The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

A strange thing took place that Christmas as Joy’s eyes slowly opened in the dead of night. She wasn’t sure if it was Christmas Eve still or actually Christmas; a glance at the clock on the night stand told her it was midnight, so she really still wasn’t sure which. It didn’t matter, she supposed. With the subtlety of a mouse, she slunk out of the hotel’s firm king size bed, careful not to wake the strange man snoring drunkenly in it, and began searching the room for her gown and other accoutrement from the previous evening’s company Christmas party.

(This was not the strange thing. Joy’s husband may be a vice president at the bank, but he was always too focused on networking at his little soires to keep tabs on where his wife wandered off to, or whom she wandered off with. Not that he had any use for her himself.)

As she helped herself to the cash from her erstwhile lover’s wallet, Joy learned from his driver’s license that this man she’d slept with had been Saul Kovac, one of the other VPs. He had probably told her earlier, but who could listen. Still, Saul Kovacs—this was good; she’d had to listen to her husband drone on about his contempt for the man more than a few times when she made the mistake of asking about his day. She was perfectly happy to take advantage of her husband’s money, but she could care less about his petty troubles. She was a trophy wife, after all, and to a closeted gay husband at that. She tucked the cash into her purse.

(This too, was not strange; she had a boring, easy life and one of her few little joys came from petty thieving. Snatching a a bracelet here, a blouse there; presently, grifting $468 from a surprisingly fit 40-something VP of one of the largest banks in the east coast.)

Joy dressed thoroughly and took her time to make everything just so. This was odd under the circumstances but perhaps not truly “strange,” as it was her habit to present her best side on any public occasion. Her hair wasn’t in the glorious array it had been at last night’s party, but it was still elegant enough to pass muster, cascading in softly curled waves of golden blonde tresses just past her shoulder blades. She spent a good while tidying up her makeup, reapplying lipstick and blush to her collagen-enhanced lips and cheekbones, then turned her attention to her wardrobe.

She began with her gown. It had cost her—or, well, cost her husband—thirty-some thousand dollars, and while he likely wouldn’t agree, she thought it was worth every penny. It was a daringly brilliant scarlet, with silver and gold threading at the waist and along her décolletage to accentuate her stunning body. It was form-fitting around the hips and showed every curve and dimple in her butt (necessitating she wear it sans underwear, but dear old Saul hadn’t seemed to mind that). The fit bowed out around the chest such that it did nothing to support or rein in her breasts (indeed, it barely even touched them, tantalizing all with half-glimpses)—that was the job of her plastic surgeon, after all, who’d taken her naturally magnificent breasts and turned them into perfect hemispherical gravity-defying works of art. They’d cost less than either one of her white-gold pink-diamond earrings, and not even half her ruby-studded necklace.

All this was more or less normal as well.

No, what was strange was that after she slipped out of the hotel room and donned her designer heels, she realized she had no idea where she was going, but her feet seemed to be quite sure. Curious and a bit nervous, she made her way out through the lobby, down the sidewalk, and on into the city, nearly alone on the brisk Christmas night.

Cole was surprised to hear his doorbell ring at any occasion, but on a holiday, it was doubly unexpected, especially now in the middle of the night. He had no family to speak of—his parents had passed, and his sister seldom made it back to the states. Neither did he have a girlfriend, mostly for lack of time and money.

Not that Cole was unhappy—he had a fulfilling life and a job he loved working at a prestigious Manhattan bank. He didn’t love the bank—there was a constant struggle to reconcile his working there with his own humanist values—but as Director of Philanthropic Outreach, it positioned him to funnel some of that ocean of money towards genuinely worthy causes. It certainly hadn’t been the sort of company he’d envisioned working for as a young man, but he’d been surprised at his success at changing the office’s culture to give him as much freedom and budgetary discretion as possible.

It was hard work, but he got to make a difference in the world. Right now, all across the region and even in far-flung parts of the world, people were having Christmases with a little more food for hungry mouths, a few more toys for children who’d otherwise have none, a few more treatments for the sick. As always, Cole himself was spending Christmas alone, but he had those thoughts for company, and so the loneliness was less lonely.

The doorbell rang again, shaking him from his efforts to drift back to sleep. He forced himself to his feet and donned his robe sluggishly, dog tired after the company Christmas party. Cole was never one for high society socializing, but he’d nonetheless needed to be there to glad-hand the board members and VIPs, remind them of how their donations and budget allowances were doing good works. He’d come up short of his fund-raising goal again this year thanks to those heartless rich pricks. Even after nearly twenty years at the bank he still had to reintroduce himself every time.

To be fair, he was fairly forgettable, he supposed. He was neither enticingly handsome nor memorably ugly, neither short nor tall, his dark hair cut in the standard way, his belly a bit bigger than it used to be but he didn’t think he was yet “fat.” He hoped. He was a thousand people one walked by every day without noticing.

The woman on the other side of the door, however, was anything but.

“Um, hello?” Cole hadn’t meant it to sound a question, but to be confronted with the sight of his boss’s boss’s boss’s wife dressed in the same jaw-droppingly alluring attire she’d worn to the party last night was something he’d not expected. (He’d been betting on a prank, or maybe some poor over-worked delivery man making a last-ditch effort to deliver a gift on time.)

“Um, hello,” she responded. Not a question, but she sounded no less certain as to what was happening than he felt.

“It’s Mrs. Donner, right?” He didn’t need to ask. She was legendary, after all. Some said she was the best thing about going to the company parties, a rumor she knew her indiscretions with myriad bank employees encouraged. It never hurt to be popular; sometimes a favor was even better than money.

