The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Jorden M Williams arrives: Mike Ferguson is interrupted: Jorden M Williams takes over: Conversation is boring: This is not good: Cheryl has a theory: Wishful thinking: The button is pressed: He was too late: Enemies escape: Detroit Damsels: The Franchise is alarmed: Increased surveillance approved: The Propofol Gang in the firing line: The large oblong box descends: A donation is given: Airstrip and Hairy Cunt: She was never to find out: Lap Dance: Does Kylie see the loophole?: Nullify the druggie:

The remote surveillance of the building detected the natural mind controller Jordan M. Williams as soon as he got out of his car in the car park. There were another two cars with him, and the whole group emerged from their cars. Dr. Martinez immediately noted Cheryl Fernandez with the group. She looked confident and completely at ease. She didn’t look controlled at all. That was bad. If she was controlled, this man was good. Until proven otherwise, he would assume Jordan M. Williams simply amended people’s affiliations without affecting their abilities by the power of his brain alone. So they wouldn’t be able to detect if one of his was controlled until it was too late.

He walked through the main entrance as bold as brass with his entourage. He saw and heard Jordan M. Williams walk up to the receptionist and ask where the Mike Ferguson, the SEO, was. His voice was distorted deliberately to obviate, or at least mitigate, any effects his voice might have. But he was understandable. The receptionist didn’t miss a beat—she just told him Mr. Ferguson was in his office and how to find it. Jordan gave her his cell number and told her to call him if anything untoward happened. Then he told her to forget they were there and get on with her work. She accepted this with equanimity.

The entourage walked to the Mr. Ferguson’s office and walked in, interrupting him while he was perusing a file. He didn’t have a chance. When he looked up he was hooked. Dr. Martinez made an immediate assumption: this man needed his victims to see him before he could use his abilities.

Dr. Martinez kept his finger near the button, trying to work out how much danger they were all in here. He had prepared as best he could. Now he would see. Jordan M. Williams didn’t seem to be able to detect the cameras recording his every move, recordings which went, via a circuitous route, onto his PC and which also went elsewhere, for the rest of the group.

The conversation was boring, mainly Jordan asking questions about the business, especially, that little bespoke business Dr. Martinez had left behind. Mike Ferguson answered everything fully without hesitation, without even an effort to stop himself. This wasn’t good.

“Now what do you know about Kridstofer E. Martinez,” asked Jordan. The SEO answered giving the history that Mr. Martinex had died.

“Did you suspect him of anything?” Asked Jordan.

“No, nothing. What exactly are we talking about?” answered the SEO. Dr. Martinez noted that as significant. The SEO could ask questions to clarify his understanding and to be able to answer the question to the best of his ability.

“Cheryl here has a theory,” Jordan answered.

Dr. Martinez knew Cheryl was smart but he didn’t know what she really knew or had deduced. She might be more dangerous than he thought. His finger hovered over the button. He desperately wanted to press it, but he also wanted as much information as possible. He had deduced Jordan was the only Mind controller against him. That was logical, they were very rare after all, but it wasn’t impossible. And that deduction conformed to the group’s assessment of Jordan M. Williams. This man didn’t use much extra energy in capturing and controlling his thralls. He must flip something over in their heads and he needn’t do anything else after that. Some Mind controllers had to constantly use energy controlling another’s mind, which showed in their faces and in their fatigue levels. Also they had to lock up their thralls when the controller was asleep. Jordan M. Williams wasn’t one of those, which was, after all as they suspected all along.

Dr. Martinez chastised himself for wishful thinking.

Cheryl Fernandez started explaining what she suspected about Dr. Martinez, how his death was suspicious and he wasn’t really dead, but was using that fact for something else. He stopped watching there after she said they had leads on Dr. Martinez’s whereabouts after his supposed death, because there was more movement in the car park. Another car had arrived and he recognized the occupants as they emerged. It was the three Parisian girls. This was not according to plan. Dr. Martinez didn’t know what to do now. Cheryl’s theories were being recorded, consequently that group was all in one place, so Dr. Martinez focused most of his attention on the new arrivals.

