The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The search for Carl and Josy has been rather easy. It turned out the data they shared in the video was correct in every detail. But they both had, just as Withers morosely expected, absolutely no memories of the incident, not even some missing time in their past daily routines. Professionals gently told them what they needed to know and then there were some routine medical checks without any results at all. Much more interesting was the psychologist’s attempt to re-hypnotize them and to worm out some relevant informations that way. But whenever he tried to put them in a trance, they both just fell in a state of complete non-responsiveness; even their pulse and blood pressure dropped to levels that normally only some Buddhist monks can achieve after years of intense meditation-practice. This state slowly faded into sleep and whenever the psychologist tried again the same thing happened.

So for the further investigation, Josy and Carl were dead end streets and that’s why Chief Withers ordered a heavy big-data-blast as next step: The cat-mask had not covered the face of the lady in black completely, the chin and—in some angles during the wild cock-riding—the mouth could be secured and analysed. What followed was a comparison of that chin and mouth with every face that every camera in the public area of the whole region has filmed in the last year. Compared with some obvious facts (height, hair, body-shape) that extensive method had returned three women who could be the ominous criminal. Two of them could easily be monitored because their residence was clear very soon. Both seemed not to live a shady second-life. That’s what put all the lights in the direction of the third woman, who often appeared at friday and saturday nights near a surveillance-cam in the local party area but who could not been traced anywhere else at all.

And that’s what made Withers and Anne dress up for party and lurk around that cam at night. It had to be Anne because she was the only female in the department in the moment. For already two weekends she had been unfruitfully accompanied by the youngest male colleague but he was on vacation that time. Withers filled in for him because he had time, had a personal interest in the case—and has not been out in a club for ages.

He and Anne pretended to take some warm-up drink on a bench where they could have a good look over the area. It was not highly professional, but they really drank some of their wine. It was a friday night, after all. They talked about Anne’s time at the police academy that ended only a year ago. With 22, she was the newbie in the office.

The situation was quite bizarre, because she was wearing some high heels, a miniskirt and a really low-cut top. Withers had never seen her like this before but he appreciated it: It’s better to distract your enemies than to get distracted. But maybe that was not the only reason.

Anne shared some experiences from being a female in a typically male-job. She was so absorbed from her story and Withers was so absorbed by the task not to look at her opulent cleavage all the time that they almost missed the brown-haired woman that walked by only a few feet away from them. They both have missed to look at her face and Withers chided himself for being so distractible by some nice boobs like he was a 15-year-old. He ran a big circle around the woman so he could pretend to be a passenger that was coming from where the woman was heading to.

The woman and the secretly hard-breathing Withers came closer and closer, met and passed. After that, Withers was 95% sure that she was the target and he felt the same excitement he always felt when things suddenly developed in an undercover investigation. He gave Anne a sign, she left the half-empty wine bottle were it was and they secretly followed the mysterious woman.

She walked through the streets rather fast with a clear destination, it seemed. It was almost midnight. Finally, she disappeared in a night club called “RabbitHole”. Neither Withers nor Anne had ever heard of it, but it looked unsuspicious from the internet-pics.

They looked at each other, Anne’s ample chest moving up and down fast from excitement. Withers decided to enter the club and have a look, but the doorman decided he would not (it would have been easy for Anne alone, that was obvious). Embarrassingly, he needed to play the police-card to enter the club. “Very much undercover”, he thought.

Inside, everything was like expected: Loud music and a dark atmosphere, that got interrupted by some dazzling lights here and there. Withers could feel the beat in his chest. They went for the bar and ordered some drinks while looking for their target. Anne had dropped her camisole and Withers could not stop himself from noticing her great body now—the high heels emphasised her athletic, firm ass, her spectacular cleavage emphasised her spectacular cleavage. She must wear sport-bras every day in office, he thought, before he remembered why they were here for. He clinked glasses with Anne and took a good sip from his drink to get his mind clear.

Right, the damned cat-woman. Nowhere to see in the moment. Anne suggested to go dancing but Withers said he’d rather stay at his seat at the bar. For professional reasons, of course. So they parted in order to stretch their combined visual field. Withers never was a big dancer, additionally. So he sat alone at the bar, sipping his drink and letting his eyes wander through the club. Anne made a great figure at the dancefloor. Every few minutes, she had to disappoint one of the young disco-boys.

