The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Melanie glanced at her appearance in the window of a parked car one last time. Her long, straight blond hair hung in a braid down to her back and her deep green eyes stared back at her quizzically as she looked at her outfit. Not for the first time that day she cursed herself for running late. She’d have preferred to have had a chance to pick her outfit more carefully. As it was she was now forced to show up at her new job wearing a T-shirt that had, without her realizing it, shrunk down in the wash. As she looked at her reflection in the glass she self-consciously pulled at the shirt, trying to stretch it out a bit over her breasts, wishing again and again that her D cupped breasts would stop pushing against the fabric so firmly that she could see the lace outline of her bra underneath.

“Oh well,” she thought, finally stepping away. “Nothing to do about it now. Hopefully she won’t notice.”

“She” was Melanie’s new boss, or at least the woman Melanie hoped to be employed by. A sophmore in college, Melanie found herself needing to make ends meet more often than she liked. In helpless desperation she looked through the listings at the student job center and pounced upon the only available opening for someone of her skills—that of a maid for a woman named Liz who lived just on the outskirts of town.

“I don’t know about that one,” the head of the center had said. “She’s a bit... odd.” He’d laughed, at that point. “But if you feel you can handle it, it’s all yours. Just show up early Tuesday morning and let her see what you can do.”

Remembering the strange warning and fighting down an attack of first-day jitters, Melanie made her way to the house, a fine-looking old building which reminded Melanie of her grandmother’s home just a little bit. Focusing on that she took a deep breath and, with one last tug on her shirt, walked to the front door.

Finding the door open, she frowned, thought, and decided to knock and call inside. “Hello?”

“Melanie?” a deep female voice replied, sounding somewhat distant.

“Yes?”

“I’m upstairs. Come on in, make yourself comfortable. I’ll be down in a minute. Can you get the door on your way in?”

“Ok, sure,” Melanie called back. She walked inside, closing and locking the door behind her. The hallway she had entered was dark. Darker than outside, at least, and she found herself blinking and closing her eyes to try to adjust to her sudden blindness.

It was a comfortable home, as far as she could see. The hallway—as much as she could see of it—was a bit old-fashioned but still attractive. Again Melanie couldn’t help but thinking of her grandmother’s house, and the trips she would take to it as a little girl, loving how great it would be to walk inside and smell the scent of her grandmother’s cooking.

The house didn’t smell like that, though. It did have a perfume of sorts to it but, breathing in a few experimental breaths of it, Melanie couldn’t recognize any of the spices her grandmother liked cooking with. The scent of Liz’s house was different. Melanie tried a few more breaths, slower this time, trying to drink the scent in. It was familiar, she thought. Sweet. Very pleasant. Melanie closed her eyes and continued breathing in, letting the scent fill her nose as she tried to imagine what her own room might be like, if it smelled like this. She wondered what sort of air fresheners Liz preferred.

“There’s some food in the kitchen if you want,” Liz called down. “At the end of the hall to your left. Please, try some and let me know what you think. It’s a new recipe.”

“Alright,” Melanie replied, pushing away from the wall she suddenly found herself leaning against and making her way down the hallway, enjoying the sensation of running her fingertips along the textured wallpaper along the way. She smiled as she walked, noticing that the scent grew stronger as she came closer to the kitchen and she realized that the comfortable, familiar feel of it was helping her to relax.

The kitchen was a small room, smaller than she would have expected in a house of this size, and contained not much more than the bare basics—stove, refrigerator, sink and oven. In the middle of the room was a breakfast table with a plate of food on it. Melanie laughed when she saw what it was.

“Gingerbread! My favorite!” She raised her voice so Liz could hear her upstairs, laughing at her own boldness for being so familiar with a potential employer. She laughed again when she realized that this was way the scent was so familiar. “I haven’t had gingerbread in ages,” she said, to no one in particular.

