The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

There’s a particular sound a woman makes when a climax is torn from her helpless body. Or, more accurately, every woman has her own peculiar sound, an orgasmic fingerprint if you will.

Which meant I recognised Helen immediately, despite the layers of tape and muffling sponge.

It gives some clue as to my state of mind that my first thought, as I swept into the lounge, was to wonder just how my lover had managed to contort herself into such a stringent and apparently inescapable hogtie.

Self-bondage was one of Helen’s many proclivities and I’d grown used to discovering her in one securely wrapped predicament or another. But, even to my jaded eye, this was a step beyond the usual.

Pinioned is a word that’s not used nearly enough. And Helen’s arms were very definitely pinioned, I could see the strain in her bright eyes and winced in sympathy when I saw just how firmly her elbows had been drawn together.

She lay face-down on the sofa. The ropework deeply indenting her shoulders suggested a rudimentary harness. Thighs and calves bound securely, her back was bowed, which lifted her full breasts partially clear of the soft cushions.

Her moans grew stronger as she caught sight of me, drowning out the relentless hum of whatever toys she had buried between her rippling thighs. It took precious seconds for me to realise that it wasn’t me she was staring at, her eyes wide with fear, but at a point just behind my shoulder.

I began to turn, my mind finally catching up as I belatedly slotted the pieces together.

The pulsar flared against the base of my spine, goosing me with frozen lightning and turning my muscles to water. Heat took hold of my belly, even as my legs folded beneath me and the arms that caught and held me were an almost welcome relief.

“Too easy,” a matronly voice breathed into my ear and the next moment I felt the chill bulb of the stun-stick nestling against the angle of my jaw.

Light exploded in my mind, snatching away my thoughts and leaving nothing but icy tightness.

Helen’s moans drew me back from the darkness and I grasped gratefully at the familiarity of her arousal. The double-tap left me groggy and tingling, filled with an aching frustration that experience told me was only going to get worse.

My nakedness didn’t surprise me, nor did the ropes. Although, in fairness to my captor’s ability, the bondage felt a lot more efficient than I’d hoped. I squirmed experimentally, just testing their strength. But only succeeded in scouring my swollen breasts against the textured linoleum.

A viciously-knotted crotch rope ground between my pouting lips, the perfect predicament bondage that twitched and shivered with even the tiniest of movements. I groaned, something sodden and spongy absorbing the sound before it could do anything to relieve my frustration.

“She’s awake,” someone announced and I could almost taste her rawness in those unnecessary syllables.

It’s hard to maintain a feeling of superiority when you’re lying hogtied at someone else’s feet. But I gave it my best shot.

“Yes,” the more serious voice responded with what felt like almost infinite patience. “Thank you, Clara.”

I fought to relax, knowing instinctively that this wasn’t the time to struggle. But that only brought the fiendishness of the bondage into sharper focus. My shoulders weren’t exactly screaming, but they pulled uncomfortably, urging me into motion that would set the crotchrope humming.

If I just straightened my legs a fraction, I knew it would ease the tension and, worse still, I knew how good it was going to feel. The scent of sweat was sharp, but not nearly strong enough to mask the pall of arousal hanging over me like a musty blanket.

Another muffled gasp reassured me that Helen was still close by, as well as prompting parts of me to clench in joyous sympathy at her all too apparent arousal. Perhaps it was nothing but wishful thinking, but I swear I could pick her perfume from the amidst the overpowering musk.

“Welcome back,” my captor continued. “My apologies for this rough treatment, but I had to ensure you would listen. I’m sure you understand.”

I snorted in derision, mute sarcasm my only refuge. I felt another presence step closer and fought not to flinch.

“Clara,” the single word seemed to echo, the threat hanging between us, as a softly-spoken promise.

Smiling behind the gag, I relished my small victory. It wasn’t much, but under the circumstances, I had no option but to take what I could get.

“And you,” my captor continued, clearly wishing to soothe the sting of her rebuke. “Josephine, would do well to remember that it is not merely your own fate which hangs in the balance.”

A warm hand stroked through my hair, fingers tangling in the blonde locks as the long nails scratched gently over my scalp. I felt the tingling flow down into my neck and couldn’t stop my muscles from answering that delicious twinge. The rope seemed to sing between my puffy lips, focussing a low, buzzing note in the very centre of my trembling clit.

