The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It had been a regular day in the hair salon for Tawny. Another day, another step closer to her next paycheck.

Like she usually did, she was working the closing shift again. It was her favorite shift to work; a little less busy than peak hours in the morning. The closing shift always started slow, in mid-afternoon and only got slower, as it stretched on to late afternoon and then finally, closing time.

The other hairdressers didn’t like the shift much. There were usually so few customers during that time of day that the management of the salon only kept one hairdresser on shift. Tawny’s coworkers didn’t like that— said it felt too lonely.

But the solitude didn’t bother Tawny. She liked the shift precisely because it was so quiet. She probably liked it best out of all the salon’s employees. She suspected that was the reason management assigned it to her so often.

There were very few walk-ins at this time of day; hardly any at all. But that didn’t bother Tawny, because she always had a standing appointment with her regular, Philip. He was due to arrive any minute now, and he always tipped well enough to practically offset the slow business of the rest of her shift single-handedly.

She was almost looking forward to Philip’s arrival, now. He was always up for a friendly chat when she was working on his hair, unlike some of her other more tight-lipped clients. He was a pretty good conversationalist, too— Tawny often enjoyed chatting with him. And of course, he would tip her at the end as well as he always did.

Those two attributes together meant that Tawny never minded much when she stayed late for him. The salon technically closed at 5:00 pm, but Philip always came for his cut at 4:30 pm— and though she turned the Closed sign in place at 5:00 pm each time he had a cut, taking a break halfway through to do it— she always made sure to give him his full hour, and stay thirty minutes past. Then she would do all the closing tasks thirty minutes late, after Philip left.

It was a simple cut, and Philip always asked for the same thing, but she never rushed him. He only ever asked her to keep his hair cut to the same short length he liked, and then following that, to trim his beard for good measure. But with the lively conversation that often passed between them, even such a simple task easily spilled over into taking up the full hour she allotted for him.

The bell on the inside of the salon door rang— there he was now. But when she looked up to him from where she’d been standing behind the counter, and flipping through a magazine, she noticed immediately that Philip was not his chipper self.

Usually, when he came in, there was a lightness in his step, and a confident air about him. He was often smiling, or if not quite smiling, then he would break into one when Tawny met his eyes.

But this time, when Tawny looked at him and he looked back, he did not smile. He had tired eyes instead of bright ones— there was a slump in his shoulders, and his steps were ploddingly slow. There was a heaviness about him— it was clear that he was not happy at all.

“Good afternoon, Philip,” Tawny said, using a more gentle tone of voice than she might otherwise have done. “Why don’t you have a seat in the chair, and I’ll get started on your cut?”

She had modulated her tone to suit his mood— if he had come in as his normal self, she would have addressed him brightly, maybe a bit more loudly, to keep up with his usual high energy.

She’d dialed it back to be more low energy, like him. He seemed to appreciate it— she read the appreciation in his body language— but he said nothing to indicate this. He only nodded once, mutely, and then walked over to her hairdressing chair, and sat in it.

As Tawny took her comb up from off her station, she spoke again. “So what’s wrong, today? You seem down.”

“Oh, one of those days. You know,” Philip answered. “One of those days where everything seems to go wrong all at once. Work is a nightmare for me right now; I’m in a real ditch there, and no matter what I try to do to fix it, I only seem to dig the ditch deeper.”

Tawny began passing the comb through Philip’s hair, nodding sympathetically, but allowing him to go on. Sometimes the most important part of her job was not the cutting— sometimes it was to make her client feel heard, and she could tell that today, this was exactly what Philip needed from her, more than he needed his usual trim.

“That’s awful,” Tawny said, softly. “I’m sorry.”

“And then, today,” Philip went on, apparently not having heard her, “I found out that there was a death in my family. It just blindsided me. Work is bad enough, but to have a death on my family on top of that?” He exclaimed, as if he himself were shocked by the unfairness of it. “I’ve had bad days before, but really, this just seems excessive. Like the world just wants to kick the crap out of me for laughs. I mean, work trouble, and a death, both on the same day? It’s just plain cruel.”

“I really am sorry, Philip,” Tawny said. She meant it. She went on combing his hair gingerly, trying to think of something suitable to say.

“Well, just give me the usual cut for now,” Philip said. “It’s a start, at least.”

Tawny brushed his hair in silence for a few seconds, but she still felt the desire to say something more, to console him. She came up with nothing. There was nothing that she could say to make any of what he’d just described to her any better. She was sorry about that.

“I wish there was something more than that that I could do to help,” she settled on saying, at last. It was the only thing she could think of to say that was true. True, and not useless, the way empty sympathy would be.

Philip startled in the chair— had she surprised him with that comment? “Do you really mean that?” He asked, in the next second.

Tawny frowned in thought. “Of course I do,” she said. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.”

“That means a lot,” Philip said, giving a nod. “It just seems like today, and in my life more generally right now, nothing is going my way. Nothing is the way I want it to be, or moving in the direction I would prefer.”

“Well, I meant it,” Tawny repeated. “I wish there was anything I could do to make things go better for you— to make it so things were going your way. If there was something, I would do it.”

