The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Joey waited, trembling. She knelt face-down on the bed, nightgown rucked under her breasts, eyes-closed, rear-end bare, slit—she gasped as she thought about her slit, so wet, so ready. She knew if she could touch it she could finally, finally cum.

She also knew, with a fuzzy, distant part of her brain, that was much less important than her cunt, that she needed to get up from the bed, get her purse, and go to the police. Or someone. Or she could just take charge of things herself. That’s what she always did. She was a take charge type of person, not a docile little bitch-cow slut who thought with her needy little submissive cunt.

Her hips bucked involuntarily as she thought of her cunt again, her hands twitched. But she’d been ordered not to move. She whimpered slightly—then gasped as a hand slapped her right buttock, hard.

“Good little girl,” the familiar/not familiar voice said. The hand hit her again. She grunted…not really in pain. Tears sprang into her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something stinging, take control of the situation, let that voice know that things were going right back to normal with no more begging cunt yearning to kneel serve. “Please…” she said.

There was a low chuckle. “I like it when you beg, baby. But what are you begging for?” The hand slipped down and around. Joanne had never felt so aware of her cunt in her life. Maybe if she came she could get her brain back and start thinking only with her cunt forever only what she’s told to think just one orgasm and no brain … The hand inched closer, closer…

“Oh, yes,” the voice said, low and hot. “I’m going to take care of you. You’re going to scream for me, hmmm…” Breath was hot on Joey’s ear. She tried to push back, to get her cunt against those fingers. She knew she shouldn’t, she was supposed to stay still. But she couldn’t help herself.

“Eager little bitch,” the voice said. “That’s okay. We’ll train you better.” The tongue licked slowly, oh so slowly around the edge of her ear. “Now,” the voice said. “If you want to convince me to let you cum, say ‘fuck’ like you mean it.”

“Fuck!” Joanne slammed both hands on the steering wheel hard enough that her right wrist twinged. “Fuck!” she said again, because it seemed like the thing to do, though her heart wasn’t quite in it this time. Barbara —Joanne still hadn’t got the hang of thinking of her as “Mom”— gave a little half-sob, half-gasp from the passenger seat.

Joanne turned on her like a particularly peeved rattlesnake…and then took a breath. Barbara looked about ready to keel over from fright already. This was only Joanne’s second day staying with Allen’s mother, but the older woman’s timidity and general vagueness was already just about driving her to distraction.

When God was ladling out gumption, Barbara hadn’t even gotten an ounce of gump. Her daughter-in-law’s forthright cantankerousness only made things worse—which was why Joanne had absolutely, positively, not wanted to be the one to come out here.

She wanted to be out here even less right now, if possible. But there was no help for it. “Stay in the car,” she said calmly. It was meant to be calmly. Really it sounded more like a growl. But it was the best she could do. She threw the door open and stomped out. Barbara quailed so thoroughly Joanne could feel it through the slammed door.

The parking lot was just about empty. It was late, but they’d driven out to the Wal-Mart to get some cleaning supplies. Joanne had pulled Barbara’s giant, brown, ugly car out of the space carefully—but somehow, with the whole parking lot to maneuver in, some idiot had barreled into them.

Some rich idiot, she corrected herself; Joanne didn’t know from cars, but the red, sporty thing with its headlight out and its bumper crunched up sure looked like it had cost a lot. The young guy standing nearby looking at the damage must have a daddy with a portfolio if he was driving around something like that. Just great. Spoiled rich kid.

He looked spoiled too. You wreck your daddy’s high-end sports car driving recklessly in a Wal-Mart parking lot, you’d think you’d be freaked out. But spoiled kid didn’t look freaked out. He looked at most mildly peeved—and when he saw her, he stopped looking peeved, and got a look she was familiar with.

She was trim, with strong cheekbones and firm breasts that stood out on her small frame. She was dressed in a sweater and slacks, nothing fancy. But, in her experience, guys didn’t need anything particularly fancy.

Her jaw clenched. If he asked her out, she was going to slug him.

The jaw-clenching had scared away older and wiser men, but this guy didn’t seem to notice. “Hey,” he said. “Sorry about that. Guess I didn’t see you pull out, huh?”

There was an odd note in his voice. Sort of an accent? She couldn’t quite place it. She found herself waiting half a second after he stopped talking in the hopes she’d pick it out more clearly.

She blinked. “I guess not,” she said. It didn’t come out quite as sharply as she’d intended. She tried again. “Look, I need to see your insurance information, please. ”

His smile got wider. “Oh,” he said. “I don’t have insurance. Not for this car, that’s for sure. I’m afraid your company’s just going to have to handle it. For your car, I mean.” He waved his hand at the sports car. “You don’t need to worry about this one. I’ll just get another.” He took a step towards her. “You don’t even need to mention me, okay? Just tell the insurance you backed into a wall. That’d help me out a lot.”

He’d stepped closer to her. She thought fleetingly about kneeing him in the groin. “Okay,” she said, “you can explain all that to the cops.”

Or that’s what she meant to say. Instead, she said, “Okay. Sure. Glad to help.”

What?

“Great!” he said. “I really appreciate that!” He looked a lot less surprised than he should. She, on the other hand, felt decidedly unsteady. She took a step back. He stepped forward with her, so the space between them was the same. Too close.

