The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I entered the office and walked directly to the front desk.

“Good morning, ma’am,” said the blonde receptionist. Her name tag identified her as ‘Janice’. “Welcome to New Direction High School. Can I help you?”

“Good morning,” I said. “I’m Clarissa Watson. I believe Mister Thomas is expecting me?”

The receptionist looked at me. She appeared a few years older than my twenty-five, but not much. Her blonde hair was salon-styled and accentuated by stylish glasses. Her red lips perfectly matched her fingernails, which were long, bright-red acrylics. Her clothes were far too tight and showed way too much cleavage, and her appearance would have been far more appropriate in a bar as opposed to the front desk of a high school. Still, that was the principal’s problem, not mine.

“Oh, yes, Miss Watson,” she said. “One moment, please.”

She picked up the phone and hit a button. “Jeff?” she said. “The student teacher is here.”

She listened for a moment, then hung up.

“The Director will see you now. Right this way, please,” she said.

I paused for a moment, making sure my floor-length skirt and conservative blouse were straight. Satisfied they were projecting efficient professionalism, I then followed the mini-skirted receptionist down a short hall until we stopped at a closed door. She tapped on the door with her knuckles.

The door was opened by a woman about my age who was dressed quite similar to the receptionist. The woman’s skirt, however, was riding high enough that I was able to see her pink panties beneath the hem. She must have noticed my glance, because she suddenly tugged her skirt down into a more appropriate position. As appropriate as a mini-skirt can be in a school environment, at any rate. With a blush, the woman scooted past us and headed down the hall.

“Is that the secretary?” I asked, watching her jiggle down the hallway.

“Secretary?” said Janice. “No. Didi teaches Algebra.”

“Didi?” I said.

“Deanna,” said Janice. “But everyone calls her Didi.”

I found it odd that an instructor would go by the name ‘Didi’ in an academic setting, but this office apparently tended toward the informal. I forgot about her and turned toward the office to meet my temporary boss, Mister Thomas.

He was a middle-aged, somewhat portly man with a bright smile and energetic presence. Surprisingly- or maybe not, considering how everybody else was dressed- he wasn’t wearing a tie or even a button-up shirt. He sat back looking quite comfortable in a collared polo shirt and, for all I knew, probably sweat pants and sandals. He looked more like a gym teacher than a program director. They certainly took casual to extremes here.

“Come in, Clarissa,” he said. Janice stepped to the side to let me pass, then left to presumably return to the front desk. I entered and took a seat in front of his desk. There was a large crystal paper weight directly in front of me.

“Good morning, Mister Thomas,” I said. “Thank you for allowing me do my student teaching in your facility.”

“Call me Jeff,” he said. “Everybody else does. And we’re glad to have you. Besides the obvious benefit of having another instructor on site with no additional cost to our budget, we get the benefit of watching you grow with our students.”

Practical and philosophical. My new boss was a deep well...or at least he wanted me to think so. Still, he was right. As a student teacher, I was the equivalent of a medical intern...a professional working for free for a semester. As far as “watching me grow with their students”...well, from what I had seen so far, I presented far more professionally than his staff, but it could hardly benefit me to verbalize that particular observation. Besides, once Mister Thomas saw what I was capable of doing, there was a very good chance he would offer me a position, since this was my last semester of graduate school.

“I’m really glad to be here, sir,” I said. “I’m looking forward to showing you what I can do.”

Mister Thomas leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his stomach. “Call me Jeff,” he said. “So tell me, Clarissa...are you familiar with our program here at New Direction High?”

I gave a brief nod. “Somewhat, Mister Thomas,” I said. “My understanding is that you work with at-risk students here. That is to say, students considered to be at risk of dropping out of high school.”

“You are correct, Clarissa,” he said. “New Direction gives these students a new setting and employs positive reinforcement to encourage them to stay in school and get their high school diploma. We’re an accredited part of the Chrystal Heights school system, so the requirements are the same as they are in any high school. The primary difference is that our approach to reaching these students is somewhat less structured than a traditional school setting. We simply want to give these students a chance to succeed.”

