The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Wednesday

Lindsay tried to separate the egg yolks without getting them on her private school uniform. She liked making Tracy’s super-healthy breakfast of a glassful of yolks and grilled Brussels sprouts because she had refused any financial contribution to the household since she moved in.

But, looking at her plaid skirt, white stockings, starched white shirt, plaid vest and blue tie, she decided in the future it might be safer to cook first and dress for class at Eastlake School for Young Ladies second.

Tracy then bounded into the kitchen. Her work outfit, if one could call a blue thong and a too-small blue sports bra with the Spa logo on it business wear, left little to the imagination.

She gulped down the glass quickly and attacked the sprouts.

“Tracy, I got to go to school soon. Wanted to let you know I’ll be a bit late as I am getting inducted into the Girls Social Society. Very exclusive, only eight others are in it.”

“That’s OK, I’ll be running a bit late myself,” said Tracy. “I have to meet with Francine. She is one of our top fitness instructors and thought she would be named manager and is a bit ticked she got passed over for me. Hope we can smooth things over.”

“Trace,” said Lindsay as she sat down to her breakfast of oatmeal and wheat toast with a serious look. “Don’t get me wrong, I love being with you and wouldn’t want to be any place else. But, is this kind of thing, like, normal. Do have to worry about people trying to enslave me, like, every day.

“I mean, my mom isn’t going to be too happy if she finds out I spent the last two nights in a police station giving depositions.”

Tracy put down the last sprout.

“Don’t worry Lindse,” she said with a smile. “The last couple days were just an incredible coincidence. Good looking chicks do walk around with no concern of someone taking over their head. Don’t worry about.”

‘Thanks Tracy,” said Lindsay as she got up and gave her a hug and a big kiss.

(That afternoon)

“I am a slave, my life is one of slavery and serving my Mistress,” said Tracy as she was on her knees, naked, in front of Francine.

Tracy then buried her head in Francine’s pussy and began lapping for the third time in the last 15 minutes.

Francine grabbed Tracy’s mane of brown wavy hair and thrust her face in deeper as she threw her head back in triumph, as well as to savor the expert licking she was receiving.

The hypodermic needle that she had injected a woozy Tracy with in the base of her neck, along with the chloroformed-soaked cloth that had disabled her, still lay on the nearby table, with two uneaten salads as well.

Francine said she was going to the bathroom and from behind, had chloroformed her and then plunged it into her neck from behind and pushed all the mind control liquid into her skull.

Within seconds of waking up, Tracy had become non-responsive and glassy-eyed. Only when Francine ordered her to kiss her feet had she moved.

While Tracy stood about 5-foot-9 with her femininity accentuated by her muscle definition and lack of body fat, Francine had been referred to as a living Amazon. She had long, straight blonde hair, was 6-foot-2 and rippled with muscle.

Although she had seniority, her overwhelming physical presence intimidated women customers - and the fact she was a total bitch who thought everyone was inferior to her - had caused Tracy to get the head job when it became open.

Her slit gushed once again pussy juice as she came, pushing Tracy’s face into her box to absorb the full force of what her tongue had done.

Following the last spasm, Francine pushed Tracy away. The drugged woman had no instructions so she simply fell to the floor on her back. Francine looked down upon the dazed and cum-streaked face of her nemesis.

“It cost me $10,000 and doing some things I’m not proud of, like having sex with a man, to get the CIA guy to give me a vial of the mind control drug,” she sneered as she gently put the bottom of her red latex thigh-high boot on Tracy’s neck. “But it was worth it.

“Anyhow, I’ll get the money back quickly. You no longer are a person in your own right, you live simply to serve me, so you will sign over your house, car, bank accounts and any other worldly possessions that have monetary value, to me.

“You can keep the strips of Spandex you call clothing.”

“I obey your wishes, I am not a person, I am yours,” said Tracy looking up at her new owner, no thoughts except obeying Francine in her head.

