The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The small SUV sat in the driveway for several minutes, accompanied by the sound of clicks and ticks from a cooling engine. It was barely possible to see through the windshield into the interior of the vehicle. Only a humanoid outline could be seen in the driver’s seat, and every few seconds a soft orange glow appeared and disappeared. After some time had passed, the driver’s door opened and a large cloud of thick cigar smoke exited the cab.

Officer Jones slowly stepped out of the vehicle, still dressed in her professional clothes. She even wore her patrol cap, which was haloed with wisps of smoke. Extending from her mouth was a massive cigar, easily three inches around and with fourteen inches protruded from her lips. Her eyes were wide, and her expression was blank. Her head turned ahead of her body as she turned towards the house, her fingers guiding the vehicles door closed.

She walked forward and as she approached the door, the man could easily see that trailing down each side of her face was a constant tide of tears. It was hard to tell if they were tears brought on by the woman’s desperate inward struggle to try to break free of the cigar’s hold on her body or if they were just the result of the mental domination refusing to let her body continue average function.

As she stepped through the door that was held open for her, she stopped in the living room. At that moment she started to shake, her hand coming upwards and slowly sliding the cigar from her lips. A vast amount of smoke emptied from her lungs and she expelled it away from herself. This was the moment; this was the moment she had been waiting for. She dropped the cigar and turned. She had finished the last of her commands, there was nothing holding her here and her mind was her own. She raced the two steps trying to get back out the door.

The man casually closed the door, just moments before she would have reached it. Her hands went to the knob but he was already whispering to her. “Don’t move, you cannot leave until I say so.”

Officer Jones slowed, she felt the weight of his words on her. She took a deep breath and exhaled, there were still just the slightest hints of the smoke leaving her body. She watched him walk away from her and she looked back down at the knob. Through sheer force of will she gripped it tighter and then began turning it. It was like trying to push a boulder just to move the knob a quarter turn. She was gaining ground when the man walked back up beside her.

He looked down into her eyes. He spoke very calmly. “You can’t leave…you still have so much to do. You need to smoke for me.” He was bringing the cigar back up to her lips but she began to speak, quickly. “No..no..no no no, no nononono” and there was no mistake as to the source of the tears flowing down her cheeks now. He pressed the cigar against her lips and she curled them slightly, turning her head. It was all her power not to obey and she turned the knob until the audible click of the door could be heard.

The man reached up and slipped his fingers under her chin. He worked his hand up and pinched the sides of her mouth. The sharp pain startled her and even though she fought against it, a small chink was created in her armor. As her lips parted just a faction, he worked the cigar slowly into her mouth. Even though she was fighting, the cigars smoke entered her nose with every breath and her lips parted just a little more. Finally, the cigar worked its way through her lips and past her teeth. He pushed so that her tongue slipped under the cigar and it fit snugly into the entranceway of her throat.

They waited there, for several seconds, forcibly holding her head amidst her weak struggles. He stared deeply into her eyes and she pleaded with him through her gaze. She begged and pleaded without ever saying a wood. Finally, a look of pain moved over her and she lips curled, her chest pulled up and she took another load of the smoke into her body.

“That’s it. That’s a good girl. Smoke for me.” He encouraged and she obediently made the end of the cigar glow for a half a dozen seconds, holding the smoke inside of herself and then slowly releasing it. He watched as her pupils dilated, turning into huge beautiful saucers of pitch blackness. He held her there, encouraging her, as she smoked for another minute.

“You cannot leave until I say so.” he whispered to her, and her hands dropped from the door knob. She slowly stood erect again and continued to smoke obediently, but the tears continued to flow from the edges of her eyes. The man guided her into the middle of the room. He whistled softly and four other people joined them, entering from the kitchen.

Leading the small pack was a middle aged blonde woman who was wearing a lab coat, but absolutely nothing underneath. Her face said volumes about her life experience and it held a very motherly feeling in it. All of that was almost unnoticeable as a short, incredibly wide cigar was also held in her lips, signifying her enslavement. Behind her, were three skinny young girls. Each of them moved more robotically than the slave in front of them. Each wore a gas mask fitted with their own huge cigars. These drones showed no expression on their latex faces and only smoked dutifully and obeyed.