The gingerbread was fresh and warm to the touch. So fresh that the kitchen itself was still warm and humid from the baking—and was positively filled with nothing but that sweet, sweet smell. Melanie took a piece of it from the plate and leaned against the sink, holding it under her nose for a moment just to enjoy the pure scent of it. She sighed happily, breathing in again and again just to get the wave of sensation the hot cookie caused.

She liked it. She breathed in deeper, taking in long, sighing breaths, letting the scent fill her nose and her lungs. She giggled, imagining that the smell of the bread was filling her brain as well, leaving nothing but the sweet, foggy scent behind.

She stayed that way for several moments, just breathing, just enjoying the scent hovering below her nose. Enjoying it so much that she almost forgot to eat. When a part of her mind reminded her that gingerbread was for eating, she nearly balked. The scent was so wonderful she didn’t want it to go away. But she had promised Liz to try it so she finally took a nibble.

A long, slow sigh of pleasure escaped her. It tasted wonderful. Positively heavenly. Melanie quickly munched down the rest of the cookie, wanting now to fill her body with the sensation the food had caused. She felt a soft tingling along her skin, reaching all the way down to her fingers and toes and back again. She stood there, her head falling back a bit, letting herself simply feel the sensations that traveled along her body.

The air by the sink was cool and metallic. As Melanie’s head fell back she found herself breathing in the fresh, clean scent of the water and she blinked, suddenly, wondering why she was standing by herself in the kitchen like this and realizing for the first time that Liz was taking quite a while to come downstairs.

“Liz?” she called, pushing herself away from the sink and walking past the gingerbread—which still smelled so good—to stand by the door. “Liz?” she tried again, but softer this time.

“Just a moment, Melanie,” came the reply. “Just sit down in the kitchen and have something to eat. Have you had breakfast yet? You must be starved.”

This was true. She’d been running so late that morning that she hadn’t had a chance to eat. And if Liz wanted her to wait, she thought, moving back to the table, she would wait.

She took a seat at the table, pulling the plate of gingerbread closer. It was a pretty pattern on the plate, she thought. Blue and white swirled together, making an odd sort of makeshift maze in the porcelin. She took another cookie, nibbling it slowly, concentrating on the pattern, wondering if it went anywhere or formed a shape of some kind. She let her eyes follow it, nibbling all the while, breathing in the thick, sweet scent again and smiled.

The second cookie tasted as wonderful as the first. And the scent of the full plate underneath her was so strong Melanie thought she might swoon from it. But she couldn’t stop breathing it. She liked taking in the long, slow, deep breaths through her nose, sighing as she let them out and brought her lips over to her hand to take another bite of the cookie. With her eyes she kept following the pattern, nibbling on more of the cookies to see if she could reveal it and finding, with a smile, that it was just so hard. The lines kept swirling and swirling and just when she thought she had a grip on it her eyes would trip and she’d have to start over.

With the second cookie finished she moved on to her third, shaking her head a little to see if that helped her follow the twisting, swirling pattern any better.

With her fourth cookie she rested her head against her hand, continuing to nibble but sometimes forgetting where she was as she followed the pattern. She giggled a little as she started her tenth—or was it eleventh?— try.

With the fifth cookie her eyes began to glass over as she looked at the plate. The plate, the cookies, the kitchen—it was all one wonderful fog. A great fog. She breathed it in, forgetting to eat as her hand rested limply on the table, the half-eaten cookie still in it. She just keept breathing. And breathing. And taking long, slow breaths of that sweet, funny fog.

The fog was very funny, she thought with a giggle. As she took another breath she felt it wasn’t just fun but nice. Really nice. Every breath she took made her feel... she breathed in again... good. Warm. Warm all on her skin and beneath her clothes and... she found herself moving in her chair, her head still rested in one hand but her hips moving slightly, slowly, dreamily against the chair.

“Mmm,” she sighed, resting her head on the table. The plate was right in front of her, a blur of blue and white and she let her hand touch the cookies on it, her fingers breaking up the soft gingerbread, releasing more of the scent as she did. She giggled again and just thought about breathing in the fog.

