The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Amy walked up to Carla, who with the other party crashers, stood in the drive up, ten feet from the huge pillars and white double doors of Pleasant Hill Funeral Home, otherwise known as the Flock Estate. She heard Carla’s brash and fearless voice over the cold midnight wind.

“He’s probably smoking a “J” and doesn’t want to share! I’m not waiting for that fat f”, Amy cut her friend off.

“Carla, who’s missing?” The tall lanky boy with the dirty black top hat nodded toward Amy, clearly over a foot taller.

“Yo, it’s Greasy Pete Berger. He’s down there at the gate. He’ll be right up.” Tophat took a slow deep drag off his cigarette, watching as the smoke mingled with the thick fog, inches from his long, thin nose. Amy peered down the driveway as far as she could, for the boy with the greasy black hair and multiple piercings. She got two of her ankle high, side zip, black Hi-Tek footsteps toward him, when she heard Carla reply to the auburn haired college student.

“Fine! Go around the back. Be sneaky and cop-like! I’m going in the damned front door!” Carla spun on her one inch chunky heels, stomping up the granite front steps and through the marble pillars.

Kerry turned to her blonde classmate in the denim jacket. “ Patty, maybe one of us should go with her to ensure she stays in the bounds of the law. I’m going around the back and look around. Does anyone want to come with me?” Her eyebrows raised, body poised to begin her investigation of the perimeter.

“Yeah”, spoke up the thin boy with long black hair. His short height and waifish frame, coupled with fishnet stockings for sleeves gave him a feminine quality but he was decidedly all boy inside. He tossed his head, flipping his stringy black hair to the side, and muttered, “I’ll come with you, heh heh.” Kerry rolled her eyes. Patty gave a friendly elbow to Kerry’s ribs. Both smiled to each other, knowingly.

Simultaneously, Kerry and the petite Robert Smith look-alike headed right, around the back, as a brash and fearless Carla turned on her chunky heels toward the front door. Though still wearing only a white short sleeve peasant blouse and tight bellbottoms with dozens of patches on them, she seemed impervious to the intense wind and foggy wet air. Carla seemed simply too spiteful to feel cold, and the thought that someone was having fun at a party to which she had not been invited, fueled her with the flames of righteous indignation. Amy’s voice barely carried the twenty feet between them, through the whistling cemetery wind.

“Wait! You have to take these chiklets! Wendy says you always have to take these, and she’d know right? Here”, she removed the teak lid from a small wood box, and handed what seemed to be a small cube of gum or candy to Patty, Tophat, Carla, and then popped one herself. Kerry and “Smith” were already around the corner of the building. Amy frowned but said a quick prayer to the Goddess for their sakes, and pocketed the box in her dangling yarn cinch-bag.

Carla put the curly blonde waves covering her left ear up against the thick stately door, just below the large brass knocker. Tophat quietly air guitarred just behind her. Amy’s face was full of worry and questions. She gazed up and asked a hushed question to Tophat.

“What song?”

“The Wizard, by Sabbath. Dude, the howling wind, the trees rustling, it’s perfect Sabbath weather.”

Carla sneered a demand for silence. Amy momentarily considered, though she wasn’t sure, that it may indeed be Sabbath weather.

Crashing and clanging was clearly heard through the thick door, followed after a minute, by cheers and laughter. Carla slammed her small hand against the large wooden door several times. She paused then repeated her resonant beckoning. Tophat watched her, and noted the curvy, shiny brass knocker just above Carla’s head. He shot a quick smile to Amy, then in one smooth motion wrapped his fingers around the weighty swinging clapper and rapped it hard nine or ten times quickly, still utilizing his internal rhythm of “The Wizard”. Carla leaped backward and hunched down like a surprised cat. She stamped her foot and prepared to berate the gothy guitarist when the seemingly impenetrable door lurched open with a cracking sound, and some creaking too.

Sir Buzz stood in the doorway. His fellow knights and several peasants were still congratulating him on his defeat of the were cat. He wore his black pants and black long sleeve shirt with the word “Rammstein” on it, and was adorned with a grey plastic crown with colored plastic gems inlaid, and held a plastic “He-Man” toy sword, but he was still the bassist friend of Tophat. He smiled, not quite recognizing the people at the door.

