The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Part 1: Charlie

“Pink Tail. Charlie speaking.”

“Hello, dear. I like the name ‘Charlie’ for a girl; it’s cute. This is Vanessa. I’d like to speak to Diamond, please. I believe she’s a dancer there.”

“Diamond? Yeah, she’s not here right now. Nobody’s really here; kind of early in the day. You can leave a message for her with me if you want though.”

“Well, I’m afraid I’m rather impatient. Could you give me her personal number?”

“Hah. No, we don’t give the personal number of dancers out. Sorry, lady. Try calling back…”

“No, no. Don’t hang up, Charlie. Not till I tell you that you can.”

“What? Why can’t I…?”

“Now, don’t panic. There’s nothing to be afraid of. You’re just talking to your friend Vanessa until she tells you that you can hang up. Nothing scary about that, right? Say, ‘Yes, Vanessa,’ and mean it, okay?”

“Yes, Vanessa. Nothing scary. But…”

“Shhh. Just answer my questions. All my questions. It feels nice, answering my questions. You get a nice dopamine rush and your cunny feels all tingly, when you answer my questions. Right?”

“Yes..oh. Yes. That’s…”

“Great. What’s Diamond’s real name?”

“Moira. Moira Sanders. Oh. Oh, that feels…but we’re not supposed to…you can’t…”

“Now, don’t worry, Charlie. You trust me completely. That’s why you’re going to give me Moira’s number when we’re done here. First, though, I’d like to know a little more about you. Are you a dancer there? Are you shaking your Pink Tail at the Pink Tail?”

“No; I’m the bartender. I don’t strip and am not going to strip.”

“You sound very decided, Charlie. Why don’t you want to get up there and bare all with the other ladies? They make pretty good money, right?”

“Sure. I’m just not interested. I don’t want to take off my clothes for a bunch of loser guys. No thanks.”

“Are you embarrassed of the way you look? Why don’t you describe yourself? What do you look like? What are you wearing? Be a little sexy; it’ll be fun and feel nice and hot to flirt with your good friend Vanessa.”

“Uh…oh. Okay. Mm. I’m short; about 5′1. I’m thin, small, firm breasts. I keep my hair short. I’m wearing jeans and a t-shirt. I like to keep the sleeves rolled up so the girls can see how I work out, you know? I know you do.”

“I think I do, Charlie. Have you ever fucked any of the girls there? Ever take Moira home and fisted her till she came like a little whore for you?”

“Not Moira, no. She’s…she’s pretty straight. But I’ve…a couple of the girls, I guess, over the last year.”

“Uh-huh. Do you watch them dance? Do you think about how they’re showing off their titties and spreading their legs on stage for you? Do you rub yourself watching them? Did you ever come? Don’t forget how much fun answering my questions is, okay?”

“I don’t masturbate at work! Oh. But…I mean, sure, I look over at the dancers sometimes. Some of them are hot. When Cheryl was here and we were dating she’d maybe look at me…uh. God. It’s fun answering your questions, but how are you doing this? I’m all…”

“Yes, I’ve gotten you all slick and hot, haven’t I, baby? Your thoughts are all slick and hot for me. Say, ‘My thoughts are all slick and hot for you, Vanessa,” and have a little event in your clit when you say it, okay? Not too long, but very nice.”

“My thoughts are all slick and hot for you, Vanessa. Ooooh! Jesus. I need to…can I…I need to go to …”

“I’m sure you need to take care of yourself, Charlie. Maybe a couple times, huh? Maybe three or four? Your hot little clit must just be throbbing. I’m sure it’s hard to think about much else. But you know I’m the only one who can give you the relief you need, so listen carefully, even if all you want to do is frig yourself silly. Okay?”

“Yes. Yes! Oh, god.”

“Did you just come for me? You’re a naughty little chit, huh? No more of that, though. Answering my questions and listening to me with your open, slick, hot mind feels very good, but not quite good enough to cum unless I say so. Tell me you understand, baby.”

“I understand. Please…”

“Shh, now. Now, you said before that you didn’t like to dance. You like to watch the dancers sometime with their tits. Their hard nipples. Thongs against their slick cracks. You watch and get wet and maybe, maybe touch yourself. But you don’t want to be up there yourself. You’re too butch, is that right? You don’t like being up there all femme in the bikinis and the spangles and the slutwear? You don’t want men staring at you?”

“Yes, that’s…that’s right. It’s embarrassing and gross. Don’t want it.”

“So, I know that’s what you think. You think that you think that dancing is gross. But with your brain all slick and your clit so needy, it’s hard to tell what you really want. Isn’t it?”

“It’s…I..not sure? Don’t know…”

“It’s okay. I’ll explain it to you now. You’d like that wouldn’t you? You want me to slide my fingers through your brain, like I’m sliding my words over your hot, hard little nub. Say you want my tongue in your cunt brain now.”

“Need tongue cunt brain Vanessa. I…help?”

“There you go. Now. I know you thought you got this job just for the money. And you thought you wanted to be a bartender and not a dancer. And you’ve watched the dancers like sweet Cheryl and you thought that you were turned on by their hot, short minis, the shirts coming off, the legs spread. That’s what you thought, right?”

“Yes. I thought…I mean, I watch them because they’re sexy. I thought?”

“Mm. But really that’s all wrong. Tell me everything you think is wrong, Charlie.”

“Everything I think is…wrong?”

“It’s wrong. Listen closely now. The truth is that under that reserved, butch exterior, you’ve always been a secret exhibitionist. You’ve never been willing to admit it to yourself, but it’s true. You wear boring clothes and keep yourself to yourself because you know, deep down, that if you paraded around for women—if you paraded around for men—it would feel so good you wouldn’t be able to stop. You’d just want to shake your tits and ass all the time. You’d want to feel those eyes on you like skillful tongues licking your clit, like my words fucking your little slutty, whore brain.

