The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Kernig picked his way carefully through the room — it was large and square with four pillars in the middle. The floor was covered with cushions — cream and magnolia, off whites mixed with pale yellow. He checked his iPhone — security cameras showed a pale girl with curling black tattoos. She trudged warily down a corridor between two muscular, naked black men. There was an app for everything these days.

This was her room — from the silks and velvets that matched her skin, to the wrought iron bed and black rings on the pillars. The silk of her skin, the black of her tattoos. It would breath with her, it would cry out, and come, and fuck with her. It would hold her until the sweetness broke her will, then the sunken bath would wash the sweat and cum off her skin, and the silken sheets would lull her to sleep. It would be her only home once she was finished.

The door opened. It was hidden behind a full length mirror, like several others dotted around the creamy white marble walls. Kernig started and glanced at his phone — the screen showed that she was still a few minutes away, on the other side of the house.

“It’s you, Christ, I thought there was a lag,” he waved his phone.

The newcomer was small and delicately built with round features. She had glossy black hair in a tight black ponytail and glittering green eyes. She smiled at him with crimson lips. He liked the colour, it matched the rubber shirt she was wearing. The girl dropped the cushions she’d been carrying and fished a PDA out of her cleavage. It was a good cleavage — generous, but realistic. The corset — more rubber, but black — did good things for it.

“I thiiiiink that’s everything...” she stared at the list.

Kernig looked around. “It looks like it. Thanks for reminding me to take off my shoes.”

“It only occurred to me once we filled the room with these cushions. They’re dry clean only, by the way.”

“Yeah,” he looked around. “She’s going to be fantastic — perfect. I looked at her, I saw her... and I knew — I could see — what she was going to be. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Forever.”

The girl looked uncertain. “Will she be staff?”

Kernig sighed and drew the girl closer to him. He put a hand on her shoulder and stroked the side of her neck with his thumb.

“Gemma, I’d be lost without you. No one could replace you, and nobody will. I’ll give her more juice than I gave you — she’ll be a pet, there won’t be much left of her. What I did to you... that was just good employee relations.”

Gemma nodded, but there was a wistful edge to her expression.

“I still used too much juice on you though, didn’t I?” He stroked her hair, enjoying the way her nipples peaked under the rubber. “I can’t help feeling that I should put you back to normal, at least a little.”

Gemma started to look afraid.

“But I won’t,” he kissed her forehead. “Because I don’t want to hurt you.”

She looked pained. Her eagerness to please meant that she was driven to be more and more efficient. It also meant that she was desperate not to upset him.

“I take back what I said earlier — you can mention it.”

“Thank you Mas- Mister Kernig. What are we going to do about Miss Natasha?”

Kernig fought the feeling of hollowness that had been lurking inside him for the last two days. He did everything he could to keep from showing his depression. Gemma’s conditioning meant that she was like an emotional echo chamber — she’d soak up anything he felt and amplify it.

“I still can’t believe what happened, but,” he forced a little more steel into his voice. “If Tasha doesn’t want her life — after all we’ve been through together and how sure I was that she was going to be okay... well, if she doesn’t want her life, then I’ll damn well find something to do with it. Once this is done, I’ll have a serious think.”

“Yes Master,” Gemma said penitently. “I’m sorry for upsetting you Master.”

She was on the verge of tears. He held her tight and kissed her on the forehead.

“It’s nothing, and you mustn’t call me Master.”

“It feels good, Master.”

“I know.”

“I’m so worried about you, Master.”

“Hush,” he gently pushed her away. “Now go, scat. The new girl will be coming in. I’m going to turn on the subliminals, and they’ll affect you too.”

She’d been brought up with a strong rebellious streak. Her parents had never expected anything from her, and she’d never given them anything. She’d drunk, fucked, smoked and bitched her way through highschool, college and work. She was still young, but she had hopes for the world. A brat. Her skin was a tattooed litany of trends — icons from graphic novels, half understood religious symbols and abstract patterns of black on the silken, creamy white of her perfect skin. The creamy silk of the cushions, the black of the wrought iron.

Belle, her name was Belle.

Right now she was more than a little pissed, and very, very afraid. Kernig watched as his men took her by the arms and cut her clothes off: first the bohemianised rubber leggings, then the off-the-shoulder sweater. Kernig raised his hand. They stopped for him to drink in the scent of her fear and arousal. He ran his eyes up and down her smooth, clean legs. She struggled to look him in the eye, and failed. He lowered his hand. The boys — clones by the names of Hugo and Augustus — went back to work. Hugo cut off her pink and black designer bra. Augustus undid the pink silk ribbons on her panties and threw them into the corner.

