The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The next day after I had arrived and stripped David handed me a latex bodysuit. “This is most of your outfit for today.” It was shiny black, and took a bit of work putting on, but with David’s help I managed.

There were built-in (high) heels, and arms ended in gloves that I had to work over my hands. The zipper went up my back, but left a hole at the bottom.

It felt odd. I squeaked when I moved, and the latex felt tight around me. Like I was being held, all over.

“Are you wearing makeup?”

“Yes.” I pulled my attention from the suit to David.

“Ok. We’re going to have to wash it off.” He led the way to the bathroom, where He washed my face. When He was done, David led us over to the kitchen. I practiced my walk, in hopes He would notice.

“Now, Rachel, I’m about to cover your head, but I want you to understand what you are doing today. First, I’m going to put these wax earplugs in your ears,” He gestured to some earplugs sitting in what I assumed was hot water, “Then I’m going to put a full-face mask over your head. There are holes for your nose and mouth. In your mouth will be a variation on a ring gag: it will hold your mouth open, and prevent you from speaking in any fashion. For the rest of the day you will not be able to hear or see, and your sense of touch will be muted. You will not know what is going on around you, or what I am doing. You are to remain still, in whatever position I put you in, unless I move you. You will attempt to swallow anything I put in your mouth. You will not resist anything done to you. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“You aren’t claustrophobic or anything like that?”

“No. I’ll be fine.”

“Any questions before we get started? You won’t have another chance until this afternoon.”

I couldn’t think of any. It was fairly clear what I was going to be: His living blow-up doll. Unable to do anything but accept Him as He fucked me.

Which I hoped He’d do a lot.

“Ok then. Tilt your head.” He picked up one of the lumps of wax out of the hot water, and molded it into my ear. It effectively silenced that ear. When the other was in place all I could hear was the sound of my own body, echoing through my head.

David said something, but I didn’t hear Him. He seemed pleased when I didn’t respond.

Then He started to pull the hood over my head.

My hair was inside, and got pressed against my head. David even tucked a few strands into the main bodysuit, before zippering it over the base of the hood.

There was a moment of adjusting, as He aligned the holes for me to breathe through. He held my mouth closed for a moment, probably trying to see if I could breathe through my nose. I could.

Then the gag came in. The ring went inside my mouth, pressing down on my tongue, so the most I could make were the most guttural of noises. It held my mouth wide open, even stretching my jaw a little.

I was stuck. David put my hand over the top of the zipper, so I could feel the lock He’d placed there. Even if I’d wanted to, there was no way I could remove the suit now.

He left me for what felt like a long time then, just standing there with one hand behind my neck. I could hear my pulse, and feel the suit, and the gag. I could feel my mouth starting to water, and knew I’d soon be drooling. There was a slight air current on my clit, which was the biggest external feeling I could find.

I was a sex-doll. Waiting to be used. The thought was arousing, and I felt my clit respond.

Presently I felt David’s hands on me. The feeling was remote: just barely discernible beneath the pressure of the suit itself. He was feeling my sides, then my breasts, and my ass.

He ran a finger over my clit; that I felt.

Then I felt nothing until He picked me up.

I was carried someplace into the apartment, then posed. I was leaning over, and my arms were up in front of me. Exactly where I’m not sure. It was an interesting feeling: without moving myself, or seeing myself moved, I wasn’t even sure where my own limbs were. I just had to hold them without moving them.

Time was a problem that day. I lost track. I would hold positions for what felt like ages, but David said were only for a minute. It also jumbled up: One moment I was standing, another I was lying down, the next kneeling, with no real sense of transition.

I know He used dildos and vibrators on me. Sometimes in my mouth, sometimes in my pussy. Sometimes in both. Sometimes He’d have a vibrator in one while His cock was in the other. I often couldn’t tell the difference, until He came.

I do remember resting on my knees and hands, (my hands on my ankles, actually) with my hands behind my back and my face in the air, with a vibrator in my pussy while He poured something into my mouth. David has told me that was lunch: a protein shake. I remember it because I almost choked. David said He didn’t notice, but was careful to pour slowly, so I could swallow at my own pace.

I didn’t choke. Swallowing was a problem, but I knew I was to swallow anything in my mouth, if I could. I tried hard.

Mostly, the day just blurs into one big fuck-fest. David has told me He kept something in me most of the day, and fucked me Himself several times, both in my mouth and my pussy. I believe it.

I can’t say lust was what I felt. It was simpler than that. When I felt something in me, that was my existence. When there wasn’t anything... I didn’t exist. I just waited for something else to make me real again, instead of being just half-formed thought.

I didn’t realize what was happening when David removed the gag. Then I felt the hood pulled off my head.

David held me in His lap. We were in His bedroom, on His bed. I was stretched out on the bed, with my head in David’s hands, in His lap.

