The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Cindy was a whore. She knew this. She wasn’t proud of it, but neither was she ashamed of it. It was who she was.

Cindy was a squaw, a Native American woman. She was a small woman with jet black hair and a boyish figure. She performed with the Merrimac Island Dancers of Merrimac, North Carolina.

Once upon a time, Merrimac was a little fishing village on Merrimac Island in Pamlico Sound. The only access to the island was by boat. But then bad times came, many of the fishers moved on, and the village nearly folded. However, a couple of rich businessmen saw an opportunity and established the Merrimac Island Yachting Club. Since then, Merrimac has become a major port of call for sailors and yachtsmen traveling up and down the Intracoastal Waterway.

One day, Cindy caught the ferry to Merrimac Island. She was looking for work. She’d hoped to get a job with one of the many businesses that catered to the rich folk who visited the island. She’d studied ballet and modern dance when she was younger. Well, she’d taken a few ballet lessons and learned a few tribal dances from her elders. So, she considered joining the Merrimac Island Dancers.

However, the Merrimac Island Dancers were not who Cindy and most people thought they were. The Merrimac Island Dancers were actually top-grade prostitutes. Although they did dance publicly to keep up appearances, most of their money came from having sex with the rich seafarers who frequented the marinas and the Merrimac Island Yacht Club.

The money the dancers received for sexual work went to the troupe, and the dancers would then receive a salary from Merrimac Island Dancers, Inc.. Thus, should there be any legal trouble, their seafaring patrons could argue that they had not paid for sex with the dancers, but instead had made a financial contribution to the troupe.

Any sex the patron happened to have with a dancer was strictly a personal and private affair between two consenting adults and not the result of a business transaction. At least, that was the official line. The truth was that these patrons, both men and women, were paying a lot of money to have sex with the dancer or dancers of their choice.

At first, Cindy was appalled at such duplicity and corruption. She certainly didn’t want to be a prostitute, either. But when she learned how much the dancers made, Cindy quickly changed her attititude. After all, she did have some dance experience, and she knew how to fuck. So, she begged Ms. Jacqui, the “Boss Lady” of the Merrimac Island Dancers, to let her join the dance troupe. Ms. Jacqui agreed and set her up in a bungalow with two other dancers, Maggie and Karyn.

However, Cindy quickly learned that the Merrimac Island Dancers were way beyond anything she’d done before. For one thing, the Island Dancers danced more than she had thought they did. Another thing, the dancers weren’t just prostitutes. They were courtesans, a type of high-class prostitutes. So, Cindy had to learn proper etiquette and courtesy.

However, one of the biggest adjustments Cindy had to make was having sex with other women. Before joining the troupe, Cindy had rarely done anything more than kiss or hug another woman. However, since joining the Merrimac Island Dancers, Cindy has not only slept with women, she quickly has become very popular with the troupe’s lesbian patrons. As a result, most of her regular clients were now women.

The irony was that Cindy preferred men. She slept with women to pay the bills, but she loved sucking cock. So, whenever Ms. Jacqui offered her an opportunity to “entertain” a male patron, Cindy would jump at the chance. Dr. Clint was one such patron.

According to Ms. Jacqui, Dr. Clint was a scientist of some renown. His yacht would be berthed at the Merrimac Yacht Club for several days, and he wanted some female companionship. He’d heard “good things” about Cindy, and he wanted to find out for himself if what he’d heard was true. So, Ms. Jacqui instructed Cindy to dress simply, pack light, and plan to spend several days with Dr. Clint on his yacht.

By telling Cindy to “dress simply” and “pack light”, Ms. Jacqui was telling Cindy that Dr. Clint was a horny bastard, and Cindy would be spending a lot of time naked and on her back. So, Monday evening, Cindy pulled on a black camisole, blue lowrider jeans over black thong panties, and a pair of black sling-back shoes. Then she stuffed a small duffel bag with an assortment of underwear, swimwear, sleepwear, and toiletries and arrived at the yacht club just after sunset.

Having been to the yacht club often, many people recognized her and more than a few of them had a damn good idea why she was there. So, gaining entrance to the docks was no problem. Getting to Dr. Clint’s yacht was a different story.