“Joy,” she said simply, peering around into his home curiously. The respect of “Mrs. Donner” was nice, but she didn’t like to be named for her limp-dicked husband. Cole puzzled at how the gaze of a beautiful woman of means could so handily shrink his contentment with his modest living arrangement. Which was her intention.

“Joy, of course. I’m Cole. Or... maybe you knew. I work at the bank, with your husband,” he prompted.

“For my husband,” she corrected. “Now are you going to invite me in or shall I just freeze here on the doorstep?” she asked at last, her voice even frostier than the chill night air.

“Oh! Of course, please,” he said, standing aside. She came in and shut the door; he supposed that in that dress of hers with not even a coat for warmth, she must be cold indeed.

“Please, have a seat,” he said, gesturing to his shabby old couch. And she did, most promptly. That was odd, she thought, even odder than coming over here. It felt... good to be sitting. Not that it made her happy, just... it was like scratching an itch.

She crossed her legs, and the dress, which had looked like it covered her nearly to the ankle, revealed a subtle cut that went so far up her thigh that it revealed her smooth thigh nearly to the hip. He made himself not stare just a tad too late for her not to notice.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“No,” she said, looking around still curiously, nervously. “No, I’m... fine.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Do you mind telling me what you’re doing here, then?”

“I... well, I’m actually not exactly sure.” Her lips twisted downward slightly.

This gave Cole pause. Such an odd thing to say, certainly, yet whatever was going on he could hardly afford to risk offending the wife of one of the bank’s most influential executives. “Um... can I interest you in a bite to eat? I don’t have much, but I can scrounge up something, I’m sure.”

She made a face that subtly expressed her lack of interest in any food to be found in such environs. “Please, don’t go to any trouble on my account.”

“Have a cup of coffee, at least,” he pressed, eager for any excuse to even temporarily escape the uncomfortable situation unfolding.

She opened her mouth to refuse, but heard a polite “yes, that would be good” pass her lips instead. Cole excused himself to the kitchen to put on a pot. The distraction wasn’t good for much, though—it only took a few moments, and standing alone watching coffee brew was even more awkward than sitting with the bejeweled beauty in the next room.

Nervously, he returned. There was no use trying to make small talk; the elephant in the room was simply too large to be spoken around. Nodding to her attire (while carefully keeping his eyes from the literal booby trap of her neckline), Cole mentioned as casually as he could, “I see you’re still dressed up from the party last night. Great party, that. Just great.”

“Mm” was her only reply. She felt the awkwardness every bit as keenly as did he, perhaps more so in her get-up, but she still didn’t desire to lower herself to making chit-chat with this nobody.

He cleared his pile of junk mail off his seldom-used arm chair and seated himself, careful to situate his robe to preserve modesty. “So, did you have fun this year? I thought the food was excellent.”

She gave a long-suffering sigh. “Look, Cliff...”

“Cole.”

“Sure, Cole. I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s very late and I am simply not interested in making conversation with a man who, from the looks of this place, doesn’t earn enough in a month to afford my shoes.” This was true. Her heels were hand-designed by one of New York’s finest, and had cost nearly $22,000.

Cole frowned. Boss’s boss’s boss’s wife or no, it was the middle of the night, on his holiday weekend, in his living room. “Well, stopping by unannounced and at such an hour, you should at least be polite,” he said curtly.

She considered, then nodded. It felt good to agree. Felt right. “You’re right, of course Cole. Shall I call you Cole, or Mister....?”

“Cole is fine, Joy.”

She smiled. It neither felt nor looked sincere, but it was at least a clear effort of courtesy. “Cole, then. I apologize for speaking so rudely. I am grateful to you for your hospitality, letting me in at such an hour. You’re a very kind man.”

Well that was a sudden shift, Cole thought. “Oh, well, it was, um, my pleasure. Hmm, I think the coffee’s about done, if you’ll excuse me.”

The coffee wasn’t done, but he slipped out the side door from the kitchen and into his bathroom to straighten his hair, given his teeth a few quick brushes and otherwise freshen up before skulking back to get mugs and pour. He solicited her preferences on cream and sugar, then brought her the mug.

Both were keenly aware of how ridiculous this all was, the buxom socialite sipping coffee from an “I ♥ weekends” mug in her evening gown in his living room. “This is a most excellent blend,” she commented after a sip.

“Oh, be honest,” he replied modestly. “It’s about the cheapest thing in the store. It’s only good for getting caffeine in the body without having to inject the stuff.”

“Well, I’d actually been thinking it was disgusting but I didn’t want to offend you,” she replied, eyes widening at her own sudden candor. “Some poor people seem to be proud of the most inordinately loathsome things, I’ve noted.” Finally finished, she clapped a hand over her mouth to halt herself.

He just stared, his own mug forgotten. “I don’t mean to give offense, but... are you taking drugs?”

Joy’s hand and its immaculately manicured nails lowered immediately so she could respond, again with total honesty. “Not at the moment, though I have quite a stash at home.” Horror at the realization of what was happening warred internally with puzzlement over how it could be. Simultaneously on a second front, a battle raged over just how right it felt to be complying.

“What’s going on then? I’m sorry to be so direct, but this is all very strange and I must insist.”

“Well, I’m not sure what’s causing it, but I slept with Saul Kovac, and when I got finished I just got dressed and walked over here without knowing why. Now, I seem to be obeying your every spoken command.” She blushed, her skin complementing her scarlet dress.

He gave a long stare. “I haven’t ‘commanded’ you to do anything.”