Officer Jones began to breath erratically, as her eyes slowly began to regain their focus as she saw the drones, each of them barely human, standing before her. She swayed a little beside the man and her deep breaths of cigar smoke became short puffs.

“Don’t worry, Officer, you won’t be made into a drone.” said the man, his face drawing up into a smile “I can make drones any time I need them, they are simple. It’s always simple to just wipe someone’s memory and personality. However, drones are simply useless outside of manual labor and sex.”

The man walked over to the slave in front of the girls. He put her hands on her shoulders and the woman seemed relaxed with him around her. “It’s much harder to create a slave who keeps part of her personality, who can have the initiative to move forward with orders. This woman is the first slave to come close to being a slave I can send out in public. I have been unable to recreate the event which turned her this way. I think it has something to do with her being the mother of one of these drones.”

“I like that she can be sent to do thing, but she requires a lot of cigar smoke to keep obedient and that makes her stick out. “the man continued, as he walked back over to Officer Jones. “You will be the next experiment, I’m going to keep your mind intact and you will be my next slave. I have a great many plans for you.” He placed his hands on her shoulders, and whispered into her ear. “Follow this slave, do as she tells you, continue to smoke and obey.”

Officer Jones trembled slightly, but her lips were able to part just enough with the huge cigar in her mouth to eek out a sound which resembled “Yes, sir.” She then obediently, but not robotically, followed the slave and the three drones down the hall. Meanwhile, the man passed time sitting at his laptop making some final corrections and adjustments.

Eventually, the man finalized his input and strode down the hall. He pushed open a steel interior door which seemed entirely out of the place in the very “lived in” house and entered a room which stood somewhere between operating room and science lab. There was a lightly cushioned table in the middle of the room and on the front edge sat Officer Jones, naked. Her belts and clothes were in a basket nearby. She was quietly smoking a fresh cigar, this one slightly smaller than the one she had entered the house with. The slave was tending to her, using a razor and liberal amount of cream to shave her head down very smooth. Arrayed in a semicircle around the head of the table were the three drones, each with fresh, very long cigars extending from their masks and they created a small cloud over their portion of the room.

“How close are we, slave?” he asked, and the blonde woman removed her cigar for a moment to reply, “Less than five minutes, my Master” before returning the cigar and continuing her work. She toweled off the dark ebony skin of Officer Jones’ bald head. The man worked a set of controls and dials at the wall, until a large white ceramic tube began to decent from the ceiling above Officer Jones.

The man walked over to the table as the slave moved aside. “Officer Jones, I know you probably don’t care, but this will be very special. I’ve never had the chance to specifically collect data from a subject and then have the time to tailor a brainwashing program to suit the data. You’ll be the first.”

He watched as more tears slowly rolled down Officer Jones’ eyes and down her cheeks. He reached up and slowly slipped the cigar from her mouth, placing it on a nearby tray. She looked at him, pleadingly. She exhaled smoke and continued to breathe deeply in an attempt to get all of the smoke out of her system. “Please. Don’t do this…I’ll do anything…” she said.

He pressed a button on the side of the table and the ceramic cylinder started to lower down, very slowly coming down over Officer Jones’ head. He smiled as he looked into her eyes “Goodbye, Officer Jones, it was a pleasure knowing you.” He watched as she started to break down and cry while the tube covered her. It stopped just before it would have touched her shoulders. There were several nozzles on the outside of the tube. After a few seconds the sound of sobbing quieted and the light from the spiraling show of lights inside the tube could be see reflected on the skin of her collarbone.

“Now, to begin reprograming her emotions.” He said, almost to himself, as he motioned the drones forward. Reaching up to each of their masks he pulled long tubes from the canisters which represented the exhalation ports. He pulled each of them out and hooked them up, one by one, until six tubes were coming from the three drones and were connected to the tube over Officer Jones’ head.