Tophat stepped close enough to touch belt buckles with the goth knight, and began air guitarring, in the manner of their special greeting. Sir Buzz knew as a child he had performed this secret handshake, back in his village. But that was before the war, and the legions of evil had infested the land, and it simply didn’t befit his station now. Since he was engaged to wed Princess Angela, daughter of King Flock, and had proved himself against the hall guardians, he was now His Highness, Prince Buzz. He smiled warmly at the people from his home village, and ushered them quickly inside.

The tall, voluptuous woman with long, black hair, coiled her whip into a tight round of dry leather, resting it in her lap. Her pointed chin worked back and forth, grinding pearly teeth as their owner glared from her black leather recliner.

Two men, both easily mistaken for Olympic swimmers, wearing only black leather dog collars, knelt at her feet, lovingly massaging the toes she had tortured by walking in her black patents with four inch stiletto heel. She addressed her longtime friend and partner in pain, as he received a similar foot treatment from two nude women.

“Max, you haven’t spoken for ten minutes! Don’t tell me she got to you that much!”

Max rested his arm carefully on his vinyl sofa, careful not to rip the upholstery with the sharp steel points protruding from his dangerous leather arm bands. He had been caught deep in thought, and wasn’t ashamed to admit it with a smile.

“I’ve never seen anything like her, Raven, have you?”

“Dozens”, Raven lied. She pointed her right foot so the larger man, the dark skinned bald one, could begin her ritual tongue bath. Max still had to train the two body slaves attending him, telling them what to do, and when. The shorter, Asian girl on his left had said “sorry” so many times that day; he had ordered it to be her name, when she wasn’t answering to Slave. Very few slaves were allowed proper names. Only three had one at that time. “Sorry”, attended Lord Max’s personal needs, and was allowed to tell other slaves what to do, in his service. As such she got to sleep on a mat, instead of the floor. She usually only serviced Max, and sometimes Raven, if Max desired. Raven had a personal slave as well that had pleased her enough to be granted a proper name. The slave was shorter than the bald black slave bathing her right side, of Latin descent, built like a wedge, and had a great smile. Raven had allowed him to pick his name, an amazing thing considering her penchant for cruelty and pain. He could not remember ever having a name, so he chose the name on a cologne bottle he had found in his pocket, back when his memories started, four days ago. Raven smiled down at her favorite, beginning the tongue bath of her left side.

“Very nice, Sebastian.” Max smacked the face of the taller, clumsy female on his right, to get her attention. Raven giggled at her shriek.

“I said, little nibbles! Like a bunny, like a rabbit you useless flesh bag, not like a cud chewing cow!”

“Sorry,, I”, she began an apology but the back of Max’s hand, and two chrome spikes, popped her jaw so hard she found herself on the tiled floor before she knew.

“You were addressing my body slave? Or were you feeling free to let words fall out of your head whenever your mouth opens? Keep your head lower than my ass in this couch, and get out of my sight!” Raven loved when her friend was enraged, he amused her like few could, almost as if they had known each other in another life. For some reason the idea of having been someone else, something else, occasionally popped up, usually when she took her tongue baths, removing her latex lingerie and lying in her recliner. She blinked it away at hearing Max’s frustrated voice.

“See? That’s why she was worthy of giving to Grand Master Teecha! Her little baby girl, “teach me more” crap, and how nothing pissed her off. How I can talk about anything for hours and she makes everything I say sound like a good idea and not sound like she’s just shining me on, and did you see how fast she learned? Hell, once that brown-eyed slave taught her to “sixty-nine”, she did it so well she got off her instructor. They only showed her sexy dance moves for what, ten minutes? She was like she had twenty years of dance classes!” Max got that far away look again, and Raven’s jaw made a popping noise.

The bald slave with rippling shoulders was carefully undoing Raven’s shiny black, plastic corset, when she gripped his throat hard enough for her four sharpened fingernails to puncture his neck a half inch. He groaned. She smiled.

“Not now slave. Finish later. Wash my body slave to practice.” The bald man looked down, sliding away from Raven. The dark-haired Latin man beside her stroked her knee once as he also slid away from his Mistress.

“Yes Mistress, thank you.” The two males slid over to the large gathering of slaves’ bodies, in the center of the room. Some slept, others caressed each other, and others hummed or giggled, or cried. The sky through the open windows had a slightly lighter shade. Morning was only a few hours away.

From the far side of the room, a man stood, clearly seven feet tall. He was massively built, and wore a girdle of sharp spikes, similar to Max’s armbands, but was otherwise naked. His large semi-erection was red, pulsing from recent use. He combed his sweaty, long blonde hair back with his clubby fingers. His eyes met Raven’s and Max’s, and he turned to approach them as they made head nods toward their obvious leader.