She shook her head. “Begging pardon, but you did. You told me to sit down, have some coffee, be polite, and be honest. Believe me when I say I had no desire to do any of those things, but I find myself powerless to resist. Though I confess the last two seem to be somewhat at odds with each other, so do let me know if you’d rather I’d err on one side or the other.” Her breathing quickened; this was frightening enough that she was nearing the point of hyperventilation.

Seeing her state, he came over and spoke in a soothing tone. “Calm down, Joy. Take deep breaths.”

And as he said it, her breathing became regular in just a few moments. She smiled again—to be congenial—and waved away his concern. “I am sorry about that. I don’t know why I was so worked up.” So she was under the control of this loathsome serf—nothing to get in a tizzy over.

As he sat back down across the room, Cole began to process what she’d said about her reaction to his incidental comments, and her response to his simple attempts to stop her from having a panic attack. “This must be some kind of prank,” he said, peering about at the windows to look for a camera person. The curtains were all drawn.

“It isn’t. I wish it were, but everything I’m telling you is true.”

“Prove it,” he said challengingly.

She arched a perfectly tweezed and defined eyebrow. “How shall I do that? You’ve only my word to go on, and while so far my behavior has been in keeping with your requests, none of it is exactly proof. Perhaps if you ordered me to do something I certainly wouldn’t do?”

All manner of torrid thoughts flooded into his head, but he wouldn’t risk his career telling Mr. Donner’s wife to do them unless he was good and sure this was for real. Which it couldn’t be, of course. Could it? He sipped his coffee as he struggled to hatch a plan. “Tell me some things about yourself you’ve never been willing to tell anyone else,” he said at last.

She thought for a long moment, wondering also if she was consuming his vile brew because he’d told her to have some coffee, or because he’d told her to be polite. “All right then. When I was in prep school I started a rumor that the girl who thought she was my best friend had HIV from having anal sex with a male prostitute, just so her boyfriend would break up with her and she wouldn’t be able to wear the dress I’d wanted to wear to Lindsay Kaiser’s debutante ball.”

He tried to conceal a horrified look as she went on. “My husband is gay. I married him to help him hide it from the board of directors because he knows several of them are homophobic, and I’ve arranged for photos to be leaked of him sleeping with his assistant Hunter if he ever tries to divorce me, so I can do whatever I want with his money and he can’t say peep.

“Oh! When I was seven years old, I peed myself on a school field trip and had to spill my lunch on my lap to have an excuse to change. Let’s see, what else...” She openly winced in remorse at having had to admit such things. Still, on another, paradoxical level it felt good to be saying them.

“Please, please that’s enough,” he said, rather disgusted. Not so much at the last bit—that was humiliating to admit, he was sure, but not damning like the rest of it. “You’re... a really mean person.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” she replied, then the need to be totally honest caught up with her. “Not because I care about your opinion of me, but being completely under your control, I’m afraid you’ll punish me. I hope that’s not impolite to say.”

“Ugh, never mind the politeness,” he said, tired of the hollow courtesy of this serpent-turned-woman.

“Good. Now let me go, you little toad, or as soon as I get out of here I’ll have my husband fire you. And I know other people who could do things to make your pathetic life even more unpleasant than it must already be.”

“Well, that command certainly worked,” Cole grumbled to himself. “So if I let you go, you’d just forget this all happened?”

Polite or not, she still knew she had to be completely truthful. “Of course not. I’m going to do those things regardless.”

He frowned. “Well that doesn’t leave me much incentive to help you, now does it?”

“I don’t have a fully formed plan yet, but I’m sure it will be worse for you the more you drag this out,” she reasoned aloud.

“Hmm. Well then, if you really are under my control, tell me—what would you do if you were in my shoes?”

She stroked her chin (which was also perfect, though naturally, not surgically) in pensive thought. “Well, if I were a lonely paunchy peasant like yourself, and I had the opportunity to do anything at all with a ravishing woman of means like me, I would take full advantage. Act out my every fantasy. If she were as rude to me as I’m being to you, I would punish her for it, find her weak points and target them. Then I’d take her for all she was worth. And I’d get as much of it on camera as possible to hold over her head as blackmail, so if she ever got free I could make sure she could never get revenge on me.” Damn but it felt good to say all that, even as stupid and self-destructive as it was.

“Good Lord, you’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

“Hey, you asked.” She shrugged.

“Well fine. Let’s at least start on that last—I’d rather not be fired.” He got out his camera phone and began recording, setting it in the corner of the room. He had her state for the record that everything she was doing was of her own free will, then had her repeat all the embarrassing confessions again on the record. He put the phone away when she finished.

She was bright red by that point, breathing a little fast. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m just... well, I’m a little aroused I think,” she said, flushing.

“Aroused?”

She glared. “Yes. Obeying your commands seems to trigger it. It just... I don’t know. It feels good. Even if it feels wrong, too.”

“Any command? Like if I say... Joy, touch your nose.”

She did, immediately. “Yes,” she said. “Just a little flutter, but yes.”

“Hmm. I wonder if I can just tell you to be really aroused and skip all that,” he mused.

“Well how in the fuck should I know? This is my first time as someone’s mind-controlled plaything,” she shot back.

“Fair enough. Joy, you are incredibly aroused. More than you’ve ever been before.” He watched her for signs of a reaction. He wasn’t sure what to look for, but there was nothing immediate. Maybe she was breathing a little faster, but that was it. “Well?”

She grit her teeth. “I’m insanely horny. My pussy is starting to get so wet it’s going to ruin my dress if I don’t do something about it soon. As soon as you said it, I felt my nipples harden like little diamonds. My heart is racing.”

