The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

In her riverside office in Barnes, overlooking the River Thames, power dressing Barbara Fawcett looked every inch the London film studio boss she was. Even if the 50 something media mogul’s status was diminished to almost zero these days, still nobody would dare call the tall, dominant, busty brunet a MILF, at least certainly not to her face.

As she watched some rowers go past on the river, possibly an Oxford or Cambridge crew practising she guessed, Barbara was confused about the next appointment in her diary. It read ‘2.30, Bill Master, Orpington Studios, proposal for new Carry On film’. Honestly, she didn’t know what her PA was thinking. She’d have to have a word with the poor girl. So unlike her usually reliable, dependable self.

“I’m afraid you’ve had a wasted journey Bill” she told the imposing Black Man about her own age, who walked into her office. “If I had a Pound for every proposal to revive the Carry On franchise, my families’ BnW Studios wouldn’t be the broke film facility you see today. But that era of inuendo is well and truly ed, even before the internet came along. I’ve learnt the hard way, there is no point trying to flog a dead horse. These days, my PA is meant to be under strict instructions to simply turn down all such meetings. I’m not sure how she let you get through the net to be honest.”

“That was probably my fault Barbara” Bill replied smoothly, seemingly unconcerned by the studio boss’s blunt rebuff. “You see I showed her some of our draft script, and the young thing became really quite excited. Very keen to let me slip into any of several openings she offered. And as I am here now anyway, perhaps if you took a look yourself, you might feel the same way” he added, offering Barbara a funny little tablet displaying text on a flickering screen.

Barbara’s grandfather had built the first film studios at Barnes to start making movies before the War. But after the War, it was her father and uncle, Peter and Gerald, who had really built the business, and then, striking gold with their Carry On films, opened the bigger sound stages in Wimbledon to meet demand.

Carry On had been a uniquely British culture phenomenon. A reaction to the repressive English film censorship of that time, absent in the rest of Europe, where comedy smut and innuendo was a substitute for the more explicit sexual content seen aboard. It created a host of still much-loved stars, but that golden heyday had already faded by the time Barbara was a child, and English post-war censorship had become more relaxed. Despite all her late father’s stories of the glory days, it felt to Barbara like all she had ever known was the slow decline of the family’s BnW Studios. That, and the endless, almost weekly, approaches from unrealistic, rosy-eyed, nostalgic dreamers, who thought the Carry On franchise still had a future.

She understood the appeal. She had felt it herself, when, as a bright eyed 20 something, she had taken over running the family business. Back then, Barbara too had been swept up in the enthusiasm of a new wave of young comedians determined to make Carry on Columbus.

The new film had even been acceptably successful, not a total disaster, but it did become crystal clear to her, as Executive Producer, that in an age of internet porn, the old nudge, nudge, wink, wink format of Carry On was well and truly over. A few years later, Barbara canned pre-production on the moted sequel, Carry on London, and within a few years of that, had stopped taking any more meetings about the franchise entirely.

Carry On had been both her family’s blessing and its curse. A bright star that had faded as society changed. She envied the Broccoli family who produced James Bond. They could reinvent their film franchise with the times, and still milk it with Disney and other streaming services. Her grandfather’s legacy would ultimately be only in the real estate value of their families’ Barnes and Wimbledon studio sites, eventually sold off to housing developers no doubt, rather than in a thriving movie business.

Barbara looked up from the funny little tablet, straight into the captivating blue eyes of Bill Master, before her gaze was dragged, like a magnet, to the huge bulge in his crotch. Her mind swirled in foggy confusion, disconcerted by a feeling a lot more time had ed than that ed for by her quick glance down at the digital draft script.

Yes, the script. She couldn’t seem to specifics now, but she was suddenly ridiculously excited by the prospect of the new Carry On film. It was nostalgic nonsense of course, and yet, she wasn’t just excited, she was positively turned on by the idea. My god, she was actually wet.

