The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Lydia wasn’t sure if she was exactly seducing clients to the good, but she was certainly getting their attention. There was much fumbling of sample jars as various attractive young men tried to look and not look simultaneously. One guy had actually dropped his, and she’d come around to pick it up, bending from the waist. It was only when she handed it back to him that she realized what that must have looked like, with the dress pulled tight across her ass. She couldn’t help taking a glance herself and noticing a decided bulge.

He’d been a long time providing the sample. She imagined he was doing a bit more than just urinating. After he left, she went in there and did a bit more too before her next client came. She was revved up enough that it didn’t take her long, but she still had time to think quickly of that hard bulge, and Kit’s snug top, and Darren saying, “Lydia.” Especially that last one.

Darron himself showed up late in the afternoon. She didn’t think she’d called him back today, but he seemed to have an appointment. Kit sent him right in, anyway. He gave a friendly wolf whistle when he saw her, and she giggled, which she seemed to be doing a lot lately. He patted her lightly on the butt when she headed past him with his cup. She switched her hips a little involuntarily on the way back past him, hoping he’d do it again.

But he didn’t. Instead, he just watched her as she sat down. She felt heat rising to her face, and possibly other parts, as he looked her over. She stifled an impulse to pull out a tit so he could see it better. She needed to be professional, after all.

“That’s a great dress, Lydia,” he said slowly, “but….”

She felt her heart sink. He didn’t like the dress? All the other clients had liked the dress. Even that one girl, Shanice, had seemed impressed.

He noticed her mournful expression, and reached over to cup her under the chin.

“No, no,” he said. “It’s a lovely dress. I’m sure everyone was seduced. But…I think your clients would really like to see you in something a little…shorter. Above the knee? I’d really like to see your legs. Maybe a mini?”

She couldn’t wear a miniskirt to work. They had a dress code. She’d get fired.

“That sounds…fun,” she said.

He nodded. “And don’t be afraid to flirt, huh? Let people get a look at what you’ve got; let them know you’re there to help them in any way you can, okay? I know you’re working hard to bring these offenders back into the community, but they need to know it too, don’t you think?“

She thought about hard offenders entering the community, over and over, through different pathways. It made her feel a little dizzy.

“Yeah…” she said, somewhat anticlimactically. “I guess…I guess that makes sense.”

“Cool,” he said. “How about a hug, huh? To show there are no hard feelings about the dress? I do really like it.”

He stood up, and she told him for once and for all to get lost. Or she tried to. The hug sort of scrambled her brain, especially the part where he thrust up against her, so she could feel his hardness, down there. His hands slid to her ass, and pushed her crotch against him. She gasped, open mouthed, and his tongue slid along the edge of her lip. She kissed him hungrily, thrusting against him as he pinched one swollen nipple through her dress. She thought she was going to come just like that, dry humping him…and he stepped away.

“Wow,” he said. “That was awesome. We’ll do it again tomorrow, right? When you have the mini?”

No, no, no. “Sure,” she gasped.

“Great!” He smiled, apologetically adjusted his hard on, and walked out.

“What can I do for you Lydia?” Sarah asked. She barely looked up from her paperwork. As manager of the office, Sarah’s first priority always seemed to be to make sure everyone knew she was busy, and that everyone knew to leave her alone. She and Lydia got along for the most part because Lydia had made a policy of never bothering her.

And she hadn’t wanted to break that policy. But this was starting to look more and more like an emergency.

“I…uh…I wanted to ask you to transfer a client.”

Sarah stopped shuffling papers. She finally looked up.

“You want to transfer someone on your caseload? How come? You know everybody’s overworked, right? We’re all stretched thin?”

“Yeah…it’s not the workload. I can take somebody else in exchange. I’m just having some, uh, trouble.”

Sarah leaned back and looked at her. “What is it? If there’s a threat or someone’s giving you a problem, just fill out the paperwork and toss them back in. You don’t have to take any crap. You know that.”

“Yeah…it’s nothing like that exactly. It’s just…I don’t feel comfortable with this…I don’t think we’ve got a good relationship. Darren’s not doing anything wrong, he’s just too, uh, friendly….”

“Wait a minute,” Sarah said. “Darren?”

“Yeah,” Lydia said. She had a sinking feeling. “You know him?”

Sarah nodded. “Yeah, he came in here a couple of days ago; said he had something to straighten out with paperwork. I told him he needed to talk to you…not sure how he got past Carol, actually. But he seemed nice. We talked…about…” she trailed off.

“About?” Lydia prompted.

“Some…thing. He said he had a good relationship with you, anyway. Asked me not to transfer him. Said it was hard, but you were going to thrust him back into the community.” Sarah licked her lips.

“Oh,” Lydia said. There didn’t seem anything else to say.

“So that’s that,” Sarah said. “Oh, by the way,” she added, as Lydia stood, “I really like that skirt.”

“You…you like the skirt?” Lydia said. It wasn’t the sort of thing she would have expected Sarah to approve of. It was checked and flirty and way too short. Her top was a white button down shirt that might have been office-appropriate if it weren’t a size or two too small. Her breasts seemed about ready to tear through it.

“Oh, yeah,” Sarah said, standing up to smooth her own pencil skirt. “It looks hot on you. I bet Darren’ll really like it.” She came around the desk. She was wearing very high spike heel and an oddly predatory look.

“Th…thanks,” Lydia said. She headed for the door.

“Come talk anytime,” Sarah said. Lydia looked back. Sarah was behind the desk again. She wasn’t pushing papers though. Her hands weren’t visible.