“All right, all right—never mind that last command,” he said, and with that, she felt it rush out of her, like a plug had been pulled. She still felt a background haze of lust, though.

She took a moment to compose herself. “So what are you going to do with me then? More of these little parlor tricks?”

“Well, what I really want is to be able to go back to bed.”

She glared daggers. “Really? You have a beautiful woman at your beck and call and you want to sleep?”

“It’s two in the morning! And don’t worry, I’m much too afraid of what you might do unsupervised to go back to sleep. For now, I’m afraid there’s nothing to do but keep ourselves occupied. Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“You’re hungry.”

She was hungry.

“Let’s go.”

A little while later, his dilapidated car pulled into the drive-thru line at one of the few fast food joints still open at this hour on Christmas. Cole had gotten dressed, though his jeans and sweater still made an ill match for her expensive gown. “Ugh, I’ve never eaten fast food before. Is it as disgusting as everyone says?” Still, her tummy rumbled at the prospect of getting something in it.

“Well you’re about to find out. Now can I trust you to not run off your mouth and make life difficult for me?”

“No,” she replied instantly, honestly. “As soon as we get in front of people, I’m going to tell them you’ve kidnapped me and try to get the police called, or maybe get an employee out to to beat the crap out of you, then I’ll escape.”

He rolled his eyes. “Of course you are. Glad I asked. All right, Joy, let’s make some adjustments. First, you’re madly in love with me.”

A broad grin came over her features. It looked out of place even to him, like she’d never felt such emotions before and her face had no idea how to show it. “Oh, of course I am, darling. You’re the only man for me. It doesn’t matter that you’re poor and plain and drive this beat-up piece of shit car. You’re the man I want to grow old with.”

That should have been enough, but the ease of it, combined with being a little annoyed at her, just made him keep going. “You think I’m the sexiest man you’ve ever seen.”

“Oh, who wouldn’t,” she said in a dusky voice he was yet to hear from her. “You’re fucking perfect. I’ve never met a man who can make a receding hairline work for him so well, to say nothing of your scrumptiously pudgy Dad bod,” she purred.

“How is it you become more annoying as you become more my pet?”

“Hey now, just because I love you doesn’t mean you can talk to me like that. I’m still the best thing that’s ever going to happen to you, you know, and I can cut you off just like that.” She snapped her fingers.

“No, Joy. You feel very lucky to be with me, and you worry that I’ll lose interest in you so you’ll do anything, say anything to keep my attention and good graces. You know you’re not good enough for me, so you pay close attention to what I want so you can give it to me.”

Her mind contorted further. In mere seconds, she found herself feeling grateful he was patient enough to explain all this to her, to make her into something more to his liking. She pitied women who had to have normal relationships, had to think for themselves to figure out how to act, while Joy got to be the living breathing plaything of her perfect man. She saw he was looking down her neckline (again), and smiled. “Want to play with my breasts, my love?”

He considered. “Tug your dress down.”

Joy grinned brightly as she obeyed. Obedience felt as good as ever, and her nipples, small and brown and perfectly centered on her perfect breasts, were hard immediately as she pulled the cups that guarded them down.

“Good. Now let’s get some food.”

“Um, won’t they see me... like this?” She looked down to her exposed breasts.

“Is that a problem?”

She frowned. “You know I’ll do anything to make you happy. I just... it’s embarrassing.”

“But you get turned on by being embarrassed.”

Oh God did she ever. Sitting in this shitty car next to what most women of her station would think was a total loser with her breasts exposed for some high school dropout moron burger jockey to ogle... it was fucking hot.

Sure enough, as they pulled up to pay, the guy standing there dropped the money between the car and the window as he stared blatantly. Cole didn’t say anything, and Joy just sat there, humiliated to be half-naked for this twerp but so turned on she didn’t even lift her hands to cover herself. It went on for a good minute or so before another employee, a heavyset older man whose nametag identified him as the night manager, came over to ask what the hold-up was, then followed his minion’s gaze to Joy’s tits.

He was evidently slightly more gallant, and cleared his throat as he shoved the younger fellow back into the grill area, craning his neck as he departed. “Ma’am? Your, ah, dress has slipped down some. Sorry about that—I’ll give him a talking to.”

“She knows. She’s just a slut.” Cole said. “Though the kid dropped my money down on the street, and I can’t really open the door...”

Obviously put off by the first part of his statement, the night manager chose to focus on the last part. “Just pull on up, and I’ll send somebody out to pick it up and we’ll get you your change, sir.”

Cole thanked him and did just that. He turned to Joy, who was practically panting with lust. “You can play with yourself if you want to.”

“I don’t,” she said firmly. She wanted to fuck Cole, the hottest man in the universe, but there was a world of difference between teasing losers with some harmless flashing and actually letting them see her masturbate like a cheap slut. She did not want to touch herself in even the tiniest way.

“Yes you do.”

Oh God did she ever. She didn’t hesitate for an instant before spreading her thighs as wide as they would go in the tiny hatchback and teasing at her moistening lips. By the time the window slid open and Cole was handed his beverage, she was wet enough to make sliding two fingers in more than possible. She wished he’d just told her to play with herself instead of telling her to want to play with herself; she’d been noticing that obeying in action was so much hotter than obeying in thought, dragged out the pleasure of it. She thought much the same as Cole guided her free hand to one of her breasts, clearly wanting to see her play with her tits. She indulged him wantonly, overwhelmed by the delight of being shown how to please him combined with the glorious humiliation of being watched by these low-lifes and the bliss of working her pussy and clit.

She came when the night manager handed Cole his change and told him he and his lady friend needed to leave before he notified the police.

