The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Docility Trigger

Chapter 4 — Turmoil

My thighs are kind of sore, but I am used to walking after having the brains fucked out of me. I am a sex toy after all. I’d like to say I am more than all the busty bimbos going around, proud of how pretty and obedient they are. But even with my true memories unlocked, the truth is I am still like them.

My first life, from my birth in the ruins of an ancient library to my ascent to Providence, is hazy and hollow. I know I used to sprint between settlements faster than a horse ever could, but I just don’t remember what it felt like. On the other hand, my second life, however pieced together from thousands of thought fragments, feels very much real.

I absent-mindedly readjust my hair and dress all the time. When a man looks at me, I puff my chest up and open my lips. I can’t act indifferent to avoid drawing attention; my emotions are so strong, it pours into my expression and body language. Anyone could look at me and think me shallow and airheaded, constantly flustered by girly feelings. They’d be right.

Trying to use magic or even pick up a men’s magazine is more shameful than I can bear. I feel my mind being constantly pulled towards being proper and obedient. I caught myself turning to the Mother when the inner turmoil became really bad. I am hungry, but every luxury meal I can think of just feels like a drab necessity. The only meal I truly desire is cum. Even my vocabulary has changed. Every faced of who I am fits the pleasure girl profile to a T.

When I think of the last year, of me being such a sweet pet to men, I feel nothing but comfort. I want this life spent on my back, this naïve and childish personality to sicken and disgust me. Instead, it is inviting and desirable. Why can’t I be soft and nice and feel good? Native Providence girls do not deal with such a demon within themselves, why do I have to? Things are easy when you’re a good girl. I wish the next wonderful Man could fuck Staz out of my mind so I can be silly and happy ag...

Raaargh! Just thinking about Elizabeth threw me squarely inside her mindset again! Why is this conditioning so fucking powerful?! The Mother help me, if my train of thought takes a wrong turn somewhere, I’m totally going to convince myself I should stay Elizabeth forever. That’s how deeply indoctrinated I am. I spent a year without a single disobedient thought, and now I feel like the true me is just an irrelevant echo compared to Elizabeth. Pleasure, peace of mind, the stronger education, even survival. She has all the fucking arguments. All I have is a truth that barely has any weight.

Yeah...It’s a fucking addiction, and at the center of it is the need to be fucked. I never really noticed it before now, because I thought it was natural. But now that I try to rebel against my new nature, I realize just how much of a sex-crazed bimbo they made me. My pussy is dripping again this soon after having sex, and even thinking about how horrible my situation is makes me hornier still.

Realizing I wasn’t a normal woman, but rather a brainwashed sex slave would have been a call to action...If I wasn’t designed to find submission crazy hot! So I don’t calm down. I can’t. My very predicament is making me all hot and bothered. The more I struggle, the more horny I become. I want a man to take me and force me to cry that I’m a good girl. I cum a little just at the idea of being claimed as a wife and mind-wiped. I want to taste delicious cum, and the only reason I haven’t forcibly stripped down a man and blown him is because I will never grow up the guts to do such a disobedient act.

I am Elizabeth alright. I am still as much of a horny and docile little pet as I was this morning. I realized I didn’t belong here, but I have not changed. My values, my feelings and my needs are still those of the pleasure girl who awaited each client-master with euphoria. The faulty choker lets me challenge who I am, but doesn’t let me go against it. Fuck. Doctor Abel’s experiment is a glowing success. He didn’t transform me. He truly reeducated me.

Oh well...At least I can think now. And I won’t have any trouble pretending I’m still under control. Maybe...Maybe I can deprogram myself. I’m a luxury whore, so I do have some autonomy. Yeah. I can’t panic just because slavery’s in my nature now. I’ll think of a plan. Somehow.

But right now I need to have sex. Being a naughty girl is driving me up the fucking wall. And so, licking my lips, I start walking towards the nearest pub.

* * *

Hm. Weird. Why did I think that place was seedy? It’s a clean, folksy place with pretty nice decoration. And I’m not saying that as a Wasteling, either. For all the slavery I endure, I do live in some form of civilization. Then again, I just loved being shocked when I was Elizabeth. I treasured vulnerability, for the Mother’s sake. No wonder a pub that’s not even out of my posh district gives me vapors.

Anyway, there are plenty of sexy men who can help sate my slut needs. I won’t even have to flirt. One of the hunks will pick me eventually so he can down his pint in amicable company. I’ll be fondle and fingered and hmmm...I’m biting my lower lip and staring at the ceiling just thinking about it. I wish I could curb my libido, goddamn.