He turned me to face Him, so I faced His zipper. I wondered if He’d unzip it for me.

Then He pulled the wax out of my ear, and turned me over to do the other side.

“I’ve turned the lights out. How are your eyes?”

My jaw was sore. I blinked: it looked bright, but I could tell the lights were actually out; though the curtains let in quite a bit. “Ok, I think.”

“Good.” He put me aside, and turned on the bedside lamp. It got a lot brighter. I blinked. “Roll over.”

I rolled onto my back, as directed, and David unlocked my zipper, and unzipped me. “There you go.”

He helped me out of the suit. The air felt cool against my naked skin. Clean. The suit had felt clean going on, but now...

“You need a shower.” My skin was wet with sweat, my hair matted against my head. I had no arguments.

The shower felt heavenly.

As did being dried by David again.

He sent me home with a kiss on the cheek, and pat on the behind.

Wednesday the outfit David handed me when I had stripped was a micro-version of a french maid’s uniform. My breasts were covered, if you count see-through lace as cover. The skirt barely reached my waist, just barely long enough to actually be called a skirt, and only technically reaching my butt, never mind my front. The excuse for an apron covered more on the front, actually hanging past my crotch, if not far. Of course there were high heels and a little tiara-hat thing. Panties were not included, and the dress did the work of a basic bra.

“Your job for the morning is to clean the apartment, top to bottom. Dust everything, pick up what needs to be picked up, scrub and vacuum the floors. Your tools are here.” He gestured to a bucket next to Him. There was an upright vacuum next to it, but the bucket itself only held a feather-duster, a sponge, and a hand-brush. “It shouldn’t take you too long.”

I bent over to pick up the bucket. “Uh-uh. Bend from the waist only, today.” David stopped me.

I stood up, and tried it again. David moved around for a better view as I bent over: the view right behind me. I felt the hem of my skirt pull up to the very top of my ass; it even got caught a moment as I stood up with the feather-duster in hand. I turned to face Him. “Where should I start, Sir?”

“The main room will be fine. I’ll supervise for a while to see how you are doing.”

I started on dusting some of the top shelves; walking over to a bookcase to start.

“No; wrong. First off, you need to remember how to walk. Remember how you practiced on Monday? Walk that way.” I took a few steps, doing the feet-in-a-line walk again, with my ass moving beneath the excuse for a dress. “Better. Also, I said top to bottom. You start with where the ceiling meets the walls: dust the entire way around, making sure there are no cobwebs or dust caught in any of the corners.”

I started over. The feather-duster was just long enough for me to reach the ceiling, if I stretched. Which pulled my dress up, and pulled my feet out of even these high heels. I could dust a small section, then I had to move over and dust the next section of ceiling.

It was tiring work. I stole a peak at David a moment to see if He approved, and if I was doing everything right.

He wasn’t watching what I was doing. He was watching me: how the dress revealed my ass, how the pose stretched my back...

And He was enjoying Himself. He was enjoying watching me.

This wasn’t really a surprise, I knew the whole point was because He’d enjoy it. But I hadn’t been thinking about it. I hadn’t been thinking, period.

I turned back to the dusting, knowing that David would look for an excuse to make me do it over again. Now I was aware of His gaze on my body, as the costume forced me to reveal myself in teases...

Abruptly I was enjoying this. It was hot, arousing. To David, and therefore to me. What I was wearing, what I was doing, how I was doing it, they were all in His hands. He was using His control over me to enjoy Himself, and He hadn’t asked me about it. He’d just assumed that I’d go along willingly.

And I had. I hadn’t even thought about it until after I’d started, and I wasn’t stopping now.

For that matter, yesterday and the day before I’d just gone along without any questions. Yesterday He’d made me a sex toy, literally! I’d let Him position me, fuck me, use me however He wanted and I hadn’t even been able to see it coming. Been unable, actually, to do anything but receive Him. And I’d never even thought about what He’d been doing to me. I’d offered no resistance, just done as He’d asked. Ordered.

I think I orgasmed as that last thought hit me, but I’m not sure. I didn’t stop dusting.

It’s amazing how much difference a mindset can make. I hadn’t not enjoyed cleaning—it was impossible for me to dislike doing something David ordered—but I had not been really liking it either. Now I did. Every little stretch, every little bend, was another opportunity to show off to David. Every step I took was a chance to show how well I’d learned. Every move I made was a chance to play the role He’d picked for me. And every thought of Him was arousing.

It meant my mind had to be active. I had to think about what He wanted, what He liked, what I was asked, or ordered. I had to try to predict what would please Him most, because the act of thinking about it would be pleasure in itself.

And one of the first suggestions He’d given me was to enjoy thinking about Him, so even even thinking about thinking about it was a turn-on.

Dusting went much quicker after that.