The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Colette looked out the window as the car pulled to a stop. Well, at least they were rich, whomever they were. But then, they’d have to be, to afford to buy her like this.

She thought of trying to escape again, but with her hands handcuffed together, and to the chain from the seat in front of her, it wasn’t likely she’d even manage to get out of the police transport she was in. Especially since there weren’t any handles on the inside where prisoners could get to them.

And even if she got out, she’d have to get past the gates they’d already passed, and she didn’t have anywhere to go. And everyone who saw her would just call the police to pick her up again. Not to mention the standard escaped-prisoner manhunt.

They’d promised she’d still remember who she was. She held that thought in her head. She would still be herself. Just... modified.

The officer was returning with the man who had answered the door. Colette watched as the policeman who’d been assigned to deliver her opened the case that had been kept locked in the front seat with the key that the man produced and pulled out a hypodermic air-gun, which he pressed against the man. There was a jerk, and the man rubbed his arm as the gun pulled away from implanting the identifier beacon in his arm.

She avoided looking at the man in question. If everything went as they’d told her it would... She’d be spending a lot of time with him. The rest of her life, in fact. For now her eyes focused on the instruments of her captivity.

She still wasn’t sure if this beat a life in jail, but that hadn’t been her choice.

“...so I hope you’ve read the packet.” The policeman was saying, as he opened the door.

“Don’t worry, I read it all, over and over.”

“Good.” He reached in, and unfastened the chain from the seat in front of her. Colette was left chained as he pulled her out of the car. “Come on out, then.” He said to her.

She got out. She considered fighting, but there was no chance it would do anything but get her hurt. She’d decided she wanted to be awake, not out cold, when they fastened the device.

It had a name. A long, scientific, and jaw-cracking name, after it’s inventors. Colette just thought of it as the device.

She watched the policeman as he turned back to the case, and removed the other half of the set. It was two pieces: A collar, and another (orange-colored, this time) hypodermic gun. He inspected it, and the small sheet of instructions with them. “Option package two, eh? Nice set. Probably would be my choice, especially for a little number like this...”

She let him fasten the collar around her neck, and felt it dig in to her skin just slightly as the needles bored in. She tossed her head as he pulled her hair, but the guard didn’t care. He just placed the end of the gun at the base of her skull and fired.

Colette barely felt a thing.

“Well, I have to remind you that it will take several days for the system to fully take effect. She won’t harm you physically, or run away, in that time, but she won’t be fully adapted either.” He said, as he put the gun away, and undid her ankle chains. “There is often a period of denial, and the subjects can be quite vocal about it until their minds fully accept the programming.”

“Yes, I know.”

“I know you do, I just have to remind you.” He undid her wrists, and Colette rubbed where the cuffs had chaffed her. “Also, during the adaption/imprinting, it is important to limit her contact to other people. It’s best if she interacts with no one else but you until then. Understood?”

“Of course. It was in the packet.”

“Of course. As I said, procedure.” He pulled out a clipboard, and his voice became more formal. “Do you, Richard Robertson the Second, accept into your custody and protection Colette Wilkenson, for the rest of her term of sentence?”

“I do.”

He turned to Colette. “Colette Wilkenson, you are being released under the Collared Work Release Program, into the custody of Richard Robertson the Second to serve out the rest of your term, or until the death of your custodian.” It was that clause which Colette had focused on: If her ‘custodian’ died, she was free. The collar was irremovable, but she would never have to see a jail cell again. That was something she’d gotten fully tired of since the judge had declared ‘life, without parole.’

Still... The police officer removed the gag that had held her silent so far. ”Bastards! You treat people as just pieces of property! I may be a criminal, but I’m still a human being! This is slavery! Buying and selling of human beings, no matter what you call it!”

Colette was all set to continue, but the wink and mocking salute of the police officer as he got back into the car flabbergasted her. “Why, that insolent, obnoxious, arrogant...” She flung her words at the retreating car.

“Hush.” She felt a hand on her shoulder, as her new ‘custodian’ Richard moved up to her, and she fell silent. “I can’t say I don’t agree with you on the subject of that idiot. And, slavery it may be, but like it or not you are mine now. And, in a few days at the most, you will like it. Now, take a good look at me, and let me take a good look at you.”

