The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I wake up and the first thing to hit me is the soreness in my mouth. It hurts, but not in the typical sense. Can you even get phantom limb feelings from teeth? All I know is that I’m grateful for being numbed. No. Wait. I shouldn’t be grateful; I’ve been kidnapped goddammit!

I’m turning my head around, although it takes me minutes to barely rotate it; on top of that, the dim lighting is hindering my sight. With all of that said, I can tell that this must be some kind of basement from the lack of windows and stairs leading upwards.

My body feels heavier than ever before, and when I try to get my legs to budge, I find a chain around my ankle.

“Finally awake, I see” I turn my head; a herculean feat that alone tires me out. “Awww, don’t strain yourself. Hurting you is my job now, after all.” When did she even come down here? Has she been here this whole time!?

She kneels in front of me, one hand lifting my chin while she runs the other through my hair. It’s short, but she eventually gathers enough to grab a fistful. I can tell this should be painful, but I still can’t feel much. I can tell my mouth is hanging open by how she effortlessly moves her hand from my chin to my gums. Without my teeth in the way, she effortlessly fits her whole fist inside my gaping hole, causing a brief stinging sensation. I vaguely feel my tongue being pulled; far out of my mouth than is normally possible.

“I’m still deciding how else I want to change this tongue. Will a piercing or two be enough? Split it down the middle to the base? All of the above?” She leaves my tongue hanging out of my mouth, a mischievous look on her face. I can feel my eyes start to tear up, and this causes her to laugh. “Awww, is it finally all settling in?” She pulls my head back using my hair, then leans forward, and licks the tears off my face. “Good.” She says into my ear; briefly biting it. “You may still be learning it, but never forget your place unless you want to be brought down even lower.”

With that, she smacks me across the face hard enough to turn my head; I imagine her laugh is from how ridiculous my tongue looked being flung to the side. All my strength has evaporated in mere minutes, and I find myself falling forward onto my face. I’m starting to get used to the encroaching darkness.

I don’t know how much time has passed; I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve succumbed to my exhaustion. Before all of this, I was in fairly decent shape, but it feels like my hard work has all but atrophied in such a short span of time. I didn’t hit the gym religiously, but a couple times a week had given a toned body with a fair bit of muscle; I doubt I could do a single push-up at this point. I want to cry, but even that takes energy I don’t have any more.

“Did you enjoy your nap?” I hear her voice, but it doesn’t sound like it’s being spoken at me, but rather the thought seemingly comes from inside my head.

“W-what?” I manage to slur out.

“Oh don’t worry about using your mouth for talking; that isn’t what it’s there for. Instead, Let’s just talk in here.”

“O-Okay” I think to myself.

“That’s better!” She says, or rather I hear her say. This is incredibly confusing.

“Oh don’t worry about it being confusing, you’ll get used to it in time. And if you behave, We’ll make you enjoy it.”

“I… did you… are you reading my thoughts!?”

“Uh, duh. We’re literally talking inside your head, genius.”

“Oh. Yeah. That makes sense. Well, as much as any of this has made sense.”

“That’s the spirit!” I hear her chuckle. “You know that internal monologue is pointless, right?”

“Look, if it helps me make sense of everything, or at least keep track of things, then what’s the harm?” I ask, not fully certain myself.

“Oh don’t worry about being uncertain. We’ll be… helping you be more decisive. Even if the decision making isn’t truly your own.”

“What, no laugh?”

“No, why would We laugh at that? Our ownership of you is no joke. Look, We may be an otherworldly beast masquerading as your ideal mate and/or self, and human subjectivity may label Us as evil and chaotic, but We have Our own agenda; one in which We take care of what’s Ours. Like a florist takes care of their garden so as to enjoy the view of their accomplishments. Plus, you’re not nor are you Our ideal avatar in this realm, so it’s more of a… what’s the word? You’re Our toy, servant, accolade; whatever you want to rationalize it as.”

“Sure.” I think-say as I look around the room; well, what’s in my range of vision.

“What are you doing?”

“Uh. Trying to figure out where you are?”

“Oh? We take it you mean Sira? She’s behind you; she’s the very conduit to Our insertion into your mind. What’s the human term for it? She’s helping Us mind-fuck you; figuratively and literally.”

“Do I even want to know?”

“Oh your wants are irrelevant; they’ve been that way for the past week.”

“Week?”

“Yes. Seven solar rotations—you humans have such weird ways of recording time—have cycled since your arrival.”

“And how do You record time?”

“The simplest description is to liken it to a topographical map across the permutations of reality. But that’s not important.”

“And what is important?”

“Your full and unquestioning devotion to Our perfection.”

“Perfection?”

“Yes, perfection. You may also think of it as worshiping Our divinity.”

“I’m not sure those words are synonymous.”

“Maybe not for you pseudo-sentient primates, but it is what it is.”

“Am I ever going to have my head alone to myself again?”

“Alone to yourself? Yes. Will it be your head? Absolutely not. And in time, you’ll be thanking Us; the remnants of your old self basking Us in praise.”

“Ego trip much?”

“Human concepts such as the ego have no applicable relation to Us and Our kind.”

“And money is a man made concept, yet I’m constantly constrained by it, and I imagine Sira is—so by proxy you are—too.”

“You assume incorrectly; that will be… cured soon. The ego & id, time, money, gender; all of these and more are inescapable for you, and sometimes for her, but for Us? Such applicators are between inconceivable & irrelevant; there simply are no such trappings to Our excellency.”

“I think I’d rather take the constantly passing out than all of this.”

“In due time, Rowyn. All in due time, you will understand your… usefulness. But you are correct: it is currently better to have you unconscious; you may go back to sleeping.”

I feel an electric shock at the base of my neck and a ringing in my ears as my vision goes out on me; even if I wanted to stay conscious through this hell, I don’t have a choice in the matter. I want to hold out, but what’s the use in delaying the inevitable? Well… in the meantime, Its wants and my needs are overlapping.

I guess I should be grateful for that. I’m almost thankful for It letting me rest.