The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Holy shit, he did it.

Serene watched wide-eyed as the gangly, insecure twenty-something gunned down 4 beers in a row. This kid spent the evening alternating between explaining his dislike of alcohol and being too nervous to ask her to dance, and there he was out-drinking some jocular jock three times his size.

She wasn’t exactly watching this while seated.

Her dance partner was seated. She had her back to him, grinding her firm ass into his crotch. His member was so hard by now that her constant back and forth motions made things exactly like sex except for her French-cut panties and his jeans.

His only regret was not having a point of view that allowed him to see her amazing ass moving back and forth against his cock. He’d have to watch her lapdance for someone else to see those plump cheeks slide up and around a rod, flatten out on his muscular thighs, move out again, and come back for more. He wanted nothing more than to move those beautiful lace panties aside and return some of the pleasure.

He snaked his hand around her perfectly smooth thigh and placed his fingers on top of her love mound.

“OK, here comes the hand,” thought Serene as she remembered her training. With a deft and gentle movement she placed her hand on his and moved it back up to her large breasts. Her company trained its dancers to perform this dance move to save face. She never had to say “no” and it looked like she wanted his hands there.

She even moaned in pleasure as his hands rubbed around the vast underside of her breast and finally found the nipple. With a natural chest of that size, no one ever stopped playing with them unless they really had to. The song ended, so he really had to.

The bachelor party was in full swing so she had given up on constantly restoring the mini skirt. Now that they’d seen what she could do it was never that long before another man would pull her over for service. She put on her bra with the same showwomanship she removed it with, half-closed her heavily eyelined eyes, and blew a pouty good-bye kiss to her latest conquest. Her six inch heels took her back to a spot in the room where someone could notice her availability.

He loved watching her walk away as the arousal from having a hot young woman on your cock was replaced with the arousal one finds looking at internet photos. The French-cut panties had ended up wedged in her derriere. The heels strained the muscles in her calves and thighs while pronouncing the soft curve of her ass even harder. Those shoes left her petite frame on tiptoes at just the right angle to be bent over a table and fucked.

She knew it too.

She placed both hands on a nearby table, bent over slightly, and waited. Between the people at the table looking into the deep valley of her cleavage and the people behind her looking at the 21-year old, dance-major body it wouldn’t be long at all. Sure enough a $20...err...a client approached her and the cycle began anew.

She had to know where the inebriated bean pole found the courage to outdrink someone at a 150-pound disadvantage AND waltz right up to her sexy bottom with a playful slap and a command to dance. With a deft neck movement she tossed her silky hair entirely behind her and faced him.

She didn’t have to feign lust because it was painted over her eyelids.

She stepped forward into him with a sexy gaze and clutched his shirt with both hands. He smiled as he stepped back, reverse-leading her to a chair that he had to fall into when she backed his calves into it. Everyone saw a girl who couldn’t wait to get to work. No one saw a clever ruse to deny him access to her ass. “Give but don’t let them take,” one of the training mantras repeated in her head.

She gave him her money-making melons and he couldn’t help but run his mouth. Mr. Scrawny here was the best man, and the groom was a great friend that just inspired him to cut loose and party.

It was getting late and Serene’s mind was nearly on her next event when a few boys walked over and began combining $20 bills into one collection. Serene knew this was the private dance for the groom. They were wrong to think they were original and clever with this idea but right to think they were good friends.

Serene’s private dances were known to make men regret getting married.

She took the money, restored her mini skirt and tube top for a better strip show, and led the lucky bachelor by his tie to his guest room as the DJ fired up some trance music.

The music was soft in the private room. The bass oozed through the door as the least muffled part of the song. It pulsed steadily and quickly. Even if it wasn’t her job, Serene’s hips just might have swayed anyway. With each thump of the bass her hips moved side to side as she turned around to show her firm backside to only him. Professional dancers worked very hard to be able to move their hips like that.

She stepped close enough for him to feel her firm ass. The muscles were clenched from the motion and from standing on the high heels. He traced his hands down the beautifully taut muscles in her thighs to savor the soft skin uninterrupted by fabric, then back up beneath the skirt. She took a step forward and pulled her skirt back down to its rightful place of 1 inch below her panties. She whipped her head around, tossing a flowing river of hair over her left shoulder and shot him a sultry glance. Her large, pouty lips informed him he was naughty for doing that, but the makeup painted on her eyes still said “come hither.”

“Yes, move to the rhythm. Feel the music flow through you and take over.”