Now Philip had a thoughtful look in his eye, like he was getting an idea. “You really mean it,” he repeated, below his breath— just for himself.

All the same, she confirmed one last time. “I really do—” she said, and focused more intently on passing her comb through his hair.

As she went on with cutting his hair, Tawny found herself strangely focused. She always focused when she had a client in her chair, but this time it was like her eyes were glued to her comb as she passed it through, and her scissors when she cut down.

When she pulled back— neither combing nor trimming, in order to consider Philip as a whole and check her work — she saw him in a different light than before. She’d never noticed, but Philip did have a certain charm about him. Like a man who would be very satisfying to get to know, and very entertaining to spend time with.

Tawny shook her head to herself, going back to combing and trimming. She had a boyfriend already. The last thing she needed was to develop a crush on a standing client. It would only make things awkward, both today, and in their future standing appointments. And besides. What would her boyfriend say? An outside crush on another man was a betrayal of him.

But as Tawny kept cutting Philip’s hair, and combing sections of it aside, the feeling of attraction didn’t fade. Each time she combed part of his hair back, it highlighted the shape of his head and face in a slightly different way. And each of these highlights only made Philip seem more attractive.

By the time Tawny had finally finished with his cut up-top, and moved to his beard, she was feeling less guilty about her growing attraction to Philip. It was only a crush, after all. There was nothing wrong with that— crushes were okay. Crushes were normal. They happened every day, all the time, to everybody.

Her boyfriend would understand. He would be perfectly fine with her feeling this way. He probably got crushes on girls all the time, too.

As she was cutting Philip’s beard back, she found this revealed a new facet of Philip’s appearance, too, and she drank the sight of it in gratefully. With his beard trimmed that much shorter, if she were to cut right there— then, wow. He looked like a downright hunk.

It occurred to Tawny, then, that she and Philip had been talking through the entire cut, because suddenly, as she finished the very last of it, the talking stopped, and she realized its absence. If Philip had been talking, she must have been talking back, too, even if he had mostly held up the conversation himself. Only, she couldn’t remember a single thing that either one of them had said to each other.

She racked her mind for a second to see if she could get anything to come back to her, but gave it up after a few seconds. Instead, she lowered her comb and brush, and turned Philip’s chair back around to face the mirror above her counter.

“How does it look?” She asked him.

Philip looked back at his reflection with a look of concentration. “Perfect,” he concluded.

Tawny set her comb and scissors down on her counter, and stepped back from the chair.

“Then you’re all done,” Tawny said.

Philip spun the chair back around again, and Tawny was struck hard by her new attraction to him. Sitting in the chair just like that, with his new hairstyle, he looked even more appealing than he had before, when she was working on him. She found herself a bit breathless.

To cover, she spoke again. “I hope that made you feel better. Like I said, I really would do anything to improve your mood. I hope that cut did it for you, even in just a small way.”

Philip stood, and closed the distance between them. “So you said. The cut did make me feel better— a little better. But there’s something else that would make me feel much better. By a lot.”

Tawny shifted her weight forward onto her toes, inclining to hear. “What?” She asked eagerly. Whatever it was, she would do it. When he’d first told her about his day, she’d felt a little helpless. Wanting to help, but not knowing how. But if Philip knew exactly what would help him, and he told her about it, she could do it! And she really wanted to.

“If you stripped yourself down for me, and let me fuck you,” he answered, simply.

This seemed like a perfectly normal request to Tawny. She was attracted to him, after all. Why shouldn’t she fuck him, when he was so good looking? Apparently he was attracted to her too, if he wanted to fuck her. So why not, especially if it would make him feel better about his day.

It would make Tawny feel better too, as a bonus.

Her boyfriend would understand this, too, Tawny felt. He would understand that it was part of her job to be there emotionally for her clients. To make them feel better— fucking Philip would make him feel better. It would take care of his emotions. It would just be an extension of her job.

Her boyfriend would understand that. It was all perfectly normal.

“Sure,” Tawny said, and began to undress herself.

Philip stood watching, as Tawny proceeded with the task of quickly removing her clothes. She’d had a short black skirt on. That was first to come off. She let it fall to her feet, and then stepped out of it and left it on the floor.

Her top was next to follow— a plain dark blouse which she’d worn over a black undershirt. The blouse joined the skirt on the floor, and then the undershirt followed them both.

Tawny paused for a second to consider her boots. They would be more work to take off, while the rest of her clothes had been relatively easy to remove. And Philip had told her he needed this— that it would make him feel better. She didn’t want to keep him waiting a second longer than she had to. It would be a better idea just to leave the boots on so they could get started as soon as possible.

Tawny decided to leave the boots on, and moved past them to the task of pulling down her underwear, and stepping out of them. She was briefly grateful that she hadn’t bothered putting on leggings that morning.

Philip had stood to watch as she’d undressed herself for him. She hoped that she was already making him feel better, even though they hadn’t started fucking yet. She hoped that the sight of her undressing alone had been enough to boost his mood, for a start.