Hence the less-structured dress code. Whatever. The idea was sound enough in its own way. However, I had no intention of easing off on my appearance or presentation. There was no way I was showing up at school dressed like I was at a bar.

I nodded. “Of course, sir,” I said. “An admirable goal. I’m proud to be a part of your effort.”

I made sure to look as sincere as possible. I didn’t want him to think I was mocking him. Fortunately he took my words at face value.

“Of course,” he said. “We’re glad to have you on board.”

I shifted. The crystal paperweight was reflecting light into my eyes, distracting. I blinked and shook my head. Then realizing Mister Thomas was watching me, I re-focused.

“Sorry, sir,” I said. “Ummm...may I ask what my duties will be?”

The director chuckled. “’Duties?’” he said, his inflection adding the quotes to the word. “You strike me as being a bit conservative, Clarissa.”

I smiled at the compliment. “I prefer the term ‘professional,’ sir. And yes, I do believe there are minimum standards for someone in my position and I strive to meet those standards, Mister Thomas.”

He smiled at that. “Very well, Clarissa. And please, call me Jeff,” he said. “As for your ‘duties,’ you’ll be covering for our English instructor Annie while she’s out on maternity leave. Darling girl.”

I nodded. “Her husband must be thrilled.”

Mister Thomas shook his head. “No husband,” he said. “No boyfriend we’re even aware of, for that matter.”

My eyes widened slightly. “You had an unwed pregnant woman teaching at-risk dropout students?”

Mister Thomas chuckled. “We have a pretty progressive approach here, Clarissa,” he said. “Pregnant women happen.”

I mentally shrugged. “Of course,” I said. “I wouldn’t presume to question policy.” Actually, I did presume to do so, but not out loud. I knew enough to pick my battles wisely.

“I’m glad to hear that, Clarissa,” he said. “With that in mind, I’m going to ask you to dress a little less conservatively, okay? As a matter of policy.”

I paused only briefly before answering. The crystal paperweight was again reflecting directly into my eyes. It was a truly distracting placement for that particular desk ornament. “Of course, Mister Thomas,” I said.

“Please, call me Jeff,” he said.

We concluded the interview a short time later. Mister Thomas then escorted me to my classroom for my first period class. I was going to cover a total of three classes.

They were a noisy group, with laughter and shouts sounding from all corners. Several students were throwing wadded paper at each other and one couple was making out. Another student was performing a fairly obscene but surprisingly fluid dance move that appeared to defy at least one and possibly three laws of physics.

Mister Thomas high-fived one student and performed a complicated handshake maneuver that bordered on assault with another. Then he raised his hands to get everyone’s attention.

“All right, people,” he said. “Settle down.”

Surprisingly, they complied relatively quickly. There was a scraping of chairs as several bottoms hit seats simultaneously.

“Very good,” he said. “Now, as you know, Annie’s gone on maternity leave and she won’t be back until next semester. So everyone say hello to Clarissa, who’s going to be covering for Annie until then.”

There was a light smattering of applause, along with several cat-calls and whistles.

“Woot woot! I’m hot for teacher!”

“Way to go, Jeff! Check out dat ass!”

“Hey, teacher! I brought my pencil!”

“That’s what I’m talking about!”

Mister Thomas laughed good-naturedly at their hoots and hollers. Realizing my mouth was agape, I snapped my jaw shut and covered my shock by smiling and giving a small finger-wave. Had the director taken leave of his senses? Had he really just introduced me to a group of hoodlums by my first name and practically encouraged their raucous greeting?

They finally settled down- more or less- and Mister Thomas nodded. “All right, then,” he said, “I’ll leave you all to it. And Clarissa, welcome to New Direction High.”

At the end of my third class, I left the classroom and went to check in with Mister Thomas. My head was whirling.

“Come in, Clarissa. Have a seat.”

I once again took the seat in front of his desk. I shifted, trying to avoid the reflection of the crystal paperweight. I finally gave up and ignored it.

Mister Thomas smiled. “So how was your first day?”

“That’s a...tough...group of kids,” I said carefully. I was mentally exhausted, although I wasn’t going to admit that.

The director laughed. “True,” he said. “They’re all good kids, though. They just need the right motivation. That’s your job, Clarissa. To provide the right motivation. I’m sure you’ll be great.”

