The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The bell above the entrance jingled, and in walked the latest customer. He was a middle-aged guy, maybe early forties. Polo shirt tucked into khakis, hair slicked back, and rocking a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. Not the typical clientele who were just here to windowshop and the time, but not the intense hobbyist we made most of our money from. Might have even been his first time in a store like this.

“Welcome to Mind Mart!” Jenny chimed, as if summoned by the bell itself. She seemed to materialize out of thin air with that Stepford Wives cheerfulness of hers. Even in the bland, fluorescent lighting of the store, she looked relentlessly upbeat, her blonde hair styled in a perfect, bouncy bob. She rocked the blue store uniform with her perfectly flat stomach on display and her breasts almost too large for the mini-polo shirt top. Her smile was blindingly white and perfectly symmetrical, practically radiating forced enthusiasm.

“Looking for anything specific today, sir?” she asked, as if it were the most important thing in the world to her.

The guy blinked, momentarily stunned by Jenny’s sheer intensity. “Uh, yeah, I think so. I’m just… taking a look around for now.” He gestured vaguely, his eyes flicking around the store. Mind Mart wasn’t exactly subtle in its merchandising. The walls were painted a lurid, pulsating purple and decorated with posters promising “Total Compliance” and “Ultimate Pleasure.” Shelves were packed tight with products: chrome goggles glinting under spotlights, velvety bunnyear headbands displaying pulsing LEDs, vibrantly colored rings arranged in neat rows, sleek black wands resting on velvet cushions, and dozens and dozens of different models of pocket watches. Aside from the cold drinks near the entrance, everything here did the same damn thing.

“Certainly!” Jenny beamed, her breasts lifting slightly against the white and blue fabric as she gestured towards the product displays. She must have noticed the wedding band on his finger, because the next question she asked was, “We have a wonderful selection to cater to every need. Are you perhaps looking to add a little spark to your relationship, sir?” She managed to inflect the phrase with such innocent enthusiasm that you’d think she was offering a new brand of laundry detergent, not brainwashing equipment.

“I… uh, yeah. Something like that. Bedroom stuff,” he mumbled, his gaze darting between Jenny’s unsettling cheerfulness and my very best “fuck off” stare. He did a good job of hiding it, but I could tell it made him just a little uncomfortable. Good. “But I’m not really sure what I’m even looking for.” He ran a hand through his thinning hair.

“Well, you’ve come to the perfect place!” Jenny chirped again, clapping her hands. “We have everything you could possibly desire! Bimbo Bubblegum to bring a bit of laughter to the relationship,” she waved a manicured hand vaguely, “Sluttifying rayguns for encouraging a more ionate approach,” she giggled, a high, tinkling sound, “Screen-based trance inducers for deep relaxation and heightened suggestibility, phallic arousal manipulators to really, shall we say, ignite the fires, and oh so much more! And of course,” she turned to me, her smile somehow widening further, “we have our fabulous Glory here, our dedicated Floor Model, to demonstrate the effects!”

Hearing my name in that saccharine voice felt like a cheese grater to the brain, even if she was technically being complimentary. As complementary as Jenny could be in her perpetually sunny, subtly vacant reality. “Yeah, sup,” I said, stepping towards Mr. Khakis, my heavy platform boots clunking on the polished tile floor. The silver chains dangling from my belt jingled and swayed with each stride, adding to the general vibe of “don’t touch me” that I was projecting. He flinched back slightly as I got closer, pupils dilating just a fraction. Good to know that even on minimum wage, I still had it.

“Glory is simply the best,” Jenny reiterated, her voice bordering on reverential in its bland sincerity as she grabbed my shoulders from behind. For some reason, she seemed to think we were friends. “She has been specifically optimized to withstand all our product lines! You’ll get to witness the results directly, sir!”

“Cause someone has to get stuck with it,” I drawled, stopping inches from Mr. Khakis. Up close he smelled of the kind of cologne guys wore picking up girls half their age at bars. Nearly made me sneeze. I leaned in a little closer, and he took a step back. “Listen, it’s simple. You wanna see if this mind-control shit actually works before you empty your wallet? You watch them zap me. That way you know it works, and you know how it works. Simple, yeah?” I punctuated my rhetorical question with a short, dismissive snort, just loud enough to be pointedly insulting.

Mr. Khakis actually seemed a little taken aback by my straightforwardness, blinking a couple of times before stammering, “Well, I am just, my wife, she’s very good, you know? At, uh” He trailed off, cheeks flushing a little. “Everything. Blowjobs, sex, cooking… all of that. She does whatever I want, really.” He seemed oddly deflated by his own ission, like he was expecting praise and just getting air.

Jenny, bless her brainwashed heart, somehow managed to hear subtext where there was probably just awkward fumbling. “Oh! I understand perfectly!” she exclaimed, nodding with vigorous enthusiasm. “You’re looking for something more than mere obedience. Something beyond the mundane pleasures! You’re seeking to explore the thrilling dynamic of willpower and suggestion! The delicate dance of control!” She practically vibrated with excitement, as if she’d just cracked the enigma code of customer desires. “You, sir, are in touch with your inner power fantasy! Bravo!”

I nearly choked back a laugh. The thrilling dynamic of willpower and suggestion? Was that code for being a control freak pervert? Probably in Mind Mart speak. Mr. Khakis, though, seemed to eat it up. His posture straightened a little, and a flicker of something that might have been pride crossed his features. “Yes, yes, exactly! You get it. It’s not that she doesn’t please me,” he rushed to clarify, like he needed to defend his wife’s BJ skills to a couple of retail employees, “it’s just I want to try something different.” He gestured vaguely again, his hand fluttering in the air like a trapped moth.

“Different we have, sir!” Jenny declared, whirling towards a display stand showcasing a series of chrome and plastic contraptions. “Allow me to introduce you to the Spiral Windwheel!” She picked up a small, hand-held device that looked like an oversized pizza cutter more than a wind wheel. The disc itself was etched with a simple white color with a black spiral. Old school retro.

“This little marvel,” Jenny continued, holding it aloft with practiced reverence, “is perfect for the discerning customer who appreciates a gradual approach. It emits a precisely calibrated field of hypnotic energy our soft female minds can’t possibly resist,” she waved her hand dramatically, “But it’s at such a low concentration that rather than instantly zonking a girl’s mind away, you’re inducing a slow, delicious trance over approximately two minutes. Ideal for those who relish the anticipation of altered states. And,” she leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice just slightly, “for those who, shall we say, enjoy witnessing the subtle surrender of free will as it unfolds.”

“Two minutes?” Mr. Khakis echoed, his eyebrows raising slightly. He actually sounded intrigued now, his earlier nervousness replaced by a kind of hesitant curiosity. “The app on my phone has it down to under 50 milliseconds, so that seems awfully slow.”

“Precisely!” Jenny chirped, “It’s all about the journey, sir! The Windwheel allows you—and of course, your partner—to observe the gradual descent into a delightfully suggestible state! You’ll see the change in the eyes, the subtle shifts in posture, the softening of resistance!” She practically purred the last word, her gaze flicking to me for a split second before returning to Mr. Khakis. “Any old app can force a female to obey, but this lets you enjoy watching her surrender.”

Ugh, softening of resistance? This was getting seriously cheesy, even for Mind Mart. If no one stopped her, Jenny would be babbling corporate propaganda till the sun went down. Might as well get on with it. “So, you gonna zap me or what?” I interrupted, cutting through Jenny’s sales pitch. “Because I’ve got better things to do that put up with your wimpy bullshit.” I folded my arms across my chest, which had the entirely predictable effect of shoving my breasts up, the fabric pulling taut enough to let him just barely see the nipples underneath. Gotta give the customer a show, right?

