The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Slob’s father was a man generally known as Mack. He was a chain smoking scruff in his early sixties with a stubble of a beard and an attitude and physique that was as hard as nails. Unlike his son, he was thin and muscular. Years of working on road gangs had toughened him up and he retained a distinct Scottish accent despite his move from Glasgow to London more than forty years before. His arms were tanned a sort of nicotine brown and covered with amorphous green tattoos.

Mack popped in to see his son, a week after Kirsty’s capture. The Slob let him into the flat and made no comment as his eyes were inevitably drawn to Kirsty were she stood at the sink doing the washing up. Dressed in a French maid’s uniform the little blonde was a marvellously erotic sight and the Slob couldn’t resist a smirk as he saw expressions of surprise, lust and slow envy creep across his father’s face.

“This yer new girl friend”, Mack said as he took a seat.

“She should be so lucky!", the Slob said gleefully. “Nah, she’s just my maid. Kirsty! Make us both a cup of tea will you?”

The Slob was a study in casual disinterest as Kirsty scuttled to boil the kettle and fill the teapot. He did not fail to notice the way that Mack ogled the anxious young blonde. Soon Kirsty had set a plate of biscuits in front of the men and poured them tea. The Slob clicked his fingers which was a signal for the maid to wait by his chair with her hands behind her back. Kirsty’s skirt was remarkably short and her stockinged legs were on full view and easily accessible to her master—a fact which he now took advantage of. With a twinkle in his eye the fat man ran his hand up and down Kirsty’s left leg, making Mack stop and stare openly.

“I thought you said she wasn’t your girlfriend?", he said glancing up at Kirsty’s downcast face. A delightful pink blush had spread over her face. The young woman was plainly embarrassed by the Slob’s attentions, although of course it was nothing she had not experienced before. But never yet in front of anyone else.

“She isn’t”, the Slob laughed. “She’s just a maid. She cooks and cleans and makes my bed. But that isn’t the extent of her duties. You see I’ve found other uses for her body and they are part of her conditions of employment. Very enjoyable they are too!”

“She fucks like a bunny rabbit on heat don’t you Kirsty?", the Slob gloated.

“You mean she’s just a silly little tart you’ve picked up somewhere?", Mack said.

“She’s no such thing!", the Slob answered angrily, squeezing Kirsty’s leg hard. “A tart only opens her legs for money. Kirsty spreads herself whenever I tell her too and no questions asked! And she doesn’t have any ideas about money! No, sir! For Kirsty, accommodating my cock inside her sweet flesh is all part of the job and she does it whether she wants to or not.”

Mack was grinning openly now. He didn’t know how his son had done it but this lovely blonde woman seemed to be in thrall to the overweight monster who was now so openly pawing her body. He ventured another question.

“So she does everything you tell her, eh?”

“That’s right!”

“Then I suppose she’d give me a ride if you told her to?”

The Slob laughed at this father’s ingenuity, highly amused at the turn of the conversation.

“Of course”, he said. “Take her into the bedroom and give her a stuffing if you want.”

He turned to Kirsty. The blonde was trembling noticeably and trying to avoid his gaze but she knew that she had to do as she was told. The prospect of being passed from the Slob to his father as though she were no more than a toy was one which horrified her.

“You’d better do exactly what my Dad tells you to”, the Slob said. “If he isn’t completely satisfied with you then my friend Michael will be paying a half a dozen visits to your bottom!”

He chuckled as Kirsty whimpered in fear.

“Come on then wench!", Mack said, suddenly grabbing her hand and dragging her away from his son. “Let’s see if you’re as good as my boy thinks you are!”

Soon Kirsty was lying on the bed with her legs apart and her dress hitched up about her waist. Mack was amused to find that she worse no panties and he felt no need for her to undress further. So the helpless young blonde was fucked by the cruel old man, still wearing her French Maid’s uniform. Mack enjoyed the encounter enormously and didn’t care that Kirsty seemed to be fighting an enormous internal battle to resist him. The important point was that she lost that battle whenever he so much as raised his voice. She was sweet, submissive and very accommodating. After a vigorous pumping in which he gave her a full dose of his spunk, he had the girl undress so he could fondle her breasts and touch her up before ordering her to lick his cock clean. Mack had no complaints when he returned to the living room. In fact he had made up his mind to visit more often and take regular advantage of his son’s hospitality....

