The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I sat alone in the room with a bottle of scotch and a fistful of regret. I had sent my slave out to get me some things and she disappeared to god knows where. I was getting ready to call another slave in when the door opened. Reaching under the desk, I grab my .3235 expecting the worse. In walked some dame and I immediately relaxed. “Micky Rodriguez,” she asked, trembling slightly. “Yeah, what’s it to you, slave?” I responded bluntly.

“I’m not a slave,” she stated, indicating with her left hand the lack of a slave collar. It was at that point I took it all in. It was obvious from the fact that she was dressed, she was no slave, a rarity in women these days. She wore a conservative pair of shorts that revealed only the slightest sign of pubic hair, another sign of her freedom. Her top reached up to her chest, allowing her breasts to spill out nicely, and her arms were protected by arm-warmers. If religion hadn’t been abolished, I’d say she was some bible-thumping grandmother from the way she was dressed. She was definitely post-pubescent, probably between sixteen and fifty, but its hard-to-tell these days. Her breasts felt almost natural, not genetically-engineered...

“Could you please stop feeling me up?” she asked. “Of course, ma’am,” I responded, returning to my seat and taking my penis out. I began stroking as she told me her story: “Uh, well... Detective Rodriguez. Fourteen days ago, my harem of twelve slaves disappeared for over three days. I used the GPS locaters to track them down to this place in lower Canada, by Cleveland,” she said, trying to see if I was paying attention. I played her game, responding with a quick, “Yes, in Ohio.”

Satisfied, not me yet, but the dame, she continued: “Yes, well, they hadn’t run off, but were in fact kidnapped by this gentleman, a Mr. Jean-Paul Wong. Mr. Wong had been systematically killing some of my slaves, as well as using them for his own sexual pleasure. I sent in my husband to give him a piece of my mind, and...”

“Husband?” I said, incredulously. My god, this dame was a bible-thumper, “You’re married?”

“Uh, yes. I was. As you can tell by my clothing, I come from a very strict upbringing. May I continue?” she gestured to me as I took a quick swig of my whisky. I nodded as I stared at her melons and continued my jerking. “Well then, as I said. My husband, Kwanye, he transposed over there and gave the guy a cease-and-desist. That was the last I saw of him. It seems Mr. Wong had him enslaved and killed.”

“Wait,” I said, calling this lady’s bluff, “you can’t enslave a man unless he signs himself over in a court of law. Is that what you’re saying has happened?” She looked down, amazed that I could keep the cadence going as I questioned her. “Yes, Detective, that’s exactly what happened. Whatever this Mr. Wong is doing, he has complete and utter control over my slaves. I think he’s a mind-taker.”

Shit, I thought, as I blew my load. Wait, did she just say ‘mind-taker?’ I looked up at her eyes as I responded “I find that hard-to-believe, and frankly, I won’t take any of the crackpot cases you’re selling.” I got up, not bothering to address my indecency, as I led the non-slave to the door. “Thank you for your time, Ms., um, I’m sorry I didn’t get your name?”

“Farfignewton,” she said, an obvious smile on her supple lips, which I had noticed for the first time. My eyes widened at the name of the most powerful family this side of Atlantis. She turned quickly, and headed out the door. “Wait!” I yelled after her.

She merely stopped and turned. “I’ll take the case, Ms. Farfignewton. This time next week, I’ll have the mind-taker or my name ain’t Micky!” I smiled as I reached out my hand to shake hers. She simply shook my hand in agreement. As I watched her wipe the gunk off her hand, I couldn’t help but think of how lucrative a case this could be.

Three days had passed, and I had transposed myself to the Cleveland site. I had sent in five of my best, uncontrollable slaves, and sure enough, this Mr. ‘Wong’ had captured them all. As I peered at his commune from my makeshift duck-blind, I overlooked my options. I had fought some pretty nasty guys during my time in the Space Army, but this man takes the cake. A mind-taker in this day and age? It was merely theoretical, the talk of physicists and conspiracy nuts, if there’s a difference between the two. The mind-takers had rearranged the world a thousand years or some junk ago, but common knowledge says they’re all gone.

