The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Ben

Ben’s alarm went off, and a smile crept over his face. Another day. Another opportunity. He sprung out of bed and stretched. He threw on some workout clothes and was out the door in five minutes. He couldn’t waste time. He wanted to get ten miles in before work today. He found that if he worked out in the morning, he would have more time with Betsy when he got home. The more time he got with Betsy, the higher the chance that Madame Sasha would let him cum today.

Another opportunity to prove himself.

Betsy

When she was sure he was gone, Betsy rolled out of bed. She felt terrible. She wasn’t sleeping. She knew that much. But she wasn’t sure she needed sleep anymore. That sounded crazy, she knew, but once she got into trance, she’d feel rested. She didn’t have a lot of time until Ben got back. He was getting faster each day.

Betsy splashed some water onto her face and headed into Ben’s office. The door was open. It was odd to think that a few months ago, he’d been so secretive of this room. It was either locked or closed at all times. Now she could wander in whenever she wanted. Last week he left the door open while he was working, and he didn’t mind when she came in without knocking. He even seemed pleased by it. Strange.

She got situated in the chair and put on the huge noise canceling headphones. She had thirty minutes. She scrolled through the Blue Viper Files site and found a video that was short enough. She started it, and sighed with relief as Sinja began to spiral over the screen.

She supposed she should have felt guilty about buying so many files, but it wasn’t like she was spending her money on anything else. Ever since she discovered this site, most of her free time was spent here, working out, or masturbating.

Betsy smiled to herself as the word danced over her mind. It used to bother her. Masturbation was dirty. When she was thirteen, her mother caught her and explained that masturbating was cheating on her future husband, that it upset God when she did that. That didn’t mean Betsy never masturbated again, but she certainly felt horrible each time she did it.

Now her hand casually slid beneath her panties as Sinja spiralled up Madame Sasha’s body. The trance was going to begin. Soon Betsy wouldn’t care about words like “masturbation,” “tits,” “cunt,” or “cum.” Those were Madame Sasha’s words, and all her words were good. It was impossible to be ashamed around Madame Sasha.

Shame implied autonomy, and when one was with Madame Sasha, all free will was blissfully absent.

Ben

When Ben returned, Betsy was still asleep in bed. He supposed he should be worried about that. Each night she fell asleep during the movie, and she was waking up later and later. She never complained about being tired, and she never looked like she needed sleep — she was looking better than ever, but still, should someone sleep that much?

Ben took the opportunity to check some of the house listings he placed bids on. He sighed as he saw there was no news. Mistress was not going to be happy about that. She always made him give a full report during their dates, and she was getting tired of not having this one loose thread wrapped up.

He supposed he could intimidate the homeowners. Mistress hadn’t asked him to do that yet, but he would, wouldn’t he? Did it matter if it hurt his career? Only if Mistress cared about his career.

Yes. That’s it. It only mattered if she cared. He’d ask her tonight during their date.

The dates were a new adjustment. Ever since Betsy started watching the movies with Ben, Mistress seemed to be especially interested in him. She would stay up late or wake up early so that all their sessions could be live. She charged double, but still, she was altering her schedule just to meet with him. That had to mean something, didn’t it?

Sometimes she would take him deep into trance when they were on a date, but other times she would ask him questions. Hundreds of questions: how much did he make? Where did he work? Who was his boss? Did he like his job? Where did he live? What neighborhood? What was the exact address? Did he have a security system? What was the code for that? Do you have cameras installed? Would his wife be okay with security cameras in your home? Get security cameras.

Or one week: How long have you wanted to be a lawyer? Did you want to be a lawyer your whole life? Do you have any political aspirations? Why not? Do other people you work with have political aspirations? What exactly does an assistant district attorney do? What does the district attorney do?

Or another week: What fantasies does your wife have? What does she like in bed? How does she like to be kissed? What kind of clothing does she wear? Do you have pictures of her? Video of her? Can you show me? Can you film her? Show me videos of her dressing or undressing.

