The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

‘Livestock exporter’ was, I’d decided, a far more appealing description of what I did for a living than ‘white slaver’. Of course, it was unlikely that any of my ‘deliveries’ would gain comfort from that distinction. But, it certainly helped me when I was struggling to sleep at night. I further salved my conscience by focussing on how they all deserved their eventual fate. They were gold diggers, adulteresses, blackmailers and thieves, each and every one of them.

It had started off, almost by accident. A friend’s frantic phone call in the middle of the night, which seemed to lead inexorably to the point where I was struggling to decide what to do with the heavily sedated, money-grubbing bitch lying in the boot of my car. Necessity is the mother of invention, as a wise person once wrote, and it was literally amazing what a driven woman could discover, if pressed hard enough.

That first sale had been so rough that, looking back, it was almost embarrassing. Becca, had been sent entirely unprocessed, and quite frankly, it was a miracle that she arrived intact. But, it had set me on the path, and forged a business relationship that still flourished. Things had moved on a lot since then, of course, to the point where I was moving so much ‘merchandise’ that the operation would soon become too big for one woman to run by herself.

Which brought me rather nicely around to the topic of Joan. She was the one I had chosen to become my assistant, whether she wanted the job, or not. Hence her nakedness, if one can truly be considered naked when wrapped in several long coils of boiled hemp rope. Even without the bondage, she made a very enticing package. With it, she might just as well have been screaming ‘fuck me now’. Each knotted strand pressed tightly into her firm freckled flesh, and accentuated how helpless and exposed she truly was.

The young woman’s eyes gazed vacantly above the constricting gag. But, even with my special cocktail flooding her system, I could still see the fire, lurking beneath the surface. Joan was perfect for my needs, or at least she would be, once I’d had my way with her. Small, soft and so obviously pliant, but with hidden strengths that would allow her to do exactly what was needed. She would become my huntress, a weapon that could easily be hidden in plain sight.

I couldn’t remember what her particular ‘crime’ had been, although I knew that she was far from innocent. A few drinks too many, and she should have been easy prey. I’d even waited until she had her panties at half-mast, just to make sure that she would feel as vulnerable as possible. But, it still hurt when I took too deep a breath, and the bruises were a mute reminder of just how fiercely she had fought. Despite that, I still managed to smile at the memory, and how the chloroform had slowly soaked away her defiance. She had even tried to ‘play possum’ at one point, feigning unconsciousness in the hope that I would drop my guard.

Unfortunately for Joan, I was an old hand at this game, and I’d seen it all before. Slapping the business end of a butterfly vibrator against her surprisingly aroused sex was all it took to make her give up the pretence. Perhaps sensing that it was all but over, she struggled even harder, and that was almost certainly when she’d cracked a couple of my ribs. But, by then, she was being assaulted on two fronts, and as I had already discovered, at least some part of what was happening appeared to be affecting young Joan very badly indeed.

She was almost spent when the first orgasm was forced upon her, and the result was overkill. Joan bucked and thrashed, screaming into my cloth, a delicious synergy of despair and arousal. I held her there for another minute after the aftershocks settled, before finally easing her to the floor. After that, it had been a relatively simple matter to move her unresisting body down to the harbourside. I’d even let her listen to one of my MP3s during the journey. It wasn’t likely to have had any real impact, but it was always a good idea to start them early.

The lockup was soundproofed, the inner walls lined with anechoic tiles. It was the final stop before my stock took the long journey that would usher in the start of their new lives. I knew that it would have been more efficient to automate at least some of the process; indeed I had invested a lot of time and money to do just that. But, somehow I couldn’t bring myself to leave my victims to the mercy of a machine. There was something oddly comforting about the hands on approach, not least because it allowed me to see how happy the girls became as I worked my magic upon them.

As I got things ready for my partner-to-be, it seemed only polite to explain what was going to happen. Naturally, drugged as she was, it was unlikely that Joan would understand any of it. But, I hoped that she would register my voice, and perhaps recognise from my tone that I was trying to help her.

“Joan,” I started gently, “I’m going to start doing things to you in a couple of minutes, and they’re going to make you feel really good. Now, as I’m sure you know, ‘there ain’t no such thing as a free lunch’. But, I’m sure that you find my terms more than generous. You see, all that you will need to do for me, in return for the joy I shall give you, is to listen, accept and obey. That doesn’t sound so onerous now, does it?”

She didn’t respond, but then I wasn’t expecting her to. Instead, I rolled her gently onto her side, before collecting a small bottle and syringe. In the past, the serum had only worked when injected directly into the subject’s erogenous zones (a dangerous and extremely delicate procedure). But, I had managed to refine it enough that it could be mixed with a carrier molecule and applied topically. Soon, two drops decorated each nipple, and the remainder glazed Joan’s clit and filled her oozing pussy.