Her breasts were small and round, with golden nipples. The tattoos cupped them like sharp, black fingers. A black plastic bar pierced her left nipple. Kernig followed the twisting patters down her stomach to the downy, golden fuzz of her once-shaved sex. An arrow, labelled ‘Slot B’ , pointed down to her cleft. The drugs in the air had started to work on her. She might have been too scared to realise it, but her smell had started to fill the room. Kernig smiled. He imagined her back arched, breasts proud, with her flat, toned stomach jumping in the grip of ecstasy; her eyes — hard, blue eyes — blank with trust and surrender. A cock pounding her will until she begged and wanted him to break her.

Belle watched, silently. Her glossy, pale pink lips parted over white teeth. Her eyes should have been darting around like a caged animal, but they didn’t. She watched him, transfixed. Kernig’s cock stiffened.

He slipped a hand into his pocket and dialled up the concentration of drugs in the air. The real stuff would have to be injected, but it never hurt to pave the way. She tried to size him up. He could see that she was trying to think around the drugs already coursing through her system. Time to watch her sail over the edge.

He amused himself with fantasies for a few minutes as the barely perceptible smell of perfume increased. Her body quickly reacted to the chemicals. Her hard, transfixed expression softened into apprehension and confusion. She tried to recapture her resolve, but he knew that arousal and faulty memory would be undermining her. He understood her panic. She was probably thinking that everything would be alright if she could just get away.

Belle knew it would be alright if she could just get away and put her head back together. The smell of the two men holding her was powerful and distracting. It cut through her fear; even her ability to concentrate on fear. Even naked, held and watched by the handsome man in the glasses, it was hard to concentrate. Her mind kept wandering to their strength, and her helplessness. She couldn’t help herself — they held her powerfully, but gently. Her body throbbed, from her breasts and lips to the insistent, treacherous itch between her legs. She wanted to thrash and fight just so that they could restrain her. Maybe the man in the glasses — they’d called him Mr. Kernig — would be mad and make them punish her. She couldn’t, which made her throb even more.

Kernig pushed up his glasses and flicked back his hair. He was ash-blond with angular features. He moistened his lips with his tongue. Belle fought to remember how she’d gotten there, but nothing would come. Her memory kept slipping into the same half heard rhythm—like a deep, slow heartbeat. She could feel it pound through her body, into her pussy — a second heartbeat, like a cock sliding in and out of her.

The image was powerful. Too powerful to resist. Hugo let go of her with one hand, and she still couldn’t move a muscle. He stroked her breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers. The breath caught in Belle’s throat and for a moment everything melted — the room, the men, even Belle disappeared into a warm soup of pleasure. The feeling of hands on her skin. The pleasure of her tortured nipple. The warm, torturous sweetness of the throbbing in her cunt. The imaginary cock still sliding in and out of her unstoppably.

When Belle came back to the present Hugo had tipped her head back with one hand, and held both her wrists behind her back with the other. Augustus had a small brass pitcher and was pouring the warm liquid into her mouth. Belle’s pussy throbbed. She struggled this time. Hugo held her effortlessly. Augustus gently steadied her head and kept pouring in time with the throbbing of her pussy. Hot, sweet liquid. Struggle, throb, swallow. Struggle, throb, swallow. She let her movements become more languid, and lost herself, grinding back against Hugo and forward against Augustus, swallowing and feeling the cramp of pleasure in her sex. She swallowed happily, the pleasure building. She took another mouthful, praying to feel a hand slip down between her lips. She was too hot, too wet.

Eventually they ran out of liquid. Hugo let go of her and stepped back. Augustus moved a table from behind one of the pillars and stood behind it. Belle tried to focus beyond the pleasure of helplessness and the happiness in her needy sex. It took a supreme effort to become aware of Kernig again.

“Who are you?” She managed.

He smiled. “I’m going to melt you.”

Belle felt a movement inside her belly. She was slick and wet. Her pussy was throbbing with emptiness and every word felt as if he was massaging her clit.

“I’m going to melt you,” Kernig said. “And when you’re a good, happy, melted girl, you’ll live here forever.”

Belle managed to shake her head in the pretence of resistance.

“I’m going to melt you,” He said. Every word was like a tongue on her slit. “And when you’ve been melted you’ll stay here, and you’ll never grow old, and never have to work, and never worry about anything else again.”

“Just fucking.” Belle said, hypnotically.

