The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

A bulky man with a fat slab of chin and a bald head stood by the entrance. He was all in black; shirt, jacket, tie, shades, earpiece. Melissa hadn’t even noticed the place before, an inconspicuous building sandwiched between a law firm and a hair salon. She kept her face impassive, barely glancing at him, as if being allowed in was a foregone conclusion. The doorman clearly knew the girl anyway. He waved them past.

Inside, there was a grand staircase in polished white stone. They followed it upwards. The staircase was steep and it was edged with a carved stone balustrade. The girl let her fingers trail along it.

“Always ready for a drink when you get to the top of these stairs,” she said.

The bar was on the top floor. It was too cool for any outward sign on the pavement, or even on the inside of the building. There was just a set of double doors leading off from an empty and echoing landing and the sound of quiet voices and low music from within.

The girl pushed the doors open like she was coming home. Inside, Melissa saw red ceiling lights, red paint on the walls, red porcelain vases. There were booths panelled in brown-black wood. There were leather cushions, lacquered tables. The girl ordered cocktails for them and they sat in a booth next to a window. A paper screen covered the glass but Melissa could hear the traffic from the street. She refused to look at any of the other customers, but she could feel the press of their eyes.

The girl took a sip of her drink and then shrugged off her jacket. Underneath it, she was a wearing a polished rubber t-shirt. She leant forward into the muted sunlight, resting her elbows on the table. Melissa tried not to look at the girl’s breasts, at the gleam of the rubber that was stretched over them.

“I’ve ... umm ... never been to this place before,” she said. She touched the blonde ringlets of her hair, as if she reaching for confirmation of who she was, why she was here.

The girl shrugged. “The cocktails are good, it’s not too loud. The talent is usually good. I like the Japanese vibe too,” the girl said. “Ever been there?”

Melissa shook her head.

“Me neither,” said the girl. Maybe one day.”

“I’m...” her mouth felt dry. “My name is Melissa. Melissa Hawking.”

The girl smiled at her unease. “At the moment.”

Melissa decided not to rise to that.

“Holly,” the girl said. “So, introductions done. Let’s talk. You were brave to do this, I’ll give you that.”

“There’s no one else I can ask for help.”

“Why would you think I’d want to help you?”

“I ... I have to do what he says. You don’t. I don’t know why, but I’m sure that he hasn’t got you in the same way he’s got me.”

The girl nodded. “Yes, you’re right. He has you, nice and tight now. He doesn’t have me any more.”

“Will you tell me how?”

“It’s a simple thing,” Holly spread out her fingers and examined her nails. “I was his slave. I watched him, very carefully. I learned the trick of how it was done. I set myself free. Perhaps you’ll learn it too, after he takes you.”

Her voice was matter-of-fact, as if the situation was hardly worth mentioning.

“But you don’t have to let him,” Melissa said.

“I don’t have to anything. Perhaps I’d like to see you obey him, to see what you’ll become.”

At the word “obey”, Melissa’s breath caught and she felt her hands grip the leather of the seat. She forced herself to relax, to look up, lean forward a little and to smile.

“I think that you want me for yourself.”

Holly raised an eyebrow. She took another long sip of her drink, traced an idle finger around the rim of the glass.

“Is that what I’m being offered?” she said. “A horny, wet little girl to play with again? Shall I make you get up on the table, right here? This is the sort of thing he loves.”

“This isn’t for him,” said Melissa.

“You aren’t sure though, are you? I can hear it in your voice. You aren’t sure which thoughts are yours.”

“I know that I don’t...”

“Like girls?”

“No, I... I mean, I will, I’ll...”

“Yes,” Holly said. “I think that’s what you’re offering me. Even if I couldn’t wrap your mind around my fingers, you’d let me have my way with you. You don’t want to, but you will. That’s what’s making you so wet.”

“Not just me.”

Holly opened her mouth but then closed it into a smile.

“Would you like to find out? Now? Would you like to get down on your knees? My juices on your lips?”

“Is that what you want me to do?”

