The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

1.

The culture of Ghedyprime was conditioned by its history and ecology. Once a rather typical semi-arid world of the Million World Imperium, its arrogant Hark’n overlords had so abused that ecology that it was now nearly as arid as Arra, the world where the precious spice worms lived, the world the Hark’n baron craved more than any other. Now Ghedyprime relied upon mining deep into the planet for its economy and its inhabitants lived in closed arkologies, vast enclosed cities delved into the bones of the world.

The Hark’n baron was involved, at this moment, in convoluted imperial infighting over control of that other world, but his mastery of his homeworld was not in any way challenged. This story is not about the great matters of empire, but rather about a peculiar military institution of Ghedyprime, the gladiator slaves and the culture of might that would shortly lead to the downfall of the Hark’n and the liberation of even its people by a Messiah from the depths of space. That, though, would be years hence and at this time only a few seers had seen the hints that something was going to happen. To all the inhabitants of Ghedyprime things were as they had always been and always would be: the mastery of the Hark’n unending and deep in their minds.

The world had been ruined by its owners and the inhabitants of the world did not know this. They only knew what they were told; they only believed what they had always believed. In these techniques of mind control the Hark’n were as advanced as any of the powerful families of the Imperium. They lived in a cruel, controlled world and saw nothing wrong in the lives they were constrained to live.

The baron’s favorite nephew, Faidruath, “beautiful Faid” to his lecherous uncle, was addicted to the gladiatorial combats that provided both diversion to the ruling class and military training to its privileged, genetically enhanced sons. As it would not do to have these jaded youths always destroy each other, the system of gladiator slavery was developed. There were always more than enough commoners in the teeming cities to impress into the games. They were taken as young boys and trained rigorously at wilderness labor camps and in the mines. The best survived to challenge the privileged, and to die in their turn.

Our story opens with a scene the reader may remember from that other story. Faid and a certain gladiator slave are battling in the formal style of the Hark’n baronial Dojo. They are at the large arena. The announcer had disclaimed, “Fight to the True Death!” The two fighters bow to each other formally and strove their utmost to kill each other. The gladiator was taller and stronger than Lord Faid. He moved with the studied steadiness of the miners of the underworld. His physical type was a contrast to the sinewy grace of the young nobleman, but he was of the same race and genetic line. They fought recklessly and Faid became enraged as he felt the pain of a couple of his ribs cracking under the furious assault of the gladiator.

While his opponent was skilled and the survivor of many combats, Faid, though in great pain (“Pain is in the mind; we Hark’n control minds...") as always, triumphed. As he broke the neck of his defeated opponent, he looked up to the high balcony, to see a special and not wholly expected visitor: the Imperial Princess Iras, visiting again for the pleasure his strength and youth could offer her. Their relationship could bring his family close, very close, to the Imperial Throne. He was doubly pleased.

As he strode from the crumpled body of the dying gladiator he passed one of the medics attached to the Dojo, “Listen doctor, that one fought well, have your staff start his heart again and repair him. Come to me quickly, I think his kick broke one of my ribs; it needs to be set and bound as Her Highness is here to see me...” The imperial mind conditioned medic bowed deeply as he passed.

2.

Some days later, after a satiated Princess had returned to the imperial capitol world, Faid was back at the Dojo exercising when he noticed the same medic, “Were you able to resurrect that gladiator I defeated last week.” “Yes lord, he is mending well. It was kind of you to allow him to live.” “Kind, doctor? I see you are not Hark’n. I do not intend such weakness. No, rather, I will punish him and drive him to such rage that he will become an even more formidable gladiator. He will be banished to the slave mines and will have to, if he can, fight his way through the lesser Dojos before he can face me again. I think I shall visit him to implant the right attitude in his mind. While you have been conditioned by imperial mind control to save lives, we Hark’n have been conditioned by our world to eat the lives of lesser men. I was not motivated by kindness.” The medic bowed deeply, “He is in room 2323 in the medical wing, lord.”

Faid did not knock on the door as he entered. The lighting was low. The room was bare except for a platform in the center, a couple feet high, on which the naked gladiator appeared to be sleeping. His wrists and ankles were bound to the platform. There was a control panel attached to it.

The young nobleman stood a few moments looking at the specimen bound before him. Unlike Faid’s bright red hair and fair skin, typical of the Hark’n upper class, he had the darker bronze coloring and deeper red hair, short cropped, of what had been, when the world was a more hospitable place, the farming peasant class. The gladiator slave was stocky and well-muscled. Looking at his big hands and bulging pecs, strong legs and big feet, Faid understood how his ribs had cracked. No other gladiator had ever hurt him as much.

The slave was in a state of induced mind-numbed sleep, no doubt receiving standard mind inputs through the control implants all slaves had in their skulls, behind the ears. He would not be aware of his owner standing there.

Faid reached out and stroked the big slave’s strong chest, firm even in sleep, so unlike the silky softness of Princess Ira. As he rolled one of the slave’s big nipples between his fingers, he was somewhat surprised to see the man’s penis begin to thicken and stiffen, where it had lain limp between his bulky thighs. “Well,” he thought, “much of the mind control patter used with these gladiators has a sexual content, so his unconscious response is to be expected.”

He continued to touch the slave, wondering what it felt like to be owned and controlled as they were. With one hand still massaging the gladiator’s pecs, he reached between his legs to weigh the man’s hefty testicles. “Probably produces a lot of sperm when he’s allowed.” The slave’s erection stiffened noticeably. Faid could smell the high level of testosterone that seemed to ooze through the slave’ pores. A glistening bubble of precum formed in the slit of his erection where it now stood tall and proud, thrusting above the bound and sleeping gladiator.