“Just fucking,” Kernig nodded.

Belle clung onto a bump in her mental smoothness — there was something wrong. She wasn’t supposed to spend her life having sex. There was more to it. Her brow creased with a troubled expression, like a child struggling awake.

“No...” She said, quietly.

“Well,” Kernig smiled. “No one will force you to do anything.”

A rough, strong hand grabbed her arm and someone rammed something hard into the side of her neck. There was a snapping sound and a moment of pain that made her yelp. Augustus stepped back and put something on the side table. Belle put a hand to the side of her neck, but forgot it was there and let it drop to her side again. A warm, sweet buzzing sensation started behind her eyes. She shook her head and tried to blink it away. The sensation spread to her breasts and pussy. Every second it seemed to intensify. Belle brushed her nipple and slipped a hand between her legs. The contact reinforced things. The tingling, buzzing sensation took hold with a-vengeance.

Belle rubbed herself, skilfully massaging her clit. The sensitivity was like nothing she’d ever felt before — her knees almost bucked under the assault as her orgasm ripped a low moan out of her. The buzzing in her head was stronger — disrupting her mind and burning her thoughts. Fear screamed through her, but it was traitorous fear that tipped over the edge into desire. Kernig looked at her over the top of his glasses. She tried to look at him accusingly. He smiled sympathetically and looked at one of his guards.

Hugo lay down on the cushions. His cock was hard — thick and venous. Belle felt it’s ghost between her legs and in her mouth. She imagined throating it, taking it’s full length and stroking back and forth. He’d cradle her head in his hands, thrusting into her mouth. She’d massage the underside of his cock with her tongue and stroked him as he stiffened even further. She’d quicken her pace and he’d moan, forcing her head down until she milked him to orgasm and he surged, filling the back of her throat with cum. She’d swallow it. The maddening, buzzing sweetness receded. She darted forward and positioned herself over his waiting cock. Her will made a last grasp at freedom: she stopped and looked at Kernig.

“This is what you want.” She said.

“Some people say it helps.”

She hesitated but the buzzing started to return. She waited as long as she could but the intensity of the buzzing, tingling disrupted her thoughts. She lowered herself onto him, wordlessly. He gripped her around the waist and guided her into position on his cock. He was wide and he knew how to use it. Her pussy spasmed, gripping it tightly. Her moan escaped through gritted teeth.

“Good girl,” he rumbled, massaging her nipples.

He rocked her back and forth, cradling her in his arms as he speeded up the motion. Belle gave herself to him. His cock filled her with utter bliss. It stroked every inch of the slick skin of her pussy. Waves of pleasure rippled out through her body — pleasure that made her feel small and helpless, contented to be worshipped and thought for. She copied his motion, rocking with him as he eased himself ever deeper inside. Belle cooed to herself and sighed with relief — everything was as it should be.

He speeded his motion, sliding in and out relentlessly. Belle pushed back against him. She gave in to animal lust, wordlessly begging him to pound faster. Her orgasm built from simple pleasure to the ecstasy of animal rutting. Her senses reeled. She clawed at his back. He pulled her legs up, and draped them over his shoulders for deeper access to her pussy. Belle jerked herself against him and came hard, dimly aware that someone had propped her up with a cushion. She cried out with pleasure, then fear.

The buzzing had returned, worse than ever. It was powerful — in her mind, her breasts and her pussy. It rode the orgasm, intensifying it. She felt her mind warp and strain as she clawed at her grip on reality. Beautiful, simple, madness beckoned. Part of her wanted to give in and surrender herself to this collector, and whatever he would do with her once her mind was broken. All she had to do was give in to the tongue on her nipple and the cock easing it’s way back into her. She could wrap her legs around his waist and let the buzzing burn her mind out. He slipped into her wetness and slowly started building his motion back up. She gasped as her body remembered him — her pussy grasped him tightly; waves of warmth and pleasure drenched her, damping her will.

Every gap between strokes felt the buzzing intensify. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

Suddenly Hugo changed position — he slid under her and lay on his back. Belle let out a cheated whine that turned to panic as the buzzing got worse still. She looked around helplessly. Augustus stood, straddling both her, and his clone-brother. His cock was level with her face, just at the perfect height. She felt the buzzing recede again and grabbed for his member. Hugo stroked carefully, happy to keep her on the edge. Belle took the cock in her mouth and felt a moment of profound completeness. She bobbed back and forth, milking him with her tongue.