“It’s another thing he’d like to see. I could tell you. The things he’ll make you-”

“So help me,” Melissa interrupted, not daring to let Holly finish that sentence, “and we can...”

“Live happily ever after?” Holly shook her head. “I don’t think you understand. He owns you already. You aren’t yours to give.”

“And you? Are you the girl who already has everything?”

Holly sat back in her seat, contemplating the question, contemplating Melissa.

“You should be careful, making offers like that,” she said, eventually. “There’s a thin line between brave and stupid.”

“Tell me,” said Melissa “Tell me what you want. Tell me what I have to do. I’ll do... I ... I just don’t want to be his slave.”

“I’m sorry Melissa,” Holly got up from the table and pulled a crumpled twenty from her jeans pocket. She dropped it next to her empty glass. “I don’t believe you.”

She turned and walked towards the exit, her jacket over one arm. She didn’t look back.

Melissa had a vague idea that she ought to be feeling despair, but instead she felt a boiling molten anger. It lifted her to her feet, and then she was chasing Holly out of the bar, controlled by nothing and no one except her own rage. Her hands smashed the bar doors open and then flung them shut behind her.

Holly was walking across the wide, open landing towards the stairs. Each footstep echoed.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Melissa’s voice rang out in the empty space.

Holly turned around slowly, looking at Melissa with that same amused expression that she’d had in the shop. It was like pouring petrol on the flames.

Melissa ran at the other girl and saw the expression turn from amusement to alarm. She raised her hands and slammed them against the girl’s shoulders, pushing her back, back, back. Holly dropped her jacket and her hands came up now, trying to grab Melissa. Their bodies pressed, hard and tight.

Holly was trying to push back, but her feet were slipping on the polished floor, and her steps became a fall. Melissa saw fear in the other girl’s eyes, mixed with a strange look of ... hunger. Then the momentum carried them, flailing and crashing into the immovable stone balustrade.

Now they were both very still. Holly was bent backwards over the smoothly carved handrail, so that her body hung over the deep void of the stairwell. One arm was trapped beneath her. The fingers of her free hand clawed at the handrail. She was trying to hook one of her feet around a stone baluster, trying to lever herself up with the other, but Melissa’s weight pinned her.

“Now,” Melissa said. Her body pressed down on Holly’s, her balance safer but still precarious. “Let’s start again.”

Their faces were inches apart. Melissa could feel Holly’s breath, could see a lock of her own hair brushing the other girl’s cheek.

“You ... have my ... attention.” With Melissa’s weight on top of her, Holly’s voice was compressed to a whisper.

Melissa could feel the heat of the other girl’s thighs around her own legs. She became uncomfortably aware of the way their breasts were squashed together and especially of the points of Holly’s nipples, pressing through her rubber t-shirt. There was nowhere for her to look but the darkness of Holly’s eyes.

“There’s a way, isn’t there?” she said. “A way for me to protect myself against his voice. You can help me, and you will.”

“Don’t let ... me ... fall...” Holly’s head was tipped back, and though she was till having to fight for breath, her mouth was smiling as she spoke. Her hair, long, straight and dark, hung down into the empty air.

“Don’t tempt me,” said Melissa.

“Too ... late for that,” Holly whispered. She lifted her head and Melissa felt their lips brush and then Holly’s tongue probing up to touch her own.

Her legs trembled and she wanted to pull away, wanted the taste of Holly’s mouth again.

“I need ... you’re going to help me.”

“Yes,” Holly said, “Let me.” Again, she raised her head and her mouth was covering Melissa’s, hot and wet and with the sharp taste of salt and citrus.

Melissa didn’t know which of them was in control now, but somehow she wasn’t holding the other girl down any more. Holly was lifting herself up, still keeping the tight contact between their bodies, pushing against Melissa, pushing her backwards.

“Don’t you want my help now?” Holly asked.

“Yes, but ... what are you...”

“Private is better. Let’s go back inside.”