Jenny blinked, as if she’d momentarily forgotten I was there. “Oh! Yes, of course, Glory is ready and willing to demonstrate!” She practically shoved the Spiral Windwheel into Mr. Khakis’s hands, “Just point the emitter in her general direction, sir, and press the activation button. It’s wonderfully intuitive!” She gave him an encouraging smile; Jenny had over two hundred smiles to fit any situation.

Mr. Khakis looked down at the device in his hand, then back at me, a hesitant little smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Uh, okay. Like, right here?” he asked, pointing it towards me.

“It’s not rocket science,” I said, rolling my eyes again, “The emission radius on that thing is big enough to take out a cheerleading squad, so it’s not like you can miss.” Honestly, some people. I sighed dramatically, tilting my head back and closing my eyes, trying to look as bored and put-upon as humanly possible. “Just get on with it, fucking perv.”

“Okay, okay. Thanks. Got it.” The Spiral Windwheel whirred softly to life as Mr. Khakis fumbled with the button on the side—a low, almost inaudible hum that vibrated faintly in the air. The plastic wheel started spinning at around one rotation every three seconds, and a soft, pink glow emanated from the pink LED light on the handle—the whole windwheel part was purely cosmetic, with all the actual tech kept in the rod. The pink light it was emitting moved so slowly that I could have probably outrun it if my paycheck wasn’t on the line, and when it made on my skin it felt like sunlight, free pizza, and Christmas morning rolled into one. I had to hand it to Mez Incorporated, they knew how to get a girl addicted.

“Excellent aim, sir!” Jenny announced, her voice bubbling with barely suppressed glee. She watched with rapt attention, like she was observing a particularly fascinating science experiment and not just me about to be mind-controlled again for the millionth time.

I focused on keeping my face scrunched up in a scowl, forcing my eyes to keep glaring at Mr. Khakis. On reflex, I started reciting Pi backwards from the hundredth digit, an old habit I’d developed to resist the hypnotic hazards of modern day life. Always gotta be prepared.

“Can you feel anything?” Mr. Khakis asked, his voice a little breathy now. He was so into it. Nerd. He was actually leaning forward slightly, eyes wide and fixed on my face.

I let out a low, theatrical groan. “Ugh yeah, yeah, I feel nothing. Absolutely zip. This thing is about as effective as a fart in a hurricane,” I grumbled, keeping my voice low and slurred, like I was already fighting off the ‘effects’. Gotta sell the struggle, make the eventual ‘surrender’ all the more convincing. This kind of gizmo might work on your standard bimbos like Jenny, but it’d take a hell of a lot more than this to make me bend the knee. “Don’t think for a second that this pink sparkly crap is gonna make me do anything. I’m Glory. I don’t submit to no one, especially not some dweeb with a windwheel.” I punctuated the last word with a derisive snort.

Jenny, predictably, lapped it up. “Oh, you see, sir? Magnificent!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together again even louder this time. “Note the overt resistance! The vocalized defiance! A perfectly normal initial reaction! The Windwheel is subtly eroding her higher cognitive functions, even as she struggles! Isn’t it fascinating?” She was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, her enthusiasm reaching near-dangerous levels. Her breasts jiggled slightly with each bounce, always threatening to pop out at any second.

Mr. Khakis seemed mesmerized, eyes glued to my face, his earlier nervousness completely replaced by a sort of wide-eyed delight. “She really seems to be fighting it,” he murmured, almost to himself, a slow smile spreading across his face. He subtly tightened his grip on the Windwheel,

“That’s right, dummy,” I muttered. Part of me had wanted to call him a shitlord, but that seemed a bit harsh for a nice guy like him. “It’s not gonna work. I’m too strong-willed for your little toy. You can point that pinky-winky light at me all day and I’ll still tell you to go f… to get stuffed…” I trailed off, my words getting slightly more slurred, voice dropping even further. Just talking was way too much effort. “Never gonna… submit.”

I might not submit, but if I was being honest, I could do this all day. Relaxing under the pink lights was like a deep tissue massage for my brain.

As the seconds ticked by, he glanced at his watch, then back to me. “Am I doing this right? It’s been two minutes and ten seconds and she’s still swaying on her feet.”

“You’re doing such a good job, sir! Sometimes with particularly strong-willed girls, you’ll reach a state of equilibrium. A few more minutes and she’ll be out like a light, but” She gave him a conspiratorial smile as she leaned in closer to stage whisper into his ears. “A strong, assertive command from a powerful man like yourself should be all you need. Why don’t you try it?”

“Okay. Uh Gloria?” It was the first time he’d talked to me since he’d come into this store. Asshole.

“My name’s no—t”

“Go into a trance for me, please?”

Mr. Strong and Assertive right here. What’d he even need the merchandise for? No, really. I’m being serious. There’s no way I could disobey a paragon of manliness like him. This isn’t sarcasm! It might be the beams of pure mind melting energy soaking into my brain right now (probably not) but I felt like I’d do anything for this man.

“Yes, Master. I will go into trance for you.”

Master says. I obey. He wanted my mind turned off, and off it went like a light switch.

Mind off.

Mind on.

As things were rebooting, the first thing I noticed was the pink light was gone. Just the fluorescent Mind Mart lights up overhead. It didn’t feel like much time had ed at all, but when I reached up to check, sure enough my hand bumped into naked tit-flesh, my black t-shirt rolled up to expose myself. I knew from security footage that like half of all guys, that was the very first thing they did. Not that I could blame them; my tits are amazing.

Jenny was there, hovering. Still smiling, still impossibly cheerful. And Mr. Khakis. Standing in front of me. Looking concerned? Wait, looking? He was looking at me?

A strange fluttery feeling in my chest. Not bad fluttery. Good fluttery. Like excitement. And something else. Something warm and fuzzy. Again with the fuzziness. But this fuzziness was directed right at him. Mr. Khakis. No, Frank. His name was Frank. Not even Master Frank. Just Frank. I liked that name. It sounded strong. Like him.

He was still looking at me, his eyes searching, a slight furrow in his brow. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft. Gentle. Like a comforting blanket.

“Oh!” I gasped, surprised at the sound of my own voice. It sounded different. Lighter. Happier. “Frank!” I exclaimed, a giggle bubbling up from somewhere deep inside. “Frank, yes! Of course, I’m okay! More than okay! I’m wonderful!” A genuine smile spread across my face. No wonder Jenny did it so much. Smiling at a man like Frank felt wonderful.

I took a step towards him, another giggle escaping. “Frank,” I repeated, just to say his name again. It tasted sweet on my tongue. “You used the Windwheel on me! It worked! It really, really worked!” I clapped my hands together, just like Jenny.

“See, sir? Magnificent!” Jenny chimed, her voice ringing with triumph. “A textbook transition! Note the enhanced mood! The positive verbal affirmations! Complete and utter receptivity to suggestion!” She was practically glowing, radiating even more cheerfulness than humanly possible.

Frank, however, seemed a little less sure. A hesitant smile played on his lips, but his eyes still held a flicker of doubt? “You sure feel okay?” he asked again, his voice still gentle, his gaze searching mine.