“Since your paycheck will from now on be going into my bank account, I’ve decided to let you still officially be the manager of the Spa,” said Francine, now moving her boot to just above Tracy’s head. “You can do all the shit work, filling out forms, going to corporate meetings. I’ll be telling you what to do as my personal puppet. Right?”

“Yes, I am your puppet, I will obey,” said Tracy.

Francine then put the toe of her boot in Tracy’s mouth, pointed to it, and Tracy began licking.

After a few minutes, during which Francine cackled with glee as Tracy tongued her boot, she motioned Tracy to stand up. Tracy was naked, breathing steadily and not moving a muscle.

Francine put her hand on her hips and laughed.

“You know, I could have just made you do something illegal and called the cops on you and be done with you forever,” she said. “Everyone thinks of you as such a Miss Goody Two-Shoes, always promoting healthy living and all your humanitarian women’s causes.

“Maybe when I’m tired of you I will call the cops and have you go to a school and make passes at 14-year-olds, or just order you to become a coke fiend and have you be a pathetic loser living on the street. Haven’t decided.

“Anyhow, on to Part 2 of my plan now that you are mine. That girl who lives with you is smoking. I have some drug left ticketed for her neck. The sight of both of you sleeping on the floor at the foot of my bed as my sex pets is simply scrumptious.

“My CIA guy says it takes 24 hours for the base instructions to be permanent so I want you two drugged up as close together as possible. When can we enslave her? the body who used to be Tracy?”

“She has some afterschool activities today but she should be home about 5,” said Tracy, her glassy stare unchanged.

“Get used to doing my dirty work,” said Francine as she went to her purse and pulled out another needle filled with liquid, a white cloth, a small bottle and handed it to Tracy. “Here is some chloroform. Knock her out and then jab her right in a vein. like I did you.

“When she wakes up, immediately tell her she is now a mindless slave and you are taking her to met her Mistress, and get your butts over to my house.”

“Yes Mistress, I obey,” said Tracy as she looked at the needle.

“Hope your kid is having fun in her last hours before slavery,” said Francine

(At that exact moment in Room 222 of Eastlake School)

“Slavery is all I want, please enslave me Mr. Sales,” said a topless Lindsay as she stood in front of a tall, angular man in his early 40s with a brush cut of brown hair and a pocket-pal filled with pens.

Lindsay jutted out her breasts, took Mr. Sales hands and put his palms on top of them.

“I offer you my breasts as a gift to let me be your slave.”

To Lindsay’s left, there were eight young pretty well-dressed girls sitting at desks staring blankly at a movie screen filled with spirals. They were all mouthing the same word “Slavery”.

When she came in for her initiation in the Society, Sales had explained she would have to watch a video that explained the duties of being a member.

When the movie started, a whirling spiral appeared, and then went to a corner, quickly followed by another giant spiral then soon shrunk and bolted for another corner.

At this point, there were 25 spirals now whirling on the screen. The other girls had urged Lindsay to watch the screen intently and then went silent as soon as the first spiral appeared.

The voice track had filled Lindsay on her future life as a willing slave.

“I don’t know Lindsay,” said Sales in a mock-serious tone as he rubbed gently her creamy white breasts. “Slavery is such an honor. Are sure you are worthy of being my slave?”

Lindsay’s eyes widened and she pushed her breasts even more firmly at Sales.

I know now that to be a successful in society, you have to make sure you find someone in authority to be a slave to; and I can assure you I will be an excellent slave,” she said. “”Slavery is all I want. I need it so bad. Please enslave me Mr. Sales. Pretty please!”

Sales took his hands – slowly – from her breasts with a sigh and took a step back.

“I will make a deal with you Lindsay,” he said. “Raquel tells me you live with the woman who is supposed to have the perfect body. She certainly sounds slave-worthy.

“I will give you a bottle of chloroform. When you go home, knock her out and bring her body to my house. I will write down the address for you. I have a private screening room and we’ll show her what you just saw and you both can be successes in society.”

“Wow, and then we can both be slaves,” said Lindsay with a note of gratitude as she grabbed the white cloth and bottle. “Awesome, thanks Mr. Sales!”