The Slob didn’t have a job—or at least he didn’t have the sort of job which could be declared to the Inland Revenue. But he did make money in a number of dubious ways. In fact his main source of income came from handling stolen goods and selling them on to a variety of contacts. He was a fence, and it was in this capacity that had come across the instruments he had used so successfully to enslave Kirsty. One of the many small time petty crooks who provided him with hot property had ‘lifted’ the hypnotic toolkit as part of his haul from breaking into a Volvo in a badly secured multi-storey car park. The young criminal wasn’t particularly smart and had no idea what he’d taken. The Slob, however, found the equipment and the accompanying documentation fascinating. He didn’t know who was producing this kind of experimental material although there were clues suggesting secret government sources. As far as the Slob was concerned the important thing was that they had no way to trace the theft to him and that he could perform his own experiments...

Two weeks had elapsed since Kirsty moved into the Slob’s flat and began to serve as his slave. In that time she had learned a lot about his requirements and special preferences; much of her knowledge reinforced by frequent bare bottom spankings and an occasional dose of the cane. She quickly grew accustomed to washing, cleaning and cooking, always wearing her French maid’s outfit, but she still hated the more intimate sexual duties which her owner compelled her to perform. The Slob didn’t care about that. He was delighted with Kirsty’s acquiescence and enjoyed every aspect of his new property.

One Monday evening the Slob invited a few of his friends round to watch a West Ham game on satellite. They were a motley crew; all of them twisted mentally and in some cases physically to match. There was Mack, of course, who was intrigued to see how the others would react to Kirsty. Ricky was a young ‘enforcer’. A nasty piece of work with a crew cut and a bad attitude. Larry was a used car salesman with greasy skin and a greasy attitude. Even his legitimate business was a form of robbery and he wasn’t averse to a little criminal activity on the side. The Slob got on very well with him. And finally there was ‘big Tony’, a very unsavoury specimen indeed...

“This your new piece of stuff?", Ricky asked with the apparent casual interest that might normally apply to discussions about a motor car or some other inanimate object. The Slob had told all his guests about Kirsty and in truth they were fascinated by the concept of controlling an unwilling young woman so completely. But none of them wanted to give him the satisfaction of open envy and so everyone pretended it was an everyday situation.

Kirsty was a very alluring sight in black stockings with a ridiculously short dress and impractical high heels. She stood nervously in the corner, certain that this would be a very unpleasant occasion. The Slob had told her that he expected her to obey his friends just as if he were giving the orders himself and she was dreading the possibilities. Perhaps however—and here she clung to hope before reason—perhaps they would do no more than letch. Perhaps they wouldn’t dare to molest her. It was bad enough that she had become the Slob’s plaything but the humiliation of this public confirmation of her role was too much to bare. She bit her lip and fought not to cry.

“Nice legs but her tits are on the small side”, the young thug continued. “Still not a bad little looker I’ll grant you that.”

“She’s got the place into shape”, Tony commented with approval. Tony was even more gross than the Slob—an habitué of the dog tracks and an inveterate liar. Still, his statement this time was true. The grotty mess that was the usual state of the flat had been transformed into something remarkably tidy and clean. The fat man grinned and flicked his cigarette ash onto the carpet.

“Well”, he said with malicious glee. “Clean it up girl—it’s what you’re here for isn’t it?”

Kirsty scurried to get a dust pan and brush, crawling on all fours to sweep the ash away. Her dress rode up and presented the onlookers with a perfect view of her suspenders and knickerless bottom.

“She’s a shameless little trollop isn’t she?", one of the men muttered.

Kirsty wanted to object—to deny the men their contemptuous opinions. “I’m not! I’m not! It’s the Slob—he keeps me like this!", she shouted inside but of course she daren’t give voice to any such compliant aloud. Instead, meekly, she just cleaned the floor and waited for the next set of instructions.

When the football match started, Kirsty was ordered to wait on the men, bringing them drinks and snacks and performing any menial task which amused them. She was groped continuously, her thighs and buttocks, stroked squeezed and pinched as she strove to please them.

At one point, after she’d brought ‘big Tony’ an ice cold larger, he made her sit on his lap as he eased her right breast out of her dress. Using the can like a rolling pin he squashed the soft flesh repeatedly against her chest to the extent that the pressure and the cold combined to produce a painful mixture of unbearable stimulation. Kirsty had squirmed desperately in an effort to avoid the worst effects, whimpering like a dumb animal but it was to no avail. The cruel treatment continued until her tormentor ran his thumb over her nipple and finding it hardened by his abuse, pinched it sharply before pushing her away with a evil chuckle.

Unfortunately for Kirsty, Bradford City scored a late goal in the last minute, condemning West Ham to defeat and putting all the Slob’s guests into a foul mood. ‘Ah well’, the Slob thought, ‘there’s always the post match entertainment’.

