The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The intercom buzzed. Languidly she reached over towards it and pressed the button. The ministration of the girl’s lips between her legs continued. The well practised tongue burrowed slowly, gently, away at her pussy.

“Speak,” she announced towards the intercom.

A woman’s voice replied. Hesitant. “Mistress, “ the voice began, “the acquisition team has returned with the female subject.” Recognised the voice of her chief of security. Special dispensation allowed to disturb her in her regular nightly relaxation session.

“Very good. Did the acquisition go smoothly?”

“Yes Mistress. The acquisition team report that they encountered no difficulties and implemented the specified plan successfully.”

“Excellent. Is the subject still docile?”

“Yes Mistress, the subject is still sedated.”

“Good, have her taken to the conversion chamber and see that slavenine is summoned to attend. I shall be there shortly.”

“Yes Mistress.”

She lay back on the bed and allowed her thoughts to drift with the gentle tempo being kept up by slavesixteen. Good. That meant that there were no problems with the latest recruit to her service.

Quite simple. The woman had been collected at her apartment by her squad of specially trained slaves; fit, strong women well able to subdue any resistance, not that there would be. A few days beforehand they had gained access to the apartment and installed gas canisters and surveillance equipment in the bedroom. Once the unsuspecting girl had gone to bed alone the sedative gas was released and then it was a simple matter to transport the sedated girl over and clean up any traces of their presence. In the meantime, another slave took her car and an appropriate unclaimed body, supplied by connections in the city morgue, and arranged a suitable accident which should allow the girl to disappear without questions being raised.

A smile creased her finely formed features as she stared languidly at the ceiling thinking of the times ahead.

She entered the chamber. A large room packed full of electronic equipment designed specifically for this one purpose. Three other figures stood in the room as well as another, naked, ebony coloured, female strapped into a large reclining chair. Her eyes turned to the line of women, all standing at rigid attention in her presence. The two acquisition slaves were still dressed in jeans and sweatshirts so as not to arouse suspicion, while slavenine was dressed more appropriately, as befitted her position.

Smiling, she turned to one of the muscular slaves and stared into one woman’s blue eyes. It was possible to physically sense the intensity of the adoration in the gaze of the unblinking blue eyes that met her own.

“So slavetwenty, you have completed your task well tonight,” she grinned. It was always amusing to see her slaves dressed in outdoor clothes; it was fun to recall the obscure, fresh faces of her latest recruits when they arrived, before they were transformed into Her property.

“Yes Mistress,” slavetwenty replied evenly. The slave’s eyes never wavered from her stare.

“I am pleased with your performance tonight. I’m pleased with all of the acquisition slaves who participated in this task tonight.”

The woman’s body quivered slightly.

“Yes Mistress,” slavetwenty replied again, a distinct hint of pleasure clearly audible in her voice.

She smiled again. “Good. You and slaveseven can return to your quarters, where you will be rewarded.”

“Yes Mistress,” the slave answered again in a quavering voice. The two clothed slaves turned and marched out of the room.

Mistress turned her attention to the remaining slave. An older woman, in her late thirties, but still very attractive in all respects. She was dressed in a glossy white single piece bodysuit made of some sort of shiny vinyl like material, matching white long gloves and long black thigh boots with heels at least 5 inches high. Around her neck was a massive collar that reached up to her ears but was tapered at the front to hold her chin in a more comfortable position, although it was impossible for her to turn her head to either side. On the front of the collar was a large number nine picked out in white, which contrasted nicely with the hard black shine. The slave stood ready, patiently awaiting command from her absolute Mistress.