It is a strange effect that if any phenomenon just occurs slow enough, you just don’t realize it. Chief Withers sat there for a good while, watching the club, watching out for the cat-woman and watching out for Anne occasionally.

The thing is that the music went deeper in his brain and heart and chest ever so slightly that he didn’t notice it at first. That the blurring lights blurred his eyes and mind just a few shades more every moment. That a little bubble of joy and blissful indifference built in his stomach and that this bubble grew bigger and bigger till he wasn’t feeling his ass on the chair anymore.

People came left and right, ordering things at the bar, sitting down or leaving immediately. He didn’t care for them anymore.

The bubble grew so big that it reached and swallowed his lungs and crotch—the latter was peculiarly pleasant to him. In this bubbled-up state, there was no ‘suddenly’ anymore, so he felt foreign lips on his right ear that he hadn’t expected at all but he wasn’t startled by them the slightest bit.

“Now tell me who you are, my dear!”, the lips said in a beautiful, deep voice.

“I’m Chief Clay Withers”, he said and a little nagging arose in him besides the bubble that had some doubts if this was an information he really wanted to share with those lips.

“What are you here for, Clay?”

“We’re investigating undercover in a case of a potential sex-crime.”

“Does the blond girl with the high heels belong to you?”

He had to adjust his vision to answer the question. He saw Anne who was dancing arm in arm with a muscular guy. That guy held her in his arms like she may fall if he didn’t. Their hips were pressed together and were the only body parts who were still dancing. Anne had her head on the guy’s shoulder, looking really zoned-out with a goofy smile on her face. She pressed her crotch against his. The nagging grew stronger in Withers but the don’t-care-and-feel-good-bubble has reached his head now, it seemed.

“Yes, that’s my assistant.”

“What’s her name?”

“Anne.”

“Last name?”

“Hoffmann.”

“Do you like her dance?”, the lips asked.

“No-yes”, he answered truthfully with his overstrained brain.

“What don’t you like?”

“The danger.”

“And what do you like?”

“The sexyness.”

“Look at me now!”, the lips ordered.

Next to him was a woman with brown hair. She seemed very familiar somehow.

“Follow me!”, this woman said, looking deeply at him.

She rose, walked away and he followed her like a dog follows its owner. The floor was of wool, his legs of rubber, but the bubble helped him to stay upright. They entered a little side-room where there was no other person inside. He was told to sit down. He did.

The woman was sitting on another chair in front of him. Very close. Her legs between his legs. He could smell her perfume. He looked at her calmly and felt the bubble inside of him growing even more.

She was reaching out with her right arm and caressed his left cheek, his head, his mouth. It felt very good and he smiled.

“Your drink was drugged, did you know that?”, she asked gently.

“No.”

“Are you upset because of that?”

“No.”

“Afraid?”

“No.”

“Should you be?”

“Yes.”

“Why aren’t you, then?”

“The bubble feels too good.”

“Which bubble?”

He told her about the wonderful bubble in his body and brain. She started to kiss him. The he felt her hands on his penis. He got hard very quick.

“Look at me”, she ordered.

Somehow, she wasn’t wearing a top anymore. He could see her nice, pierced breasts. Underneath and besides them—framed by them—was an eye inside a triangle. Mysterious light was coming from it.

“Yes, look at my tattoo! You get drawn into it...”

He did. Soon, he could only see the eye, nothing else anymore. Not even the breasts directly besides it. The hand around his head put him closer, the other hand was massaging his erect cock through the trouser. The woman was talking in her nice, deep voice. Than his head made contact with the eye in the triangle and he stopped to sense at all.

Chief Withers woke up in his own bed, with a feeling of remorse that was intense and yet unclear. He searched his memory of what has happened the night before. Right, the investigation with Anne. The target on the street. The Club. And then—oh no—the drinking. They couldn’t find the catwoman and were sitting at the bar, pouring down one drink after the other, he remembered. They must have overdone it completely because here his memory stops completely. That hasn’t happened to him since his time at the police academy. Strangely, he did have only a slight headache and a strange taste in his mouth.

But his major concern was neither the drinking nor the failed investigation but what had happened to Anne after their excess. He had to call her immediately. But while he reached out for his phone, it was Anne who called already. He responded promptly and with great relieve.

“Hey Anne! Nice you’re calling! Everything fine with you? I fear we behaved a little bit unprofessional yesterday...”, he chuckled with a guilty feeling.

“Yeah Chief”, Anne said with some grieve in her voice that let his heart skip a beat, “that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Withers did not really know where this conversation was going to.

