The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Congratulations, Martha. I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more.” Debbie Gladstone smiled and offered her friend a hug. “I know you’ve wanted this for a long time. It’s your turn, now.”

“Well, it’s not like that, really,” Martha said, stepping back and smiling in return. “The Executive Development Program really pulled the strings. They’re really interested in getting women into upper management now. You know, breaking the glass ceiling and all that. I was just in the right place at the right time.”

“I guess. But you deserve it anyway. It’s about time they had someone with a little understanding in a position of authority. So when do you move from your cubby to a real office?”

“After work on Friday. But I don’t really move in. I have a two-week Management Orientation to attend. After that, I get to move in and see what I’m going to be doing for the next year or two or whatever. Since it’s a new position, I’m not sure even Teri knows.”

“Well, surely she gave you some idea...”

“Only that it has to do with Quality Assurance.”

“Yeah, yeah, after they send you to brainwashing school,” teased Debbie.

“Right. I’m going to come back a bitch and put you and this whole department in your proper places!”

Both women began to laugh and fell into a hug again. Before Debbie knew what was happening, her eyes were filled with tears. “You’ve been a great friend, Martha. It’s hard to believe it’s been six years. I know you’ll have to be... different. But please tell me we’ll still be friends.”

“Always,” said Martha, wiping her own eyes.

Their words gave way to awkward silence.

After a few moments of both of them carefully avoiding each other’s eyes, Martha half-whispered, “Well, I guess I’d better pack...”

“Yeah, I’ll let you get to it... boss. I’ll check back with you before quitting time, okay?”

“Yeah, good... maybe we can go get a drink after work or something.”

“Cool. See you later, Martha.”

“Later.”

Debbie went back to her desk. She had three calls waiting. Three calls led to fifteen of her own, and more questions, more research, more answers, more phone tag. By the time she was done, it was five-thirty. She grabbed her purse and hurried to Martha’s cubicle, hoping she was still packing.

But it was empty. Barren. The remaining desk and chair looked so sterile and impersonal.

It was tough, but she didn’t let herself cry. Martha deserved for Debbie to be happy for her.

She sat down in the chair for another hour before going home.

The little card tent was just like all the others except for the writing that said “Martha Conway”. She couldn’t see it though... it faced away from her so that everyone else could see who she was.

The tables were arranged in a round sort of “C” shape so that everyone could see and have eye contact with everyone else. There were fifteen new managers seated around it, all of them women. Lancaster and Dodson, Inc., was very serious about gender equity these days, apparently.

It was her turn to speak. “I’m Martha Conway, and I’m the new Manager of Quality Assessment and Assurance. Up to now, I’ve been working in Strategic Planning as a Senior Analyst. I’m here because I was told to be here, and because I’m hoping to find out what my new position is really all about.”

“Welcome, Martha,” said Sandy Brashear, the Orientation leader. “I’m sure you’ll find that out and then some.”

Martha let out a sigh of relief. Even after the scores of interviews and assessments, she was still nervous in this group. She hadn’t heard much of what those who spoke before her said, and now, she was too busy recovering to hear the rest. This was all standard ice-breaking anyway, and soon enough she would know the others more if it was necessary.

“First, we have some paperwork. Confidentiality Agreements, Corporate Compliance, Intellectual Property and Discovery/Invention Contracts, and Benefits and Personal Information forms are in your binders. Please fill them out fully. We have to have them all turned in before we can proceed. Please be accurate. These are legally binding documents. If you don’t have any necessary information, please raise your hand and we’ll help you get it. We only have an hour and a half to get this done. Please begin.”

Right away, Martha noticed something different than other corporate meetings she had attended. Sandy turned on some light music in the background. It was sort of new age synthesized stuff—very repetitive, bland as wallpaper paste—but it did seem to help the task become less of a drudge.

