The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Olivia’s Investigations—Our Mutual Friend

The chat room known as Controlspace was unusually quiet this morning. A few people were lazing around, but most of them were busy elsewhere on the Internet, and probably wouldn’t even notice who came in. It was that awkward time when the parts of the world where most of the liberal net-users came from, it was either time to work or time to sleep. The few people online at this stage were either people with very understanding policies on office computer use, like magazine columnist SullenlySusan, were in a relatively uncommon timezone, like the mysterious Someone Else, or were students eagerly awaiting the start of term, like newcomer CallmeCandy.

“Have you read any of those sort of stories?” Candy asked. It wasn’t the first time she’d asked that here, but it always seemed to be a good way to break the ice when she drew a blank for something to say. And when she got an answer, it was often quite informative. She loved reading stories of hypnosis and mind control, but there were so many authors out there that she would never have run across half of the really good ones without someone else’s recommendation.

“I never went into stories so much,” Someone Else replied slowly, “I much prefer the real thing. But then, there’s some that give you some really good ideas about the kind of things that are possible.”

“Like in Taking Tracy” Susan offered a smile to the room. It was a few moments before Someone Else replied, giving Candy time to look up the story on her laptop.

“No, not like that stuff!” Someone Else paused between lines again, leading Susan to wonder if he was searching for an exasperated smiley face to express his confusion. But then he continued: “I know that one, maybe it’s kinky, but half the stuff that guy does isn’t even possible. When I read fiction, I usually go for something like Busman’s Holiday, it can show you stuff that’s really possible, so I can try it out on my harem.”

“You have a harem?” Candy said, not sure if she should be amazed, disgusted, or just not believe the claim, “Like dozens of girls being slaves to your every wit?”

“Something like that,” he boasted, “Well, maybe half a dozen, anyway. And there’s plenty more on here I’ve hypnotised, that I could easily make into slaves if I really wanted to.”

“Some of them might even be women in the real world, too,” Susan added.

“Hey!” Candy was obviously upset by that comment, her next comment typed quickly with too many mistakes. “I’m really a girl! Why would you say I’m not???”

“Sorry,” Susan responded just as quickly, but didn’t lose her cool, “I didn’t mean to imply anything. Just find it funny that you both think of a harem as a group of just females, but as long as we’re just communicating with text and smiley faces, there’s no way you can know the gender of your slave girls.”

“I wouldn’t ask them,” Someone Else offered, and his next line of chat was so quick that he had to have copied it from somewhere else on his computer: “We don’t ask your real world identity on here. We expect you to take everyone at their word as far as age, gender, ethnicity, and anything else is concerned. This is a place where it’s safe to be yourself, even if that doesn’t match up with the body or genes you were born with.”

“I was about to say that!” Susan responded, “I guess you’re right, though. I was only speculating about the proportions, but too close to the line. I didn’t mean to second guess how anyone presents themself. You say you’re a girl, so you are. And I’m sorry if you thought I was questioning that. It really wasn’t my intention. Can I offer you a glass of wine?”

Candy gratefully accepted the hypothetical glass, and then resumed asking Someone Else about where he had managed to get an actual harem. It couldn’t have been easy to set up, even in a place like this where so many girls fantasized about being helpless slaves.

“You’d be surprised,” Someone Else replied, “A lot of girls just come in and ask to be put in trance, and I’m usually happy to oblige. Unless they’re like some kind of bunny boiler or something. But then there’s a few who start calling me Master or Sir afterwards, that kind of thing. The feeling of being controlled – which might be temporary obedience for some, or a feeling rather than a reality for others – turns them on so much that they don’t want to let go of it, and then they ask to join the harem.”

After a moment’s silence, though it wasn’t easy to tell if anyone was merely still typing their reply, Candy segued into a question that had been on her mind for a few days now: “How do you hypnotise people if you haven’t met them? Can you do it on the phone or something?”

“It’s all about the words,” AllyKat sauntered in just as Candy was typing, and realised she could probably answer faster than whoever the question was directed at. She was more direct than most people on here, extremely forward, but never saw the point in just saying ‘Hi’ if there was anything else to talk about. “You can be tranced just by listening to a hypnotist’s voice, I guess, but its the words that matter, not the voice. The same words work just as well when you read them.”

“I still haven’t tried that,” Livvy Durden waved from the corner, “Hi guys.” She had left her computer on all night, in the chat room but not actually there. so she felt it was simply good manners to offer a greeting, so that everyone knew she was there even though they hadn’t seen her come in. She could see that there was already a conversation going on, so decided to stay quiet for now.

“I mean,” Ally continued, “That’s how I got here…

❧ May, the Year Before

She was an innocent girl, too young to be interested in all that weird stuff. Or so she kept on telling herself. But when certain things came on TV, she’d find the images repeating over and over in her mind. A woman in some superhero show had her mind stolen, and looked so happy as she fell into a deep, magical sleep. The puppets on Dark Gate, and the zombie slaves in Urban Nightmare, always looked so happy, and she couldn’t stop herself wondering how it would really feel, in the dark moments before sleep when her only companion was her own thoughts.

