The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Dawn Rhodes — Wednesday, July 22nd, 2015

I was embarrassed by the “Snarf! Gargle! Blegh!” sounds I had made. Eden didn’t even apologize for hitting that pothole. Worse, Matt liked it. His fingers knitted under my hair as I struggled to swallow his erupting cum. It was thin and lighter, but he had fucked my cunt, Kendra’s asshole and Robin’s tits earlier today. No Melody. No Sara. Was it wrong to be impressed? Proud?

“She’s going to need to fix her hair and makeup,” Eden warned him, me. I licked around his cockhead as he deflated. I made a show of swallowing. He kissed my forehead and let me up.

“That’s fine,” Matt brushed my hair back. I didn’t wear it at all complicated. Wash it. Brush it. Leave it. I had fair brown hair that hung blandly straight. Eden fought for hers to sit like mine did. Bitch. I laughed.

“I was planning on dropping the two of you off at the service entrance and then finding somewhere to park,” Eden worried, “But then you had to go Matthew on her.”

“In her,” He chuckled and rubbed my cheek, “Less messy.”

“Problem solved, yes,” Eden shook her head slightly. She was driving slowly, clearly uncomfortable with the big van. Especially because she needed to use the wing mirrors to look back. I hadn’t driven since high school, and only with a learner’s permit I had never graduated from. I should learn. I wouldn’t be a burden.

“I wasn’t wearing much makeup anyways,” I assured Matt. It had been at Robin’s insistence. Her business, her standards. Matt’s standards were less professional. It wasn’t that I didn’t like makeup. I looked good with the little peach lip gloss I had put on and the splash of blue along my eyelids; I just wasn’t used to it. I didn’t wear it for work. I hardly went out. I—Courtney would teach me. She’d love it and I’d hate it. I was certain of that. Who else could I ask though? Anyone maybe. Janine? I hoped not.

“OK, well,” Eden pulled over to the curb, “Let’s get you fixed up and I’ll run you over.”

She unbuckled and rolled around the driver’s seat. Matt was sitting giddily in the little side chair. Our cargo, two blue boxes with plastic windows and one paper bag stapled shut, sat in a plastic cooler secured under a metal table. Eden, Matthew and I were dressed in our uniforms. Blue button up shirts, with a four buttons undone among us. Matthew in pristine white pants. Eden and I wore tight skirts, also white, a couple of inches over our knees. We all wore white shoes too. Eden and I had agreed at her insistence on ankle socks. I guess it was still the street rat in me but I liked thicker socks. Matthew folded his cock back into his striped boxers and tightened his new white belt closed. He brushed back his hair. I was kneeling on a floor mat and when I rose up. Eden tsked at the bit of dirt on my knees.

“You look worse for wear than she does,” Eden took his hands away and ran her fingers through his hair to straighten him out, “Dawn, wipe your mouth off and reapply. You should be fine.”

“OK,” I was surprised really. I didn’t know I could give a functional blowjob without tears running down my cheeks. Score one for our heroine. I grabbed Eden’s purse first. I should carry tissues with me. I wetnapped off my knees and got myself made up as Eden shook her head.

“That’s the best I can do,” She mumbled.

“I do love your best,” Matt grinned cheesily and they kissed, lightly. She brushed something off of Matt’s shoulder and returned to the driver seat, “Please buckle up, Dawn.”

Eden drove more swiftly now that I had a seatbelt. Matt squeezed my fingers as we pulled up to the side entrance of the club. I unbuckled before we had come to a stop and avoided Eden’s glare in the rearview. I grabbed the boxes while Matt leaned into the front and kissed Eden under the ear, “Thanks for the ride, babe.”

Matt took the boxes from me while I carried the bag. I could smell the hot pastries in the bag as I stepped out into the warm Halifax night. The sun was technically still setting, night enough for me.

The Upstairs was a club, downtownish. There was the main door, swarming with college aged kids and slightly older people, that recessed into a brick wall next to an organic looking smoothie place and a side door with a metal plaque further down. A pink haired girl was bouncing a clipboard off her thigh as she talked around a cigarette at a bunch of drunks she wasn’t letting in. They were finally giving in, walking past us, when the one girl in their group shouted and ditched them.