“I hate you,” she sighed as her touch slid lower and tangled in the cord linking my wrists and ankles.

Her grip tightened, the tension almost lifting me from the floor as she tugged sharply. Merciless mechanics sawed the crotch rope more deeply into my pussy and I had no choice but to scream. Far too tender flesh squirmed beneath the cruel friction, the sensation vibrating somewhere between pain and pleasure while remaining stubbornly worse and yet so very much better.

Helen’s scream seemed to match my own and I jerked, the horror of what they might be doing to her cutting through my torment. Our eyes met across the room, glistening with fresh tears as we both fought to reassure the other, to share the lie that everything was going to be okay.

“And you don’t even know why,” my tormentor asked, letting her fingers slip free once more. “Do you?”

I racked my brain, searching for some clue as to who this mad woman might be, and came up empty. Sure I had enemies, probably more than my fair share if truth be told (after all, you can’t smash through a glass ceiling without raining broken fragments onto the little people stuck beneath you). But none of them harboured this amount of rage.

The woman stepped away from me, finally giving me an unobstructed view of our captor. She was shorter than I’d expected with olive skin that hinted at exotic origins far more than her sharp features. Her clothing proved another contradiction, pastel, silk wrappings that contrived to both conceal and define her ample curves.

There was no choice but to watch, helplessly as she limped across the small room. Anechoic tiling lined the walls and ceiling, ensuring out privacy wherever this prison happened to be located. Guttering candle light didn’t quite dispel the sense of high-tech dungeon, but sent sinister shadows dancing into darker corners.

The woman leaned heavily on staff that had to be nearly as tall as she was. Her knuckles were white as they gripped its haft and the effort even those few steps cost was all too apparent.

Helen whimpered and that snapped my attention back. A second woman was kneeling beside her now, an Amazonian blonde I assumed must be ‘Clara’. Her outfit consisted of nothing more than a collection of jewels and silver bangles. Raw sexuality seemed to ooze from her oiled skinned and even at a distance it was a struggle not to respond.

Seemingly without effort she rolled Helen over, pinning my lover in her lap. I swallowed hard, my gaze inexorably drawn to the taut pucker of bound nipples and feeling how, despite everything, mine were tingling in sympathy.

“Let’s see if we can’t jog your memory,” the limping woman smiled darkly.

She produced a small metal box, an act of simple legerdemain that felt far more impressive than it had any right to. Helen squirmed against Clara’s body, her eyes wide with panic as our captor drew an antique syringe from the felt-lined interior.

Clara reached around, using her long fingers to take possession of her victim’s breast. Neatly manicured nails dug into the soft flesh, milking the ripeness and squeezing the softest of moans from Helen’s throat. I never thought of looking away, even as those same deft fingers plucked my lover’s nipple and stretched.

The anguished hiss made me wince even more than the sight of that sharp needle piercing the sensitised flesh. Helen thrashed in place, while Clara continued to massage her abused tit. But those feeble struggles only reinforced the hopelessness of her position and, as if to emphasise that fact, her tormentor switched her attention to the other breast.

“This is what they did to her,” the other woman explained, the needle hovering above Helen’s nipple.

It made no sense and I tried to make her understand, screaming into my gag that she had the wrong woman. I was just a fucking chemist for Christ’s sake! And yet, somewhere amidst that denial I was beginning to understand.

Savagely she jabbed with the needle, forcing another muffled whine from Helen’s sealed lips. I howled obscenities at her, powerless to do anything more.

Clara was grinning malevolently as she untied Helen’s crotchrope, loosened the bonds around my the girl’s knees and then used her fingertips to carefully prise apart the helpless woman’s pussylips. The quality of my lover’s moans was gradually shifting, becoming more needy with every stroke of those dexterous digits.

“All thanks to you,” the silk-clad woman spat. “They took my sister, broke her, changed her, screwed her mind so badly I don’t even recognise the thing she’s become!”

I couldn’t see what they were doing, but Helen’s anguished whimper told me everything I needed to know. They slid the third injection into my lover’s carefully prepared clit, while I ground myself into that unremitting rope and tried not imagine how that sharp kiss might feel.

“All thanks to you,” she whispered, carefully replacing the syringe in its felt cradle.

