The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The attack had come as a surprise. Suddenly, Laura Jones found herself trying desperately to get to the hospital, clutching her arm. From out of nowhere someone had come, injecting her with something and dashing off.

The doctors managed to remove the needle, which had broken off in her arm, but could find no trace of whatever had been injected into her. Blood samples came up nill. Likewise for CAT scans and MRIs. It was postulated that someone had just been trying to scare her. She went home more than a little worried. There was an odd smell about the house. Gas, she thought, before her world went black.

Her unknown attacker walked into the house and pressed something against her head. There was a slight hissing sound, and he wiped a little drop of blood off where the injury had taken place. Then he waited until she awoke.

“That stuff I injected you with was one-half of a binary compound.” the man said. “The other half I sprayed into your house. It was only designed to knock you out and lower your immune response to the device I implanted in you.”

“But why?” Laura asked. The stranger pressed a button on his watch. Laura’s world dissolved in a raging sea of pleasure. She had never felt anything like it before. She was in heaven, blissfully drowning in the ultimate orgasm. And then it was gone. It hurt to be without the ecstacy. She begged for more.

“You won’t be getting any more until you do something for me.” the man said.

“What?”

“Suck my cock.”

“Are you crazy?” Laura demanded, livid. The man moved to put the remote away. “Wait! Okay, I’ll do it.” The man smiled, undoing his pants. Choking down her own disgust, Laura took the stranger’s penis in her mouth. She tasted something salty on her tongue and didn’t want to know what it was. She moved forward until the cock was at the back of her mouth and then started pulling back. He shoved himself down her throat. She gagged, she couldn’t breathe.

“Use your tongue, bitch.” the man commanded. Laura moved her tongue, pleasing this man by trial and error...mostly error. But finally he finished, nearly choking her with his jizz. “You call that a blowjob?” he snarled. “I’ve had better from a Hoover wet-dry vac.” He slipped the remote into his pocket, despite Laura’s pleading. She was begging like a junkie desperate for a fix. “If you want more, bitch, you’d better learn to suck your master’s cock like a good little slave.” Laura bowed her head. She was addicted to the pleasure-box after only one hit, and now her life was in the hands of a cruel and evil man. But she would do anything to have that pleasure again, so she went down on him again as soon as she caught her breath. They remained in her living room until dawn, and Laura had a buzz from not getting enough oxygen. Finally, he deemed that she had gotten it right, and withdrew the device from his pocket. She cried joyously just at the sight of it. “I’m not going to zap you while you’ve got your clothes on.” he said. Laura couldn’t get her clothes off fast enough. She went down on him again to see if that would persuade him to zap her. After yet another load of seed, his thumb touched the button, but only for a few seconds. She was already begging for more when she opened her eyes. “You want another one?”

“Yes, sir.” Laura replied, using her most respectful tone.

“Here’s your second lesson, bitch.” the man snarled. “Whoever holds this box is your master. Not ‘sir,’ or ‘Mr. something-or-other’. Master. Understand?”

“Yes, Master.” Laura replied.

“Turn around.” Laura complied, and the stranger shoved his penis up her ass. And thus it went for the next four days. He fed her so she wouldn’t starve to death, and continued her “training.” She lost count of how many times she was had. In every hole, in every position. In less than a week, the corporate headhunter who had been Laura Jones ceased to exist, and in her place knelt a fawningly servile slut who was addicted to the kiss of a little box no bigger than a kazoo. She was trained in every method of pleasuring a man, trained to answer only to the name Slave and never again to her birth name, and trained to show her devotion to whoever held the box in the most degrading ways possible. In two weeks, she was ready. Her Master wrapped her in a blanket so she couldn’t be recognized and carried her to a waiting car.

The four sides of her box fell away, and Slave stood there, wearing only a red bow which was quickly removed by someone she didn’t know. Slave’s eyes never left the Box as it was passed from the hands of her trainer to her new Master, a balding, fat man with a handlebar mustache. He smelled funny, his face was scary. But he held the Box. He was Master. She obeyed without question. When Master told her to suck his cock, she did so eagerly. There was a sudden noise, and Master stood up suddenly, sending Slave sprawling. Master’s hands went up, holding the Box. A policewoman took it away from him and had him hauled off in cuffs. But Slave didn’t care. She served someone else now.

“Mistress?” she asked, looking submissively up at the policewoman.