The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Mr. Grant? Mr. Grant?” It was a little after six on a Friday afternoon, when I heard those words just outside of the building where I worked. The boss had dropped something on me at three, and I’d already missed a decent bit of happy hour with some of my friends, so I wasn’t too inclined to stop when I heard my name. Unfortunately, that momentary hesitation at hearing my name had identified me to whoever had called it, and the sound of half-running footsteps meant that I was not going to be able to ignore it. I sighed to myself—the weekend was really shaping up to suck—and stopped. I turned around and saw two men in dark suits coming up to me at a trot.

“Ray Grant?” one of them queried as he arrived within speaking distance.

“Yeah,” I guardedly said. I didn’t recognize either of them, and the sun was behind the buildings at the office complex; it was a little too shady to be wearing sunglasses as they were.

“We’d like you to come with us, please.”

Before I had any chance to do anything, they were flanking me, and the guy who had spoken had his hand barely touching my elbow, but the tone of his voice and their intent was clear. I tried to stall. “What’s going on? What’s this about? Can we go somewhere private?” He just repeated himself and they began to herd me towards the street. “Am I under arrest? For what? This has got to be a mistake...” I continued in vain, getting no answer. We’d picked up the pace and arrived at a black car waiting at the curb.

“Get into the car, please, sir.” Same businesslike monotone, but it wasn’t a request. The car door opened.

“At least you can tell me what I’m being falsely arrested for,” I whined, but still got no response. “I’m innocent what... whatever... it...” By the time the pain of being stuck in the arm with something sharp had registered, the world began to swim, and, for a few instants, my brain tried to figure out why my legs wouldn’t work—. Then I went careening into a very, very dark void.

My arm, neck and head hurt. The arm was cramped in one small spot— it felt like the aftermath of a tetanus shot. My neck was also cramped, as if I’d been sleeping in a bad position for a while. I moved to look at my watch—but the painful, bright white that flashed behind my eyes, intensifying the hangover I had and the fact that my watch had been removed made the time of day immaterial. I cautiously looked around the room, trying to keep my stomach from emptying. It was by far the nastiest hangover I’d ever had, and judging by the stories I’d heard, this one was a contender for all-time worst hangover in the history of the world.

I slowly, cautiously checked out my surroundings, fighting the headache and nausea that accomapnied the slightest movement. I was sitting in a chair in a windowless white room, with walls were made of the same material I’d seen in most gym bathrooms. A desk and unoccupied chair sat in front of me. The door was probably locked, but I didn’t want to try to move to find out. I figured that shouting would be a very bad idea; something told me that loud noises would not do my headache any good. My vision had blurred and my stomach was churning violently as a result of this brief look around the room. I laid my head on the desk and whimpered in solitude for a while.

However, the hangover cleared in an amazingly short time. I felt good enough to stand up without any nausea or complaint from my head, and I had a sense that maybe an hour or so had passed since I’d regained consciousness, not several hours. It was only then that I saw that there was a camera pointing into the room from well above the door, so I mock-cheerfully waved at it. I figured that the door would be opening within a few minutes, and I would meet whoever had drugged and kidnapped me, and maybe find out why. Sometimes I hate being right, and this was one of them.

A man walked in shortly after I’d waved at the camera. He was older than I was—somewhere in his late forties, I guessed, wearing the same kind of black suit and tie that the two guys who’d abducted/arrested me had been. He walked to the other side of the desk and sat, looking comfortable—predatorily so. He made no attempt to hide the fact that he was evaluating me as he looked at me, and he possessed an unwavering air of—unimpeachable authority as we sat. I tried to match his gaze, noting that his sandy hair was in a crew cut, and that his face had many fine, sharp, wrinkles—something told me they were definitely not laugh lines. After a few minutes of this silent stalemate, I cracked. “Who are you, and why am I here?” I said in my best imitation of a demand.

His mouth moved; it wasn’t a smile, but it told me that he’d heard that exact line many, many times. The silence continued for a few seconds before he finally replied, “Who I am is not important, and you haven’t been arrested. Nor are you being detained for interrogation.” He let me chew on that for a moment. “However, who you are is important to me, and that is why you are here.”