Every session would end with more questions about Betsy, and just like the first live session, Ben would be aroused just from sharing. It was as though the closer he drew Betsy to Mistress, the closer he felt to Mistress. And the closer he felt to Betsy. Whenever he didn’t know the answer to a question about Betsy (which was often) he would have to find the answers to the questions for homework. Mistress would refuse to meet with him again until he could answer each question. That lead to some awkward conversations with his wife, but they got through it. They talked it out. And when they couldn’t, Mistress wasn’t upset when he told her that Betsy wouldn’t tell him, that asking had caused a fight. But each time they fought, they made up. They made up, and then they talked more. They talked more, and they got closer.

Mistress was bringing them together.

But all of Mistress’ questions about Betsy stopped once Ben let her go into his office. He wasn’t sure why Mistress wanted Betsy in there, but his instructions were clear. He was supposed to watch a movie with her every night, then go on his date with Mistress. When the date was over, he was supposed to leave the door open and close it behind Betsy when she went in. Then he went to bed.

He’d done that every night for a month now, and Mistress hadn’t asked a question about Betsy since.

Betsy

Once Ben was gone for work, Betsy’s day truly started. It’s amazing how little she did with her life only a month ago. She was a part of forums and societies and book clubs. She cleaned the house, cooked, and did the grocery shopping. She was boring. Ben didn’t mind when they started ordering groceries or having meals shipped to them. He didn’t mind that the dining room was getting dusty or that the porch hadn’t been swept. It’s like he didn’t notice.

She had spent years of her adult life fearing that one day she would fall behind on all these chores, and Ben would … something. Maybe not divorce her, but he’d punish her. He’d yell at her and chastise her, and he’d have a right to. Why couldn’t she keep the house clean and handle the cooking? She didn’t do anything else all day.

Well, that was before Madame Sasha.

Now her days were jammed.

The first few hours were spent doing self-care. She’d let that drop by the wayside when she was busy trying to get the school board to support the arts or get racist books banned from the library. She was endlessly busy with all these stupid projects. But now she didn’t have any of that distracting her from taking care of herself. Madame Sasha had given her permission to love herself, to pamper herself, and that was precisely what she was going to do.

She started with the workout. She ran to the gym, did some lifting there, and then ran back home. Then she had a lengthy, lengthy shower. That ended with a thorough skin regime of shaving, lotion, massaging, and then some more lotion. Hair and makeup took almost an hour, and then she picked out her wardrobe. If she didn’t like anything in the closet, Madame Sasha told her to go shopping and get something she liked. The old Betsy would have worried about Ben finding out, about the costs stacking up, but he never said anything. He used to check their account balances religiously, and then, all of a sudden, he didn’t care.

By that point, it was late in the afternoon, and she needed to eat. At first she tried not to, but when she reported that to Madame Sasha, she was upset. She talked about how she didn’t want a twig. She wanted a woman. Betsy needed curves for her Mistress. That meant that everything Betsy did for her body — her workout routine and her diet — were all designed to keep her fit but not destroy her curves. She’d experienced Mistress’ wrath a few times when she talked out of turn or thought for herself.

She wouldn’t do that again.

For the first few weeks, she tried to think of what Mistress wanted and spent the afternoons trying to give that to her. She researched hypnosis and trance, seeing if she could find an online community to divert to Blue Viper Files. She tried trancing herself and looked up dozens of files to bring her under, but none of them worked as well as Madame Sasha, and Mistress didn’t appreciate her showing initiative. She kept telling Betsy to spend her time relaxing, but Betsy could only relax with Madame Sasha. Nothing else worked.

The afternoons would be spent in Ben’s office. She set a timer to make sure she had plenty of time before he came home, and kept her cell phone nearby and off silent mode in case he messaged that he was coming early. She locked all the doors in the house except for his office door, which she kept open. Hopefully she’d hear him come in and could escape before she got caught.