“Like it?” a voice asked. “It’s my own special recipe.”

Melanie sat up, blinking. Her vision still blurred but as she blinked she could see a woman standing beside her. Auburn hair, deep brown eyes, pale skin and a blue silk dress that revealed soft, full cleavage.

“Um, yeah,” Melanie said, trying to reach a hand up to rub her eyes and part of her mind working frantically to make her remember why she was here.

“I’m Liz,” the woman said, smiling. “I’m glad to meet you, Melanie. I think I’ll enjoy you.”

Thanks Melanie’s mind told her to say. But all her lips could manage was “Um.”

“Did they taste good?” Liz asked, picking up a cookie and holding it in front of Melanie’s slightly open mouth. “Do you want more?”

Melanie tried to answer but found herself leaning forward instead, her body moving of its own accord to make her take another bite.

“You like it, don’t you?” Liz asked, sitting beside her, never moving the cookie away from Melanie’s lips.

“Yes,” Melanie breathed, licking crumbs from the underside of the gingerbread.

“Eat all you want, Melanie,” Liz said. “In fact, I want you to. I want you to feel very, very good.”

“Good,” Melanie replied, her voice no more than a sigh now as she nibbled dreamily. When that cookie was gone Liz produced another. “Good,” she repeated.

Liz laughed, a sound that felt like bubbles floating through Melanie’s mind. “Yes, lovely girl. Very good.”

Melanie wanted to reply to that but whatever words she was about to say were captured by a gasp that escaped her lips. A feeling of sudden, sharp pleasure had slid through the fog. Dizzy, unable to keep her eyes open, Melanie breathed a little faster, trying to find the source.

“Liked that too, did you?” the bubbly voice asked. “I thought you might.”

Melanie gasped as she felt it again. And again. And again. With a shake of her head she realized what it was. Liz’s fingers were touching her breasts. Pinching them. Locating the nipples even through the layers of fabric from her clothes. “I...” her voice trailed off as the thought of what she was about to say escaped her.

“What, Melanie?” Liz asked. “What do you want?”

“I...” Melanie sank in her chair, forgetting her words entirely. She tried to remember them, but it was so hard. She took a deep breath to clear her mind but it was still so hard to think, and her eyes wouldn’t open, and she couldn’t remember why the hot, quick, piercing stabs of pleasure were supposed to be something she didn’t like.

“That’s it, Melanie,” the bubbly voice said—although now it felt softer, like silk or feathers brushing against her skin. “Relax. Just enjoy.”

“Hmmm...” Melanie licked her lips, tasting crumbs and feeling odd sensations flash through her, as though her lips were meant to move, somehow. Form... something. Do... something.

“Perfect,” the voice said. “Just perfect. That’s all. Just relax. Relax and enjoy. You feel good, and open, and warm. That’s all you are. Warm, and hot, and everything about you feels just so good.”

“Yes,” she sighed. “Please.”

“That’s it. That’s a good girl. Just be warm and open for me. That’s what you want to be. That’s all you can think of.”

Melanie moaned. The sensations in her breasts had stopped to be replaced by something better—much better—between her legs. Melanie’s hips moved again, trying to find the sensation of something strong and firm touching her. “Oh!” she gasped.

“Good. Just relax. Sink deeper and deeper into that warm feeling. Let it wash over you. Sink down deeper and feel only pleasure. That’s all you want.”

Pleasure. Pleasure felt wonderful, Melanie thought, the sensations floating dreamily through her mind. She wanted pleasure. Pleasure like the feel between her legs. She didn’t want anything but that. She wasn’t going to fight it, then. Didn’t want to fight the feeling of her hot body slowly becoming cooler as Liz removed her clothing, peeling off the tight shirt and unhooking her bra to let her breats float free in the sweet, humid, foggy air of the kitchen. Melanie’s nipples were hard and erect, reaching out eagerly for more of the pleasureable sensations that each breath brought into her lungs and each touch of Liz’s fingertips simply intensified.