It had not always been so. Dr Anne Sjursen, an academic genius supported by a miserable research grant had been easily tempted by the promise of money and power to assist her in her plans. She had proved herself to be quite ruthless as well as a excellent innovator in developing the brainwashing process that had been instrumental in the acquisition of those two elements. However, the good doctor had overreached herself in trying to get rid of her partner. Academic genius she might be, but as far as plotting was concerned she had proven to be quite the amateur. Her mistake was in assuming that she had installed failsafes into her brainwashed subjects so that they would not pose a threat to her personally, but she had not foreseen that her plan to seize control had a flaw, in that it allowed them to obey commands that did not pose a threat to Anne. So one of Anne’s former students, Michelle, who gladly assisted in the programming process after the she had undergone it herself, had patiently taught her Mistress the basics of the intricate computer programming that they had developed; the multi layered elements and sequences that constituted the core programming instilled into the brainwashed subject’s mind. Removing Anne’s failsafe’s from the code had been complicated but she had managed it. Then it was a simple matter to re-brainwash the slaves and Anne’s fate was sealed.

That was over seven years ago. Simple brainwashing had ensured Anne’s loyalty and also unleashed all of her creative genius which was now more productively employed on her work rather than clumsy plotting. Through her efforts they had made huge advances in the scope and effectiveness of their brainwashing techniques. But as Mistress, she had wanted more. Total, utter obedience. So Anne had started developing a new, more insidious process designed to permanently erase the memories, personality and former existence of the subject and transform them into empty minded zombies that readily absorbed their fanatical programming. Eight attempts had produced better and better results, while Anne had eagerly modified the process for use on herself, so that her useful skills would remain while the rest of her memories were erased, and became the creature that stood before her Mistress as slavenine.

“Are all the preparations ready?” she asked.

“Yes Mistress,” the familiar voice of the former doctor responded. “The subject is still under sedation from the acquisition. I have administered appropriate levels of hypnotic drugs designed to render the subject pliable and reduce resistance to slave processing.”

“Good. Run the standard induction first. I haven’t quite decided quite what to do with my latest addition yet. Let me know when she’s finished and I will come and see her.”

“Yes Mistress,” her driven slave responded eagerly, relishing the task ahead.

Once Mistress had left, slavenine shuddered slightly in anticipation of the task that would consume so much time over the days ahead. Slavenine, with Mistress’ permission, had been programmed to become aroused during the time she was tasked with creating new slaves and her twisted slave mind yearned for these delights.

To transform this useless heap of flesh and blood into a totally subservient slave for Mistress was what slavenine lived for.

Slowly it got lighter. Dimly aware of light beyond her heavy eyelids. Brightness spreading. Slowly becoming aware, regaining consciousness. She felt as if she was swimming through a sea of fog, dimly starting to make headway through the cloying soup that engulfed her consciousness.

She had a splitting headache. It throbbed dully. Slowly she was coming round. Her mind was beginning to work now and realised that her body was seated on some sort of chair. The warm material felt warm against her skin, as if she had been sitting there for a long time, but yet there was no rush to change her position. All she had to do was sit there and let the fog slowly lift. There was no rush.

Voices from the outside penetrated the syrup that were her thoughts. Her mind couldn’t decipher the words and just registered a dull murmur outside, but close to her. But there was no need to be concerned. The voices sounded reassuring. Soothing to hear the murmur of people talking yet not being party to the conversation. It felt familiar somehow, didn’t it, but it was nothing to worry about. Of that she was somehow sure. She felt so relaxed.

“Ah, you’re awake,” a woman’s voice cheerfully exclaimed. She blinked a couple of times, adjusting to the bright light after the darkness. Dimly, her brain slowly processed the scene that met her eyes.

The woman was only a few feet away, in her thirties or so by the look of her, pretty with long golden curls and dressed in a deep crimson silk robe. A broad, inviting smile creased her face baring icy white perfect teeth, while a pair of intelligent eyes of the deepest blue colour she had ever seen, probed her own befuddled gaze.

“Don’t worry Chloe. You’re probably still feeling a bit woozy at the moment. That’s just the effect of the drugs but they should wear off soon,” the woman purred softly.

Instinctively, she attempted to nod in reply but couldn’t. That was when she suddenly became aware of the restraints tightly bound around her forehead, under her breasts, arms and legs which pinned her to whatever she was reclining on. In another moment, Chloe’s brain registered, with mild shock, that she was in fact naked as well as restrained.

A look of panic swept across the finely formed features of the young captive’s face.