Then she pulled up the Blue Viper Files, slid her hand down her panties, and relaxed. Her mind become nothing, and her body woke up to the nothingness, imagining Sinja coiling over her limbs or Madame Sasha’s fingers teasing her as she spoke.

At least, that’s how it started. It had become so much more now.

Ben

Ben stepped out of the courtroom as soon as he got the notification on his phone, telling Greg that it was an emergency. It was Zillow. One of the properties he was interested in — one of the nice ones — had responded to his bid. They wanted to talk more.

The lawyer in Ben told him to slow down. He didn’t want to come across as too eager or desperate. That put him in a position of weakness as far as negotiations were concerned. But it didn’t matter. Expediency is all that mattered. He knew that if he came across as too desperate, they’d think he was up to no good. Even saying he’d pay in cash — which he would — could be a red flag in some of these nicer neighborhoods.

Ben spent the afternoon messaging back and forth with the owner. They agreed to let him see the space again, to give a more personal tour, while they discussed prices and process. They asked if he had a lawyer to work with, and he said he’d do it himself.

But he didn’t know much about property law.

Betsy

It was Madame Sasha’s idea.

Betsy had complained that she’d gone through all of Madame Sasha’s files. She wanted more live sessions. She wanted Madame Sasha all the time, to be deep in trance with her forever, but she refused. She said Betsy wasn’t ready. Wasn’t worthy.

Then she sent a link.

One little link. It was harmless. How could Betsy have thought otherwise? Besides, it was one little link that brought her the Blue Viper Files, that brought her Madame Sasha. One more couldn’t hurt. If Madame Sasha said it would help. It would. That’s how this worked.

It was an online community for lesbian BDSM. The first time Betsy scrolled through, she broke out of trance and ran from the room. Literally ran. She hid in her bedroom, crying, afraid. She didn’t know what she’d become. She’d gone too deep. Too far. There must be a way out of this, and that way was backwards. Repent. That was the word that came to her, glowing in her mind. She needed to repent of her ways and get away from Madame Sasha and the Blue Viper Files. She wouldn’t go back into Ben’s office. She wouldn’t go into trance ever again.

That lasted two days.

She’d never experienced withdrawal before, never crossed that cruel line where the mental craving for something became physical torment. Her body shook. Her vision blurred. Her head hurt all the time. She felt like she was dying, her whole body shutting down until she was back safely in Madame Sasha’s embrace. That was the only place she was safe, the only place she was meant to be.

But when she returned, Madame Sasha refused to see her. She asked Betsy if she’d been to the site, if she’d made any contacts. Betsy told her the truth, and Madame Sasha turned her away until she proved herself. Only then could she be brought back into the Blue Viper Files. Obedience would be her only redemption.

Thank God, Betsy only had to watch at first. Women posted images and videos of them dominating other women or being dominated. Betsy watched nipples twisted, bodies flogged and spanked, heels licked, and bodies suspended and bound. She was horrified but captivated. Slowly, as the sessions with Madame Sasha continued, captivation turned fascination. There was something in these women, in these dommes, that reminded her of Madame Sasha. The more she watched, the more she wanted Madame Sasha to talk to her that way.

Betsy opened up a new tab as the files sank into her. It was one she’d seen a dozen times. She almost had it memorized now. It just dropped her in, luring her to a comfortable and thoughtless place. Then she turned on the webcam and loaded up her profile on the site. There were a few women there who all wanted to own her. She told them that she was married, and she had a domme, but they persisted. They liked her pictures and her videos. They wanted more. They wanted her body. Madame Sasha told her to entertain them, to see what it was like to be pursued by a woman, and she’d given it her best. All of the makeup and working out and new clothes were for Madame Sasha first and foremost. But Mistress Rose and Sarah and Autumn got to enjoy her too. She served all of them when she could. She pulled up the lesbian porn she had started last time, and continued. Then, without a care in the world, she sat back, watched, and rubbed.