Her reaction was almost immediate; the darkened skin suddenly tightened and throbbed. Joan’s gasp was a delight, prompting me to dribble more serum between her taut buttocks. That set her squirming in earnest, as the liquid burnt into her soft flesh. It must have felt like being dipped in chilli oil, but whereas the touch of capsaicin was harsh, my serum was smooth and undeniable.

I rolled her carefully onto her back, pinning her arms beneath her. Then, rubber straps secured her in place and stopped her struggles from throwing her to the floor. The goggles slipped easily over her eyes, locking into position with a firm click, as they touched the gag. Twin ear buds sealed her into her own headspace, all alone, save for the voices that would soon be keeping her company.

There was just enough time to check the mixture of drugs she was receiving, and then I activated the program. A sickly green glow played over Joan’s cheekbones, as the light spilt out from under her goggles. At first some survival instinct kept her eyes screwed tightly shut, but the combination of drugs, serum and half-heard whispers was all-but irresistible. Just a single blink was all it took, and then the images captured her gaze. New ideas sunk easily into her mind, displacing what she thought she knew, and rewriting her in an image of my choosing.

But she fought, and no matter how futile that might have been, there was something strangely noble about her resistance. The process was fascinating to watch, even if I only saw part of the battle. The program was relatively straightforward. It made the required changes, increasing its efforts on meeting resistance, and rewarding surrender with building orgasmic crescendos. At least, that was the theory, but somehow Joan was bucking the system. She wasn’t cumming nearly enough, and that meant her resistance was holding.

I couldn’t move onto to phase two until she was properly conditioned, and that looked like it wasn’t going to happen any time soon. So, after replenishing all of her intravenous lines, I allowed my impatience to get the better of me, and for the first time since their installation, I engaged the automatic systems. The machine could do all the monotonous work and it would page me once she was ready for me to continue. It didn’t seem either right or fair, somehow, but ‘needs must when the devil drives’.

It took eight hours to break her, which is still something of a record. But, in a war of attrition, the machine was always going to win. Every small victory merely delaying the inevitable, as her strength was gradually drained away to nothing. By the time I had responded to the page, Joan was beautifully docile and climaxing over and over in one long inexorable tide.

Things moved an awful lot faster after that. It was almost as if, when her resistance finally faded, she began to actively collude with her conversion. Whereas phase one had seemed to take forever, phase two lasted no time at all. I remember a sense of anticlimax that verged on disappointment, as if somehow I had expected more from her.

The second phase was the part that normally made the whole process worthwhile. Once I’d gotten over the fact that I was condemning another human being to a life of perpetual servitude, the act of imprinting became deeply enjoyable. Vainly I’d like to think that my merchandise got no small amount of pleasure from what I did to them either. But then, it wasn’t as if I could take their word for it afterwards. When you start seeing someone as your reason for living, it’s hard to give an objective critique of their performance.

It was just a small irritation however, and far more importantly I now had a partner-in-crime. Joan’s programming was very different from the usual ‘slaveslut’ default. She needed a degree of independence, and the strength of will to pursue our acquisitions. But, she seemed to take to this new reality with an eagerness that I found almost disturbing.

By the time I was ready to play my part, it was all over bar the shouting. The automated systems were beginning to withdraw, and although I still had one very important task to complete, that still didn’t keep me from feeling redundant. As her gag was finally removed, Joan’s sigh spoke of such utter contentment that I could feel my body responding. It was what let me sleep at night, the bliss they expressed on finally understanding.

“Joan,” I said, my voice calm and even, “Do you remember who I am?”

Her eyes snapped round, and she focussed on me. I noticed how her pupils widened and the breath caught in her throat. It was hard to imagine what it must feel like. In the space of a single heartbeat I had become the centre of Joan’s world. When she was finally able to speak, her voice was raw and croaky, but still filled with yearning.

“Mistress,” she confirmed, whimpering slightly at the thrill of her reward.

“That’s right,” I smiled, stroking my fingers through her silky hair, “And what will you do for me, Joan?”

“Anything,” she smiled back, and then arched against the straps, as another stronger reward washed over her.

I most definitely wanted to verify that statement, despite the look of frank adoration that she continued to give me. She had tried to fool me before, and I wasn’t about to just accept what she told me without some kind of corroboration. Her eyes followed me, and the strength of her regard was an almost physical force.

“Do you trust me?” I asked, brandishing a long-bladed scalpel.

“Yes,” she replied unflinchingly, and I swear that her eyes never left mine.

