The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Kristen opened her eyes and knew she needed a good spanking.

But that was about all she knew. The slender but athletic blonde college student stretched out her 5-foot-10 frame and looked at the clock/radio on the bureau of “The Dyke Dorm” and blinked several times.

Not only did the clock say it was noon, but it was noon two days from the last time she could remember, well, anything.

“Stace, wake up, come on Stace!!”

The small but hard-bodied redhead moaned a bit but finally sat up. Kristen pointed to the clock/radio.

“Jeez Kristen, how much have we slept?”

“A lot, I guess,” replied the field hockey player.

Said the softball player: “The last thing I remember is, I saw you sleeping on top of the covers and I went over to put you under them and...that’s it.”

“All I remember is I was tired and I went to the closet to get my nightie and then, I guess I was so tired I passed out on my bed and you must have tucked me in,” said Kristen, who without even realizing it began rubbing her newly large clit. “You must have then went to sleep. I guess we were really, really tired.”

“I guess,” said Stacy, who was absentmindedly pinching her breasts. “There is no other rational explanation. Tracy would have gotten us up but she’s on the road trip with the team.”

“Uh, Stace, this is going to sound really weird but I swear I thought I saw Annie Harpring naked in the closet when I got my nightie.”

“Yeah, right,” said Stacy, now kneading her breasts with a fury. They both knew Tracy hated her extremely popular teammate with a passion. “C’mon, Saint Annie being seen in The Dyke Dorm. It’s the last place in the world Annie Harpring would be. Tracy would probably flat-out rape her if she showed her face around here.”

“Ah...., speaking of rape. Would you mind raping me Stace? I guess it’s not rape if I ask but I really, really need to have sex right now.”

Kristen knew that although she and Stacy were both lesbians they had always been simply friends, and both were currently in relationships. She didn’t know why, and thanks to her programming didn’t really care why, but her slit was on fire and she needed to be satisfied sexually, quickly.

Stacy would have laughed at Kristen’s request normally but her own current state of mind was far from normal. Like Kristen, she had been knocked out by Harpring and (after unknowingly having sex with her) carted off to the office of Dr. Martha Satyriasis and turned into her nymphomaniac/slave.

Although Kristen had made the first move, Stacy was in a sexual frenzy herself. If a 50-year-old homeless man showed up at the door right now she would do him.

“Rape, schmape, let’s screw each other,” said Stacy as she took off her nightgown and jumped on top of Kristen, immediately attacking her nipples with her tongue while Kristen stuck two fingers right into Stacy’s cunt. They both meant business.

Two hours, and eight orgasms, later, Stacy lay on Tracy’s bed (both their beds had become so soaked with sweat and cum than finally ended up on Tracy’s) with a satisfied look on her face, casually playing with Kristen’s breasts, which although not big were quite firm. Kristen on the other hand, had a bit of a concerned look on her cum-streaked face.

“Stace, I’m not quite done yet,” the tall blonde announced.

“Shit Kris, we’ve done it every way I can think of for two hours. We’ve got the Young Republican lecture to get ready for. You have to be done.”

“Well,” said Kristen shyly. “I don’t think you’ve done it this way before.

“I want to be spanked, and be rough about it. I’ve been very bad and need to be disciplined.”

Dr. Satyriasis’ brainwashing had brought out the deep-seated sexual fantasies of many of her nympho-slaves. They had sex so much now they liked variety and since they were no longer responsible for their own actions, they were Martha’s slaves, they acted out things they would never think to do beforehand.

Brittany the cheerleader loved anal sex, Harpring was into knock-out sex and now Kristen was showing she got off on being spanked. Unbeknownst to her, Martha’s assistant Cherie at that moment had her right hand dipped in a bowl of ice for the second day in a row. It was badly bruised after Kristen had continually asked to be spanked following the brainwashing session

“Spanking?” said Stacy who even as a clinical nymphomaniac thought the request odd.

“Some people like to be spanked and I’m one of them,” said Kristen. “Pleeeease Stace. Think of it as a way of strengthening your arm. It will make it easier for you to make that long throw to first base. Do it for the team.”

