”

“Oh.” It took several blinks for her eyes to focus again, though I could be a little off since I was mostly staring down the plunging neckline of her dress. “I must be getting loopy or something. For a second I thought ... well, never mind.”

“There’s a waiter over there with champagne; why don’t you get us some?”

“Good idea.” She broke contact and followed her orders, and I found myself admiring the way the dress clung to all the right curves. Down, Sam, a voice reminded me. You’ve got business to do.

After a quick drink we split up to work the room. I managed to shake hands with several publishing execs and the owner of a highly regarded technology blog, leaving them with a strong positive impression of me and the vague notion that they would very much like to have me on their team. Chad’s job wasn’t all that much better than mine, after all, but it was a managerial position—once I had that it would be easier for one of my new friends to justify making me a better offer.

At one point I looked around and saw Melissa in the middle of a ring of admiring guys. I wasn’t the only one making contacts here. Still, it wouldn’t do to have my underling outshine me—a minor correction was in order. I gave her a come-hither gesture and was pleased to see her excuse herself to join me.

“Are we done already?” she asked.

“No,” I replied, taking her elbow again and watching the thousand-yard stare return. “We need more time to network, but while I do that you need to have a few more drinks. Don’t worry if you get a little tipsy—in fact, that’s perfectly okay in this company—but stop short of getting sloppy drunk.”

“You’ll be my designated driver, won’t you?” she giggled.

“Of course.”

This time as she headed for the nearest waiter I imagined I had x-ray vision and could see through her dress. Oh, the things I could do with that body ...

Could do? my inner critic sneered. You know damned well how this night is going to end.

Another hour of schmoozing later I had a full calendar of interviews for the week, a pocket full of contact cards to add to my database, and a half-dozen potential future employers primed and ready to seduce me away from Tate at the first opportunity.

Melissa was having a good time, too. Her laugh came easily and was just a bit too loud, and the young guys around her were getting bolder about touching and looking. The real powers in the room, male and female, looked at her just often enough to confirm that it was time for me to show my managerial finesse by getting her out before she embarrassed herself.

The timing couldn’t have been better. I’d been using the power a lot, and the side effects were getting intense. To my eye every woman in the place looked like a supermodel under a spotlight. Sam Junior was perilously close to taking over for the rest of the night, and that was a sure fire way to destroy all the work I’d done at the party. I needed a safe recipient for my amped-up libido, and Melissa would be it.

I came up behind her in mid giggle and put my hands on her hips. “Time to go now.” This time I made no attempt to suppress the mental image of me ripping that dress off her body and taking her repeatedly.

She wheeled around and steadied herself on my arm. “I was afraid you’d never ask!”

By the time we walked the block and a half from the Hilton to the Four Queens we’d abandoned all pretense. Melissa groped my ass as we walked through the lobby and in the elevator I blatantly slid my hand up her dress and fingered her. When the doors opened at the fourth floor she was already dripping wet.

Once inside my room I grabbed her dress and yanked it up and off her in one determined motion. Underneath she wore only a black thong, which quickly flew across the room in my haste to get between her legs. Melissa was almost as fast at getting my shirt and pants off me before I flung her onto the bed and dove face first into her sopping wet sex.

I like to think that I’m a pretty cunning linguist naturally, if you get my drift, but with my magic hand on Melissa’s thigh my arousal and lust fed into hers and produced a rousing chorus of groans, gasps, and fervent references to God that culminated in a fast, loud, strong orgasm. I recall thinking to myself that she’d have an even better one when she felt me come inside her.

As soon as that thought cleared my head Melissa grabbed my hair and yanked me up toward her chest—that one thought was enough to get her ready for more. Her feet clawed at my shorts and shoved them down and her hand reached for my hard cock. “That’s what I want,” she moaned, and I felt her stroking me and pulling me toward her slit.

I moved with her and grabbed a handful of exquisite tit as she guided me inside her. Her muscles clenched around Sam Junior and her hips rocked. I picked up her rhythm and moved with her, in and out, back and forth, and when I felt that surge beginning I squeezed her tit with my right hand willed her to come just as I did. Her body jerked and squeezed harder on me and mine went into delightful spasms until my knees gave out and I collapsed on top of her, both of us panting and blowing like winded sprinters.

“Oh ... my ... God,” she said between breaths as we slowly recovered. “I can’t believe we did this. Am I going to regret it when the champagne wears off?”