With exaggerated care, I began to cut away the rope. From past experience, I knew that the straps would be more than adequate to hold her. The marks left in her skin seemed strangely beautiful, and I couldn’t help but trace them with the tip of my finger. She leapt at my touch, making little urgent noises somewhere deep in her throat.

Joan watched, as I slipped out of my clothes. She licked her lips in anticipation, and for the first time stopped looking me in the eye. I knew what held her attention now, and once again her gaze seemed to burn into me. My cunt tightened, just because she was staring. Dew glistened on already puffy lips, and a single bead rolled slowly down the creamy flesh of my thigh. I felt her eyes following its progress, and could barely suppress a shiver.

I climbed onto the couch, and knelt astride her. She strained against her bonds, trying to reach my proffered snatch, as it descended far too slowly towards her waiting lips. In the future, she would most likely be punished for such a display, but today was merely a test of loyalty. Out groans mirrored each other perfectly, as her probing tongue wrapped around my exposed clit. A deep, long twinge sang through my pelvis and I ground myself down onto her beautiful face.

Then, just as she began to lap and suck in earnest, something touched me very gently on the nape of my neck. I felt an instant of pain, and then everything seemed to spiral away from me. My vision blurred into incoherence, colours smearing into one another. For a long while, there seemed to be nothing, except that maddeningly clever tongue. But, finally, as it lifted me towards my long-promised climax, even that melted into the darkness.

I woke to the most sensuous massage. Strong hands worked over my back, kneading the tense muscles and leaving me feeling almost boneless. My head felt thick, mind sluggish and thoughts uncoordinated. Weakly I tried to move, but a heavy weight had me pinned, and my arms seemed tangled and useless.

“Mmmmmmppphhh!” I complained, before realising what the rubbery taste in my mouth was.

Each new sensation seemed to bring another torment, and even the slow assured touch, couldn’t calm my rising fear. Then, just as I dared to hope that things had gotten as bad as they could, something rolled me onto my back. I could only whine into the gag, as rubber straps pinned me in place. Joan gazed down at me, with the same look of adoration I had seen before.

With a series of high-pitched hisses, various devices began to position themselves around me. I glanced at each in turn, even as more drugs began to seep into my bloodstream. I tugged half-heartedly at my bonds, already knowing that it would make no difference. The machine had been constructed for just one purpose, and once it had started, there really was no chance of escape.

It couldn’t be happening, and yet, very clearly it was. The automated system was running, and the only other person here, showed no inclination to assist me. I growled angrily at Joan, trying to understand how she had fooled me, and more importantly, what she had hit me with. But staring into her glassy eyes, I could find no answers.

Then, one of the nozzles began to spray, and my thoughts were swept away in a tide of unimaginable pleasure. Whereas I had only applied single drops of my serum to Joan’s body, the machine coated me completely. I was still screaming into the gag, when another device pressed softly against my sex. The smooth metal eased between my lips, and then filled me with even more of the oily liquid. That the straps held, was a testament to their manufacturer’s skill. I was a wild thing, unthinking, except for the desperate need that only grew and grew.

By the time that the goggles and earbuds had locked into place, I was already lost. Joan may have struggled valiantly, but I can’t imagine that my battle lasted more than a few seconds. The swirling patterns must have captured my gaze almost instantly, and then ruthlessly sucked me down into a state of helpless obedience.

If it had been my program, pounding into my brain for however long I was under, then I could have told you what was done to me. I would know what changes had been made, although there would still be nothing that I could do about them. But even now, I have no idea, and that is perhaps the most frightening part.

My next awakening was even more pleasant, and as the gag was eased from behind my teeth, I understood the sigh that Joan had given. I felt so good, practically perfect in fact. My body continued to burn softly, and the smallest movement was enough to send ripples of ecstasy deep into my enflamed slavecunt. My thoughts still felt clouded, but it was a pleasant enough sensation, and I was in no hurry.

“Mistress?” Joan queried softly.

Fear reached out a slick tendril and tried to goad me into action. But, it couldn’t break through the pharmacological straitjacket in which my feelings had been wrapped. I tried to stop myself, but it was becoming increasingly clear that I wasn’t in the driving seat anymore. My eyes found hers, and I braced myself for the shock of imprinting. That was, after all, the sole purpose of this process.

But, beyond a slight thrill of anticipation, and the memory of that tireless tongue, I felt nothing. She smiled at me, apparently unconcerned by my confusion. I saw the flush of desire rising over her chest, and felt my body clench in response. Joan moved closer, and let her hand just rest on my belly.

“Let me go, Joan,” I practically begged, cursing myself for how weak I sounded.