Oh, right. It was quieter in here so she could hear him talk. She tried to engage in flirty banter but the customer didn’t want that.

Whatever, the money was good and this was probably the last time he’d ever get to tell a woman what to do.

“Let the beat take you over. Sway to the music. Let it fill your mind. Music is instructions. Music tells you what to do.”

Serene had removed her top and now straddled the lucky bachelor. Her bra was a little undersized and her large breasts looked larger due to the bra pressing down on the front part. This made them extra jiggly yet restrained, and she reserved moves taking advantage of this for her private dances.

This guy must have been a dance instructor, because his instructions made her moves work better.

The steady pulse moved her almost as much as she moved with it, and she shook her chest for his entertainment as she moved to straddle her client. Her mini skirt rode up without help from his hands as they roamed all over her back and backside. The sway of her hips was powerful enough to carry his hands with it and the two of them fell into a rhythm together.

“The music has you in a trance. The trance helps you dance. Is your dancing better now?”

“Yes,” she replied while putting both hands behind her back. This thrust her chest out even more and as the music filled her she began oscillating up and down with each beat, shaking her chest while unfastening the buttons on her mini skirt.

“Let the trance music fill your mind. Deeper. Let it help you dance. You love dancing, don’t you?”

“I love dancing,” she agreed as she tossed one end of her sweetly scented mini skirt around his neck and used it to draw him into her generous chest. He smiled into her soft orbs.. She started to grind her crotch against his, rhythmically, using her pussy and thighs to stroke him through his pants with the almost the same skill and precision as a hand.

“You love this dancing. You love this trance. You love this trance dance. As you lose clothing you go deeper into the trance. Your dance is about taking clothes off, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she barely mumbled in agreement as the pulsing beat took her hands behind her back so they could unclasp her bra. Something in her mind thought this would send her deeper into the trance and alone in a room with a man that might be bad, but her dance was to take off her clothes, wasn’t it? She loved dancing right?

“You love taking your clothes off for men. You love showing them your body.”

All that was true or else she wouldn’t do it for a living. She stood up with her bra in hand and turned around to sit back down on him. She released her bra to the floor as his hands came up to play with her breasts.

“You love this slutty dance. You love being slutty. That’s why you do it.”

Did she?

She wasn’t a slut. She was a professional dancing her way through an economics major. She was going to apply vector calculus and Nash games to economic theory and save the world’s economy.

“You love this dance.”

True.

“You love this trance.”

Same word? No, same thing? Yes. True.

“This dance has you grinding your pussy against a stranger’s crotch while he plays with your big titties.”

True.

“That’s a slutty dance.”

True.

“And you love it.”

It must be true.

“Every time you dance, you get better.”

She walked in here professionally unable to openly disagree with anyone. Between that and the avalanche of agreements she was now under, her mind was nearly on auto pilot.

“This is a slutty dance.”

Yes. The slutty dance ended when she stripped off her slut panties for a total stranger. She peeled out of those french-cut lace panties and let his hands run a whole mile down her legs until she stepped out of them, one leg at a time.

The motion forced her legs apart.

Her hips still swayed to the beat and without thinking, she bent over and showed him the kind of sway a lucky cock inside her would receive. And she fell further into the trance, further under the effects of the music, further into the rhythm, further influenced by what he was saying.

“So the more you dance, the sluttier you become.”

That made perfect sense.

A new trance song came on, this one a bit faster than the first. She let the music overtake her, fill her. She began to sway to it anew, too stuffed with beats to see the danger of how deeply she was under. He was on his feet dancing with her now. He was fully clothed and in power, she was naked and open to every sound and suggestion.

“You can say to me what sluts do.” The wording was carefully tailored to her agreeability. Orders are hardly ever agreed with.

Serene knew what sluts did. They fucked people. But she didn’t fuck people. She was a professional.

“A slut has no control over her own sexual desires.”

His hands roamed over her body now and went to her breasts again. He played with her nipples until they began to harden, creating sexual desire.

“A slut gets horny around men and can’t control herself.”

Oh, that made sense. But she was around men. And naked. And getting sluttier...

“A slut just lets herself get used by anyone because she feels so good to be used.”

He turned her around and pressed her back and backside into him. It felt kinda good, she thought. His hand snaked around her thigh and between her legs. Her dance still bade her to grind her firm ass into his crotch. His other hand was pinching her hard nipple. She gasped in double pleasure as her tranced mind tried to reconcile her obligation to keep dancing, how slutty she was getting, and the rules of her job. With a monumental effort, the move she’d practiced so many times before rescued her clit from the invading finger. Now she had two hands on her breasts.