“I’m not who you think I am...” I began, but he raised his hand.

“You are Raymond Grant, correct?” he smugly asked. I blinked. “Actually, Mr. Grant, I know quite a bit about you. Friedrich Raymond Grant—” I winced at the sound of my full name. It was my great-great grandfather’s name, and family tradition that every male born into our family was given his first name. We were differentiated by our middle names, which was fine with me, because I hated being called “Fred.” He smiled, well-aware that he’d caught me off-guard, and now held the upper hand. “—Born on July 26, 1979 in Philadelphia, distinguished scholar in high school at Central, graduated cum laude from Penn in computer design and software engineering. Offered a job at Meridian Systems before graduation because they really wanted you. You’ve been working there for the last four years. Hired as an interface analyst, promoted to team leader after nine months, and again to senior lead after fifteen. You’re regarded by both your management and your peers as an effective, yet affable leader.” A complicated series of expressions flashed across his face, the only indication that he was thinking about something instead of being silent to increase my discomfort. Finally, in a surprisingly cordial and respectful voice, he added, “That’s a rare combination, and it indicates amazing people skills.” He looked directly at me. “You’re going to be promoted again in January, by the way. Your manager is moving to another division effective January 1st, and Meridian is going to give you his current job.”

My mouth hung open while I wondered why they had enough interest in me to know things about me that I didn’t even know yet. I conceded my disadvantaged position by saying, “All right, so you’ve done a lot of research and know more about me than I do. That still doesn’t explain anything to me. What good can I do you? I’m not a genius or an expert in anything—” He held up his hand again.

“Fried—Ray,” he corrected himself. “You do prefer your middle name, correct?” Damn, he knew everything. I gave him a brief nod of acknowledgement, and he cleared his throat before resuming. “You can be of great help to me with a—problem—I’m having.” He fidgeted for an instant, the first sign of discomfort I’d seen from him, but he gathered himself just as quickly and it vanished. “You know a Miss Deborah Stafford, correct?”

I blinked. Debbie was my next door neighbor. She had just started taking a class towards her MBA while working two jobs, so I hadn’t seen much of her beyond a quick “hi” recently, but we’d met at building socials and the like. We’d talked, as neighbors were wont to do, and done small favors for each other from time to time, but we weren’t involved at any level. She was cute, and I love women with red hair, but she was my height and definitely chubby, so I’d never thought of dating her or anything. I nodded again, wondering what she had to do with this.

“She’s a—part-time employee with us. Today, there was an ah— accident.” He looked pained.

“Is she all right?” My concern was genuine. Debbie seemed like a sweet girl.

“Not entirely.” Now I had him at a disadvantage, as long as I could remain stoic. It wasn’t easy, but I was determined to take my victories where I could. He finally, grudgingly, explained, “She hasn’t been—physically—harmed,” but it was obvious that he didn’t want to tell me any more than that. “Perhaps I should show you. Frankly, it’s easier than telling you. Come with me, and for your own safety, I urge you not to get—curious.” We left the room, and traveled through narrow corridors, all white, and made of the same material as the room we’d left. We turned left and right, bypassing some corridors in favor of the seemingly circuitous route until we arrived at an unmarked door that looked like the any of the dozens of doors we had passed. “She’s in here,” he said without emotion, and opened the door.

Of all the things I had prepared myself for, the sight that greeted me was nowhere on that list. Debbie was on her knees, fellating one man and jacking off another, with no sign of anything other than libidinous glee. She didn’t seem to care about our entry, although the two men dressed in black suits certainly did. Obviously panicked at having been caught, they tried to hastily disengage themselves from her erotomanaiacal efforts, but she was equally determined not to let them go that easily. Finally, one of them frantically ordered, “Debbie, stop now! Go to sleep!” She instantly stopped working on the guys, curled up on the floor, her eyes closed and she was... asleep. Just like that. My jaw dropped.