He looked at the drones and said only, “Smoke for your Master.” Each drone then began to smoke viciously, sucking hard deep breaths in that caused the huge cigars inserted into their masks to glow bright orange. They each smoked in succession of each other, but no smoke could be seen coming from their masks as it was pumped into the tube around Officer Jones’ head.

For the first hour, only soft grunts could be heard from inside the tube. Eventually a line of saliva came out of the bottom of the tube and fell onto the ebony skin of her breasts. Over that hour Officer Jones could be heard alternating between mantras of “I Obey. I Obey. I Obey” and pleading “No, No…No!” in despair. All was interspaced with monotonic repetition of “I am a cigarslave, I am a cigarslave, I am a cigarslave.”

Well into the third hour, just as the blonde slave replaced the cigars inside the drone’s masks for a third time, the screaming began. It continued for the entirety of the hour, becoming more and more painful and horrified. It came to the point that the slave turned and looked with a face of concern at the tube and the woman trapped within. The man walked over towards her and said “It’s okay. It’s not physical pain. It’s the pain of losing everything that she is. It’s to the point where her sense of self is being rewritten. By example, her love of dancing is being replaced by a love for power. Her sense of right and wrong are being warped to suit what I have planned for her.” The slave looked somewhat relieved.

By the time that the cigars were changed in the drones for a fifth time, the subject inside the tube had stopped screaming, she had returned to drooling and muttering over and over to herself. The drone themselves started to falter, dropping to their knees. The man walked over and slowly disconnected each one from the machine. “I’m afraid that these drones are finally spent. I believe they’ve outlived their usefulness.” He reached down and slowly removed the masks from Drone 26’s face. Underneath the mask was, what was once, the beautiful face of a teenage girl not it was darkened slightly by the constant exposure to smoke. The drone’s eyes were completely white, without iris’ or pupils and there was no hint of thought inside of them. Once the mask was off, the drone started to wheeze slightly until the man removed the cigar from the mask and returned it to the slave’s mouth.

He continued down the line, revealing each girl under their masks. He had them stand back up after they had recovered enough to rise, wobbling, from their knees. He looked at the slave. “They are done, and need to be disposed of while they can still walk. I want you to take them in Officer Jones’ car out to the seaside and have them walk off the side of the cliff. That way the bodies will be found and probably ruled suicides.”

The slaves face changed drastically, her eyes widening in fear. She slowly reached up and pulled the cigar from her lips. Her mouth worked for several seconds. “M..mu….mu..Master…I can’t do that..” she said. There was fear in her eyes, and those eyes turned from her master back to drone 26 several times.

The man looked oddly at the slave and then, with a glance upwards as he remembered. “Oh, that’s right…Listen, forget that order. That would be cruel of me.” He said, and the slave suddenly relaxed. A moment after she seemed to drift back into lazy servitude. The man hefted Drone 26’s mask and held it’s opening towards the slaves face. “Slave, look into this..” he said, as he turned the mask back on. Multicolored rays of light were produced from the mask in a spiraling pattern. The slave, unthinkingly, looked directly into the mask. Within seconds her eyes widened and her iris’ began to disappear. Her pupils turned to pinpricks just as the mask was sealed over her face. The man pulled the straps tight against the back of her head.

Drone 26 stood there, unmoving, for several seconds before she slowly lifted her cigar and placed it into the inhalation vent of her mask. She took a long draw from a cigar that she would not touch with her fingers again. The man looked the drone over and then said. “Drive the three spent drones to the seaside cliff north of here and let them out of the car, then drive back.” He told her, and then turned to the drones. “You will jump off the next cliff you see”. Each drone, spent and freshly minted alike, only answered by sucking deeply on their cigars. They then slowly filed out of the room.

He turned back to Officer Jones, examining the ceramic tube which surrounded her head. He pressed a button on the side of the table and the tube slid back up towards the ceiling. As the cigarslaves face was slowly revealed, she still has smoke coming from her nose, eyes, ears and her gaping mouth. Her eyes contained no semblance of human eyes, they were only a black and white spiral that covered their entirety. He reached up and carefully pushed the skin back around her eyes so that he could see that the lines of the spiral wrapped all the way around her eye balls.