Holly gathered up her jacket and then her arm was around Melissa’s shoulders, turning her around. Melissa knew that she needed to stay in control, but it was hard to think about anything other than the nearness of the other girl’s body, the immediacy of what was going to happen.

As they walked back through the double doors, she felt Holly’s fingers slip from her shoulder and graze against the small of her back, where her top showed smooth bare skin. Then, her hand was stroking against Melissa’s ass and dipping under the hem of her skirt. Holly steered her past the bar itself, smiling in satisfaction as the voices hushed, and at Melissa’s gasp as she felt her skirt lifted.

There were two doors ahead. The one marked with a large “F” led into a narrow washroom. There were three closed cubicles against one wall and three sinks set into a black granite countertop against the other. Fluorescent lights reflected off the tiled floor.

Holly leant back against the countertop, reached a hand inside her jacket and pulled out an ipod. It was sealed in a clear zip-lock bag.

“I always carry a spare,” she said. “Just in case.”

She put it down next to her, keeping it away from the edge of the sink. She folded her arms.

“This,” she said, nodding at it, “is what I’ll do to help you.”

“I’ll still have to answer the phone,” Melissa said. “I can’t turn it off. I have to have it where I can see it and hear it, all the time. Blocking my ears won’t stop him.”

“No, it won’t. But that isn’t how it works. Do you want it?”

“Yes.”

Holly bent down to unzip her boots, then slipped down her jeans, and then her underwear.

She left the clothes lying on the tiles, reached back to put her hands on the edge of the countertop and lifted herself so that she was perched on the edge of it. She opened her legs.

“Still don’t believe you,” she said.

Melissa looked anxiously at the door and then at the ipod, in its sealed bag. Finally, she looked back at Holly. Her breasts and nipples were outlined clearly beneath the rubber, a little smaller than Melissa’s own but curvy enough to make Melissa wonder how they would feel against her soft palms. The rubber t-shirt finished just above Holly’s navel. Below that was a tight, slender belly and a thin strip of pubic hair and then the folds of her pussy.

“What,” Melissa looked her in the eye, unblinking, “do I have to do?”

“Convince me,” said Holly. The fingers of one hand toyed between her legs. With her other hand she pointed at Melissa’s skirt. “Show me.”

Make her believe it. Melissa made a slow turn, pushed her ass out towards Holly and then gripped the material of her skirt and guided it upwards, letting her see what was beneath.

“Nice. Take it off.”

She kept the skirt raised. With her free hand she pulled down the blue satin thong, feeling it slip from between her cheeks, leaving her bare. She stepped out, careful to keep her balance. The thong lay on the black tiles. She pushed her ass out further, wondering if Holly would touch it. Her teeth bit, so gently, on her lip.

“Yes, good. Now turn around.”

Holly’s fingers were stroking up and down her slit. The hunger blazed in her eyes.

“Show me. Lift up your top.”

She did. It felt tight now, under her arms and across the top of her chest, but her breasts were nicely exposed. She smiled and without waiting to be told, she let her hands cup her breasts, lifting them for Holly to enjoy. She pinched her nipples between finger and thumb.

“Harder,” said Holly.

Melissa cried out as she obeyed. There was no pretending now, if there ever had been.

“You’re finally starting to understand, aren’t you? Come here.”

Melissa took a couple of shuffling steps and then bent forward. She felt the soft skin on the inside of Holly’s thighs, brushing against her cheeks. She felt Holly’s hands clasp around the base of her skull. She had chance to steady herself with one hand before she was pulled in tight and Holly began to rock herself against Melissa’s tongue.

“Yes, just there,” she said, “good girl. Shall I get it ready for you? Keep... Mmmm.”

Melissa heard her grab the ipod and unseal the bag. Then she was doing something else with it, but one hand kept Melissa’s head firmly in place and she couldn’t look.

“Keep going,” Holly said, and shifted her weight, leaning back to angle her hips upwards.

“Now your fingers,” she whispered, “use your... while...ahhhhh.”

