The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

DISCLAIMER: Do not read if under the age of majority. This story contains naughty bits, the intimation of more naughty bits, mind control, mind control as naughty bits, and superheroes shamelessly ripped off from a large comic producer with their names changed to protect the depraved and to persuade Simon to put it on his site.(Original version on my site) It is, in short, not for kiddies, however much they may think it’s for them. They should go and read something far less evil, like Jack and the Beanstalk, wherein theft, murder, cruelty to animals, property damage and a complete disregard for the environment hardly commendable in this day and age.

TECHNICAL WIZARDRY

The Pixie finished speaking, finished telling Matthew about her many female teammates over the years. Matthew lay in silence for a few moments, enjoying the massage he was being given by the Gypsy Witch. “I think I shall have to have words with Priestess Selene, uppity bitch,” he said, finally. “Or, rather, I think I’d enjoy making her what she despises... a total slave.”

Carla Dancers came to a halt beside him, wearing a French maid’s outfit and a collar, the nametag CARLA engraved on one side and PROPERTY OF THE MASTER, as Matthew was now styling himself, on the other, and holding a silver platter—once the property of the Paladin’s butler, Jeremy—which bore a cut-crystal glass of whisky next to a bottle with an unpronounceable name; one of the best brands out of Scotland. The glass already had a measure in it.

“Thank you, Carla,” Matthew said, taking the glass and smiling.

“Yes, Master,” Carla replied, blankly. She retreated to the corner of the room, still bearing the platter. Matthew watched her go, her backside swinging in a manner which wasn’t calculated to arouse but might as well have been. He reconsidered his pronouncement on Selene.

“On second thoughts... I’ll make her less than a slave.” His smile widened to a grin, a grin appreciative of his own humour and of the changes he knew had taken place in his code of honour. “She shall be a slave to my slaves.” He looked back at the Pixie—her face frozen into blank immobility, she having not been brought back to consciousness yet—and amended the amendment. “Those of my slaves who will appreciate it, that is.”

He stroked the underside of the Pixie’s chin in a bored manner, just above her own collar, one which resembled Carla’s in every way except for the name, which was JANINE. Still no response. He watched his own hand, idly, as it slowed to a stop, then snorted. “Here I am treating you like a pet, Janine,” he said. “Well, we all know how inaccurate that is. Unless you go for a Bardot-style ‘sex kitten’ moniker. Still, I think... yes, I think we should get a cat for the mansion, don’t you?”

* * *

Felicity Hanning dropped lightly onto the rooftop of one of New York’s largest department stores. What was going on, she didn’t know. But there were clearly intruders of some kind on the top floor, and she happened to patrol this area when no-one else did. She could hardly shirk her duty now; so saying, she picked the lock on the lift maintenance door and made her way down onto the top floor...

* * *

... and felt inhumanly strong arms lock around her midriff, hauling her off the floor and carrying her across to a shadowy corner, in which a figure of darker shadow waited. Felicity looked down for a moment and saw that the arms around her, though feminine, were green. That could mean only one person; the Jade Giantess. Who was supposed to be one of the good guys; a Paladin, for God’s sake!

“H-Hey!” she spluttered. “Look, I know I used to be a crook, but I’m on your side now!”

“Oh, I doubt that,” came a voice from the shadows.

Matthew stepped forward into the light. “You see, right now Jenny Watson is under my control, and technically I’m on the side of villainy. I have, after all, defeated the Paladins and two teams of mutants, one government-controlled. Therefore Jenny is technically a villain and, if you’re no longer a crook, you cannot be on her side.” Jenny had stopped; now Matthew stopped also, just outside kick range from the Sable Cat. He smiled. “Apart from which, she is, as I said, under my control. Her purpose is to serve me, her side is me and her fellow slaves. Are you on that list? I think not,” he continued, his smile now a mirthless grin. “Or not yet, anyway,” he said, smiling.

“I never will be,” Felicity spat. Matthew looked down absently at where the spittle had landed. He took a handkerchief from his suit pocket and dabbed it away.