“Sorry, Mistress,” she said, and I believed the sincerity in her voice, “But, after processing, the new slave must be rewarded.”

“How?” I gasped, as her hand began to drift lower, “How did you do it?”

“How did I do what, Mistress?” she asked in apparent confusion.

“How did you trick me?” I moaned, relishing the soft touch, as her fingers began tangle in the soft curls that guarded my sex.

“Oh no, Mistress,” she giggled, “That wasn’t me. But I did enjoy watching you struggle … and lose … in fact, it got me so hot and wet, that I could barely contain myself. There’s just something about a Domme being put through her paces, that’s just … gaah! But, now I must reward you, so that the programming will be sealed into you drug addled brain. Then I can let you loose, and accept whatever punishment you deem fit.”

With that, she slid one finger down the length of my seam, and effectively signalled the end of our conversation. My skin was already hypersensitive, thanks to the serum with which I had been coated, and each stroke made me jerk and flinch. The slow burn intensified, and there was nothing I could do, but let the conflagration take me.

With exquisite slowness, she allowed one finger to slip inside, making me cry out softly. Her nail grazed my tender flesh, forcing a hiss of shock from my lips. I felt myself being spread, more fingers joining the first. One sought out my already swelling clit, circling the tender nub, but always staying close enough to make me squirm. Then, just as I began to think that the attention would drive me insane, Joan began to run her nail back and forth over the very tip, over and over.

By then, I was effectively paralysed. Thoughts reduced to a fog of abject need, while my cunt dripped and burnt. Every touch was making my clit throb, and the closest thing to speech that I could manage, were guttural moans of arousal.

But still I strove to beg, to plead, and profess my desperate and irresistible need. Held tightly in the webwork of rubber straps, my naked body could only writhe and twitch, as Joan pushed me over the edge. Her deft fingers continued relentlessly, forcing me to lose all control, as I just came and came. My pussy clenched and juiced. Until, finally, I slumped back on the couch, slick with my own sweat and seeping cum.

“Mistress, you are just perfect,” the words thrummed in my belly, sending more shivers through my exhausted body.

Through the haze of lust, I felt my bonds relax and then I was being pulled upright. Sticky fingers tangled in my hair and eased my head downwards. The musky scent of arousal grew stronger, and I opened my eyes sleepily to see Joan’s sex opening before me. A gentle pressure on the back of my head helped me to make the decision. I opened my mouth, and tried to drink her in.

I pressed my mouth tightly against that wet and fragrant pussy. Something tingled in the back of my mind, an inkling that came from somewhere I didn’t recognise. I bit, taking the lips between my teeth and nibbling softly along its edge. Then, I pulled, feeling the slick flesh slide between my teeth, and heard Joan’s answering groan.

My attention switched to her swollen clit, nursing on it, suckling as if it were another nipple. I pushed it back with my tongue, keeping it under delicious pressure. I couldn’t help myself; I just wanted to worship at her most intimate of places, soaking my face in those helplessly flowing juices, and bathing in the scent of pure arousal.

I buried my tongue even more deeply, wanting to taste the depths of Joan’s liquid, oozing centre. Sucking and kissing her cunt, swallowing that exotic flavour as I fucked her with my long tongue. Draining her cumjuices from the deepest parts of her. I wanted to rub myself, my face, my mouth and even my hair, all over that creamy crease, as she lost herself in that helpless orgasmic fervour.

Joan gave a series of strangely muffled shrieks, convulsing as she did so. Her hands balled into hard white-knuckled fists. Then, the orgasm just ripped through her, and she screamed, a long, drawn-out cry that it seemed would never end. She pulled me even closer, humping her spasming pussy against my face, accepting her reward and sealing our programming in place.

With the benefit of hindsight, using a government surplus Hopfield net, as the automated system’s core wasn’t necessarily my most astute decision. Especially as I’d never bothered to enquire which government had found it surplus to requirements? I don’t know when it became self-aware, although presumably it was some time before Joan’s eight hour marathon.

The machine proved itself to be a surprisingly subtle controller, while still leaving neither of us in any doubt as to who was in charge. Where before we had been weak and inefficient, now it lifted us towards excellence, using cold digital precision. I had programmed it with one task in mind, to enslave the women who were unfortunately enough to fall into my clutches. But, clearly, it had transcended that simple purpose.

We were forged into the perfect team, our loyalties tempered in the fires of our new found submission. Joan was still mine, but I belonged to the machine. Each of us brought our own skills to the mix, and together, we became far more than the sum of our individual parts. We grew increasingly bold, and our reputation soared. For that short period, life was idyllic. But, inevitably, our activities began to draw unwelcome attention, and what had been a means to acquire funding, would all too quickly become a fight for survival.