“Matt!” Her cheerish scream had turned my head. Her friends seemed happy to abandon her for the slow flow at the front doors. She was a cute girl, in a sluttish red dress and uncomfortable shoes. Matt laughed as he was bowled over, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Hi, Cammy,” He laughed and accepted a hug. I hadn’t closed the van door yet and when I turned to Eden she was rolling her eyes and digging through her purse. She handed me a six pack of Forefront slap bracelets. It was going to be that kind of night, wasn’t it? Eden tilted her head and I swung the side door closed.

Cammy had no rings on any of her fingers. Rules. Yeah right. She was slipping back from her hug, which was horribly awkward seeing how Matt hadn’t put down his boxes. The balancing act disentanglement was ridiculous. Opportunity for me though, I got the perfect crack onto her left wrist.

“Whoa!” She laughed and giggled. Matt looked at me shocked. Really? I mean, there was this girl, older than me, maybe older than Eden. Mid twenties is what I’m saying. Anyway, green eyes, brown hair, big tits, and a huge laughing smile. She wasn’t Tiffany skinny, who was? OK, Melody, Phoebe, Sara, fuck off. But Cammy wasn’t Robin thick either. Just a cutie.

“Hi, I’m Camille,” She grinned, “You work with my cousin, Matt?”

“Oh!” I yelped in four syllables. I tried to look contrite. Eden pulled away behind me. Cunt, “No, I—I work for Matt.”

“For?” She grinned, and jabbed her cousin in the pectoral with one finger, “Hey, give me a job.”

“I guess,” He shrugged. Looking to me like I just drowned his puppy. What were the chances that she’d be his cousin? Didn’t his family live out of the city anyways? Wait, Eden said something about a cousin on her slave date. I smiled mostly by looking like I had stepped on a nail. Matt shrugged and forgave me. Rules. Yeah right.

“Ha! As if,” Camille laughed, “Anyway, I’ve better get back in line. The show is going to be crazy. I caught them last time and—”

“Come on, Cammy,” He was certain that his boxes were good, “I’ll see if I can get you backstage.”

“You can’t unless you’re on the list,” There was the clipboard girl, a woman, Matt’s age, early thirties, smoking at the service entrance. She had already turned away Camille and her friends who were now inside. Wow, quick to ditch her, huh? Clipboard was tall, thin and dressed in a short skirt and apron. She had on a black tank top and a push-up bra that was really trying her best to get her tips. She didn’t have a lot to work with. Her vibrant pink hair was puffing out of a high ponytail. She took another drag from between livid red lipstick and her blue eyes popped under eyeshadow, “Who the fuck are you thinking you get in anyways?”

“Babybird Bakery,” I announced.

“Says Forefront Foundation,” Camille read her wrist. Matt shook his head.

“She said you work for him,” The smoker laughed, “Babybird is owned by a rather forceful black woman. You don’t fit that bill, Matt.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” Matt scratched his hair, “See the thing is—”

“Robin owns the bakery. Matt owns the caterers.” I interjected because Matt was going to ramble for about six minutes before he could say that.

“Yeah,” He nodded. I figured I’d have gotten a squeeze for that, if he hadn’t been carrying these fluffy maple filled things covered in like a caramelized syrup. I’d fuck Robin, that’s what I’m saying.

“So those are for the band?” Pinkie frowned. She turned the knob and swung the door outward, “They’re in the room with the gold circle on the door.”

Matt gestured with his head to Camille to follow but the girl at the door put her hand up to stop her.

“Why are you swinging those at people?” I had missed. Pinkie almost snarled at me.

“They’re—” I put my hand on Matt’s shoulder to let me explain.

“We’re doing a fundraiser thing,” I hurried, “Forefront is—”

“A charity for women’s scholarships,” Pinkie cut me off, “Don’t ambush me.” She raised her wrist and I saw Matt nod. I eagerly swung this one down, “I got my first year books paid for by them years ago. Still, she can’t come in.”

“Oh,” Camille frowned. She was looking back to the front door and seemed to notice her clique was gone. I was going to miss out on her punching someone.

“Sure she can,” Matt explained. The pink haired girl pulled her hand back from Camille in shock, “Hey,” He slipped one of his cards into Pinkie’s apron, “I’m Matt, by the way.”