“Ahm, yeah, so I think we should forget about it...”

He could hear Anne sigh.

“Well...”, she finally said, “I really expect you never to do that again. Otherwise, I fear I’d have to complain officially. I’m sorry.”

Withers was standing upright now, startled.

“Never do what again?! Drink some booze?!”

“Please, Chief, don’t make it even worse. I’m speaking about the pictures of course.”

“What pictures are you talking about?!” He sensed that he might have some panic in his voice.

“I’ll hang up now, Chief. Check your phone if you really don’t know anymore. Bye.”

And with that she was gone. He immediately did as she suggested. What he found made his toe-nails curl up: Pics of himself, with bare chest, smiling sheepishly at the camera. Then the same pose with a kiss on his lips. Then a close-up of his semi-erect dick. Then several pics were his dick was standing at full attention, his hand around its shaft at some. Then all combined, he in all his horny-drunk glory, naked from his head to his knees. Many photos of that. He was posing with his dick pointing out, like a model. In the back there was his untidy bathroom.

And all that was sent to Anne via their Whatsapp-chat. He felt a headache coming that had nothing to do with drinking.

Monday morning was a tough one, of course. Withers entered the office while the now deleted photos formed a slide-show in his head. Anne was already at her place. She quickly looked up but immediately brought her eyes back to her screen when she saw him. Her cheeks were flushed and Withers hurried to get at his place.

Thankfully, it was a busy day and they all got absorbed by a lot of work. At lunchtime, he waited till Anne was gone with some colleagues and he got himself something from the asian bistro near the office.

He was working, working, working and barely looking up. It was so much to do but he did it like he was in a tunnel, nothing else mattered. When he finally looked up, it was already dark outside and there was only one screen on besides his own. Anne’s.

His heart skipped a beat. She also looked up from her screen like coming out of a trance and their eyes met. As fast as they could they looked at their own computers again.

A few minutes passed where he did not work at all but were he could not leave his chair either. Then he heard Anne moving. She was shutting down her screen, standing up and—oh no—turning in his direction instead of heading for the door.

She came nearer, walking slowly, unsure.

“Chief” she said, stopping directly before his desk, “I... I think I need your advice as my supervisor.”

“Look, Anne, if this is about the photos again, please be sure that...”

“...no, no, like I said, I need your advice. It’s about the police-halloween-party. I don’t know if I picked the right outfit and I somehow think that I should ask you about it. I don’t know why. I just feel like it.”

“What are you talking about, Anne? An outfit-question? Halloween is months away! Let’s go home, I’d say, and get some sleep.”

“But I really NEED to show you. I really feel like it somehow. I don’t know... please may I show you?”

“Show me? The outfit?”

“Yes!”

“You have it already here in the office?”

“Yes!”

“So show me the damn thing! Where is it?”

“I’m wearing it beneath my uniform.”

“Wait, Anne, what are you...”

But before he could stop her—his ass still somehow glued to his chair—she started to unbutton. Soon, her uniform lay on the floor and then his colleague Anne, the hot Anne everybody in the office was lurking around, stood there in nothing more than a dress that only consisted of a few white stripes that barely covered her nipples, her navel and her pussy-lips.

“What... what is this supposed to be...”, Withers managed to say. A totally unwanted erection was pressing against his trousers.

“Don’t you remember Leeloo from The Fifth Element? It’s her famous dress!”

He faintly remembered.

“Well, Anne, but compared with your outfit, Leeloo was dressed quite conservatively, don’t you think? Also, the actress was quite flat-chested, while you, ah... are not...”

Anne’s ample, firm breasts fighted to get past the white fabric, swelled all around it, so one could see cleavage, underboobs, sideboobs all the same time.

“I’m so sad you don’t like it! I thought it suits me just fine...”

Anne was turning around. A very, very thin lane of fabric was going down from her shoulders along the spine and vanishing between her fit, bare ass-cheeks that she pressed together a little bit.

“Well, it’s not that I don’t like it, and it clearly emphasises your great bodys-shape, but...”

In the middle of his sentence, Anne suddenly bent forward with her legs straight. Withers found the rest of the white fabric but never managed to finish his sentence. His cock was aching in his trouser now, while he looked at Anne’s almost uncovered ass.

Anne did not turn around anymore. She picked up her uniform, took it in her right arm and quickly left the office in just her Leeloo-dress.

After a few minutes of an unstoppable mind-movie, Withers was suddenly able to rise from his chair again.

