The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Dr. Alexis Rhinde’s fingers danced quickly over the keyboard, calling up enlarged snapshots of the collar, which instantly appeared on the large screen behind her. She waited patiently while directors and research personnel indulged in morbid curiosity, keeping her attention on the small terminal to her right. With a keystroke, she activated an imaging program, superimposing highlights over the digitally enhanced photos.

Even as she mentally went over the next step of her lecture, she moaned quietly to herself.

Assistant-director Wallace brushed the underside of his chin with his thumb as he spoke. “It strikes me as an item one might order from a fetish line catalog.”

His scrawny figure leaned forward to get a better look at the screen, his eyes devoid of the mild unease evident in the faces of the others huddled around the conference table.

“Very much so,” Alexis agreed. “It seems as though great pains were taken to insure that the device could pass a quick visual inspection. Make no mistake however, the degree of sophistication is unlike anything we’ve seen before, and preliminary tests indicate that it is far more than an electronic ‘leash’. I doubt Quixotix Systems—or any of our competitors, for that matter—have the expertise to engineer something like this.”

She kept her tone cool and detached, her eyes barely glancing at the notes scribbled on her yellow pad. She only bothered with them to keep a steady rhythm during the lecture, pretending to pause in order to go over material already thoroughly memorized. The light pen she used to emphasize important points swung intricately between her fingers, a trick she’d perfected between her second and third doctorate.

An elaborate nervous tick, really. Less of a cliché than tapping her foot.

She steadied her breath, keeping her smile professional as she remembered her choice of a black lace bra and panties this morning, matching the color of her elevated pumps. It was a foolish little game she played, worthy of a bimbo secretary lusting after co-workers, but it kept her wet all through the day.

One of the experts from R&D piped up. “Have you established the device’s workings?”

Alexis nodded, suppressing a shiver of delight. “We’ve isolated all the key components: an induction module, some kind of transmission device, and a central processing unit—by far the most complex element. Battery power is stored in crystals all along the outer leather rim, doubling as decorative studs. The snap buckle used to fasten the device contains a retractable needle insert.

“We’ve already determined that the needle’s primary function is to stimulate neural activity. It inserts in the back of the neck, and sends electrical impulses to the brain by connecting directly with the spinal cord. The device’s central processor then keys in specific responses directly into the subject’s brain.”

She heard someone scoff on her right and welcomed the distraction, briefly squeezing her tights together when the room’s attention shifted to the raised hand.

She bit her lip to counter the rush of pleasure. “Yes, Doctor Barthelme?”

The corpulent man two seats down squinted at her with incredulity. “Excuse me... but what kind of ‘specific responses’ are you referring to?”

“I’ve run a dozen simulations so far—my preliminary findings can be found in annex one.” Alexis tapped her copy of the classified report which had been distributed to all present. “The device’s main function is to override normal brainwave patterns in order to simulate pleasure conditioning, but I suspect the processor is actually capable of much more.

“We’ve managed to acquire this device through an Alpha contact, following a botched abduction case in Ohio. Judging from classified FBI reports obtained by the same source, the female victim appeared completely subjugated by the collar.”

The word echoed again and again in her mind... subjugated. Her nails bit into the inside of her palms, the shifting of her bra nearly unbearable against the tautness of her nipples.

Barthelme pressed on stubbornly. “If we accept your findings, isn’t the device’s real purpose at odds with it’s recognizable shape? I doubt the people responsible would invest so much to produce an instrument of control that draws immediate attention to itself.”

Alexis sought the edge of the table for support, breathing a silent sigh. She crossed her legs deliberately as she leaned forward. The wet trickle of her arousal seeped underneath her skirt.

“It would be a mistake to assume the collar’s influence is limited to wear time. My findings indicate that personality modification begins the moment the subject first puts on the device. The stimulation of the pleasure centers affects the subject when it is worn, but prolonged conditioning can extend its influence, until the victim is no longer required to wear the collar in order to obey.”

Barthelme slumped back in his seat, silent but unconvinced. He muttered something under his breath, and a colleague seated to his left sallied forth in his defense.