Colette let herself be turned around to face the man she’d been avoiding. He was a head taller than her, with brown hair and intelligent eyes. Probably older than her mid-twenties, but how much she was unsure. Not enough to put noticeable amounts of grey in his hair; either that or he dyed it.

Her knees went a little weak at the sight of him, but that was just the chip in her head. Colette forced herself to ignore it.

He meanwhile was looking her up and down frankly. She resisted the urge to primp and pose for him. “Not bad. Come on, we’ll get you some decent clothes.” He turned and headed for the front door. Colette found herself following.

For a moment, she stopped herself, forced herself to turn to gate that had automatically closed. She managed two steps.

It wasn’t even that it was hard, or that it hurt, it just was almost impossible to summon the will to take the next step. Here was where she was supposed to be, here was safe.

She couldn’t make herself want to go there. No matter how hard she tried. It was... wrong somehow.

Colette stood, indecisive, trying to escape. “Coming?”

She turned to the voice, and put her head down. As much as she couldn’t want to run away, she still didn’t really want to enter either.

But it beat just standing there like an idiot.

She entered the house like a teenager being sent to her room, and avoided looking at the smile on her controller’s face. Once inside she turned and faced her captor: “So, what am I to do for you, Master?“

That wasn’t what she’d meant to say. “Wha...? Riii...Master. Your name is...Ri, Ma, ri, Maast” She took a breath. “What is this? Some kind of power trip for you, that I can only call you ‘Master?’”

He was grinning, obviously holding in laughter. “Yes, exactly. You called me a bastard, and your situation ‘slavery.’ The thought had occurred to me as well, but I decided I was going to enjoy it. So... It’s a minor tweak in the chip’s programming, and it takes effect immediately. Anyway, come on, let me show you around.”

The house/mansion was as impressive inside as it was out. Colette wasn’t paying much attention however; she was coming to terms with the idea of calling this man ‘Master’.

It was more than just her mouth: She couldn’t call him anything else even inside her head.

“...and here is your room.” They came to a halt. Colette ran the last bit through her head again, to realize why they’d stopped, then looked around in frank admiration.

“Woah...” The word rose unbidden.

It wasn’t that the room was so impressive, really. It was that she had a room with plush carpets, wood-paneled walls, designer furniture... She took a step inside. “It’s beautiful.”

“Glad you like it. The door over there is the closet. I’ll be downstairs in my office when you get done changing.” Richard started to go, then paused. “Feel free to look around the house some more.”

He left, shutting the door behind him, leaving Colette alone and unwatched for the first time in... she’d lost track. After her initial arrest, there had been the trial, which had taken months, and then she’d been in prison for...

Longer than she wanted to remember.

She headed to the closet. Orange jumpsuits weren’t a look she liked.

The walk-in closet was mostly empty. Just some generic shorts and t-shirts, and a couple of sun-dresses. For a moment Colette wondered if she should be offended or worried about this, but then realized everything here was picked to fit anyone. Maybe he just didn’t want to waste money on clothes that he wasn’t sure would fit.

She picked out a basic white T and a pair of shorts. They felt wonderful.

There was another door to the room. Curious she opened it.

His room.

Colette stood in the doorway for a long moment. Part of her wanted to explore Master’s domain, and a part of her remembered how seeing him made her weak in the knees, and thought that this was a promise to follow up on that feeling...

Other parts said that she didn’t want to be manipulated into someone’s bed by some computer chip. That, ‘master’ or not, she didn’t want to set the precedent of going in there.

And there was once voice that told her that this didn’t mean anything. That many personal assistants were allowed access to their master’s chambers, without being required to provide sexual favors. That she did, after all, have her own room. Her own space.

Both sides told that voice to shut up.

She eventually shut the door without going through.

Instead Colette set out in search of... No. She was not going to look for ‘Master’. She was going to look around the house.

It was a nice house, and Colette had enjoyed exploring it. She’d tried to make herself smash something, just to prove she could, and failed. Her arm just... lost interest.

It was a frustrating feeling.