A horrible premonition stirred. I almost dismissed the thought before it was born, after all, my work was in research and development. Nothing I dreamt up had ever left the safety of the test-lab. Had it?

“Can you imagine how I feel?” the woman asked, her tone no longer angry but instead almost unbearably tired. “As you lie there and someone else, someone for whom you care so very deeply, is forced to succumb?”

With that, she levered herself back to her feet. Clara gave Helen’s cunt one last, almost playful slap and then eased the flushed woman off of her lap and back onto the tiled floor. My mind was spinning. Of course it was impossibly naive to imagine that my work didn’t have a practical purpose, but I’d managed to convince myself that we were still years away from field-testing.

The woman plucked a candle from its stand and then made her slow way back to where Helen lay panting. I looked away, somehow finding Helen’s gaze and the lust that burned behind it too much to bear. Her skin was flushed with arousal and her hips pumped weakly, searching for the crotchrope’s none-too-tender caress.

“I understand that, given time, the stimulant can drive a woman insane,” our tormentor said blandly, her eyes glinting.

I shook my head, desperation taking hold. If I could only make her understand me I could beg her not to harm Helen but to take me instead. But when I looked back into those unfathomably dark eyes, I realised that she already knew and that she had no intention of sparing me or my lover.

She tilted the candle suddenly, splattering molten wax across Helen’s bared breasts and triggering her into a paroxysm of futile struggling. Her shriek cut straight through me, sensory overload given voice that clutched wantonly at my bound cunt and made me long to answer it in kind.

Another torrent of crimson splashed over my lover’s body, coating her nipples in an oozing tide. Helen screamed again, lifting her body to meet the scalding wax even as it began to trickle onto her belly.

“This was going to be you,” the madwoman growled, flicking another cascade of scarlet droplets. “But imagine my surprise and delight when I discovered there was someone you cared about.”

The candle hovered, clear wax pooling until it threatened to snuff out the flickering wick. Helen mewled weakly, writhing in her bonds and humping the air more and more desperately. The perfume of the candle mingled with the pervasive scent of desire, filling the room with a cloying, lusty miasma.

A thin stream of heat rained down on Helen’s belly, painting a slow line of gleaming droplets over her puffy mound and onto her exposed clit. She screamed, the sudden sound piercing her jaw-stretching gag and speaking with perfect eloquence of her utterly helpless need.

Her desire flowed through me, its raw heat licking hungrily at my pussy walls and forcing them into shivering spasm. The person for whom I cared most in all the world was being sexually tortured by this mad-woman and instead of being horrifying, that idea was almost unbearably erotic.

The rope had become another liquid thread, burning between my lips and scouring insistently at my resolve. I flexed my legs, dragging the cord back and forth through its dipping tract. Helen’s passion washed over me, her inability to resist the sensual assault stoking my arousal until it grew impossible to do anything but grind myself against that wicked tether.

At some point, the bulbous tip of that ornate staff caressed my straining buttocks, pressing the rope more firmly against my quivering clit just an instant before another explosion of azure light sucked away what little remained of my senses.

Pleasure took hold of me again, sinking its talons into my yearning breasts and hauling me back into a world of brilliant light and far too sharp sensation. I screamed, my body’s errant spasms only adding to the agony clawing at my nipples.

Eyes glittering with madness flashed mere inches from my contorted face and could offer nothing as they gleamed more darkly. Our captor grimaced, twisting savagely and sending an diamond hard lance through the soft core of my helpless breast.

Clara’s strong arms wrapped around me, lulling me back into her seductive warmth. The Amazon’s nipples were bright embers, burning into my bound arms and her embrace felt like an oasis of safety, which should give some indication of just how poor my judgement had become by that point

“Welcome back, Josephine,” the woman smiled. “I know you’ve been feeling horribly neglected, having to watch while all the attention was lavished upon your... bitch! But now it’s your turn.”

The sodden sponge absorbed most of my response, but that really didn’t matter, my meaning was still perfectly clear. Our captor released her grip on my nipple, letting the tender nub snap back and setting the soft flesh into rippling motion.

“Her name was Sofie,” she told me, the same blank mask settling over her features. “Sofie Blake. Not that I expect the name to mean anything to you.”