“Why even bother with traceable evidence? Why not abduct and condition the subject in a secure facility? We’ve seen this sort of thing before.”

Alexis shook her head. “As we know from our own experience, full conditioning of subjects requires more extensive means, and can pose surgical challenges depending on the method. It can be likened to the use of a blunt, unwieldy tool when one requires skill and finesse. Whoever engineered this device chose a clever approach, one that undermines the subject’s resistance in a more subtle fashion. Behavior modification can be initiated without the subject’s knowledge, and responses can be fine-tuned as the collar is donned periodically.”

The short pause that followed stretched on interminably for Alexis. She glanced at her watch, fancying the privacy of a bathroom stall, and the delicate touch of fingers upon her sex.

Wallace fanned through his copy of the written report. “Your conclusions are sound, granted, but that still leaves one objection standing—the odd choice of the fetish look. Any thoughts on that, Dr. Rhinde?”

“Apart from the possibility that the collar could be distributed through certain commercial venues, the device itself may serve a symbolic purpose. A kind of marker, a claim of sorts upon the individual who is enslaved.”

Her smile grew a tad disarming.

“Interrogation of former subjects would provide conclusive evidence of course, but this is impossible while they remain in federal custody. Obtaining the device was a difficult, and risking further exposure could result in disastrous consequences.”

Wallace’s balding forehead wrinkled as he reflected upon her answer. “I assume you’ve drawn up a preliminary profile of our... ‘competitor’?”

The torrent of sizzling thoughts threatened to sweep Alexis away. “I suspect we are dealing with a close-knit covert group, with economic rather than political interests. They are technically proficient, aggressive, and well connected. The cases currently investigated by the authorities involve relatively minute security breaches, but we can expect several major corporations and government offices to be targeted in the next few months. Support staff—secretaries and assistants—appear to be preferred candidates for recruitment. This was no doubt a compromise between security access and the scrutiny the subjects would fall under.

“As to the high preference for women subjects, coupled with transcripts of victim interviews conducted by the authorities, I would say they offer textbook signs of an aggressive, cult-like organization, which indoctrinates all of its members at a sexual level. The Sapphic overtones are obvious and unmistakable.”

There was a chuckle from the men around the table. One of the women—a section chief—ran a hand in her shoulder-length red hair and smiled in amusement, but the girl across from her seemed rather put off; the young, impressionable rising star of R&D pursed her lips and stared down at her notes, doing her best not to blush.

“Would you consider our activities to be at risk?”

Alexis’s expression was carefully neutral. “In light of our interest in the covert study and use of this technology, I estimate the risk factor in this respect to be very high. It is doubtful the authorities understand the full implications of this, and we may be the only ones with a clear picture of what is going on.

“That, ladies and gentlemen, likely makes us a target for infiltration.”

She appreciated her audience’s predictable reaction to the outlined threat. A few of the doctors traded grim looks.

Wallace’s lips drew in a tight line.

“I’m giving you carte blanche Dr. Rhinde. Whatever it takes to get to the bottom of this. You have operational control for the time being, until we can outline a response strategy to protect our immediate interests.”

The words drifted to Alexis in a thick fog of arousal. She licked her lips and smiled, the warm tingle of excitement coursing throughout her body.

“I’ll get to it right away, sir.”

“Begging your pardon Dr. Rhinde, but what useful input would I bring to a bioengineering project?”

Maybe the oppressive surroundings of Rhinde’s office made her nervous; in any case, Christine Myers winced even as she let the words slip out, cursing herself for the foolish remark. She tried to offset it with a sheepish smile, blinking like a mouse through tangled bangs of chestnut brown.

Alexis padded her affectionately on the shoulder—oh, don’t be ridiculous—and reached for the tea pot, pouring two generous cups of Earl gray. She handed one to Christine, took the other and settled back on her side of the office couch.

“I’ve talked to your department supervisor, Ms. Rawlins. She tells me you’ve one of her most gifted cryptography experts, and the review board is in the process of re-evaluating your security clearance. What I need for this project is someone whom I can depend on. We can worry about the details later.”