As was the fact that she could no longer deny the pull to find Richard, her ‘Master’. She knew exactly where he was, that was no problem. She’d avoided him as long as she could, but...

It was the only thing she wanted to do. That was the entirety of it: the chip was controlling her desires, she knew, but it still felt real. She knew this was the chip. She knew that she should really be freaking out about what it was doing in her head, but...

She just wanted to see Richard.

She headed toward her personal lodestone.

She found him in what was obviously a home office, complete with leather-upholstered chairs for visitors and an exterior door. “Nice place you’ve got here, Master. It looks like being a sociopath is well rewarded.”

He ignored her greeting, but took a moment to look up from his papers at her. “Much better than that jumpsuit. I hope it fits well enough? I’m sorry they didn’t send your sizes on ahead; we’ll have to see about getting you some better clothes soon.”

“Why? Won’t I just be your little sex-slave or something? This is my life you are playing with, bast... Oh, goddammit.” She paused, then smiled sweetly and finished: “You are a bastard, Master.”

He sat quietly for a moment, waiting. “Are you done?”

“I’m just getting warmed up.”

“Enough. Your life was forfeit when you did whatever it was that landed you in prison. We don’t kill people in this country anymore, but by all rights we should have locked you up and thrown away the key. Otherwise you wouldn’t be in this program. This is supposed to be more humane, and you know it, and it passed the vote.”

“Even this ‘adjustment period’ is for your benefit: the chip could just as easily rewrite everything immediately, but that causes ‘extreme psychological trauma’, in the words of the literature they sent me.”

“In a day or two you will be my loyal assistant. I sent in my skill request for that, and they sent me you. You have the skills. You will have the loyalty, better than anyone I could ever hire. You will not have to spend the rest of your life in jail: you won’t even have to spend a single more day there, ever. The world agrees this is humane, no matter what you think.”

He paused, and she tried to think of something to say.

He continued before she managed. “Now, I understand that you aren’t fully happy with it. I doubt you were happy to be in jail, and I expect you wanted to get away with whatever got you in there. You will grow used to it, and to that chip in your head. In the meantime... I have work to do. You are interrupting. If you can be civil, you can stay. Otherwise, out! I have no desire to listen to this.”

He held her gaze, as Colette glared back at him.

In the end she stomped out, slamming the door behind her.

Colette sat in the hall outside Richard’s office. Her Master’s office.

She wanted in.

It was a growing desire, coming from the chip. She could feel it growing inside her, the compulsion to just get within sight of him, to hear his voice.

To go in, though, she’d have to be quiet. To ‘be civil’, and probably helpful, as he worked.

Out here she could curse him, and this program, all she wanted, and no one could hear her.

The program was a little too abstract to curse, though, and cursing the chip was unsatisfying. Cursing him, that she could do. At length and with ease.

She’d stopped when she realized she was cursing him to cover for a desire to idolize and serve him. A defense mechanism feels a bit hollow when you realize why you are using it.

It did make her worry though, about what would happen when she finally gave in, and went to face him without that defense mechanism. The chip wanted her to like him. Wanted, in fact, to make him the center of her existence.

It was a lot of work to fight the chip, and a part of Colette kept whispering that she’d like it when she stopped, so why continue?

At least, she thought that was a part of her...

She’d tried to call up the memory of her cursing him to his face, but that just brought up the memory of his reply, and of him sending her out... And the despair she’d felt.

The despair she still felt, whenever she thought that this was not how he wanted her to be acting.

Colette was starting to wonder if, when she finally did go inside, if she would find herself apologizing to him. Apologizing for not already being the submissive, loyal, slave she could feel herself turning into. Apologizing for making him throw her out of his presence.

He should apologize to her. But she couldn’t put any force behind that thought.

Colette opened her Master’s door as quietly as she could, trying not to draw attention to herself. She made as little sound as possible as she walked across to one of the chairs and sat down, gingerly.

He pretended not to notice. He didn’t even look up when he asked: “So, you’re back?”

“Yes, Master.” It was the only way she could phrase it. “I’ll be good. I won’t bother you.”

“Good.” He went back to work.