“You really should use logic rather than emotion with this sort of thing,” he said, gently. “I took the Paladins. I took two teams of mutants. Jenny has you completely trapped. Enslaving you will now be rather more simple than taking candy from a baby; babies tend to fight back. Perhaps not well, but they are capable.”

“So am I.”

He held up a small device which bore a remarkable similarity to a mobile phone. “After I press this button? I rather fancy...”

>KLIK<

“...not,” Matthew concluded.

My name is Felicity Hanning. I am the Sable-

My name is Felicity Hanning. I am Master’s obedient fuckslave. Nothing else matters.

* * *

Felicity purred. She stalked through the mansion on hands and knees, back arched. Now she wore nothing but a collar. The collar read KITTEN on one side and PROPERTY OF THE MASTER on the other. For Felicity now believed herself to be a cat. Admittedly, she lapped different things to normal cats. However, it seemed doubtful that she knew or cared.

Felicity’s life was simpler than it had ever been. She rubbed herself against the greenskinned legs of the Jade Giantess, her former captor. Jenny’s eyes glazed for a second and a triggered series of orgasms blasted through her groin like a chain reaction. She turned, her face slowly becoming blank, and walked directly to Matthew’s room, the tag on her collar flashing in the movement.

* * *

“Master, I have been triggered,” Jenny said, her voice dull.

Matthew regretfully tore his gaze away from the sight of Carla and Rachel-as-Carla in the throes of passion and rolled his eyes. He decided that at some point in the pretty near future he was going to have to remove some of the orders he’d given to do with Felicity. Making each of the women he chiefly used just as maidservants develop a mindless, bitch-in-heat level obsession with him every time Felicity came into contact with them was... wearing, at times. He was beginning to realise how many of the girls he didn’t need. Yet he was hardly going to get rid of them.

“Very well.” He gestured in front of him. Jenny approached and knelt in front of him, her face pressed against the carpet, her rump poised so that Matthew could choose for himself which of her holes to enter. Mental reprogramming determined that Jenny would orgasm either way.

Her height meant that this demeaning position left her at the right height for Matthew’s easy standing entry. Flipping the back of her short skirt onto her back, he chose his hole and began to plough it.

* * *

Conscience began to prey upon Matthew. After all, while he lived in state in Paladin Mansion, the women of three of the planet’s superteams now settled in to their new roles as his sex slaves, the remaining groups of superheroes were being stretched worryingly. He already had the Scent running interference on the priority hotline.

He decided that he could make at least a small concession to the world without damaging his lifestyle.

Accordingly he completed the enslavement of all remaining superhuman males, instead of—as had previously been the policy—leaving them as unusual statues, landmarks of his conquest, and he had them assemble in GeneFactor’s main briefing room.

He walked into the room, dressed in black jeans, black shirt and long maroon leather jacket—the Pixie’s funds and influence had allowed him a day in the top fashion shops being attended to by a superb personal buyer, and he was experimenting with a number of possible supervillain costumes, without going for anything so demeaning as an actual costume. He rather liked this one.

“Right,” he said, as the Scent followed him in. “I’ve arranged, through our charming automaton friend here, a press conference. You lot are going to announce to the world that GeneFactor and GeneWarriors are hereby disbanding but the male members are joining forces with the male members of the Paladins to create a new peacekeeping force owned by the Master.” He knew this one was risky, but he felt it was worth it to truly set the cat among the pigeons. Most of the remaining superheroines should come to him now, and the heroes they brought with them could bolster the new Paladin lineup. In any case, it would give him more choice and hopefully make the world a safer place.

“The Master, however, promises not to get involved in world affairs and to allow the Paladins to act as they always have. And the Steel Knight will lead the group.” He nodded, smiled, and rubbed his hands. “From now on you will act as you always would have with the following exceptions; if you ever harboured desires or any other interest in the women of your groups, you will forget it; you will form neither of these things in the future, and you will never go against me or my commands.”

He turned and left. “Well,” he announced briskly to his chauffeuse, Lisa, “that ought to have set the cat among the pigeons. We’ll have to be prepared for a number of attacks on the Mansion. But I’d imagine we’ll pull through.”