“Okay?” I echoed, tilting my head, my blue-tipped black hair swaying softly around my shoulders. “Frank, I feel amazing! I feel devoted! Completely and utterly devoted to you!” I stepped closer to him, and reached out, taking his hand. His hand was warm, strong, firm. Perfect. “Anything you want, Frank. Anything at all. Just tell me.” My voice was soft, breathy, pleading. Pleading to please him. Pleading for his direction.

Frank swallowed, his eyes widening just a fraction. He looked at Jenny, then back at me, then back at Jenny again, as if seeking some kind of confirmation? Validation? Jenny just beamed and nodded, her perfect blonde waves bouncing.

“Anything?” Frank repeated, his voice a little shaky now, a tremor of excitement. “Like really, anything?”

“Anything,” I breathed, squeezing his hand gently, leaning forward to flatten my breasts against his body. “Just say it, Frank. Whatever you desire.” My heart was doing little happy flips in my chest just being this close to him.

“Anything within the of service, sir,” Jenny added. Such a buzzkill.

He took a deep breath, then another, his gaze fixed on mine, searching, still a flicker of disbelief. But also something else. Something darker. Excitingly dark. He might have a wife back home, but there’s no way she was half as hot as me. “Okay,” he said, his voice lower now, huskier, a little bit rougher. “Okay, um, turn around.”

Turn around? Yes. Of course. Whatever he wanted. I dropped his hand, suddenly eager to obey, thrilled by the simple command. I turned, my platform boots pivoting on the polished floor, my back now to Frank, facing Jenny and the rows of hypnotizing trinkets on the shelves. My skirt swirled slightly around my thighs, and I gave a twist of my hips to make sure it lifted enough to show off the black thong I had on underneath.

“Bend over,” Frank said, his voice even lower now, almost a growl. A thrill shot through me at the sound, a delicious shiver that started in my toes and raced all the way up to the roots of my hair. Bend over. For Frank. Obey.

Without hesitation, without question, without even a flicker of anything except pure, eager obedience, I bent at the waist, placing my hands on my knees, pushing my backside out towards him, offering myself completely, utterly, to his will. My naked breasts were pulled down into a torpedo shape by gravity, and I gave a wiggle in my shoulders to make sure he could see them even from behind. And now I waited. Waiting for Frank. Waiting for his touch. His command. Waiting to please him, in any way, shape, or form he desired.

The first smack landed with a loud crack that echoed in the empty store. My ass stung, sharp and sudden, but I didn’t even any pain buried beneath the intense jolt of pleasure. A soft moan escaped my lips. ‘Oh, Frank,’ I breathed, my voice thick with desire. Not just desire—hunger. For more. For everything he could give me.

Another smack, harder this time, sending a ripple of sensation through my ass and nearly knocking me off my feet. “Yes, Frank! Harder! Please!” I gasped, my voice getting raspier with each impact. My hands tightened on my knees, my knuckles white, pushing my ass up and out even further. I wanted him to see it, to want it, to take it. To take me.

He didn’t disappoint. The spanking continued, a rhythmic barrage of sharp slaps and harder, lingering smacks: whap whap WHACK thwack. Each impact sent jolts of joy through my body, each one making me moan and writhe and beg for more. “Oh, Frank, yes, please, harder, punish me, master” The words spilled out of my mouth. He might be too humble to

Through the haze, I felt Frank flip my skirt up onto my lower back. Felt his fingers sliding my thong down my thighs. Anticipation coiled in my stomach—then pressure, insistent and unmistakable, his godly cock spreading me open. I arched instinctively, biting back a whimper, and as soon as I felt the head of his cock penetrate, I pushed back to take his whole length deep inside. This was what he wanted. What I was made for.

Frank grunted, grabbed on to my hips for , and started thrusting. “Ahhh!” I yelled, my voice cracking with the force of it, my head thrown back, hair whipping against my shoulders. “Frank! Fuck me, Frank, fuck me hard!”

He did. He drove into me again and again, each thrust deep and relentless, my moans and cries echoing in the store mixing with the wet squelch of our bodies grinding together. My breasts bounced and jiggled with each impact, every clap of our bodies coming together. It was beyond anything I’d ever experienced. Pure, unadulterated sensation. Driven by Frank’s will, fueled by my absolute and utter desire to obey.

I wanted that moment to last forever, but it was over all too soon. Three minutes? Not that I thought Master Frank was a quickshot or anything. Obeying him felt better than any orgasm could ever come close to. And feeling him empty his balls into my hot, begging pussy was the highlight of my life.

“Is this really it?” he muttered as he pulled out and used the fabric of my skirt to wipe his dick.

Jenny’s reply was immediate, her cheerful voice cutting through his post-nut clarity. “Is everything not to your satisfaction, sir? Glory is performing optimally, as you can see! Complete and utter compliance!” Her tone was positively beaming with pride, like she’d personally engineered this whole scenario for maximum customer gratification.

“Yeah, she’s compliant alright,” he said, disappointment plain in his tone. “Too compliant. That’s that’s the thing. It’s just like my wife, and the whole hypnobeams and giving her the commands while she’s parroting them back like a zombie was fun, but now she’s just like my wife. It’s kind of boring.”

“Boring?” Jenny echoed, a flicker of panic momentarily coloring her otherwise relentlessly sunny tone. “I wouldn’t call Glory boring, sir. Surely it’s every man’s dream to have a hot goth girlfriend slave eager to ride you any minute of the day?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s technically perfect,” Frank itted, his voice tightening slightly, “but I don’t know. It was hotter when she was being hypnotized, but more fun when we were having sex. But I guess it’s not like I can fuck and hypnotize a girl at the same time, right?”

“Oh,” Jenny said, the single syllable hanging in the air for a moment. I could practically hear her processing this unexpected complaint. “I see. Hypnokink and sex together. I see, I see!” Her tone was still cheerful, but there was a focus now, examining a puzzle put before her.

“Yeah,” Frank sighed, “I mean, something like that. I guess I find the process more fun than the end result, but I also don’t want to wait around until she’s fully broken.”

So broken. Shattered. I had no will but my Master’s. He was my god. I wanted to suck his cock so bad, but until Master Frank told me to stop bending over, I wasn’t going to move an inch.

“Hmmm,” Jenny hummed thoughtfully. “Fascinating. A nuanced palette indeed, sir. A preference for performative resistance, perhaps? Nonconsenting consent. Resistance. Defiance but still being able to enjoy the girl all the while… oh!” A lightbulb went up over Jenny’s head. “I know just what you need, sir. Please allow me to introduce you to our Willbreaker line of accessories.”

“Willbreaker?” he repeated.

Jenny practically vibrated with renewed enthusiasm. “Indeed, sir! The Willbreaker line is our range, designed for the discerning dominant who appreciates a more interactive experience!” She gestured towards another display, this one showcasing a collection of sleek, high-tech looking collars in various shades of chrome, faux leather, pink, and black. “These are not mere ‘obedience enforcers’,” she declared with zealous reverence, “they are sophisticated behavioral modification tools! The Willbreaker collars actively monitor the submissive’s willpower levels in real-time!”

“Willpower levels?” Frank echoed again. He was absolutely buying into the pitch. He didn’t need to buy anything from this store to keep me his slave, but that was the charming thing about Master Frank. He simply enjoyed the process. “How does that work?”

Jenny beamed, grabbing a sleek, matte-black collar from the display. It was surprisingly delicate-looking, a slim band of smooth material, the interior having a comfortable fuzzy lining. “Each Willbreaker collar contains a proprietary ‘Resilience Matrix Chip’,” she explained, holding it up for Frank to inspect. “It continuously analyzes the submissive’s brainwave patterns to assess their current willpower level on a scale of zero to one hundred! Zero, of course, represents complete and utter submission, and one hundred is just the opposite. As free-willed as can be.”