The rest of the working week went by without further accident or incident. Withers and Anne avoided each other and Withers had the impression that Anne was at least as embarrassed about her fashion show as he was about his photo session. But he was totally drunk and couldn’t even remember doing it; why was Anne behaving so strange? He was thinking and thinking but had no clue.

As the days passed by, Withers got more and more uncomfortable due to a strange medical condition he never even heard of before. Anne’s body in the white dress was all over his mind this week, of course, and was making him extremely horny whenever it popped up in his head. When he was alone, he then freed his erect cock and was jerking off to the images in his head. But whenever he was only a few strokes away from cumming, his whole body fell into a state of total paralysis and he couldn’t move at all. When his cock finally was limp again, he had full control over his body again and started to jerk off again. But he never reached the point. And finally he gave up, frustrated.

Why he didn’t go to see a doctor? Why he couldn’t connect all his sudden personal troubles with the case of the mysterious catwoman? Neither of it ever occurred to his mind. It just didn’t.

What did occur were unwanted erections in odd situations by the end of the week (while shopping, being in the office and also in the gym, were hiding it was especially difficult). So on Saturday afternoon, a very unnerved Withers sat at home, thought about Anne’s dress again and suddenly went to the bathroom, shaving. He just felt like it.

But he was not shaving his face but trimming his crotch, what he has never done before. The hair on his chest got also cut, but not totally. He just shortened them till his broad breast was an area of short black hair. Then, he shaved a medium-sized heart in the middle of that area. He just felt like it.

When he was finished, he dressed up in his police-uniform like he was going to work and sat in his car.

But he did not drive to the office. Why should he, it was Saturday, after all. No, he was driving somewhere. He knew where to go but he didn’t know where he was going to. Quite a strange feeling. He stopped to buy some nice flowers and a box of expensive chocolates. After that, he continued his travel. He knew that something was going on with him, but he didn’t panic. He just didn’t.

Suddenly he knew that he had arrived. He got out of the car, put on the hat of his uniform, grabbed his presents and walked towards a little house with garden. Whom was he going to visit, again? He knocked at the door and soon it was opened. It was Anne. She was wearing her uniform, too.

“Chief? What a surprise... ah... what are you doing here?”

Well, what was he doing? Now there was a little panic in his mind. They both looked at the flowers and chocolates.

“Are they for me?”

“What? No!”, Withers tried to laugh. “I was buying them for... I just can’t remember.”

“I see.”

“Why are you in your uniform, Anne? It’s saturday, after all.”

“Well Chief... why are you?”

They were facing each other, puzzled, and neither of them knew how to proceed.

“Well”, Withers said with an embarrassed cough, “I guess I should go now. Have a nice weekend!”

Something was fighting inside Anne. Then she said:

“Oh come on, since your’re already here, let’s have a coffee first. It’s already made.”

And with that, Withers stepped in, taking his hat neatly under one arm, flowers and chocolates in the other. The interior was old and corny, embroidered cushions said “Home sweet home” et cetera.

“Nice house”, he lied.

“It’s the house of my parents, I’m here to take care for their plants. Their on vacation”, Anne said in an apologetic tone. “By the way: How did you even find me here? Have you stalked me?!”

Withers didn’t know how to answer the question and tried to distract.

“Are you awaiting someone? The table is so nicely laid.”

Indeed, everything was ready in the old fashioned living room. Old, but expensive porcelain, a cake, coffee and tea on some electric heaters, and candles all over.

“No”, Anne squirmed “I... I guess I just felt like preparing an afternoon tea-time.”

“But for two persons?! I don’t get it...” Withers asked while putting his flowers in the vase in the middle of the table.

Anne only shrugged her shoulders and they sat down on the plush sofa. It was a very awkward situation and they barely spoke. Withers always had to think that it was Anne who he was dreaming intensely about the whole week.

They were eating some cake, drinking some coffee and tried to get along with a little small-talk, all in their police uniforms.

“Well, how was your week?” Withers asked just to say something.

“It was ok. A lot of work, but who am I telling this, right?”

They both laughed cautiously. Today, Anne had some discreet, tasteful make-up on and looked not so much like a hottie but more like a beauty.

“Did you also have a nice week, Chief?”, she asked politely.

“No, not at all! I was super horny the whole week but could not jerk off for some reason! It was horrible!”