He reached out and squeezed her breast through her chauffeuse’ uniform. “Not that it matters to you just at the moment... Nothing does.”

They proceeded along their way. Occasionally Lisa blasted a car out of the way with a magnetic field of repulsion; it made for much quicker journeys.

* * *

The Ebony Widow landed nimbly inside the Mansion grounds, her grapple having carried her over the wall. She was prepared for some degree of resistance, following the announcement earlier. But not, sadly, for the activation of the security systems.

As she felt the dart sink cleanly into one black leather-covered buttock, she turned and stared, disbelieving. Her muscles began to fail her. She collapsed forward, eyes closing in sleep. Her last thought, just before she lost consciousness, was I should have been prepared...

* * *

She opened her eyes. Stark naked, now, and strapped—splay-legged and arms forced upward and apart—firmly to the wall of the Pixie’s bedroom, where the female Paladins had first come face to face with their Master.

But she still thought for herself, and she looked out on a scene of raw lust. Bethany had been triggered to ‘fuckslut’ mode not so long ago, while Matthew waited, and so was currently deeper in the throes of orgasm than any human could reach without mental reprogramming. She had been since Matthew entered her, and would be until he spent. Matthew considered this a fair tradeoff for Bethany’s mental freedom, and she had agreed many times.

Mechanically.

A hand grasped the Widow’s nipple and gave it a tug. She looked down—female hand, she noticed bemusedly—and then quickly to one side.

Vivienne Cookson. The least powerful of Matthew’s slaves, looking after the Widow while, she now realised, the sounds of the battle outside penetrated even to his innermost sanctum.

“Hi, cuddles,” the normally self-possessed Cookson smiled. She stepped closer to the Widow and forced her tongue into the Widow’s mouth. Stunned, the Russian offered no resistance.

Breaking for air, Cookson stared at the Widow as if in rapture. “Mmm... I’m gonna enjoy it when you kiss back, I can tell.” She ran her tongue salaciously around her lips. “Won’t be long now. Just wait until he’s done with the little mutant and he’ll give you a whole new outlook. Until then...”

Vivienne’s fingers slipped inside the Widow. They were cold, a fact Cookson didn’t much seem to care about. They were, however, wet—with Cookson’s saliva or with... other juices, the Widow didn’t want to speculate. She squirmed and clenched in an attempt to drive the hand out, but failed. Cookson’s tongue slid along the side of her face.

“Until then, sweetie, I’ve got orders to rock your world. And this’ll be fun, I promise you...”

Finally, the Widow’s horrified eyes picked out the wording on the collar that was Vivienne’s only piece of clothing. It began to sink in that she wasn’t going to escape.

Vivienne’s fingers worked away...

* * *

The Widow had just been reduced to the state of complete inanimate unawareness that precedes actual enslavement when the door to the Pixie’s bedroom opened. Matthew looked around lazily to find Priestess Selene walking over the threshold. He smiled and waited as she walked over to the manacles adjacent to the Widow’s own, stripped naked, levitated into place, and locked the bonds into place telekinetically.

Matthew looked back to the door, where Joanne and Emily could now be seen. Clearly the ex-Paladin telepath had run into more psionic power than she could handle.

“Well done, ladies,” he said, before walking up to Priestess Selene and running a finger gently along one cheek. From the look in her eyes one could tell that she hated this; however, she moaned softly in appreciation and leaned toward him. Matthew looked over his shoulder and saw a cruel smile curving Emily’s lips, and understood immediately where the adlib had come from. He grinned.

“Dear me, Selene... Scared? Of me? That won’t do... one moment while I finish attending to the Ebony Widow, if you please, and then we’ll take that fear away.” He smiled into her eyes. “Or perhaps we won’t. It really does depend upon your psychic conduct, which my servants can vouch for better than I.”