Dr. Rhinde paused long enough to savor her tea, her eyes never leaving Christine’s. The young woman, too astonished to argue against such unexpected praise, blushed in her seat. She hesitated for a moment, cradling her fingers around the warm porcelain cup before taking a sip. The strong, acrid taste didn’t agree with her at all, but she smiled in appreciation just the same.

She glanced around, still unsure why she’d been summoned to the executive office. Reflection during the march from her cubicle over to administration had not yielded answers as to why the project leader of another branch had personally beseeched her for a private interview; a touch of paranoia had spread through Christine’s thoughts by the time she’d been admitted inside the private wing by yawning security guards.

The ride up an express elevator with stuffy executives didn’t help either, the mild unease in her stomach having little to do with inertia. Christine believed in an orderly universe, made up of defined shapes and quantifiable variables. She tolerated the chaos of everyday life well enough, but she abhorred change and turmoil when it came to her work.

And if invitations by high-ranking directors of the company qualified as ‘turmoil,’ then Dr. Rhinde’s excitement was a tumble down to Wonderland.

“I’m very honored to be considered for this position,” Christine managed at last. “I can see this project is very important to you. It’s just that I’d be remiss if I didn’t point out that I’m a specialist, not a generalist. My contributions are limited to specific areas in software engineering. I might not have the kind of instincts required for the kind of research you’re undertaking.”

The junior programmer spoke firmly this time, preferring to be blunt rather than encourage unfounded expectations. Better to pass up on a quick climb up the ladder in order to avoid an equally swift drop two years down the line, when Rhinde’s pet project ran aground.

“You underestimate yourself—and perspective is everything, my dear,” said Rhinde, losing none of her enthusiasm. “Translating human engrams into coherent data will prove to be the most difficult of the tasks facing us. Someone with your background can appreciate the complexities, and you’ll spot the kind of pitfalls others are sure to miss.”

She continued, chatting Christine up like an old college roommate, sharing details of her approach to develop a working neuro-tech interface. Through the flurry of details, Christine couldn’t shake the memory of long childhood afternoons spent at her grandmother’s house. She felt like a little girl in a Sunday dress, sitting in an oversized chair, surrounded by grownups who discussed things she didn’t quite understand.

A sudden, unexpected silence fell as Dr. Rhinde paused for a reaction. Christine blinked nervously, trying to make sense of the whole morning. Stalling seemed like a good idea, until she could get her thoughts in order.

“Err... It would take a while before I can bring a replacement up to speed on the projects I’m currently working on—”

“Nonsense,” Alexis insisted, “I’ll make the arrangements myself. I need you right away, dear. I’ve gone over your personal file, and you’re absolutely perfect.”

Christine didn’t dwell on the odd remark for too long—the sudden, brazen path of Dr. Rhinde’s downward stare preoccupied her far more. She was dismayed when the woman’s eyes fell to her legs, lingering in obvious appreciation.

Christine swallowed hard, her world opening up to an unforeseen level of anxiety.

“P-Perfect for what?” she stammered, not especially keen on getting an answer. She took a long drink from her cup and grimaced, not quite able to finish it in one gulp.

The room spun. She became aware of a dull throbbing inside her head.

Dr. Rhinde was all smiles as she leaned a little closer. “Are you feeling well, Ms Myers?”

Christine mumbled an answer, turning her head sluggishly, searching for a spot on the cluttered table next to the couch where she could put down her cup.

She didn’t remember where the door was. The acrid taste was still strong in her mouth.

Alexis’ smiling face filled Christine’s blurring vision. “I’m sorry... I made the tea a little strong... I confess it’s an acquired taste. Hand me your cup before you spill the rest of it all over yourself. There, there... why don’t you stay and rest for a while? That’s a good girl.”

Christine’s arms grew heavier by the second. She tried pushing back against the couch leather, and felt herself go limp. Dr. Rhinde was at her side in an instant, sliding an arm around her shoulders, resting her down gently on the cushions.

The woman’s mouth drifted closer, hovering over her lips, smiling wantonly.

Christine felt a twinge deep inside her, smothering the fear she knew she should be feeling. She heard a whisper in her ear, but she was too busy sinking into darkness to make it out.