I shook my head, desperately searching for some connection, some empathy with this crazy woman. Arousal still clung to me, but something had changed and the swirl of desire made it hard to focus. Clara’s rough palm swept down over my belly, and then, as though she sensed my question, began to rub smoothly into my shaven mound.

My hips lurched, as though propelled by the groan that calculated touch forced from my throat. The crotchrope’s absence took another moment to register, and the thought of how Helen had been treated was enough to make me choke on my own terrified lust.

“Don’t you dare deny it!” the woman hissed, eyes blazing. “It might not have been your finger on the plunger, but it was your shit they used on her.”

Cunning fingers stretched my lips wide and my unbound knees followed their lead. Carla’s body shivered beneath me, hot breath stinging my ear as she panted her need. I moaned, the heat of embarrassment staining my skin even as I turned away from my accuser’s unflinching gaze.

I could feel Clara luring my ecstatic clit into her hands and barely stifled the deep sigh of perverse resignation. Sharp nails took hold of the succulent nub, lifting and presenting it. My body tensed, waiting for the sharper sting of the woman’s needle.

“No, Carla,” the woman whispered, leaning in until her face was uncomfortably close to my pussy. Her voice slithered against the wet skin, coaxing another moan from my dry lips. “Josephine needs to be clear-headed... I want her to appreciate every moment of this.”

Everything seemed to go very still, until the only sound was that of our breathing. I could feel the harsh pant of the woman’s breath, the soft purr of Carla’s excitement even over the restless hammer of my heart. But, somewhere in the background, amidst the silence, I began to pick out another series of familiar noises.

The unmistakable sounds of Helen’s continued torment drifted across the room. They wrapped themselves languorously around my hind-brain, ignoring my feeble attempts at resistance. Oh I knew that getting off on my lover’s powerlessness was wrong, I just hadn’t gotten around to explaining that to my over-active libido.

“Can you imagine what she’s feeling?” the woman breathed, each syllable licking wickedly over my stretched cuntlips. “How your poison burns her nipples, how the toxins lap at her poor, powerless pussy?”

I couldn’t help myself, the whine of desire forced itself between my parched lips and the woman’s low chuckle sent ripples of sensation fluttering deep into my belly. I growled into the thick wadding, desperate to convert the perverse arousal into something more wholesome. But there was no way to hold on to my anger, it simply melted back into the building need.

“That’s right,” the woman congratulated me and I could feel her grin. “You can picture that soft, supple body clenching around the ropes, hopelessly fighting the drugs... your drugs... knowing in her heart that the battle is already over. Knowing that all her future holds is a series of increasingly more intense climaxes, each one more corrosive than the next.”

The whimper slipped from beneath my gag and a little more of my strength seemed to flow with it. I lurched against Clara, heaving my buttocks into the air as I thrust myself toward the other woman’s tantalising tongue.

Her answering chuckle hummed between my pouting lips, setting my clit atremble and making me moan even more helplessly.

“Oh Josephine,” she laughed, “You can’t possibly be getting off on your lover’s predicament, can you? Or are you picturing yourself in her position? Packaged up so very tight, those cruel ropes grinding relentlessly into your captive flesh, so that even the slightest movement only adds to the thickening layers of control.”

Clara’s grip shifted slightly, pressing me back down into her waiting lap. I squirmed defiantly, not to escape, but to press my cunt to my tormentor’s mouth. The Amazon had mechanics on her size, although she had more than enough strength for that to be a moot point. Worse still, I could tell that my struggles were only adding to her arousal, which in turn made my own need all the more irresistible.

“Susan would’ve begged,” she whispered, her tongue forcing the sound of every consonant into my tortured nub. “Everyone breaks in the ends and she wasn’t that strong. But they ignored her, perhaps they even mocked her for that weakness.”

Her voice trailed off, its sibilance still lingering between my lips. Clara’s grip was implacable and my muscles could only twitch their longing as that same combination of revulsion and desire took hold of my loins.

“Beg for me,” she smiled, sweet poison dripping from her words. “Make me believe you mean it. Plead for your bitch’s freedom and perhaps you can melt my stony heart.”

I recoiled from her savagery, shocked by the depth of her anger. Somewhere beyond the undeniable need, I could feel my guilt beginning to stir. It was so hard to think of anything except how badly I wanted to feel the touch of that acid tongue, but Helen didn’t deserve any of this and, however slight, I couldn’t pass up a chance of setting her free.