He proceeded to place the inducer over the Widow’s eyes and hit the button. “I’m afraid I don’t have time to break you in properly yet, Widow,” he said. “Or, rather, I can’t spare you for long enough. “I need you to put your costume back on, but wear the armbands on that tray rather than your own. They have a rather different bite... They’ll create that blank, mindless state I just lifted you out of, although for some reason once you’ve been treated you don’t return to it. Zap everyone you can—but be careful with the women; the new Paladin lineup is probably powerful enough. However, the more men you get in working order as well, the better. Have fun.”

“Yes, Master,” she droned, picking her leather catsuit up once more. “Oh, one final thing while I remember,” Matthew said, before turning to Vivienne. She now bore a silver platter, on which rested a collar. He picked it up and fastened it around the Widow’s neck. NATALIE, it read on one side. On the other was the usual declaration.

As Natalie departed via the window for the combat, Matthew turned to Selene.

“My slaves call me Master,” he said, conversationally. “You are not one of them—yet—therefore you may refer to me as the Master. However, this information is reasonably pointless.

He beckoned Vivienne to him. In this time she had set the first platter aside and selected a new one. This one did not only bear a collar, but also a strange device. He picked it up. “Double feature, this,” he said. “Emma, tilt her head forward... I need to be able to get at her neck.”

“Yes, Master.”

He felt around the back of Priestess Selene’s neck until he was sure of a gap between vertebrae. Then he placed the nozzle of the device against the skin at that point and pressed a button.

“Neural nanotech,” he explained, stepping away. “In development by one of my colleagues shortly before I switched career paths. It’s supposed to implant information immediately—skills, and so forth. It didn’t take much alteration to design one that severs neural pathways and implants itself on the end. Took a bit more work to make the inducer work the same way, but I did have ridiculous amounts of data on the biological/technical divide stashed in Paladin computers... But essentially, it duplicates each input pathway, so it knows as much about what’s going on in your body as you do. It, however, has taken over the output pathways.” He grinned. “You’ll know exactly what’s going on, what you’re doing, but you have no say in what you’re doing anymore. It eliminates the need to blank your mind before inducing you—” which he proceeded to do, “—and now you’re going to get what your teammates seemed to think you deserved. I haven’t heard much that’s good about you, Selene. However, you now truly do have a chance to redeem yourself. There are heroes fighting out there, Selene; fighting simply because I now sponsor some of them. You will go and aid my cause; subdue any enemy females and bring them here. Enemy males... render them unconscious. We can deal with them later. Understand?”

“Yes, Master,” she said blankly.

“Good,” Matthew said. He fastened her collar around her neck. “Emily, Joanne... get back to the fight. I’m hardly in any danger from this uppity slave now. Oh, one last thing, Selene...”

He dropped his trousers and turned away from her. “Kiss my butt.”

“Yes, Master.” Matthew felt her lips fasten against his flesh briefly. Immediately afterward, Priestess Selene walked out of the door. Matthew considered calling her back to don her costume once more, and would have decided against it—there was scarcely any costume as it was—when it occurred to him that the Master had to appear relatively benevolent. “Selene, get back here.”

* * *

Selene stood naked in the middle of a crowd of former superheroines, now including many we have not witnessed the enslavement of—the battle around the Mansion following the press conference had involved most solo heroes and heroines and a great many of the superteams. All had eventually fallen to the Master. The Paladins were now unwieldy; he was considering the reinstitution of their west coast branch, or possibly basing half of them in Europe or the Middle East. And his harem had grown considerably. Even a couple of supervillains had fallen under his thrall, having come with the intention of negotiating a pact with the Master.

Unprompted by the surrounding heroines, Selene knelt. She bowed her head.

“Mistresses,” she said, her voice full of contrition, “Master has interrogated me with regard to the Pixie’s description of me and found me guilty, as I am. He has passed sentence... I am now yours to command, a slave to slaves.”

She paused, swallowed. “I accept his judgement. Do with me as you will.”

* * *

Matthew watched this from the door, smiling. Forcing her body into apology while her mind still seethed... it was an idea he liked. And it seemed a fitting punishment. He would be careful not to let it over-run.

If he remembered.