“OK,” said Stacy, who realized she had always preached that people shouldn’t judge a person’s sexual preferences. “But not for too long, we do have to prepare for the meeting.”

Kristen laid her body over Stacy’s lap. People who happen to walk past The Dyke Dorm for the next hour could hear the constant sound of “Thwack!!” followed by Kristen shouting “I’m a bad girl, a very bad girl!!”

At the same time Stacy was spanking Kristen, 12 young women of various races were jumping on top of Annie Harpring, with a large number of people sitting there and watching.

The 6-foot blonde bombshell had just nailed a 3-pointer for her 1,000th career point and when the ball went through the net the other players, except for Tracy, had piled on her in celebration of their beloved teammate’s accomplishment.

In these situations, it was customary that the player receives the game ball, a bouquet of flowers and balloons marking the event. Annie and the rest of the team stood at attention as they assumed the coach would come out and make the presentation.

There were 12 jaws quickly dropping to the floor as emerging from the sideline with the ball, flowers and balloons—was Tracy.

Annie smiled as her secret new lesbian lover approached but the rest of the team was in a state of shock. Every one of them would have bet there was a better chance of Saddam Hussein being invited to the White House for dinner than Tracy congratulating Harpring for anything.

The coach had been equally flabbergasted when Tracy asked her before the game if she could present Annie with the gifts. But she knew if Tracy and Annie could stop hating each other’s guts it would help the team and, though still in a daze, agreed to the request.

Annie had wondered a bit how her new mental state would affect her play. Basketball had been the center of her life but her priorities were now different. Having sex as much as possible and obeying the orders of her Mistress, Dr. Martha, were the most important things to her.

Annie’s play was outstanding so far. She played relaxed and had fun as she felt no pressure. With her new sexual relationship with Tracy, all the past tension between them on the court was gone. Tracy was now playing inspired ball and the team looked sharp, upsetting two nationally-ranked teams.

Tracy handed Annie the goodies at halfcourt and then gave her a big, long hug. Under her breath, she whispered in her ear: “I’ve wrecked my reputation doing this. You better fuck me good tonight.” Annie smiled even wider. She was a good nympho-slave, Tracy would get fucked plenty good that night.

Dr. Heather Slick walked down the hall in an ugly mood. Four men were hospitalized due to sexual exhaustion, their minds turned to mush, Deputy Commissioner Buff Keeny was breathing down her neck for an answer and she did not have a freaking clue after three straight days of study.

The last thing the former fourth-runner-up at the Miss United States pageant needed was for Dean Robert Smith to make her come to his office. He was such a tweedy bore. She had told him on the phone she was very busy but he had been insistent that she come to his office immediately.

As Heather entered Smith’s office, she was stunned to see her high school intern, the blondiful Cynthia Fields, sitting in a chair near his desk in her private school uniform.

“Please sit down Dr. Slick,” said Smith. “I apologize for interrupting you but we have a serious situation here.”

Slick sat down, her long lovely legs exposed to mid-thigh, completely dumbfounded.

“What is the problem Dean Smith and why is my intern here without my knowledge,” she said.

“Miss Fields came to me this morning with a story that I found quite troubling and shocking. We’ve had problems with your department and underage sex before and, to be honest, I’m ready to close to the whole department down. Apparently, you women there consider this university your private lesbian dating service.”

Heather sat there, mouth agape. “I honestly have no clue what you are talking about Dean Smith.”

“OK, fine,” said Smith glumly. Her turned to Fields. “I’m sorry young lady but I told you this might happen. I’m afraid you will have to repeat the story of the incident in front of her. Be strong.”

“I will sir,” said Cynthia, who then gulped a bit before telling her tale.

“It was Saturday and I never work at the department then but I got a call from Dr. Slick to come to her office as soon as possible. I was just wearing shorts and a t-shirt. I asked if I should get dressed and she said to come as I was. We would be alone.

“When I got there. I....I never saw her like that before. She had her hair down and wasn’t wearing shoes. She was in her stocking feet. She was in a t-shirt herself, it had the college’s logo on it, and wore a leotard under it.”

“I always look like that on a Saturday,” interrupted Heather.

“Please Dr. Slick,” said Smith. “You will get a chance to respond. Let her tell her story. Continue Miss Fields.”