That was how she spent the afternoons now. She rubbed away the thoughts and worries and concerns. She rubbed everything away as women enjoyed her. She would wake up in a few hours, out of trance, when the timer went off or she heard Ben come home. Then she’d rush to the bathroom, clean up, and get ready to find dinner with him. She never cared for the time, however much was lost. She never checked the site to see what she’d done or said or posted. Her Mistresses seemed pleased with her. That was enough.

Ben

Apparently, cash wasn’t too forward for the homeowner. His lawyer was there, and Ben brought his bank records, showing that he’d be able to pay what he promised. They’d taken out a second mortgage, and Ben may be in debt for a hundred thousand years, but he’d done it. The house was only a few blocks away from his own. Mistress would be so happy with him.

His boss, the district attorney, had called a few times, wondering where Ben had gone and if everything was okay. Ben called back and cleaned things up. He hoped his lie was convincing, but if it wasn’t, he could always talk about the house, say he was trying to surprise his wife, that’s why it was a big secret. Madame Sasha had insisted that Ben kept his job. He was to maintain good and healthy work relationships and work his hardest. But he also had to keep up his marriage, discipline his body, and serve Mistress. It was more than he had time or energy to do, but Mistress made it clear that it was Ben’s problem, not hers. She gave orders, and he sorted out the details.

The house was quiet when he came home, and he went upstairs to find Betsy. She was normally in the bathroom when he arrived. It always made him smile that she put on makeup just to look good for him right when he walked through the door.

“Honey?” he shouted. “I’m home!”

“In here,” shouted Betsy.

Ben stood outside the door, taking off his tie, jacket, and shoes. “How was your day?” he asked.

“Good,” she said. “Had to do a bit of shopping.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Anything I might like to see?”

The door opened and Betsy held it wide, framing the door and showing off her new outfit. She was in a red dress with a fitted bodice and half sleeves. The skirt of it was full and cut off half way through the thigh, and that’s what drew Ben’s eye. Months ago, Betsy would rather die than show that much leg, especially in these colder months. But here she was, showing cleavage and leg. All for him.

Ben smiled despite himself. He knew he should feel some twinge of guilt. He was in love with Mistress, and yet, his wife was blossoming right in front of him. It’s true that they weren’t having sex. She wasn’t flirting with him or hitting on him. But she was happy. Happier than she’d been in years.

“See anything you like?” she said with a twirl. Ben laughed as she did it. She was ten years younger. This was the woman he’d fallen in love with, and he was falling in love with her again. He’d feel awful if Mistress hadn’t made it clear she wanted this. She wasn’t threatened by Betsy. She wanted Betsy drawn in. There was enough of Ben for the both of them.

He would have his cake and eat it too.

“Dinner?” she asked and headed out the door. She swayed her hips as she walked, and turned back and winked when she thought Ben was looking. He was. They both smiled and went downstairs into the kitchen.

“Let’s do Chinese,” she said without opening the fridge. They had moved past that. He didn’t know when or how, but the old life died without complaint. The new life was too good to go back.

“Sounds good, then movie?”

“Yes, please. My pick?”

“Sure.”

She didn’t bat an eye at the nightly movie. He was thankful for that. He also never minded what she picked. She’d be asleep halfway through, and he could go upstairs and tell Mistress all about his day. He couldn’t wait to tell her about the house. Maybe he could cum tonight. It was another opportunity for release. He didn’t mind when she bound him to chastity, but he wished he had the aid of a cage, though he could never explain it to Betsy.

There were a million things he could never explain to her.

She picked Pretty Woman. They ate on the couch, bodies entangled, and, within an hour, she was asleep again. It was barely seven o’clock. That left plenty of time for Mistress. Ben carefully separated from her and cleaned up in the kitchen. Betsy needed rest, and he’d hate for her to clean up before going to bed. Then he sat down at his computer and turned it —

Odd. It was already on.

“Ready, Malen’kiy?”

