The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The following story contains adult material. If below the age of 18, go outside, get some fresh air and do something healthy (g).

If you ARE 18, then you should know the following story is about women who are forced through mind control to participate in non-consensual sex, public humiliation, and b&d, in both m/f and f/f situations. Both the characters and occurrences in this fiction are completely fictitious.

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The Conditioners

By Marlissa

33 of 33

Epilogue VI: Master, Mistress and A Maid

Keith enjoyed the early ride home in the new Porsche, not only for the way it handled but for the way in which it had passed into his hands. Klaw was away in his villa on Barbados—“a little R&R after our recent teacup tempests” was the way he had put it—but the tag on the keys were surely his script.

Mr. Hynde,

Enjoy the ride, but remember—we’ve only begun the journey.

Regards, Irwin Klaw

It was so like Klaw—a simple note yet byzantine in its implications. Giving a seventy thousand dollar car away in such a manner—it took Keith’s breath away. He smiled and threw the car into fifth.

Life was good. His disgrace at Morgan & Company—which had looked to haunt him for the rest of his days—was now was a distant memory, sensuously fogged back into a time of trial and, well, damn it—heroism. Yes—he was a survivor who had overcome his challenges and deserved his new-found treasures.

Like Julia Martin for instance.

Ironic wasn’t the word for it.

Insane maybe.

Hysterical perhaps.

But ironic? No. That was too tame a word for the reversal of fortune in particular situation. After all, Julia Martin had been the one who had driven him from Morgan & Company and, as fate would have it, straight to Cain Consulting. For that alone, Julia Martin had a special place in, if not his heart, then at least Keith’s libido.

It had gone smoothly as it always did. Following the “interview,” he had taken her quickly and efficiently on the desk. He now realized he had wanted to have her from the moment her had set eyes on her some two years ago—and simply couldn’t help himself. Klaw would have disapproved of the crassness, but, damn it, even in her Conditioned state, Julia Martin’s body felt good on his. She hadn’t even been aware of what was happening, so deep was the Conditioning he had imposed on her. He did so because he was still far away from being able to create the delicate strands of submission and free will that Klaw and other older hands at Cain could. They could turn a feminine will inside out, leaving a woman at once vulnerable and at the same time quite consciously aware of her predicament.

From what he had experienced, he had more raw power than most of the other Cain men—Klaw excluded, of course—but the skill of it... that was a different matter. His friend and mentor had explained it to him after the meeting at Klaw had promoted him to Petersen’s position as HR Director:

“Never turn ‘em into zombies” Kendall had told him. “It’s about as much fun as playing a fixed game. Sure, you win—but when you look into their eyes, there’s no satisfaction, no lasting accomplishment. Use It lightly—like Klaw who’s a fucking artist—and you’ll enjoy it a thousand times more. Use it sparingly but with more skill and you get it all—the submission, the frustration, the surrender. They realize they can’t fight you—not the Conditioning mind you, but YOU. And then the game really gets interesting.

Have you noticed how some of the girls that have been Conditioned actually seem happy? How it permits them to do things they wouldn’t normally do? In a way, the Conditioning frees ‘em. Weird, huh? Of course, not all of them ever get used to It.”

Keith smirked as he recalled that conversation.

That was certainly true.

Especially with Julia. Despite the even, steady Conditioning of his new secretary, he knew she’d never be truly happy about it, not the way some of the other girls had come to be. In the first few days, he had allowed her a certain latitude as she adjusted to her new living situation; then the new dress code she was expected to follow; then the way she was expected to treat himself. At times, he caught her looking around like the proverbial deer in the headlights, as if trying to rouse herself out of a bad dream. But otherwise, she was quiet, efficient and even submitted to his groping and exploration as calmly as she might under the circumstances. And he often asked Miss Martin to join him for a spot of afternoon fun, a request Julia knew required her to strip down immediately to her bra and panties.

Not surprisingly, it was her work in which he found her weak spot. Julia Martin had always been a hard-driving, ambitious woman. Even with her reduced duties, tasks which required little of her intellectual acumen, Julia exerted herself, finding herself pursuing perfection in the letter which he dictated, the documents she was given to file, the records she organized. It was as if, through these menial chores, she could once again be the female executive she had only recently been. At first Keith had permitted her her zealousness. She was after all a bright woman. If he let her, she’d be happy to do even more important things. One day, she brought in a memo she had written for him to sign. It was a minor memo—more nuisance than anything, but one he normally would have dictated to her.

That was when he put his foot down.

“Julia, you are a secretary. Secretaries don’t write memos.” He tore it up, told her to fetch her memo pad and take his own version. As he brusquely outlined the memo he wanted sent out (truly little different than the one she had written herself), he watched the tears form in her eyes. Silently she returned a few minutes later, the memo ready for his signature. As he did so, she mumbled something.