I hadn’t believed Ms. Farfignewton’s tale, assuming it was just another mind-taker wannabe who used ancient hypnosis, genetic resequencing, or good old-fashioned beat-the-crap-out-of-some-dude, but my surveillance revealed none of those things. My slaves had been taken upon first sight of this man. I thought I lived a gross, degenerate, inhuman lifestyle, but this man. Man, he was my idol. Day-long orgies, weekend outings, heck, even his slaves went out and had sex with other slaves by proxy. I couldn’t stand the occassional violence, but he made it up with his acts of tenderness. Especially with this sweet blonde slave of his, who looked quite inexperienced before he messed with her. I was beginning to regret not having transposed a slave to spend time in the duck blind with me...

Knock

Shit, I thought, pulling out my .3235. This duck-blind was inviso-shielded from the outside world, so the only way someone would knock on that door would be if Mr. Mind-taker down there had ‘telepathized’ my coordinates. I crouched down low, my .3235 aimed directly at the door. As I prepared to pull the trigger, killing whatever was on the other side but not harming the door itself, a woman’s voice was heard.

“Mr. Rodriguez,” she said, almost in a monotonous tone, “Mr. Wong would like to invite you to dinner.”

I laughed at this insane suggestion by some crazy slave. “Sure thing, Toots. Just let me finish my last will and testament before I go off and face Mr. I-kill-my-enemies-with-a-thought. Tell Braino over there that I’m willing to transpose the hell out of here whenever I want, but if he keeps sending broads like you over, well, tell him there’s no such thing as running out of ammunition.” I shot the .3235 out the left-side of the door, hopefully missing the messenger slave, but sending the message that I mean business. I waited several hours as I got my transposition stick ready.

Knock

It had been several hours, and I awoke with a jolt at another knock on the invisible duck-blind. I rolled quickly out of position and shot a warning shot out the left side. “The next one’s aiming at the front door.” I said, lying as I aimed it at the back. “Mr. Rodriguez,” said the female voice once more, coming from the front. Damn, they’re sly.

I turned around in time to here her finish, “Mr. Wong has offered to give you my comfort for the cold evening.” If there’s anything to say about duck-blinds, it’s that they don’t really protect you from the cold weather. But I wasn’t about to play his game, at least, not for a couple minutes. “You may inspect me as thoroughly and as often as you wish. In any way imaginable. I am at your disposal.”

Hot diggity dog, I thought. I mean, I’ve had slaves since before I can remember, but people don’t tend to give out their slaves for free. Sure, I’ve gotten a bit in lieu of payment, but that was never really how I liked to do business. I decided to amuse my benevolent benefactor and opened the door, ready for a quick transposition out of any ambush he had planned.

The shielding had surrounded the girl before I opened the door, so I knew it’d be only her coming in. As soon as she walked in, I shot with her the .3235, quickly fixing the settings to paralyze her. She slumped down, banging her head on my chamberpot and creating quite the mess.

The dame awoke slowly. I had spent the last half-hour doing slave-work by cleaning up the mess from the chamberpot. It still reeked, but that was unavoidable. This naked bimbo that the mind-taker sent me was just some stupid blonde, but I recognized her as Mr. Wong’s favorite slave. I wonder if his cursory glance at my mind revealed my attraction to her in particular. She felt her forehead, still nauseated from the .3235, and noticed the bandage I threw over her head wound. “Thank you, kind master,” was her only response to me shooting her.

I sighed. “You know why you’re here, and I know why you’re here, so get sucking!” I ordered, pointing to my exposed penis. She nodded mutely as she went down and I closed my eyes.

