The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Prologue

Blink.

Cotton filled Gwendolyn’s mouth as she swam towards consciousness. Her eyes fluttered open and took in her surroundings. The cobwebs in her mind dissipated quickly as she grasped the depth of her predicament. A metal programming helmet hovered over her head like the Sword of Damocles.

A slaver.

Technology had caught up to fantasy about twenty years ago; slavers sprang to virulent life as a result. Men and women preying on others for sexual fulfillment. The shapely brown-haired girl strapped nude to the gleaming metal lab table understood that better than most. Gwendolyn had spent her graduate career studying the cultural mindset of these people.

She was an expert on the history of the slaver movement, and that was her only hope now.

“Helloooo?”

Her voice echoed through the sterile room. She knew that most slavers craved moments of resistance and ultimate submission. That, more than any sexual release, was the key to their fetish and the reason why they constantly needed to acquire more victims. Gwendolyn prayed that if she could play on that trait and offer endless moments of resistance; she could save her own identity.

A woman’s voice sounded over the intercom, “petling, it’s useless to struggle – you’ll be a simple drone soon enough.” She sounded firm and distant – almost as if she was bored with her power.

A chill swept over Gwendolyn at that, but she held fast to her idea. “Mistress, please a moment. I’m…I’m a storyteller.” The woman on the table gained a bit of confidence as she continued, “I’ve studied the old archives from the fantasy days – I know all of the old stories. Mistress, I’ll submit willingly to you and share that knowledge with you – if I can keep my mind.”

Silence hung the air between them. The empty spaces filling up in a tide of possibilities and consideration.

The electronic squawk of the intercom brushed away the moment. “petling, you intrigue me. Tell me some tales, and I’ll consider your request.”

Gwendolyn exhaled sharply and composed herself as she began her first story…

Set That Sun, Part I (mc) by Frustrated

I was supposed to rush over at the opportune moment and say the right words as the wind howled and the rain thrummed and drummed. I was to stand, panting and barefoot, one rough, sandy heel rubbing at the other knee, on the doorstep. You were supposed to proclaim my beauty, touch my hip, my neck, my lips, my breast. I gaze in wonder at you because you’re so much more than what I could ever have expected. You’re what I dreamed.

But instead of passion so loud the neighbors complain and I just say, “Yeah, you know it was that good,” and not even care; nothing. Friendship. We sit cross-legged on your temporary, squeaking mattress and eat peanuts, conversing. We’ve been friends so long but have never met.

Instead of mute fire, quiet understanding splashed and bathed in love, we have this. Because you’re just alone and I’m just lonely.

So I sit and crunch salt, and I long to set that sun in your eyes. Bring up the stars and their mute observation, culling my words on how to do things right.

In Concert (mc, ff) by flibinite

“GIMME YOUR HANDS!”

I stared, transfixed, so fortunate to get a front row position at her concert tonight. The show had been terrific... emotional and exciting, once again proving to me why Jennifer Douglas was my favorite singer and performer of all time.

The lights were on her, and the crowd was on its feet for her encore song... David Bowie’s “Rock ‘n Roll Suicide”. Their massed enthusiasm pressed me up to the stage, where Jennifer was singing and swaying her arms back and forth over her head, as were all of us.

“CAUSE YOUR WONDERFUL, WONDERFUL... WONDERFUL, WONDERFUL, OH-OH-YEAH... YOU’RE JUST WONDERFUL...”

Her back-up band was really pounding now, the saxophonist wailing, her singers moaning, “Oh, oh, oh...” over and over again. I found myself actually moaning, too, as she moved closer, her black, sequined catsuit hugging her so tightly, her blue eyes ablaze, her long, blond hair making a wonderful, sweaty mess around her face and on her shoulders. She was on one knee now, moving along the edge of the stage, reaching out to slap and grasp some of our hands...

“GIMME YOUR HANDS!”

She took mine... held it... staring and smiling and singing to me...