Alexis pulled on each of the straps, making sure Christine was properly restrained as she lay unconscious on the elevated metal slab. She nodded to herself and stepped back with a satisfied air.

Mmmm... Carte blanche indeed.

“Uuuggghh—”

“Ah. Just in time. Please, stay calm.”

Dr. Rhinde put down the small hypodermic on the metal tray next to her, a drop of the stimulant she’d injected in Christine dripping from the needle tip. The sight of the naked young woman lying helplessly on the metal frame made her weak in the knees.

She ran hands over herself, and purred as she contemplated the next step.

Christine struggled weakly against the cool leather bands tightly drawn against her breasts and midriff. “Where... am I?”

Alexis strode to the other side of the examination room, pulling off the plastic gloves with a snap. “You are in a secure location under our laboratory facilities. Very few people even know of its existence. It’s been used in the past to conduct our more important work. All activities are normally monitored via cameras, but I’ve taken the liberty to deactivate all of the security measures. I assure you we won’t be disturbed.”

“Disturbed?” Christine’s voice took on a sharp, panicked edge as she emerged from lethargy.

“Well... let’s just say that although my superiors might not care all that much about my research methods, they would most certainly be shocked by my true motives.”

Christine tried to pull her head aside, fighting against the neck brace that held her in place. The dull throb in her head was ebbing away, replaced by a terrified shiver.

She watched from the corner of her eye as Alexis keyed in a string of numbers on a numeric pad, releasing the security latch on a portable metal container. The doctor then fished out a strange contraption, holding it carefully between her fingers.

It was an ornate leather collar, about eight inches in length, with decorative studs.

“I would have felt more comfortable deactivating the transmitter/receiver unit, but I think it best not to tinker with it just yet. This facility is properly shielded against all incoming signals, so we won’t have to worry about whatever orders your mistress might wish to send you quite yet.”

Christine struggled frantically against her restraints. “W-What are you doing??”

Dr. Rhinde stepped closer, her features flushing with excitement. “There’s a lot more to the truth than what is included in my official reports, of course... you’d be surprised how little I had to reveal to my superiors in order to secure this project assignment. A few lies here and there, along with questions left unanswered. Just enough to leave me all the leeway I need to conduct my research privately. I thought it best to gloss over the intensity of sexual responses the device elicits in its subjects.”

Christine’s heart sank. Incomprehension gave way to raw fear. She struggled desperately.

Alexis didn’t seem to notice. “The important breakthrough occurred when I salvaged something from the collar’s miniature processor... strings of coded data which are part of the programming instilled in every slave. Just enough to tell me who we are dealing with.”

Dr. Rhinde came to rest beside Christine. Her fingers stroked the brunette’s chin as she shushed her pleas in a soothing voice.

“Don’t worry... the initial induction process is much quicker than you think... you’ll barely feel the needle penetrate the base of your neck...

“Besides... you’ll thank me for this in a moment...”

She slipped the collar around Christine’s neck.

“I need you to help me find out more you see? I need you to wear this collar... I need you to share its secrets once they are a part of you.... I must discover everything there is to know about the woman who engineered it...”

Ignoring Christine’s pleas, she fastened the device into place and took a step back. She would soon know if she had recharged it properly.

There was a sharp hissing sound.

Christine’s whole body stiffened at once, as if shot with invisible current. Her eyes flung wide open. Her mouth twisted in a silent scream.

She bucked hard against the restraints. Once. Twice.

For a moment, Alexis mistook it for pain, until she heard Christine’s moans and watched her squirm on the table.

Alexis slipped a hand underneath her pants, and quietly began stroking her pussy.

“Are you awake, Christine?”

Alexis’ ears still rang with the shrill cries of lust which had filled the room minutes before. Her vision carried the afterflash of her own climax, the intense orgasm leaving her breathless. She was trying hard keep her concentration.

“Yeeeeesss...” came Christine’s answer, her voice now soft and gentle. She was lying passively on the table, smiling, her eyes staring beyond the halogen lamp suspended over her. She was breathing deeply, as if to let her thoughts melt in the scent of her own arousal.

Alexis approached the table once again. “I can see you’re a lot calmer now... do you remember what we spoke of earlier?”