“Huh. Neat,” Frank murmured, running a hand through his thinning hair, his eyes fixed on the collar. “But why is it called the Willbreaker if all it does is monitor?”

Jenny’s smile widened further, if that was even possible. “Ah, the real-time updates on your submissive’s willpower is just the beginning, sir!” she chirped, positively bubbling with delight. “The Willbreaker collars don’t just monitor willpower, they regulate it. When you lower it with the collar, no amount of time or effort is going to let her raise it back up, and no matter how you treat her, it won’t lower on its own either. Excellent for a submissive’s mental health. But that’s not all! The Willbreaker connects wirelessly to a -friendly smartphone or tablet.” She gestured to a nearby tablet displaying a brightly colored app interface. “Through the app, you have complete control over your collared submissive’s actions.”

She tapped the tablet screen again, bringing up a new menu. “You can customize everything! You can preset behavioral parameters. For example,” she tapped the screen again, “say you wish to discourage ‘backtalk’ or ‘unauthorized eye ’. You simply input these parameters into the app, and the collar becomes sensitized to these specific behaviors!”

“Sensitized what’s that mean?” Frank asked, leaning in closer to get a better look at the tablet screen.

“Why, with exquisitely calibrated motivational , of course!” Jenny said with a wink, her tone almost conspiratorial now. “Should the submissive exhibit a prohibited behavior—say, they roll their eyes, or ignore a direct command—the Willbreaker will activate, delivering a precision shock straight to the part of her brain that carries free will! The willpower level instantly s a dip, and depending on your pre-set configurations,” she tapped the screen again, “the collar can deliver a ‘corrective stimulation’!” She paused for dramatic effect, her eyes sparkling.

“Like some kind of shock collar?” Frank guessed, a slow grin spreading across his face now.

“Precisely!” Jenny chirped. “A precisely modulated, entirely safe, and utterly effective little jolt! Just enough to gently ‘nudge’ the submissive back onto the path of optimal obedience!” She held up the collar again, twirling it between her fingers. “And the beauty of it, sir, is just how easy it is to customize! You can control not just the intensity of the corrective stimulus,” she tapped the app again, “but also the drain rate of the willpower itself! You can set it to be a gradual erosion, or a rapid collapse! Entirely at your discretion!”

Frank reached out, taking the collar from Jenny’s hand, turning it over and over, examining it closely. “So,” he said slowly, thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on the sleek black collar in his hand, “if she ‘misbehaves’, the collar shocks her? And the more she resists, the weaker she gets? The closer to zero she gets?”

“Exactly!” Jenny beamed, her voice ringing with triumph. “You understand perfectly, sir! It’s a dynamic, interactive system! It’s not just about imposing control, it’s about observing the struggle! Witnessing the delicious attrition of willpower as they fight against their own base desires!” Her cheeks were flushed now, her breath coming a little faster. Even Jenny, it seemed, could get genuinely turned on by the nuances of advanced mind control technology.

Frank’s grin widened, a slow, predatory curve of his lips. He looked down at me, still bent over, still gloriously, mindlessly submissive. “Can I get a demo?”

Jenny reached behind the counter, retrieving a small, spray bottle with a faintly glowing blue liquid inside. “Not a problem at all, sir! We have a handy-dandy solution for every demonstration reset need!” She approached me, squatting down to put us at eye level since I still hadn’t been told to stop bending over. “This, dear customer,” she chirped, aiming the nozzle at my face, “is our patented Dispel Spray! One quick puff, and poof! Factory settings restored!”

Before I could even a flicker of protest, she pressed the nozzle and a fine mist—cool and slightly citrus-scented—sprayed over my face with two quick pssht psshts. The smell was sharp and artificial, immediately cleared out my sinuses, and felt like someone had just dropped my brain into a bucket of ice water, a brain freeze so painful I had to clench my teeth and groan. Feature, not a bug, according to our manager; the old prototypes had girls still riding the high of whatever mind controlled bliss they’d been under the influence of, making it ineffective as a mental palette cleanser. How horrible would that be, yeah?

At least the brain freeze only lasted a few seconds, and when it faded, all of those euphoric feelings of contentment, happiness, and love? Gone. Replaced by irritation. Familiar, welcome, glorious irritation. My mind snapped back into focus, the fog clearing, thoughts re-aligning. Oh, hell no. I was bent and grabbing my knees, ass in the air, thong at my ankles, jizz dripping down my thighs. Fantastic.

I straightened up abruptly, pushing myself upright with a grunt. My back cracked satisfyingly, and I bent over again to pull the thong back up, my face scrunching up as it hit the fresh payload Mr. Khakis—Frank—had left behind.. “Ugh,” I groaned, wiping my face with my palm to try and get the lingering mist and the residual ickiness of the whole experience off. “Brainwashing me is one thing, but think you could last longer than two minutes next time, guy?”

“Ah… sorry?” He at least had the decency to look emasculated, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

“That’s the Glory we all know and love! Welcome back! And as you can see, valued customer, she’s ready to mouth off and resist all over again thanks to the Dispel Spray, the perfect solution when you just want to start over. Only 19.99 before sales tax!” Jenny said, holding up the bottle near her smiling face like she was filming an infomercial.

“Maybe next time. So about the collar thing?” He ignored the sales pitch, so Jenny immediately switched back.

“Of course, sir! Now, about the Willbreaker collar,” she continued, redirecting her laser-beam cheerfulness back at Frank.

“As you can see,” she presented the collar to him for inspection, not that there was much to look at with all the circuitry being internal, “it’s remarkably -friendly. The initial setup is incredibly intuitive. You simply the Willbreaker Companion App onto your smartphone,” she held up the tablet, displaying a cartoonishly bright icon, “pair it with the collar via Bluetooth” she mimed tapping the tablet against the collar, “and you’re ready to customize your behavioral protocols!”

She tapped the tablet again, bringing up a screen showcasing various settings within the app. “You can personalize everything! Behavior triggers, shock intensity, willpower drain rate… even the haptic settings! Some dominants prefer a sharp, stinging shock,” she shuddered theatrically, “others prefer a more pervasive, vibratory sensation. It’s all entirely customizable to suit your individual preferences!”

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms and leaning against the counter, resisting the urge to hit the restroom to clean up between my legs. I’d pull my shirt down too, but it’s not like I was ashamed of anything. Let him stare. “Yeah, sounds thrilling,” I drawled, dripping sarcasm. “Can we wrap this up? Some of us have lives to get back to, you know?”

Jenny completely ignored me, continuing her sales pitch with unwavering enthusiasm. “And the app provides real-time willpower monitoring, directly to your phone! You can track the submissive’s resilience level as it fluctuates throughout the day! Imagine, sir, the delicious anticipation of watching that number dwindle, knowing that with each minor infraction, with each tiny flicker of defiance, they are slipping further and further into total submission!”

Frank finally looked up from the collar, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Real-time monitoring,” he murmured, his eyes gleaming with genuine fascination. “That’s actually pretty impressive.” He fiddled with the collar again, tracing the contours of the control . “So, how does it attach?”

“Oh, simple!” Jenny chirped again, retrieving the collar from Frank and turning to me, finally acknowledging my existence again. “Glory, dear, if you wouldn’t mind?” She held the collar out to me, the matte black surface reflecting the harsh store lights. “Just pop this little beauty on for our valued customer, would you?”