Augustus grabbed the back of her head, burying his fingers in her hair. Belle let herself get drunk on the musky scent of his crotch. She put her arms around his waist. She bobbed, matching her motion with the motion of the cock stroking away in her pussy. They speeded, faster and faster. Belle’s body felt taught — hard and strung out as the pleasure built. She felt the warning tightness in her belly as her orgasm grew closer. Hugo pounded her mercilessly. She used the tip of her tongue on the base of Augustus’ cock and found the sweet spot. She pressed on it as she moved backwards and forward. He gripped her head tighter and thrust into her mouth. She moaned into him as Hugo reached into her pussy and supplemented fucking her with massaging her clit with his thumb. It pushed her over the edge. Augustus’ cock surged and painted the back of her throat with ropes of cum. Belleslave swallowed it all. She was a good girl.

The thumb didn’t stop because she’d started cumming. Her body started bucking out of her control. He held on until the last moment before releasing his load into her. Her orgasm helped her give in to the buzzing sweetness. She relaxed and rode it out as the pleasure in her mind broke her. Hugo and Augustus climbed off and took their places back at the pillar. belleslave let the buzzing soak through her. bellslave couldn’t think. belleslave couldn’t talk. Poor little belleslave, still together enough to understand the buzzing pleasure that was driving her out of her mind.

She looked at her master with huge, trusting eyes.

“Help me?” He suggested.

She nodded.

“Stand,” he said.

belleslave stood, shakily. Her mind and body screamed from the buzzing. Master put his arms around her from behind and cupped her breasts. His cock pressed into her through his trousers and she hoped that he was going to use it. Master kissed the nape of her neck and slid and hand between her legs. He found her hard, sensitive clit. She whined and tried to struggle away from him.

“Hush now,” he reached up and stroked her breasts reassuringly. “I’m helping.”

His hand dropped down to her slit again. “Look,” he said.

There was another girl, who looked just like belleslave. She had a master who looked just like belleslave’s master. He was rubbing her between the legs, too. She had the same creamy white skin and tattoos as belleslave. Master ran his fingertips over her nub. belleslave’s nipples hardened, as did the other girl’s. They moved together, pushed back against Master’s wonderful hand. belleslave whined and locked her eyes first with the other master, then with the other belleslave. She wanted to watch as master turned them both into good girls.

Master speeded his fingertip motion. belleslave’s whimpers turned into plaintive noises. Pleasure—maddening, intense pleasure—was coming. He shushed her lovingly but it was no good — she was riding the buzzing and the unbearable sweetness. Her legs sagged from under her and her master held her up. She lost sight of the other belleslave as her head lolled back and she just looked at the ceiling There was another belleslave there, too. Her body was a torch of ecstasy. The buzzing rose in crescendo as she started cumming uncontrollably.

Master lifted her head up to see the other belleslave as her sanity shattered. The other belleslave’s eyes changed, and she knew that hers did as well. The light of humanity and intelligence went out of them. She gave up her grip on the last few threads of her sanity as she came. Her old personality moved out of the way for the new one — the exhibit, the pet. belleslave cooed and bucked. She melted back into Master’s arms.

“There now,” he breathed. “There now...”

He lowered her onto the soft, happy smoothness. bellslave’s word had contracted into simplicity of need: the need to please her master, the need to be clean and fed, and to feel pleasure. The need for sleep. She sank back into the cushions and stroked her nipples with stray piece of velvet. Her words were gone. She dimly remembered being able to talk the way master did, but that had been before she was belleslave. She crooned to herself wordlessly as she stroked her nipples and breasts with the velvet. Her cuntmeat wasn’t hungry for now.

“Good girl,” Master said. “Good girl.”

Augustus offered Kernig a wipe for his fingertips and wrapped her clone-brother’s used condom in tissue paper before putting both into a plastic bag for disposal.

“There,” Kernig said. “A nice, smooth start to our newest addition. Get some more of the boys and make sure she doesn’t get any headspace to put herself back together. She looks pretty broken, but there’s always a chance. Two or three days of pleasure — no sleep or food — should be enough to make the changes permanent.

“Remember — she’s a beautiful piece of art. Nothing too weird, or painful, just keep her topped up. You’ll know once she’s past the point of no return, after that give her something to eat and fuck her into dreamland.

“Oh,” he turned at the door. “And make absolutely sure the nano-modifications have stopped her ageing. It would be crying shame if any of that went south.”

Kernig closed the door quietly and started down the corridor. Tonight he’d use Gemma until they both fell asleep. Then he’d drink red wine through tomorrow morning, and eventually decide what he was going to do with Tasha.