Since her divorce nearly ten years ago now, sex had been pretty much off the agenda for Barbara, by choice. Despite her obvious MILF status, she threw herself into managing the decline of BnW Studios instead. Yet suddenly here she was, inexplicably feeling like a silly, giggly, horny girl, desperate to play with her wet pussy.

“Erm… Bill… look… I’m sorry… but…” Barbara started, trying to pull herself together, tearing her gaze from the obvious outline of his Big Black Cock.

“Barabra, I know it’s a lot for your mind to process right now” he smoothly interrupted her confused stammering. “And you’ve probably not even heard of my Orpington Studios before today, because we mostly work in the niche stream on demand market. But there is no need to decide on the spot.”

“I’ll leave you with a copy of my proposal to think about overnight” he continued, ing her a sheaf of contract papers. “Then why don’t you come and see my Orpington Studios for yourself tomorrow. I’ll send over a limo to collect you in the morning.”

Against her better judgment, Barbara found herself meekly nodding in agreement. She wondered why. But she had more pressing immediate needs to take care of as Bill Master left her office. She quickly slipped into the executive bathroom, fingers in her wet pussy bringing herself to the urgent climax she desperately needed.

Later, she had to laugh at the whole absurd thing. Not least because Bill’s proposed contract was ludicrously unacceptable. It wasn’t just to make the new Carry On film, but a wholesale takeover of the family’s franchise and their BnW Studios as well, all for a token £1 fee. There was no way she would sell out the grandchildren’s inheritance like that. And to add insult to injury, Master would usurp her as the film’s Producer, demoting Barbara to merely Assistant Producer under him. In fact, the only part of the crazy proposal Barbara found remotely intriguing, was the offer of a role for her in the new film, as a sexy, busty MILF.

For some reason, at home that night, Barbara dug out the forgotten vibrator at the back of her bedside draw. She couldn’t think why she was suddenly so horny. She found herself sleeping fitfully, dreaming about the thrill of a new Carry On film, that big bulge in Master’s tros, and the excitement of becoming a sexy Carry On star herself. A MILF sex symbol, the hottest men masturbating at the thought of her, their Big Black Cocks shooting cum all over her bimbo tits.

The Orpington Studio’s limo arrived for her as promised the next morning. Feeling an unusual lightness of mood, Barbara had eschewed her usual power dressing tro suite in favour of a tight, low-cut blouse, better to show off her ample cleavage, and an above the knee skirt, better to show off her ankle booted long legs.

iring herself in the mirror, Barbara felt the look more appropriately channelled the 1960s Carry On dolly bird sex bomb stereotype. After all, if she was going to be a modern Carry On star herself, she ought to look the part. Not that she was going to be frittering away her grandchildren’s inheritance on a new Carry On film of course.

Barbara felt a fresh flush of excitement on seeing the limo driver was one of the fit young Black refugees that Orpington Studios exclusively gave job opportunities to. He was all manly muscles and dominating strength. Getting into the limo, she realised her nipples were hard and erect, prominently visible through her blouse. God, and her pussy was wet again too, as they started to drive through the south London streets. Barbara daydreamed about pulling into a layby and being fucked senseless by the driver’s Big Black Cock.

Inside the back of the limo, as she fantasied, there was inoffensive, swirling background music gently playing, just loud enough to leave Barbara unaware of the small hiss of hypnotic gas slowly being released. It was warm too, and very quickly she nodded off.

Only the be jolted awake again as the limo ed over a speed hump that marked the entrance to the nondescript industrial estate where Orpington Studios was located, in an equally anonymous looking warehouse. Nothing like the workshops and sound stages of her Wimbledon Studios.

Inside was totally different too, as if some mad carpenter had thrown up a life-size rat maze of large plywood cubicle spaces, from what she saw of it, before being ushered into Bill Master’s office. There were none of the usual sounds of buzzing productions either, although it was still early. Just a weird moan or cry once or twice.