The woman saw this and broadened her smile adding in the same soothing tone, “Everything’s all right Chloe, no one will harm you. Just lie back and try not to move.”

She felt the hard bands of metal biting into her wrists as she feebly attempted to extricate her arms from the bonds. Useless of course. A puny effort, but a natural instinct to escape.

“You cannot escape Chloe,” the woman went on. “The drugs you have been given have rendered you quite placid as well as scrambling your ability to think properly.”

Her mouth opened slowly, but no sound came out. Tried to verbalise what she thought. Her lips moved slowly, mouthing the words her brain wanted to say but no noise was produced from her vocal chords. The woman was getting closer now. Standing over her.

“Shhh,” the woman continued, “Don’t try to speak my pet. That will come in time.”

Suddenly a wave of exhaustion engulfed her mind. She felt her eyes droop closed slowly. Her body relaxed. She no longer attempted to fight the hard restraints. She no longer attempted to speak to her mysterious captor. Suddenly her head felt so heavy. Like lead. Her muscles were no longer capable of supporting it’s tremendous weight and it slowly lolled forward slightly, resting against the tight band around her forehead.

The woman was right against her now. She felt the strands of golden hair brush against her bare right shoulder as the woman leaned in close to her while the soft, gentle hiss of her breathing seemed to stroke the skin on her neck. She was whispering into her ear now. She listened. She was tired. So very tired, but yet somehow she listened to what this woman said to her.

“You are mine now Chloe. I am your world from now on. I’m going to take everything away from you that you hold dear and make you mine for the rest of your life.” Her dazed mind attempted to register the impact of these words. What kind of madness was this?

“You are an impressive creature Chloe, an intelligent girl, a fighter who raised herself up from poverty through hard work and intelligence to get a scholarship and then a well paid job in a top accountancy firm. I appreciate those skills of yours. It shows how determined you are.”

“But you still haven’t forgotten you roots have you Chloe, your parents who you send money to and your younger brother who you worry so much about. Well I am not so cruel. I regard it as my duty, my part of the bargain so to speak, to compensate those left behind for their loss and my gain. So, your parents will benefit from a large life insurance policy that you fortuitously made just before your untimely accident and live out their days in financial security. Your employer, in a sudden magnanimous fit of generosity has provided an endowment for your brother so he can get off the streets and receive a decent education in a private school where he should get a good start in life.”

A pause.

“I may appear cruel to you Chloe, but I take my responsibilities seriously. I like to look after those who serve me.”

Her spinning mind attempted to take in this barrage of information. Her parents. Her baby brother.

Tears slowly trickled down her cheeks.

So much pain.

What had happened to her?

Why was this woman telling her these things?

Unable to wipe them away, the tears fell slowly from her chin, dripping off into the void.

Slavenine watched as the scene unfolded. Mistress had finished with the bound slave to be and had turned to face slavenine. Slavenine instinctively straightened herself even more stiffly under the gaze of it’s absolute owner. Mistress smiled again with obvious pleasure.

“You may begin the next stage on this one my slave,” she purred in delight, leaving the naked black girl behind strapped into the chair as she briskly marched towards the exit.

“Yes Mistress,” slavenine responded evenly. A slight shudder was repressed with difficulty.

“I will be with slavetwelve for the rest of the evening doing the monthly accounts. I haven’t decided just yet what particular skills my latest pet should possess so let me know when she’s ready for programming.”

“Yes Mistress.”

Mistress had left the room. Slavenine relaxed ever so slightly. A spasm of excitement coursed through her body as she regarded the fresh subject to be conditioned by her hands.

First things first. Slavenine wheeled the trolley over towards the semi-concious Chloe and set to work. Deftly and skilfully she adjusted the equipment and set about mounting it on the tangled hair of the girl’s head. Her eyelids flickered open momentarily as she felt the weight of the equipment being secured to her skull, but they closed again as she returned to slumbering semi-conciousness. Slavenine calibrated her invention carefully, The metal dome, made up of a latticed framework of shiny steel, with dozens of tiny wires protruding inwards into the skin of Chloe’s crown was tightened to the metal restraint of the chair ensuring a secure fit. Wires ran from the dome towards the central control station nearby. With the flick of a switch at the rear of the dome, a small light turned green indicating that all was ready. Slavenine turned and approached the control station.