Master Teecha snapped his fingers on his right hand. The new blonde slave appeared on her hands and knees, her head caressing Teecha’s thigh. As the Master of the slavers began to walk toward his two best assistants, the curvy blonde attended his leg, moving in feline fashion while deftly avoiding bodies, broken furniture, the fire pit and occasional bones from previous meals, scattered about on the hard tiles. She seemed oblivious of her knees, or else walking on all fours simply did not affect the sensuous, smiling cat-woman.

“Hail, Master Teecha”, Max stated, ignoring the two slaves now bathing his belly and privates. Raven rolled her shoulders back, stretching the latex around her tummy, lifting her chest even farther out than before. Her areolas wrinkled a bit, a slight twinge of excitement as the Slave Lord approached, stopping in between Max’s sofa and Raven’s chair, his back to the open windows. Raven unconsciously licked her lips.

“Good evening Master Teecha.”

Teecha’s right hand petted and stroked the ear and head of the slave-pet beside him, as she sat her butt to the floor.

“This one pleases me. Well done Max. I need a new body slave, since we ate my last one last night as punishment for her escape attempt. This one will serve as my head slave.”

Raven’s jaw slid forward, stretching the tanned, smooth skin of her face into a seemingly painful position. Her heart began to beat in shallow rapid thumps.

Teecha placed his fingertips under the chin of the new body slave, and taking the subtle cue as any experienced dancer may, up stood the slave, her greenish-blue eyes never leaving the gaze of the uncontestable leader of the dozen slave lords, and their multitude of property. She stood casually but straight, calm but attentive, her wide, glossy eyes open, her body devoid of tension, hesitancy or regret. Max addressed the slave he had hoped would have been his own, but he knew better than to cross Master Teecha.

“Well, baby girl, do you understand the great honor you are being given?” The slave girl glanced first to her loving Master for approval to speak, and with his nod she replied, “Yes, sweet, Master Max. This servant is so thankful for all you have taught her. Her great blessings are clearly due to her association with greatness. Isn’t that how it always has been in history?” She batted her eyes, cocking her hip to the side, tilting her head.

“Enough! This makes me sick!” Raven exploded in an emotional fit. Her tall, fit body lunged from her recliner, fingers entwining in the hair of Master Teecha’s new body slave. With a twist of her left wrist, she flooded the dancer-slave’s body with pain, her face twisting with scalp-born white pain. She shrieked in shock, and dropped hard to the tiled floor in a crumpled heap of nakedness. Max’s eyes widened simultaneously with the resounding smack of Teecha’s meaty hand against Raven’s left ear and cheek. The huge muscular man had felled Raven with an afterthought.

“Slave, help Mistress Raven stand.” With flowing, quick reflexes, the dance teacher turned slave student, now slave foreman, slid to the side of Raven. Raven kicked her left foot out, her shiny latex boot heel solidly imprinting its stiletto point in the helpful slave’s forehead. Her hands grabbed her face, but once she saw no blood was pouring from the painful mark, she remembered what she had been taught.

‘Pain is your Master’s gift. You were born with pain, live in pain, and die in pain. Hate pain and hate life. Love life, love others, love yourself. Love pain.’ A quick flash of memory exploded in the prostrate slave. A scene of herself, as a child, in the arms of Momma. A scene of herself on a large stage, thousands of people watching in darkness as she struggled to remember her lines-everything depending on what she would do and say. She remembered her Momma’s words. “Do whatever they tell you like a good girl, and I will see you soon.” She turned her head quickly to check the slightest wish in the face of her new owner, her lover, her lord, her Master.

Teecha had extended his hand, to help his new body servant to stand. Seeing her new Master stooping to help her, she was confused, and yet overcome with affection. Two of her hands could fit in his, as she grasped his thick dense hand. He lifted her body upward with the ease of lifting a child to their feet. She dangled for a second, feet off the ground, and the helpless display of her body for everyone’s pleasure sent a hot-acid rush of sexual arousal through her bloodstream.