“That’s enough now, Joy,” he told her as he pulled away. She folded her hands in her lap demurely, quietly sad he didn’t make her lick her fingers clean. Disgusting, but it would be so embarrassing.

He drove in silence for a few minutes; they were nearly the only car on the road, which was good considering the likelihood that her tits might cause an accident. “How you feeling?” Cole asked solicitously as he turned onto his street.

“I’m so horny!” she whined. “You’re so fucking sexy, and you have me sitting here half-naked in public like a little slut and I just want you to command me to please you, tell me what to do so I can do it for you, convince you to fuck me, order me around like I was your plaything, boss me—”

“I get it, I get it,” he said, cutting her off. He stopped in front of his house and put it in park. He hadn’t told her he was bored of seeing her topless yet—and with a divinely inspired rack like hers, what man ever would—and so she followed him into his house as such, taking his arm and doing her best to press her side-boob against him when possible.

He sat down in his chair, disappointingly; she’d hoped he’d go for the couch so there was room to curl up beside him. “Can I sit in your lap, Cole? Please?” It was desperate-sounding, but she was desperate, and maybe he’d like that anyway.

“Return to your usual self, Joy.” A shock ran through her as her thoughts suddenly reverted to normal, and he quickly added, “only don’t do anything to bring me harm or trouble.”

Like that, all thoughts of braining him with that lamp or calling the police left her.

“You perverted little bastard!” she snarled at him as she tugged her bodice back into place, wishing fervently that doing so concealed her more than it did. A parka wouldn’t be concealing enough right now. “How DARE you show me off like that! Twist me into some insipid little bimbo!”

He took a bite of his burger. “You couldn’t be trusted,” he said around his mouthful. “Still can’t, really.”

“Then just let me go!” she demanded. “If you aren’t going to... use me, and you can’t trust me, as you said, then release me this instant!”

He chewed for a while, ignoring her. The drive had given him time to think, and he’d come up with a plan that would satisfy everyone. Joy didn’t give him the satisfaction of pleading, though, just folding her arms across her chest angrily (and protectively). When he finished his burger, he sipped his drink. “You were awfully keen on me giving you more orders, back in the car. Why was that?”

“You made me,” she accused him.

“No I didn’t. Now answer the question honestly and completely.”

Her glare intensified. “I told you already. Obeying you feels good, even if it’s something I want to do. Changing my thoughts seems to do it for just a moment as it happens, but controlling my actions makes it last as long as I’m obeying.”

“So, if I told you to just get down on your hands and knees and crawl around the room right now, that would feel good?”

“Yes,” she said guardedly, “but don’t you fucking—”

“Get down on your hands and knees and crawl around the room.”

Instantly, she slid down off the couch and onto the floor, shuffling slowly around on the hard carpet. The damage this must be doing to her designer gown was itself an unforgivable crime, as much so as the feeling of his eyes peering easily down her décolletage at where her breasts dangled freely beneath her, swinging softly from side to side with each crawling step in rhythm with her ruby necklace. As she made it past the halfway point of her first lap, he was instead treated to a view of her sculpted ass shimmying side to side in the form-fitting material.

And damn it all if it didn’t feel fucking great anyway. Like a sensual massage for her brain, fogging her thoughts with contentment and pleasure so that thinking became an effort.

She made several laps, Cole watching her calmly as he worked on his fries, before trying to retort. “Had your fun yet?”

“Have you? Does it feel good?”

“Very, but that doesn’t mean I don’t hate you.”

“I could make you love me again if you’d prefer.”

She grunted, remembering the saccharine adoration she’d felt for him a short time ago. “I’d rather hate you, thanks.”

“Fine with me.” His plan was better if she didn’t. He shoved a few more fries down his gullet. “So, is that wet spot on the back of your dress from now, or from when you were entertaining the burger joint staff in the car?”

She frowned. “I don’t know. Damn it that better come out.”

“Well check.”

She looked over her shoulder at him questioningly, butt undulating from side to side, keenly aware now of the wet spot on it now that he’d pointed it out. “What the hell do you mean, ‘check’?”

“Just use your hand and see. Is your pussy wet now, or was it just wet then?”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t need to use my hand to answer that, you idiot. I’m wet now, OK? I told you, this obedience shit makes me horny.”

“Would you get hornier if I gave you more orders?”

“Why the fuck would you think I would know that? What am I, the wikipedia of mind control?”

“Arch your back more. Really work on showing off your ass.”

Joy did. With her back arched, she may as well not have been wearing the bodice any more; the loose-fitting thing let her breasts slide right up out of it and into the cool air of the room. She began taking longer strides with her knees, letting the gown accentuate one ass cheek and then the other, allowing the full effect of her pilates-sculpted ass show at the mid-point of each crawling lunge.

“Well?”

She heaved a sigh. She knew what he was asking, but she didn’t want to acknowledge it. “Well what?”

“Do you feel hornier?”

“Yes,” Joy said tersely.

He took another long sip at his straw before he snatched the last few french fries and popped them in his mouth. “Come clean off my fingers,” he ordered casually, holding out his right hand, greasy and salty from its recent contents.

With the utmost sensuality, she squirmed over to him, then picked up the discarded paper bag from the floor and fished out the napkins therein. Cole sighed, annoyed with her attempts to circumvent his obvious meaning. “No, with your mouth, Joy.” He considered telling her to obey him according to the spirit of his commands, but he was frankly too frightened by how this snake of a woman might interpret something to leave matters up to her interpretation.

Joy, too ashamed to even attempt a rejoinder, dropped the napkins and rose to her knees. Her breasts still popped out of her neckline somewhat, just enough that her nipples were partially visible; she let it remain that way rather than conceal them and just make him tell her to display them again.