One last visual inspection of the subject before slavenine punched the sequence of keys that brought the monitors on the control panel to life. Data from the sensors streamed in that was processed by the computer model that she had worked so long to perfect. The subject was in a highly suggestible state, rendered that way by the cocktail of sedatives and hypnotic drugs. Another series of keys and the displays changed.

Slavenine reached down with her left hand. Felt the zip beneath her legs and tugged it open, releasing her snatch from the vinyl casing that bound the rest of her. Gently she began to tease herself. Slavenine determinedly depressed the final button of the sequence. A slight smile crept over the vinyl clad slave as the dome began the evil work it was designed to perform.

The displays were encouraging. The carefully directed pulses were designed to sever the myriad of neural linkages that held together a lifetime of memories and emotions were doing their work, destroying the subject’s past forever. At the end of the process, Chloe’s memories would still remain in her head, but by interfering with the natural bio-chemical and bio-electronic circuitry of her brain, her ability to access these memories would have been destroyed for the rest of her life.

Slavenine’s left hand, steadily, rhythmically teased her dripping cunt. The bright colours of the display screens slavenine was so intently monitoring, were traced over every contour of the shapely form encased within the white vinyl.

Slavenine kept up the steady, constant teasing with her well practised hand.

Slavenine’s eyes scanned the display readouts, searching for anomalies, potential problems, pitfalls. There were none. The software had been completely tested now. A few difficulties has arisen at the beginning but to be expected with all new inventions. The main problem was how to differentiate between linkages that led to useless memories and thought incompatible with slavery and those linkages that led to useful learned skills which also appeared as memories but did not threaten the slave’s new role.

Two attempts had resulted in disaster. Michelle had been enthusiastic volunteer for the new process and they hadn’t need to drug or restrain her. She’d eagerly gone to this very chair shuddering with barely suppressed ecstasy as the doctor had lowered the prototype dome over her head and begun the process. What had emerged was drooling lump of meat. Because all memories, including basic language skills had been erased, it meant that it was impossible for Michelle’s mind to respond to the reprogramming process which depended on a certain basic framework of retained knowledge to build upon. But lessons had been learned and improvements made so that now it was a simple matter to make sure that only the incompatible sections of the subject’s brain were rendered inoperative.

Slavenine’s stared intently at the displays. Slavenine’s mind was totally empty of all thought save completing the task she had been instructed to perform by her Mistress.

The figures were up. A steady increase in revenue being generated by a number of projects she had devised. Firstly there were the donations made by her brainwashed followers, steadily, unobtrusively busying themselves in their ordinary places of work while donating a substantial part of their income to their secret Mistress. This was the original method she and Anne had used to generate cash from their new invention, and it certainly had provided a boost for further expansion. At the same time, the advantages of having insiders able to do her bidding within a whole range of organisations meant that it was possible to tailor certain business deals in such a way that the outcome would be very profitable for her bank balance. And her accountants, where Chloe had so recently been employed, ensured that the authorities were kept happy and in the dark about her financial affairs.

She looked up from the summary report. The full, detailed analysis, a neatly typed and presented foolscap binder, lay on the table unread. Years ago she used to check through the whole lot every time, but now, because it had become so complicated and the entries were so cryptic, she usually just put her trust in slavetwelve’s precision and read the summary. The backbone of the successful self-employed businesswoman was to have a good accountant and a good lawyer. Everything else looked after itself.

Casually threw her glance over to slavetwelve, who stood rigidly to attention beside the table. The petite girl had not moved. She would not move until instructed by her absolute Mistress.

“Very good slavetwelve. Impeccable as always,” she announced breezily.

“Yes Mistress,” her slave girl replied in a flat monotone, hiding the growing warmth that was spreading from within after hearing Mistress’ praise.

