The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

1.

Dover, Ontario Canada

Britta “Mouse” Trenton sighed, completely exhausted. It had been another awful day at work.

Britta was a bank teller/financial associate at the First National Bank of Montreal though she lived in Dover, Ontario, the city where the branch was located.

For the past month or so, however, Britta had not been living well.

That was exactly the amount of time she’d had to deal with her bosses Paul and Donna Ha. The former was the Britta’s direct supervisor while the latter was the bank president. Both had been doing whatever they could to make her working life hell.

The trouble started when Paul started sexually harassing her. Now, we’re not talking about incidental staring, asking for a date too many times, a crass comment, or even an unwanted pat on the shoulder or hug. We’re talking about the Queen Mother—quid pro quo sexual harassment—and of the worst sort to boot.

Paul was the most direct offender. It started out with making es at her and asking for physical . It soon escalated to unwanted physical . That unwanted physical being groping her bottom and cupping her breasts which—by the way—were not that big to begin with. Then came the demands for sexual favours.

He started out positively. Now, in this case positively did not he did anything good—it simply meant that he offered to reward her in exchange for sex and romance. He offered her a promotion, a significant pay raise, and several generous benefits that only the bank’s top brass could get. She refused every time.

Paul Ha was—to put it mildly—not good with rejection. After failing to get her into bed with the carrot he—figuratively at leas—brought out the stick. He threatened to fire her from her position if she didn’t sleep with him. He had given her until the Monday to submit to her .

As bad as this was, Donna made it even worse. When Britta went to her for help, instead of putting a stop to her husband’s misconduct, she chewed Britta out. Apparently, she became jealous of the “attention.” Paul was paying to Britta. Donna thought Britta was trying to steal her husband when her husband was trying to wrongly claim her!

Indeed, Donna had also given Britta an ultimatum that would expire on the Monday: end her “romantic relationship” with Paul or be fired. In addition, she would put Bree on the bank’s unofficial blacklist, making it nearly impossible to work in her current field again.

It was a Morton’s fork that would have done Henry VIII proud.

Granted, Britta had been recording these conversations and had tried to document the described misconduct the best she could. However, she was unsure whether it would hold up in court or what would happen if Paul or Donna found her out.

To top everything off her car was being repaired so she had to walk home in the windy environment.

Moreover, she wasn’t nicknamed “Mouse” for nothing. She had been a shy girl ever since childhood and had difficulty advocating for herself or making friends. She was quiet, disliked public speaking, and tended to avoid confrontations whenever possible. She was and is very thin. That lead to another nickname: Brittle Britta.

Her first nickname also had another source: her style of dress. Britta wore noticeable glasses, always had her hair in a thin bun, had a small round face and thin lips. She was, as usual, wearing a professional pinafore dress and black tights that covered her from her waist to the tips of her toes. Of course, you couldn’t get a good view of those tights from the front: thus dress, which was black with burgundy sleeves, extended to her ankles. She also wore black dress shoes. She was also nicknamed mouse because she dressed mousy.

Now this did not necessarily mean that Britta was unattractive. Her current circumstances indicated that at least some men did. Moreover, it was the type of outfit she was most comfortable in. This was especially true of the tights. When she wore them, she felt calm, collected and safe, all other things being equal. In addition, accompanied with the blue jacket she was wearing, the tights helped keep her warm on a windy day like this.

She continued to make her way home, the heels of her shoes making small clacks as she did so. Despite the harshness of the wind, she was glad that it least it wasn’t raining.

She regretted that thought instantly. Sure enough, she heard a thunderclap and the rain began to fall and fall hard. If Britta didn’t find shelter soon, she would be drenched, maybe even catch a cold. That would be an apposite ending to this horrible week.

She took a few more steps and then she saw it: a large red tent. It was an unusual hiding place, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Five seconds later she entered the tent and closed the flap. She saw a swivel chair. Though she found it quite odd, she sat down.

She sighed in relief. She had no idea where the tent had come from but was glad to be out of the rain.

2.

Britta continued to relax in the chair as it continued to pour outside. She heard what she thought was the flap opening.