The man took a small towel and began to wipe off the drool which had accumulated on the front of the woman’s body. While he was cleaning her up, she began to move. Her mouth made a couple of soft sucking sounds and her eyes slowly tried to look away from a spiral that was no longer in front of her. The man backed up just a little and watched his new creation mentally stumble into being.

“What…. what am I doing?” she said, as she blinked her spiral eyes a few times. She looked at him, with as though trying to puzzle out who he was. “Oh…” she muttered, and then looked at her clothes, piled in the corner. The man smiled at her, and backed another step away. “What should you be doing?” he asked her.

“Oh my god…I need to go to work” she said, completely oblivious to the actual time. She slid off the table and walked over to her clothes.

The man, his smile now full of amusement, asked “Why?” She glanced over at him as if it were a dumb question, and answered “Because I must get a promotion, I need a promotion badly.” She said, as if she were telling him something that had been true her entire life.

“How are you going to do that?” he asked, now knowing that the changes in her had taken, but he needed to play out the entire script until she understood herself.

“I’m going to fuck my superior until he gives me a promotion.” She answered, while turning her pants the correct way out.

“And if they won’t promote you because you fuck them then how will you convince them?” He guided.

“I will blackmail them; they will give it to me when I send threaten to send their wives a few photos of us fucking.” She responded, but she started to seem confused. She was sure she shouldn’t be saying this out loud, but she couldn’t deny his questions. She continued to pick through her mess of clothing.

The man sat down in a chair which was by some computer monitors. He lightly folded his hands together in front of him and prompted her again. “What if that doesn’t work?”

Seemingly annoyed that she had to explain what was so simple in her mind, Officer Jones continued. “When we fuck, I will make them call me their nigger slave…I will record it all secretly and then if they won’t promote me I will call them racists and threaten to release the tapes.”

“What if your superior is a woman?”

“I will seduce them, I will expose them…to…my….to my…” he stopped and started looking around. She searched the room with her eyes, before walking over to a box sitting beside the table. She opened it and reached inside, pulling out a cigar. The box was almost empty, having fed dozens of cigars to the slaves which had been sacrificed to create her. She started at it for several seconds. “to…my…. cigar smoke” she finished. She stared at the thick cigar, holding it in her hands with her fingertips. She looked at the cigar, and then back to the man in the corner of the room, going back and forth between them as she realized more and more about her life.

“I think you’re finally ready to answer the last question.” He smiled, still amused by her journey of self-discovery. “Why are you going to do all this?”

She was still looking at the cigar, and she didn’t answer right away. “because, you need someone in power, because I must cover up for you when things go…astray…I’m going to do it because…because…” She turned the cigar in her fingers several times. “…because…” she lifted the cigar to her ebony lips, sliding the end of it into her mouth. She lit the cigar slowly with the nearby lighter and then exhaled. “…because I am your slave.” Her voice was muffled by the cigar between her lips.

“Who are you?” the man asked, as he leaned back in the chair and unzipped his pants. He pulled out his cock and left it exposed to the cool air of the lab.

She moved towards him now, taking sultry steps as she approached. She kneeled down and removed the cigar slowly from her mouth. She picked his cock up in her hand and said. “I am Shaniqua, your cigarslave.” Before blowing smoke over his cock and taking it into her mouth.

The morning after next, Shaniqua walked down the driveway back to her SUV. She wore all of her police uniform, except her gun belt which was looped over her shoulder. One hand was feeding her cigar to her mouth as she walked along, while the other hand was texting her Captain, already planting the seeds that would grow into a scandalous affair. She wore sclera contact lenses now, giving her spiral eyes a normal human appearance, but making them a more seductive quality.

She, in almost every way, was perfectly undercover. As long as she could hold her new urge to smoke at bay, few people would notice a difference in Officer Jones. However, once Shaniqua took them to bed, they would discover a new side of her.

As she reached the car, she looked back towards the front window of the house and smiled at the man inside. It was a quiet, knowing smile.