He was thrown a bit at one of the girls. He first saw her opening the ambulance and then he immediately noticed her tits, which were so large, they were nearly freakish. Not now though. They were largish but well in the normal range. That improved her looks a thousand fold as far as he was concerned. Because of the time between the events, he deduced she was using artificial tits the first time he saw her. And that begged the question—why? And how? They had analyzed the recording and had deduced they were real but probably artificially enhanced.

His new enemies looked around and had a quick discussion. Then two of them, the Ninja and the Goth, now ex-Goth, approached the building while the Slut returned to the car and stayed there. He tried to get a better view, but under lockdown, he didn’t have access to the camera drones he wanted, so he had to watch what he could patiently.

He switched his attention to the reception area and watched the two girls enter. But they had only taken a step inside when the Ninja twisted her face in a very peculiar way and then ran out again, dragging the Goth with her. Dr. Martinez was amazed. What had spooked her? Intuitively he immediately pressed the button.

Later he testified to the board he wanted to get the two Parisians as he assessed them to be the far greater threat. He stated he was very afraid of them. They fitted into no known category and he was certain the rest of the Franchise would agree with him. The girl in the car could have been taken by one of his teams on their way at that moment, alerted by the bomb’s activation.

He was too late. The two survived despite being blown off their feet. The Ninja carried the Goth back to the car which sped away as soon as they were in. Dr. Martinez couldn’t explain the fact that the UTH team on their way to the building swore blind they never saw that car, despite their car cams showing it plainly along with the Goth and the Ninja staring at them. The slut was driving and ignored them. These were trained operators and were believed. However, they were all sent to the labs to check their brains for anomalies.

Dr. Martinez discovered later that he had not accounted for the signal’s delay in setting off the bombs that blew up the building. Delays caused by the destruction signal’s nefarious rerouting and built in delays for security. That gave the two Parisians an additional couple of seconds to get away from the blast.

Dr. Martinez was tired. He had been debriefed and had an in-depth discussion with the elite of the Franchise. He now knew how those Parisians had gotten there. It was the Franchise that supplied him with the information he was lacking because of the lockdown. The only way their information made sense was that the Parisians had analyzed local news from all over the US, or they analyzed a sample and got lucky. In any event, through statistical analysis of missing people and some sort of analysis of each missing person story they had homed in on one new company near Detroit called Detroit Damsels. Dr. Martinez had never heard of them. The Franchise had done a lot of work in a short time and discovered it was already being watched by their Detroit office, who were specifically looking for the footprints Dr. Martinez predicted after studying the Propofol Gang and tracking back once a hit had been established.

Detroit Damsels were set up and run by Alice Hogarth, an ex-employee of Dr. Martinez’ old company. They didn’t know how she left and assumed she faked her own death. At any rate, she quickly set up her own business successfully using the Propofol techniques, and they didn’t know where she learned about them.

Once The Parisians had taken over, they quickly homed in on Business graduate Employers, where Alice Hogarth had originated, then made a visit.

The Franchise was alarmed at the speed The Parisians moved. Apparently they were savvy enough to set up a, presumably, digital search then applying some sort of algorithm to the results to highlight possible Mind Control firms. That must have taken time, but once there, earlier yesterday, they homed in on the data they needed and immediately went there. They must be very confident in their abilities and were to be considered extremely dangerous. So dangerous that The Franchise had now banned any sort of Propofol activities from their business in the hope that The Parisians would find them and provide the Franchise with an opportunity of learning how those Parisians operated. Consequently, increased surveillance of The Propofol gang and their competitors had already been approved and was being instigated at that very moment.

“Now while our brave contestants are recovering and getting cleaned up for the next round,” Alicia thought the compere was hyping it up too much, but the crowd seemed to lap it up, “we have something new for your delectation.” The audience verbally abused Georgia for using such a word. “Alright,” smiled Georgia, “for your enjoyment then,” she amended to whoops from the audience. This is a game we call ‘The Alternative Auction’.” She announced as a large oblong box descended from the roof space to the ground. The walls and roof were totally transparent and the watchers could plainly see two young naked women inside it. The ubiquitous screens around the place all showed various shots of the interior. “These new contestants were brought to us by The 42 Club as a donation to our efforts tonight because the 42 Club found them to be thieves who attempted to steal a large amount of money from their coffers.” The crowd roared their approval and the representatives of The 42 Club, at Georgia’s request, rose and bowed to the audience.

