The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

She sat at a corner booth, reading, her head slightly inclined, twirling her strawberry hair to give herself a slightly distracted air, her body posture making her seem relaxed, a slight smile on her face to suggest humor and approachability. Natalie had attracting men down to an art. Now all she needed was to find one that looked interesting.

“Slut.” someone said behind her. Natalie turned, glaring at the young man.

“Excuse me?” she snapped.

“You heard me.” the stranger said. “I’ve watched you for a long time. You come in here and put yourself on display, waiting to land yourself a man, then you drain him of his assets until he’s not only broke, but deeply in debt, and then you toss him aside like a cigarette butt and come back here for another.”

“Everyone has something they do well.” Natalie said with a wicked little smile. “You might as well scold a spider for walking into an ant den for her meals.”

“Really?” the youth asked. “I’ve always thought of you as more of a tapeworm.” Natalie glared at him.

“Just who do you think you are, anyway?” she snarled.

“Clark Deighton, and no, I’m not available.”

“A vow of celibacy?” she asked. “Surely you can’t be involved with anyone?”

“As a matter of fact, I have a beautiful girlfriend who loves me very much.” Clark said.

“Then what are you doing here?” Natalie asked.

“Watching.” Clark replied. “I find the observation of dysfunctional mating habits most amusing. Particularly the little parasites who hitch rides on other beings, totally convinced of their own superiority as they sleep their way through their short, pointless lives.” Natalie had a sudden vision of herself crawling around on segmented legs. She shook the image out of her head, wondering where it had come from.

“So how do you do it?” she asked.

“One thing is certain, I don’t sit on the end of a blade of grass waiting for a victim to blunder by.”

“Excuse me, miss.” the bartender said, tapping her on the shoulder. “The young gentleman at table five sent this over.” Natalie glanced over to where the bartender indicated, and saw a towheaded college student in designer clothes giving her the eye. She accepted the drink and was going to give a sneer to her strange critic when she noticed his chair was empty. Clark Deighton was gone. No matter. Natalie flipped her long, gorgeous hair and flashed her new victim a bright smile. The image of herself as a parasitic arthropod returned, stronger this time, and this time it brought a sudden wave of self-loathing. She took a deep, cleansing breath, and plunged ahead with her routine.

She stopped in her tracks as she was about to enter the towheaded youth’s apartment. There was another woman there.

“Who’s that?” she asked.

“My girlfriend.” the youth replied. “You’re going to pleasure us both.”

“I’m not bi.” she snarled.

“Yes you are.” the youth replied, and Natalie found herself becoming aroused by the supple curves of the young woman.

“I get her first, love.” the young woman replied. “I’m Krissy. We’re going to be great friends.” Krissy pulled Natalie into the bedroom and ripped off her dress. “You’ll do, sweetheart.” Krissy said. “Your clothes are on the chair.” Krissy ripped off Natalie’s underwear, too. “Put the jewelry in the shoebox on the nightstand. They mess up the effect.” Confused as much by her arousal as by the whole situation, Natalie found herself complying. The “costume” was actually a pair of form-hugging tights which were open in the crotch and the back, sort of a golden color, lighter on the underbelly. Instead of hiding her breasts, the outfit put them on a shelf to be displayed. There was also a quintet of dog-collars she was required to wear, one large enough to fit around her neck, which caused a small orgasm to ripple through her body, the others small, obviously meant for wrists and ankles. The velcro, tufted tail adhered to the costume only just above her anus. Fake nails followed that, as did a tawny, cat’s-ears headband. She followed the written instructions for the application of her makeup, and looked at herself in the mirror. She was a cat-girl, a lioness. Krissy emerged from her walk-in closet dressed in a crotchless jumpsuit, boots with positively obscene heels, and a whip. Natalie shivered with another mini-orgasm as the whip cracked. “Down, Shiba!” Krissy commanded, her stern glare stating that she would tolerate no disobedience. Natalie hesitated, and the whip cracked millimeters from her nipple, sending pain and pleasure through her without truly wounding her. Natalie went down on all fours. “Now we shall see who is mistress in this room.” She curled her fingers in a beckoning motion, her eyes daring. Natalie dared, pouncing, fake claws bared as she roared defiance of the lion-tamer. A swift judo-move snatched her out of the air and sent her to the plush carpet, knocking Natalie’s breath out of her. A lash of the whip cracked the air next to Natalie’s clit, giving her another pleasure-pain jolt.

“Please, I...” Another whiplash silenced her.