Dr. Clint’s yacht was not berthed where Ms. Jacqui had told Cindy it would be, nor was Dr. Clint. Instead, Dr. Clint’s launch was there. His launch, a small motorboat, was there to take Cindy to the yacht, which was anchored in Merrimac Harbor. Helming the launch was a young Polynesian woman named Jasmine. She identified herself as Dr. Clint’s pilot.

Ms. Jacqui liked for her dancers to keep a diary of their “business experiences.” However, she urged her dancers not to use their clients real or full names in their reports. So, Cindy had gotten into the habit of mentally creating aliases for the people she met. Thus, Dr. Clint’s pilot, Jasmine, became “Captain Jazz” to her.

“Captain Jazz” didn’t look much older than Cindy, and she certainly wasn’t any taller. She looked like a cross between a Japanese school girl and a sea captain. She had long black hair and long legs encased in black nylon hose. She wore a pleated, navy blue, knee-length skirt; a navy blue blazer, a white blouse, and a black tie. Jasmine spoke with a highly polished British accent.

Cindy couldn’t help wonder why Dr. Clint would want her when he had someone like Captain Jazz working for him. Then, she told herself that Dr. Clint was probably tired of having Polynesian all the time and wanted a little Indian for a change. Amused by her own little joke, Cindy allowed the young Polynesian woman to help her board the launch as if Cindy was an older woman of some importance. Then, she sat back as Captain Jazz piloted the small boat out into the harbor towards a large yacht.

Cindy had spent enough time, the past 19 months, with sailors and boaters to know a little about boats. From what she could tell, Dr. Clint’s yacht looked to be at least a 120 footer. It was definitely an ocean-going vessel.

At the stern or back of the ship—it was definitely a ship and not a boat- on the lowest of the three exposed decks, stood a blond man with a ponytail and a goatee. He was a relatively slender white man of average height, and he had strong, hairy arms. The man wore sandals, khaki slacks, a flowery “Hawaiian” print shirt, dark sunglasses, and a white captain’s hat. It was a costume that Cindy had seen worn many times before in at the marina.

The man welcomed Cindy on board and introduced himself as Dr. Clint, taking Cindy’s duffel from her. He, like Captain Jazz, had a highly polished English accent, but his accent had a slight Scandinavian or German undertone to it. Even stranger was the way he said his name. He spoke his name as if “Doctor” was his first name. So Cindy began thinking of him as “Doctor Clint” instead of “Dr. Clint”.

On board the ship, Doctor Clint treated Cindy and Captain Jazz to a light supper. During the supper, Doctor Clint also treated Cindy and Captain Jazz to his lecture on “The Use of Biochemicals in Behavioural Control.” Cindy listened politely but didn’t really pay much attention to it. It much too boring, and she didn’t understand what Doctor Black was talking about.

When supper was done, Doctor Black handed Cindy’s duffel bag to Captain Jazz. He directed Captain Jazz to show Cindy where the head (or bathroom) was. He wanted Cindy to be sure and freshen up before they got down to business. Once Captain Jazz had shown Cindy where the head was, she was to place Cindy’s bag in his bedroom. Then, Captain Jazz was to get the ship underway. They, Doctor Clint informed Cindy, would be taking them on a little cruise around Pamlico Sound.

Having been on several “little cruises” already around the sound, Cindy was not all concerned. So, she followed Captain Jazz to the head. Then, after retrieving some toiletry items from her bag, she allowed Captain Jazz to take the bag away, and she and the other woman parted. Cindy closed the door and proceeded to freshen up. However, before she could finish, she heard the ship’s engines start and felt the ship get underway.

When Cindy had finished with her toiletries, she left the lavatory and found Doctor Clint in what was either a small library or office. Shelves and cabinets lined the bulkheads of the window-less cabin. On the starboard (right) side of the cabin stood a desk with an executive chair behind it. The top of the desk was completely bare. On the port (left) side of the cabin was a sofa, a coffee table, and two chairs. Doctor Clint sat on the sofa.

Doctor Clint had changed clothes. He was no longer wearing his “laid-back sailor suit.” He’d even taken off his dark glasses, and Cindy could see his black eyes beneath his bushy black eyebrows. Now, he simply wore a red and black kimono. He didn’t even wear any underwear. Cindy knew this because she could see his limp dick and heavy balls through an opening in the kimono.