“A slut loves to cum.”

That was certainly true. She got other men hard, but who got Serene off?

“A slut’s mind gets weaker when she cums. She loves to cum so when she does, she can’t wait to do it again.”

That made perfect sense.

“Sluts do all kinds of things so people will make them cum. Wear high heels. Wear heavy eye make up.”

Serena found herself turned around again so his hands could grope her ass. Even in heels her face could only bury itself in his chest, and she found herself raising one knee against his side to give him the standing grind dance of a lifetime. Two layers of clothing stood between them and fucking. This wasn’t her routine. Was she getting sluttier? Probably. He was describing her.

“Wear sexy underwear. Wear miniskirts. Then strip them all off for complete strangers. Give lap dances for a living.”

She could feel his hard cock through his pants with her cunt lips. Her breathing was heavy with exertion and heat. He pushed her shoulders away, keeping his crotch on hers and arching her back so he could stare into her eyes. They were half closed; the long eyelashes and heavy eye shadow made it look like she had already came. Her puffy lips were parted to let out short, ragged breaths as her chest and pelvis kept heaving in time with the rhythm. He stared into her half-closed, half-gone eyes and drove the important messages directly home.

“Every time you dance, you get sluttier. You’re a slut who loves to cum. Every time you cum, your mind gets weaker.”

With that, he released her and the song ended.

The messages were in and she was still pliable by agreement, so it was time to finish with a little fun.

“You are deeply in a trance now. You can’t go back out there entranced”

She stood there and watched him drop his pants. The erection she created stood tall and proud before her.

“You’re a slut who needs to suck my cock. You need it because when you swallow my cum, you will wake up and never consciously remember what happened here. You will get dressed and continue to entertain my friends.”

He couldn’t fuck her yet. That was forbidden by her company and going against a forbidden in a person’s mind is a great way to end the trance.

Having her on her knees servicing him would do for now.

Even though it was late the party didn’t seem to be winding down. Very shortly after she emerged from the private dance, there was practically a line of people that wanted another lap dance from her. This would be a record-breaking night if the $20s kept coming in at this rate.

Her first client after the private session seemed kind of fresh. She had to defend her vagina from him three times before he knew the score.

Still, something seemed strange. She was having a hard time keeping her professional detachment. Were her eyes encouraging him? It was only 30 seconds, but she put her elbows on his shoulders and ground her panties into his crotch as if he were a private customer. She felt a little flushed. Naughty even.

Her second client also found himself a nearly private treatment. She saw the line so between dances she only put her bra back on. She was skipping a lot of setup motions and spending more time in their laps. This was a great position because they could reach around and grab her ass or lick her nipples. He licked, sucked, and kissed her breasts and moved up to her neck. She moaned out in pleasure and did something strange. She kissed him. This wasn’t forbidden as much as it was a bad idea. It was a romantic gesture and her job is to make people think of fucking. She broke it off and found her bra again.

Her third client got frisky almost immediately and found a nice surprise before her hand got there. She was wet. The finger stroked her wet panties across the vaginal opening and she threw her head back to his shoulder and gasped in his ear.

She placed her hand on his but too feebly tried to move it. She begged him in a whisper not to do that but he just used his other hand to make her nipple hard. She was starting to feel like she needed to cum. She shifted positions and faced him so he couldn’t maintain his grip on her. Her humping of his groin was starting to lose the beat and gain some animalism. When the song ended, the fourth client pulled her over to his chair before she could find her bra.

She was ordered to dance and she did. This time she was abandoning sultry in favor of wanton. She kept her legs apart and her hips cocked to one side or another. This time she was cupping her own breasts, kneading them, pressing them into her chest to make them look even bigger.

She pulled her panties in between her butt cheeks and bent over lewdly. He grabbed her hips and pulled her onto his lap and this time she stayed there, letting her hard nipples and throbbing clit be played with. She wanted to cum. She was becoming such a slut, but why?

The fifth client saw how much liberty one could take with her now and went straight for her wet cunt. He snaked his hand around like he did earlier in the evening and slid a finger into her craving slit.

She should have stopped him, but she wanted to cum.

She got horny around men and couldn’t control herself. Didn’t she wear all that make up, miniskirts, sexy bra and panties, and do all this dancing to get them to make her cum? Obviously she did. No. That can’t be right. That’s not always how she was. She was a professional. An economics major.

Actually, she was cumming.