Colette felt like a girl sent to sit in the principal’s office. She wanted to fidget, but she needed to be here, and fidgeting would just get her in more trouble.

More trouble being sent ‘out’. Which really shouldn’t be a punishment, but it was.

She watched what he was doing, the way his fingers handled paper and keyboard with equal ease, the relaxed focus of his face...

Colette realized she was daydreaming about him, and forced herself to stop it.

The room was nice. Whatever it was he did, he was good at it. And the chair was comfortable. He must expect people to sit in it.

“Colette, could you get me a cola? There’s a fridge in the corner.”

She put it on his desk in front of him. “Thank you.”

“I exist to serve.” She heard herself, and winced. “Damnit. How many of those do you have stuck in my head, anyway?”

The question was quiet, and polite. She still didn’t want to get thrown out again, not just yet. And it hadn’t escaped her that she’d gotten the soda without thinking about it.

“Just a couple. They do cost extra.” He said, looking up. “And I know that you’re feeling a desire to be in my presence right now. It’s part of the ‘imprinting’ process, and it will go away when you’ve acclimated.”

“When I’m your slave, you mean.”

“Yes.”

Colette closed her eyes, and forced herself to remain civil. It wasn’t hard. Being ‘slave’ was starting to sound good to her.

“You are welcome. For the soda.” She said, and returned to her seat.

Colette lay in bed, and tried to compose herself for sleep. She also tried not to think of Richard.

The latter was a loosing battle, she knew. Most of what she wanted to go over in her head before she slept involved Richard, as most of her day had involved him. He was, after all, the only person besides that police officer she’d seen all day.

Inside her own head she admitted she couldn’t fight the chip and collar. Not for long, anyway. It didn’t matter what she did, or what she tried to make herself think: They had a direct hold on her mind, and there was no way she could stop their effects. All she could do was test their limits.

She’d spent most of the afternoon just sitting in her Master’s office. (’Richard’ was his name, ‘Master’ was who he was. She could hold the distinction, but she couldn’t call him ‘Richard.’) Occasionally he’d asked her to do something, all of which she’d eventually done. Some automatically, like that first can of cola, some by choice, and once only after a polite repeat of the request. He’d never threatened her, but then he’d never asked her to do anything beyond get him a few snacks anyway.

And she knew he could just ask her to leave anyway.

All in all, though, he’d been kind and polite. Kind of a nice guy, even. She could do worse: nice, rich, not bad to look at...

The worst part was she was no longer sure if that thought was from the chip, or if she was getting a variant of Stockholm Syndrome.

He’d never answered what her duties were going to be. ‘Assistant’ she knew, and she could probably help him with whatever it was he was doing all day. Basic office management, some accounting, presentations, client relations, all of these were things she’d done before.

But none of that explained why her knees went weak and her panties got wet at the sight of him.

Rationally, she told herself that he may not know about that. If ‘package two’ included obsessive loyalty, one way to get that would be to have her infatuated with him, so it might just be a side-effect.

She might not have been sold in to sex slavery.

Other, possibly less rational, parts of her disputed that. Said that nothing on one of these chips was going to be left to chance. And the parts that were glad of it were starting to match the volume of the parts that were abhorred.

Regardless, Colette knew that tomorrow she was unlikely to hesitate if he stuck to asking her for what he’d asked today. Doing what he wanted was getting easier, and more pleasant. Every time she uttered ‘I exist to serve’ she was feeling it, and there was no doubting that she liked that feeling.

No doubting it at all.

Colette brought in her Master’s lunch on a tray, and set it down in front of him. “Will that be all?” She asked. Her voice didn’t hold as much scorn as she might have liked. She noticed this, and spent a futile moment trying to summon up some indignation at it.

“No, that’s all for the moment. Thank you.”

“I exist to serve.” That was automatic, but Colette didn’t like how much she was beginning to mean it.

Or how much she was beginning to look forward to saying it.

At Richard’s dismissal she’d stepped back, out of his direct line of sight. After a moment she realized what she was doing, and headed for the nearest chair, relaxing on the way.

She was doing that a lot this morning.