“Now, as we are an honorable organization and with the knowledge and approval of The 42 Club, we have checked the veracity,” the crowd booed this word, “OK then, the truthfulness of the claims against the two donations. And we found them to be accurate. Consequently we are happy to accept this donation to our cause.” The audience roared more approval. “And we have decided to include them in our little entertainment tonight.” Again the crowd roared its approval.

By their reactions the contestants could clearly see and hear everything that was being said.

Now this is an auction, but an auction like no other you have seen. You see, these contestants, who understand English perfectly well, will be presented with a task or outcome and they will bid on it. They have each been awarded 100 credits to use for their bids. The winner of this auction gets the choice of who does the task or receives the outcome. But be careful girls,” Georgia had now turned and was addressing the contestants directly, “you may want your credits for the later rounds.”

“We’ll start now shall we,” Georgia said redundantly, here is your first auction. It’s very simple girls. Your names are hard for us to pronounce so you’ll give yourselves new ones. More appropriate ones. On the screen you will see a number of names for each of you. The winner chooses the name for herself and her competitor from the new list that will come up. Bids are to be placed after the starting hooter. No bids means we will choose your names. Now while we don’t have the time to tattoo your new names on, we do have the time and the means of branding your new names on. So anyone not bidding will get two brands, one fore and one aft, of her new name. Twenty seconds maximum for each bid.” She hooted the hooter and the potential names came up before them—

Lerke immediately bid 1 credit while Mie looked on wondering what to do. A clock had appeared on the hooter and was counting down the 20 seconds Mie had to bid. Mie bid 2 credits at 2 seconds, which got the crowd started early and the clock immediately reset and counting down again. With the crowd chanting various names the contestants bid each other up to 21 credits where Lerke seemed to stop.

“Is Lerke learning?” asked Georgia. “Is she saving credits up for the later bids?” Georgia announced as the clock clicked down to Mie’s win.

The crowd immediately cheered. They were pumped. Alicia was starting to wonder how much they’d drunk, or taken. No matter. Alicia was still enjoying herself, despite not joining in with the excesses of the crowd’s plebian reactions. Another counter suddenly appeared in the room—

“Now, what name do you choose for yourself Mie?” announced Georgia. Mie looked again at the options and chose Airstrip. “Very well,” Georgia said as a smallish box rose into the room. Merke, pick out the appropriate stencil and the paint can and spray on Airstrip’s name so we can all remember what it is.” Mie had to stand while Lerke affixed the stencils then spray painted Airstrip in large lettering on her stomach and on her lower back.

“Now Airstrip, you must choose Lerke’s new name from her list. Airstrip looked again at the list and gasped. Her options were now

Hairy Cunt/Mother Fucker/Anal Bandit/Ass Licker.

Airstrip hesitated and the countdown clock started its 20 second countdown. “You have 20 seconds Airstrip,” said Georgie in her sickly sweet, nicey nice voice. Airstrip chose Hairy Cunt and sprayed it on fore and aft as per instructions while Hairy Cunt glared at her. And on instructions from Georgia, the two girls walked round their box with their hands in the air, displaying their new names to all.

The counter changed to—

And now for our second Alternative Auction Georgia shouted to the crowd. A large person sized machine slowly rose in the box. “Contestants, this is a spanking machine. The loser will receive 5 minutes of automatic spanking after being locked in by the winner. You have 20 seconds from the hooter to make your first bid and 20 seconds from your opponent bidding to bid yourself. No bids by any competitor means you both will receive 10 minutes of spanking. And remember to hoard your credits for later girls,” she added with a sparkle in her voice as she sounded the hooter. “There will be penalties for non-compliance with any of the rules and you will still have to undergo your assignments.”