As one of the men buckled his pants, he had a sheepish grin on his face. “Sorry,” he said, addressing the man with me. “Just couldn’t resist—temptation, you know?” He shrugged, sounding and looking like a frat boy who had assaulted a sorority girl. He didn’t care that what he did was wrong; he was worried that he was going to get in trouble for it. “The story’s been... making the rounds, and everybody knows about it, sir.” The other guy chimed in something about how she probably couldn’t get any anyway, and he chuckled, straightening his tie.

Their cavalier attitude made me angry, but I was outnumbered. Before I could react at all, the man with me looked on with an unreadable expression. “Yes, I know. She’s too easy in her present state.” The other men relaxed, “just-between-us-guys” grins beginning to appear. Suddenly, their boss pulled a heretofore hidden pistol from inside his jacket, and said, “I can’t afford people who can’t resist the simplest of temptations, and neither can this organization.” He fired twice, the gun issuing a soft “ffft” each time. Holes appeared almost instantly between each man’s eyes, their grins half-turned into shock, without having enough time to show horror, and they hit the ground, falling backwards, away from the sleeping Debbie. Blood began to pool beneath their skulls. “This story will also make the rounds,” he coldly said to the dead bodies. Turning to me, he said, “Feel free to throw up, Mr. Grant. The clean-up crew will take care of that as well as this.”

I couldn’t sense any hint of emotion from him and had not during the entire incident. This was so far out of reality that I was unable to react. Nothing. No horror, no revulsion, no nausea. “Oh, that’s right,” he said, “the counter-agent we administered to revive you reduces stomach motility.” He watched me for any sign of hysteria, and satisfied that he had waited long enough, he continued. “At any rate, that little... demonstration we encountered on our arrival illustrates my problem. Miss Stafford is suggestible to the extreme. Somehow, she erroneously received... an experimental solution, which seems to be the proximate cause of her current state.” He cleared his throat. Obviously, we could not let her leave and go out in public by herself in this condition. We need someone to... take care of her.”

“Why me?” I croaked, mouth feeling desert-dry.

“Because she identified you as someone she trusts—earlier in the process. We didn’t know at the time that the effect would be so... thorough. But we believed that her trust would make it easier for her to accept your instructions. It still may, as the effect fades.”

“Will it fade?”

His hesitation told me the answer before the words came out. “We don’t exactly know. We hope that you’ll help provide us with the answer.”

It all hit me at once. My head began to shake, slightly at first, but it quickly turned into a vigorous sign of refusal, along with my babbling, “Oh no, oh no...” repeatedly.

“Let’s go to an office where we can discuss this more rationally, Mr. Grant.” He reached for me, but I needed no encouragement to leave that room. I had forgotten about Debbie, who had mercifully slept through the massacre, and was ignorant of her situation as a mindless, completely obedient, drone. I just wanted to get the hell out of there.

A few minutes, and a big bottle of water later, my heart rate had returned to normal, and I had gotten my hysteria under control. “Why am I here? What do you want me to do? Doesn’t she have a family?”

He held up both hands this time as my questions tumbled out with increasing rapidity. “Family would be a very bad idea. The extreme changes would be highly worrisome to them, and as a result, her current state might become known to—the public-at-large. That would invite some very—inopportune, and dangerous questions, which could cause... severely adverse effects for everyone involved.” His euphemisms didn’t hide much, and I knew they weren’t supposed to. He’d just summarily executed two of his own people in cold blood—it wasn’t too difficult to extrapolate what he would do to the general population in the same situation. He resumed, “We need someone familiar to her, and someone for whom it wouldn’t be a stretch if they were... together.” He saw my reaction at that, and interrupted my protest before I could get it out. “This is a paid position. You will be compensated quite nicely for your... cooperation.”

“And if I refuse this generous offer of yours?”

“First, let me give you the good reasons you don’t want to refuse, Mr. Grant,” he smoothly replied, with a smile that chilled me. He pulled a sheet of paper from a folder. “I can tell from your... internet usage that you have some interesting little... fetishes. Before you ask, we do have ways of getting this information, and it’s quite detailed. We only bother if we identify someone as a person of interest. When Miss Stafford first started working here two years ago, it was standard procedure to identify and profile her closest contacts—just in case.” The expression on my face prompted him to snap, “Oh, save your indignance. In these times, the presumption of innocence cannot be afforded to anyone.”

