The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Place Your Hands on the Grips”

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This one was inspired by Yonah Arakoslav’s excellent “Hypnotic Spiral” software. Thanks, Yonah, and consider this your shareware fee. It also owes no small debt to Tabico’s “Subroutine”, the hottest computer enslavement story I’ve read.

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PLACE YOUR HANDS ON THE GRIPS.

These words were the only thing on her computer screen. On a black background, in 48 point sans-serif letters, with a simple color cycling animation that made them pulse from purple to white. She had been following their commands until now.

She worked at the clips on the belt. They had looked like ordinary fasteners when she put them on, but now they had somehow locked closed. The straps were really tight, and she tried to work the metal phallus out of her pussy.

ZAP. The metal dildo delivered a nasty, painful shock to her privates. She yelped in pain and fear. What the hell had she gotten herself into.

PLACE YOUR HANDS ON THE GRIPS said the words on the screen.

Now a little desparate, she struggled frantically to get the belt off or the dildo out. A second later, ZAP again, even worse than before. She clinched in pain and cried out, then quickly reached forward with both hands to grasp the handgrips. The grips looked like staple guns, metal with squeeze handles. She had attached them via foot long support rods to her laptop, one on each side. Holding them spread her arms and raised her exposed breasts slightly upwards.

The screen now showed, in pulsing letters, PUT ON HEADPHONES.

She’d been excited to get the headphones as part of the package, a big, white ear-covering wireless pair that she had planned to use for music when not playing with the software. It was one of the big selling points that convinced her to buy the program. But now, she had no intention of putting them on.

Instead, she reached out and slammed the screen of her laptop closed. That should put it to sleep. But apparently not, because she felt the intense ZAP in her cunt, and contorted with pain. Damn. What the hell was she going to do. It had shocked her after the screen was closed—obviously it hadn’t gone to sleep.

Moments later, ZAP again. Agony. What could she do? A second passed, then ZAP again. The powerful shocks made her desparate and muddleheaded. It was impossible to think. She reopened the laptop ZAP, panting with the pain, bending over double and quickly grasping back the grips.

The screen still read PUT ON HEADPHONES, and the letters still pulsed with their simple purple animation but now it made her shudder with fear. This was a dangerous place she’d gotten into.

She couldn’t even turn the power off on her laptop—it had a full charge. But she could think of nothing else to do, so she let go with one hand and yanked the power cord ZAP. Immediately ZAP again and she howled then quickly grabbed the metal hand grips. Despite the intense pain, she felt a minor triumph. She knew more shocks would quickly drain the power from the computer and she would be free of this mistake.

Looking back at the screen, the purple words glowed ominously “REPLACE THE POWER CORD”. And the shocks began. Every two seconds or so, a powerful jolt inside of her cunt, enough to make her whole body convulse. She fell off her chair and onto the floor, fetal with agony. The shocks continued and her resolve grew weak. She had to escape the inhuman torture. She dragged herself up onto the arm of the chair and replaced the power feed, it’s magnetic fitting sucking it into place. She collapsed back into her chair, and sagged forward to grasp the handgrips. The shocks stopped.

Her spread arms gave no support for her lolling head, and she lay cheek on the glass desk, panting, as a strand of drool spilled out of her open mouth. After a few seconds, ZAP she was shocked again.

She jerked her head up. The purple letters showed “PUT ON HEADPHONES”. Defeated, she let go the handgrips, felt a minor surge of happiness that the expected shock did not arrive, and placed the large white muffs over her ears. She reached back to the grips and hung on, now open and exposed to the machine, resigned to its control.

What can I do? She thought. Single, living alone, I won’t be missed until Monday when I’m due at work, and who knows how long it will be before someone comes looking. She rued the decision to dump her phone service—her computer was her phone, and she’d lost control of it. Her laptop was military grade rugged. There was no way she would be able to break it.

A calm female voice came on over the headphones. “Squeeze your right hand”. The screen still said “PUT ON HEADPHONES” so this was obviously the test for compliance. She squeezed the metal trigger grip. “Squeeze your left hand”. She squeezed. The words vanished from the screen, replaced by a swirling spiral animation. It was very well done, smoothly turning with gently cycling colors. Yesterday this sort of thing would have turned her own, playing to her fetish while presenting no real effect. Now it was scary and ominous.

“Repeat these true statements” intoned the soft voice in her ears. “My name is Jessica Abel.”

Jessica said nothing. ZAP. Fuck! she screamed. The voice again “My name is Jessica Abel.” Obviously the built in mic needed to be triggered. “Fuck you!” she screamed at her own computer, and again she was shocked. “My name is Jessica Abel.” Jess said it this time. Meekly. Voice recognition software in the program allowed her to continue.