I sit down in a sofa and look at the bustling establishment. Plenty of customers have already found their dolls. Silly, girly moans fill the smokey air, not one intelligible word between them. Here, Men talk between themselves, and it is tradition to kiss a woman when she starts running her mouth. Maybe that’s why there are more women from the popular districts than there are local, classy dolls. It’s very much a Man’s world, baby. One of the bunnies has a vapid smile on her garishly painted fake lips. Our eyes meet. She looks impressed. I’m exactly as much of a slave as she is, yet I probably seem like a noble Lady to her.

Shit. The very thought is fucked up as hell, but it is true. By Providence standards, I’m provided for, educated, respected. I am not seen as a sex slave, but as a courtesan. My Master even treats my apartment like I own it, for the Mother’s sake! I might not be paid, but appearances are kept. Meanwhile, this girl with the whore lips...The Teachers probably didn’t even bother indoctrinating her. They just made her permanently in heat and dimmed her mind until she stopped resisting it. She’s just a pet, easy to make and easy to fuck. I visited lower Providence. Down there, the Men don’t wait for sex before talking dirty.

“Aaah...” I think out loud. “Is there even any point in this?”

Just looking at the poor floozy lifts my heart.

I turn away from the dismal sight and ogle the Men. And by the Mother, they’re all so sexy! This is a result of my reeducation, of course. One major class in my—fake!—late teenage years was an endless slideshow of various men. That lesson is conducted in a special room, where the girls sit in special chairs. With a combination of nipple pumps and big vibrators in my ass and pussy, I was brought to a wonderful orgasm looking at each and every man.

I was repulsed by some of them at first, but my choker read those disobedient thoughts and progressively learned to nip them in the bud. I was left only with the ugly Man and physical pleasure, and my indoctrinated brain had no choice but to start fancying him. We could only graduate from this class until we could no longer tell what an unattractive man looks like. And thus, even now that my mind is free, my tastes in Men are set in stone. Once again, just being aware of my programming doesn’t mean I can ignore it. Every Man is handsome. Whether I like it or not, that is my truth.

Being surrounded by beauty makes Elizabeth try to return. Although I want her to be nothing but an alien entity in my mind, she is really an integral part of who I am now. Her thoughts are mine, as are her desires and beliefs. Being forbidden to remember anything for a year doesn’t change that I reveled in my subservience. There’s little point in even calling her in the third person, really. I’m not Staz as much as I am Elizabeth with an identity crisis. But I have to pretend I’m Staz. Otherwise, I’ll just become my true self again and be done with this freedom balderdash.

I should give up, anyway...I never asked for this turmoil, I just want to please Men. Anytime now, a handsome Man will pick me, I will feel his strength and warmth, and my naughty slut mind will be turned to mush again. I will feel cute and soft and this turmoil will be nothing but a bad memory. Yes. That’s what I want, deep down. No...no it isn’t Elizabeth you fucking slut! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!

I hide my face in shame. I’m so far past fucked. What do they even need the fucking choker for? With this shitshow of an education, you can shove freedom right in our faces and we’ll run, squealing, for the nearest pimp. I can see myself in just a few days, free from the control device yet servicing a cock with delight, more deeply contented by my enslavement than ever before. I don’t want to let go of this newfound freedom, yet I desire the comfort and pleasure of submission even more.

“Hello again, Lady Elizabeth. You seem troubled.”

I open my fingers to look at who just addressed me. A bearded, aging Man of stout build. Oh fuck. I know him. Professor Eugene Wardell. We had several one night stands. He is a surprisingly good lover, despite being some master egghead working on the school’s misogynist doctrine. And guess what, he fucking loves to analyze and reinforce my constructed persona.

My pussy throbs, and an excited sigh forces its way out of my lungs. I remember our past escapades. Prof Wardell is going to take me to my room and go over all the reasons why I should be obedient. I loved those post graduation classes for enlightening my silly girly mind. At an absolute loss as to what to do, I fall back on my instincts. Unfortunately, the only instinct I have left is submission.

“Oh yes, Professor Sir! I’m having bad thoughts...”

My voice dies down, but the damage is already done. He smiles. There’s no way he’s not giving me the full course now.

“Are you, dear? Well, we should get somewhere private then...”

Fuck. That. Noise. I was trying to clear my head by getting a good fuck only to find that deep down, I just want to give up and obey. And now this asshole shows up AND Elizabeth spills the beans?! This guy was able to turn my submissive beliefs into fucking fervor, for the Mother’s sake! This is a setup, isn’t it? He knows who I really am. He paid the Doctor to screw up my choker. He wants to rebuild my indoctrination from the ground up. And if he’s not, I’m the most preposterously unlucky rebel in history.

To think I was overjoyed to break free from Elizabeth. Turns out I didn’t even last a day. By the time I go to sleep, I’ll sing my education’s praises. And worse...Trying to wriggle out of this will only make it worse.

“...Yes, Sir. Lead the way.”

At least I’ll be happy again.

* * *