If anyone asked, she’d say it was just her mind wandering. Surely everyone does that, right? She denied it to herself, as well, told herself she was entirely normal. She wasn’t getting all crazy about boys, she could ignore the impulses from her body if she really wanted to. Maybe next year she’d fall in love, but that was what she was looking forward to. If she had a dream of three guys, or ten, manhandling her unconscious body while she found her muscles unwilling to resist, that was just a fluke, a one off. Those thoughts didn’t really turn her on, and she wouldn’t have that dream again with different guys every time. Every time she woke soaked in sweat, she told herself it was just a one off, that she was completely normal and it wouldn’t happen again.

One Thursday evening, she was struggling with her homework and decided to take a break. Well, that wasn’t unusual. She really hoped she could find a college course that wouldn’t involve so much time management and effort, because she wasn’t so good at keeping focused on something so boring for more than half an hour. She really didn’t know what she wanted to do with her future, though, which led to her having very little idea if she actually wanted to study or not.

At one point, she’d thought that if she could just get organised, she could even be a teacher. Now it was clear what a bad idea that was. She’d tried to help one of her younger friends with a school project, maths, and found that she couldn’t even remember half the stuff the class was learning about. She’d borrowed a disk with some notes on it, and said she’d check them out when she had time. But she didn’t even remember how to do this stuff. They must have covered it last year, but nothing came to mind. So much for helping her friend out!

She settled down in front of the computer, carefully arranging the cushions first to make sure she’d be comfortable. She took even more care than usual, telling herself that she’d need to be extra comfortable now she was doing something important for a friend. Really, she knew she was just putting off the moment she’d look at the little girl’s homework and not be able to understand it, let alone offer advice. Eventually, she opened up the disk, and looked around frantically for anything she could use to put off that moment of realisation.

There were other things on the disk, of course. It had just been the first one within reach. The first attempt at writing a novel, maybe, but she respected her friend’s privacy too much to read into that before it was finished. Maybe there was some older homework on here, some exercise on this Lamarck’s Formula that would jog her memory. The files weren’t at all organised, though. Some of them had names with a date at the beginning, and then the subject, and then some other numbers that might be a module number. But others seemed to have names chosen completely at random.

Morpheus_evidence.log

That certainly sounded interesting. This girl had an interest in classical mythology, and the name caught her attention instantly. Here friend wouldn’t mind her looking at that, surely? Never mind that it was a hidden file, buried in a hidden folder named simply “Stuff”. She wasn’t trying to pry, really, but she couldn’t even keep up the lie to herself.

She started reading the mysterious file. It was a conversation between two people on an internet chat room. She couldn’t make much sense out of what they were saying, though. One of them might be her friend, which was very worrying when she came to lines like “<MorpheusXIV> Do you know how easy it would be for me to take advantage of you?”. In fact, it was terrifying, because the girl just treated it like a game.

She read on, not wanting to turn away from this until she was sure it wasn’t the most innocent person she knew, that was talking on and on to the stranger. Morpheus kept on making comments about how the poor little victim couldn’t look away if she wanted to, her curiosity would keep her restrained, and then she’d come back for more. It was the kind of creepy thing that should have any girl running a mile; but the girl here kept teasing, even taunting.

It wasn’t her young friend, she was sure by the end. She knew too much, knew so many things about this weird corner of the world. She didn’t talk like a child. It must have been someone else who’d borrowed that disk before, that would explain the different naming systems. So, giving up for now on providing maths help, she could go to bed reassured.

She couldn’t sleep, though. Couldn’t stop thinking about the things Master Morpheus had said, the way he’d shaped his words like hooks that dig into the reader’s imagination and won’t let go. She could easily imagine being on the receiving end of that, finding that she couldn’t disobey. It was so easy to imagine that Master would come to her now and take her, abuse her, show her all the wonderful and terrible things that her friends were experimenting with, and never once listen to her protests that she wanted to be sure she was ready.

The third time she woke, the first traces of sunlight already on the horizon, she knew what she was going to do without ever having made a decision. She was going to go to this Controlspace site and find Master MorpheusXIV. She was going to demand that he call her up any hypnotise her, let his voice own her. She was going to beg him to do all the things he’d threatened the other girl with, and she could just imagine his surprise at finding a victim so eager to know how it felt.

She couldn’t wait to let Master hypnotise her for the first time. Of course, that was a long time ago. She didn’t know yet that hypnosis was about the words more than the voice. She didn’t know that it was possible to take control of someone just with written words on a screen. She was sure he’d hypnotise her when she asked, and she was looking forward to it with such aroused anticipation, she never suspected that he already had.