The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Her name is Lucille Green. Five feet five, long red hair, and deep black eyes. Her eyes are worth mentioning for how unnatural they seem. Indeed though, her body was anything but unattractive, in fact it, would seem to be simply perfect. But anyone looking at Lucille, woman or man, would look past her perfect legs, her flat stomach, high breasts, and pouting lips, and stare into those dark foreboding eyes. Where pupil and Iris become one in color. Her eyes reflect nothing but your own soul back at yourself, and it is truly disturbing.

Lucille has often wondered about her effect on people. She has spent her whole life trying to understand people—their motivations, their intentions, their dark hidden thoughts. She has tried, but has always failed, and yet still she tries to learn no matter the cost.

This night, Lucille is in a burned-out little town called Detroit, in a state called Michigan, in a country called US. She finds the names odd, but she walks through this dark place, with steam rising from grates and neon reflected in oil slick streets, seemingly oblivious to the man who follows her.

Very suddenly and very dramatically, this man grabs her and places a sharpened piece of carbonized iron alloy to her throat.

“You picked a bad night to be out alone, bitch.”

Lucille stands cold and silent as this large dirty man runs his callused fingers across her white cotton blouse, over her soft supple breasts.

“Don’t like to talk bitch? Well you gonna scream before this night is done, you hear me!?”

Still, Lucille showed no response to this man, and, in fact, quickly became distracted by some young people leaving a club across the way. The large man began to move Lucille into an alleyway, and Lucille moved along for the moment. The large man felt he had an easy mark. He felt this woman, who was too scared to speak or move, would no doubt be all but catatonic soon, and his crime would have no witness. He chuckled to himself, as he spun her around, and pushed her against a wall.

“Get Ready Bitch! this is gonna be the best you ever.......” His voice trailed off as he stared at her eyes.

Looking into him, through him, he felt his soul displayed before himself. Lucille made an accounting of this man’s soul—his pain, his loss, his fear, his anger. She made careful note of all his personality flaws and strengths. His memories, and his very being all spilled out of his mind and into Lucille’s. She saw he was now blank—a white sheet of paper with nothing left of the man who had taken such relish in others’ pain. In many cases, she would simply place this man’s mind back and go about her business. But today, very suddenly and very unlike her, she had a new inspiration.

She looked at this man, and wondered what this man would be in a different place and time. Had his father not beaten him, had his mother not been a drunk, had he been loved by people instead of used. And so she recreated, Leroy MacGuire, using many different people from many different times, giving him the memories of a dozen others from around the world. A doctor from Saint Louis, a mother from Juno, mechanic from San Francisco—mixing and matching, and reweaving his old life into the mix. Leroy MacGuire: rapist, murder and thief, became Leroy MacGuire: just an average kind considerate person. She gave him knowledge and skills to help him in his new life, a larger vocabulary, knowledge of basic linear Algebra, and double entry book keeping.

Lucille looked at her new creation—a very different person from the man who had just attacked her. He blinked at her somewhat confused.

“excuse me miss...um, what is going on?”

Lucille continued to smile at him, and he suddenly becomes nervous...

“Um, yes...well.. um...O.K. miss, I have to get home...are you going to be OK?”

Lucille was pleased with her work...She will have to check on this person latter to see how his new life changes from his old life.

Leroy, at this point, scurries away. Lucille looks out past the alley to see other people moving about the city streets and began to wonder how she could change lives...replace memories...emotions.. the possibilities are endless...and the learning she could gain, not just from improving, but perhaps...just perhaps from good to bad.

Lucille smiled broadly. She had always been a passive observer of humanity, simply recording who they were, and trying to figure out how she related to them through that...now, just perhaps.. she could interact. And perhaps, finally, understand her fellow humans in a way that had, to this point, been denied her.

As Lucille strode out of her alley, she caught a glimpse of two young women. One stood on the corner, offering her services to any man with the cash. The other strode past her, indifferent, on her way home after a long night of dancing and socializing, to sleep before her exams. Lucille had recorded the minds of both types of women before.

One filled with confidence and determination, the other lacking enough sense of self to fight back against any who abuse her anymore. Polar opposites—each would be interesting to alter. They moved away from each other so Lucille decided the college woman to be the most interesting at the moment and quickly walked up to her.

Very quickly, Lucille was inches away from the blond grad student and tapped her shoulder. Quickly, the blond spun to her, and was caught in Lucille’s eyes. Lucille began to record this woman’s mind, her hopes her dreams, her likes her dislikes. The occasional passerby stared at the two women locked in an inseparable gaze, but oddly, no one bothers them or disturbs them. In this city, people rarely seem to notice or be shocked by anything.