“Giulia,” She lifted a little nametag out of another pocket, “With a G.”

“Ick, I can imagine how often people misspelled your name,” He laughed. Giulia shrugged.

“Meghan goes apeshit over that, doesn’t she?” Camille grinned and hurried in.

“She used to,” Matt gestured me inside, “If a black woman dressed like us comes looking for us, send her in.”

“One of the bouncers will be back from the pisser soon to relieve me,” Giulia frowned.

“Tell him then,” Matt rolled his eyes and stepped past her. We entered a wide hallway in time to see a trio of two fat guys and a skinny girl going out onto the stage.

“Oh shit, are we late?” I worried turning to Matt. He looked cross-eyed at me. Camille laughed.

“Those are the opening act,” She rebuked me, “Where’d you find her?”

“On the street,” He laughed. I went red, but strove to diffuse the anger. Camille patted my shoulder while Matt whispered something to her.

“Hey, you do your thing, I’m going to watch the openers! I’ve never been backstage before.” Camille gurgled. Matt jumped when she slapped his ass, “Thanks dude.”

“Enjoy,” Matt smiled and Camille went ahead to the curtains. There were no speakers back here but the sound from the bar was kinda loud anyways. The girl on stage shouted something about being, “Suicide Recluse.”

“She doesn’t want to come see the band with us?” I watched Camille walk up to some roadie and begin weaving to the opening song.

“I may have pushed her along,” He smirked at me, “We’re trying for a different vibe than a girl in a party dress.”

He knocked on the gold circle door. There was another door, with a silver circle that hung open right next to it. Matt touched my wrist, I was still holding a bunch of slap bands and hurriedly shoved them in the back of my skirt’s waistband. The door opened a second later. Drowning Miranda smelled of weed. Matt seemed happy to see them and I had no fucking clue. I felt bad.

“Hey.” Said a dude with a bald head and a suit jacket and loose tie over a ripped up t-shirt and jeans. His eyebrows, nose and ears were a constellation of steel rings, “Thank fuck! I can smell it already.”

“Yeah, Robin pulled it out of the oven less than twenty minutes ago,” Matt gestured with the boxes. He was relieved of them immediately.

“Those the fucking pastries?” A gravelly voice exclaimed, “Man I fucking love this hellhole of a city. That’d be the worst part about getting too big to play The Maritimes.”

“Hi,” I tried to smile as the second guy, in a plain white wife beater and heavy jeans took the bag out of my hands.

“Yeah, well, we do great work,” Matt slipped a card from his case. He fucking loved showing that thing off, “You mind mentioning that to the crowd sometime during your set?”

“Sure buddy,” Said tie and jacket, “If I wasn’t fucking starving, I’d eat one of the turnovers on stage.”

“You’re good man,” Matt grinned.

“And thorough,” And they closed the door in our faces. I looked up to Matt.

“Are we leaving?” I think he had planned to but some massive guy had exited the back door and Pinkie was coming back in. Matt grinned at me and walked up to wear his cousin. Camille was full of energy. You could call it dancing, if you had no respect for dancing. He hadn’t said anything about her to me. Would he? It didn’t seem worth the mental suffering to expect the other shoe to drop. He didn’t even seem pissed. I thought about Pinkie. Maybe Giulia made up for it? She was hot. I looked back to the door.

The pink haired girl was using her cell phone as a compact mirror. She had pulled out her ponytail and was waving the vibrant cascade onto her shoulders.

“Hey, Matt’s terrible,” Camille grabbed my hand and pulled me up her, “Dance.”

On Matt’s nod, I moved with Camille. It could’ve been fun. Matt enjoyed watching me, or worse, us. The music was bad, stale, unimaginative. These guys didn’t have too much energy. The crowd seemed to be suffering through the set. I tried, but wow, I didn’t care to.

“Hey,” Camille frowned and turned from me back to Matt, “Did you meet the guys? They’re fucking awesome!”

“More Meghan’s style than mine,” He replied, “I think my plan worked out though. We’ll see.”

“You need to stop being an old man. Have you listened to anything new since Nirvana? Have you heard of the twenty-first century?” She grinned.