“Yes,” Christine said, her smile widening a little.

“Is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

Christine bit her lower lip and shivered in delight. “Mmmm... thank you Dr. Rhinde.”

Alexis felt her pussy gush.

“Why, you’re most welcome, Christine. I’m glad you’re responding so well. Ooooh yes... responding very well indeed.”

Christine mewled her approval as Alexis’ hand began to stroke her sex.

“You don’t mind if I finger your hot little cunt while we have our conversation, do you Christine?”

“Ohhh... not at all, Dr. Rhinde...”

“In fact, you would love for me to keep going, wouldn’t you?”

“Keep... going,” Christine repeated between gasping breaths.

“The very idea excites you beyond anything you’ve ever experienced, doesn’t it? A woman, touching you in this way, playing with your pussy...”

“Yessss...”

“Nothing else matters... nothing but my touch... so natural... so gentle...”

“Yesss...”

“It arouses you to think such things... you can’t help yourself... you’ve reached a turning point... the collar has brought you understanding of the secret pleasures long buried inside you...”

“Ohhhh—”

“You exist only to have sex with women, Christine... you exist only to serve and obey them...”

“...serve... and obey...”

Alexis’ middle finger, slick with juices, circled relentlessly around Christine’s clit. “Now be a good little slut and tell me about the one you serve above all others...

“Tell me about Felicia Prime.“

Christine stiffened as the wave of pleasure exploded from her cunt, flooding to all parts of her body. In her trance, she barely felt the pain of her bruises as she strained against her restraints once again.

Felicia Prime.

Mistress.

Restrained as she was, Christine shuddered through her third orgasm and leaned her head back against the table to catch her breath. The taste of Dr. Rhinde’s juices, dribbling off her chin, was even more exquisite than she had hoped.

Seconds went by before she leaned forward and began her delicate worship once again. She had lost count of the times Alexis had cried out, Spreading wide over her, thighs bucking as the tip of Christine’s tongue assaulted her screaming clit.

Dr. Rhinde’s pleasure mattered above all else.

The thought whirlpooled deep inside Christine’s consciousness. Something tingled around her neck... like tiny ants, slipping under the tightness of the collar. She’d been too busy to accept this truth to notice anything else.

There was something she’d forgotten. Something important. She was on the verge of remembering. She struggled feebly against her restraints, and brief, wincing pain unlocked a secret inside her mind.

Mistress Felicia shapes my thoughts. Mistress Felicia shapes my obedience.

The truth became hot flame as she clenched her thighs, but she remained silent, contenting herself with moans as Alexis caressed the folds of her sex relentlessly. She smiled even as her lust soared. Memories that were not her own flooded into her brain.

It had not taken long for the doctor to climb on the table and lower herself over Christine’s mouth. The slave had responded immediately, thrusting her tongue deep inside Alexis’ pussy. She moaned long and loud, hoping the sound of her complete abandon would make Dr. Rhinde cum.

No need to obey the programming just yet—Alexis Rhinde was too aroused to think properly, and Christine only too happy to indulge.

The sweet taste of her reward drove her to new heights of passion. With a final flick of the tongue, she sucked Alexis’ clit into her mouth. She felt tightness around her head as the woman’s knees jerked.

The spasms seemed to course back and forth through their bodies as the two orgasmed. Christine’s mind exploded into bliss... wave after wave... overwhelming her.

She collapsed at last, her mouth still pressed against Alexis’ slit, unwilling to forgo the pleasure of kissing it with grateful passion.

After a long moment, Alexis reared herself up and slipped off the table. “Oohhh... very good my dear Christine. I can see you’ve enjoyed that as much as I have.”

“Yes, Dr. Rhinde, thank you,” Christine replied sweetly.

“Mmmm... I’m sure you’ll be thanking me again and again... but not quite yet. We have quite a lot of work to do, you and I.”

Christine seemed far too absorbed by the taste of Alexis’ juices on her lips to offer an answer.

“Yes,” Alexis whispered to herself, “you will help me find Felicia Prime, won’t you?”

She hardly masked her surprise when Christine turned her head and looked into her eyes.

“Of course. Mistress Felicia has been waiting for you.”