In an instant, all that made up Arlene Mizortski, was gone, and now part of Lucille. Lucille paused for a moment before creating her new self. Soon a house wife from Saint Paul, a stripper from Newark, a minister from Canterbury and a dozen whores from a dozen locations from across the globe fill Arlene’s mind; and when the link was broken, the confident woman who was Arlene was gone, replaced by this new woman.

Arlene looked at Lucille, and bowed her head respectfully.

“need a date?” Lucille smiles broadly at her new creation.

Arlene sadly walked away from Lucille and takes a corner near the other whore. After a night of clubbing, her clothes fit the profession, and her disheveled appearance seemed to fit her new life.

the other young prostitute looked over at Arlene.

“You’re new, you’re not one Carlos’s are you?”

“No... I’m not... This is my first time.”

“Well, look girl, Carlos owns this area, and if you aint his girl he’ll make sure you never work again.”

A look of intense fear filled Arlene’s eyes...memories of pimps who took revenge on other girls in other lands filled her mind.

“Can I be one of Carlos’s girls?”

“What bitch? You want to be in Carlos’s stable? Whatever... Look, this is my corner.. you want Carlos, you go to Diablo’s across the street. He’ll talk to you about it.”

Arlene looked over at the dingy old building across the way, a burnt out neon sign flickered the name “Di..bl..s”. And Arlene, shortly thereafter, walked across the street and into the bar. The stench of smoke burned her lungs and eyes as she entered, and a dozen men looked at her as she walked around, hoping Carlos would approach her.

A large man grabbed her arm tightly, “Hey Bitch, you got nice lips, they for suckin’?”

Arlene was overwhelmed with fear and a need to please this man...she immediately kneeled in front of the man, and suddenly, her mind began to spin...she knew if Carlos was here, he would kill her for this. Taking money on his turf. A desperate crime for a unkept whore to do. With what remained of her will, Arlene looked up at this giant in front of her.

“I need to talk to Carlos, please..” her mouse of a squeak was all but inaudible, but the man heard and understood.

He nodded, “Hey Carlos, you got a recruit here.” The large man pushed her to the floor, she lay there.. shivering with fear...as she saw a pair of high polished oxfords move to her face. A strong hand pulled her up by the hair. she doesn’t resist, and tries to go along with his hand.

“So bitch, you want to work my corners huh?”

“Yes sir...please”

“Stand up, bitch..”

Carlos let go of her hair as Arlene stands in front of him, eyes cast downward.

“You look pretty high class to be down this low...you a crack head?”

“No...I...just...need.. to be here...”

“So you just a psycho fucked up slut huh?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Strip”

Arlene immediately began to undress herself, not excessively provocative, simply trying to comply to her new master as quickly as possible.

“Very nice, and professional too.. not fucking around with striping, doing just what you were told. I like that.”

Without a word Arlene stood naked before Carlos, who examined her. Her tight breasts, her athletic abdomen, her round pale ass. Carlos ran his finger across her neatly trimmed blond snatch. “Very nice, you gonna fetch me some good money. Here’s the deal—you are grade A at the moment. How long that will last depends on a lot. You charge $30 for a blow or any cheap shit like that. Fifty for anything that takes an hour, and is strait. Like an hour of vaginal or some shit like that. You take a hundred, for around the world in an hour, and an hundred per hour for anything after that. You got that, Slut?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I expect you to bring me a grand a night. If you don’t, well....let’s just say you better. You got a name, slut?”

“Arlene.”

“Ok Arlene...you’re mine, and you bring me every last single cent you get from now on. I’ll make sure you got a place to stay and shit to eat, and drugs to take...but if you ever cross me bitch...you ain’t never gonna work again. You got it Arlene?”

“Yes, sir”

“Then bend over bitch, you need my label.”

Arlene did as she was told, not flinching, her mind filled with memories of a dozen other times—a dozen other brands. She heard the familiar buzz of a tattoo gun and felt the pricks on her pale round bottom. “Property of Carlos” was soon inscribed on her, indelible and permanent.

When it was done, Arlene looked up, “Where can I work sir?”

“Ahh bitch, do I look that cold? No, you gonna do a free show for me and my friends now. You’ll start walking the streets tomorrow.”