Truth to tell, sitting wasn’t the safest thing to do either: the sun-dress she was wearing was opaque enough, and with the belt/sash wasn’t completely formless, but Colette had decided her prison-issue underwear was dirtier than she wanted to wear today, and there hadn’t been anything to replace it with. Which was fine: the dress was long enough to be decent, even sitting, but seated it didn’t actually go past her knees, and she wasn’t sure she could trust herself to keep from flashing enough for Richard to know that.

Not that she’d felt any urge to do so intentionally either.

He focused on the food until he was finished, not splitting attention like so many on his work and his food. Colette watched him eat, hating herself for hoping he was enjoying it. She was no chef, but a basic sandwich was well within her capabilities.

Finally he finished, wiping his mouth with the napkin she’d folded and placed on the tray. “Very good, thank you Colette. You may take the tray back.” She rose to her feet, taking the tray smoothly. “Oh, and Colette? Fix yourself something as well before you come back.”

“I exist to serve.” She said, with a curtsy.

Dammit.

The door closed silently, and Colette released the latch she’d held to make it so. Lunch had been quick, just another sandwich on her own, and she’d also put the dishes in the dishwasher.

She’d decided that since she couldn’t stop the daydreams, she might as well accept them. Some were fairly graphic, but they kept her from growing bored at least.

“Colette, can you tell me what you think of this?” Richard had picked up a page, and was holding it out to her. She took it, and looked it over.

It was an excerpt of an quarterly report, just the end balance sheet. Glancing up to see if Master was impatient, she took a moment to study it.

“Their debt ratio is fairly high, especially considering that most of that is going in to inventory stock from what I can tell. Depends on what they are selling, of course, but if the price dropped at all they’d be in trouble.” She considered the numbers again. “Though they are fairly small. If it’s a startup and this is a temporary thing, it could be ok. But they aren’t putting it in to infrastructure, from what I see, so it just looks like they are taking a risk.” She handed the paper back.

“Not bad,” he said, approvingly. Colette’s heart leapt a bit at the idea she’d impressed him. The thought to quash the reaction was more expected habit than anything else. “Here, take a look at these and sort them into high and low risk categories.” He handed her a short stack of papers, packets on various companies.

“I exist to serve.” She took the stack back to her chair, not even noticing her reply.

The afternoon flew by, and Colette found she was enjoying herself. She tried to summon up a sense of indignation at her situation, and while she could mouth the words, there was no real heart behind it. She was doing actual work, like a normal person, and she wasn’t in jail. She talked and joked a bit with Master, and found him fun and clever. A small part of her said that was probably the chip, but, it didn’t really matter.

She enjoyed talking to him, and helping him. Impressing him made her happy, and disappointing him... Well, the only time she’d really disappointed him was yesterday when she’d made him throw her out of his office. Knowing the effects would be stronger now, she wasn’t looking forward to the experiment.

Working with him seemed to take the edge off her attraction to him as well. When it was business, she was all business.

He’d made one offhand comment about her appearance. It had been like a trigger: She’d instantly wanted to show off for him, give him the chance to really appreciate her body.

It had gone away when he’d gone back to business a moment later, and Colette had reflected that it probably was a trigger, and an intentional one at that. Which boded well for her more explicit daydreams...

She couldn’t summon anger over that either.

Colette sat at her Master’s feet, feeding him supper while he watched TV. She fed herself as well, as chance permitted. Richard caressed her hair, hand holding her head.

His touch sent shivers.

Somehow, she moved from beside his legs to between them.

She didn’t know what was on TV. Her attention was on her Master. Working for him had made her happy, but sitting here was bringing another emotion to the surface.

And, somehow, when he turned her in, and pressed her head between his legs, it felt right.

His zipper gave her no trouble.

Dick in mouth, she reflected that the chip must be affecting her more than she thought. She wasn’t gagging, and she knew more than the last time she had done this.

The fact that yesterday she would have objected forcefully was irrelevant. She was enjoying herself now, and there was nothing else she would rather do at this moment than serve her Master.

He came down her throat, and she came, slightly, in response.

He waited until she had finished cleaning him off and pulled away before speaking to her. “So, do you understand your duties now?”

“I exist to serve, Master.”

And she meant it.