“CAUSE YOUR WONDERFUL, WONDERFUL... WONDERFUL, WONDERFUL, OH-OH-YEAH...”

She didn’t let mine go. I couldn’t let hers go. It felt like my brain was exploding with white light, melting and bubbling. I couldn’t be sure, but I think I came; I think I spontaneously orgasmed, standing there swaying, moaning, holding Jennifer’s hand, the white light in my eviscerated mind seeming to pulse out of me and surround her in brilliant aura.

Suddenly I knew, without question, that there was nothing in the world I wouldn’t do for her.

I vaguely saw her catch a stagehand’s attention, and point to me. Then she moved back from the edge, rising up to finish her song, and the concert.

“YOU’RE WONDERFUL, BABY!” she cried out to us all, waving her arms and starting to bow.

The band ran it out, the drummer started crashing the huge gong behind him, and everyone just started screaming, especially me. It was almost like torture to see her walk offstage, to disappear from my sight. I barely even noticed when the stagehand jumped down and wrapped his arms around my waist.

“Miss Douglas would like to see you backstage,” he yelled in my ear. “Come with me.”

And, knowing to a certainty what I must do for her backstage, and for as long as she wanted, I did... again.

I couldn’t tell about him.

Set That Sun, Part II (mc) by Frustrated

I am here for you. I sit, ripe. Leaning forward, leaning back. I stretch myself into more shapes than I thought I made, ice-blue-knuckled in wanting. My fingerprints want to abandon ship and spelunk your pores.

I reach over too far. I lay on my stomach and gaze up through your bangs. My hair makes a poor curtain. Can I do nothing to draw your eyes? My body is full, is run through with desire. Desire for you, only you, always you, paradoxically you.

Why do you listen to my words, ponder my meanings, chuckle when I laugh? It is the witching hour, dream time. Did you not say that I am your fantasy? I guess you didn’t know me then.

Let’s have this deep conversation proportionately deep under covers and sheets, sated from introductions too long in coming.

If I reach out, will you laugh? If I kiss, will you slap? Will you shove if I caress, shout if I confess? But please, make the punishment fit only the offered crime.

Breathe deep. Just breathe. Breathe as I breathe, sigh as I sigh. Your muscles soften and loosen over your core.

The Adventures of thrall—Part II: thrall’s day out (mc, fd, ff) by Alei

thrall glided through the shoppers at the mall, smiling as she remembered Mistress’s instructions and her training for this task. The training had indeed been exquisite, but training really hadn’t been a necessity... thrall loved shopping for Mistress.

Yes, shopping... shopping for something very special; so special that thrall had been given clothes to wear... slutty, outlandishly revealing clothes... but clothes, nonetheless. thrall quivered under the entranced gaze of so many as she moved through the crowd. Shocked, outraged, interested, disbelieving... all their reactions mixing into the perfect cocktail of excitement, and the far-off echoes of shame that still coursed through thrall’s mind.

Still, as enjoyable as all this attention might be, it was thrall’s job to be inconspicuous. So, as thrall approached the place where her “item” was located, thrall gently nudged the minds around her, masking thrall’s presence until thrall was of no interest to anyone. This was another useful aspect of the implant that thrall had developed, back when thrall was as these women were now.

Back before Mistress.

A pang of regret slowly filtered through thrall’s mind, as the echo of a memory sifted through her consciousness. It was a memory of a time when she had frequented this place for more mundane purposes... for clothing, for books, for toys for the kids... so many useless things for which thrall had no use now. Still, thrall loved to shop. But today, she was shopping for an item the people around her would never contemplate. Something special.

Careful to mask her presence, thrall approached the store where such items were always on full display... the Excelsior Cafe. Looking around quickly, thrall noticed many other such intriguing items. Several of the hostesses and young professional patrons here would certainly be items of interest to Mistress. But with a pang of regret, thrall remembered that she was here to acquire a very specific and valuable one.

