The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The text message came as she was leaving for the bus on Friday afternoon. Tonight 7pm. Rachel sighed and considered her reply. She...could refuse. She already had plans for tonight. She and Jill had been trying to get together for two months now, and things kept popping up. Last time, Jill had to cancel at the last minute (Paul had been sick, another ear infection, the poor kid) and the time before that had been Rachel’s fault. A summons, like this one.

Tonight 7pm.

She should refuse. It would be better. Well, healthier, probably. She...didn’t actually know anything about her summoner. Most of the time, she imagined her summoner was male because that was hot to her, but “his” voice was delightfully androgynous. Intentionally so, Rachel suspected. Part of their deal was that she not know anything about “him”, not even “his” gender.

Another part of their deal was that she not refuse a summons unless it was an emergency. Work deadlines, attending a friend’s wedding, a family gathering, her parents’ anniversary party were acceptable reasons. Getting together with a friend for dinner and drinks was not an acceptable reason to refuse. Her summoner would know the real reason, even if she lied and claimed an emergency. Rachel took a deep breath and did her best to ignore the anticipatory tingle between her legs. She sent her reply. As you wish. Thank you.

Now all she had to do was call Jill. She waited until she was on the bus for that. Wimpy of her, she knew, but she also knew Jill would be disappointed, and...well, Rachel preferred to avoid conflict, even if it meant using underhanded tactics like begging out of further conversation because she was on the bus.

“Awww, I was looking forward to it,” Jill said as the bus pulled out of the transit center. “Well...”

Rachel knew that pause well enough. “How’s next Friday?” She shouldn’t have another summons so soon. Her summoner was delightfully cruel in that respect. She would come every Friday night if ordered to, but the summons were random, and occasionally, the time between them stretched long enough that she began to believe her summoner had forgotten her. Or had finally gotten bored with her. And that thought, the thought that she wasn’t important or interesting enough to think about between sessions, that made the anticipatory tingle between her legs flare into full-on lust.

“I think I’m free.” Though the phone, Rachel could hear Jill flipping through pages on her day planner. “Yeah.”

“Great!” Rachel squeezed her thighs together, tried to think of anything but her summons, but of course, it consumed her mind. She couldn’t remember what she said to get off the phone, but it only took another ninety seconds, and then...well, then she failed at not thinking about her summons.

She always met her summoner at an empty waterfront warehouse. Every time she was tempted to do a title or tenant search, she remembered what she was told: any investigation on her part would end things. She wasn’t sure how her summoner would know (ask her, maybe?), but it didn’t matter. Her summoner would know. Her summoner always knew.

Besides, it was more fun this way. These summons were the most satisfying sex she had, and a fair portion of her satisfaction was tied up in the anonymity. The rest was tied up in her treatment. She wasn’t a person once summoned. She was a thing. A toy.

She parked behind the warehouse and locked her purse in the trunk. The side door was open for her as always, and a single light was on in the center of the warehouse, casting a pool of weak yellow light. A series of boxes were waiting for her, red with black bows.

Her cunt was already wet and throbbing. She took a shaky breath and knelt to open each box. Latex, as usual, a black catsuit and hood with an ring gag. Red latex boots with black laces. A red leather collar, leash, and red back strap arm binder. A wireless egg, ridged silicone buttplug, and lube. So, she’d be cocksucking tonight, cocksucking on her knees with her arms bound behind her and her summoner playing the remote, making her come and come for the entertainment of the people using her.

Fuck. She didn’t need the lube to slide the egg vibrator into position. She did use it for the buttplug, though she couldn’t resist using her own juices to start opening up her ass for the plug. It was almost too big, just the way she liked it.

An orgasm ghosted through her. Rachel was panting by the time she was ready for the catsuit. She (sadly) couldn’t linger as much as she would have liked. Her summoner would arrive soon, and she had to be hooded and ready. If she wasn’t, her summoner would leave and likely never use her again. So she hurried as much as the latex would allow, and she was fastening the last strap on the hood when she heard the muffled sound of one of the bay doors opening. Perfect timing.

She fumbled with the collar, fastened it by touch. Her summoner would have to help her in the arm binder. She moaned and clenched around the egg and plug.

A car pulled in, close enough that she could almost feel the purr of the engine before it cut off. A door opened, footsteps, and she felt her summoner’s presence wash over her, intense and overwhelming. She whimpered.

“You look lovely,” her summoner said, and Rachel felt fingers testing the straps of her hood, her collar. “Are you ready to be my cunt?”

She whimpered and nodded.

“Are you really?” Her summoner jerked her head up and shoved two fingers in her mouth. “Remember what a cunt is.”

A collection of holes. Something to fuck. She licked the fingers. Gloves. Her summoner was (as usual) wearing gloves, leather. Of course. Why would someone as elevated as her summoner...no, its owner touch something as low as the cunt with bare skin?

“That’s better.” Its owner began fucking its mouth, and the cunt didn’t try holding in its moan. “Don’t embarrass me tonight.”

No. It wouldn’t embarrass its owner. A part of Rachel came back to herself, that little voice of reason that said she was going too far, but the egg and plug sat heavy and firm in her, and the feel of them stretching her wide made her pulse in need until even her breasts throbbed and ached, as if it was their way of begging to be used, and all she wanted was to have the binder cinching her arms tight behind her back, the leash clipped on her collar, and her owner to lead her into the car and take her to whatever club or party where she’d serve as a fucktoy. A faceless, nameless fucktoy, though if she was lucky, someone would remember she was a person (a willing volunteer) beneath the latex and laugh at her.