As quickly as it had disappeared, his calm façade returned, and he resumed. “Given your pattern of surfing, Mr. Grant, I’m surprised that you don’t see this for the opportunity that it is. Think about it. She’s completely suggestible. That ties into your visits to the— " He looked down at the paper. “—Erotic Mind-Control Archive. This is a natural fit, don’t you see? She’ll do anything you ask her to. You can turn her into exactly what you want in a woman. Those files you have of women being hypnotized—that could be you wielding the crystal, Mr. Grant.” He paused. “Except that in her present state, you can make her do things beyond the reach of hypnosis. No ruse would be necessary. Instead of telling her that she’s hot and alone to get her to take her clothes off, you can tell, no command, her to take them off, and they’re off. You can even have her participate in your other... fetish,” he cruelly smiled, with that smug superiority I’d seen earlier. “It would save you money in the long term. You wouldn’t need to make those video purchases to feed your fetish. Miss Stafford would be your live custom video, any time you wanted.” Still seated, he pushed his chair away from the table. Thoroughly embarassed, I could feel myself flush. “A man in my position can’t afford to make moral judgements, Mr. Grant,” he shrugged, correctly reading my emotions. “As long as it does not impact the security of this country, I don’t care what you do, what you fantasize about, or what makes you horny.”

I still had to protest. “But the archive is fantasy! I don’t really have the desire to do any of the things I read about! I can’t do it in real life! Thanks, but you can keep her in the lab here. People disappear all the time in this city. You could skate...” My voice trailed off as I realized that they no longer viewed Debbie as an accident. She was now an opportunity to conduct an experiment in the real world.

“You are very smart, Mr. Grant,” he said as he recognized my comprehension, his voice suddenly going flat. “Perhaps a little too smart, but we can work with that. If you accept our offer, life will go on as usual for you, except that you will have a new girlfriend. If you refuse... your private life will be... exposed before... you disappear.” He looked a little pained. “For the record, I personally would prefer to avoid that at all costs. Accepting is so much neater for everyone concerned.”

“Do I have a choice? How long do I have to—participate?”

“Yes, you have a choice. You can keep your petty morals intact and watch your life go to hell before it ends, or you can erase your debt and create the girl of your dreams.” There was a pause. “As far as the length of your participation is concerned... We will let you know.”

He knew what my answer would be. It was either me or her. “I accept your offer.”

“I knew I could count on you to help your country in its time of need, Mr. Grant,” he smiled. It didn’t make me feel any better. “Here is what we know so far: Miss Stafford is suggestible in the extreme and this causes her to obey any directive without question, as you have seen. We will need to keep you here with her for several days, to gauge her responses under controlled conditions. We will take care of your absence at work to everyone’s satisfaction. During this time, we will also attempt to see if we can condition her so that she will only respond to a limited number of principals.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, nor could I believe that I had signed on, despite the cost. This was another human being we were talking about. Sensing my self-disgust, he added, “You may find it... rewarding beyond your fantasies.”

After speaking to the scientists, it was evident to me that they had no concept of how to implement mind control. They had developed a tool, or so it seemed, to make it possible. Unfortunately, they weren’t exactly sure what that tool was, and they didn’t know how or why it worked. Whatever it was, it had turned out to be a little too effective. They did not have any idea of how to modify that complete obedience into directed, personalized obedience, or to moderate the range of behaviors exhibited. Debbie was currently a zombie that was open to anyone’s command. What they were trying to create was a mind-controlled drone that would only obey instructions from a single, specific source, albeit without any question. I asked them for a computer with an internet connection. That was something that was covered in great detail throughout the EMCSA, so I told them that I thought that I could handle it.

When the scientists left, another dark suit brought me dinner. As distasteful as my I found my task, and as disgusted as I was with myself for choosing self-preservation over principle, I had regained my apetite, and finished it in short order. I had been their captive for quite a while, and I was very tired. I couldn’t tell if the food was drugged or if it was my fatigue that caused me to sleep so suddenly, and so soundly.