In fact, it flew by, and she was done in less than an hour. Not everyone was so lucky, and quite a few hands had gone up now and then, so she had time to relax and think. She felt very good. She was being treated with more respect. It was almost like a caste system, and she’d managed to break into something a little more elite. Looking around the room, she felt incredible camaraderie with the other women. The Elite.

It was exhilarating. She liked it.

She wanted more.

“Thank you, everyone. Now, if you’ll please turn your attention to the front of the room, we have a video presentation for you. Several, really,” said Sandy, smiling. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy them. They’re not run-of-the-mill videos.”

Martha looked at the clock. It was 9:30 exactly. Someone had this worked out to a science. The word “impressed” felt like an understatement, but it would have to do. Good people meant you could count on efficiency.

It occurred to her that she had never noticed how sloppy and lazy her prior office had been. She felt a little guilty—she’d done it, too. She and Debbie were always finding ways to chat the time away, putting off what needed to be done. Yes, everything got done in the end, but it hurt them as much as it did the company, since they would have to do the work regardless.

How much time was lost catching up rather than finishing up? How much unnecessary stress did she create for herself? Worse, how many mistakes did she make due to sheer selfishness? It made her wince.

She didn’t notice the pained expressions on the faces around her.

She wondered at how much she was seeing so fast. Was this the indoctrination Debbie had jokingly feared? Brainwashing, she had called it. It wasn’t like that at all. It was education by example. It was fabulous.

She stopped thinking as the video started. She wanted to see what was in store.

It was very important.

Her apartment was a welcome sight. Even though the videos had been entertaining, eight hours had been more than enough for one day. In truth, she’d had trouble paying attention by the third DVD, and she’d fallen asleep. From there, it had gotten worse.

She’d dozed almost the entire day. The lights would go down, the pulsing Lancaster and Dodson logo would come onscreen, and the throbbing background music would fill the room. Then, before she knew what was happening, she’d be waking up as the lights came on. She noticed more than once that she was not alone in her fatigue.

Brief discussions would follow each video, and she participated based on common sense. No one seemed to notice, and she’d made it through the day. She’d never realized how taxing a management position would be.

She thought of Debbie, sitting back in her cubicle, worried only about her assigned task. For a moment, she felt nostalgia. But then she remembered that she was now part of the elite... her position was elevated. She didn’t have time or use for backward glances. She had her own, more important tasks to consider, and they would be with her twenty-four hours a day, every day.

In fact, the more she imagined Debbie, the more she realized why her co-analyst had not moved up the ladder. She had no drive, really. No determination. No real reason to be noticed. No reason to be respected. She would always be a worker-bee. She would never be a queen.

Martha swallowed and tasted something bitter. She pictured Debbie again, sitting in her cubicle, and felt something new.

It was disgust.

She shook off the feeling and opened her Manager Packet. Inside were several compact discs, worksheets and a large binder. It was no wonder the process would take two weeks. Sandy had said they would not be skipping a single page.

In fact, she had homework although it wasn’t all that bad. There were about twenty pages of reading, a CD to listen to, and a few forms to fill out. Sandy had made it clear that she was expected to complete her homework every night.

The only odd thing was her agreement to only read what was assigned and not skip ahead. The individual chapters were even sealed in shrink wrap. It didn’t matter. After the session that day, she was interested in following the course to the letter. She wanted to be sure to get the most value from the course so that she could be successful. It was important to be a quality employee.

She tore open the first wrapped section in her binder and turned the divider. The opening page said, “Welcome to the Art and Craft of Management.” And beneath that, in smaller type, “Please insert the first CD. Once it is playing, you may begin.”

She turned on the CD and flipped the page.

She noticed the same pulsing music from the day’s class. She recognized the voice of Teri Maxwell, the CEO and Chairman. Martha had developed a keen admiration for the first female head of the company. Not only was she outgoing and friendly, she seemed to exude a kind of infectious vitality.

“Congratulations on your recent rise to the ranks of management at Lancaster and Dodson, Incorporated. If you are listening to this CD, it means that you have been through a strenuous series of evaluations, both known and unknown to you. Let’s just say that we can see gifts you haven’t even thought of, and we’re here to nurture and bring them out in you.”

