The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I sat on the edge of the bed with my three girls. “What do you girls think of a trip?” I asked. “Oh, god, anything to get away from this boredom,” stated Maria. I simply smiled.

These last three weeks, since I gained this “power,” had been remarkable. I’ve had sex, and wanted to for some reason, with probably 100 different area women. I don’t know if it amped up my sex drive or what. I “bought” this building for a penny from my current landowner, and everyone got to live here free. The school bus seems to have stopped taking this route, but it was my own little “free love alley” now.

I noticed last week some type of police stakeout a block away. I tested them, and found they weren’t staking out me, to my relief. It’s a little disconcerting that a former Mob Boss lived in my building once, but unknown to them he’s long gone. They figured it out and were gone a few days later, but not before I had a bit of fun with the pretty head field agent (at twenty-five she was an anal virgin!).

But suffice it to say, it was starting to get cold and upstate New York was not the place to be. I figured me and my three head girls would hop a plane to Rome or someplace exotic and see things from there.

“Don’t worry about clothing,” I said, “you guys’ll be coming au natural.” It was cold, but I liked the sights, for some reason. Tiffany and Maria didn’t have a change of clothing anyway. Whenever I slipped out and they put something on, it was usually something borrowed from Angela.

As I walked down the street with my three naked women in tow, I got no stares. No distressed looks or odd sounds. It was intoxicating the level of ignorance people held towards any of my outrageous behavior. Mothers, fathers, mayors, priests, they all treated me with non-chalance. An idea then came to me. “Girls, before we head off to the airport,” I said, halfway to the car dealership, “I think we’ll stop here.” I pointed to the door of the local newspaper.

“Can I help you?,” the kindly man asked at the desk. “Yes, sir. Do you know of any weddings held today?,” I asked. He consulted his newspaper and told me of one on Pearl Street. All five of us exited and flagged down a Jaguar, which was a tight squeeze but the ladies and newspaper employee all didn’t, or couldn’t, mind sitting in the back.

We arrived at the wedding just as it was finishing up. The priest made his statement: “If anyone objects to this wedding, speak now or forever hold your piece.” I played along and yelled as I entered with my entourage, “I object!” I looked back, and Maria and Tiffany were enthralled at the cliched-movie idea. Teenagers.

The priest and the couple had a puzzled look as I approached the front, and most of the audience did as well. “I haven’t had a chance to screw the bride,” I stated in simple terms. Most people just seemed to have that shrug over them, with a couple people showing increased interest in the proceedings after that. “Father?” I said, gesturing to the priest to move out of the way.

“Of course,” he smiled and stood to the side. I gestured to the bride who sat down on the carpeting where the priest just stood, and removed my sweatpants, I was not wearing underwear, and dove in under her wedding dress.

Everyone sat around uncomfortably or bored as I pleasured the bride on her wedding day. The groom standing within inches of us. The priest, bridesmaids, and groomsmen all nearby. I was getting a little bit of stagefright, so I shouted out, “Children outside. Everyone else, pair up! I’m not going to be the only one having sex right now.”

I just sat there next to my bottomless bride and watched everyone else. The groom was screwing Angela. The priest took 17-year-old Tiffany. Maria got the father of the bride, and some young stud got stuck with the mother of the bride. A couple of guys in the corner were at it, I didn’t want to see that, and a few girls as well. I guess I should’ve been more specific with my order. Or maybe that was there preference I don’t know.

“So, what’s your name?” I asked of the bride. “Mrs. Robert Amesworth,” she said dreamily, looking at her husband who was giving it hard to my Angela. I frowned. “Nah, I don’t like that. Priest!” The priest quickly exited Tiffany and rushed over here, adjusting his indecency on the way. “Yes?” He asked.

“Marry us.” He seemed to contemplate this for the smallest fraction of a second. “Oh, okay,” he said, as he rushed behind the desk behind the altar. He brought out a marriage certificate. “Just sign here and it’ll be official after I file the paperwork. I can do the ceremony if you want to, but I’m kind of in the middle of something,” the priest looked back and winked at Tiffany.

“That won’t be necessary,” I said, reaching with my left handle to fondle my wife’s vagina. “Hey Bob,” I yelled to the groom, “toss me your ring!” Without exiting Angela, he took off his just-gotten wedding ring and tossed it in my area. He wasn’t no baseball star, so I had to strain to reach it, but I put it on and smiled at my blushing, and sweating and heaving, bride.

A couple hours of fun later, we were all getting a little tired (I am human afterall). It looked like another group wanted to use the church. They were all in the orgy now, but they looked a little peeved that we took it up this long when they got here. “Sorry father, but Tiffany comes with me,” I stated. “You can have that bridesmaid over there. You two will have sex every night at 6:00 PM for as long as you both shall live,” I smiled as I walked out of there with my four ladies. I only noticed on my way out that the bridesmaid had a wedding ring of her own. Oh, well.

We walked into the bright sunlight, arm-in-arm-in-arm-in-arm, to the sound of the children playing. I looked at the wedding limo. “Well, Mrs. Robert, since we’re married now.”

She just giggled and rushed into the limo, as did the other girls. Things were looking sweet as I ordered the limo driver to take us to the airport.

One day later:

“What?!” Frank was having a bad enough day as it was, and now Julia told him that they lost the King’s whereabouts. It had taken them a week to find him originally, and that was only because they lucked out when he didn’t immediately leave the area after killing Ralph Carmello.

“Sir,” Julia said, her voice shaky, “you told us to not bring suspicion upon ourselves during our stakeout. We, uh, we traced him to a church on Pearl Avenue, at which point the trail goes cold. We think he may have taken an airplane out of the country.” She showed pictures of an abandoned limo crashed through the gate of Buffalo-Niagara International Airport.

“Well, that’s easy, Julia,” he said to his daughter, “we’ll just get the security cameras from the airport and figure out what plane he entered. Then we’ll travel to whatever country that plane went to and search from there.” Julia smiled, relieved that her father seemed no longer concerned.

He was concerned, however, as he was not an all-powerful persuader like the Kings of the World. He picked up his phone and told his secretary, “Get me the head of the FAA. I need to call in a few favors.”