She smiled. Slavetwelve was always very good at appearing calm when praised. It amused her to see how each of her slaves reacted. Despite being wiped clean and turned into her living zombies, each slave still displayed subtle remnants of permissible individuality. She could have had slavenine work on the programming so that even these were made uniform but as they were of no harm and did not pose a threat, why bother wasting time and energy on fixing something that wasn’t broken. In fact, she found it quite endearing. Sometimes, it reminded her of the pet rabbits she had kept during her childhood.

“Excellent slavetwelve,” she laughed. “You never cease to amuse me.”

The vinyl clad slave continued to stare blankly into her eyes.

“I permit you to come now,” she grinned, watching as slavetwelve sunk to her knees, body gasping with pleasure as one of her hands began stimulating her crotch.

The intercom buzzed. Looked away from her moaning slave and pressed the button.

“Speak,” she commanded.

“Mistress, slavenine reports that the subject in the conversion chamber has successfully completed the neural reformatting procedure. Slavenine awaits further command.”

“Excellent. Have slavenine install standard slave programming as well as my fetish and bondage protocols.”

“At once Mistress,” the voice responded before the intercom went silent.

Raising herself up from the chair she walked over to the exit, passing slavetwelve who was back on her feet, her expressionless face reddened through her exertions. Her heeled boots clattered loudly on the tiled floor as she made her way down the long corridor of the large stately home she had purchased. An elevator at the end of the corridor brought her down to the specially constructed basement level where she kept her less legal activities concealed from whatever visitors might appear at the upper levels.

Turning left from the elevator brought her to another long white tiled corridor with regularly spaced openings on either side with glossy black doors emblazoned with a large, bold, white number. Finally she approached a door. Freshly painted, the white digits of the number 27 sparkled in the fluorescent lighting. She paused momentarily, admiring the latest decoration, before entering the small room,

Small it certainly was; just a bit longer than the length of the black vinyl mattress and just wide enough for the necessary equipment. Hearing somebody enter the room, the kneeling slave looked around. Registering the presence of her owner the girl abandoned the wires she was threading into the metal equipment beneath the mattress and stood proudly to attention, arms stiffly by her sides, chest thrust outwards. A tool belt, containing various gadgetry was the only item of clothing that disrupted the erotic effect that the smooth, red bodysuit, contoured to her shapely, curvaceous form produced. Apart from the bodysuit, the slave also wore a pair of knee high black heeled boots and a standard black slave collar containing the number seventeen.

“Report slaveseventeen,” she commanded.

The young Asian woman spoke clearly, calmly. “Preparations are almost complete for the newly acquired slave Mistress. The neural interface equipment has been installed and is now being wired to the central control computer.”

She glanced over at the vacant bed. Instead of a pillow, there was a slightly raised, padded section, clearly designed to hold a human head which was lined with various metallic devices which would encircle the rear portion of the sleeper’s head.

“Good. I’m sure my new pet will appreciate the efforts you have made on her behalf slaveseventeen,” she quipped.

“You may continue with your task slave.”

“Yes Mistress,” the erect drone replied.

Casually leaning against the door frame, she watched idly as the slave returned to her knees and began the seemingly complicated task of connecting the various coloured wires trailing from the plain metal box under the headrest to a large wall socket which would link it to a central control point.

Slavenine’s genius at work again. The process had evolved so much now that it was actually quite difficult for her to follow all the detailed minutiae of exactly what did what but the opportunity to bombard the sleeping brain’s flat, receptive, theta waves with programming was not one to be ignored.

There would be no chance for Chloe to escape the continual brainwashing that would accompany her existence for the rest of her life.

The subject’s eyes were open now. Wide, deep, dark brown pools of emptiness that gazed into the abyss. The dome had performed it’s task well, as it always did. Everything that had once defined the subject as Chloe Waterhouse was gone.

Just an empty vessel ready to be refilled.

The brown eyes looked at her. The girl had sensed the movement, nothing more.

There was nothing behind that gaze.

No fear.

No curiosity.

No anticipation.

Yet.