When she’d made herself naked except for her boots, Tawny looked back to Philip. “Where do you want me?” She asked.

“Why don’t you come over here, and lean just against the counter,” Philip suggested, and Tawny moved quickly to act on the suggestion.

She stepped past him, around her cutting chair, and rested herself against the counter with her hips thrust back to open herself up.

She heard quick rustling behind her, as Philip hurriedly removed his own clothes. Then she felt his hand brushing between her legs. She’d already been a little wet to begin with— he was quite attractive, as she’d realized today, and she’d gotten a little turned on just from taking in and appreciating his appearance.

But now that Philip was touching her, it was turning her on more. She gripped the edge of her counter, and shifted her hips further back onto his hand. He was touching her, and it felt so good. And it felt even better to think that the more he touched her, the more he was cheering himself up. The more he touched her, the better he felt, and the better she felt too. She was dripping and spilling out onto his hand in no time.

Philip drew his hand away, and Tawny closed her eyes in anticipation. He shifted closer to her, and she felt him between her folds. He dragged himself along her for a second, letting out a moan himself, and then plunged in.

It was Tawny’s turn to moan. Philip filled her in the most delicious way, with just a bit of a stretch. And with her hips thrust back from the counter, the angle was so much deeper. He could just slide straight in and hit the very depths of her.

“Open your eyes,” Philip encouraged. “Take a look at how good you look, bent over for me. The image alone makes me feel so much better.”

Tawny opened her eyes, and looked, as Philip had told her to do. She had to agree with him; she did look good, but she thought he looked better. His haircut and beard trim really did suit him, and she was struck by the same feeling from before— that Philip was a very attractive man. He was, and all she wanted to do was keep looking at his reflection, and taking in the sight of him.

“I don’t look as good as you do,” Tawny countered. “With your new haircut and trim.”

“We look good together,” Philip amended. “Just watch us move, now.”

Philip took up a consistent pace, then, sliding out and then driving back in to keep hitting her deep. With every new thrust, Tawny’s body shivered in response. She gripped the counter even more tightly, and watched their mirrored counterparts doing the same. They were both young and fit, and they did make a pleasant image together. There was something mesmerizing in the repeating motion of Philip entering and withdrawing from her— and something mesmerizing in the way her body shook in response when he did. She caught herself watching the reflection of her breasts shaking in time with Philip’s thrusts.

And her boots came up high enough on her legs that they were just visible from her vantage point. She couldn’t help but notice how good they looked up against her bare skin.

The images of Philip fucking her were captivating, but the feeling it was creating in her was starting to overtake them. There was pleasure inside her, and it was spreading through everything.

Philip was accelerating his pace, now. He felt so good inside her— it felt so good to have her walls clench down and flutter around him, and she was breathing raggedly with each renewed thrust, her whole body shaking through, now, to take his repeating penetration.

She could no longer see the reflections in front of her. The pleasure inside was blinding her.

He pumped more quickly into her, and then she felt him spill out inside, and that last sensation was enough to unleash her own orgasm. With a cry, she came too, and then Philip slid back out of her.

She sagged against the counter for a second, spent. Then, after taking a minute to collect herself, she pushed back from it, and stood back up to face him again.

When she turned around, he was already redressing himself.

“Thank you,” he said, as he rearranged his clothes. “That made me feel much better. The cut helped, but the sex really helped. Maybe from now on, when I come for my cut, sex can be the follow-up part of it. You do want to keep me feeling good, don’t you?” He asked, having set his clothes back properly into place.

“Oh yes,” Tawny said. She reached for her own clothes, and began re-dresssing. “Of course I do— I’d do anything. If I can go on cutting your hair to make you feel better— and then after that, pleasuring you with my body, I’d be glad. I just want you to feel good— I’d do anything.”

Philip nodded to himself, and reached into his pocket to retrieve his wallet. He pulled out a wad of cash, and separated some bills from it. “For the cut,” he said, placing them in her hand.

Then his hand came up behind her ear, tilting her head towards him, and he pressed his lips to hers. “For the sex,” he added, when he pulled back and dropped his hand.

Tawny was left breathless when he turned away to walk out of the shop. As she watched him go, she was already thinking ahead to his next cut. Afterwards, maybe, she could take a little more initiative next time… she could get down and suck him with her mouth, or— or—

And maybe, apart from Philip, she could care for her other clients in a similar way. Philip had done so much to point out how he appreciated the way she looked— maybe she could dress in a more revealing style, to give her other clients that same comfort that could come from the sight of her well-dressed body. And maybe she could take care of some of them emotionally in the way she’d taken care of Philip. Maybe she could fuck them, too, to make them feel better; and to make them feel valued.

But Philip would always be the priority, whatever she did or didn’t do with the rest of her clientele. He was the client she was most interested in. As far as she was concerned, he was her most attractive client. He was her favorite, and she would always make sure he knew that. She would— or she could—

There were so many ideas she barely had time for all of them. But this made her happy too. All of them would make Philip feel better; maybe even better than he himself could imagine. And she wanted to do that. There was nothing that she wanted more.