“My, my,” she heard a husky female voice say. “I usually when I have people over.” She had an Eastern European accent, Britta couldn’t quite place.

“Sorry,” Britta squeaked as jumped at the sound. “I just needed to get out of the rain.”

“I see,” the woman said. “It’s no problem really. My name is Beata, but everybody calls me Madame Vorna and I would prefer to be called that.”

“Alright, Madame Vorna” Britta said, extending her hand. “My name is Britta. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Vorna said shaking it.

For the first time, she got a good view of what Madame Vorna looked like. She was a round woman with European features a purple shawl, thin blonde eyebrows, commanding green eyes that seemed to glow and a small, white, turban on her head, Must be a European custom, Britta thought. Then she realized something.

“I don’t mean to be rude” Britta said. “However, I have to ask: why haven’t I seen you or this tent her before.”

“I pop up where I’m needed,” Vorna explained.

“Well,” Britta asked. “What exactly do you do?”

“I am a fortune-teller, life coach and magician.”

“Really?”

“Really, really,” Vorna confirmed.

“You know Britta,” Vorna began. “Why don’t I tell you your fortune? No charge.”

“Sure,” Britta said after thinking for a moment “Why not?” It was still raining out and it wasn’t like there was anyone waiting for her at home.

She might as well humour the strange woman. Having her fortune read might even be interesting,

“Alright,” Vorna said. She bent down below her table and grabbed something. It was a crystal ball. Britta’s eyes widened in surprise. Then she began to stroke the ball with her fingers.

“Okay Britta,” Madam Vorna began. “All you need to do to know your future is to look into the ball. Put everything else out of your mind except for this ball. Drop all your thoughts, cares, stresses and look into the ball, You will know everything you need to know if you just look into the ball.”

Britta was doing as Madame Vorna told her. The crystal ball was beautiful and bright. Indeed, it was so bright, it looked like it was glowing. No, scratch that, it was glowing. A deep green glow. It looked so inviting and warm. She felt a little lightheaded but was feeling much calmer. She should just look into the crystal ball and everything would be alright.

A minute later, Madame Vorna muttered something in a foreign language Britta did not understand. Suddenly, the glow of the ball shot out. The glow literally enveloped Britta’s body and figuratively enveloped her mind. After about thirty seconds of this, Madame Vorna stroked the crystal and it stopped glowing. It had accomplished its purpose.

Indeed, Britta sat slumped in her chair eyes completely shut. Vorna smiled. When she said that she was a magician. She wasn’t kidding. She was an immortal sorceress, skilled in the arts of magic and intelligence. One of that arts included the power to cast a mind control spell—at least temporarily.

“Britta,” she asked. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes Madam,” Britta whispered softly. “I hear you.”

“How has the crystal ball made you feel?”

“Relaxed, nice, comfortable,” she replied.

“You would do anything to stay this comfortable wouldn’t you?”

“Yes…I would,” she said after a significant pause.

“Doing whatever I say will help you stay this comfortable. Therefore, since you want to stay this comfortable, you must do whatever I say.

Repeat that.”

“If I want to stay this comfortable….” Britta slurred. “I must do whatever you say.”

“Excellent,” Vorna said triumphantly. “Now, Britta, tell me all about yourself.”

3.

Madame Vorna was stunned. When she commanded Britta to tell her all about herself, boy did she. All meant all.

More specifically, she learnt about her recent troubles at work, her timid nature, and her said love life (she had never gone on a proper date, let alone had a boyfriend or girlfriend). The sexual harassment inflicted by her superiors were particularly enraging. Britta said her nickname was “Mouse.” It was easy to see why.

They were currently In Madame Vorna’s underground quarters. As a skilled magician she could conjure up such a place. Madame Vorna usually appeared above ground every so often to help someone in need. Britta would be that person.

Of course, Madame Vorna’s “help” often took a very unusual form.

“Britta,” she said, turning to the entranced woman. “You’ve clearly been pushed around and hurt your entire life. You’ve acted and been treated as a little mouse. I can help you break free from that. Do you want to be much more than a little mouse?”

