The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Avaken, slave!” The words reverberate in my ears as I slowly open my eyes. I feel completely dazed, and my vision is blurry. Any attempt to focus on my surroundings makes me acutely aware of the presence of a pounding headache. I try to cover my head with my hands in a vain attempt to shield myself from the blistering pain, but I can’t even move my arms. A few more seconds of struggling force me to accept the fact that my arms have been quite securely bound behind my back. From the fact that I can’t even move my legs, I deduce that I’ve been hogtied. I try to break free, but it’s no use. I can feel the restraints cutting into my wrists and ankles.

“It’s useless to struggle, slave.” There’s the same voice I heard a moment ago. It belongs to a woman. It’s a bit deep, but it’s unmistakably feminine. “I think you’ll find that you are unable to free yourself from your bonds.” There’s something alluring about the voice. It’s almost playful, and it even has a bit of an accent. German, I think. With a voice like that, well, different circumstances might find me trying to fuck this bitch until her tits fell off. Hell. After putting me through this shit, I just might make that happen anyway. “Besides, you don’t vant to leave now. The fun is just beginning.”

“Listen here, bitch,” my throat is dry, but I still manage to push the words out. “The only fun I’m going to have is when I take my knife and shove it so far up your cunt that—” I freeze instantly as I feel a sharp point gently pressing into the base of my dick.

“Do you mean this knife?” Her tone is a lot less playful now. I’d better be careful. There’s no telling how she might react if I provoke her. “Don’t worry, slave. I vouldn’t vant to mar such a pretty little body.” I sigh in relief as she pulls the knife away. “I cannot, however, let such a transgression go unpunished.”

“Please, bitch,” I make sure not to let my voice give away the fact that I’m bluffing, “I’ve been through worse shit than you can even imagine.”

“You see? That is vhat I am talking about.” She almost sounds like she’s disappointed in me now. “You must never refer to me is such a vulgar fashion. From now on, you vill address me as Mistress!” My entire body spasms as I feel a jolt of electricity fly through me. It only lasts for a fraction of a second, but it’s enough to make every muscle ache. “Now, how vill you address me?” Is that all you’ve got? Some little buzzer? It’s going to take more than that to break me. It’s too dark too see much of anything in here, but I decide I’ll throw on a bit of a smirk just to drive the point home. Mistress.

“Mistress.” I sneer at her. Wait, what the fuck?

“That’s better, slave. I must say, I didn’t expect it to take this long for the suggestions to take hold. You’ll feel so much better when they do, though.”

“What in the hell are you talking about? And why do you keep calling me slave?” The bitch is crazy! John ‘The Butcher’ Simmons is no one’s slave. If anything, I’m her obedient slave. “I’m your obedient slave. What the hell?” I move to smack myself in the head, but my arms are still tied behind me. “What the fuck did you do to me? Why do I keep saying this shit?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice is playful again. Very playful. “Vhy do you keep agreeing vith me, slave?” I’m getting pissed.

“I don’t know. Does it have something to do with the fact that you’re a huge, raging” beautiful and perfect Mistress “beautiful and perfect Mistress!” Shit. Alright, John Alexis. Right, Alexis. Think, Alexis, think! Raging at her isn’t getting me anywhere. Maybe, if I calm down a bit, then she’ll let me lick her glorious feet. Fuck yes! I would do anything to taste her feet. I’d even WHAT THE FUCK? Why the hell would I think that? And who in the hell is Alexis? Wait. Is she laughing at me? She is! “What in the hell are you laughing at,” Mistress Ingrid “Mistress Ingrid? Wait, Ingrid? I know that name. It’s you! You’re the one that hired me to break into this place to begin with!”

“That’s right, slave,” her breath tickles my ear as she leans close and speaks. “Of course, I may have lied about certain details. The main one being that this is actually my house. Only slightly less important, however, is that I planned to drug, brainvash, and enslave you.”

“Brainwash? How in the world did you even—” I’m not even sure what to say next. That’s okay, though, because it’s better to let Mistress think for me. Yeah, it’s so much easier when I don’t have to think.

“Brainvash, hypnotize, vhatever you vant to call it. The point is that your mind has already started to accept my suggestions. The only thing to do now is to wait for the change to complete itself. In the meantime, let us chat. I’m very interested to know vhat you think about all of this.” I wince as she turns on the lights. My eyes gradually adjust, and I can see that I’m lying on a table. Sitting in front of me is a beautiful blonde bombshell. I mean, I’ve seen her before. We met when she hired me, but I don’t remember her looking like this. She’s got an incredible hourglass figure barely contained by black leather one-piece. Her legs are mostly covered by a pair of thigh-high, leather boots, but the tops of her thighs are showing off her pale skin. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I’m not sure if I think that because of what she’s done to me or because it’s true. Mistress’s words are my truth.