The sixth man pulled her quivering form off of #5 and over to his chair. Her panties were either vanished between her amazing cheeks or pushed aside. She saw that nearly everyone had dollar bills for her. He told her to dance. Dancing made her sluttier, but she had to. Even though she had just cum, she wanted to cum again!

She moved more slowly from doing 5 in a row and still shook when he touched her. Hands that went to her cunt were no longer stopped, and soon she fell to her knees as another pair of fingers brought her to a mind-weakening orgasm. Number seven didn’t have any kind of pants on.

She objected, but was told to dance. Her knees felt weak, but she swayed to the trance music. She loved it. Seven told her that since we worked so hard to get her off, she had to get us off.

Her mind normally found plenty of resistance to logic like that but it couldn’t muster up the power. The idea of resistance registered but not enough to stop her actions. Her dancing was shaky and unsure.

When she knelt down in his lap he pushed his dick between her breasts. She looked at the cock pumping up and down, up and down. This cock could make her cum. She loved to cum. She just came and couldn’t wait to do it again. She would wear see-through bras that showed off her big tits so men would get hard cocks and make her cum. She was lost in this thought when she came again.

The eighth man had set two fingers to work on her g-spot while she was titty fucking her client. Seven didn’t know this and told her she must really love to give titty fucks. The idea barreled through her defenses and rang true. Didn’t she just come with a dick in her tits?

She was still dancing for the cock between her tits—no, the client—when something slipped past her lower lips and filled her insides with forbidden pleasure. It felt wonderful but the shock of the stretching sensation as her pussy walls were so quickly shoved out of the way brought her back to reality. She was a lapdancer, one of the best. She was to entertain and entice but sex was forbidden.

With a soft whimper of protest she tried to stand back up but her unseen lover planted his left hand in a dominating smack on her soft ass and his right hand into the small of her back, pushing her back down towards the hard cock that made her cum from titty fucking it. She tried to straighten out again but even if she had leverage, the next thrust into her slick hole sent pleasure through her overheated body and sapped her strength.

“No.” It was a weak thought. The startling jolts of pleasure knocked more of her strength out of place and she could no longer hold herself over his lap. Her head collapsed onto his thigh as her silky hair cascaded around him, caressing his thighs and enhancing his arousal. Her chest was large enough to keep her neck raised so all she saw in her tilted vision was his cock, moving back and forth.

No. She was moving. No again, she was being moved by the music that filled her. No again, that was interrupted. She was having her weakened senses pounded out of her by a cock that could make her cum.

“You should suck his dick.”

The voice floated in as other things in her head were trying to clear the pleasure haze and start rebuilding. Her hands moved under her for support, but she only got as far as putting a hand on her client’s dick.

“You already sucked my dick tonight, what’s one more?”

She did? Why couldn’t she remember? The private dance—She weakly clutched her client as an orgasm overtook her. Pleasure washed over her making it harder to think. She watched that hard, twitching cock during her...not first orgasm tonight. Her mouth was right there.

“You’re such a slut and there are so many guys here, you just have to do two or three at once.”

He was right. How could she not be a slut? She was standing in her trademark show-off-that-ass pose and just letting a faceless stranger fuck it. That whole time her head was in some naked guy’s lap and she was getting ready to suck his dick. Right? She was a slut after all. What else would her head be doing there.

She wrapped her thick lips around his member and took him into her hot mouth. He waited until she came again.

“She’s got nothing to object with now. She is your toy to play with for the evening.”

The words walked into her mind unmolested and set themselves in her inner being. Hands were everywhere. When they got bored of her on her hands and knees taking it from both sides, they made her ride another man lying on the ground. Everyone had easy access to her mouth and her hands were free to give handjobs. They had fun figuring out that it took four grown man’s hands to cover her breasts without squeezing. The flag-pole built guy from before planted his mast between her chest pillows. She loved giving titty fucks.

The best part of the whole thing was that if she ever denied a request all they had to do was wait for her to come and they would try again. It turned out that since the first pussy fuck, she was 4 orgasms away from anal.

“All right boys, get her in the shower.”

Once they were all finished and they had left her enough money to make it plausible she’d performed an honest night’s work (with great tips), they cleaned her up and set her in the private room for re-conditioning. It was time to waltz right into her weakened mind and bring back Serene, the non-slutty, industry-leading lapdancer. The scrawny drinker asked his long-time friend why they couldn’t just keep her as a permanent fuckbunny. Since he had been listening to the trance music all night as well, it didn’t take much work to plant a memory.

“Your mother raised you to always put your toys away when you’re done playing with them.”