“Ah Babs, so glad you could come and see us” Master said, leaving her oddly split between taking offense at his casual bimbofication of her name, and horniness at the compliment, even as her traitorous eyes locked firmly ono that bulge in his pants. The horniness won out, nipples quickly erect in her blouse again, and her pussy even wetter, oh so shockingly wet. She realised she was staring at his bulge, licking her lips, but she couldn’t stop herself.

“I… erm… that is…” Barbara tried desperately to pull herself together, to act like the movie mogul she was. “The script… yes… the script… I’m keen to see more” she managed to stammer clinging to firmer familiar ground. “Of course you are” Master replied with a knowing smile. “Better kneel then and take it all in” he added, reaching for his zip.

Babs found herself kneeling obediently, without understanding why. It was as if her legs were acting independently. But she had no time to worry about it, because the full script in front of her face looked amazing. It was large and so well developed. Something meaty she could really get her mouth around. An oral delight. She savoured every page, every vein, its heady musk, eventually taking in every inch of it.

Of course, any film is only as good as its ending, a finale that leaves the audience wanting more. As her tongue ran over the words, she could feel this Big Black script reaching an exciting climax. Anticipation building and building towards the ending she needed, until finally it delivered a huge, hot, happy ending deep inside her soul, filling Babs with utter joy.

“Thank you, Bill” she said looking up at his commanding presence over her. “Call me Master” he told her, placing a copy of the merger deal and film contract on his desk, as she stood up, wiping the last drops of superior Black Cum from her face.

There was no doubt left in Babs mind that she wouldn’t sign her Master’s contract. “As my Assistant Producer, as well as acting in the film, there will be long hours working under me” Master told her. Babs felt a rush of excitement at the prospect of being under him, of getting her mouth around that film script, of sucking Master’s Big Black Cock on a daily basis, as she signed on the dotted line.

Sure, the grandkids might be angry at first, but they would come to understand in time. This new Carry On film would show their generation how the world was changing. The newly merged BnWO Studios was their future.

After the g, Master showed Babs around his Orpington Studios complex. “I’ve got in mind one or two of our biggest stars for some of the film’s roles” he told his Assistant Producer MILF, “and would love to get your opinion. There might even be time for a quick screen test for your own part too.”

Intrigued, Babs could immediately see what Master had meant by Orpington Studio’s ‘stream on demand’ services. It was basically an online porn studio, a webcam in each little wooden cubicle where actors would perform. “I like to think of us as more of a social enterprise than a business” Master continued. “We give employment opportunities exclusively to newly arrived refugees, from actors to engineers, they man the whole show. With a little help of course from a few of Orpington’s finest young white snowbunny sluts” he chuckled.

It was still a bit too early for many of the little webcam studios to be in use, but in the first occupied cubicle they walked past, Babs saw a young Black Master thrusting his Big Black Cock like a piston into the gaping pussy of a young, tattooed, snowbunny on all fours in front of him. The redhead was looking directly into the camera, begging the newly arrived refugee to shoot his Black Cum into her fertile womb, in her strong south London accent. And with each thrust of that huge superior Black Cock, and each moan of pleasure from the redhead slut, Babs found herself getting hornier and hornier again, her jealous cunt becoming wetter and wetter.

In another little studio, a dirty blonde, dressed as a slutty schoolgirl with pigtails, was performing solo, her legs open, as she pleasured herself with a Big Black dildo. While on a larger set, with a medical setting, a statuesque, amazonian Black transexual, with big tits and an even bigger cock, was dressed as a leather dominatrix doctor, complete with white coat and stethoscope. The shemale doctor was pounding the ass of a little loser white boi, who was strapped helplessly into a medical examination stirrup chair. The submissive sissy slut was total naked, except for being locked in a tiny pink chastity cage, from which pathetic watery juices were dripping profusely as he got fucked.