Not that that would be so bad, she thought as she slid his pinky into her mouth, wrapping her lips around it snugly and sliding up to the tip with painstaking methodicalness. She was fast remembering her previous desire to be bossed around. It felt exquisite, like a soft slow fuck on a lazy Saturday with nothing to do all night but see how long you can drag it out. Every command just added to it.

In fact, she thought as she took in his ring finger and slathered it wetly with her tongue, she’d almost be stupid not to egg him on. She was stuck in this situation, after all, and was blameless for anything that happened. Whether or not Cole was a toad, she was certain to enjoy herself regardless. Her brain already felt like it was getting fucked, and he hadn’t even touched her erogenous zones yet.

His middle finger was the first one to actually have salt on it. “Suck it slower,” he said softly, and she trembled with pleasure as she relaxed her pace (which had been pretty damn slow to begin with, the pig). The initial jolt was nearly a small orgasm, and as she slid her lips up and down, up and down his thick finger, she was perfectly happy to drag it out.

With a wicked little grin, she let out a few warm, moist breaths on his index finger before skipping it for the thumb. Joy had never in her life sucked a cock, but since that seemed to be an impending reality, she treated it was practice, coordinating lips and tongue and teeth and neck and jaw and eyes. He definitely liked it when she looked up at him. Of course he did. She was a fucking babe.

She sucked his index finger for almost five minutes. By the time she finished, she could see his erection throbbing through his jeans. The digit slipped out of her mouth with a wet pop, a planned-and-successfully-executed tendril of saliva connecting it to her lower lip for a few seconds before physics severed the tie. With her task complete, the tide of pleasure faded. She felt empty inside.

Cole noticed her pouty expression, and said simply, “cum.”

Joy’s eyes bulged out in shock as an orgasm that might have registered on the Richter scale ripped through her body. She flopped over on her back, writhing and quavering in ecstasy as it started in her pussy and spread to every muscle in her body, flooding her mind with an ocean of endorphines. Cole watched bemused to see how easy it had been as she slowly recovered.

“That was... that was...” she tried, then decided he hadn’t really earned a compliment. “You’re the laziest asshole I’ve ever met, you know that? Most men would kill for the opportunity to give a woman like me a genuine thrill.”

“Thank me,” he said, rolling his eyes as her vitriolic nature showed itself again.

“Thank you,” she said simply. Still, there had been the tell-tale tremble as she obeyed.

She came back up to her knees but no further, this time taking a moment to tuck her breasts back into her dress to the extent possible. “So what, now we’re just going to sit around and stare at each other?”

He eyed her for a long time, enjoying letting her sweat the anticipation. Even after that mind-quaking orgasm, she was hungry for more and impatient for him to get on with it. She’d suck his dick if she had to, and obeying his command to do it would be a fabulous warm-up. Sooner or later, she knew he’d want to try out her pussy—what man wouldn’t?—and then, she’d have it made. Pleasure on tap.

“Nothing?” she prompted after a while. Annoying him seemed to spur him to action. “What’s the matter, your prick doesn’t work?”

“It works just fine,” he said nonchalantly. She was clearly, visibly turned on; he knew she was just trying to get his goat now.

“Well? Aren’t you going to do something with it? Got the hottest woman you’re ever going to get to touch here and you’re too much of a pussy to do something with her?”

“Well, I would enjoy having my dick sucked.”

FINALLY. “Fat chance.”

“Well there’s a certainty, actually, but... I’d rather you did it because you want to.”

“So make me want to, stupid. I’m sure as hell not going to just spontaneously start drooling at the thought of your prick in my mouth.”

“Maybe not spontaneously, but... drool at the thought of my prick in your mouth.”

She thought about it. The way it would taste, how the bumps would feel against her tongue, the little twitches as it responded to her technique. Her salivary glands kicked in within moments, flooding her mouth. It tasted like obedience. Like pleasure.

“You’re an ash—” she was cut off mid-accusation as a long line of drool leaked out. Her eyes bulged in embarrassment, and she covered her mouth with a hand.

Cole laughed. “All right, you can stop—sorry, that was a little much.”

She took a moment to recover, and her mouth thankfully cooperated. It had felt good a moment ago to drool over his cock, and now it felt good not to. Because she was told to. Damn it the more he ordered her around the more she wanted it.

She grabbed a napkin from his dinner bag and wiped her mouth. “Real funny. This is how you’re going to use your power over me? Juvenile pranks and petty jabs?”

Cole folded his arms across his chest. “Oh? How should I be using it?”

“Any heterosexual male in their right mind would’ve been fucking me an hour ago.”

“Oh, is that right? I guess you should get yourself ready to be fucked then.”

Her pussy fluttered—she didn’t even understand why, except she knew how bad she wanted to get fucked. It was already wet. It had been wet for a good while. Just for good measure, she moved to her hands and knees, pointing it right at him. “I’ve been ready.” She put a little smoke into her voice.

“I can’t exactly fuck you with your dress on.”

“So tell me to take it off.”

“So that’s it, huh. You’re going to make walk you through this step by step?”

“Well I’m sure as hell not going to volunteer.”

“Joy... be honest.”

Goddamnit, this again. She sighed, and hoped her shoulders slumping in defeat was mistaken for presenting herself. “I’m really fucking horny and I’m halfway to cumming just from obeying your commands so I’m trying to make you give me more by being uncooperative.”

“Well why didn’t you just say so?”

Cole had meant it rhetorically, standing and undoing his belt. “Because I’m a haughty bitch who doesn’t usually have to do anything to get men to do what she wants and I’m way too proud to ask for it.”