“Well, she starts asking me these weird sex questions. She wants to know if my sister, who is captain of the cheerleading squad at her school I’ll have you know, hangs out with strippers. When I said of course not she then asked if she hung out at a lesbian strip club.

“I was totally insulted and got up to leave. I told her some excuse about winning a trip to Washington D.C. so I didn’t have to see her for a week while I decided if I wanted to quit the internship.

“But when I got up I felt funny and fell back in my chair. I had been drinking some soda while she questioned me and when I told her I felt weird she said I should finish my soda.

“I took a couple of sips but felt worse and stopped. I must have blacked out after that for a bit. The next thing I remember was I was on the floor and my shorts were off. Dr. Slick was licking at my vagina and she was totally naked.”

Heather’s eyes bulged out at this last statement.

“I told her to stop but she slapped me, really, really hard and said if I wanted to work in sexual deviancy you must practice what you preach. I was too frightened to do anything after that and I laid there while she licked at my bud and vagina and she began rubbing my breasts with her hand.

“I cried for a bit. I told her I was a virgin because I could see on her desk she had a big dildo and I begged her to let me remain a virgin. She just laughed and said it had to go sometime, might as well as be with a doctor present. She strapped on the dildo and.....Is that enough dean? I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“That’s more than enough dear, you did fine,” said Smith in soothing tones. “You can go now.”

Tears were now streaming down Cynthia Fields’ creamy, full cheeks as she walked out.

Smith scowled at Slick when she closed the door.

“This is crazy,” cried Slick. “I never did anything, ever, to Cyn, in a sexual manner. Her sister is involved in a case I’m investigating for the police and I asked her about it. She knew nothing and she left. That’s all that happened. I swear!!!”

“Before I brought you here Dr. Slick I made a brief investigation,” said Smith, rubbing his hands together. “I checked out Cynthia Fields background and, to be honest, I now feel inferior to her. Everyone I talked to, teachers, clergymen, fellow students, simply raved about her. They all said she was a very bright girl with high moral standards.

“When I asked them what were the chances Cynthia would lie to damage someone’s reputation in a serious way, they were unanimous. They all said there was no possibility of her doing that.”

Slick would have told Dean Smith the same thing, if it wasn’t her that Cynthia was lying about.

Heather felt she had been hit with a 2 by 4 to the face. Slick considered herself to be a pretty moral person and even if she wasn’t, after the scandal with the 17-year-old cost Satyriasis the job she now held, the last thing she would do is make a pass at a kid on the job herself.

“Dean Smith, I had the highest regard for Cynthia myself until a few minutes ago,” she finally said. “I don’t know why she is lying but she is. When Annie Harpring comes back, she can tell you I have always been entirely professional in my dealings with her.”

“Dr. Slick,” said Smith leaning forward a bit. “I’ve already talked to Miss Harpring, albeit very briefly. She was in the middle of a party celebrating her thousandth point. I told her to come to my office first thing when she comes back.”

“Well, I’m sure what little she told you cleared some things up,” said Heather hopefully.

“Indeed it did,” said Smith. “When I told her a condensed version of Miss Fields story, she said three words: “No, not again.”

Heather felt like she’d been whacked again with the 2 by 4, twice. Annie, HER Annie, for some reason supported Cynthia’s concocted story. Heather began to wonder if, somehow, Cyn’s story was true. She racked her memory but couldn’t think of any way her story was close to the truth.

“Dr. Slick,” said Smith. “I see you with two options. I can issue a press release saying due to budget cuts the Department of Sexual Deviancy has been eliminated and you can quietly go on with your life, no fuss, no muss; or we can have an administrative hearing in a couple days, with the decision of the arbitrator final.”

Heather’s options were not good either way.

The first option saved her from embarrassment but left her unemployed. The second one could get her fired if she lost and she would be a pariah in the academic world.

Considering the history of past scandal in her department, the angelic reputation of Fields, plus the apparent support of the most well-known student in the school, Heather knew her chances of winning at a hearing were slim.

But she had one thread of hope she clung to. She was actually innocent.

“I know I didn’t do this, I’ll take the hearing, let me know when it is,” said Heather as she got up and walked out the door.