Melissa shifted her hand so that she could slide two of her fingers into Holly’s pussy even while she flicked at her clit with her tongue. She let her own feet edge apart so that her hand could delve between her legs. There. Her fingers were hard, quick, and remorseless.

“Yes, there. Oh god, that’s ... you know just how you’d like it don’t you? Fucking keep going.”

She hardly heard the other girl now, had almost forgotten that there was another reason to do this, that’s she’d ever wanted anything else.

“Remember this. How it feels. When you bring yourself off tonight, listening to my voice, remember how good it was. Oh god, I’m going to come... I’m going to come, keep... Don’t. Stop. Don’t....”

Then Holly screamed out and she was grinding against Melissa, and the taste of her was on her lips and in her mouth and she was so close. So close, if she could just... Holly gripped her hair and pulled her head up, showing her the ipod.

“I don’t want you to come yet,” she said. “This,” she gestured with the ipod “is what you’re asking me for. Is it still what you want?”

“Yes.” Melissa forced her fingers to be still.

“You don’t know the price yet.”

“I made you come didn’t I?” Her breaths were fast and shallow.

Holly laughed.

“Mmmm, certainly. But that wasn’t payment, just ... a declaration of good faith.”

“Yours, or mine?”

“I’ll keep my side.”

“Do you trust me then, without telling me what I have to do?”

Before Holly could answer, the washroom door opened and someone entered. Melissa heard the shocked “Oh!” and she tried to pull away and cover herself. Holly’s hand stayed fixed on the back of her head, stopping her.

She glimpsed the woman’s fur lined coat, the look of distaste that she was giving them.

“If you still want it, stay right where you are,” said Holly.

She complied. Being watched like this, poised above Holly’s open legs, made her heart race again. This woman was looking at her, judging her, labelling her, and that was a thought that made her ache.

What kind of girl would be bent over with her skirt lifted above her bare ass and her top pulled up over her breasts, her mouth wet with another girl’s juices? The ideas flickered in her mind like sparks. Her hand was so wonderfully close to the slick wetness of her pussy. She wanted to touch herself, right now, while the woman watched.

She kept her hand still and her body motionless and yet somehow she felt that she was edging closer and closer to orgasm, that the heat and the humiliation of being caught like this was working on her more efficiently than her own fingers could ever do. She moaned, part in fear and part in need. It was a low, primal sound, something that she couldn’t stifle or control. Holly turned to look at the other woman and smiled, daring her.

The woman tried to pretend nonchalance, but she couldn’t keep the shock from capturing her face or her eyes from darting back at Melissa and Holly, even as she slammed the cubicle door shut.

“Wondering what it would be like, I reckon,” said Holly, looking at the closed door. “No, Melissa Hawking, I’m not worried. I know that you’ll listen to this. I know what it will do. Stand up now.”

Melissa took a long breath and straightened up, waiting.

Holly dropped the ipod back into the plastic bag and sealed it up again. Then, unhurried, she slipped back into her clothes, pulled her boots on, zipped them up. She gathered up Melissa’s handbag from where it had fallen, put the ipod into it and then rooted around. She pulled out a pack of baby wipes.

“Stay still,” she said, and dabbed, almost maternally, at Melissa’s lips and chin. When she was satisfied with that, she pulled Melissa’s top back down and then straightened her skirt. Finally, she scooped up the blue satin thong and, smiling, put that into the handbag as well. She handed it back.

“Happy now?”

“Oh yes,” she offered her arm. “Shall we?”

“The playlist you want is called ‘Trojan’. You can listen to the others, but I’d advise you not to. You might find yourself acting strangely.” She paused as they descended the stairs; Melissa raised an eyebrow. “More strangely than usual.”

“Will once be enough?”

“You ... ah, won’t be able to stop after one. Probably better wait till you’re alone and set it to repeat.”

“And then?”

Holly gave a dangerous, feline smile.

“I want it back you know,” she said, when they parted on the street. “They’re cheaper than they used to be, but they don’t grow on trees.”

