The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I was tired when I went in to work that day, but it was a good kind of tired. On my way in I dropped the film off at the photo processor, writing down on a slip of paper that under no circumstances would they be able to even attempt to censor the photos in any way. I paid the extra money to get the photos put on CDs.

I picked up the photos on the way home after visiting Becky at work. I scrolled through the photos finding nothing to take fault with. I found the ten best pictures and made thumbnail previews, then uploaded them to some adult newsletters. I figured that would get us noticed, and maybe we’d get some offers and probably money too.

Suddenly I thought about undercover agents who might pose as porn directors and such. That got me on a paranoid tangent, so I scribbled up the first truly superhuman power I’d ever posessed: the ability to know when I or anyone under my protection were in danger, and what was causing it, in time to do something about it. I didn’t have to wonder whether it was working or not, because right then I had a feeling of being watched. A few scribbled sentences, and my watcher was in the room, tied to a chair and thoroughly gagged. She was rather attractive, a green-eyed redhead with a passionate fire in her eyes that turned me on. Her boobs could stand to be a little bigger, but that was easily taken care of. Her new chest strained the buttons of her tight blouse. I caressed her enlarged and newly-sensitive breasts. Despite her best efforts at repression, she moaned against the gag.

“How long have you been watching?” I asked, removing the gag. “And I can tell when you’re lying.”

“Since you purchased that pen over there.” she said, glancing over at the Pen.

“I don’t have to ask the reason, do I?”

“Not if you’ve got a brain in your head.” she replied coldly.

“Right, so a hormonal teenager with a magic pen is a threat to national security.” I replied, sarcastically. “Only when threatened.” I finished, patting her cheek. She snapped at my hand with her teeth. “Fiesty! I like that.”

“As long as I’m able, I’ll fight you.” she snarled.

“I think we can rechannel that.” I replied, using the Pen to make her body much more sensitive. Then I made her clothes disappear, only to reappear, clean and neatly folded, on my desk. I picked up the gag and put it back in her mouth. I began to massage her breasts, studiously avoiding the nipples. Pleasure and desire warred with her sense of independence and years of feminist training. She squirmed, trying to get some stimulation to her engorged nipples. I kept my hands on the lush mounds, away from the nipples. Anger and lust mingled together in her expression, and always, the fire remained. Her hips squirmed, trying to get stimulation on her clit, too. “You get pleasure when I want you to get pleasure, bitch.” I told her crossly. Okay, maybe I wanted to get back at her for watching me, and maybe I was overdoing it. She began to quiver, struggling with her body for control of the situation. “One thing you have to learn is you’re NOT in control of the situation. I am.” I told her. Removing a hand from one of her breasts, I began to tease her labia. She moaned, moving her hips to try to get me to touch her clit. “It’s torture, isn’t it?” I asked. “Right now you’d tell me anything, promise me anything, just so I’d let you have the release your body’s crying out for right now.” Tears streamed down her face as she nodded. I heightened her stimulation without touching the all-important pleasure buttons. She whimpered, lust overpowering all else. Her nipples and pussy ached for my touch. It made me feel powerful to say the least. “You are mine.” I said, pinching her nipples savagely. Her body bucked and thrashed in orgasm. The chair fell over backwards. She lost consciousness before the orgasm ended. I untied her and lay her nude body on the bed. I wiped off the chair and sat in it ass-backwards, waiting for her to awaken.

It was nearly time for the girls to be coming back when she awoke. Her movements were slow, lethargic, as if she barely had any energy. When she rose, her knees wobbled, threatening to buckle. I got up out of the chair and caught her. I started to caress her and comfort her. She sighed.

“There’s no way I could experience that much pleasure with anyone else, is there?” she asked. I shrugged.

“I just made your body sensitive.” I told her. “I didn’t put any limits on who you could come with.”

“But why did it feel like I was being put in my place?”

“That’s something you’ll have to figure out yourself.” I told her. “Right now, though, I want you to take a shower. You’re sticky.”

“Yes, sir.” she replied, staggering to the bathroom.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Moira.” she replied. Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought I saw her smile.

“Hi, Wes!” I said cheerfully when I recognized the voice over the phone.

“Hey, man, what’s happening?” Wes asked.

“I’m being watched by the government.” I replied.

“Isn’t everybody?” Wes asked.

“Seriously, Wes, I’ve got one of their operatives in my room now.”

“Is she cute?”

“A redhead.” I replied. “Creamy skin and green eyes that burn with a passionate fire.”

“Damn, I’m getting a hard-on already!” Wes replied. “So did you use the Pen to bang her?”

“Actually, I made her boobs really big and made her body sensitive, then I played it myself from there.”

“You’re right, sometimes having everything just handed to you on a silver platter is boring.” Wes replied. “Mind if I borrow the Pen? A guy needs lovin’ every now and then, you know.”

“I know, but if that’s all you’re going to use it for, I can do that from here.” I told him, already laying out a paragraph.

“What the hell?” Wes’s voice said. “Shit! Warn a guy before you change his physique, how ‘bout it?”

“Like the muscles?”