“Yes Madame,” Britta said after thinking for a moment. “Yes…I do”

“To do this,” she continued you must do as I command. Understood?”

“Yes Madame…understood.”

“Very good,” she complimented. “Now Britta, when I snap my fingers, you will disrobe completely. When you are naked, you will be full of ion and want to make love to me. It will make your courageous and able to stand up for yourself and fight back against those who hurt you. Do it not just for me, but for yourself.”

“Yes Madame,” Britta said as her mistress snapped her fingers. She began by removing her coat and shoes. Then she undid her bun, letting her hair down. Next she untied the back of her dress, letting it fall to the floor and revealing a prim white bra—a nice contrast from her black tights.

Speaking of which, the bra was the next to go revealing small, but still cute breasts. Finally, she removed her tights looking surprisingly sexy as her hosiery hit the floor.

“Leave your glasses on,” Madame Vorna commanded.

“Yes Madame,” Britta replied perfunctorily.

“Now, come and make love to me,” Madame Vorna commanded.

With another “yes madame” Britta sprinted toward the bed and jumped into Madame Vorna’s arms. Vorna—naked herself by now—pulled her in and kissed her. Britta responded slowly and gently. Then she became more ionate, snaking her tongue through her mistress’s mouth. Vorna smiled inwardly. Britta had begun the first step to becoming more courageous.

After a few more minutes of making out, Vorna disengaged. “Britta,” she ordered. “Kiss my breasts.”

“Yes mistress,” she said as she began to lower her head. Then she hesitated. “I…I can’t mistress…” she stammered.

“Yes, you can,” Madame Vorna intoned. “You just need courage. You just need help from your Madame.” Vorna reached over and began to stroke Britta’s hair. “Yes, you just need help from your madame. Do as your madame asks and you will be safe, you will find courage.”

“Yes…Do as madame asks…find courage,” Britta uttered, regaining her composure. Then she buried her head into the full-figured fortune-teller’s

breasts. They were so soft and fleshy. Britta released a series of quick pecks which soon turned to long licks and sucks. She also couldn’t help but nuzzle them, eliciting playful giggles from her Madame.

After a few more minutes, Vorna gave Britta her next command.

“Britta,” she ordered. “Eat me out,”

“Yes Madame,” Britta replied. She slid down to Madame Vorna’s plump, hairy pussy and went to work. Madame Vorna’s magic must have removed her inhibitions because Britta’s licks were filled with ionate intensity. She licked up and down and side to side. She even took the time to stroke its hair. Her madame was groaning in pleasure all the while.

Speaking of which Madame Vorna was now reaching orgasm. A minute or so later, she actually did. She screamed with pleasure as all the juices from her big pussy fall onto Britta’s little face.

Then Vorna rewarded Britta by allowing her to eat the magical woman out.

About 45 minutes—and two sessions of lovemaking—later, Vorna and Britta had redressed—the former used magic to dry the latter’s clothes—and were sitting where they were when they first met.

“Britta,” Vorna commanded. “When I snap my fingers, you will awaken from your trance. You will not anything that has happened here after your fortune was read. You will eagerly use my information and come to visit me when ever I request it (Vorna had given her the information before they redressed). Also, when you ever hear me and only me say the words, “roar, mouse, roar,” you will go back into this trance and do as I say. There is also one more thing. I am now going to give you the courage you need. Listen carefully…”

4.

Britta was on cloud nine. Her life had been on the upswing ever since she had seen Madame Vorna two months ago. She had predicted that Britta would find courage and turn her life around and she did.

First, she was able to catch both Paul and Donna in the misconduct using a tape recorder causing them to be sanctioned by the bank’s board of directors and face significant disciplinary action. Britta then gathered all her evidence and filed a claim with the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal (banks were regulated by the federal government, seeking tens of thousands of dollars. She was also in line for a promotion and more able to advocate for herself.

Indeed, Britta could not be happier, and she had Madame Vorna to thank for it. She had visited her a few times since their first meeting and enjoyed spending time with her, even if she didn’t always exactly what went on. That didn’t matter to Britta though, she would be eternally grateful for help. While Britta might look mousy, she was as courageous as a lion. She was the mouse that roared.