I jumped suddenly, realizing I had been nodding off as Mister Thomas spoke. Hopefully he hadn’t noticed.

“It’s...it’s going to be a wonderful challenge, Mister Thomas,” I said. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Clarissa,” he said. “Now you’ve got your schedule and your ‘duties,’ so to speak. Today is Monday. Come by Friday after class and we’ll review your performance. Sound good?”

I took a deep breath and nodded. “Absolutely, sir. And thank you again. I won’t let you down.”

It was a long week. The kids weren’t bad kids, but they weren’t overly motivated either. Trying to get them interested in anything literature-related was like trying to give birth to a baby elephant. So when I entered Mister Thomas’ office on Friday after class, I was feeling somewhat apprehensive.

“Come in, Clarissa. Sit down.”

I sat down. That irritating crystal paperweight was already reflecting in my eyes. I reached out to adjust it, but a quick glance at Mister Thomas’ face gave me the impression that he didn’t like people touching things on his desk. I pulled my hand back to my lap.

Mister Thomas leaned back in his seat and folded his hands over his stomach. “So how did your first week go, Clarissa?”

I smiled and tried to sound as upbeat as possible.

“It went well, I think,” I said. “The dynamics of the classroom relations are, of course, making me think outside the box to make sure I can take it to the next level by applying the right synergy for a proactive paradigm shift—”

“Clarissa,” he said, stopping me with a hand, “do you have any idea what you just said?”

“Ummmm...”

“That’s what I thought,” he said. “Look, I know it was your first week and that’s always the toughest. I think you’re so focused on presenting what you think we want to see, you’re forgetting your audience. Instead of focusing on what you think we want to see, consider what your students are interested in. Stop trying to force the knowledge into their heads. Give them something interesting and you might find them learning by accident.”

“You mean...trick them into learning?”

Mister Thomas considered that. “I don’t know if I’d phrase it quite like that, but in a way, that’s pretty accurate. You’re on the other side of the fence from them right now. Step over to their side and say hello. You might be surprised.”

“I...I’ll try, sir.” I said, blinking as that stupid crystal paperweight twinkled in my eyes.

“Good,” he said. “I’ll see you Monday morning, then.”

Monday morning. I took a deep breath and knocked on Mister Thomas’ door.

“Come in.”

I entered the office and took the offered seat, trying to angle away from the glittering crystal paperweight. Unfortunately, there appeared to be no safe angle.

“Good morning, Clarissa,” said the director.

“Good morning, Jeff...err, Mister Thomas, I mean.”

He looked me over. I was wearing a knee-length skirt and a peasant blouse that showed a bit more cleavage than I was comfortable with. It was the only thing close to casual I had at the moment that could at least pass for semi-professional.

Finally he nodded. “Better than last week, I must say,” he said. “The shoes are a bit severe, though, aren’t they?”

I glanced at my feet. “They’re sensible shoes, sir.”

“Ahh, I see,” he said. “They’re nice enough, I suppose, but the kids will probably relate to you a little better if you dress with a bit more style. Just a suggestion, of course.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said vaguely, studying the glittering crystal paperweight. It was quite distracting.

“Clarissa?”

“Oh!” I said, jumping. “I’m sorry, Jeff! My mind just wandered for a moment. I mean, Mister Thomas.”

He laughed. “No problem, Clarissa,” he said. “Now go to class and check in with me afterward, okay?”

I stood up. “I will, sir.”

Three hours later I was heading for the director’s office. My classes were done and I couldn’t wait to get home.

Today had been a little easier. Strangely enough, Mister Thomas’ words were true. The kids had seemed to respond to me a bit better today. They were still rude and obnoxious, but not quite as bad as the previous day.

“So how did it go today, Clarissa?” asked Mister Thomas as I plopped into the chair.

“Fine, fine,” I said. “It was...it was a little better today.”

“Good. Glad to hear it,” he said. Then he glanced over the front edge of his desk with raised eyebrows. “Bare feet, Clarissa? You’ve certainly embraced our casual approach, I see.”

I laughed ruefully and blushed, realizing I had actually forgotten my shoes. They were still back in the classroom.