Which was a good point, considering her history with Chad. I reached out for the first handy body part, which happened to be a breast. “No, you won’t regret it. We’re friendly coworkers away from home; it’s perfectly natural that we hook up a few times during the week. You are completely okay with that, though you’ll never tell anyone else about it, and when the trip ends it will be just as natural for us to resume our normal working relationship.”

“Perfectly natural,” she repeated. Then, as her eyes cleared, “And you can keep doing that as much as you want.”

That was all the encouragement Sam Junior needed. I played with her breasts until I was ready for another go and let Melissa ride me to orgasm, which of course triggered her into one as well. Then we crawled under the sheets and passed out. I woke in the morning alone with a vague memory of Melissa searching for her panties in the dark and muttering something about the Walk of Shame.

It went pretty much that way for the rest of the week. The Four Queens became our forward base where we’d work, conduct interviews, and eat. Sometimes we’d sleep there; other times we’d grab the monorail back to the Mirage and rumple Melissa’s bedsheets instead, largely depending on how fast a release I needed from using the power on people. The more sex we had the more Melissa seemed to want, probably from exposure to me and the side effects of the power.

We did get actual work done, too. My improvised excuse to Chad turned out to be a hell of a good idea: dividing up the labor let us cover a lot more material, and in better depth, than either of us could have alone. We got notes taken and outlines done for a dozen pieces and would have no trouble at all filling the space we’d been committed to. And in the process I assembled an impressive array of contacts and sources for future stories, if I did end up having to keep writing.

Wednesday morning, the last day of the show, I was yanked out of sleep by the ringing of my cell. It took longer than normal to get oriented because I was in Melissa’s bed and had to find my pants before I could grab the phone out of the pocket. I did my best to sound awake as I answered. “Maskell.”

The voice on the other end was Gayle’s. “Where are you, Sam? There was no answer at the number for your room.”

“Sorry—I’m up and about already, working with Melissa on schedules.” At the mention of her name Melissa suppressed a yelp.

“I should have known. You’ve got strong leadership qualities, Sam. Which leads directly to the reason for my call.”

While I listened Melissa rolled quietly out of bed. I watched her naked figure skulking about looking for a bathrobe and smiled. Yep, strong leadership qualities. “Thank you. What can I do for you?”

Gayle’s voice lowered to a conspiratorial murmur. “You were right when you advised me to watch Chad. I can’t go into details on the phone, but Chad is going to be taking some time off. I need someone to step in and handle the department, Sam, and I can’t think of anyone who’d be better at it than you.”

“Me? I’m flattered, Gayle. Of course I’ll step up. Is this public knowledge?”

“Not yet. I wanted to get your answer first, of course. A discreet announcement will be made by email this morning stating only that Chad is going on special assignment and that you will be interim editor until further notice. You can share that much with Melissa, since she’s out there with you. Any questions?”

“Always, but they can wait.” I knew she’d expect that answer. “I’ll make the necessary arrangements to postpone that other matter.”

“Thank you, Sam. I’m hoping that you’ll like the position enough to consider staying on.”

“We’ll talk about that later,” I replied, smiling.

Melissa watched me hang up the phone. “That was Gayle? What did she want? Step up how?”

I beamed at her. “Chad is going on special assignment.”

She hadn’t been with the company long, but even Melissa knew what ‘special assignment’ means in Tate-speak: Chad would be given a month, at most, to find a new job and resign with dignity. “What happens now?”

“Starting Monday, your new interim boss is me.”

The bathrobe dropped to the floor and Melissa knocked me backward on the bed with a congratulatory hug. Her hips pressed against mine and I became acutely aware of the feel of her mound against me. Sam Junior was on yellow alert anyway, what with my having just woken up and then watching Melissa walk around in her birthday suit. An image of Melissa on her knees at the edge of the bed sucking me off drifted through my mind and, naturally, into hers. She reached between us and stroked my cock until it was hard. In due course her hand gave way to her mouth and I drifted off into sexual bliss. My orgasm came so fast it almost caught me off guard—I barely managed to grab on to her before I felt myself spurting into her mouth.

“Jesus,” she said after swallowing. “That’s the first time I’ve come from giving a blow job!”

“You’re just that good,” I told her. And she was, sincerely. Nina could learn a few things from her.

Nina.

The reality I’d been quietly denying all week came crashing down on me. As Melissa retreated into the shower I sat there wondering what the hell I’d turned into.