Moving his hand to the thick shaft, he began to idly stroke it, while he considered how best to continue training the gladiator. Without particularly noticing that he was doing it, he brought his other hand to the erection and with his thumb and fingers massaged the precum around the foreskin, lubricating it so the glans became fully exposed. He licked the precum from his fingers, deeply inhaling. He remembered his uncle doing something similar to him when he was a boy. The old lech had never forced himself on Faid, but he had brought the boy to orgasm several times in his warm mouth. But that was a long time ago, and now he wondered how this slave’s manhood tasted. He leaned forward and touched the glans with his tongue. A new drop of precum filled the slit. He licked it, nearly drunk from the flavor. Then he began to suck on it, holding the slave’s testicles with one hand while resting the other on his taut belly. In just a few seconds he could feel the gladiator’s muscles tense, his erection pulse, releasing a mouthful of thick sperm that Faid swallowed. It tasted creamy and salty, as of the vanished seas of Ghedyprime.

He stepped back, rather surprised at himself. He did, however, enjoy the flavor and thought the testosterone and aminos in the sperm were probably good nutrition. Perhaps he should have gladiator slave sperm collected for him. Ingesting it regularly might be useful. The sleeping slave’s erection remained stiffly up-thrust.

He reached over and caressed the short-cropped hair crowning the gladiator’s well-shaped head, stroking the burly neck and shoulders. “Time to wake up sleeping beauty.” Faid touched the control panel twice. The room lights brightened a bit and the slave stirred, opened his eyes and glared at the young nobleman, straining at his bonds.

“You appear to be healing well, slave.” Faid opened his Gi, exposing his bandaged ribs, “I am healing as well. You lived because you came close to beating me. But, as you lost, you must be punished and taught to fight with true mindlessness.” Still gritting his teeth, the gladiator continued staring at his owner. “Your anger is good, slave. You may speak.”

The slave’s deep voice spoke slowly, “This one hopes you are still in pain, young baron.” Faid smiled and placed a hand on the gladiator’s chest. “I should have been allowed to die. That was my right.” “You have no rights slave. You will live or die at my choosing. Tomorrow you will be shipped out to a labor camp I own—the one where you were trained as a boy. There you will work the mines again and learn humility, starting as a penal slave. Perhaps in a year you will be allowed to fight your way out of the pit and, if you can, fight your way back to my Dojo. For now, though, since you are bound and unable to resist, you are mine to do as I please.”

“I will not submit to you. No man has ever been able to force me!” “Well, where I am sending you, you could be forced, but I do not do that; I don’t play in crap holes. No, I will teach you a different style of pleasure, slave. You will understand that, in my own way, I let you live for the love I have for what you are.”

Faid stripped off his Gi, dropped his trousers, climbed naked on top of the strong gladiator. He stretched himself across the nude slave’s brawny muscles, snuggling against him, and in doing so, rubbing against his erection. The nobleman’s own manhood responded as he rhythmically moved, skin to skin.

“Now, slave, close your eyes and carefully listen to the sound of my voice.” The gladiator obeyed. “Good, breathe with me and focus.” Faid began to speak trigger words and preset mind control phrases to the relaxing slave, first into one ear, then into the other, his lips brushing the slave’s face and he moved back and forth, their bodies undulating in time. Soon the master became wordless, letting his lips explore the slave’s sturdy neck and shoulder muscles, noting the small scar where the medics had worked.

The gladiator’s pungent, manly aromas overwhelmed him, as he thrust against the hardness of the body bound beneath him, feeling waves of desire and delight. He could feel their two stiff penises rubbing each other, stimulating and driving them together. Then wave after wave or orgasm overtook him, and as he came, the gladiator’s erection bulged and also spewed over and over again. Faid raised himself and quickly licked the slave’s hard stomach muscles, slurping up their warm, mixed emissions. Then he stretched again across the gladiator’s bound body. The two collapsed together, breathing still ragged and then calming, ‘til, breathing together, they both fell into a deep sleep.

Faid awoke to see the stolid gladiator slave staring straight at the ceiling, eyes wide open. He raised himself up until he was gazing into the man’s bright brown eyes, “So you see that I love your masculinity, your strength, your man cream, all here for my pleasure. If ever you are able to fight your way back to my Dojo, and we fight, I may again preserve you, so you may be bound before me, so I may show you that I value you, like some brave steed of the olden days, or a precious work, or other possession of mine that brings me great pleasure. But only if you fight, fight, and fight harder than you could ever imagine. Do you understand, slave?”

The gladiator gazed back, responding in the ancient affirmative of the Dojo, “Hai, master!”

3.

The next day two of the nobleman’s guards came for the slave, with stun sticks and a cage on wheels. After jolting him so he would be too numb to resist, he was bound naked in the cage, latched wrists and ankles to it. A bright red ball bit had been forced into his mouth.

As they rolled him down the corridor the two guards talked to each other as though he were not present.

“Hmm, our instructions come from Faidruath himself; say we are to be very strict with this slave, ‘Abuse but no damage.’ Huh—the young lord has strange ways,”

“He is one of the young baron’s gladiators. Heard he fights well.”

“Not well enough, he’s being transferred to the young master’s penal mine. A tough place.”

“I know, but he doesn’t send his enemies there to be destroyed; it’s a place for soldiers or gladiators who he thinks need some toughening, seasoning. I worked there a season, once after a brawl where I took the worst of it.”

“Well, he’ll get that for sure where he’s going!”

One of the guards jolted the sturdy, naked and silent slave a couple more times as they pushed his cage toward the transport.