He kicked off his shoes and lowered his pants to the floor. “Well, that explains it all right.”

Joy sat trembling with need as she listened to him take off the rest of his clothes. But then she heard the creaking of his chair springs as he sat back down. She turned around, glaring daggers. “What the fuck are you waiting for now?” He wasn’t even fully hard! How dare he look at her cute little ass and not get hard?

Time to enact the plan, he thought. “Well, here’s the thing. You’re a moneyed individual, right?”

“Yeah, so? What, you hear to work out some class warfare bullshit on me?”

“Do you know what I do at the bank?”

“No. It’s obviously not very important or I would know.”

“I’m the Director of Philanthropic Outreach.”

“Oh, you sound like such a big deal!” she said, mockery plain in her voice.

“I know I’m not, not to someone like you. Someone whose family I’ve asked for donations for nigh on two decades now and who’ve never given a cent because you had to get a bigger private jet for yourselves.”

“What? So now you’re going to pick on me because my husband cheaped out on you? Welcome to the club!”

“But you have access to his checkbook, right? You said earlier you were blackmailing him, so you could spend all you wanted.”

“I’m... well... yes,” she admitted guardedly.

“Now Joy, I know you’d probably sleep well after burning down an occupied homeless shelter for the insurance money, but me... I actually care about the less fortunate. I got into my line of work because I wanted to take all that money flowing through the bank and turn as much of it as I could toward good works.”

“Yawn.”

“And well, I was worried, because I’m short of my annual goal and the Christmas party was my last chance, and I have a project that lots of people are depending on. I didn’t know how I was going to break it to them. But now...”

“So you’re going to rob me, then fuck me. Real fucking classy.”

“No, not at all. Do you still want to be fucked?”

“Yes,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Do you still want me to boss you around, tell you what to do?”

“Yes.” If tones could kill...

“Good. I’ll be glad to give you as many orders as you want. But each one is going to cost you and your husband a donation to the bank’s charitable foundation. Let’s say... a thousand dollars per command.”

“What!” she shrieked.

“What do you care? It’s your husband’s money, right?”

“Yeah, but that’s for me to waste, not for you to give away buying goats for a bunch of homeless leper orphans in the ass crack of Kerblakistan.”

“Wow. Thanks for showing me what classy really looks like, Joy. Anyway, it’s up to you now. Any time you want me to give you an order, just ask. Otherwise, I’m gonna hit the hay and I’ll leave you here, wet and horny and with nothing to obey.” Cole stood up and started walking down the hall to his room. He shut the door behind him without hesitating.

“Wait!” she called out.

His bedroom door opened, and he poked his head back out. “Yes?”

“Come back,” she said softly.

“You come here,” he said.

Joy eased herself to her feet—it felt like it had been forever since she’d stood up—as a little burst of pleasure went off in her mind. She shuffled down the hall towards him; her heels made each mincing step a boob-jiggling eye-feast.

“That one was free,” he said as she stopped in front of him, head lowered.

“Could you, um, do another one?”

“It’ll cost you.”

“Just fucking do it already!” she whined.

“All right,” he said, then with a red marker she hadn’t seen him holding due to the door frame, he drew a small line on her chest. She stumbled back, confused. “My first command to you is to let me draw a tally mark on you every time you’re given an order. Wearing it means obeying. The more you wear, the more you’re obeying me.”

She felt it again, the joy of submission. She touched a finger to where he’d marked her, rubbing it softly. It was like its own small pleasure center, proof of obedience.

“More,” she murmured.

“Come into the bedroom,” he said, adding another tally.

She entered, standing at the foot of his bed demurely.

“More,” she said. Another tally.

“Strip to the waist.”

Joy grabbed the bodice of her dress and pulled it down. Her impeccably sculpted breasts jutted out proudly, ignoring gravity. Her nipples looked like they were ready to cut glass she was so horny. They quivered with each heaving breath she took.

He walked from side to side, inspecting them from all angles—but not touching. She knew he wouldn’t proceed without her conceding.

She nodded. “Go ahead. Feel my breasts.”

He drew another tally. “Ask again. But from now on, they’re not breasts.”

She gave him a wicked little smile. “Grope my tits.”

He drew a crossbar. I just paid $5,000 to be allowed to ask a man to feel me up. “Any time you ask me for a favor, you have to say please. And it’ll cost you.”

Her tits ached to be touched. She wanted to hit him. To throw him down and jump on his cock and punch him in the face while she rode him for a year. But instead, she adopted a meek tone. “Please, grope my tits?”

He reached out and his fingers barely brushed across each nipple, then he pulled back as she went rigid in delight. “You’re getting closer to being respectful... but you forgot to call me ‘sir’.” Make that $6,000.

Just that ghost of a touch had been exquisite, as brief and as intense as a bolt of lightning, and she was by now beyond eager. She was desperate to comply. “Please grope my big titties, sir. Please? Pretty pretty please?” She hoped if she laid it on thick enough she’d get the fondling she was craving.

“Guide my hands.” She first seized his wrist and guided it up to add another tally mark. By now, that spot on her chest was throbbing with pleasure, like a second clit. Each mark he added was a long slow swirl of his tongue. Then she capped the marker and tucked it in the waist of her dress and took one of his big hands in each of her delicate ones.

Joy gasped in delight when she brought them to her tits. She had him grasp them first, just to appreciate the works of art that they were. Soon, he was tweaking her nipples. Her fingers closed over his, and together the two of them teased and pinched and pulled them as she moaned in ecstasy. She couldn’t have said whether it was his hands or his commands that were thrilling her more.