“’Ah’ll be bach.’” Wes replied in a very bad Austrian accent. He chuckled. “Nice. I could beat up Troy Aikman with this!”

“You know that rolled-up sock you wear to the beach?”

“Don’t say that over a tapped line!” Wes hissed.

“It’s not like it’s a secret, Wes. Nothing grows in the shade.” I replied. “But how would you like to not have to wear that thing?”

“You serious, man?” Wes asked. Two more sentences, and Wes’s zipper burst. “Holy shit!”

“Now for somebody to try it on.” I said. “I’ll sign off now, because pretty soon you won’t have time to talk.” With that, I hung up the phone and began to write out Wes’s whole afternoon, giving him four energetic young nympho-bimbos with enough stamina to keep him from wanting any others.

Moira went limp, losing consciousness as she orgasmed on my cock. I sat back, catching my breath. Rechannelling her passion was becoming a very rewarding experience. After lowering her inhibitions with the Pen, I was able to open her to the idea of female/female sex, thus enabling Becky and Sally to keep her company while I recovered or paid attention to the others.

Checking my email, I found a dozen monetary offers waiting for me, each one representing more money than I had seen in one place in my life. I deleted the ones which would require the girls to have sex with men other than me, and sent replies to the best of the rest.

“Earning us some income, Master?” Becky asked, sliding into the niche under the desk.

“Yep.” I replied. “Are you doing what I think you’re doing?”

“Unless you’d prefer me to serve you in another way, Master.” she replied huskily, then pulled my zipper down with her teeth.

“Oh, baby, you know what I like.” I chuckled, the chuckle messing up my attempted Big Bopper impersonation. I let her have her fun, squeaking my chair back a bit. I really needed to get that squeak fixed. I didn’t know which came first, my orgasm, or the feeling of danger, but the latter knocked me out of my enjoyment of the former. “Wake the girls.” I told Becky. She complied without question, keeping herself calm to avoid panicking them. Picking up the Pen, I quested around until I found some paper, and when I did, I conjured a force field which could only be penetrated by authorized persons and air molecules. anything else would get vaporized.

“What’s going on?” Moira asked.

“We’re being invaded.” I replied. Nervous intakes of breath followed. “Everyone get in the bathroom.” They complied, not quite understanding until they felt the tingle as the force field identified them as authorized persons and allowed them to pass. I zipped myself up as I prepared a literary defense.

The invading NSA agents were surprised and unprepared as two giant Wing Gundam robots rose from hidden silos beneath the front lawn. The bulk of the force kept the robots busy while the main strike force wove between the Beam Cannon blasts to the house, where they knew they would find a more subtle, but still difficult defense. The strike force consisted of the NSA’s best and brightest assassins, eight men and nine women, trained in dozens of methods of unarmed combat and the use of all weapons known to man. As they stepped through the unlocked front door, the floor under their feet began to shift. As the floor sank beneath their feet, the men grew angry and tried to wrestle free. When that failed, they used traditional quicksand-escape techniques, growing angrier still when they failed to work, and sinking even more quickly. The females quickly understood that the floor sensed their hostility and used that to determine friend and foe. Focussing themselves, they forced themselves to be calm, and the floor, no longer sensing their hostility, returned to its normal shape, leaving the eight women to continue the mission while the men whose anger had gotten the better of them were locked away in the bedrock beneath the house. They ascended the stairs carefully, watching for anything unusual, which they quickly found once they reached the middle. The banister became a giant snake and wrapped itself around the operatives. Muscle contractions in the snake’s body forced them all to face the same direction—at the head of the snake. Its radiantly-glowing gaze shifted and swirled, and the assassins could not look away. Its power was strong, flowing into their minds and reshaping them. Only when they were utterly brainwashed and completely devoted to the service of their new Master and the protection of his harem did it allow them to proceed to their Master’s presence, returning once more to the shape and form of a banister.

It was only moments before my newest mindslaves stepped through my bedroom door and knelt before me on the floor, awaiting my commands. I still had to get rid of the others outside, though.

The invaders had suffered heavy losses, and the commanding officer knew that the emergence of a giant Powermaster Optimus Prime from another hidden underground silo would only cause more. He ordered his troops to evacuate, and the three giant machines chased them to the city limits before vanishing back into the mists of unreality. The mists swirled about the troops, preventing them from finding their way back to town. They finally cleared about daybreak, and the troops found that they had been magically transported all the way to the south lawn of the White House in Washington, D.C., where they found themselves surrounded by White House security, demanding explanations.

“That buys us a short respite.” I muttered. “You can come out now, ladies.” My harem emerged from the restroom, and we were all free to examine the new accquisitions.

“Three more and we can make a Women of the N.S.A. calendar.” Becky said, trying to alleviate the stress we were all feeling. It worked. I chuckled, and was soon joined by the others. The assassins gazed submissively up at me, and I remembered I had a job to do. It was time to initiate the new arrivals into the rest of the group.

“Stand and identify yourselves.” I commanded.

“Yes, Master.” the women said in unison, rising to their feet as they introduced themselves to me.