I had no concept of time, but it felt as if I had slept for a long, and surprisingly peaceful, time. After eating breakfast, I was led to a white room full of people where Debbie stood, looking—well, mindless and vacant. Ready to command. But they didn’t know what to do in order to make her less of an obedient zombie, and how to attach her response to command to one specific person. “You guys have a crystal or something I can use as a focus object?”

“Is this a part of your fetish, Mr. Grant?” The man in the black suit had noiselessly come into the room. “We aren’t interested in sexual gratification here, as you, of all people, should have realized by now.”

My stomach lurched at the memory of watching him execute two men in close proximity. “No,” I replied, somewhat testily. “I need to narrow her focus; there’s a lot of stimulus here in the room, even though you may think it’s just a blank white room. I need to condition her to pay more attention to me than what is going on around her.” I didn’t really know if that was true, but I had delivered my explanation with just enough of a tone of knowledgeable authority that I could sense him hesitate, trying to figure out if I was bluffing. I left my best poker face on, saying nothing further.

“Very well,” he acqiesced. “We don’t have one available right now, but we’ll get you one. Is there anything else you need? Strobe lights, perhaps?”

“No. You guys want her to respond to me, right?” He acknowledged that and left the room. “Debbie, when you feel my hand squeeze your shoulder, you will relax into my arms and sleep deeply until... I kiss your left ear.” The scientists watched with envious amazement as I gently lowered her to the floor at the completion of my command. I could tell that, their boss’ statement notwithstanding, they were busy calculating the sexual possibilities of their weapon—A nerd is a nerd, secret government research or no. They asked a few meek questions, but this time when I asked for access to the EMCSA, they flatly denied the request, even when I said that it was for research purposes.

I got my crystal after lunch. The thought that I was about to mind-control someone into becoming my slave sent some blood south, but it was a trickle—there wasn’t anything remotely sexual about the laboratory situation. After asking everyone else to leave the room, and reluctantly having that request granted, I knelt and kissed Debbie on the left ear. She sleepily, blinked, rubbed her eyes and smiled at me. “Debbie, look at this crystal. Watch how it spins... it’s very pretty, and it fascinates you. All you want to do is to watch the pretty crystal and be fascinated. Watch the crystal and let everything except my voice fade further and further away... The crystal is so pretty... everything except my voice fades futher and futher away... any thoughts you have are replaced by my voice and the image of the crystal... When you are totally fascinated, and your mind is blank, you will close your eyes, and sleep, reamaining sitting in front of me. Watch the crystal spin... listen to my voice... more and more fascinated, your mind is becoming more and more blank...”

It took about three more minutes of this pseudo-induction before her eyes rolled upwards, and the lids closed smoothly. “Very good, Debbie. Now, when I tell you to, you will open your eyes. The only things you will see are the crystal and me. The only thing you will hear is my voice. Repeat that, please.”

“Only see... crystal... n’you,” she slurred. “Hear... Only... y’r... voice.”

“When you see the crystal and hear me say ‘crystal sleep’, you will close your eyes, and go back to this sleep, except that you will be ten times more deeply asleep each time you see the crystal and hear my command. Do you understand?”

“Yes...”

I repeated the same set of instructions to her a few times, rewarding her with a “Good girl” each time she gave me the desired response. Although I knew that she couldn’t disobey, it seemed that the stronger a bond I forged between the two of us, the less impact someone else’s command would have on her. When I was finished, I signalled to be let out of the room.

“Promise me that you won’t make her a triggered assassin or something like that,” I said to the man in charge.

“Mr. Grant, may I remind you that you are not in a position to make any demands,” he crossly replied. “However, we are in need of your... expertise,” he sighed, “and frankly, as our alpha subject, she would never be given an... assignment. She is yours, to do with as you please, as long as we get the information we need. May I also remind you that you are a paid consultant at this point, as well. You get what you want, as long as we get what we want. Is that clear?”

As reassured as I could be given the situation, I re-entered the room, now accompanied by the scientists. I let them put a bio-monitor on her before I woke her up. “Debbie, do you know who I am?”