I pushed myself off the counter I’d been leaning against. “It’s why I earn the big bucks, right?” I muttered under my breath, reaching for the collar. “Wouldn’t want to deprive our valued customer here of the full Mind Mart experience, would we?” I took the collar from Jenny, examining it with unconcealed skepticism. If I was going to wear a collar, they could have at least picked out the one with the metal studs and dark purple lining. This one looked so… utilitarian.

I snapped it open, fingers sinking into the soft padding on the inside. They might not be stylish, but at least they were comfortable. I positioned it around my neck, then snapped it shut with a satisfying click. It fit snugly, not too tight, not too loose.

As soon as the clasp clicked, a small LED on the front of the collar started blinking as it attempted to pair. Jenny tapped on the tablet, and there was a synth five note jingle that played as it successfully linked up. And, right on cue, Jenny’s tablet chimed, displaying a new reading on the app interface: “Willpower Level: 100.”

“Excellent!” Jenny exclaimed, pointing at the tablet. “See, sir? One hundred! Full resistance engaged! A blank slate, ready for personalization!” She beamed at Frank, then back at me, her cheerfulness somehow even more relentless than before.

I rolled my eyes again, pointing towards the tip jar on the counter—a clear plastic jar decorated with glittery neon lettering proclaiming “Tips Appreciated!”

“Don’t forget to tip your Floor Model, perv,” I said, my voice flat. “I’m going above and beyond here, and it’s a real drag.”

Frank, however, just blinked, then glanced at the tip jar, a vaguely distracted expression on his face. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled five-dollar bill and dropping it into the jar. “Right, sure. Of course,” he mumbled, his gaze already drifting back to the tablet, to the alluring graphs and customizable parameters of the Willbreaker Companion App. “So, Jenny,” he said, completely turning his attention back to her, his eyes alight with techno-lust, “tell me more about these behavioral triggers.”

“Excellent question, sir!” Jenny chirped, her eyes sparkling like a good slutty zealot. She tapped the tablet again, bringing up a new screen displaying a list of pre-programmed Behavioral Protocols. “We offer a range of popular presets, based on customer and optimal submissive conditioning outcomes! Let’s take a look, shall we?” She held the tablet out in front of her, scrolling down without even needing to see the screen.

“With Glory being the adorable little scamp that she is, ‘Sarcasm Detection’ makes for a great demonstration,” she began, her voice bright and informative. “The collar is highly attuned to detect even the slightest hint of falsehood in a submissive’s brainwaves! A raised eyebrow, a subtly mocking tone, even a hint of dryness in their delivery—all instantly trigger a corrective impulse! Very effective for curbing undesirable attitudes!”

I snorted from my position leaning against the counter. “Yeah, wouldn’t want anyone displaying any independent thought now, would we? Gotta nip that pesky ‘free will’ thing right in the bud.” My sarcasm was practically dripping from my voice. If they were going to zap it away, I might as well use it while I had the chance.

Frank, predictably, didn’t even my comment. His gaze was glued to the tablet screen, nodding slowly as Jenny continued her explanation. “‘Backtalk Suppression’ is another very popular option,” Jenny went on, oblivious to my muttered jabs. “This protocol targets direct verbal disobedience! Any deviation from direct, affirmative responses triggers a mild deterrent! Perfect for establishing clear communication boundaries!” She mimed a stern, authoritative tone, “‘Clean this up, now!’ and if the submissive responds with anything other than a prompt ‘Yes, Master!’? Zap! Instant reinforcement of appropriate verbal submission!”

“‘Yes, Master’?” I echoed, raising a genuinely incredulous eyebrow this time. “Seriously? That phrase was cringe even back in the 40s. You’re not seriously going to want to hear that, are you?”

Again, complete and utter radio silence from Frank. He was fully immersed in Jenny’s sales pitch, eyes scanning the other triggers on the list. Like a kid in a candy store.

Jenny, still unfazed by my interruptions, simply giggled and continued. “And of course, ‘General Disobedience’ is a broad-spectrum protocol, designed for overall compliance enhancement!” She tapped the tablet again, bringing up a more detailed submenu. “This encomes a range of ‘undesirable behaviors’, including failure to follow instructions promptly, unauthorized deviations from prescribed routines, and ive resistance.” She paused, leaning in conspiratorially towards Frank. “We actually suggest you avoid this one, as it can set off a loop that has the submissive’s willpower drained to 0 before you even know it.”

“Right. That’d kind of defeat the purpose,” Frank nodded along.

“Buuut, while the suggested settings are for a long term journey of submission over the course of days or weeks, we would be happy to give you an accelerated demonstration. Isn’t that right, Glory?”

“Fuck. You.” My middle finger felt like it might snap off if I raised it any harder.

“Already in character, I see. Such a pro!” Jenny tapped away at the tablet, and I could feel an electric tingle coming from the collar around my neck. “Adjust the willpower drain to ten point increments, and for our first protocol… oh, I know the perfect one. Failure to smile.”

“Hah! I like that,” Frank agreed. His gaze lingered on me. Not in a creepy, lecherous way like before, but with a new kind of clinical interest. No, he wasn’t even looking at me, just the collar, and what it was about to do.

“Okay, Jenny,” he said, his voice sharpening with a newfound purpose. “Let’s try it out. ‘Failure to smile’.”

Jenny beamed, practically bouncing with excitement. “Excellent choice, sir! A classic for a reason!” She tapped a few more things on the tablet. “‘Failure to Smile’ protocol engaged! Shock intensity: level three! Willpower drain per infraction: ten percent! How about it, Glory? Ready to turn that frown upside down?!” She said as she held the tablet out to Frank with a flourish.

My default facial expression is somewhere between “mildly annoyed” and “actively plotting your demise.” Smiling on command felt unnatural. Goth girls didn’t smile. They were rude, sarcastic, and way too stubborn to compromise their appearance over bullshit like this. So naturally, I didn’t. I just stared back at him, my scowl deepening, my lips pursed in a silent, defiant pout.

Zzzzzzt!

“FUCK!” A sharp, sudden jolt of electricity ripped through my neck, centered precisely on the Willbreaker collar. It wasn’t agonizing pain, not exactly. More like getting stung by a bee, only instead of pain it was radiating a concentrated burst of pure wrongness. My muscles spasmed involuntarily, my head snapping back, a strangled gasp escaping my lips. “Unh!”

“Oh!” Jenny exclaimed, clapping her hands together with gleeful enthusiasm. “Excellent! Textbook response! Did you see that, sir? Immediate !”

Frank actually jumped a little, startled by the sudden zap and my involuntary reaction. His eyes widened, but not with alarm. More with something akin to fascinated awe. “Whoa,” he breathed, staring at the collar, then at me, then back at the collar. “That was hot.”

“Yeah? How about you wear the collar then? Bast...” I hesitated, then finished with a muttered, “Jerk.”

Wasn’t too smart to piss off the guy who could melt my mind to goo at the push of a button, right? Just being logical. Which sucked, because I still wanted to rake my black nails across his face. But there was an artificial fear in the back of my head now, telling me how bad of an idea that was. And an even more obviously fake voice in the back of my head telling me that Frank was hot when he was treating me like property.

Jenny’s tablet chimed again, and she confirmed it.

“Willpower Level: 90,” she announced proudly, like I was her prize cow. “Anger dulled, critical thinking slowed, submissive tendencies heightened, and fear response active!”

“Nice. But uh… she still ain’t smiling though,” Frank pointed out.