Entering the cafe, she spotted what she was looking for... a very well-dressed older woman—blonde, well-proportioned, and beautiful in a sophisticated way—sitting and chatting with a group of similar women, all of varying degrees of attractiveness.

Slowly, thrall approached the group, feeling the tingle of her implant as she delicately moved through the women’s minds like a silent thief in the night, subtly, quietly shifting through thought after thought, exchanging one desire for another. Like gently mixing music, bringing out one variant and quieting another, thrall probed and prodded. Such a thing had to be done with skill, as the mind tended to return to normal patterns if left unreinforced, or if the change were clumsily done.

Satisfied with her handiwork, thrall approached the women, letting them perceive her clearly for the first time as she did so.

“Hello. Mrs. Carolyn Pitts?” thrall intoned seductively.

All of the women turned their gaze toward thrall in shock and amazement. It was plain to see that thrall’s appearance and manner were not what they expected in a place such as this, and that their sudden awareness of her had taken them by surprise. thrall’s tall, blonde “item”, however, was the first of the group to recover. That was to be excepted, as she was the most powerful and wealthy of the group, the leader of sorts.

“Yes, what do you want?” she said in a suspicious, but still civil, voice.

“I am thrall, and I am here to begin your training, Mrs. Pitts,” thrall said pleasantly.

“Training? What are you talking about?” the perplexed and somewhat annoyed executive asked. “I certainly haven’t arranged for any training, and certainly not from someone... well... like you.”

“Oh no, Mrs. Pitts,” said thrall with a slight smirk. “The training has been arranged by someone else and I’m afraid I really must insist. Now please be a good girl and stand up for me.”

A protest formed over the blonde’s face as she began to respond to this outrage, but it was a protest that died on her lips as, much to her amazement and that of her friends, she reluctantly rose from the table.

“What the hell is this!” she said in a frightened voice. “I didn’t want to do that. What the fuck is going on here?”

“I’m calling the manager,” said one of her well-dressed friends, raising her hand.

“I don’t believe you are, Ms. Danner,” said thrall in a soothing voice as she sifted through the buxom brunette’s thoughts, the tingle from her implant making her entire body shiver. “No... what is going to happen is that I’m going to leave this place with Mrs. Pitts and you are going to do nothing at all. You all have much more interesting things to do anyway, don’t you?”

The women at the table just stared at thrall with something amounting to fright, as the unnaturally proportioned blonde concentrated and slipped their minds just a little farther toward where thrall needed them to be. It was, thrall admitted, delicious to see these powerful women struggle to do something, to do anything to save their friend from this unexpected menace, to see them struggle... and fail.

“You can’t do anything of the sort,” said another of the ladies, a busty redhead. “Carolyn is our friend, and I don’t know what you’re doing to us, but as soon as you’re gone we’re going to call the police. You’ll never get away with this.”

“Oh my... I just love it when a woman makes such a powerful statement,” thrall said with a smile. “And I do believe you. But I honestly think you’re going to have better things to do in a few seconds. For example, I believe that each of you is simply dying to lick and finger each other’s sweet assholes... am I right?”

thrall watched with satisfaction as the women in front of her began to shift uncomfortably in their seats, each looking at the others in amazement and confusion. It was simply delicious to watch as thoughts these ladies had never imagined burrowed deep within their minds, the process unfolding on their faces, the old battling with the new.

“Oh yes. I can see it so clearly. In fact, I believe the more you think about Carolyn, the more you yearn to have your tongues and fingers buried between each other’s sweet ass cheeks, and the more the idea of cumming and screaming with one of your friend’s tongues squirming in your ass becomes an uncontrollable desire. And, of course, Carolyn is a good friend, so I know you will be thinking of her quite a bit.”

“In fact, I believe that simply thinking about telling anyone, anything about what has happened here, turns each of you into such an uncontrollable ass slut that the mere thought of it creates the need to find one of your friends and fuck her hard in the ass. Isn’t that right?”