“Ray...” she said, looking at me with wonder, not recognition.

“Crystal sleep,” I said, waving the crystal in front of her. “Ten times deeper, Debbie. I am your master. You will obey me and only me. Do you understand?”

“Mas-ter?” she mumbled.

“Yes. You will obey me, and only me. Open your eyes, Debbie, awake now.” She lifted her head, and looked at me. “Debbie, do you know who I am?”

“R-R-Raayyyy...” she answered after a hesitation.

“Crystal sleep,” I snapped, waving the crystal again. “Ten times deeper again, Debbie. I am your master. You will obey me and only me. Do you understand?”

“Masss-ter?” she mumbled.

“Yes, Debbie. I am your master. You will obey me, and only me,” I commanded. “As you sleep deeply and obey me, who am I, Debbie?”

“R... R...” She was trying to say my name, but after a pause, she finally, softly, timidly, asked, “Master?”

I pounced on that. “Sleep ten times deeper, ten times more obedient. Who am I, Debbie?”

“Mass... masster.” Much shorter delay, more of a declaration.

“Good girl, ten times deeper and ten times more obedient. Who am I, Debbie?”

“Master,” she replied with confidence.

“Good girl! And whose master am I?”

“My master,” was the reply.

“And whom will you obey?”

“I will obey you.”

“And who am I?”

“My master!”

And whom do you obey?”

“I obey you!”

“Debbie, wake now, open you eyes and look at me.” As soon as she did, I asked her again, “Do you know who I am, Debbie, and what that means?”

Her eyes were focused, not vacant, showing awareness of everything that was going on, and my chubby next-door neighbor answered, “Yes. You are my master. I will obey you.”

“Good girl, Debbie!” The answering smile at the praise faded instantly as I said, “Crystal sleep, Debbie, I command you, sleep ten times... a hundred times deeper, you will sleep and obey me. Sleep and obey me.”

I gulped down a bottle of water. My head was buzzing, I was breathing heavily, and I was—excited. I had a hypnotized slave! A hypnotized slave with a pussy and a mouth! One who would let me do anything I wanted to her! Who would let me turn her into anything I wanted her to be! My excited musing stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice. “Bravo, Mr. Grant. That was very good.” He put his hand on my elbow. “Now please come with me while we... run some tests on her,” he said.

I was escorted back to my cell, imposing the reality of the situation on my thoughts. I stewed by myself for a while until one of the scientists opened my door. “Mr. Grant...” he sheepishly said, “If you wouldn’t mind coming back to the subject... We can’t wake her up.” I smiled evilly, for everything that statement meant. If they were true to their word, we would get out of here, and I would have a completely malleable sex toy. I could command her into losing weight... yeah, a slimmed-down Debbie... that had some serious erotic possibilties. I didn’t hear a word he said during the walk back to the room where Debbie slept. I woke her up, and then I felt a pin prick at the back of my neck. Ahhh... shit...

The hangover from hell again. I had been moved, because I was now in what looked like a hotel room, except that the windows were blank. As before, the hangover faded, and once my brain was working again, I surmised that I had been moved. A large man came in with a dinner tray, said nothing, and left. I was hungry, inidcating that I’d been out for some time. “You could have just escorted me back to my cell, you know,” I said, figuring that I was still being monitored. “I’m cooperating. At some point, I’d like a shower and a change of clothes!”

I don’t know how long it was, but the door opened, and Debbie was wheeled into my room, unconscious, on a rolling bed. She was carefully lifted and placed on the king-sized bed, but the men that brought her in didn’t leave until Mr. Scary came in about a minute later. “We thought it would be better if you—interacted—with her in a—more normal setting. Where would you like to be? We can project hotel room views from any city in the United States,” he said. I shrugged and told him to pick somewhere. “Very well. She’ll be regaining consciousness in another half-hour or so.” He handed me the crystal. “Feel free to indulge yourself.” With that he was gone, leaving Debbie and I alone—if you didn’t count the cameras that were recording everything—in the simulated hotel room.