“As long as you’re feeling so very helpful,” he said, “would you mind giving me a ride? This cars kind of a mess, and I’m tired of it anyway.”

His voice was low and insistent. The overtone was more noticeable when he spoke low like that. She found herself leaning forward to hear, towards his lips. They were nice lips, not as full as Allen’s, but still rather inviting.

“Okay,” she said helpfully. Her own voice seemed to be coming from a ways away. “If you don’t mind sitting in the back. My mother-in-law is in the front with me. We were picking up cleaning supplies. She’s getting a smaller place. My husband’s out of the country and I’m…” she stopped abruptly. She was babbling. She didn’t babble.

Also apologizing. She didn’t do that much either.

He laughed. “Oh, that’s okay. I’ll drive. You can sit in the back with my parole officer. You’ll like her. She’s eager to please, like you.”

“Your…parole officer?” Joanne said. She was eager to please and didn’t want to be difficult, but there was something wrong with that.

“Mm-hm,” he said, almost humming the syllables. She found herself leaning towards him again to hear better. The movement of his lips was mesmerizing. She imagined them humming against her skin, down to her nipple…down lower. She wasn’t quite following what he was saying but she nodded and answered, eager to please.

“Great!” he said in response to something or other she said about insurance information or sexual orientation or nicknames maybe? Joanne..or wait, she preferred Joey because it was more agreeable and sounded more scrumptious, someone said.

She felt pretty scrumptious sitting in the back seat of her parked car in her garage next to Lydia, the parole officer, who she liked a lot. Darren, who was the man who had told her to feel scrumptious, had driven them home but they were having so much fun in the car they hadn’t gotten out immediately.

Lydia was wearing a ridiculous black latex cat suit; her large nipples were obviously hard and poked rigidly into the material. The bottoms were crotchless; her pierced, shaven sex was wet and ready. Joey’s fingers stroked the slit idly, up and down, up and down, mirroring Barbara’s rhythm up front as her head bobbed in the lap of the driver.

Joey’s head moved slowly back and forth between the two. It was just like Barbara to let some random guy run into their car and then…well, just let him do whatever he wanted. Barbara was always such a pushover. And she just never thought ahead at all.

What was Barbara going to do if…or when really…that guy made a mess on the seat, or her shockingly ugly peach top? She’d flap, probably. It would be up to Joey to clean it.

Of course, Lydia’s juices were already kind of making a stain in the back seat…Joey turned her head again. Yes, there was a growing spot. She should stop, before it spread. But Lydia had been really insistent that she stroke her till she came hard. Joey liked Lydia and wanted to please her.

“Oh, god,” Lydia said. Her cunt gave a delightful little spasm. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I like you so much. I like your fingers in me. I just dress like a whore and love to fuckkkk!” Her voice spiked and her cunt clenched as Joey shoved two fingers in, thrusting.

“Hey, now,” said the man upfront. “Slow down a little! Nobody gets to cum yet. We’re still getting to know each other.”

Joey slowed her rhythm. Lydia’s muscles unlocked from around her fingers. A noise came from Barbara.

“I want to make her, though,” Joey said, distantly. “I like her. She needs to. She needs to call the police. Stop doing that to Barbara or there’ll be a mess. What are you doing to us?”

Darren petted Barbara’s head as it bobbed and laughed. “I’m just helping you to get to know each other better,” he said. “You want to get to know each other, right, you and your mother-in-law? You’re glad to see a new side of her.”

It was true; Joey was surprised her mother-in-law was capable of such a sustained erotic endeavor. Barbara had been divorced for some years and hadn’t been dating as far as Joey knew. If she’d had to guess she wouldn’t have thought that Barbara had ever given a blow job at all.

To be honest she’d mostly tried to avoid thinking about Barbara and sex. But it was surprisingly interesting to see this new side of her. Barbara’s hand, she saw as she looked closer, was skillfully manipulating Darren’s ball sack; she’d stopped deep-throating him for a moment and was running her tongue up and down the shaft.

“And you, Barbara, I bet you didn’t know that the best way to calm bitch Joey down and make her into scrumptious, agreeable fucktoy Joey is just to tell her to suck every bit of cunt off her own fingers. It makes her feel really mellow and calm and you can do anything with her then, can’t you Joey?

Okay, that was enough. Joey took in a breath to finally, finally tell this asshole to get out of the car and out of the garage and out of her life and to stop face-fucking her mother-in-law.

Instead she put her fingers in her mouth. Right away she felt really mellow and calm. She really liked the way Lydia tasted too. She licked up her middle finger to get all of it.

When she glanced up she saw Barbara looking at her blankly, her hand still jerking Darren’s penis with a gentle but insistent assiduousness that, again, really did not jibe with Joey’s vision of her klutzy, undisciplined mother-in-law.

The light in the garage wasn’t great, but Joey could still make out Barbara’s pale blue eyes, and those cheekbones, which were pretty remarkable even if she had put on some pounds since her younger years. She was really good looking, Joey realized, shifting in response to a tinge in her crotch. No wonder Darren wanted to face fuck her.

Then Lydia was pulling her head down and Barbara turned back to her own task. A few minutes later, Darren came. Barbara swallowed most of it, which was nice since there was less mess, and also Joey enjoyed seeing that new side of her. Or hearing it, since she couldn’t see much except Lydia’s lovely dark folds , which she liked. Then he let them all cum too. Lydia made a noise which Joey liked.