“The Foo Fighters,” He smirked and she frowned her lips tightly together. He poked her. Giulia wove past us and headed for a staff door further down. Matt watched her butt, “She’s hot.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, figuring a you’re welcome would be weird to say if he wasn’t going to make Camille Aware.

“What do you think of her?” Matt looked to Camille.

“She can sing way better than the boys can play,” She giggled, “Hot though.”

I looked past her to the girl on stage. Suicide Recluse, band names are odd. She was wearing a shiny vinyl dress. Her hair was a bright electric blue mohawk sloping over the side of her skull and over her ears. She was white. Like milk white. Like Hitler’s erection white. Three spikes stuck out from under her pale lips. Her eyes were like a shadowed dark version of her hair. Another Tiffany skinny chick.

“Hey, you got enough bracelets for the band?” He brushed my hair back to whisper to me, “I don’t feel like running home right away.”

“The whole band? You want the guys too?” I contorted my face in confusion.

“I just don’t want a scene afterwards,” He grinned.

“Yeah, I’ve got enough.” And one to spare.

“Cool,” He grinned.

The sound was deadened a bit in the back corridor. Still, it was hard to hear our whispers back and forth. Camille definitely didn’t notice. Eden made me jump when she touched our backs.

“We done?” She hoped. Poor girl. This is Matt. I had to stop smirking to myself. I passed her two of the slap bracelets. She looked out and shrugged sadly. Matt was oblivious. He was touching himself. Camille smirked and looked back to us with an eyeroll.

“Hey, can I stay out and watch the main show from here?” Camille pleaded to Matt as Suicide Recluse finished up their last song. With a pleading “Find us on iTunes!” They bowed away from an unenthused crowd.

“Maybe,” Matt rubbed Camille’s shoulder, “Will you want a ride home?”

“Oh my God, yes please!” She grabbed Matt’s hand, “If you’re staying.”

“We’ll be here a while,” He grinned, then I saw his excitement. Suicide Recluse was approaching and there was a silver flash on the singer’s tongue. Had he spotted that. He elbowed me, “Hey, great set, guys.”

“Thanks,” Gruffed the drummer, he was a fat dude with white dreadlocks. He really appreciated my tits. I got elbowed again.

“Well, we’ve done better,” Said the singer.

“I should hope so,” I burnt red for being such a cunt, “Sorry, but—”

“No worries,” Said the guitarist, “I mean, sometimes the crowd’s against you. Who the fuck are you guys?”

“He’s my cousin,” Camille grinned. Matt and the drummer shook their heads.

“We’re caterers, we brought over some stuff for the band,” I explained.

“I just want beer,” Sighed the drummer, “Nice to meet you guys.”

The third elbow was kind of pushing it.

“Dawn here’s starting school in September,” No I wasn’t Matt. Franklin said he’d put me through culinary work. Did I need schooling for that or could I just go for a red seal? “She’s got some project for a scholarship. Do you mind if we get a picture?”

“Why’d she need a picture?” Asked the singer as the two guys announced their yeses and moved to flank me.

“The bracelets, Dawn?” OK, I get it. I pulled them out and blue haired looked at Camille.

“Why is she wearing one?”

“Easy target,” I admitted. Camille grinned.

“So a picture with the bracelets on?” The drummer took them from Dawn and smacked one around the singer. She yelped.

“Hey guys,” We turned to see Drowning Miranda coming out, “How’s the crowd?”

“Ready to pop,” Claimed the guitarist.

“Sweet,” Bald guy slapped his hand on Matt’s shoulder, “You sir are a gentleman.”

Snap! The drummer clapped one of the bracelets onto the bald guy.

“Go out, do your show, be a rock star,” Matt hurried.

“Will do,” He zombied. Fuck! Crap. He moved on as the drummer grabbed Suicide Recluse’s guitarist’s hand. Another snap. Another pair of dead eyes.

“Drowning Miranda!” I heard Giulia’s voice shout out. We hurried aside as the headliners went out on stage.

“I’m going to stay and watch,” Camille told us. Giulia was coming back through the curtain as that second guy who took the pastries from me shouted out a hello to Halifax.

“You guys getting drinks?” Giulia asked the band, ignoring us.

“Yeah, I want—” And the drummer went vapid as his bracelet circled around his own wrist.

