The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Angela sighed deeply, glancing over at her latest insufficient lover. She didn’t even know this one’s name, just a random guy off the street, a nameless dick to fuck her relentlessly aroused pussy into never-ending orgasms. He was the third man in as many days, and like the other two he was sadly unable to keep up with her libido. Moving a bare foot against the sleeping man’s face, she shoved, pushing him onto the floor in a surprised jumble. “Wake up, dammit!” she said testily. “Get up, get dressed, and get out. If you can’t last more than three fucking hours without a rest then I don’t need you. Better yet, forget getting up and getting dressed just get the fuck out!” Grumbling, the man grabbed his clothes, and giving her the finger, exited the hacienda.

Angela pondered her strange behavior for a moment. Since her last two sessions, she had noticed a very different change in herself. During the conference call with the California branch about the lawsuit, she had a sudden change of heart, and decided to give the people suing her five million dollars, instead of the fifty thousand they had grudgingly agreed to settle for. When her Board of Directors questioned her, she calmly and coolly told them to mind their own fucking business or look for other jobs. The week afterwards, she had the impulse to call up each member of the Board and give them all heartfelt apology for her rude behavior. She increased the wages for all her employees, in all her companies, and gave them a hefty benefits package funded largely from her own personal money. Yet, as strange as it was, as noticeably different as she was acting, even to herself, she was unable to fight the impulses. Her sex drive and stamina seemed supercharged, and it took more and more to satisfy her every week. Her lithe shapely body, once so delicate, had grown hard and muscular, well toned, from nothing but the sexual exercise she was getting. She knew something was going on, but for the life of her she couldn’t figure out what.

Glancing at the clock, she saw with dread and delight that it was nearly eleven o’ clock. As much as she looked forward to the weekly sessions with Charley, inside she dreaded and feared it as well. Everytime she awoke to his cheerful voice she was changed somehow. Yet she couldn’t see a connection, her mind REFUSED to accept any connection between the two.

At nearly five till, the phone rang. Picking up the receiver, Angela answered. “Dr. Angela Barton here. How can I help you today, please?” Her own words grated on her nerves, as before the last month she had NEVER used the word please in her working vocabulary.

“Hello, Ms. Barton?” Her heart skipped a beat. It was Charley. “Ms. Barton, I’m afraid that I have run into a bit of a delay here with my last appointment, and I’ll be running a bit late today. I just wanted to let you know, and ask if you mind my coming perhaps an hour from now?” Angela’s spine tingled, like icy fingers dancing up and down its length.

“Um, okay. That will be just fine. And thank you for calling to let me know, it was very considerate of you, Charley.” At that moment the phone beeped, signaling another incoming call.

“Great, I’ll see you then, Ms. Barton.” Click. Hands shaking slightly, Angela pushed the button and the next caller came through.

“Hello, Doctor Barton,” Samuel Taylor piped in. “I have news for you about the burglary last month—”

“Save it, Mr. Taylor,” she said yawning. “I’m not interested in another progress report. I’m just not in the mood today. Perhaps we can talk about it next week.”

“No, Doctor, you don’t understand,” he continued. “This isn’t a sit-rep. I have actual news for you. I’ve been able to track down and positively ID the one responsible. I have the files with me, and I’m on my way there now. I can be there in ten minutes.” The news perked Angela up instantly, and for the first time in weeks she felt some of her old anger and spunk returning. More than anything she had wanted to know who had stolen from her, and dared to destroy her factory. New attitude or not, Angela did not deal well with having her will defied.

“Be here in five, Mr. Taylor,” she said with a renewed air of confidence and control. “I want to know the bastard that thought he could steal from me and hide!”

Taylor arrived in four minutes, fifty-eight seconds. Having timed him, Angela smiled. Yes, she definitely felt the OLD Angela coming to life within her once more. “Right on time,” she said to him as he entered the room. “Hand me the file, and talk as I read.”

“Alright, and a pleasant good morning to you too,” he said mumbling softly. As she turned to glare at him, he quickly started his report. “Ahem, well as you will see, the perpetrator cleaned up his trail pretty good. He didn’t try and sell the stolen supplies, not to a competitor, or on the black market. There was little left in the explosion to link back to him, and combing the site got us absolutely nowhere.” He smiled up at his boss. “Of course you know all this, as its the same thing the cops stated, in so many words. But I decided to pay a visit to all the neighborhood residents, knowing that somebody, somewhere, had to have seen something. And I found that somebody. He remembered seeing a chrome red BMW speeding away from the sight just before the big explosion. I cross-checked all the security tapes of the area that night and found the license plates...and the owner of the car. Here, though, the trail got cold, and the man that owned the car turned out to be a phantom, a nobody. A man without a past. But slowly and surely I followed the John Doe, step by step, until I had something definite—”

“Enough patting yourself on the back,” she said cutting him off. “I don’t care about the explanation, or your methods. Just give me the bottom line. Who is he?”

Taylor shook his head. Some people had no sense of drama. The bitch paid well enough, but she had a seriously short fuse. “Alright. There is a photograph in the last packet, in a manila envelope.” He waited until she opened the package, and saw with satisfaction the look of utter shock and denial on her face. “I take it you recognize him. Good. Allow me to introduce your burglar, Dr. Barton. Mr. Charles Pike, professional masseuse, and part-time saboteur.”

Suddenly, before Angela could react to the sudden shocking news, the door opened, and the man himself entered, grinning. “Ah, did someone just call me?” he said, holding a small black remote control in his hand. Cursing, Taylor reached for his gun, but Charley moved quicker, pointing the remote and pressing a button, causing Taylor to freeze, instantly, shuddering slightly as his eyes rolled back into his head. A dazed expression lit his face as he smiled and sank back into the chair, staring idly into space. Walking forward, Charley took the photograph from the shocked stunned woman, admiring it for a moment. “Hmmm. Not a bad likeness. I might wish to keep this, as I have so few really good pictures of myself.”