And since she wanted it so bad, didn’t that make her a cunt?

Yes. Its owner removed the fingers from its mouth, sudden enough that the cunt (no more Rachel, my cunt, not until you’re delivered back here thoroughly used and drenched in come) whimpered and felt empty despite the egg and plug filling it. No, no more Rachel.

The event was at a club. The music was too loud, even blunted by the hood, and the cunt was reduced to touch. People groped it, pinched its breasts and nipples through the latex, slapped its ass and face, tugged it by the collar, forced it to its knees. And then finally, finally, someone shoved his cock down its throat.

“That’s it,” its user said, his grip firm on the uppermost strap on its hood. The cunt gagged as he thrust deep. “You like this, cunt?”

Yes. It moaned, let it take a pleading note when he withdrew. It didn’t feel him come on its face, but it knew that’s what he did. And then another man took his place. And another and another until the cunt’s throat burned and its knees went numb and it lost count of both the men and the number of times its owner activated the egg vibrator and made it come.

You’re a mess. Its owner ran its fingers over the cunt’s cheeks and slid come-streaked fingers into the cunt’s mouth. It’s all over your chest, too. But I can still see some latex, so you’ll give me more, won’t you?

The cunt couldn’t hear much over the music, but it owner’s words rang clear in its mind. It nodded and licked the come off its owner’s gloved fingers.

Its owner laughed, and the egg vibrator flared to life again. “That’s a good cunt. I’ll leave you with these gentlemen.”

The cunt felt its leash handed off. And then another man was in front of it again, filling its mouth with his glorious cock.

This, this, was what it needed. It didn’t even know what noises it was making. It didn’t matter, really. All that mattered was the cock fucking its throat, the come it couldn’t really feel on its face and neck and breasts, the rough fingers on the strap of its hood, holding its head in place, the musk of sex and come and the way the egg vibrator and plug both filled it and left it wanting, because as thick as they were, as wide as they stretched it, they weren’t cocks, and a cunt’s holes existed for cocks.

Its owner was wonderfully cruel sometimes. The cunt came. How many times now? It had lost count. It was dizzy now, too hot in the latex, and oh, that was wonderful, too, because maybe this was the time everything became too much. Maybe this was the time the cunt was pushed past that niggling little identity that was trying to get its attention from somewhere deep in its mind. Get up, the cunt thought it was trying to say. Leave.

But how could it? Even if its arms were free so it could leave without assistance, rising and breaking away from the men using it would embarrass its owner. And it had promised it wouldn’t do that. If it meant being used like this, being marked like this...well, wasn’t that the privilege of being a cunt?

Its owner (or whoever its owner had given the remote to) activated the egg vibrator again and dialed it up to the highest setting. It was too much for the cunt. It screamed and came, bucking its hips and clenching its hands into tight fists. The man fucking it came in its throat, his grip on the cunt’s head painfully hard. And oh! The cunt had no choice but to swallow and take him deep. His orgasm seemed to last forever. He overwhelmed the cunt. Red sparks danced in the darkness of its vision, and it knew it was close to blacking out, but it didn’t want the moment to end.

It was perfect, and the cunt could feel its owner laughing at it, and if it strained, it could hear other people laughing, and it so desperately wanted those people to be laughing at it.

Oh, they are. They know if I removed that hood, you’d lick the come off the floor at their feet.

Yes. It would even beg for that honor.

That’s my good cunt.

Its owner sounded proud. The cunt came again, violently, and then it fainted.

When the cunt came back to itself, it heard a rhythmic thump. It took the cunt a couple of moments to realize it was in its owner’s trunk, that the car was heading back to the warehouse.

Back with me, I see.

The cunt whimpered. How did its owner always know?

Its owner’s laugher echoed in the trunk. There’s not a thought that goes though that pretty little head of yours that I don’t know. I could summon you like this, but I like the text messages.

It liked the text messages, too, the pretend struggle. Of course it would obey, but it liked the illusion of choice.

More laughter. The car slowed, turned, and then a few moments later, came to a stop. It felt its owner exit and move around the car, and then its owner opened the trunk and helped the cunt squirm out of the trunk.

It knelt on the floor of the warehouse. “You need to be hosed down.” Its owner knelt behind it and began working loose the arm binder. Release was painful, and the cunt cried out. “But I’m afraid I’m on a schedule, so perhaps you’ll be kind enough to lick everything clean before you go.”

Yes. It bowed, relishing the lingering burn in its arms.

“That’s a good cunt.” Its owner patted its ass, then began walking away. “Oh yes,” its owner said as it opened the car door. “I said no more Rachel until you were delivered back here thoroughly used and drenched in come. I believe all conditions are met. Enjoy cleaning up.”

Rachel’s moan drowned out the sound of the car starting. She came as her summoner drove away. She stayed slumped on the floor, panting, for what felt like a long time until her pulse settled down and her breathing evened out. Yes, she’d enjoy cleaning up, and she’d enjoy being sore, and she’d even enjoy the torturously long wait for another summons because...

Well, it didn’t matter why anymore. Her choice, her summoner’s, they were both the same now. And...perhaps this was just a foolish hope on her part, but she thought she could feel her summoner chucking deep, deep, deep in her mind.