As I looked at Debbie, lying slack and unconscious on the bed, trying to figure out what to do. The television came on by itself, and a porno flick began to play. I wasn’t in the mood, but I couldn’t find the remote, so I sauntered over and pressed the power button. Nothing happened, except that my cock began to rise. By the time Debbie stirred, I had a raging, incredibly firm erection, most likely aided by something they’d put in my food. The porno flick that I couldn’t turn off didn’t hurt, either. I was positive that there were cameras filming everything. She sat up, looking groggy. “R-r-ray?”

“Crystal sleep,” I announced, twirling the magic crystal in front of her. “Do you remember who I am, Debbie?”

“Yes.” Her tone was very flat, almost like... one of the hypnotized chicks I’d seen from one of the membership sites. My cock twitched. “Master.”

“My voice is the voice you will obey. It is the only voice you will obey, do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

“When you open your eyes, you will remain deeply asleep and obedient. You will do exactly as I say, and you will respond... as if you are living the ultimate sexual experience you’ve ever imagined. Only your master can provide this. Are you willing to obey?”

“Yes. I will obey you, master.”

“Then open your eyes, and obey as you sleep.” What the hell, I thought, they’d set this up, and frankly, they’d put me in a situation where I didn’t want to be contrary. My cock needed a warm, soft, wet home, and it needed it NOW. “When my cock enters your mouth you will feel it in your mouth and in your pussy. So full, exquisite friction... As you suck the cock in your pussy pulses, as you slide your head back and forth over my cock, the cock in your pussy slides in and out, and as you swirl your tongue on the cock in your mouth, you feel a tongue swirl on your clit. Obey.” Teasing the nerds monitoring me by having them watch something they’d probably only ever dreamed about seemed like a suitable revenge for the eternal porno I’d been subjected to.

I had no idea how sexually adept Debbie was, and like a normal guy, I figured that the chubby chick would be clumsy and inexperienced. From the moment her eyes lit up at the sight of the bulge in my pants, it was clear that she was more practiced than I thought. She knelt in front of me, eagerly unzipped my pants... then unhooked them. “Don’t want the zipper to get in the way,” she throatily intoned, giving my boxers a quick tug downward, revealing my very hard, very straight, dick. She engulfed it with no hesitation, purring, “Mmmmmm... Ohhh!” Her eyes popped open as my command took effect. Her head moved smoothly, rhythmically up and down my length, stopping just short of the top of her throat, but it was warm, and she kept a gentle suction throughout. At least until she discovered the sensation that sucking and stopping caused. She began to suck my cock off and on, humping her wide hips at the floor, issuing little whimpers... sexy, little whimpers.

Then her tongue began to work, first swirling around, then tapping lightly over the sensitive ridge. She decided that she preferred the swirling sensation on her clit, and so would roll her tongue in circles around my cock as she slowly took it into her mouth, pausing for a few instants to suck, and then when she had taken me as far as she could, just as slowly... pulling back, tongue coming back in circles...

It wasn’t long before she was having an orgasm humping at the floor, the invisible dick and tongue having driven her wild, and yet she continued her frenzied, world-class blowjob, as it drove her ecstasy more than my own. “When I come... you will swallow...” I panted, feeling my own eruption near. “And ... and.. you will have... the... BIGGEST... orgasm... ofyourlife!” I groaned as the fire rushed through my whole body charging through its conduit into Debbie’s willing, still greedily fellating, mouth.

“HHHMMMMMFFFFFF!!!!” she tried to scream with her mouth full. I thrust my cock into her mouth, the sweetest burn making my entire body tingle. “HHRRRRMMMMMMFFFF!” I heard Debbie, and as my eruption subsided, I became aware of a very loud, squishy slurping sound. Debbie’s eyes were rolled up in her head, one hand frantically stimulating her pussy and clit, and even from my vantage pint, I could see her inner juices run onto the carpet, and it triggered another vicious contraction and I jabbed at her mouth again. “URRRRRRGGGHHHHHH!!!!!” My cock popped free as Debbie arched backwards, crying out, lost in bliss. And it was a major turn-on. I was hooked. Right then, I became a completely willing part of a secret government mind-control project.