“Come now,” she’s flashing me the most enticing smile through her red, pouty lips. “There must be something you vould like to say.”

“Who’s Alexis? And why does that name keep popping into my head?” Mistress “Mistress.” There she is laughing again. It’s actually kind of a pretty laugh, and it sounds like she’s happy. I live to serve Mistress Ingrid. Her happiness is all that concerns me.

“Isn’t it obvious, my dear slave? You are Alexis.” She’s holding up a hand mirror that she pulled from behind her chair. “Can’t you see that?” I recognize the reflection, but everything is wrong. My face has been shaved clean, and my long brown hair has been pulled into two braided pigtails. And, is that lipstick? Why am I wearing pink lipstick and matching makeup? I’m so confused. The woman in the mirror looks so confused. Is that even me? Yes, I am Alexis. I am Mistress Ingrid’s dear slave, Alexis. “Vhat is your name, slave?”

“My name is Alexis, Mistress. My name is... is... rrrgh!” It’s getting so hard to think. “No! My name is John. John Simmons.” Wait, is that my name? “I mean, I think it is. It was. Dammit! Why can’t I think straight?” Thinking is so hard. Mistress will think for me. “Mistress, I’m not sure what to think.”

“Vell, you are technically right on both counts. Before tonight, you vere the man known as John Simmons.” Uh-oh. She’s not smiling any more. “But let me tell you about John. John vas a sad little man, really. He vas a frail, petty, little boy who fancied himself a hardened criminal.” My body reflexively tenses up as she rises and begins to walk towards me. “John vas villing to commit nearly any crime, no matter how reprehensible, for even a paltry sum of money.” She’s leaning in closer now, and I can see hatred in her eyes. “In some cases, he didn’t even need money to motivate his actions. Rape and torture seemed to be especially good at motivating John. There was one girl in particular that he followed home one night. She vas a bright, young girl who had come to this country on a student visa. Her name vas Gretchen, and she vas my sister.” Shit! Shit shit shit SHIT! Wait, what is she reaching for? Oh, god. It’s a... a card? A driver’s license. It says Gretchen Schwartz. Next to the name is a picture of... oh god. No, not her. I... I... I did terrible things to Gretchen Scwartz, and I deserve to live an endless nightmare. Yes. I remember her. I can’t even be sure I remember my own name at this point, but I remember her.

“My sister vas a brilliant girl vith a bright future. You left her a scarred mess who could barely keep reign on her own sanity. She should be in graduate school right now. Do you know where she is instead?” How the hell am I supposed to know?

“No, Mistress.” Despite my best attempts at false bravado, my answer comes out in a frightened squeak. Before I can say anything else, I feel Mistress Ingrid’s hand connect with the side of my face. From the force of the impact, I’m pretty sure that her nails drew blood.

“She’s in a goddamn mental hospital!” I prepare myself for another slap, but it never comes. When I open my eyes, I see Mistress Ingrid straightening her hair. She’s regained her composure, and she seems to have a look of pity in her eyes. I lower my eyes as my mind is filled with memories of things I‘ve done, people I’ve hurt. John was terrible and should not exist. No one will miss John. No one will miss John. Tears begin to streak down my cheek as I come to terms with that fact. I feel so alone, so empty.

“I’m so sorry, Mistress Ingrid.” I’m trying so hard to stifle my crying, but there doesn’t seem to be a point anymore. I feel a cathartic wave of release as I completely break down.

“I know, slave. Alas, ve cannot change the past no matter how sorry ve are. Ve can, however, change the future, and that is vhere Alexis comes in. John took vhatever he could and gave only misery. Alexis, on the other hand, takes nothing and gives of herself completely.” A pleasant chill runs up my spine as she walks forward and begins to twirl one of my pigtails around her finger. I live only to serve. Suddenly, I feel the emptiness inside of me begin to fill. “Alexis has no desires other than to give others pleasure. She does only vhat she is told, and she has no need to think for herself.” Mistress Ingrid will think for me. I need only to obey. “Isn’t that right, Alexis?”

“Yes, Mistress Ingrid.” My tears begin to subside, and I can see Mistress Ingrid smiling at me.

“Good girl.” Her words are enough to lift my spirits, and I meet her smile with one of my own. “Now, tell me, my dear. Who are you?” Alexis. I am Alexis.