Tracy lived in a comfortable little ranch house on the corner of a secluded section of Malibu.

The house was probably a bit out of the price range of a fitness club manager but the female real estate agent had been ‘convinced’ by Tracy to give her a break on the price.

Lindsay walked into what was now her home as well and quickly whirled to her left, and then the right, to see if Tracy was home yet.

There was no sign of her and a quick shout gave no reply.

Usually, being alone in the house would be a disappointment for Lindsay but this time she was glad because it gave her time to plot. She so badly wanted to be in the Girls Social Society and thought of becoming Mr. Sales slave, and the added bonus of getting Tracy enslaved as well, made her tingle.

She thought of where Tracy would go to first when she came home and decided the closet next to the front door was a perfect place to surprise her with a cloth filled with chloroform.

She poured the chloroform on the cloth in preparation as she padded to the closet. When she opened the door, she stepped back in shock. There was Tracy standing in it.

And she had her own soaked white cloth.

Without a word, Tracy leapt out at Lindsay and they both tumbled to the ground.

Tracy was on top and pushed the cloth into Lindsay’s face.

As The Perfect Body, one would think Tracy could easily overpower a high school kid. But her body had been sculpted to emphasize her curves and femininity, not to be some over-muscled bodybuilder, which is why her body stood out so much.

And Lindsay was not some girly-girl weakling. She stood a solid 5-foot-11 and, despite her problems, had been a star on the Eastlake soccer and swimming teams. She had originally met Tracy at the spa seeking advice on being more flexible.

And she would not go down without a fight. In her controlled mind, her standing in school and future depended on winning this fight; and she thought she was doing Tracy a big favor by making her a slave as well.

Lindsay quickly reversed things and she was on top now, pushing her chloroform soaked cloth into Tracy’s face.

The two rolled around the living room floor; cloths desperately pushed in each other’s face.

Each was still in the clothes they had on from when they left this morning.

Tracy’s bottom was soon torn away, revealing her hairless pussy, while Lindsay’s skirt went off quickly, soon followed by her tie and top, leaving her to fight in her pink-laced bra and panties.

Tracy finally got Lindsay pinned against a wall and pushed the cloth hard on her face, leaving her no chance to breathe fresh air.

Lindsay flailed frantically for about a minute but her movements became more sluggish, until there was a soft sigh heard from under the cloth. Tracy removed it and saw Lindsay slowly crumble down against the wall and was then on the floor laying there in gentle slumber.

“You will sleep at the foot of my Mistress’ bed, just like me,” intoned Tracy. “A quick shot and it will be over.”

Tracy then tried to get down to Lindsay’s unconscious body up leaning against the wall for help. Above her was a shelf that contained many of her trophies and a couple of Lindsay’s, although Tracy did not think about it as all she cared about was injecting Lindsay and making her a slave.

A large bronze cup that was engraved ‘Los Angeles City Championships: Breaststroke third-place’ had moved to the edge from the vibrations of the tussle and Tracy’s small movement with her hand was enough to cause it to tumble.

Tracy looked up, but not in time as the cup smacked her right in the forehead. She immediately crumpled to the ground unconscious. Her prone body and Lindsay’s formed a ‘T’ lying there.

(Two hours later)

When Tracy awoke, she saw Lindsay’s face and felt something cool on her head.

She looked around and saw she was on the living room couch. Lindsay dabbed her some more and smiled.

“Judging by the big dent in my cup, you got bopped pretty well,” she said.

The events of the day, and her meeting with Francine, slowly came back as the fog cleared from mind.

“You … too?” Tracy asked softly

Lindsay shrugged. “Sponsor of the Girls Society”.

“Jealous fitness instructor,” said Tracy. “You … OK?”

Lindsay nodded. “The fumes of the chloroform wiped out his influence. He only got a hold of me once and it was only for a couple hours.”

“Guess the trauma to my head stopped her drug’s influence,” said Tracy.

Lindsay then stood up and laughed.

“Tonight, let’s switch at the police station, you talk to Officer Cooper and I’ll get Officer Talbot.”