Ben froze. The voice was coming from the computer. She was already on. Waiting for him. Was he late? Ben scrambled to get his headphones on and adjust the webcam, but it was already in place, already pointing at his chair.

“Mistress?” he squeaked.

She flickered into view on his screen. “Yes?”

“How are you here?”

“I’ve been talking to your wife.”

“What?” Ben tried to get up, but Sasha showed him the “sleep” tattoo, and he slumped down into his chair.

“You knew you were giving her to me,” said Madame Sasha. “Answering my questions about her? Trancing her with movies each night? Bringing her into your office and walking away? You knew you were leaving her to me. Did you think I would not take her?”

Ben did not mutter or stir. His mind was off, somewhere else. He was back with the memories Madame Sasha had turned off. Memories of installing new sound systems and special televisions. Giving Mistress the passwords to Betsy’s accounts, giving her access to his wife’s phone, letting her watch Betsy through the security camera. He did it each night when he was done with Mistress. Betsy spent time with Mistress, and Ben tightened the coils of Mistress’ control over their lives. Then each morning, he woke up with nothing but vague feelings of movie nights and dates with Mistress.

Then he did it again.

And again.

And again.

Weeks of this. He’d known. Surely, he’d known. He wasn’t an idiot. She was too curious about Betsy, too insistent when any command involved her. Madame Sasha wanted his wife, and he had done everything to give her away. He was a fool, a traitor, an adulterer, and …

He was hard.

“Yes, Malen’kiy, you gave her to me because you love me. You gave her to me because you love her. You gave her away so she may have the bride she deserved. And now that she is gone, you may have the bride you deserve.”

Sinja slithered over Madame Sasha, coiling round and around. Ben couldn’t tell if it was the real snake or the illusion Mistress sometimes used. They were all real now. Too real.

“Tell me.” Madame Sasha revealed the “obey” tattoo. “How are preparations going?”

“Good Mistress. The house is ready for you. The paperwork needs to be done, but it’s all agreed upon. You may come whenever you want. I’ll arrange for your immigrations papers shortly. A few weeks at most.”

“Good, good.” Madame Sasha revealed the “love” tattoo. Ben’s whole body glowed at the sight of it. He knew what he had done now, how he’d betrayed Betsy, but he also knew it was worth it. His body tingled as goosebumps erupted over his skin. His hard cock twitched. This was it. It was all for this. He had sold his wife for it, but it was worth it. She would be happier with Madame Sasha. Everyone was happier with her. She had brought them together, all of them. Ben was more in love than ever. He and Betsy hadn’t been this close in years, and each moment of his life was filled with desire and devotion for Madame Sasha. She was a magnet that drew them both to her, but as they approached her, how could they not approach each other?

“I love you, Malen’kiy,” she whispered. She rubbed the word on her breast, moaning as she did, bending over towards him, towards the camera. Ben’s vision went fuzzy. He couldn’t handle it, couldn’t see straight. His cock twitched again, and he had to cum. He’d been so good. Surely, he could cum now. He’d earned it. He’d earned it.

“I love you so much,” she repeated. Ben stroked faster.

“I love you too, Mistress.”

“I want you.”

“I want you too.”

“You’ve been such a good boy.”

“Yes.”

“A very good boy.”

“Yes.”

“You want to cum don’t you?”

“Yes, Mistress, please. Please may I cum?”

“No.” Madame Sasha stopped stroking the word “love” and moved back to “sleep” and “obey” simultaneously. Ben managed a whimper of disappointment before his mind went fuzzy. “You may cum when you prove yourself, my love.”

“What else can I give you?” he asked, but there was no whine in his voice. He was lost in her power, perfectly content to be whatever she wanted him to be.

“There is more. There is always more.” Madame Sasha stopped rubbing “sleep” and Ben’s mind stirred. She held him in her control, rubbing “obey” but his erection was gone. He was nothing.

“Let’s begin on my paperwork today,” she commanded. “I tire of waiting.”

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