The dark, liquid part of my conscience whispered in the background, reminding me just how badly the thought of Helen’s ordeal was getting to me. I was the worst kind of hypocrite, but if I could just do this one thing right.

Mmmmpppffffing desperately into the gag, I squirmed against Clara and tried to communicate with the mad woman. My eyes were wide and pleading, tears spilling softly over my cheeks. Even so, the words were horribly garbled.

“Do you care nothing for her?” my tormentor sighed and even that was enough to make my cunt tighten. “Does her suffering mean nothing to you?”

I screamed into the gag, stretching my mouth wide in the hope of forcing my words around the stifling sponge. Christ knew what the woman had planned for us and I could almost feel my desire to escape slipping away with every twinge of my traitorous cunt. I had to help Helen, while I remembered that was what I wanted.

“You’re not trying,” the woman announced, her voice flat. “You disappoint me, Josephine, I thought we had found someone you actually cared about. But it seems I was mistaken. You really are just a selfish, self-centred bitch, aren’t you?”

My howl held only a small measure of the pain I felt. I screamed my denial, refusing to accept the unfairness of it all. But I knew that the display would do nothing to change my captor’s mind. Holding out the possibility of hope and then cruelly snatching it away was supposed to help break my spirit. I knew that, the problem was that faced with Helen’s continued captivity that knowledge did nothing to help.

“The selfish slut is thinking with her cunt,” the woman announced coldly. “Show it what happens to girls who betray their friends.”

Clara slipped one arm free, allowing me to squirm a little more. But the Amazon’s wiry strength was more than enough to keep me pinned in place, even when she showed me other one of their toys.

The dildo was enormous, its dark, heavily ridged surface quite eye-wateringly bulky. It took me a moment to recognise that it was a double-ended model, whose twin bulbous heads glistened menacingly. Clara wasted no time, pausing just long enough to register my startled reaction before pressing one end of the obscene device against the entrance to my sex.

I moaned, feeling myself stretched as the dildo slid slowly into me. The sensation was simply excruciating and I couldn’t tell whether it was pain or pleasure forcing me to tense and shudder. Those wicked ridges skipped and skittered over my inner walls, replacing the aching hollowness with a sense of fullness that made me want to scream.

The tip of the monstrous device nestled sweetly against my g-spot, where it could send tiny tremors of lightning dancing into my core. I writhed, my buttocks gliding wonderfully over Carla’s juice-coated skin and felt her tremble in response.

There was a moment of the most profound bliss. I lost myself in the sensations, happy to be plugged and held so delightfully, and then my world exploded into the familiar light of a pulsar flash. Pleasure surged through my body. Artificial lightning wrapped around my pussy and my consciousness was dashed away.

“Wake up!”

The woman’s voice drifted from the darkness, but it was her grip on my throat that hauled me back to reality.

“Nap time’s over, Josephine,” she chided, taking hold of a fistful of hair and using it to lift my head.

My groggy moan seemed to echo, its timbre warping bizarrely. I struggled to open my eyes, blinking sluggishly as I tried to dispel the residual torpor. Helen’s face swam into focus and I felt my heart skip a beat. Her eyes were glassy and the scarlet ballgag stretched her mouth painfully wide.

Slowly more sensations began to impinge on my awareness. I was sitting in the same room as before, my legs spread in a wide ‘v’ and wrapped in slender cord. Helen’s legs were lashed tightly to mine, while Clara’s evil double dildo connected our twinned pussies.

An intricate webwork decorated her pert breasts and I could feel a similar pattern of ropes clinging wickedly to my own. My jaw ached and the taste of rubber burned my palate. I tried to stretch, but a heavy weight dragged at my wrists. Glancing away from Helen’s lust-fogged gaze I noted the shiny, chrome cuffs by which we’d both been shackled.

I tugged on them experimentally, jerking the chain and setting it jangling against the heavy ring set into the ground between us.

Our captor pulled sharply on my hair dragged my attention away from the high-tech manacles. I hissed behind the gag, suddenly acutely aware of the drool trickling from the corner of my mouth.

“I’ve called some of your customers,” she hissed. “They’ll be here to make a collection in about half an hour. The pulsars embedded in that dildo will have fired by then, so I imagine you won’t be giving them any trouble. Assuming you’re still here when they arrive of course... Which brings me onto this...”