“I’m sorry about that, Jeff,” I said, watching the glittering crystal paperweight. “The shoes were bothering me, so I took them off. I just forgot to put them back on.” I didn’t want to admit that I had taken my shoes off halfway through the first class and the class had seemingly become more receptive to my lesson once I had done that. I had put my shoes back on for the second period, but removed them halfway through class again and again the class had seemed a bit more receptive. I left them off for third period and the whole class had gone well.

“It’s not a problem, Clarissa,” he said. “I’d be quite the hypnocrit...er, hypocrite if I suggested you dress more casual and then disciplined you for doing it, wouldn’t I?”

I giggled. “I’ll wear more comfortable shoes tomorrow. I promise.”

“Very good, Clarissa,” he said. “I’m getting a good feeling about your positive approach. Keep up the good work.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said.

“All right, then,” he said. “I’ll see you next Monday morning. And call me Jeff. Everybody does.”

The following Monday morning, I found myself standing in Mister Thomas’ office feeling apprehensive once again. This time, however, it was for a different reason.

“Well, now,” he said, looking me up and down. He was quiet for several seconds. Then he said, “That’s quite an improvement.”

I exhaled in relief. I had been rigid with anxiety, positive he was going to throw me out of his office and tell me to go home and dress more appropriately.

“Thank you, Jeff,” I said, knees still weak. “So this is okay?”

“Certainly, Clarissa,” he said. “Those tight jeans with the red high heels showing off your derriere is a good way to hold their attention. But I have to hand it to you...that red tank top baring your navel is a great touch. You’re doing well so far, particularly for a student teacher. You are embracing our progressive methodology much quicker than I expected.”

“Thank you, Jeff!” I said. “I told you I wouldn’t let you down.”

Mister Thomas chuckled. “Just keep working on it, okay?” he said. “Don’t rest on your laurels. Keep striving to do what it takes to relate to these kids. You can do it!”

I nodded. “Yes, sir!” I said. “No laurel resting. I promise!”

I turned and made my way toward my classroom, hips rolling as my heels clicked the tile floors.

“So tell me,” I said, looking around the classroom as I spoke, “as you read Poe’s ‘The Raven,’ what’s the first impression we get from the narrator?”

The room was quiet as the students mulled over my question. Finally a tentative hand rose.

“Yes, Fred?”

“Well, the guy seemed kinda intense, y’know? Real...I don’t know...like, focused and shit, but on weird stuff, y’know?”

I walked across the front of the classroom, nodding encouragingly. All eyes followed me.

“That’s a good start, Fred. Anyone else?”

Another hand rose.

“Yes, Lori?”

“The guy was a nut job, I think,” she said. “I mean, he’s talking about sitting up at night and seeing ghosts on the floor and all that jazz. It’s like he’s losing it, you know?”

“Yeah!” said another student. “He’s talking to an effing bird! That’s crazy, right?”

“It’s because he misses his girl though, yo,” said yet another. “Bitch done broke his heart.”

Oh, gawd. The students were actually discussing the poem with interest and ideas. I was getting through to them! It was...it was positively arousing! My nipples even hardened, pressing out against my tank top.

Incredible. Jeff was right. I was getting through to them. All I had to do was relax my dress code a little.

Once again it was Monday morning in the director’s office. Once again I sat in front of Jeff’s desk. This time, however, I was trying to contain my enthusiasm. I was trying to appear somewhat detached from my success, as if I had expected it.

“It went quite well, Jeff. They were hanging on my every word.” I leaned back in my chair, absently massaging my breasts as I recalled the thrill of commanding their attention. “I’m not surprised, though. I mean, they’re great kids.”

Jeff chuckled. “It sounds like you’re getting more comfortable,” he said. “I knew you had it in you. I assume you’re feeling a bit more progressive now?”

“Oh, yes,” I said, wriggling in the chair. Gawd, I was hot. The rush from getting through to the kids was intoxicating.

The director smiled. “I must say you’re adapting quickly. You’re really stepping up.”

My hips bucked slightly at his moderate inflection of ‘up.’ I was embarrassingly aroused. I was actually wet...very wet. I stared at the glittering crystal paperweight, trying to re-focus myself.