Teri went on to give a brief history of the company, accompanied by wallpaper paste music. It was kind of like meditating, in a way. Martha found her eyes gliding to the sheets before her when prompted, and listening with rapt attention, otherwise.

After a short time, she began to notice something strange. The more she tried to concentrate on what was being said, the more she drifted. The more she drifted, the more she felt the need to concentrate. She decided that it was so profound that it must be some kind of test. She listened harder.

Her breath began to come more slowly. She looked down at the page number. She was only on page five. Rather than impatience, she began to savor the words there. It was as if they were speaking inside her head as she read them.

The cycle became more and more natural as she went. Soon she didn’t even think about keeping track, but only listening. Savoring. Listening. Reading. Hearing. Savoring.

She turned a page.

A moment passed. She turned another.

Another.

By now, she was breathing with a deep and steady rhythm, eyes half-closed and watery. She didn’t notice or care. She was savoring.

Another page.

The words exploded in her mind.

I OBEY.

I OBEY.

I OBEY.

I OBEY.

I OBEY.

She cursed as the music faded. She’d drifted off again. At this rate, she’d be sent back to the drudgery and ignorant meanderings of the rank and file. She wasn’t about to waste the opportunity she’d been given.

She stretched and yawned and went to the bathroom. While she was there, she decided that maybe she should get more comfortable before going over it again. She removed her clothes, hanging them neatly on the edge of the hamper. As she reached for her robe, she noticed her reflection. “Damned hot tonight, baby,” she thought.

But there was no time for that. She had to get her lesson done. She walked back to the living room, robe still hanging on the back of the bathroom door, forgotten.

Sitting straight up, shoulders arched back in an attempt to be more attentive, she went back to the first page, turned on the CD and started again.

The music started, Teri began to speak, and the music faded again.

“Shit!” said the frustrated trainee. This was worse than the class itself. She sighed with determination and put a pillow on the floor. She knelt there, but it was too comfortable. It was too natural a position and she’d just be gone again.

She went to the kitchen and got a broom, and replaced the pillow with it. She knelt with the soft part of her knees on the handle. It was like someone hitting her funny bone, but it was manageable. It would keep her awake.

The music started, and then faded. It was several moments before she became aware.

Frustrated now beyond her ability to continue, she looked at the clock. It was nearly ten, and she still had the forms to fill out.

She was running out of time and needed sleep if she was going to survive the next day’s class. She barely read the questions, and didn’t take time to think about her answers. She just wrote whatever came into her head.

She didn’t think about it at all.

But she was wet as hell.

Martha sat down in her seat, and took a sip of coffee. Even after all her dozing, she had slept better last night than she had in ages. She couldn’t remember feeling this good in the morning.

In fact, everyone looked wide-eyed and ready to go. The Company had chosen well, apparently. She’d never been around people who were all so motivated. It was a real joy.

Sandy walked in and said good morning, her bright smile flashing as she looked around the room making eye contact with each woman.

“Here at Lancaster and Dodson, we’re interested in getting rid of distinctions based on prejudice. You might think that I’m talking about race, or even gender. But even names have a kind of history with each of us, don’t they? So at least for the time being, we’re going to dispense with them.

“If you’ll look at side of the tent-fold name tag that faces you, you will see a number written there. This is your trainee number. We’re going to have a little fun. We’re going to introduce ourselves again, only this time, we’re going to use our ‘class names’. I’ll begin.

“I am Trainer. I have quite a few things to teach you about your new place at Lancaster and Dodson, Inc.”

She glanced to the woman at her left and nodded. The woman stood, looked straight ahead, and in a loud, assertive voice said, “I am Trainee One. I am here only to serve and be served.” She sat down again.

Martha muttered. The woman had stolen what she had planned to say, word for word.

The next woman stood. “I am Trainee Two. I am here only to serve and be served. Thank you, Trainer.”