“Indeed, sir!” Jenny said. Her cheerfulness was relentless, even in the face of my growing irritation. If I didn’t know better, I might have thought she actually liked playing with my head like it was a lego set. “Her willpower’s only dropped to 90! Still strong enough to resist the command, but already you can see the results. The Willbreaker has a default cooldown of five minutes—we’re savoring this experience—but you can override the cooldown at any time by directly interacting with the collar’s unit.”

“Who the fuck are you calling a unit?” I snapped.

Frank was now fully on board. He watched me intently, the corner of his lips twitching in his own small, encouraging smile. “Alright, let’s try this again,” he said, his voice steady, with a hint of authoritative undertone. “Glory, give us a smile, will ya?”

I figured that I should probably smile. Play along. But I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction that they didn’t need tech, just a bit of teasing and bullying was enough to get me to fold. Fuck that.

…plus the more I was zapped, the faster we’d be done with this.

“Fff… screw that,” I managed with a grimace.

Zzzzzzt!

The collar’s response was immediate, another sharp jolt coursing through my neck. My muscles tensed, my teeth clenched, the feeling that I’d fucked up deeply hitting me even more intensely this time. “Unh!”

“Willpower Level: 80,” Jenny announced, her voice a symphony of satisfaction. “See, sir? Another ten percent drop!.The is working perfectly! Her resistance is weakening, ever so gradually.”

Frank watched the display on the tablet, nodding slowly. He looked taller now. Stronger. Scarier. Sexier. Bullshit, I knew, he was the same suburban dork that’d walked into the store, but the collar was making a compelling argument that men like him were to be obeyed.. “Interesting,” he murmured, almost to himself. “She’s still fighting it, though.”

“Precisely, sir!” Jenny agreed, her excitement bubbling over like a fizzy drink. “And that’s where the real magic lies! As it says on the box, ahem, ‘Don’t bend them to your will. Break them!’.”

“Good point.” Frank leaned forward slightly, his gaze fixed on mine. There was a challenge in his eyes, a test of wills, as if daring me to resist him again. “C’mon, Glory,” he teased. “Let’s see that smile.”

This time, it wasn’t just the pain that made me hesitate. There was a messed up part of me that wanted to please him. To see that look of satisfaction on his face. It was a traitorous whisper in the back of my mind, urging me to comply, to surrender just a little.

My lips twitched, an involuntary quiver. A… smirk. That’s all it was, I swear.

“There!” Jenny exclaimed, clapping her hands together in triumph. “See, sir? She’s responding! A subtle, yet undeniable shift!”

Frank’s smile widened, a slow, approving curve of his lips. “Not bad,” he said, looking at me like I was some kind of pet. “Not bad at all.”

He was clearly savoring the small victory, and I could almost see the gears turning in his head as he considered his next move. “Alright, Jenny,” he said, a hint of anticipation in his voice, “let’s try the sarcasm detector.”

“An excellent choice, sir!” Jenny responded with her usual enthusiasm, tapping away on the tablet to switch protocols. “The sarcasm detector is one of our most popular features! It’s incredibly sensitive, though with a firecracker like Glory, I don’t think we need to worry.” She gave me a conspiratorial wink, like we were banter buddies. “Ready when you are, Glory!”

I straightened up, rolling my shoulders back and lifting my chin defiantly. Despite the lingering sting from the last zap, there was a fire burning inside me, a stubborn refusal to be completely tamed. “Well what are you waiting for? I’ve been fantasizing about a portly dude to outsource his domination to an app all my life.”

Zzzzzzt!

The shock was immediate, a sharp, jarring pulse that tore through my body, leaving me gasping. My vision blurred for a moment, my knees almost buckling beneath me. “Fuck!” I spat, anger and pain mingling in my voice.

“Willpower Level: 70,” Jenny announced cheerfully, as if reading out the winning numbers in a lottery. “See? The sarcasm detector is incredibly effective! Each little quip costs her another ten percent.”

Frank’s eyes narrowed, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “Interesting,” he murmured. He seemed to ponder his next move. Sexy bastard. Why did he have to be just my type? Wait, khakis, glasses, and hair gel was my type now? Oh goddamnit. “Glory,” he said finally, his voice low and coaxing, “tell me how much you love being used by me.”

I hesitated, the command hanging in the air between us. The nagging voice telling me how sexy this was, how sexy (Master) Frank was, had gotten louder. So was the part that didn’t want to get zapped again.

“I uh… I love being used by you,” I said. “It’s what I live for, Frank. Master Frank. You’re just… the best…”

Zzzzzzt!

Another shock, even more powerful than the last, coursed through me. My body jerked involuntarily, a cry tearing from my throat. “Ahhhn!”

“Willpower Level: 60,” Jenny announced, her tone still relentlessly upbeat. “You were soooo close, Glory! Maybe don’t roll your eyes this time?”

I grit my teeth. The worst part was, Jenny wasn’t being sarcastic. She was doing her best to be helpful, bless her stepfordized bimbo heart.

Frank watched me, “Come on, Glory,” he coaxed, his voice smooth and coaxing. “Tell me how much you love being used. And mean it this time.”

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “I love being used by you,” I said again, and I half-believed it this time. I couldn’t deny it was sexy. That it felt good to obey him. To make him happy. “I really do. It makes me so happy.”

He bought that, right?

Zzzzzzt!

“Ow ow ow!!!”

Frank might have bought it, but there wasn’t any fooling these stupid collars.

“Willpower Level: 50,” Jenny announced, her voice a beacon of relentless cheerfulness in the haze of pain and confusion. “You’re halfway there, sir! Her resistance is crumbling!”

Frank smiled, a slow, predatory curve of his lips. “Good girl,” he said, his voice a low purr of satisfaction. “You’re doing so well, Glory. Keep going.”

“Th-thank you, sir.”

My eyes went wide and I waited for a few seconds, bracing myself.

…NOW the collar doesn’t go off? Frank was an even better dominant than I’d thought. Wait, no… the collars were more effective than I thought. Or was it that rumble in his voice? Or…

“How do you feel about being my slut?” Frank asked, silencing my muddled internal monologue and grabbing all of my focus.

I took a deep breath, swallowed.

“I love being used by you, Frank,” I said, my voice steady and sincere this time. “I want to be your good little slut.”

The collar was silent, the absence of a shock such a relief that I audibly sighed, grabbing my naked chest. I didn’t realize how heavy my breathing had gotten till just now.

Frank’s eyes lingered on me. He seemed to ponder something for a moment, then turned to Jenny, “So, is she telling the truth?” he asked, “I mean, is she really sincere about liking it, or is it just the collar making her say that?”

Jenny, ever the perfect salesperson, had an immediate answer. “Ah, an excellent question, sir!” she chirped, tapping a few things on the tablet to bring up additional data. “Glory’s response is a bit of a mixed bag, you see. The collar’s influence is definitely strong now—her willpower has dropped significantly, which among other things does enhance submissive tendencies and lets her appreciate just how lucky she is to serve an amazing man like yourself. There’s also a marked increase in meekness, and she’s finding you quite intimidating, sir, along with half of her original willpower and personality.” She smiled brightly, like this was all part of a perfectly normal day at Mind Mart.

Frank huffed, “But what does that mean? Is she lying or not?”