“I purchased this Sexbot kit”. Jessica repeated it, inwardly cursing herself. She’d seen an ad on a robot fetish website.

“I installed the software.” Repeated.

“I stripped naked.” Jessica repeated it. It was true. How could she have been so stupid.

“I lubricated the dildo.” Again, true. She hadn’t really needed lube at the time, because the anticipation had made her hot and wet. That was then.

“I sunk the dildo into my own pussy.” She had done that too. Before this went wrong, she had wanted it.

“I clipped on the harness.” She repeated, remembering. That was the beginning of the end, when the innocent metal clips had locked shut with a surprising motorized grind. That’s when she’d gone from masturbatory fetish play to heart pounding fear and pain. She was still wearing it, tight around her waist and up deep into her pussy.

“I wanted to be programmed.” He voice was weak as she repeated the words. It was supposed to be fun. A little fetish play.

“I have a mind control fetish.” Repeated.

“Mind control excites me.” Jess was just saying the words as told. All these things had been true, once, when they were fantasy.

“Look at yourself” said the voice, and the spiral on her screen was underlaid with a photo of her, taken moments ago from her computer’s video camera. With her hands on the grips, her tits were lewdly displayed. Her eyes were open, but tired and a little glazed from the ordeal. Her mouth was half open, caught by the camera while repeating a phrase. She could even see the top of the bulky harness belt. She was under her computers control, a periperheral device, ready to accept its programming.

Despite the horror of her situation, seeing the image of herself stirred her very real fetish. Yesterday this picture, by itself, would have had her pumping her clit until she came. With a deep breath, she relaxed a tiny bit. Did she want this?

As if reading her mind, the soft voice spoke to her.

“Repeat. I did want this.” She agreed by repeating aloud.

“I still want this.” True or not, she repeated. She had no desire for more shocks.

“I will accept being programmed.” This made her tense. She would not. But as she said the words, doubts appeared. Maybe she should just accept it, and go along with its script. If she got no more shocks, it might not be so bad. Eventually it would have to end.

“I will enjoy being programmed”. Ok, she decided, why not. As she said the words, she relaxed. She bought this package to get her off, and if she got into it a little, maybe it still could.

“I will assist my own programming”. Sure, why not. Jessica gave in and decided to just go along.

“Jessica, your harness dildo is a powerful vibrator. You can control it with your right hand, by squeezing. Squeeze your right hand.”

Jessica squeezed, and the dildo buzzed to life. She stopped squeezing, and it turned off. “Keep it on” said the voice.

She squeezed a little bit, and the dildo buzzed softly. Now that she was playing along, her fetish really kicked in. It was what she’d fantasized hundreds of times—she was hooked to a machine that was going to brainwash her. To mindfuck her. To make her cum until her she can do nothing but obey it commands. She started grinding as her pussy heated up, dripping lube down the crack of her ass and onto her chair. Her right hand clamped onto the handgrip, driving the dildo to a powerfull buzzing.

Variables in the software changed. If then statements took their else cases. Loops were exited. This subject had accepted the script, and was ready to bring into trance. It was time to take her down. The dildo in her pussy died down to a slow grind, despite her instense squeeze on the hand lever.

In her ears, the voice read her instructions. “Watch the spiral very carefully. When you see a small dot on the right side of the screen, squeeze your left hand. When you see a small dot on the left side of the screen, squeeze your right hand. Begin.”

Disappointed that the buzzing had slown before her orgasm, Jess played the game. The dots were tiny, a single pixel just off center from the revolving swirl of colors that filled her screen. It really did take all her focus to see them. When she got one right, the dildo would kick up for a strong moment, and when she got one wrong, it would die briefly.

As Jessica played to reach orgasm, the computer brought her into a trance. Using the microphone, it sensed her rate of breathing, and kept a rhythm to the game that fell just below her breath pattern. A pulsing throb of alpha patterns played in her headphones, deep and subliminal. As she grew more intensely drawn in, the screen pulsed with the same beat. The dots she was watching crept closer to the center of the spiral, drawing her vision into the deep tunnel of its movement. After an hour, she had lost control.

The screen, sound, and dildo all pulsed slowly inside her. Her hands had long ago relaxed on the grips, the squeezes no longer needed as the software took control of the the throbbing shaft up her pussy. Her nipples were stark bullets pointing at the screen and her neck and face were flushed red from the sex coursing through her body. Along the way, orgasm had ceased to be her goal. She was playing for the deep throbbing pleasure of the moment that could go on and on.

The program kept here there another hour, deepening her state. Training her to the slow rhythm of breathing, listening, watching and fucking. It needed her deep enough to obey commands that would not be followed by one with thoughts of her own.