“I am Alexis, pleasure slave to my Mistress Ingrid.” I am Alexis, and I am free of my past. I am free of John. I suddenly feel as if the weight of my past has been lifted from me.

“That is vonderful, slave. You are now completely mine, and your redemption can finally begin.” My arms and my legs limply fall to the table as Mistress Ingrid releases my bonds. “Stand up, Alexis.” I struggle with myself as I scurry to obey, and I clumsily fall to the floor as blood painfully rushes back to my appendages. I must obey Mistress Ingrid. I force myself to stand as my muscles strain beneath my skin. “Did that hurt, slave?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Good. Pain is good for you, isn’t it?” Pain is penance. Pain is what I deserve. No pain is too great. I live only to serve.

“Yes, Mistress,” I answer enthusiastically. I see a wad of pink fabric land at my feet.

“Put on that maid uniform, Alexis.” I quickly dress myself in the pink French maid outfit. I struggle trying to pull on the matching thigh-high stockings, but I eventually manage. The smooth texture of the stockings allows my feet to easily slip into the pink, high-heeled shoes, and a long pair of satiny gloves completes my new uniform. “Now, I vant you to stay here vhile I fetch a couple of ‘accessories’.” The corners of her mouth raise into a wicked smile as she emphasizes the last word.

“Yes, Mistress Ingrid,” I reply in as soft and breathy a voice as I can manage. I watch Mistress Ingrid leave the room, and I find myself distracted as my the satin gloves brush against my legs. A spark of pleasure shoots through my body, and I eagerly begin to explore my body through my new clothes. Pretty slaves should wear pretty clothes. Pretty clothes make me feel pretty. I love feeling pretty. I do. I feel so pretty, and I love it. My eyes close, and my head tilts back as my hands dance across my stomach and up to my chest. I reach the top of the low-cut uniform, and my hands continue exploring. As I revel in the sensation of satin fabric caressing my bare flesh, I feel words form themselves in my throat. “I am Mistress Ingrid’s pretty little pleasure slave, Alexis. I am Mistress Ingrid’s pretty little pleasure slave, Alexis. I am Mistress Ingrid’s pretty little ple—” I freeze as a hand firmly grasps my erect cock. My eyes open to see Mistress Ingrid standing directly in front of me. She is staring at me so intensely that I am unable to look away.

“Continue, slave.” She punctuates her words by painfully tightening her grip. Unable to think of anything but her command, I obey.

“I-I-I am Mistress Ingrid’s pretty little pleasure slave, Alexis.” Her hand quickly jerks my dick towards her. Intense pain fills me, and it feels like my cock is about to be torn off. The pain only lasts for a moment, though. She releases her grip, and I am suddenly overcome by a pleasure greater than anything I’ve ever felt. Only Mistress Ingrid can make me feel this good. I barely manage to keep myself from buckling forward.

“Again,” Mistress commands.

“I am Mistress Ingrid’s pretty little pleasure slave, Alexis.” Another stroke. Another round of intense pain and pleasure. Only Mistress Ingrid-

“Again, slave.”

“I am Mistress Ingrid’s pretty little pleasure slave, Alexis.” Stroke. Pain. Pleasure. -can make me-

“Again!”

“I am Mistress Ingrid’s pretty little pleasure slave, Alexis.” Only Mistress Ingrid can make me -feel this good. I stand prepared to repeat my new mantra. Mistress Ingrid does not give the order, though. Instead, she swings her open palm and sharply connects with my balls. Tears well up in my eyes, and I want desperately to collapse to the floor and curl into myself. Before my body can react, however, I am once again filled with the mind-numbing pleasure I’d experienced only moments before.

“Very good, slave. But ve can’t get you too worked up just yet.” I feel something excruciatingly tight snap into place around my throbbing, erect cock, and I look down to see that it is a leather cuff attached to a chain leash. Mistress Ingrid is holding the other end. “After all, ve still have a party to attend.”

“Party?” I repeat the word quizzically as it bounces around inside of my empty head.

“Of course, Alexis. Today is the day you vere born anew. It is your birthday, and vhat is a birthday vithout a party?” her hand casually slaps the right side of my face. “Open.” I obey, and she shoves a short, penis-shaped gag inside of my mouth before stepping behind me. My lips tighten around it, and my tongue absent-mindedly begins to caress the rubber as she securely fastens its buckle.

“Come now,” she says as she steps back in front of me and heads towards the door. “Several of my friends vill be there, and they are all very excited to meet you.” A sudden tug on the leash signals me to begin following Mistress Ingrid. “After all, you aren’t just the guest of honor. You’re also the party favor.”