Shit, I thought, as I blew my load. What if the plan is to ambush me while I get sucked off? I kicked the sweet girl off me as I gripped my .3235 tighter and peered toward the window. I was thinking of transpositioning myself outta here, with the girl of course, but knew Ms. Farfignewton wasn’t interested in some teenage-to-forty-something-year-old blonde. She wanted this mind-taker that killed her husband, and I guess some slaves too. If I had a wife, I’d understand. But then again, if I had a wife, I’d be bat-shit insane.

I pointed the gun at the blonde who was trying to re-wrap her own bandage. “Okay toots, what can you tell me about Jean-Paul Wong?” I nudged her hand away from the bandage.

“Mr. Wong is my true master, he has sent me to look after you for the night with the intention of persuading you to visit him. He believes you share his ideals and would like to ally with you.” I shot her in the leg, numbing it for a couple hours. “Nice try, but if he shares my ideals, then that crazy mo-fo won’t ally with anybody. Now, what is the plan? I’ll remind you that this sweet baby of mine is pointing straight at your head, and you won’t wake up from this setting!” I said, adjusting the .3235.

“Please, just let me go! Mr. Wong has plans to ambush you if you do not cooperate. He’ll kill me regardless!” I sighed, pointing lower, and was about to pull the trigger when I thought Wait a sec, what am I doing?

“Okay, toots, you win. I’m not going to see your beloved benefactor, but we’re going to transpose out of here.” I laughed. Her eye’s widened wider than the Mississippi Gulfstream, “What?!” She said, as I grabbed her arm and squeezed my transposition stick. I left a nice little nuclear grenade in my wake. No more Mr. Wong, or any of his other slaves to deal with. Or Cleveland for that matter. The death toll was catastrophic, and I might have some ‘splaining to do with my higher-ups, but at least I got a sweet-looking blonde out of the deal, even if I have to fudge the paperwork again.

I immediately transposed to my office with the girl. “Well that was fun. Lie down over there,” I said, pointing to one of the extra office beds, “I’ll see when you I’m done.” I clicked the speed-button on my intercom, directing me straight to Ms. Farfignewton. “Ms. Farfignewton. I’ve killed Mr. Wong and his slaves. I’ll be awaiting your payment and personal thanks in my office,” was the message I left.

As I sat down, I heard her transpose in front of my door, and she knocked. “Come in,” I said, looking at the nude slave who was still trembling from having her master and fellow slaves killed in nuclear fire. The buxom socialite walked in, wearing less-than-usual, probably from some social gathering. She smiled at me, but when she turned, her jaw dropped right through the floor as she recognized the bimbo in the corner.

“Debbie!” she said in utter shock and both of our confusion.

Debbie, who I gather is the blonde, replied slyly, walking up despite my order and giving the rich lady a close kiss on the lips. I soaked it all in, even though Ms. Farfignewton wasn’t very appreciative. “How are you, mother?” asked Debbie to the woman that was apparently her mother now. I guess I wasn’t a very good detective afterall.

Ms. Farfignewton turned to me as I was once more stroking at the sight of these two women and yelled, “You have to get me out of here. Quickly!” I was confused by this statement, and responded: “Listen, sweet toots, I’m not your slave, and...”

“I’ll handle this, Michael,” Debbie said, interrupting me. I immediately quieted down and removed my hand from my penis. “Mother, Michael here is going to kill you after all you have done to me over the years. I thank you for the genes to become a mind-taker, and I am going to use them to my advantage, without you, or father, holding me back anymore.”

I was confused. I had seen this nude woman with Mr. Wong these past three weeks, but she was the mind-taker the entire time? And does she seriously expect me to kill the source of my retirement plan. I ignored this notion as I reached for my .3235, changed the setting to maximum, aimed it at Ms. Farfignewton, and pulled the trigger. Okay, I guess her plan worked.

“Thank you, Michael,” said the stupid bimbo as she sat in my now-empty desk chair. She pointed downward, “Now get sucking!”

I happily obliged my new lord and master.