A counter appeared counting down the 20 seconds with a loud tic, tic, tic… The girls looked at each other with apprehension. Hairy Cunt broke first with a bid of 5 credits. Airstrip responded immediately with 6. The auction was fast to 13 credits where Airstrip seemed to reconsider. ‘She’s probably wondering what’s to come later,’ thought Alicia. ‘I know I am’. Airstrip didn’t bid leaving Hairy Cunt the winner. The credit counter changed to

Georgia talked Hairy Cunt through strapping Airstrip in after she mounted the machine. Then Hairy Cunt set the timer and pressed the on button. The machine started smacking each cheek alternatively. After about 30 seconds, the rhythm changed to something more irregular. Georgia announced to the crowd that was to ensure Airstrip didn’t build up enough dopamine in her system to nullify the effects of the smacks. It appeared to work as Airstrip’s face started to contort and she visibly tried to shift position and squirm away. But to no avail. The machine was merciless and tears started to leak from her eyes while she involuntarily uttered grunts and squeals, raising in crescendo with time. Those tears turned quickly into a flood and she was in a very bad way at the finish. Her ass was visibly bright red. Alicia was wondering whether or not it glowed. On instructions, Hairy Cunt released Airstrip from the machine and she stood, tears streaming down her face with her hands covering her ass as the machine lowered itself back to the bowels of the stage. “Let’s hear it for brave Airstrip” shouted Georgia as the crowd erupted again. ‘The audience were having a fabulous time,’ thought Alicia.

Staying with Airstrip and Hairy Cunt, Georgia announced….

“This game, girls, is called ‘It’s Like Pulling Teeth’. The loser plays while the winner watches. No bids means you both play at double the rate. She sounded the hooter and the countdown clock started its 20 second trip. The girls looked at each other wondering what the game was exactly. Hairy Cunt bid 1 credit as the clock reached 6 secs. Airstrip looked bemused and the crowd screamed their advice. The sound seemed to discommode her and she was obviously trying to think, to work out what she was bidding on, but she was fighting a losing battle. She bid 2 credits at 19 secs. Hairy Cunt immediately went to 3. The bidding war went on this way until Airstrip won at 24 credits.

“Congratulations Airstrip,” shouted Georgia over the crowd’s roars. The second screen now showed

As Georgia was congratulating Airstrip, another machine rose into their space. This was like a metal armchair.

“Get in the chair Hairy Cunt,” ordered Georgia. Hairy Cunt sat down in it warily. The chair seemed to recognize when she was in position because it clamped her in as soon as she leaned back. Well, that’s what it looked like to Alicia. The round metal ball mounted on the back of the back rest now pivoted around positioning itself over her head. Next the top section of the back rest pivoted taking the metal helmet, complete with Hairy Cunt’s head, with it. This opened Hairy Cunt’s mouth, whereupon some sort of rod was inserted automatically into her mouth and was pulled back forcing her into a smile and also forcing her mouth open. More clamps were automatically positioned over her teeth at various strategic positions, clamping her mouth open and immovable. Then a drawer opened from the side of the armrest.

“Remove the item from the drawer Airstrip,” ordered Georgia. Airstrip obeyed slowly. “What you have in your hands, Airstrip, is a set of extraction forceps. They are a specific instrument used for pulling teeth. You Airstrip, are going to pull one of Hairy Cunt’s upper front teeth. The exact one is yours to choose. If you don’t do it, one of our employees will. Then he will extract five of yours as an encore. So start moving now Airstrip. The audience are waiting and we don’t have all day.

Airstrip was jerked forward by Georgia’s tone and she found herself standing in front of Hairy Cunt, who stared at her pleadingly, making what noises she could through her mouth clamps.

“Hold it the other way round, Airstrip,” Georgia prompted. “Now move forward and place the forceps fully over your chosen tooth. Airstrip did so with a frightened look in her eyes. “Now, use your full strength, move the tooth back and forward repeatedly.” Airstrip did so with tears in her eyes which increased when Hairy Cunt’s sounds came at her like some sort of weapon. Then Georgia said, “Good Girl Airstrip. Now shift your position so you can pull it out, then pull it out.” Airstrip did so as fast as possible, wanting to get this over with. The tooth came out. A close up of Hairy Cunt’s face contorted in pain and fear was immediately on the screens.