Lydia knew something was very wrong. She shouldn’t be peeing to falsify evidence. Kit and Sarah shouldn’t approve of her sexed up wardrobe. She shouldn’t be wearing a sexed up wardrobe. And Sarah…she was indifferent and kind of awful, but still, why was she putting some low-level drug-dealers preferences above Lydia’s? If Lydia said there was a problem, that should be it, pretty much. And…had she been coming on to her?

Lydia needed to do something. Something drastic. But it was hard to think of what when she was so focused on how hard her clients were, or how hard it was for them, or something. As the days ticked by her increasingly outrageous outfits were having gratifying effects. Many, many of her clients seemed eager to reintegrate into society via the passageway she could offer.

One nicely muscled guy in for car-jacking, Jorge, who she’d been working with for months and never exchanged more than a monosyllable with, had finally looked at her tits tied off in a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader styled half shirt and asked her if she wanted to come in and help him with his sample. She’d giggled and cocked her short-shorts and barely managed to say no.

Instead she’d frigged herself shamelessly at her desk while he did his business. She was licking her fingers off when he came out. He met her eyes and smirked, like he knew exactly what she was doing. Another guy had asked for her cell number, and she’d given it to him, holding his hand for a moment as she passed the paper over. God knew what she would do if he called.

And, of course, every day Darren came by and they made out, with, on her part, increasing desperation. Sometime in there he’d told her to stop wearing underwear (it would make the urine samples easier, he’d said), and he’d toy with her mercilessly, running his fingers along her slick slit as he tongued her nipples through whatever whisp of nothing she was wearing. He never quite let her come though, and never came himself, no matter how she ground against him, or stroked him through his jeans.

Thinking about it was, impossibly, revving her up again. She’d frigged herself three times already today. She wanted nothing more than to head to the bathroom and reach up her ridiculously short black skirt, right up between her naked lips and…

She shook herself. This was no good. She needed to get out. She hadn’t seen Darren yet today; maybe if she got home and missed him for even one day, she could clear her head and get some sort of perspective. Determined, she took her purse, and headed out past Kit. Who was wearing a bright pink T-shirt that said, “Good pussy” in black letters.

The secretary looked up, and her face broke into a smile. “Nice outfit, Lydia!” she enthused. Then she noticed Lydia’s distress. “What is it, hon? Is something wrong?”

“I…I’m not feeling well, that’s all. I’m going to have to go home. Tell Sarah somebody’ll have to take the rest of my clients okay?”

Kit came out from behind the desk. She was wearing a leather skirt that seemed pasted on. Her midriff was bare. There was a Hello Kitty belly button ring piercing her navel.

“Are you sure you’ve got to go?” she said. “That sweet guy Darren told me to hold an appointment open for him today. Maybe you could just wait till he…”

But Lydia didn’t hear the rest; she bolted for the door…nearly knocking Darren over.

“Whoa!” he said, as she tried to brush past him. “Hey, we’ve got an appointment, right? Don’t run away.”

She kept going. Or that was the intention, anyway. Somehow it didn’t quite happen.

“She says she’s sick,” Kit said. Her voice was concerned…but there was something else in it too. Darren replied too low for Lydia to hear. When she turned around; he was whispering in Kit’s ear. Kit was listening intently, her eyes closed. Her hand was idly playing with her own nipple, her mouth slightly parted

Darren saw her watching them. He smiled apologetically, as was his wont. “Hey, sorry you’re not feeling well. I bet I can help with that,” he said.

That’s okay, she thought. I’d rather just go home, if you don’t mind.

“Oh,” she said. “I’d like help. That would be nice.”

He placed his hand on her ass, and casually rucked up the short skirt. She knew Kit could see her bare cheeks, her lack of underwear, and quite possibly her swollen, damp sex.

“Wow,” Kit said, low and with great sincerity. “That dress looks so hot on you, Lydia.”

Darren guided her into the office and shut the door. He smiled.

“So tell me what the problem is,” he said. His voice was solicitous, but the effect was undermined somewhat by the fact that he was unzipping. His penis was very hard. She licked her lips.

“Go ahead,” he said. “Tell me everything. Why are you upset?”

“You’re doing something to me,” she said. “And to Kit. To everyone. How are you doing this?”

She had to talk because he’d said to talk, but it didn’t seem very important in comparison with his penis. Even his voice came from a ways away. “How am I doing it? Honestly, I’m not really sure. I think it might have been bad weed? I smoked and then the next day I had a fever and then the next day…well. I’m very convincing now. Don’t you agree?”

She felt herself nodding.

“Kit thinks so too,” he said. “You like Kit right? You’re friends?”

“Well…colleagues.”

“No, no, you’re friends. Very good friends. You call her by her full name.”

“Katherine?”

“No. Kitten. Because you want to fuck her until she meows, hmm? Imagine her in a latex cat suit, hmmm? Crotchless, so you can see that cunt, her wet swollen lips. And her tits hanging out; the nipples pierced with Hello Kitty rings. I can have her come in here every day and lick up your cream. You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

She was breathing harder. “Yes…I mean…Kit…Kitten. How…I don’t like girls…”

“Oh, now you do. You like everything. You just like to fuck, basically. Dress like a whore and fuck and fuck. In every hole, all the time. Yes?”

No, no, no. “Yes.”

“So,” he said, “you’re not feeling scared anymore, right? I can make you do anything, but that’s okay. You like it. It’s fun and sexy.”

She tried to find her earlier panic. Her brain felt like it was swathed in cotton. It was nice. Fun and sexy.

“Yes,” she said.

“Cool,” he said. “So, why don’t you suck me off and then I’ll fuck you over the desk, okay?”

She wanted to say no, but he was awfully convincing.