“Letting people see your tits, your ass, your wet cunt is such a turn on. You want to wear short, micro-minis that bare everything. You want to go braless. You want to make cocks hard. You want to feel eyes on you as you’re fucked mercilessly. You want to be a piece of meat on stage. You’ve never been able to admit it, but you can’t escape it anymore. You took this job because you’re obsessed with being on display, with teasing and more than teasing. It makes you so hot. Tell me I’m right.”

“I…I want to wear flirty hot and dance on slick hot brain hard display? I’m…not. Can’t…this. What are…?”

“Oh, did I break you, honey? That’s cute.”

“Don’t…I’m gay. I don’t…not fucking hard cock with mini wet.”

“I see. Well, I think the problem is that you’re trying to label yourself, Charlie. You know that sexuality is complicated, right? People don’t fit in boxes. You can’t put yourself in a box. Not when you’re so wet you’ll just leak out of it. Tell me you don’t fit in any boxes, you little attention-seeking slut.”

“I am an attention seeking slut and I don’t fit in any boxes.”

“That’s right. Men, women, other genders; it doesn’t matter what kind of genitals anyone has. As long as they’re staring at you and thinking about your hot slit and your cute little tits and planning how they can fuck all your holes, you’re happy and horny. You just love being a shameless whore and turning people on. Do you understand? Explain it to me in your own words now.”

“I…I thought I didn’t want to be a dancer. But that was because I’m such an exhibitionist I worried that if I started to dance I’d be turned on all the time and fuck everyone shamelessly. But now I realize I want to fuck everyone shamelessly. Need to…uh…”

“Great! That sounds like you’re just about ready. Now, when you get off the phone, you won’t remember talking to me. You won’t remember that I called or who I am. But you’ll still have this revelation about yourself. It will feel like it came to you all of a sudden. You were staring at the stage, thinking about being up there in high heels and nothing else, spreading your legs wide, spreading your lips, as all the patrons looked at you—men, women, everyone just imagining plunging into your hot, wet folds. And you realized that that’s what you want more than anything. To dance and make cocks hard and cunts wet. And then fuck them.”

“Fuck. Oh, fuck, so hot…”

“Right you are. So, how can you get up on stage, Charlie? What do you need to do to start your new life of horny exhibitionism and desperate rutting?”

“Uh…I guess I could ask Ken? He’s the manager. They…I don’t know that he really wants me dancing, though. They have trouble getting bartenders and it’s not that hard to find dancers.”

“Well, you’re just going to have to be persuasive, then. You probably need a wardrobe change first of all. Go out and tart yourself up the way you love. Short leather red mini, maybe? A tied off half shirt. Slutty make-up. High heels.”

“I…I’m supposed to mind the bar. I can’t…”

“You’re quitting the bar, remember? Get dressed up for Ken. That’ll get you really turned on, just to start, knowing everyone’s looking at you. Then tell Ken how much you want to dance. Tell him you’ll do anything for a chance. You could even strip off for him, in the office, to show him how eager you are. Just fantasizing about it now must have you on the verge of a screaming orgasm, doesn’t it baby?”

“Uh. I…so hot. How is it so hot? Don’t want to fuck Ken…don’t want to lose job. Don’t want to be shameless little whore. Ugh.”

“Now, now. You know it’s not what you want. It’s what you need. Tell Ken that. Tell him you need to get your hot cunt on stage and make cocks hard. Use those words. Then see if you can get his cock hard. Suck him off. Let him fuck your sopping cunt from behind. Whatever it takes. You’ll debase yourself. You’ll love it. Knowing he’s watching you spread your cunt lips for him is going to make you cum hard even before he shoves himself in you. It’ll be the best sex of your life. Until you go on stage, of course.”

“On stage.”

“Yes, that’s right. I can hear you panting and I know you’re touching yourself. I’m sure that makes it much better for you, to know I know. Now, two more things. First, what do you think your stage name should be? What’s a good name that’ll let everyone know you’re a stage whore you’ll spread for anyone?”

“I…can’t…my stage name should be Stage Whore?”

“Hah! Yes, that’s cute and very literal, you mind-fucked little tart. But I think a better name would be Charlie.”

“Charlie? But that’s not my stage name. It’s just my name.”

“Exactly. You love being on display; you love being an exhibitionist. So you’ll love it when people know who you really are. You’ll tell everyone your full name. You’ll tell everyone where you work and what you do. You’ll tell neighbors, family, friends—you want them all to see you. It’s humiliating and hot. And if Ken objects, just tell him you’ll fuck him anytime anywhere. Tell him how hot it gets you, knowing that everyone knows exactly who and what you are, and can see who and what you are. Now, tell me who and what you are.”

“I’m Charlie. I’m a stripper exhibitionist slut. Uh. Telling you that is so hot.”

“Yes, I’m sure it is. Just telling people your name when they know you’re a stripper is going to be quite the experience for you. We can practice now, shall we? Is there anyone in the club now?

“Not really…I think…I think I saw one of the girls come in a little bit ago.”

“Perfect. So tell me your name and then come really hard. Both loud enough that anyone there can hear you.”

“I’m Charlie! AHHHH! Oh. Oh. Oh. Ugh.”

“That sounded like fun. Now, find me Diamond’s number. And then you’re going to hang up the phone and start your new life. Thank me for fucking your little cunt brain for you, Charlie.”

“Thank you, Vanessa.”

End Part 1