“Well then”, Larry said as the TV was switched off. “Why don’t we see if your silly little wench has any use apart from keeping your house clean? How about you get your kit off for us then girlie? Time we saw what you’re made of.”

Kirsty swallowed nervously. It was the moment she had been dreading but there would be no escape. All eyes were on her now as she slowly removed her clothing.

“Hands together and put them behind your head”, the Slob ordered sharply after she had folded her dress over the chair, placed her shoes under the table and carefully peeled off her stockings. “Chin up and turn round slowly so my friends can all get a good look at you!”

A succession of crude comments followed and then the demand that made her stomach drop to a new low and begin to churn with anxiety.

“OK, Kirsty, I want to see you play with yourself for my friends now. And do it good—like you mean it or I’ll put you over my knee and spank you! Start with your tits. Give ‘em a good squeeze!”

To the intense interest of the men, the submissive blonde reached up and began to manipulate the soft mounds of her sensitive young breasts, squashing and kneading them between her fingers. The girl’s wide blue eyes were blank with anxiety and her skin was pale.

“Harder!", the Slob ordered, “and start on your cunt now!”

Tentatively the fingers of her left hand went down to her sex whilst her other hand continued it’s rhythmic pressure on her mammary glands..

“Poke ‘em in there and work ‘em round!", one of the men said crudely to raucous laughs. It was hopeless. Kirsty felt like crying and her face began to screw up. She was so ashamed and she had seldom felt less aroused since falling under the thrall of her cruel captor. This disgraceful exhibition brought home to her the true depth of her humiliation.

But she could still do nothing about it. Her fingers opened the lips between her legs and began to push against the sensitive nub of her clitoris with hopeless desperation.

The Slob watched amused for a while then impatiently he said, “Would it be better if I told you to do it for me Sugar Pie”.

That was all she needed. The key words pushed her well programmed mind into the smooth and narrow track for which she was now so well prepared. Kirsty gave a little gasp and felt herself heating up. The girl’s nipples were like bright pink berries, swollen and sore as they pulsed with a new arousal. Her hips wriggled in sudden excitement and her sex moistened.

“That’s better”, Ricky said, satisfied. The men watched in fascination for some minutes as the increasingly frustrated little blonde played with herself and tried to achieve a climax. She couldn’t of course. The Slob’s programming has been highly effective in blocking even this form of release from Kirsty’s terrible mental bondage. An orgasm was only permitted with his specific permission and this time he withheld it, enjoying the sight of her juicing and cooking before his friends...

To alleviate her increasing distress, Kirsty found herself applying increasing pressure to her breasts, pulling, squeezing and even pinching the elastic flesh until it ached beneath her—the self inflicted pain acting as a distraction from her desperate need.

“I think she needs a bit of help”, Tony said. “This’ll finish her!”

The Slob grinned. His bald friend was waving around an empty brown beer bottle. “Go ahead”, he said and then more loudly to Kirsty, “Open yer legs for the gentleman, bitch. He’s gonna stick something in yer twat that’ll sort you out proper!”

Kirsty’s face was bright red with embarrassment and discomfort as she walked over to the horrid man and let him do as he wanted. The neck of the bottle was pushed into her most intimate portal and thrust crudely back and forth.

“You can come now”, the Slob said at last, and to her intense shame Kirsty did.

It was only the prelude to a general orgy in which every one of the Slob’s friends took their pleasure with the blonde girl’s submissive young body. In the course of the next hour the woman was spared no humiliation which might conceivably satisfy the lusts of her captor’s friends. Brought to the point of orgasm on numerous occasions she was only allowed to achieve a climax by begging for it, humbly and sincerely. The Slob led the way in breaching the sensitive entrance to Kirsty’s beautiful little bottom—a form of sexual assault from which he had hitherto refrained. Today, though, no holds were barred. After a sound spanking, he forced her buttocks apart and lubricated the area round her anguished sphincter with a jar of Vaseline. The girl’s buttocks convulsed with reflexive resistance, but to no avail as he rolled on top and plugged his triumphant organ inside. The warmth of the freshly punished flesh leant extra pleasure to the cruel fat man as he pumped his seed inside her. Then she was passed round to the others and her body worked over and well used.

The Slob was very pleased with the result of his party. When the men finally left, he thanked them for coming and instructed his maid to kiss each one of her grinning assailants for the final time. Kirsty had been a real success. Remembering the moment when he had first laid eyes on the sweet little blonde the Slob felt a warm glow of achievement, secure in the knowledge that all his plans for the unfortunate young insurance technician had born fruit. The complete transformation from pretty and demure office worker to desperate and powerless sex slave had taken less than two months. Now she was his to enjoy, again and again, whenever he wanted...