With Melanie’s breasts free Liz bent down, taking each nipple into her mouth and sucking on them, letting her tongue lap eagerly at them until Melanie began to squirm. Melanie’s body began to tense under this treatment, her chest pressing forward and searching for the feel of that warm, wet mouth.

“Give in, lovely girl,” Liz told her. “Surrender. Let go of it all and just feel what I give you.”

“Yes...” Melanie whispered, spreading her legs wider at this command, moving her hips against her jeans, her body knowing that her clit would feel wonderful if it could just press against the crotch of her pants.

“You want more, lovely girl? Does your cunt want to feel even better?”

“Yes!” Her lips had no trouble forming the cry.

“Then let it happen, pretty slave. Let your body do as it wants. Don’t fight, don’t remember, just give in to what you need.”

Melanie’s breasts became hot and hard once more as Liz’s fingertips began vibrating them. A final thought in Melanie’s mind tried to come forward, tried to stop this, but it was lost in the sensation of those two hands and the sweet, thick fog. Helpless, Melanie’s own hand moved down, undoing the front of her jeans and slipping inside, finding the hot, soaked folds of her cunt and caressing them.

“That’s it, pretty slave. That’s it. That’s what you want. Don’t stop.”

Melanie’s hand kept moving, her fingers tracing the folds of her flesh, dancing around her aching cunt, teasing herself as she coated her hand with her juices, whimpering in frustration when she couldn’t move her hand hard enough to satisfy.

“You want it, my slave. You need it. You are nothing but this. You can do nothing else. You can’t stop. You’ve lost to it. It controls you now. And you want it.”

“Yes... yes...” the words slipped past Melanie’s lips as her hand and hips moved faster. Somehow, somehow she managed to writhe and squirm enough to remove her pants, exposing her hot, swollen cunt to Liz’s eyes but beyond caring as she plunged her fingers deep inside of herself and brought her other hand in to tease her throbbing clit.

“Do it, pretty slave. Do it. Submit to it. Give in to it. Make yourself a slave to it. Feel what happens when you surrender this way.”

“I... please!” she was gasping now, still taking in short breaths of the sweet, wonderful fog, each breath bringing her closer to the edge, making each sensation stronger and stronger. She thrashed on the chair, her body dancing under the feel of her unstoppable fingers and the dizzying scent of the bread.

“Please what, my slave?”

“Please...” it was so hard to think. Each time she tried she had to try to stop her hands for a moment—just a moment—but her body would not keep still. It moved constantly under her fingertips, erasing each thought with a thrust of her hips into her fingers. “Please!”

“Tell me what you want, slave. Tell me what you need.”

“Don’t stop,” she gasped, thrusting harder now, her hand working frantically at her cunt. “Don’t stop!”

“You don’t want it to stop, slave? Then it never shall. Come for me. Come for me, slave, and you will have this forever. Give in to it and it will never go away.”

“Yes...” she whispered, pressing her hand in harder. “Yes. Please. Yes!” She was sobbing now, her body lost to the scent that had now totally filled her. And with each sob she brought herself closer, lost to the sensations, helpless under her hands, thrusting ever harder and harder, begging, crying, plunging her fingers deeper inside of herself until finally she became wild, desperate, screaming in need until suddenly seized from inside by an explosion of pleasure as wave after wave of orgasm rocked her trembling body. “Yes! Yes, please! Oh God, please! Please... please...”

“That’s it,” Liz said, letting her hands lightly caress Melanie’s skin, calming her, soothing and teasing the last of the orgasm from her aching cunt. “That’s it, pretty slave. Well done. Well done indeed. Now didn’t that feel wonderful?”

“Yes...” blackness seeped through Melanie’s mind as she began to pass out.

“Wouldn’t you want it again?”

“...yes...”

The bubbles of laughter made Melanie giggle sleepily. “Good, little slave. Because you don’t have a choice now. You’re mine now, and you aren’t going to leave.”

Melanie smiled at that, slipping into blackness and happy at the silence that kept her from wondering why she didn’t mind.