“Did you order something?” her sister asked, muting the TV and tilting her head to look up at Melissa from where she lay on the sofa.

“Why?”

“There’s a parcel for you on the table. It was on the mat when I got home. I hate it when they do that. They should put a card through.” A brief scowl passed across Mary’s face.

“Yeah,” Melissa said, uncertainly, “they should.”

Mary’s hair fanned out over the arm of the sofa, caramel coloured against the dark brown leather. She never did anything by halves, whether it was working, exercising or resting. Although she was the younger daughter, she was the one with determination, the fierce one. Her mouth, Melissa thought, was almost cruel.

Her sister was just relaxing now, Melissa knew, but the way she was lying, one leg drawn up, one hand resting on her thigh, set off all kinds of uncomfortable reflections of the magazines upstairs. All those bright images that her eyes had crawled over, pictures of girls who were just waiting to be taken. Melissa pressed her own thighs together uncomfortably. She wanted to be upstairs, in her room, so that she could finally do what she’d been longing for all day but she knew that if she did that, she’d probably be lost for good.

“Is it something nice?” Mary asked.

“Just ... some clothes I wanted.” As she said it, she became uncomfortably aware of what she was wearing. Mary had obviously noticed, but didn’t say anything.

“For your trip?”

“Yeah, my ... what?”

“Mum said you’d got some kind of training gig and you were going to be away for a while. Wanted me to remind you that the car’s picking you up at nine tomorrow morning. I didn’t realise you’d got a summer job sorted out. Are you all right Mel? You’re looking a bit pale.”

Melissa swallowed.

“Just tired I think. I’m going to have an early night.”

“Don’t blame you. There’s nothing on anyway. So what’s the job about?”

“It’s ... sort of media based,” Melissa said, awkwardly. “I’m not sure it’s going to last, really. It’s all looking a bit doubtful. Look, I’m pretty exhausted to be honest, I think I’m going to crash.”

“Well,” Mary smiled, “guess I’ll see you when you come back. Hope it all goes well. You do look tired. Make sure you get chance for some fun when you’re not working!” She flicked the sound back on and stretched out again, content.

The parcel was bulky. She could guess what might be in it, even though the wrapping was plain and the label had nothing on it but her name and address. Even so, she abandoned it, unopened, on the floor of her room as she discarded her clothes.

The satin thong was resting at the top of her bag where Holly had left it. She dropped it on top of her other clothes, and then took the phone and the ipod. She swept a space on her nightstand with the back of her hand, and placed both devices side by side.

Her own ipod was at the back of a drawer. She clicked the headphones out of it and plugged them in to the one that Holly had given her. From downstairs she could still hear the sound of the TV, but she was careful to slide the catch across on her bedroom door. Inserting the buds into her ears, she turned out the light and sat down on the edge of the bed.

In the dark, she could nearly hear his voice again.

Her fingers trembled a little as she found the playlist. There looked to be about forty or fifty different ones, all with equally obscure names. She tapped “repeat” and then “play”.

Instead of an album cover, the screen showed a photograph of a woman in bondage, arms outstretched in supplication. The music was soft, but with a thrumming, repetitive beat. Behind it, at the edge of her hearing, there was Holly’s voice.

She lay back, not covering herself. Her hands relaxed to her sides. It felt ... correct, to be naked. Her fingers released the ipod. The headphone wire ran down between her breasts and across her belly.

She tried to concentrate on what Holly’s voice was saying, desperate to understand how she could to escape from him. It was difficult. She would make out individual words, know that she’d heard a fragment of a sentence and then, in that instant, know that she’d forgotten it.

Sometimes she would fade from all awareness of the music and Holly’s voice until she could manage to drag herself back to some kind of focus. She tried again and again to discern what she was being told and to remember it, but it wasn’t working. Her mind would wander to the feeling of the bedclothes against her bare skin, or the slight movement of the wire between her breasts as she breathed in and out, and she would start to drift again.

How long had she been lying here? She wasn’t sure, but she thought that she’d heard this track before. The playlist must have repeated by now. What was it doing to her?