“More please, sir,” she said at last.

“Take off the rest of that dress.”

After retrieving his marker and adding a mark, she treated him to a little show. She tugged it down slowly, undulating her hips and pivoting to let him see her ass as she peeled the crimson garment down her legs. It should be criminal to allow a garment that expensive to sit on the floor of this shabby little hovel, but by now, she didn’t care. Joy would have tossed the thing in a fire just to be given one more command.

Finally, she stood before him naked except for the spiked heels and some jewelry valuable enough to pay off his mortgage. “Don’t stop now,” she said needily, then adding, “please, sir.”

“Bend over the bed.”

Joy turned around and bent over, resting her hands on the bed and wiggling her butt enticingly. It was finally happening. She was finally going to get fucked!

His hand rested on her right ass cheek, squeezing softly. It was more honestly earned than her tits, but no less alluring for it. “Now, Joy, you know what you are?”

“A... slut?” She was beyond snarky answers now. She just said what she thought he wanted to hear so he’d fuck her already.

“Well yes, that, but you’re also a very bad girl. And do you know what bad girls get?” He patted her butt softly.

“Oh no. No, not that.”

“Say it, Joy. Tell me what bad girls get.”

She closed her eyes, dread still too weak to overpower her frenzy of lust. “They get spankings.”

“That’s right,” he said, and without warning his other hand came down on her ass, open-palmed. Hard. She squeaked in surprise and pain. “Now that one was free. The next ten, you need to ask for. One at a time,”

“No!” she protested. “No, please sir, please just fuck me! I’m so wet, so fucking horrrrrnyyyy,” she whined. “Just fuck me! I’ll give you the money for the spankings, but just stick it in me, please, sir! Bad little girls need to get their pussies stuffed too! Please, sir, please!”

He let her work through her begging, waiting patiently. Eventually, she realized he wasn’t going to give in.

Joy took a deep breath. “Please spank me, sir.”

A cold wetness on her lower back—a tally mark. A moment later, he granted her request. As she asked for another, then another and another, her back arched and her butt thrust out, pleading for him to spank her, the pleasure from it overwhelmed the pain and shame as red marks were added to the count and redder hand prints added to her bare butt.

Somewhere in the middle of it she came.

When she opened her eyes and picked herself up from her knees, she looked around. JP was standing beside her, smirking and erect. “H-how many was that, sir?”

He walked behind her; she could feel his finger tracing across the marks there, and her body cried out in delight as someone’s hand touched her proof of obedience. “Thirty-four.”

$34,000—money well spent on the best orgasm of her life. “Thank you, sir.”

She felt his hardness press against the crack of her ass, and wriggled herself against it.

“Get on the bed.” Joy practically leapt to obey, diving forward onto his firm mattress, positioning herself on all fours.

He came up alongside her, reaching out to squeeze one of her dangling tits firmly. “How much did these cost?”

“Um, just over $20,000, sir,” she said after a brief struggle to think through the haze of wanton need.

“Roll over. For that much, they should be seen when you’re being fucked, right?”

She rolled onto her back quickly. Cole eyed his prize lustfully as she panted for his dick. He climbed into his bed and positioned himself over her. His cock lay across her clit, mere inches from where she so desperately needed it.

She looked up at him, his bulgy, stout, hairy body. She’d never been fucked by so humble-looking a man before. And she’d never been more aroused in her life.

“Just one last thing I need from you, Joy.”

“Oh, anything, sir! Please!” She squeezed her own tits for his amusement.

He teased her a little with his cock head and she mewed with need. “I’ve been recording this whole thing, since you came into the bedroom.”

“You WHAT?!” she shrieked. She looked around, and there it was, his cell phone sitting on the dresser, pointed right at them.

“Now I can get good money for this video, but I need your permission to sell it.”

“No way! Never! You fucking asshole bastard!” Ugh, it was so hard to be mad when she was this horny! She didn’t even try to close her legs or cover herself.

“All right then,” he said, and rolled off of her onto his back. “No sex for you.”

“No sex... but...!” She wanted to cry. She needed it like a drowning woman needed air. She really felt like she might have some kind of breakdown if he didn’t fuck her. But to have everyone see her...! Stripping, begging to be spanked, getting fucked like a slut! (By middle management!) It would get out, and everyone who knew her would see her naked, know what a horny little bitch she’d been tonight.

But what choice did she have if she wanted to get fucked? And she did want it. More than anything. More than she wanted her dignity.

“Fine, sell the goddamn film,” she grumbled. “Just...” She leaned over and whispered something in his ear.

He chuckled, and moved back into position over her. “You got it.”

Cole, with mind-numbing slowness, slid his cock into her gushing pussy. It felt perfect. It was what she’d waited her entire life for without knowing it. Then he said the words she’d asked him to say. “Joy, you love being a slut for me. Everything I want you to do, you won’t just obey—you’ll love obeying.”

With a sigh, all the tension flooded out of her. He wanted to sell her as pornography. That was wonderful. She was a big slut and loved having guys jack off while they thought about her. Now they’d have something to look at too! She’d just been extorted out of more than $50,000 so he’d fucked her. What a great idea! She beamed up at him delightedly as he slammed her little pussy with all the pent-up need he himself had been building up over the evening. He was a good man, and he deserved this.

The unlikely duo fucked into the night, and were still fucking when the sun came up that magical Christmas morning. As she collapsed beside him and wrapped a slender leg and arm over his bulk, neither could believe the miracle that had happened. The good little boy had spread Joy for the world, and the naughty girl had received her lumpy Cole.