“You’re molding young minds, Clarissa,” continued Jeff, “and there’s no finer calling.”

I writhed in the chair, nearly mewling. I couldn’t help it. I was turning into a wet mess right there in front of the director. “Y-Yes...sir...young minds...”

“Shaping the ideas of the future,” he said.

I squeezed my hands between my thighs, but it was no good. My sex was so sensitive, even the pressure from my hands on top of my jeans was making my heat grow. “F-Future...”

“That’s right, Clarissa,” he said. “Knowledge is power...and you’re giving that power. You must continue to give power, Clarissa. Give...power...!”

It was too much. The pressure between my thighs, my wet, twitching pussy, the glittering crystal, the force of Jeff’s voice...it all came together and I cried out as I exploded into orgasm. My hips bucked, then writhed in helpless heat as wave after wave of intensity swept over me. I closed my eyes as I rode the pleasure through the peaks, the drops, the whirl of heat and release...

Suddenly I gasped and my eyes popped open. Omigod! I had just orgasmed in front of Mister Thomas...in front of the director...IN FRONT OF THE DIRECTOR! My world crashed as the clarity and significance of what had just happened became clear.

Mister Thomas laughed.

I stared, dumbfounded. “Sir...?”

Mister Thomas laughed again. “Let me guess,” he said. “You just had a- pardon me for pointing it out- but you just experienced an orgasm, didn’t you?”

Cheeks burning, I nodded and dropped my gaze. I wanted badly to fall into a deep hole right now.

“Well, good,” he said. “I’m glad that’s out of the way.”

I looked up. “I’m...I’m sorry...?”

“You had an orgasm, right? Well, so what? Do you think you’re the first student teacher to sit there having an orgasm after experiencing the rush of expanding the mind of our young charges?”

“Ummm...yes, actually, I do think that...”

“Well, you’re not,” he said, sitting back and folding his hands over his stomach. “Pretty common, in fact. Hell, sometimes it happens on the first day.”

I blinked, trying to formulate a coherent sentence. “You...you mean it’s...”

“Perfectly normal? Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. And now that it’s out of the way, you can get back to concentrating on keeping their attention focused on you. You’ve embraced the progressive approach and you’re making it your own. You’ve done well. Now go home, pick your outfit for tomorrow and revel in the fact that every student you have is probably thinking about you. About you.”

Oh, gawd. He was...he was right. Jeff was right! I was born to be a teacher. This was the greatest profession ever. My knees were weak. I was getting hot again.

Mister Thomas took out his appointment book and made some notes. “Keep up the good work, Clari,” he said. “I’ll see you next Monday morning.”

The following Monday morning, I arrived once again tingling with apprehension. On my way to Jeff’s office, Janice the receptionist waved to me.

“Good morning, Clair Bear!” she said. “Omigod...you look great!”

I smiled and blushed. I was feeling super self-conscious- I had never worn anything like this before- but Janice was making me feel better.

“Thanks, Janice,” I said.

I made my way to Jeff’s office and tapped on the door with my new half-inch bright red acrylic nails. I waited until he bid me enter, then opened the door and walked in.

“Well, now,” said Jeff, looking me up and down. “There’s a student’s inspiration if I’ve ever seen one. Well done, Clarissa!”

I exhaled with relief. The director had just complimented my outfit! Score!

I had certainly stressed enough over the ensemble. Attempting to work in the dress code while remaining professional certainly hadn’t been easy. My flippy mini-skirt was so short that the bottom of the pink panties I had initially worn had been visible. Visible panties certainly weren’t professional, so I removed them and wore a thong instead. The breeze across the bottom of my bare butt cheeks was an unusual sensation, but sacrifices had to be made to maintain a proper appearance. And I made sure the skirt was black, to maintain academic dignity. Of course, the strappy red high heels put my legs and bottom on display, but that would help maintain the students’ attention while I was teaching, and my bright red toenails matched the shoes perfectly. The red tube top encircling my breasts was a bit too tight- my hard nipples were plainly visible- but that would keep the students focused on me and the lessons I was teaching, rather than them drifting off or daydreaming. My red lipstick, of course, gave shape to my words of wisdom as I molded their young minds.