She wiggled, twitching in mid-air just enough to elicit a smile from Master Teecha, who reveled in that “fish on a hook” look. Remembering back as far as she could, she realized she had always become nervous when on public display, but had always been uncontrollably aroused by it. Her Master must have known that too, and so was purposely giving his favorite servant a moment of personal pleasure. His new favorite servant smiled, blushing as she became sexually excited. She knew her body was not her own, and never had been. She knew her life’s goal was to serve and please, and so ignoring or hiding her excitement, not making use of it, would be almost a sin. She couldn’t help looking down though, past her taut nipples, at her dangling feet, and smiling. Teecha let her go, and her feet and knees landed autonomically in a plie’. She bowed, putting just a hint of lusty arousal in the casual smile she gave her new Master.

Raven stood clutching her ear, now deaf in it from the tremendous clap she received. She nearly trembled in rage, but hid it as much as possible. Teecha spoke.

“We must trade another slave to the witches of the Basement World. They will get a sacrifice to their Goddess, and we will get more canned peaches and green beans. Who will we give them?”

Max spoke up quickly, to cut off Raven’s obvious answer.

“This useless thing, which desires to bite and can’t learn as simple a task as humming during fellatio. She also talks constantly.” Teecha frowned. His body servant knelt beside him on the ground. She watched as he addressed the thin, tall slave which had once shared with her the many subtle uses for finger nails.

“Very good then. Slave, your sacrifice will nourish our bodies and give happiness to your masters. Stand and obey Mistress Raven.” Teecha then glanced to Raven, with the look a parent gives a disobedient child.

“Raven take this one, and a couple male slaves for protection, and make another food trade with the witches.”

“Of course Teecha. This time I will procure even more than last time.” Raven smiled smugly, hoping to improve her standing with the grand master slave lord. He seemed unaffected.

“And take my body servant with you. Teach her what you do.” Teecha had barely leaned toward his slave before she had stood, pressing her small warm body against his large tree trunk of a leg, sliding her body against him as she rose. He caressed her back, his hand almost as large as her entire butt. She knew to react instinctively, that to do what was desired before it was spoken, was to please masters. Having recently felt the warm strength of his sexual touch, tasted his musky flesh and heard his moans of pleasure, Having seen how spent and content he became after binding her, manipulating her body and her senses, permitting her to take into her his very seed of life, she knew she was destined to become his concubine, childbearer, or even a Mistress like Raven. She shivered a hot, pleasant shiver at the thought, as well as from her Master’s index finger, as it probed between her tensed butt cheeks. A giggle escaped her. She was at ease with his explorations now after their acrobatic lovemaking session minutes previous. She mused, ‘And, after all, he does own this one’s body, right?’

“Slave to my whim, flesh for my use, tell me, have you ever had a proper name, or have you one that pleases you?” Teecha looked stern, and his body servant tried not to act too happy, but every slave knew how special it was to be given a proper name. She remembered back, hours, days, months, years. She reached for long ago, when, as a baby, her momma had cradled her and her aunt Debby had sung her to sleep. She knew she was a big girl now, raised by slaves, a child of slaves, to be a slave. She looked and listened to the voice inside her, and after an eternity, faint scrolling words rolled across the inside of her head, just behind her eyes. The bubbly, obedient body servant spoke them as she read them.

“Find Buzz,,, Angie,,, go play and have fun,,, do what I’m told,,, suck and obey,,, forget and relax,,, be a good girl,,, be,, I’m,,,” She looked up with a startled expression, smiling at her imperial lover.

“Crystal! Master this one’s mother called her Crystal, when she was a baby.” She quickly remembered her place, looking down, relaxing against his hip, her right hand subconsciously stroking her Master’s hanging package.

“Raven, take my body servant Crystal and teach her. Crystal,” Teecha whispered playfully to the young woman which doted absently on his sex parts. She looked up, suddenly aware of what she was doing with her hand. She stopped, straightening up, throwing her shoulders back.

“Yes my Master?”

“Learn well. You won’t need to be shackled like that sacrifice, will you?” Teecha expected pleading, it was usual. Crystal’s light-hearted laughter was not expected.

“My! No Master, why would this one leave, having the best Master one could ask for, to trade for less? Crystal may have no schooling, but she has learned from you many wise things hasn’t she?”

Teecha blushed. Master Max had chained the tall slave’s feet together, and with a kick to her lower back from Raven, the sacrifice headed out the door, with Raven, her two body servants, and Crystal. Aware that she was being watched as she walked through the door, she paused in the doorway to wiggle her butt like a bunny, giggling as she did. Teecha smiled, then saw the cold homicidal stare that Raven gave his slave, and his smile faded to concern.