She waved an oversized pistol in front of my face, giving me just enough time to recognise the compressed gas bottle and the ampoules loaded into its cylindrical magazine. I twisted in place, trying to follow the weapon as it slipped out of view. But a sudden tightness around my throat pulled me up short.

“Five vials of distilled water,” she chuckled, her words punctuated by the soft whirr of the spinning chambers. “A one loaded with ES90.”

I almost choked. My double-take must’ve looked comical, it certainly provoked another bout of cruel laughter from our captor. ES90 was some of the nastiest shit to ever come out of R&D, I should know, I worked on the team that created it.

The stuff was pure, liquid mindfuck. An aphrodisiac at even low dosages, when taken in quantity it saturated the victims body. Soaking into their brain and other vital organs, the drug enlarged the pleasure centres, reducing their thinking capacity and shrivelling the parts of the brain that dealt with logic, just a little.

If you were lucky enough to have been blessed with a pair of unmatched sex chromosomes then that was as bad as it got. For the female of the species, those initial changes were merely the start.

A few short minutes after exposure, the victim’s sensory pathways became more conductive, their mucous membranes more sensitive. After a couple of hours, the walls of a woman’s vagina began to swell and her clit became permanently engorged.

All the victim’s carnal urges were heightened, until they became a voracious hunter of anyone who could make their pussy weep. Anyone would could bring them to their knees with orgasm after orgasm. Unable to resist. Unable to say no. Just desperate to please and be pleased.

The woman’s fingers brushed my neck, grazing the hot skin and drawing my attention to the slender metal band encircling my throat. Glancing back up I saw that Helen wore the same collar and I shivered at the implications of our unadorned jewellery.

“Empty all six chambers,” the woman explained. “And the shackles will unlock.”

She paused dramatically, letting her words soak in for a long moment before continuing.

“Of course,” she chuckled. “The gun will only fire when it’s plugged into one of these collars.”

While I absorbed this new information, the woman reached between us and caressed the very centre of the twin dildo. Immediately it hummed into life, building the charge that would drop us both back into the waiting arms of oblivion.

Helen gave a guttural moan and began to rock her pelvis. I tried to shut out the wet squelch of arousal, but the sound was simply too primal to ignore. My cunt clenched tightly around the intruding dildo, pulsar flare dancing over every succulent fold.

So, it was Russian Roulette?

“If you want to get loose, then one of you is going to have to get a dose of slut-juice,” the woman snapped angrily. “What happens after that is down to the last bitch standing... who knows, there might even be enough time for you both to get out of here before the collectors arrive.”

I trembled desperately, the image of what was going to happen so clear in my mind. The intensity of my desire surprised me, but I wasn’t under any illusions. Despite what our captor might say, she had no intention of letting either one of us out of this room with our minds intact.

“I’m going to leave now,” she smiled, hobbling toward the door. “Enjoy these last few minutes... just remember that you’re getting a chance that Susan never had.”

The door slammed shut and we were alone once more. The sense of finality almost palpable, but at least we were spared the woman’s casual scorn. Helen groaned more loudly, fighting to impale herself on the buzzing rod. Sweat beaded her luscious body as she arched and thrust.

My mind was reeling. Desire gnawed insistently at my resolve, constantly dragging my thoughts down other, more pleasurable paths even as I fought to focus. The dildo sparkled against my g-spot, its pulsing light flaring between my buttocks and causing them to tense ecstatically.

One look at Helen’s slack features was enough. If I took a dose of the serum, she was in no fit state to get either of us loose. And yet, how could I possibly subject my lover to the poison I’d help create?

The hum of the twin vibe great more wonderful as the seconds ticked slowly by and there was nothing I could do about it.

With an effort of will I dragged my gaze away from the glistening beads of sweat that clung to Helen’s soft curves. My fingers closed tightly around the gun’s sculpted grip and I mmmppffffed softly into the gag, eyes pained and pleading.

The pistol slotted into the collar with a soft clunk and I breathed a silent prayer to whatever gods might be watching over us. My whine of despair was the closest I could get to an apology.

She stared back blankly, fucking the dildo in wild abandon, her nipples darkly swollen and tense. I felt the wetness slide languorously down my cheek even as I began to squeeze the stiff trigger.

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