“We’re a proactive EDI employer too for sure” Master chuckled again, viewing the scene approvingly. “We better not disturb her at work, but this is Valeria, out top shemale dominatrix star. I have her in mind for the busty, intimidating Matron role.” Babs nodded, “Seems a perfect fit.”

ing by more empty cubicles, Babs could hear the loud moaning from the next occupied studio well before they reached it. The vision on the large circular bed amazed her. A platinum blonde bimbo sex doll, obviously the product of many surgeries, with classic huge porn star tits, plump ass and even plumper cock sucking lips, was being serviced from behind by two massive Big Black Cocks, one in her pussy, the other in her ass. Babs could only stare, transfixed in wonder and awe, as the bimbo loudly moaned and urged her virile Black lovers to fuck her harder.

“And this is Julie Williams, or Julie Juggs, as she is known now. Local girl made good. Our most popular actress” Master told Babs. “A modern-day Barbara Windsor if ever there was one.” Well, that was only true if the original famous Carry On star had been inflated to comic proportions with a bicycle pump, Babs thought, as the Big Black Cock in Julie’s ass pulled out, spraying thick ropes of superior Black Cum across the bimbo’s arched back.

Babs was denied the sight of the second Big Black Cock impregnating the fuckdoll’s pussy, by the arrival, walking down the little wooden corridor, on his way to start work, of a particularly tall, intimidating, muscular, tattooed Black Man, a decade or more younger that Bill Master. “Meet Jason, the studio’s biggest star in every sense of the word” Master said, turning to greet him, introducing Babs. “Of course, he just has to be in the movie, his fans would expect it.”

Eyes wide at the shear length and girth of the monster outlined in Jason’s sweatpants, Babs shock his strong hand, while wishing her hand was shaking something else of his entirely. Master chuckled at her all too obvious arousal, saying “Well, since you will be acting together, if you’ve got the time Jason, perhaps we could conduct your little screen test right now Babs?”

She felt excited butterflies in her stomach, mixed with horny anticipation, as Master’s reassuring hand guided her and Jason into a nearby cubicle with a large chaise longue covered in garish artificial pink furs. Master switched on a little tripod camera, instructing her to sit, with Jason stood beside her pulling down his pants. Her butterflies turned into nervous fear and worry that she would never be able to make that monster Big Black Cock fit without choking or breaking her. Then she thought of Julie Juggs moaning nearby, who surely must have performed with Jason and taken his superior cock. So, she guessed that where there was a will, there must be a way, as she gently kissed the tip, her tongue lapping around the heady, musky, mushroom head.

Her jaw quickly ached with the effort, but under Master’s direction, Babs carefully worshiped every inch of Jason’s massive Big Black Cock, until the younger Black God’s hands were on her head, skull fucking her with a depth and intensity she never would have thought possible.

So, by the time Master ordered her to take off her skirt and panties, and mount the huge shaft, the mindlessly fucktoy was unable to think of anything but obeying, regardless of how the massive Big Black Cock might tear her open. And despite some painful stretching at first, once fully impaled on her Black Bull, Babs felt only a euphoric joy and satisfaction.

It was as if the huge Big Black Cock was filling every inch of space inside her, leaving no room for any of the person Babs used to be, beyond an all-consuming need to worship her Black Masters.

When she finally hopped off the massive Big Black Cock dominating her, Babs obediently held up her white MILF breasts, so that Jason could cover them in think ropes of creamy Black Cum. “Perhaps we should call this new movie, Carry On Cuming Over My Tits” she giggled into the camera wantonly.

As the limo sped Babs back towards her Barnes office in the south London afternoon sunshine, she was excited by the thought of the work ahead, and especially the small army of refugees from Master’s Orpington Studios who would soon be working at the Wimbledon stages to prepare for filming.

So very excited, and horny again, that she had the young Black driver pull into a layby and fuck her needy cunt with his Big Black Cock. Yes, the new, combined BNWO Studios, was going to be a great success for sure.