Jenny tilted her head slightly, finger tapping on her lower lip. “I’m afraid I don’t know, sir. According to the collar’s biometric readings, when Glory says she loves being used by you, she’s not being sarcastic,” she explained, her voice bubbly as ever as she gave the clinical answer. “However, it’s important to note that she could be saying what she thinks you want to hear because she’s afraid of more shocks or—more likely—afraid of disappointing you.”

“Hey! I’m not… um…” My cheeks were burning. Did she really have to lay it all out like that?

Frank considered this for a moment, nodding slowly. “Interesting,” he murmured, “So, she’s not completely broken. Not yet, anyway. But if she’s going to wear such a cute smile and talk like a proper young lady, I guess that means that we need to take things to the next level, eh?”

“Sir, if I may?” Jenny said with a gracious smile. “I am amazed at how quickly you’ve adapted to the technology’s particulars. Your wife is going to love it! Now then, what did you have in mind?”

God, she was such a pathetic brown-noser.

“I uh… I think you’re doing a great job breaking my will too, y’know?”

Hey, don’t judge. I at least had an excuse in the form of state-of-the-art tech wrapped around my neck that was airfrying my noggin.

“That so?” Frank’s eyes glinted as he considered his next move. With a thoughtful nod, he turned to Jenny, who was still beaming with unyielding enthusiasm. “Let’s try the disobedience trigger,” he said, his voice carrying a note of determination. “I want to see how she responds to a direct command.”

Jenny’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she tapped away on the tablet, setting up the new protocol. “An excellent choice, sir!” she chirped, her voice bright and encouraging. “The disobedience trigger is designed to reinforce compliance by delivering a corrective stimulus whenever the subject fails to follow a direct command promptly. It should provide just the right amount of motivation!”

Frank nodded, his gaze fixed on me again. “Alright, Glory,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “I want you to give me a blowjob.”

“Wait. You’re just telling me what you want, so technically, that’s not a comm—”

Zzzzzzt!

Apparently, these dumb collars didn’t care about technicalities.The jarring shock that tore through my body, leaving me gasping for breath. The pain was intense, and it felt like it was punching holes in my brain, in the fabric of what made me… me.. “Ahhh!” I cried out, loud enough to drown out the music being pumped on the store speakers.

“Willpower Level: 40,” Jenny announced cheerfully, her voice a buoyant counterpoint to the pain coursing through me. “As you can see, the disobedience trigger is highly effective at motivating compliance!”

“Come on, Glory,” he coaxed, his voice sounding so good in my ears. “You know what I want. Don’t make me ask again.” My pussy clenched and I realized just how turned on he was making me. The collar was making me. Whatever.

Why was I hesitating? This was what I was made for. My tits felt heavy, my nipples straining against my thin top as I moved forward. My movements were slow, deliberate, putting on a show as I sank to my knees on the hard store tiles.

I pressed my face against his bulge, inhaling, getting high on the smell, and tenderly unzipped him, let his hard cock smack me in the face.

“Ohhhhh fuck…” It was even more magnificent than I ed—thick veiny shaft, swollen purple head already glistening with precum. The musky male scent of him filled my nostrils, making my mouth water instantly.

“Good girl,” Frank rumbled approvingly, His strong fingers threaded through my hair, like I was his pet. I was his pet. “That’s it. Just like that.”

All my silly doubts melted away. This was right. This was perfect. I stuck my tongue out to lick up the first drop of pre-cum and savored it. “Mmmmmm…” The flavor exploded across my taste buds. That wasn’t mind control, I was sure. I bet he just naturally tasted ten times better than my favorite food. I wrapped my lips around his thick head, moaning as I slowly took him deeper. His cock was so big, stretching my mouth wide. Drool leaked from the corners as I bobbed my head, worshiping his magnificent shaft, looking up at him to show him just how grateful I was that he’d let me do this for him.

“Fuuuck yes,” Frank groaned, his grip tightening. “Such a good little cocksucker. You were made for this, weren’t you Glory?”

I moaned with as much enthusiasm as I could, too stuffed full of dick to speak. He was right—this was my purpose. To serve. To please. To obey. My pussy was practically gushing now, and that faint, distant part of who I used to be made a mental note to clean that puddle up after the sale was done, or someone was going to end up slipping.

As I continued worshipping his cock with everything I had, Frank watched me with a mix of satisfaction and contemplation; I wanted to make him cum so bad, but there was only so much I could do so soon after he’d blessed me with his creampie. I noticed his gaze settle on the collar. “So, Jenny,” he said, his voice casual, “how much is this thing gonna cost me?”

Jenny’s eyes sparkled with the delight of a consummate saleswoman, ready to seal the deal. “Ah, sir! The Willbreaker collar and companion app come as a package set for the reasonable price of $250,” she announced, her voice bright and enticing. “A small investment for nextgen subjugation of weak female minds, wouldn’t you say?”

Frank hesitated, his expression thoughtful as he processed the information. “$250, huh?” he murmured. It was clear he was considering the cost. If it was up to me, I’d give it to him at a 100% discount. No, 200%. I’d pay him to take it.

But it was thoughts like that which led to the separate saleswoman and floor model roles in the first place.

Frank nodded to himself, then gave me a knowing smirk. “Hey, Glory,” he said, his voice teasing, “That’s just a little bit out of my budget. But gotta say, I’d like to splurge. So… you don’t mind if I take that fiver back, do you?”

What. He wanted to take that measly, crumpled up five dollar bill out of the tip jar? I was serving him like the god he was… and he didn’t think that it was worth five dollars!? That faint, distant, muted part of Glory started charging forward like a mama bear defending her cubs, white hot anger turning my knuckles white as I seriously considered biting down on this motherfucker’s cock.

Instead, I spat it out and glared up at him, nostrils flaring. “Seriously!? Oh yeah, why don’t I just give my bank info too, asshole! Because god forbid I get even a tiny shred of respect here you—”

Zzzzzzt! Zzzzzzt! Zzzzzzt!

Disobedience. Sarcasm. Failure to smile.

The shocks came one after the other, blowing holes in my brain like cannonballs through drywall, leaving me breathless and trembling. My vision blurred and I nearly fell over, having to catch myself with my hands on the cold tiles.

What… what had I just been saying?

Jenny’s voice rang out, a cheerful beacon in the midst of the fog of my mind. “Willpower Level: 10,” she announced, her tone bright and celebratory. “As you can see, sir, her resistance has plummeted! She’s now in an optimal state of compliance, barely even able to think of herself as a person at all!”

I was?

“Wow, uh, didn’t expect that. It ain’t dangerous, back-to-back zaps like that?” Master asked.

“Not to worry, sir. Compared to older methods, the Willbreaker collars are as gentle as a warm summer breeze. Not to mention Glory here has a mind like a rubber band, and she’ll snap back just fine when you’re through with her.

“Oh, that’s good to know.” Master relaxed, knowing that his property was undamaged. “So uh… How about that tip, Glory?” he asked again.

For a second, a deep shame engulfed me, that a lowly slave like me would make Master have to ask twice.

“Of course, Master,” A smile spread across my face, warm and genuine; shame was the natural state of a slave like me, but it couldn’t outshine the joy I felt from obeying. “Anything for you.” I watched from my knees as he reached into the tip jar, pocketed the bill, then gave a light tap on my cheek with his cock again, encouraging me to continue where I’d left off. I happily did.

“Good girl,” he murmured in that deep, sexy, rumbling baritone of his. If he’d given me permission, I would have cum right then and there.

Jenny clapped her hands together, positively beaming with delight. “Magnificent, sir! Even with the Willbreaker, taming such a feisty girl like Glory takes some serious skill.”