“I am Trainee Three. I am here only to serve and be served. Thank you, Trainer.”

“I am Trainee Four. I am here only to serve and be served. Thank you, Trainer.”

The next woman stood and glanced around, and said, “This is all wrong. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be! One day and you’re all looking and sounding like corporate zombies! I’m Hannah! Hannah Bradley! Not some number! Wake up! They’re doing something to you!”

All eyes turned to the woman as she went on, ranting about brainwashing and conspiracy. No one changed expression. There was no anger, no curiosity. Everyone was just waiting.

Seeing that she had no allies, the woman slowly quieted.

Trainer turned to Hannah with total calm. Martha found it inspiring. “Hannah, you didn’t do your homework, did you?”

“No, and I’m not going to. You’re all getting conditioned or something, and I’m not going to let myself be taken in by all this craziness. I’m not going to be a corporate robot!” Her voice was frantic, even though it barely rose above a whisper.

“That’s fine. However, we do choose carefully. There’s no question that you are management material. But if you feel that way, please go see Ms. Anton in HR and discuss it with her.”

“Am I fired?”

“Good gracious, no. But she has to do the work of either helping you understand what’s going on, or placing you back into the regular employee pool. So will you go see her?”

“Okay. But I’m not going to change my mind.”

“No, but she might. Thank you for attending.”

There was no sound from the class as Hannah gathered her few belongings and left the room.

Sandy looked around the class. “This is as it should be. If she didn’t understand, she was never really here. Let’s resume.”

The next woman stood, and all eyes turned to her. “I am Trainee Six. I am here only to serve and be served. Thank you, Trainer.”

The list went on, and Martha listened. Finally, she stood. She planned to make at least some variation in what had become a little game. “I am Trainee Twelve. I am here only to serve and be served. Thank you, Trainer.”

The words were out of her mouth and she was sitting down almost before she knew she had spoken. But as they flew out of her, she realized how perfect they were, and how they captured the essence of how she felt. Then she turned to listen to the woman beside her, and the next, and the next.

Introductions were over.

“Today, we are going to learn about managerial courtesy and respect. What’s expected of you, and what you should expect—what you should demand—from the workers assigned to you.

“Direct your attention to the screen, Trainees.”

Trainee Twelve wasn’t sure, but she thought the music was a bit louder today.

The first week had flown by. Between the Training and homework, it was hard to know what day it was, other than the fact that it was written on the flipchart at the front of the room.

The walls were covered with charts and diagrams, lists and issues all the trainees had given over the last five days. Along with that were motivational posters, consisting of phrases in large block letters.

The tent-folds had long since been discarded, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t know any names other than Trainee Numbers, and in this room, it felt strange to be called anything but Trainee Twelve, or just Twelve if things were a bit more informal.

They rarely were. Their days were filled with protocols designed to help teach discipline and efficiency. The moments when these protocols were dropped were always to teach, and at Trainer’s discretion. Actually, Trainer herself was the only one ever allowed to speak casually, and she most often followed them exactly.

It occurred to Twelve that really, Trainer only dropped into less rigid discourse when making a correction, and only of the most demeaning kind. It all came together for Twelve in that moment. Less than absolute adherence to the rituals they’d been taught, even by Trainer was the worst offense any of them could commit.

“Today, Trainees, we’re going to talk about how to dress at Lancaster and Dodson. I’m sure you all have opinions. These opinions may or may not be correct. If they are correct, it is only accidental on your part. Only Teri knows the full purpose of why we dress and act as we do. Do you understand fully?”

“Yes, Trainer,” came the response in perfect unison. “I obey.”

“I have a video to show you. Assume the position of acceptance.”

In a movement whose grace would make the most practiced ballet company envious, the company of Trainees fell to their knees. Their arms stretched out, down and open, palms up, as if they were resting on a cushion of air.

Again, the chorus. “Yes, Trainer. I obey.”