However, his little flash of flesh didn’t faze Cindy one bit, and she and Doctor Clint got down to business. First, he and Cindy coordinated expectations. That is, Doctor Clint expected Cindy to act out certain BDSM fantasies with him. Cindy in turn expected him to pay her a lot of money for acting out his fantasies. Once they understood what each wanted, Doctor Clint told Cindy to take off all her clothes.

Cindy kicked off her shoes, walked to the center of the room, and pulled off her camisole. Then off came her jeans and her panties. When Cindy was completely naked, she picked her clothes off the floor and gently laid them on one of the chairs beside the sofa. Then, she stepped back and let Doctor Clint admire her nude form.

Dr. Clint took his time and enjoyed the view. Cindy knew that he liked what he saw because she saw his dick stiffen and poke out of his robe. However, he made no attempts to cover himself. Instead, he had Cindy turn around and assume several different positions so that he could thoroughly study her brown little body. When he was done, he had her go bend over the desk.

Cindy immediately turned around, walked over to the clean desk and bent over it. She fully expected the top of the desk to be cold. She was not disappointed. She caught her breath as her exposed flesh made contact with the chilled desktop. Since he wanted to act out a BDSM fantasy, Cindy also fully expected Doctor Clint to give her an immediate spanking (or whipping, or caning). However, this time she was mistaken.

Doctor Clint got off of the sofa and slipped on a pair of rubber gloves. Then, he pulled a small bottle of lotion from a pocket of his kimono and stood behind Cindy. He told her to spread her legs and reach back and spread her butt cheeks. When she had done as instructed, Doctor Clint squatted directly behind her and began smearing lotion in and around Cindy’s butthole.

Cindy had been sodomized many times, starting with Rafe. So, her asshole was not at all tight, and Doctor Clint’s fingers easily slipped inside her. She grunted when his fingers initially pushed past her anal ring, but otherwise she made no sound. He asked if he was hurting her, but Cindy assured him that she was in no pain.

Doctor Clint grunted something unintelligible and inserted something small, hard, and round deep inside her rectum. When she asked him what that was, he told her that it was a special aphrodisiac he wanted to try out on her—or rather in her.

Then, he pulled off his gloves and gave her a firm swat on her fanny. Cindy yelped as much in surprise as in pain, releasing her grip on her buttocks. He told her that the swat was for being too nosy. He then put on a new pair of gloves, reached down, and started playing with her clitoris. For some reason at this point, Cindy began thinking of him as “Doctor Clit.”

Cindy started groaning loudly and yelling how much she liked his touch. This was because, as with her ass, a lot of different people (women more than men) have played with her button. They usually expected Cindy to make a lot of noise when they did. When she didn’t, they (men more than women) were often disappointed. So, she realized that she hadn’t made much noise when Doctor Clit was greasing her asshole. But, she decided that she would make up for it by acting as if his stroking her was turning her on.

However, Doctor Clit was not impressed. He could tell from looking at her crotch, that she wasn’t as aroused as she wanted him to think. So, he slapped her butt again and demanded that she stopped moaning and groaning.

He didn’t want to fake her it, he told her, but instead wanted her to do her best to remain silent. That way when she did react to his stimulation, he would know that the aphrodisiac was working. With Cindy thoroughly admonished, Doctor Clit then resumed his gentle manipulation of her clitoris.

Cindy understood it was a contest. This wasn’t too unusual, since guys always wanted to compete. She also understood that this was a test of endurance, of her patience. Cindy, though, was up to the challenge.

So she braced herself and did her best not to make any sort of sound. And, after several minutes, the most he’d gotten out of her was a couple of grunts and a snort. In fact, she was so successful at controlling herself that she knew it would be quite some time before she even started moaning and groaning.

But even as she was thinking this, his finger brushed her clit once again, and she suddenly caught her breath. Another stroke, and she yelped. He stroked her again, and she clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. But, then he stroked her yet again.

She arched her back, cried out, and came. However, Doctor Clit didn’t stop. He stroked her one more time. Her muscles convulsed. She screamed uncontrollably and incoherently. Her mind exploded, and then there was darkness.