Jeff shook his head in amazement. “Clari,” he said, “I’m amazed. I feel like I have nothing left to teach you. If you can’t capture their hearts and minds in that outfit, then the fault lies with them, not you.”

I closed my eyes, heart racing with excitement. My thoughts were racing faster than I could keep up.

“I’ll tell you what,” said Jeff, apparently sensing I was having trouble even formulating words. “Why don’t you go teach your classes and come back afterward? I have some things I need to take care of right now, so we’ll have our meeting when you’re done with your schedule for the day.”

I nodded. “You got it, Jeffy! I’ll be right here!”

“Good, good,” he said, smiling. “I’ll see you then.”

As it turned out, however, I didn’t quite go straight to his office after I was done teaching my classes. I stopped off at the staff room bathroom first. I needed some relief.

The day’s classes had gone really well. Fantastic, even! I couldn’t believe I had ever doubted the power of provocative dressing to get the students’ attention. They asked questions, ventured opinions, grasped concepts. It was an amazing experience.

I had found my calling. The thrill of filling their hungry minds with knowledge was so intense that I was literally on fire with arousal. What job was so rewarding that success actually made you crazy hot? I nearly had three orgasms in my first class alone and a debate raged in my last class that had me pressing my thighs together, practically mewling in heated need. It was crazy hot!

So by the end of my final class, I needed some release stat. Hence my stop at the staff bathroom. I couldn’t believe I was actually at work with my panties around my ankles, sliding wet fingers over my throbbing clit, but there I was doing just that. Unfortunately, despite a series of hot little orgasms, the big satisfying climax was eluding me. And now I really was out of time.

I wasn’t happy about it, but it was time to meet with Jeff.

“Hello, Clarissa,” he said. “So how’d it go?”

“Oh, gawd,” I said, squirming in my chair, my lower lip caught between my teeth. My nipples were rock hard and my belly muscles were twitching in heat. “It went great. Great!”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it and not a bit surprised,” he said. “You’ve really come a long way in just a few weeks, Clari.”

“Th-thank you, Jeffy,” I said, hips wriggling. “Thank you so much!”

“And now I’ve got something I’d like to talk to you about,” he said, standing up.

I stood up as well, my thighs rubbing together, praying he couldn’t tell how wet I was beneath my mini-skirt. “Yes?”

Jeff pulled open a desk drawer and took out a sheet of paper. He lay the paper on the desk between us and then set the crystal paperweight on top of it to keep it from being blown off the desk. Then he walked around the desk and stood beside me.

“Take a look at it,” he said.

The paper was on the far side of the desk, so I leaned forward so that my elbows rested on the desktop. Now I was close enough to read the wording on the paper, although the glittering from the crystal paperweight was distracting me. I was so busy trying to read the wording on the paper that I barely felt Jeff sliding my mini-skirt up over my hips. I absently parted my legs, so Jeff had little trouble sliding my panties down my thighs as I took in the wording.

“Wait a minute,” I said. “Is this really a...a...”

“A what, Clari?” said Jeff from behind me. I vaguely realized there was a thickness pressing from behind against my embarrassingly wet sex.

“A teaching contract...?” I gasped as that thickness parted my labia lips and entered my tight, wet pussy.”

“Yes,” said Jeff, shifting as he slid the full length of his thick cock inside me.

“Are you...are you...” I moaned, raising my ass as that cock hit every hot spot inside my pussy. “Are you offering me a job...?!”

“Yes, Clari,” said Jeff, thrusting into me as deep as he could. I gasped as his balls hit my swollen labia, sending vibrations through my clit directly into my belly. “You’ve really shown me something these past few weeks. You are exactly the kind of go-getter we want teaching the minds of tomorrow today.”

“Omigod,” I said, the crystal glittering right in front of me as I moaned, helpless to stop. “Omigod!”

“Is that a ‘yes’?” asked Jeff, stroking his cock into me again and again.

“Yes!” I said, heated explosions detonating in my belly as my crazy hot orgasm took over my body. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!”

“In that case, Clair Bear,” said Jeffy, his rigid cock exploding inside me, “Welcome to New Direction High.”