“Animals can’t talk!” Krissy snapped. Snarling, Natalie rolled to hands and feet, leaping forward and clawing at the face before her. Krissy was faster, however, pinning her down and pinching one nipple fiercely. “You will learn obedience.” Krissy assured the young woman. A strike across the face stunned her long enough for Krissy to lever her to the bed. Her arms and legs were placed in odd positions. Her eyes were closed, her chin raised. She felt Krissy’s hand rubbing her belly.

Natalie felt her legs being repositioned, and was able to open her eyes. The way she hurt, she must have been in that position for quite some time. Her head hurt. She was thirsty. She was hungry.

“Down, Shiba.” Krissy’s voice commanded. Natalie rolled to all fours and crawled down to the floor. “Lie down, Shiba.” Natalie tucked her arms and legs beneath her and put her chin on the ground. “Roll over, Shiba.” Krissy commanded. Natalie rolled to her back. A whip-crack brought her fully around. “Sit up, Shiba.” Natalie managed to comply, but it was difficult with her sore legs. “Forward, Shiba.” Natalie complied, planting her hands in the spot on the floor where Krissy pointed. A whip-crack brought Natalie another mini-orgasm and she was presented with Krisy’s wet snatch. Tentatively, Natalie began to lick, but a second whip-crack forced her to be less timid. She lapped at the wetness within the blooming rose before her, surprising herself at her own pleasure. She wanted badly to touch herself, to bring herself to a stronger climax, but her hands would not obey her commands. Krissy exploded on Natalie’s face, flopping back into the recliner. Natalie began to clean herself in cat-fashion, loving the taste of Krissy’s come on her paws.

Paws? Natalie thought. Hands! I’m a human! Humans have hands, not paws. I don’t have paws! I don’t have paws! I don’t I don’t I don’t! No way is anyone going to tell me I have hands...PAWS! Shit, why am I thinking like this?

“It’s feeding time.” Krissy said. A two-basin bowl was brought into view. Natalie wanted to protest, but her stomach gurgled. Rather than risk her food being withdrawn, she ate quickly. The food consisted of chopped ham and cold chili. The water tasted funny, and her head buzzed as she began to clean herself. Krissy patted her head, causing Natalie to look up. The woman held Natalie’s head in her hands, which helped slow the spinning of the room. Krissy spoke to her, telling her how to be a good kitty. Natalie blinked, trying to clear her vision. She couldn’t think, her head buzzed too much. She struggled to remain conscious, to listen to Krissy, but her eyes kept getting heavier and resisted her most valient attempts to keep them open.

Shiba awoke curled up in a large cat-bed. Blinking to clear the sleep from her eyes, she stretched and yawned, then cleaned herself. She paused when she saw her paws. Her coloring was different. As she continued to clean herself, she saw that she was no longer a lioness, but a jellicle. She heard voices and crawled out of bed. Approaching a human male, she rubbed herself against him, purring, and received an affectionate pat in return. He sat in the easy chair and unbuckled his belt, unzipped his fly and unbuttoned his blue jeans. Shiba knew precisely what had to be done with the penis that emerged. She took it into her mouth and began to suckle, her mind filled with pleasant thoughts of nursing. She suckled until her mouth was filled with fluid, then swallowed every drop and began to clean herself. The human patted her head affectionately and clicked a leash on her collar. She followed tamely, his command overriding the general order to stay off the bed. She knew what was coming and presented for him. He toyed with her slit, making her wet for him. She gasped as she felt him slide inside her. She was in heat, backing herself against him for as much penetration as she could get. He came, and her mind exploded in pleasure.

“This is a step up from what you used to be...Shiba.” the human’s voice. “Catgirl rise.” Something clicked in her mind. She remembered she could stand on her hind legs. She crawled out of bed and stood before her Master, who still held her leash. “I’d say you tamed well, my pretty.”

“I live to serve, Master.” Shiba replied. Master caressed one sensitive breast.

“Yes, you do now. Do you remember what you were before?”

“A foolish kitten.” Shiba replied. “I went home with...with...someone...”

“I felt it necessary to disguise myself as a well-to-do young man for the purposes of your retraining, pet.” He caressed her, drawing passionate moans from her. “I’m a telepath. I can make myself appear to be anywhere and look like anyone I choose. Combining this with several other techniques, Krissy and I retrained you into a docile pet. How do you feel about this?”

“I’m happy to have the chance to serve, Master.” Shiba replied. Krissy strode into the room, dressed as a black catgirl. Shiba shivered in desire. Four other catgirls filed into the room. They rubbed against her, purring and welcoming their new littermate.

“Catgirls cream!” Master said. The catgirls had a simultaneous orgasm, falling to their knees. When they recovered, food and water dishes were filled with sumptuous treats for them. The smells of fresh tuna and ham assailed their noses, and afterwards they were given saucers of cream. Could life be any better?