Slavenine set to work again wheeling over yet another metal trolley. The doe eyes of the placid, drooling woman strapped to the chair followed the slave’s every move. She watched as the white woman knelt between her splayed legs. A slight instinctive moan as her body felt the intrusion between her legs and her muscles tightened around the hardness inside her body.

The white woman was standing again now. She had more shiny metal things in her hands which she started to attach over her head again. Something made her eyes grow dimmer. It was no longer so easy to see the white figure. Then it was quiet. No noise.

The white woman was walking away from her now. She strode purposefully towards the bank of screens and displays. The woman was looking at the shining screens, pressing buttons.

A small puddle of drool had collected under her chin. Chloe didn’t care.

Now things began to happen.

Colours filled Chloe’s eyes.

Noises assailed her hearing.

The intruder buried inside her began to swell.

The white woman was standing by the console again, operating the controls one handed. The other hand was between her white legs.

Now Chloe no longer noticed her.

Chloe was gone.

“Enter,” she barked. The door opened inwards and two female figures entered the classically decorated, book lined study. She glanced up from the soft couch she was sprawled upon and placed the interesting book, that had transported her into the world of the eighteenth century Grand Tour for so long, down on the antique mahogany table beside her. The two women had adopted identical erect stances and stood side by side. The new entrants did not speak.

Her eyes ran over the chocolate coloured form of the naked woman alongside slavenine. The woman’s long, thick dark hair was now brushed tightly back and gathered by a thick black band at the top of her head. The naked woman stood completely still, arms stiffly by her sides, head held high, her small, pert chest thrust forward, erect nipples standing proud under her inspecting gaze.

The pair of dark brown eyes stared forward. They did not waver for an instant.

“Well, well, what have we here,” she mused as she got off the couch and approached her two slaves. Gently she reached out and caressed the left nipple. It was as if the naked girl had been given an electric shock the way the ripple of pure, blinding ecstasy ran through the tautly coiled slave’s body. The dazzling bliss of being touched by her Mistress. The brown eyes still stared forward, never moving from hers.

“So my pretty one, did you enjoy becoming my slave?” she inquired lightly.

The voice that replied was struggling hard to remain calm, on the brink of an unimaginable explosion of sheer pleasure.

“Yes Mistress,” the quivering voice managed to reply.

She smiled again at her new slave. “Good, I thought you might be more appreciative now. I intend to enjoy you slavetwentyseven.”

Another visible shudder through the erect slave as her mind tasted the delight of being addressed for the first time by her true name.

“Slavenine, the collar please,” she ordered, while maintaining her gaze into those adoring eyes.

Movement to her side. Reluctantly she tore herself away and glanced towards the vinyl bound slave standing to her side, offering reverentially, a tray towards her Mistress. On the tray was a black collar, the sign of belonging. Gently she felt the hard, stiff material of the collar between her fingers. The number 27 was slightly raised where it had been worked into the hard material of the collar. Surprisingly heavy to lift.

“This is the symbol of your final submission to my service,” she informed the adoring eyes. “Everything that you once were is gone. All you are is mine. Slavetwentyseven has no past, no memories, no thoughts other than those I permit. The family of Chloe Waterhouse does not exist. The new slavetwentyseven’s family only consists of her sister slaves and her Mistress.”

With almost superhuman effort, the shaking form of the entranced drone barely maintained her stance.

“Slavetwentyseven will wear my collar for the rest of her life.”

Rivulets of wetness snaked down the girl’s legs.

“Kneel and be collared slavetwentyseven.”

With a whimper, the slave sank to her knees before the supreme deity that every fibre of her body had been conditioned to obey.

The collar slid over the glistening, sweat drenched skin of the slave’s neck. The body shivered even more at the touch. The collar slowly got tighter and tighter, pressing against her chin, forcing the trembling head into position. Then there was a clearly audible click. The collar was locked tight.

The black, unyielding band encircled the girl’s neck forever.

She smiled and took one pace backwards from the body of her latest acquisition, that still knelt twitching in spasmodic ecstasy.

The white number against the black collar gleamed in the light of the room.

“You look well slavetwentyseven,” she announced towards the brown eyes.

“Your Mistress permits you to come now slavetwentyseven.”