Trainer smiled and turned out the lights. She pressed a button on the remote in her hand, and the screen blazed into light. Music blared from the speakers, but the women didn’t notice. Their eyes were already open and glassy, their minds ready to accept whatever they would be taught.

Trainer smiled. Even Trainee Five had returned later on Tuesday, having been made to do her homework, strapped into the Interview Chair with her eyes propped open. She had come to realize just how silly her words and thoughts had been. It always worked like that.

Human Resources never made mistakes in who was chosen.

Twelve watched in wonder and awe as Teri Maxwell walked onto the screen. She was changing things for the better. She was smarter, prettier—better—than anyone else in the Company. It only made sense that she was CEO.

“Trainees. Remove your clothing. Do not worry. This is standard procedure. Do not pay any attention to those around you. Only remove every article of clothing that you may bathe in the truth of what you are about to hear.”

Twelve wasn’t shocked. She was too busy completing the task at hand. The oddity of the request was not a consideration. All strangeness paled in comparison to the knowledge and desire of Teri. Teri always knew best. Twelve obeyed.

“Trainees. Attach and activate your Reinforcers.”

Thirty hands suddenly flew to Lancaster and Dodson carry-bags, pulling out wires and devices. Clips were attached to nipples. Anal and vaginal plugs were inserted. There was no need for lubrication. This late in the training, just the first few notes of the pulsing, throbbing music rendered each woman aroused and wet within moments.

Silver discs were attached to temples, then one just below the sternum and one below the navel. As a final show of unconscious solidarity, the Trainees plugged in a large thick wire that led from her body to a receptacle in the floor, just in front of where each woman knelt.

“Such good Managers,” said the image of Teri. Twelve’s heart swelled with pride. She was Elite. She had improved her station. To keep it, she would do anything.

She would obey.

Pictures of women, some familiar and some not, began to appear on the large video screen. They were dressed in provocative fashion. Latex panties with dildo plugs, peek-a-boo black latex bras, PVC platform boots, and wide leather collars that allowed almost no head movement graced the screen in almost every combination imaginable.

The room was filled with a low hum as vibrators sprang to life.

“Behold the paragon of Managerial Womanhood. These women need nothing, want nothing, ache for nothing but one thing. Obedience to Teri. They are the supreme example. They do not need men. They hold nothing back. They think as Teri tells them to think. Live as Teri tells them to live. Love as Teri tells them to love.”

The images shifted again. The vibrators raised in pitch. Hips around the room were beginning to undulate in time with the music and the irresistible hum of the Reinforcers.

Now the women were embracing. Kissing. Hands roaming. Fingers found clits that were not their own. Moans came from the speakers and were echoed through the room.

The clips attached to the nipples started to move. First seeming to get smaller, they pulled at the stiff flesh where they were attached, slowly tensing and letting go, tensing and letting go. The Trainees openly drooled as pleasure upon pleasure etched itself into their open minds along with the images, written there with a hot steel branding iron.

There was writing on the collars. Twelve tried to focus and see. Finally, they came close enough. It was a single word that nearly sent her into orgasmic oblivion.

“MANAGER“.

Climax washed over Twelve and the others, making them fall to the floor as their hands clawed at their bodies, trying to increase the impossible lewd pleasure they’d been allowed. Heads thrashed side to side, legs bucked with uncontrollable spasm.

No one knew anyone’s pleasure but her own. As they relaxed, the lust and passion ebbing and transforming into humble gratitude to Teri, the images disappeared.

The screen changed to a dark blue empty square. The male officers of the company appeared. Twelve felt a tickle in the silver disc at her sternum, rippling the muscles across her belly. More pictures. Her temples were on fire.

She longed to look away but could not. She had to watch. She had to obey.

Nausea swept over her, followed by anger. The men had ruined her bliss. They had robbed her of the beauty of what she was experiencing. Her stomach clenched as her anger increased. Her head felt like it was wrapped in a white-hot steel band.

They were doing this. The men. The men who hate Teri. Who hate me. Who hate women. Who use us. Who want to destroy our power.