“Well done Airstrip.” You did just great there. You are a champion. I’m sure Hairy Cunt doesn’t bear you any ill will. After all, you were just obeying orders, weren’t you? It’s not as if you—chose—to pull out her tooth without even anesthetic isn’t it? Crouch down so your head’s next to Hairy Cunt’s and hold the forceps up with the tooth still in. Move around so we can get it all in—smile girl, you won—there—that’s ideal.” Immediately that picture was shown on some of the massive screens around the place. It showed a close-up of Airstrip’s head complete with artificial smile and the bloody tooth still in the forceps juxtaposed with Hairy Cunt’s still anguished, bloodied and clamped face.

The room rose back into the heights. Alicia wondered exactly what they did up there where no-one was looking. She was never to find out.

“The next competition is The Lap Dance,” she announced. “It’s a very simple game girls,” she said. “All you have to do is a lap dance in front of each judge in turn. You are not allowed to touch any judge. Your order is in accordance with your scores so far, lowest score first. Each judge has ten single dollar bills for each competitor and he will pay you what he thinks your performance is worth. Once a judge has paid you, move on to the next, then the next until there are no more judges left. Then, with your earnings, push open the doors of the holding pen, enter and wait for all your colleagues to finish. The one with the most money wins. Simple,” she smiled.

Alicia immediately saw a loophole that would benefit Kylie. She wondered if Kylie would see it as she checked the odds, which were still not good enough.

The music blared and the first girl started. Alicia knew Kylie was fourth and Pat first at the moment but Pat was looking very much the worse for wear. She seemed on edge and it appeared that she wasn’t able to throw herself into the games wholeheartedly. Alicia worried for her friend. This was no way to get anywhere in life, but what can you do? Unfortunately Pat’s face was obvious to all, and the odds would reflect that. Alicia was very much in the swing of things now. The chit-chat from Jeffrey and Melissa was stopping whenever they saw her concentrating. Alicia like that power very much and wanted more.

They all looked about the same to Alicia. But lap dancing wasn’t her area of expertise, so what did she know? The judges obviously thought differently when they stuffed notes into the girls’ thongs. Alicia realized the girls had to unobtrusively adjust the notes to stop them falling out. She hadn’t really considered humiliation as a form of entertainment before, she was more into straight power, but ‘what’s the point of power if you can’t enjoy it?’ she thought to herself. Sonia Watkins was just a means to an end, her humiliation was an optional extra and the buzz she got from that visit, once Sonia was defeated, wasn’t nearly as good as watching these girls try and stay free. She was just feeling her way then but that unfamiliarity with the process was now behind her.

She now knew there would be more such diversions in her future, starting with her near future. The competition finished when she was still planning how to include such divertissements into her life from now on. When she looked up, the last girl was entering the holding pen with a big triumphant smile on her face. Kylie and Pat didn’t look happy at all. Well, that wasn’t surprising she thought. After all, they probably had never been in a lap dancing club in their lives. The other competitors were older than they were and it looked like age and experience counted more than youth and energy for lap dancing. ‘Who’d have thought it?’ she thought.

There was a scuffle in the holding pen, they were crammed up tight in there and it was difficult to actually see what was happening, but one girl went down, clutching her belly. ‘Looks like Kylie’s seen it,’ she thought happily. After all, both Kylie and Pat were her friends and she wanted them to do well. Once all the dollars were counted, the girl that went down was last with no dollars at all. She was indignant and complained and shouted and demanded just like a rich American, but to no avail. The rules were the rules. She was last so Mary J Hitchcock was sold.

Mary Hitchcock went to The Luv R Ranch for the lowest figure of the night so far, $2,000. Alicia noted this and looked at the notes for the girl. She was unimpressive and hadn’t seemed to excel at anything. She had an unimpressive degree and was not athletic. Alicia assumed she must diet rigorously by her naked form, but that wasn’t enough, apparently, to attract the high payers. She had proved herself not to be much of a fighter as well, so Alicia wondered exactly what The Luv R wanted her for. It almost made sense, but not quite. Surely Brothels Anonymous should want her, but apparently not. She was annoyed at herself when she saw it. She really should have seen it earlier. This girl was an addict and fairly far gone as well. Alicia assumed the sponsors all had time to peruse all the lots’ statistics earlier. If Alicia was in charge she would immediately put Mary Hitchcock into a fight to the death. It would provide the entertainment she was there for and nullify any of the downsides of having a massive druggie there. Alicia assumed the Luv R would do something similar.