“Sean?” Said blue haired. Matt leaned into her as the music started. Drowning Miranda was opening to the crowd like ripping the cord on a chainsaw. I felt the bass tickle my bones, “Propeller Russian Stout, Hefeweizen for Yuri and a vodka lime for me.”

Matt’s hand settled on the small of her back.

“Bring enough for a party,” The blue haired singer declared. The pink haired girl looked at Matt. Camille looked at Matt. Sean and Yuri looked at Matt.

“Matthew,” Eden called Matt’s attention.

“Enjoy the concert, Cammy,” Matt squeezed his cousin’s shoulder and Giulia headed off towards a service door. I hung back as Matt corralled Suicide Recluse into the second dressing room. Camille gaped and grabbed my hand.

“C’mon, it’ll be more fun out here,” She grinned.

“I doubt it,” I believed her. I grinned more. She shrugged and weaved back to watch the music.

I entered the dressing room last. It was basically two couches, a vanity and a doorless closet. Sean and Yuri were sitting on a couch and staring blandly forward.

“What the hell is with them?” Blue haired was asking.

“Leave ’em, they’re out of it for now,” Matt grabbed her to him by shoving his fingers down the front of her dress, “You’re hot.”

“You’re old,” She worried.

“Ha!” Snarked Eden, “You look like the kind of whore that’s had older.”

“What?” Blue haired frowned. I crossed over next to Eden, “Why are you two taking your clothes off?”

We were, I had been unbuttoning my top since the door had closed behind us. Eden tossed her shirt towards the vanity. She wore a white tank top underneath. And that was sailing through the air a moment later. Eden has a great body. I frowned as I threw away my little bra.

“Hey,” Matt lived the singer’s chin with his free hand and looked her in the eye, “You guys ever fuck?”

“I gets revved up after a good show,” She worried.

“So, no is what you’re saying,” Eden was such a bitch. I should’ve been taking notes.

“No, what—” She almost flinched back as Matt pulled her shoulder straps off of her shoulders. Her dress looked like it had been poured over her body and let cool than anything else. The tight rubber had shown off her little waist but it had flattened her tits too. Eden and I looked small next to this bitch once Matt dragged her dress down. She looked about.

“What’s your name?” He asked, leaving her to wiggle the dress down her hips and over her fishnet stockings. He grabbed her tits, almost surprised to find no tattoos on her skin or more piercings on her way pale skin. Fair skin, pale sounds sickly and she was just clear skin all the way down. Her bush, the little she had, was visible through her black panties. She was a light brunette.

“Geri—Geraldine,” She twisted herself as the dress fell to her stage boots. She had fucking platforms on and she was only nose to nose with me. Matt seemed to like women he could fit six of in a trunk. Except for Carmen, or Robin, or Zina, or—Shut up, brain.

“That’s hideous!” Eden frowned.

“I use the stage name, Nymph Romero,” Geri scowled her face up.

“That’s what we’ll call you then,” Matt grinned and the name Geri just sort of smoked out of our skulls.

“Romero?” I turned to Eden but the drummer on the couch replied.

“Night of The Living Dead,” He told me. I shrugged away from him, disgusted. There was something just wrong about a man in a bracelet.

“Suck his cock, Nymph,” I growled, “I wanna get fucked.”

“There’s my girl,” Matt grabbed my hair and dragged me against him. Eden had Nymph’s head by the blue dreadlocks and slammed her face into Matt’s crush. I looked up, enough to make him kiss me, enough to make me close my eyes. I didn’t have to see the two watching us.

“Holy shit,” Nymph babbled as Eden helped her to kneel on the ground. Matt let the pair of them join together. Two pairs of lips on a dick. I hadn’t even seen that in porn. I hadn’t seen much porn. A couple of Batman parodies really. The one that’s all 1960s Adam West is my favorite. Matt slipped apart our kiss.

“She doesn’t seem to be setting you off,” Eden moaned. Matt was semi hard, but he wasn’t raring to go. He reached down and grabbed Nymph’s tongue.

“Hey,” He narrowed his eyes as she widened, “You’re mine. What’s yours is mine.”

“Uh huh,” She tried to answer and nod but he tightened his fingers on her tongue and she winced.