As soon as he said that, Withers let out a shocked sound and covered his mouth with his big hands.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I have no idea why I said that...”, he stuttered.

Anne looked at him with big eyes.

“Do you have that, too, sometimes? That you feel absolutely compelled to do certain things and can’t stop yourself from doing it, no matter what?”

“Yes! The whole week! You have that, too?”

“Absolutely! In fact... in fact I think this feeling is coming over me right now! What should I do, Chief?!”

“Fight it, for Christ’s sake! What is it?”

“I have the sudden urge to take daddy’s camera and record our coffee party...”

“Don’t do it! Fight it!”

Anne was wriggling in her chair, dismay in her face.

“Oh, but it feels so wrong not to do it! I can’t stand it!”

She was jumping up and Withers tried to do the same but like in the office, his ass was glued to his chair. So Anne put on the camera right in front of them and turned it on. When the red light showed, she sat down, satisfied.

Then suddenly, Withers could get up and was quickly heading for the camera. But when he just made two steps towards it, he stopped abruptly. Even worse, he started speaking to the camera:

“Hello and welcome! I’m Chief Withers and this is my young colleague Anne. Today, we show you what your estimated police officers wear underneath.”

And with that, he slowly and seductively stripped down to his underwear, revealing the freshly shaved heart on his chest. Today of all days he was wearing the super tight slip his colleagues gave him as an ironic birthday present. With burning cheeks he was returning to his place, giving the camera a good look of his barely covered ass.

He looked at Anne and tried to apologize but instead she rose and also started a strip-performance. Soon she was back in her overwhelming Leeloo dress again and Withers instantly got an almost painfully hard erection which he tried to cover by shifting his legs.

When she was finished, she sat back down and they both avoided to look at each other. But nothing changed the situation, the tea party had to continue and so they were back to eating cake and drinking coffee almost naked.

But poor Withers got hornier and hornier with Anne in her dress right before his eyes. He just couldn’t stop himself from touching his cock, he just had to. He tried to hide from Anne and the camera that he was playing with himself and so he did it with just one finger, trying to look casually and continuing to talk about the weather. But that made him even hornier and so he took his full hand and was covertly stroking himself till he panted quite conspicuously. Anne must have noticed it but didn’t say anything. They continued to talk about the heat and how it affected the flowers in the garden and Withers tried to breathe as steady as he could.

But then, in the middle of a sentence, he felt that he was reaching climax soon and—was paralysed again. Like the whole week, completely unable to move any muscle of his body.

When he suddenly sat there like a stone, with his dick in his hand, Anne got up. She performed a super sexy lapdance for him most professionals would have been proud of. Then she pressed her ass right in his frozen face and undid the first string of her dress and her breasts were free. Then the whole dress followed and although he could not move, Withers could see Anne’s hot pussy. With some scissors she freed him from his slip. She continued teasing him by bringing her breasts, ass and pussy playfully before his eyes and pressing them into his face. He could see Anne, smell Anne, taste Anne. The super-hot Anne! The sexy, juvenile newbie from work! His trainee... his subordinate!

Then she started kissing his frozen mouth and lowered herself on his cock. She was so fucking wet that it made a little moist sound when his penis slowly vanished inside her pussy. It felt so warm and wonderful, Withers almost lost his mind. The she started to ride him. Slowly at first but then faster and faster. When she was fucking him at high speed, Withers thought he had to die from unsatisfying pleasure. She turned around several times and was fucking him furiously while he could not move a single finger.

Then her pussy got even tighter und Withers felt that she was close to an orgasm. She was fucking him wildly now and finally screamed like the whole neighbourhood must know that she was cumming right now.

In that moment, Withers was free to cum himself. His orgasm was the most intense feeling he ever felt in his life but yet he could not move, not even whimper, what doubled the pleasure once more. His body automatically pumped his semen in Annes pussy, load after load.

Finally, Anne rolled herself to the side and breathed heavily. Some moments later, the strength came back in his muscles and he sat up, covering himself.

“Ahm... Anne? Are you ok?”

“I’m ok, Chief. But I’m SO sorry!”

“You don’t need to be! But how is this going on?”

Anne rose to her feet, still naked and with his cum running down her left leg.

“I feel like I have to send this video to a certain mail adress immediately.”

Withers screamed.

“Don’t!”

“I’m sorry... I can’t help it. Maybe you can stop me from doing it?”

But Withers found that he couldn’t.

Naked and cum-smeared, Anne left with the camera, looking for her parents’ laptop.