Looking around the table, thrall could see the results of her handiwork, as even now some of the women were sliding their hands under their neighbor’s asses, their eyes wide with shock, horror and unbelievable desire.

“I believe there is a hotel across the street, ladies. You’d best hurry.” thrall smirked as she took the tall blonde’s hand and began to guide her from the table.

“I don’t know what you did back there, but they will have the police on you before you leave the mall,” said the blonde executive confidently as she followed thrall. “You can’t just do this to people, it’s not possible.”

thrall looked over her shoulder as she and her acquisition watched one of the women, a petite oriental, throw down a number of bills on the table. Watched as the women all stared at each other in a moment of naked confusion and desire. Watched a they all gathered their purses and walked quickly out of the restaurant.

Only one, the brunette, looked at Carolyn as she left.

“I’m sorry,” she said, the effort sending visages of need across her face. A look turning to pure horror as her hand suddenly wrapped around her, and soundly slapped her own ass. “Oh god... I’m such an ass slut... I can’t help it, Carolyn... I’m sorry!”

With that, the sophisticated, well-dressed brunette rushed out of the restaurant, one hand pulling up her skirt as the other slapped her ass, running to catch up with her friends. As thrall and her acquisition watched, they saw the ladies head for the mall exit... the one closest to the hotel.

“thrall believes they may well try to help you, Mrs. Pitts,” said thrall in an expectant, eager voice. “thrall certainly hopes so, thrall simply loves to harvest ass sluts.”

Turning to her Mistress’s newest “purchase”, thrall examined her carefully before securing Carolyn’s training collar around the woman’s neck. The powerful executive watched in despair and horror as her friends moved quickly away, as she felt the first true tingles of Mistress’s power.

thrall examined Mistress’s item careful as the Carolyn’s breasts heaved enticingly in fear, her hair and makeup so perfect her image so proud and enticing. thrall approved. This one would be interesting to train, indeed.

Yes... thrall loved to shop.

Who doesn’t?

Set That Sun, Part III (mc) by Frustrated

Repeat your triggers, darling. Softly; repetition makes them stick. Tacked, not just taped, down deep. Dive, repeat. Stroke, repeat. Down to the drain. Repeat without breathing chlorine. Feel the water pressure; nature wants you down here, gravity, it’s so natural. No other state exists. Repeat.

Repeat as I attend you gently. Even at bursting depth, you know my attention signifies importance. You feel the difference. I attend softly, mixing education with pleasure; a dewy drop of honey for my starry-eyed cher.

My starling sleeps, awakes confused. He trills a note. My hushed reply sets him back to thrumming with the ethereal vibrations. I send a rocket word chasing into space. He stares, he smiles, he falls into position.

I leap lightly to the doorstep. Ratty little, ratty old dormitory cell. I speak the right words. He sweeps me into his corded arms and to his bed. It is just wide enough.

Springs like rivers washed by rain, creaking.

Savior

by LRP

She stands over me, helping me to my feet. I stumble, feet heavy from drugs and exhaustion. Smiling gently she holds me steady and with her free hand points to the doorway.

“Can you walk?” she asks. I nod dumbly, and try to hold my footing.

Her voice is soft and gentle, so different from the cold hardness of the floor and the bitter taste of loneliness that have been my sole companions for the past... god I don’t know... all the drugs have made it fuzzy and hard to be sure, but it must have been a long time.

She helps me towards the door, her arm around my waist giving support, and I am ashamed to feel, a bit of a tingle in my nether regions. Must be the lingering drugs in my system, still, it takes the edge off, and I snuggle a little closer and hope she doesn’t notice.

If she does, she’s kind enough not to show it. We make it out the door and start off down a corridor, finally putting the room that has been my prison for who knows how long behind us. I don’t know how long I’d been in there, drugged into a horny stupor, constantly bombarded with images of lesbian pornography of every variety, ranging from coy soft-core to shameless hardcore, always thrusting licking bucking moaning wet hot lust pushing against my eyes and my thighs sighing gasping needing.