She thought about taking a breather, pausing the thing, just for a few minutes. Instead, her thighs parted, ready for her hand to slide between. Her fingers began to work, very gently. She was already slick and ready, but her hand wouldn’t do more than torment her. Dipping into her with a brief, shallow touch and then stroking over her bare sex and teasing against her clit.

Fuck. Melissa tried to say it, even managing to open her mouth, but couldn’t make the word form.

She wondered if she’d made a very bad mistake, but even as the feeling of unease broke the surface, her mind was pushing it under again. Alone and naked in the darkness of her room, she had only her burning need to make herself come and her inability to do anything about it.

Melissa had lost count of the repeats. She could see from the display that the tracks were still playing, the time slider counting up on the left and down on the right, but she couldn’t hear anything through the headphones any more. She hadn’t changed the volume, so the beat and the words must still be slipping into her ears, into her mind, but the power to be conscious of it had been taken away from her. That thought was exciting.

She continued to try to rub against the pillow. She remembered putting it in the centre of the bed so that she could straddle it, when she couldn’t make herself come with her fingers. Had that been her own idea? Probably not.

The headphone wire hung down from her ears like a tether. Though her back arched and her hips pushed back and forth as hard as she could, when her shaven slit touched the pillow, she could only brush herself across it with the softest of contacts.

Making yourself her plaything.

The thought seemed to bubble out of nowhere. It was like she’d turned a page in a book and glimpsed a note that someone had left for her. Then the page turned and the words were hidden again.

The recording must have been telling her what to think. That part must be working. What else was she being told? Again, she wondered if this had been a mistake; if she’d delivered herself over to a worse fate even than he had planned for her.

Panic ought to have taken hold of her, but she could only think of how helpless she was in the grip of this thing. Hopelessly aroused because she was helpless. Unable to make it happen or to prevent it.

The thoughts spiralled down into the dark.

A toy to be played with. Thoughts that aren’t my own. I won’t even know what she’s doing to me. I can’t do anything to stop it now.

That’s what you want most of all.

She’s going to make you come now.

The words were in her own voice.

Her body continued to drag slowly across the pillow, even as the orgasm took her and wracked her. She couldn’t make the movement stop, controlled by a recorded voice that she could no longer hear. Even as her body shook, she pulled her wet, open sex forward and back, feeling every crease as the cover rippled between her legs.

Again and again she did it, until her arms collapsed and she was slumped face down, not moving or thinking.

Even when conscious thought returned, she lay there for a long time, exhausted. She felt like a toy that had been wound up, set going and then abandoned.

Her brain was lying to her, telling her that the ipod was silent. It told her that she really, really needed to come, despite the bliss that was still soaking through her body. It pretended that she was the one in charge.

She propped herself up on her elbows, her face illuminated by the ipod screen. The numbers counted to themselves. Her mouth hung slightly open. Could she still command herself enough to close it? I’m too tired. Easier not to.

Something was commanding her though, because her hips had started to move again, tidal, as they lifted and drifted and fell back again. Maddening her with that only-just-touching contact against the pillow. She was extremely tender by now and she moaned with each stroke against the soft cotton, but she couldn’t stop.

My mind is controlling my body, she thought, but I don’t control my mind anymore. That thought edged her, incrementally, inevitably, towards another climax. The muscles in her arms and thighs burned but she couldn’t stop herself. An invisible machine trapped her limbs, and drove them on.

So defenceless after I come, she thought. So ready, so open. That’s why she’s making me do this.

That was her last thought for some time.

Once more she began to move, sobbing in desperation but without any articulated thought behind the sound. She had been disconnected from all memory of what she was doing or why. In her mind, a mechanism had been created, and it continued to drive her like a clockwork doll.

Her mind was tireless, but eventually her body was too empty to obey any more and it collapsed into sleep.

The playlist repeated. Words that she had long since lost the ability to identify continued to seep into her mind.

The phone lay silent and forgotten in the dark.