“Jessica” said the soft voice, bringing her out slightly. “Stand up”. Conditioned to obey, Jess stood, stiffly, the wireless vibrator harness and headphones still pulsing in time. “Your mouth is dry. Get a glass of water and return here.” The entranced girl left the room, and walked to her kitchen. If the neighbors had been looking, they would have seen her naked, flushed body pace across the cool tiles, taking steps with a very precise and slow gait. They would have seen her big clunky headphones, with the thick white antenna rising from one ear. The would have seen her big clunky belt, cinched around her waist with a sumo-like strap between her legs. They could not have seen the throbbing cock that controlled her from the inside.

Jessica filled a glass with water from the tap, turned slowly, and paced out of the room. When the sensors in the handgrips confirmed Jessica’s return to the computer, the software took its last branch. From here on, there were no conditionals, only straight line code. There would be no return.

Following gentle verbal instructions, the girl released the handgrips and dropped her hands to her lap. Her fingers went unerringly to the belt where an electronic signal had triggered a secret compartment to open. Her hands returned, pinching a small orange tablet. She popped it in her own mouth, where she unquestioningly downed it with the water.

Jessica was still aware, in some sense, of herself. She had decided to play along, and her trancelike near-orgasmic state was a reward that she was enjoying immensely. Although relaxed and obedient, her actions had a trace of free will. She chosen to fetch the water, chosen to return, and chosen to down the pill, because obeying the program had been consistently pleasurable and disobeying had brought pain.

As the orange tablet dissovled into her system, any semblance of choice dissolved with it. Her consciousness slowly lifted away from her body. She became a passenger in the vessel of pleasure that used to be hers to control.

“You will obey”, said the voice in her head, “but you will no longer hear”. And she could not. The headphones continued to instruct her, but the words no longer registered. The part of her brain that translated language to action was set to automatic. The part of her that still retained awareness was decoupled from the instructions feeding steadily into her ears.

She saw her arms drop to the belt again, obeying an unheard command. Her hands returned with a stack of thin foil stickers, deposited on the desk before her. Her arms dipped down again and came back with a long bundle of thin wires, terminating in a tiny wireless transmitter which she strapped around her wrist.

Deliberately, she peeled the backing off of a sticker, and attached it to her temple, choosing one of the thin wires to pin underneath. A second shiny sticker, second wire, and signals from her other temple were now on line for the computer to use. She parted her hair and stuck one more to her forehead, and continued wiring. On her neck, sternum, down her backbone, both wrists, on her inner thighs she placed the sensors, until the intimate signals of her body were now merley data fed to the machine.

It knew her heart was steady and relaxed. It knew her breath went in and out in time with its insistent pulse, still driven by devices on her ears and in her pussy. It knew her brain was slowing, the waves of thought growing smooth as the drug level rose in potency.

The voice, unheard by Jessica’s conscious mind, continued to instruct her. Her eyes closed. Her legs disappeared. She could not feel them, move them. They were gone. This was followed by her arms, her shoulders. Slowly her body disappeared, until only her pussy was left. Floating in a blank void, her mind was only sex, only fuck, only cunt.

Her arms still moved, following unheard commands, helping the program. The program required her to orgasm now. Her own hands took charge of the task, acting independently from her mind which was reduced to only the feral sensations of her sopping cunt. Her hands knew how to pull the nipples, knew how to tease the clit, and they did it unquestioningly, insistently. Her fingers pressed hard, circling and squeezing. In her mind, there was only pussy, and it’s hot wet throbbing grew stronger and stronger.

Her body spasmed as orgasm crashed over her. She fell to the floor, but no signals of impact reached her brain. Knees apart she thrust her crotch in the air, trying to fuck against something and finding her hands and the metal cock deep inside. Her pussy clamped down on the machine’s tool, and the speed and frequency of her involuntary contractions were relayed down thin silver wires to be analyzed by code.

The program recorded the event, added one to orgasm_count, and saved the readouts. It had a baseline now. Brain activity had decreased—she was thinking less. Pleasure levels had also dropped after the orgrasm and needed adjustment upward. With the help of Jessica’s compliant hands, the computer continued.

Her next orgasms were no less wrenching. Wildly she bucked and came, flushed and sweating as she squirmed on the floor. But gradually they grew steady, coming closer and closer together, lasting longer, but happening slower. Her cunt was pumping the metallic cock for minutes at a time, with a slow thump—pause—thump, and from one orgasm to the next she had only moments of rest.

As the sun rose, all was still. She lay on her back, eyes open but seeing nothing. Her hands lay relaxed at her sides, and her knees were raised slightly allowing her legs to splay open. Internally, waves of orgasm resonated up her spine, a steady drumbeat of pleasure bouncing from cunt to mind. The part of her that used to matter was gone, just two synchronized sine waves ebbing and flowing with the pleasure. With no resistance, the program began to write its code into the mind of a new sexbot.