With this, Arlene stood up. Immediately, the large man from earlier grabbed her hair harshly, pulling her into the back room, She would have gone gladly willingly, but they insisted that she feel pain in this. They threw her roughly onto a torn mattress in the back. As the fat man begins to disrobed, three more men entered, all equally undesirable to her former self, but now they were exactly who she wished to serve. Men strong enough to punish her if she misbehaved. The fat man then harshly grabbed her and forced her head onto his sweaty member. She hastily sucked, trying to please this man, as another began to pull her ass apart. and roughly drove his Vaseline coated Cock into her ass.. The pain overwhelmed her, as dozens more memories poured past her, of the thousand times this has happened before. and at each tear and rip and pain that came from these men, the feeling of loss and love that eats at her soul are filled with cock and semen and pain and humiliation. Back and forth, each man uses her, in every imaginable way, in every imaginable form. She is battered and broken, but she feels for a moment when it is being done that she is loved, that she is filled—that despite the humiliation, the pain, the horror, this is what in her soul feels she needs and deserves. When each man had been exhausted, as each man has cum and gone, she lay cold and alone on the mattress, and immediately the pain of loss returned. And immediately she wished she could return to the torturous bliss of moments ago. But she cannot, and so she simply lay there, tears welling in her eyes. For a brief moment, her mind flashes back to yesterday, to a time centuries ago when she held a man she thought she loved, when she argued down a professor, when she was someone else... but all that was like a dream now.. this is who she is, who she knows she is, and this is her life.

Then the door opened, and Arlene saw the familiar shoes of her master. She looked up and saw her master with a calm look in his eye.

“Are you all right miss?” he said. Arlene looked at her master who now seemed so different, and sees the woman behind her and for some reason...remembers her from a time long ago...her red hair, and her impossibly dark eyes.

And again Arlene faded away, as Lucille records every image and dream and memory of the last few excruciating hours. Each moment of pain, each moment of pleasure mixing in a vast tapestry of who this woman was. Lucille replays the pain and the joy over and over again, lost in the sensations of who this woman is, was, and should be. Moments passed as Lucille tried to make sense of all of this then Lucille rebuilt Arlene, recreating the woman she was hours ago. Remaking her memories, her hopes, her dreams. The strong, self confident woman, removing all memories of what has just happened.

“What’s gong on? Where are my clothes? What is this?” Fear fills her voice, but is soon assuaged by this handsome Hispanic man in the nice clothes.

“It’s O.K. miss, My name is Carlos, and this was a bit of a misunderstanding. Please, dress your self, and you may leave, We truly apologize for the misunderstanding.”

Arlene knows that this situation is not right, she feels as if she has been violated, but her mind is completely devoid of any such feelings. As if nothing has happened to her. She dresses, still confused, when she locks eyes with the woman again. new memories flow into her...a connection with this woman...a memory of what has happened this night, but seen through Lucille’s eyes. An explanation of what Lucille has done, and why, and an apology. Arlene is not sure what to make of all this. She knows what this woman has shown her is true, but the only pain she feels is sympathy for what Lucille has gone through. Although it was her body defiled, in her heart, she was not. This is all overwhelming, and her understanding of what is going on begins to fade. it is all too much for her and her world. Quickly she leaves, and heads for home. In time, she will create new memories to explain this night—to explain the scars, the tattoo, everything. Right now, her mind already rationalizes the magic and mystery of the night away.. and begins to become mysteries of a night of too much drinking and too wild of a time. By the time she gets home, she tries to nurse her hangover, and dreams only pleasant dreams of the handsome man Carlos who made love to her that night, and somehow talked her into a tattoo.

Back at the bar, Carlos stands before his mistress, with some fear, as she looks at him. She feels great regret over her actions this night. Causing torment, causing pain, but at the same time, she has gained a greater understanding of human emotions. She feels desires she never has, a wish for revenge, a wish for peace of mind. Fear, anger, strength, a kaleidoscope of emotions fill her mind. She looks at this man, and his mind in hers. The people he destroys daily, without remorse. The pain deep in his own soul, and in the souls of those around him. Nothing is as clear as human emotions make them seem. Everyone feels they are right, from the purest saint to the vilest sinner, all feel that the gods will judge them favorably. She stares at the broken man before her, debating how to leave him. then ponders how she should proceed in general. To change people or just observe. To seek revenge or not to judge. Too many thoughts right now. She is not used to this much humanity this fast. She stares at this man for a moment, and gives him a glimpse of the pain within so many souls. Pain he has caused and the pain others like him have caused. Carlos crumples to the floor in tears. Then Lucille removes the pain, but leaves just a brief memory of all that has passed this night. To let him remember how powerless anyone truly is.

Lucille then walks out, as the sun rises in the east, and begins to move away from this place, to take a moment, and figure out all she has learned to date.