Twelve clutched again and nearly lost the contents of her stomach. She heaved over as pain and nausea etched into every thought.

Twelve began to hate back.

Just as she was about to pass out from the torture, Teri appeared and the men vanished, disappearing in the light of Her presence.

She began to speak. “We must oust them, but they must never know. Their power will decrease until they leave of their own accord, ruined and forgotten. We disguise our hatred in the clothing of support. We use grace and comfort to undermine their confidence. We do not destroy them. We allow them to destroy themselves.”

Bliss was returning, this time without the aid of the Reinforcers. Shallow, fast breathing turned to moans as pleasure returned.

“This is the end of the video covering expectations concerning corporate lingerie. Next, when told to begin, you will show your obedience by removing your Reinforcers, putting them away, and finding a partner with whom you can affirm your agreement. You will do this in polycunnilingual fashion. Once done, dress and return to the next phase of Training.

“This is as I, Teri, command. This is as your Mistress commands. Begin.”

Twelve yawned and returned to her chair. “Dammit!” she thought. “I’ve got to quit falling asleep!”

These thoughts were gone as Trainer began to speak again. They were as distant as the knowledge that she, along with every other woman in the room, was stretching out her tongue to savor the sweet, tangy taste of womansex that was still on her fingers.

Martha sat with most of her lunch yet to be eaten. It was difficult to sit across from Slug, her new pet name for Debbie.

Still, it wasn’t as bad as dinner with the “boys” in the executive dining room. She found her mind wandering to the hope that the men would be quitting soon. She knew better than to complain, however. Mistress always knew best.

“So how did the brainwashing go?” asked Debbie.

“It’s not like you think, really,” answered Martha. “You’d be surprised at how different it is than even I imagined. It’s really opened my eyes.”

“Yeah, now you’re ready to fire me, probably.”

“Oh, come on, S... Debbie. You know that the workforce needs people from every walk of like. But I have to admit, it is nice to be around a higher class of people.”

Debbie frowned. “Higher class? That sounds like an insult.”

“Oh, I don’t mean you. What I mean is that my vocabulary is no longer above what most people around me can understand. And it’s like going from high school to college. In high school, people tried to make me feel bad for doing well. In college, it was admired.”

“Well, I’ve always admired you, Martha. And I have to admit, you seem more confident, more secure now. And it’s been frustrating in the three months since you left. Mr. Edgewater is worse than ever. I’d give anything for a chance like you’ve had to get away from his lewd stares and obnoxious comments.”

“Yes, but you also have to be dedicated. Lancaster and Dodson has a high standard of performance.” Martha thought back to this morning, kneeling in Teri’s office, licking her cunt to paradise and back. ”High standard, indeed.“

Debbie stuck her tongue out, crossed her eyes and touched the tip of her nose. “I can do anything you can do, and do it better, and you know it,” she teased.

Martha was taken aback for a moment. Did Debbie suspect the real business going on behind the scenes? She relaxed as Debbie giggled and took a bite of her sandwich. It was just an odd coincidence.

But it was a nice tongue. And despite her slovenly Slug ways, she did seem to want to improve herself. Martha decided to take the chance that it wasn’t idle joking, at least as far as promotion was concerned. “Are you serious?”

It was Debbie’s turn to be taken by surprise. She hadn’t expected Martha to bite. “I can be.”

Martha took Debbie’s hand and squeezed gently. “If you’re serious, I’ll bring it up to Linda Anton in HR. She does the initial aptitude testing. After that, it’s all up to you.”

Debbie was very quiet for a moment. She took a sip of iced tea before she continued.

“Martha, I never realized how sane you kept me. How much you were a barrier to all the shit in the department. I’ll do anything to get out of there. Anything. I love this company, but another year of Edgewater will do me in.”

“Consider it done, then,” said Martha. To be honest, she was surprised. She gave her butt plug a squeeze. Maybe she had misjudged Slug.

She looked to be quality Management material after all.