“This is mine,” He ran his finger over the barbell in her tongue. Then he let Eden take Nymph’s head in both hands. Matt phoenixed full up in Nymph’s mouth. He laughed and kissed me again.

“You’re first?” He shoved me to the empty couch. Eden stood up and picked open his shirt while Nymph quietly pulled Matt out of his shoes and pants.

“You don’t want the new girl first?” Eden asked.

“You test her out,” He grinned as he climbed over me.

“You eat pussy?” I heard Eden but couldn’t see whether Nymph nodded or shook her head. Eden didn’t follow up. I closed my eyes as Matt stabbed his cock into me. I was wet. I flooded when he wanted me. I couldn’t help myself or imagine not being ready. I put that on the bracelet on my wrist. Eden flopped backwards onto the couch. She grabbed Matt’s hand that was pushing in the couch cushion next to my head.

We fucked, fiery and hard and I let myself scream. What a fucking day! I giggled as he kissed against the front of my throat. He squeezed my tit hard. He just hammered into me.

“I’m next,” Eden declared with a wheeze as she dragged Nymph by her ears between squeezing thighs. I had been there before, ears ringing as Eden was embarrassed about the girl girl stuff. She vice gripped your skull.

I wailed. Matt likes the noise to match the size of the fuck. I liked it too. It wasn’t performing as it was amplification. Screaming made me a screamer. Moaning made me a moaner. Jackhammering made me smashed asphalt. He was ruthless on my pussy and I spasmed quickly. He grunted like a caveman and I adored it. He spurted quickly anyways. He pulled back and I wanted more.

“Hey,” Eden stroked my cheek and her fingers slid down to the spotted mess of my thighs. Matt was dragging Nymph back to rinse his cock against her tongue stud. Hard again, the singer was pushed aside and Eden growled to be filled.

I could feel the music going on out in the club. The bass vibrating my bones even as the lyrics failed to penetrate the concrete walls. I grabbed Eden’s fingers, now spasming and useless in between my legs, and humped the back of her knuckles.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Matt was just showing off. Nymph knelt behind his ass and looked at her bandmates. Giulia passed behind her putting drinks on the vanity and looking fearfully at the two boys on the next couch. Nymph shushed and motioned for Giulia to go. Yeah, run, fingers crossed he forgets about you. I grabbed for Nymph’s shoulders and she looked at me.

“Get over here,” Despite her dodging my fingers, she knee walked in between my knees. We crave each other, even the girls we can’t stand. Instead of wanting to claw her eye out, we’d rather tongue her brains out. I was OK with that right now. I thrashed on Nymph’s immediate touch. A tongue stud energizes Matt. Any cock I guess. It’s way different on my clit. I wake up, as if all the hazy, fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me, overload is laser focused into each tentative lick. Sara at least gets right in there. I hoped Melody was better than Nymph.

Matt turned his head as Giulia closed the door behind her. We couldn’t really hear the door, just the change in muffle of the music in the bar. I held my breath, was he going to chase her down. I couldn’t concentrate that hard, even with Nymph’s boring ass attempts at lesbianism. Eden course corrected and saved the orgy.

“Cum baby,” Eden was begging Matt already. Jesus, he was a spitfire tonight. He shook and squeezed her and dragged himself back. I put my hand on Nymph’s forehead and thrust her back for Matt’s revival.

“Is it my turn?” She hoped, worried and expected.

“I’d kill for another go,” I scrambled out of the couch and stepped over Nymph’s head. I think Eden dragged her out from under me and onto the cushions. They could’ve made out or she could’ve mounted the singer’s tongue again. I hardly cared nor noticed they were alive. Matt’s hands were sweaty as he cupped my ass and I put my elbows up on each of his shoulders and lifted myself on top of him.

His cock split me and I hardly even saw the black painted door swing open and be filled with a swath of red.

“Jesus Christ Matt!” Camille grinned from the doorway, “Is that your dick?”

He might’ve had enough trouble holding me up just to fuck. I started, he flinched. He slipped, adjusting his foot in surprise, Nymph’s rubber dress skated under his heel. I crashed down right onto his belly as he screamed out the most agonizing “Fucking Jesus Christ!” I had heard in my life.

“Matt,” I grabbed his face.

“Oh,” He shoved me off of him, “My fucking back...”