I shiver as I realise that my free hand was caressing my naked sex and pull it away quickly. My savior remains oblivious to my condition as she remains focused on the end of the corridor. Unlike me, this gentle mystery woman is wearing some sort of fetish catgirl outfit, leather boots and latex gloves, complete with ears and a collar with a gently tinkling bell that jiggles between her breasts.

I feel myself staring at her breasts, her exposed soft mounds of tender warm flesh so soft and good to stroke and touch... I pull my eyes away and shiver, which only serves in making her snuggle closer against me, the poor thing thinks I am cold in my nakedness, when my whole body is aflame with unnatural lusts.

I whimper slightly, as the arm across her shoulder brushes against one of her nipples, erect and just begging for attention. I try to battle off the images of me pulling her against me and taking the swollen buds into my mouth and licking them over and over and over, only just succeeding, as I realise how strong she must be to remain so focused on that door. I marvel at her will, and we continue down the corridor.

Three near collapses of will later, we are at the door, she struggles to open it one handed, but its obvious she can’t do it and hold me up at the same time. I pull away from her with some difficulty, more because of how soft and warm she is than my difficulty walking, and I try to help with the door. Her eyes widen but she doesn’t stop me, and together, we pry the hatch open.

I slump back against her and she pulls me against her, the motion causing her breasts to press against my own and I shiver again, welcoming her pressing closer to me as my mind once more swims with slutty steaming images of desire that are not my own. She holds me close as we clear the doorway and step into a clearing. The sound of alarms rings out, and in my haze of lust and drugs I think I hear the crackle of flames in the background, but the garden we are standing in seems to wash away this with its serene beauty.

In the centre of the opening was a blossoming cherry tree. I’d heard people speak of the enchanting image of these trees but I’d never encountered it, and honestly, I had doubted their claims, but standing before it myself, I suddenly understood what they were talking about. Maybe it was the drugs, maybe it was the conditioning that had been worming through my mind, or perhaps the warmth radiating from the young woman beside me, or a mix of all three, but I found myself feeling serene and calm.

We make our way over to the tree, and my savior sets me down under its branches before looking around to get her bearings. I, however, was utterly enraptured with this young thing’s pert and inviting ass, hanging in front of me so invitingly. Shivering again images wash over me, so calm and horny, I can’t resist, and my fingers slide into my dripping slit as I unabashedly masturbate to the visions in my mind.

My glazed eyes flicker upwards as I realise she is looking right back at me, her own hands mirroring my own. I finally release a moan that has been building in me since I first lay eyes upon her, and I cup my breast, tweaking and teasing as I continue to slide my fingers slick and drenched inside me. She turns and steps close to me again, her eyes as glazed with lust as my own.

“What is your name little one?” she asks me, as my eyes follow her fingers path playing against her cleft.

“Melissa...” I stammer as she plunges into herself.

“Melissa, what a pretty name...” she slides in and out, and I do too “would you please lick me?” she moans softly, and my mind collapses in on itself. If we give into our lust now we may never escape, but that no longer matters to me, as the cherry blossoms fall I reach out to run my tongue along her, lapping her nectar. I wasn’t a lesbian before I came here, but that’s not important now, it’s so beautiful just licking and kissing and feeling my brain melt out between my legs.

Frantically flicking my clit, I feel her spasm as she orgasms loudly, I am so close, and hearing her moan my name in the throws of passion triggers a desire to do the same.

“What... do I call you?” I ask her between moans.

She bends down and breathes soft warm air against my neck, I shiver, and moments later gasp in shock and desire as I feel a thick strip of leather wraps around my neck.

“You will call me Mistress.” she states, as the collar, now gone from her neck jingles around mine.

“...Mistress” I moan and cum.