Master chuckled. “You don’t say?”

I wanted to agree with Jenny, but it was more important I keep his cock stuffed down my throat so I could lap at his balls with my tongue. Master was getting close. I could feel it.

“Hey, Jenny,” Master said., “Why don’t you us? I’d love to see you both work together.”

Jenny’s eyes sparkled with delight, her smile widening as she nodded eagerly. “Of course, sir!” she chimed. “Anything to enhance your experience! Though… I’m afraid that company policy prohibits such indulgence until after a sale, so if you don’t mind…?”

Typical Jenny. We’d been burned before by scumbags that’d just been looking to empty their balls and hadn’t even bought gum. Still, the fact that she’d treat Master Frank like this was completely unacceptable.

Master’s gaze lingered on me as he weighed his options. I was more than happy to keep deepthroating his cock solo, but I knew a paragon of masculinity like Master Frank needed at least two girls to properly accept his cum. And just as I thought, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, fishing out the credit card before handing it over to Jenny.

“Pleasure doing business with you.”

Jenny accepted the card with a nod, her fingers deftly tapping away on the tablet as she processed the transaction. “Absolutely, sir!” she replied. “The purchase is complete! Thank you for choosing Mind Mart! And I’d be happy to act as your fucktoy for the next fifteen minutes.”

With the financial matters settled, Master turned his attention back to us.

“Alright, ladies,” Frank commanded, his massive cock throbbing as he looked down at his submissive slave and her bimbo coworker. His balls were heavy and full, ready to paint our faces with his heavenly load.

Jenny knelt beside me, her big (but not as big as mine!) tits swaying enticingly as she got into position. Her left arm snaked around my waist to pull us closer together while her right lifted up her mini-polo shirt, revealing her bright pink nipples.

Together we attacked Frank’s cock, our tongues working in tandem up and down his shaft. Jenny focused on his balls while I sucked on his head. It wasn’t the first time we’d done this, and for all her customer service talents, she was ten years too early to challenge my gag reflex.

Master’s cock pulsed between us as we pleasured him. Jenny’s tongue kept brushing against mine as we worked, sending tingles through my body.

“Fuck, gonna cum,” Master groaned, barely giving us any warning. Hot ropes of cum shot out, coating both our faces. Some landed in my open mouth, the salty taste making me moan. More splattered across Jenny’s cheeks and forehead.

Jenny turned to me, cum dripping from her chin. “Let’s clean each other up, shall we?” she purred. Unlike Jenny, I was straight as a ruler, but that didn’t matter. I was sure Master Frank would love a quick little lesbian show before he left.

She leaned in and licked a thick glob of cum off my cheek, then pressed her lips to mine. Her tongue pushed Master’s cum into my mouth as her hands found my tits, squeezing them roughly. I moaned into the kiss, my own hands going to her breasts.

We made sure to give Master a good view as we cleaned his cum off each other. Jenny’s tongue traced paths across my skin while I sucked his seed off her nipples. Our bodies pressed together, slick with sweat and cum.

Master zipped up his pants with a satisfied grin, his eyes lingering on us as we knelt before him. “Thanks, ladies,” he said, his voice carrying a note of genuine gratitude. “This has been way better than the time I had at Bimbo Bargains.”

Jenny beamed up at him, her smile as bright as ever. “Our pleasure, sir! Thank you for choosing Mind Mart!” she chirped, her voice ringing with cheerful professionalism.

I mirrored her smile. Jenny was so good at smiling. I needed to ask her for tips later. “Hope you enjoy your purchase,” I added. “Please come again.”

With a final nod of approval, Master turned and made his way out of the store, the bell above the entrance jingling softly as he left.

“Well, that was fun! And excellent work as always, Glory. You’re a shoe-in for employee of the month, I just know it.”

“Master…” I knew it wasn’t my right to crawl after Master Frank like a lost puppy, but it was breaking my heart being away from him.

“Oh right, let me help you with that.”

Jenny reached over and unclasped the collar from my neck. I felt… normal. Still Master’s slave, but the intensity of that fact was manageable now. I couldn’t wait to track him down after the shift, show up at his home naked, and sell myself into slavery for real. The collar might have nudged me along, but I’d discovered who I really was, and the connection between Master and I was too real to just forget. I was in love with Master Frank, and nothing was ever going to change—

Psssst. Pssssst.

Two spritzes of the Dispel Spray and that familiar brain freeze sensation crashed through my skull.

“Ugh,” I groaned, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “I can still taste him. Jenny, got any mints?”

“Of course!” She produced a tin of Altoids from her back pocket. “Wouldn’t want our next customer smelling jizz on your breath.”

I popped two mints into my mouth, letting the sharp peppermint burn away the lingering taste. “Thanks. Though seriously, what kind of cheapskate tries to take back a five dollar tip? Hell, after the shit we did for him, I deserve at least a twenty!”

“You were amazing as always, Glory! Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Jenny gave me an uninvited hug, our sticky cheeks rubbing together until I managed to shove her off. “Whatever.”

That asshole was the last customer of the day, so the next hour ed in a blur of routine closing tasks—restocking shelves, wiping down displays, counting the . Jenny hummed cheerfully as she worked, occasionally breaking into snippets of pop songs. I focused on getting the floor mopped.

Eventually, the clock struck nine, and Jenny flipped the sign from “OPEN” to “CLOSED” with a practiced flourish. And just like the end of every shift, as soon as the sign clicked into place, both our bodies went rigid, arms snapping to our sides.

“Initiating end-of-shift protocol,” Jenny intoned, her voice flat and mechanical

“Acknowledged. Executing shutdown sequence,” I responded in an equally monotone voice, the two of us sleepwalking to the back of the store.

In the back room, we moved in perfect synchronization to our lockers. Both of us twisted the combination of the padlocks in perfect synchronization, opened the doors, and retrieved the bulky chrome helmets from inside. Then we took our seat on the aluminum folding chairs near the table, donned the helmets, and waited.

“Disabling Mind Mart programming and personas,” we droned together. There was a soft whirring sound, pink spirals, and a wave of sleepiness, then…

“Ughhhh, finally!” Jenny groaned, stretching her arms above her head as her natural personality reasserted itself. She yanked off the helmet, her perfect blonde waves falling into a messier, more natural style. “Being Little Miss Perfect is exhausting, even when you’re mind controlled.”

I giggled as I removed my own helmet, the artificial crankiness melting away. “Oh, it wasn’t that bad today. That last customer was fun, right?”

“Uh huh. Fun,” Jenny smirked. “Getting zapped by all the new toys, getting jilted on tips, making out with me in front of customers… you’ve got a real fucked up idea of fun, y’know, Glory?.”

“Maybe,” I itted, fidgeting with my hands. It was so much more embarrassing to talk about this stuff when we were off the clock. “But it’s a good job, right?”

“Yeah, I’m not complaining.” Jenny defended, pulling out her phone and starting to scroll through social media. “I get paid to let the mind controlled Jenny do all the hard work while my body sells overpriced fetish tech to horny dudes, then take home a nice fat paycheck.”

I sat down next to her, splaying my arms across the table as I leaned forward. “I know what you mean. It’s kind of nice, letting the programming take over. Like... I don’t have to worry about being awkward or saying the wrong thing. Mind Mart Glory knows exactly what to do.”

“One of these days, you’re going to be too tempting for your own good, and a guy is gonna give you the mind whammy and take you home.”

I let out a dreamy sigh, smiled like a pure dope.

“Ehehe… thanks, Jen. You’re the best.”