“I was only trying to help,” Julia blurted out sullenly.

“I know what you were trying to do. Now put this memo out to Accounting and go fix your face.”

That had been the end of it. Since then she had been docile and ever more content to be touched by him. Not that she’d ever be reconciled to her fate. He was becoming sufficiently proficient at Conditioning to avoid that result. At most, she accepted her new status. That was fine. Keith didn’t want any more than that. Let her simmer if she wanted to, as she slipped out of her skirt and pulled off her blouse. Like it or not, she belonged to him now—and she knew it. He ought to spank her—he hadn’t done that yet.

The thought electrified him—proud Julia Martin over his knee like some naughty schoolgirl. Maybe it would raise the simmer to a boil, and then...

Keith shook his head, forcing his mind to return to the present. There was plenty of time for that later. The gate opened in answer to his infrared control and the Porsche climbed the two hundred yards up the drive to his new house. It was a huge place where he could spread out when he was home.

He climbed out of the car and walked up to the front door. “Honey, I’m home!” There was no answer. He walked through the living room, the parlour, the library—but only silence greeted him. Strange. Where was...

Clink... tink... clink...

Ah! The maid’s breast bells! He’d ask Chloe where her mistress was. He went out the back door and turned the corner toward the pool, where the bells’ tinkling had emanated. The sight he beheld at once angered, amused and excited him.

Both girls were in the back near the pool, but clearly domesticity wasn’t the nature of their intercourse. Cally...

No... he shook his head. It wasn’t Cally. Cally had been shipped off to a certain North African businessman to seal a deal. The man had attended a function held by Cain and had recognized Cally from her days in Paris. The man had requested her as consideration for the transaction and Klaw had agreed. Keith had been angry at first, but, after talking to Klaw, he had seen that it was for the best. Why be tied down to one woman when you could have any woman you wanted? In retrospect, his wish to marry Cally seemed... childish. Still, the hurt look on her face when she was told about the arrangement...

Keith shook his head, shedding the unwanted memory the way a duck sheds water. Klaw was right.

And, in any event, he had gone out and replaced Cally with Cindy, her younger sister. He had found the girl just before she graduated from her masters program in international relations. A little Conditioning convinced that girl that she’d much rather be Keith’s consort than an academic and...

Well, there she was. Cindy was spread luxuriantly back on a deck chair, her face swooning with heat and pleasure, her legs spread wide. Chloe, pressed into service as a maid after Julia had become Keith’s secretary, was on her knees before her mistress, busy worshipping her in the most intimate, oral fashion. As her head bobbed forward to service with tongue and mouth, the bright metal bells bounced gently off her small, pert breasts, emitting a darling tinkle-music to accompany the lesbian performance.


As Master of the House, he’d have some things to say about this!

He cleared his throat noisily and the two girls jumped away from each other, looking about in guilty panic.

Keith repressed a grin. “Giving Chloe pointers on dusting?”

Cindy’s expression was typically half-housebroken, half-bratty. There was a sauciness underneath that penitent pout that communicated a certain confidence that, as Keith’s pampered consort, she could get away with certain activities. Chloe was simply terrified, her blue eyes cast downward, hands feebly covering her sex. As a mere servant, she always expected punishment, even for transgressions she hadn’t committed. And while he was relatively lenient, he knew Cindy took a firm hand with the maid.

Poor thing. He was certain that Chloe had just been obeying her Mistress’s commands. After experimenting on her with his new-found Conditioning ability, Keith knew that the executive-cum-maid didn’t enjoy lesbian sex. But Cindy was another matter. Unbeknownst to her, he had unearthed that dirty little fantasy shortly after her initial Conditioning. He knew that she harbored long standing fantasies of lesbian sex. Evidently, Cindy had seen the opportunity with her new domestic and had taken the initiative herself. After all, Chloe was Conditioned to serve both Master AND Mistress. He had lain no strictures about how the maid might serve.

He frowned in mock anger. “So, what are you two up to? I can’t believe my eyes...”

Cindy tossed her blonde mane. “Oh Darling, really! You can’t believe what a tease she is! The way she...”

He knocked that objection out of the air with his hand. “Stop it! Please Cindy! I mean—with a maid? Really! I’ve a mind to take you over my knee—BOTH OF YOU—for such indecent behaviour!” He wasn’t much into the whips and chains of his friend Kendall, but by God, if a lesson needed to be taught, he would be a strict teacher!

Chloe’s bells tinkled as she shifted from foot to foot nervously, no doubt contemplating the possibility of punishment.

“Dearest, I get so lonely,” Cindy cooed, her lips pursed for a sexy kiss. She pouted now, the most lethal weapon of the moistened trophy wife. “Besides, Chloe’s got me all ready for you now.”

The dirty girl smile did it. And the prospect of taking Cindy now was appealing. But a lesson did need to be taught. “Fine,” he acknowledged, “but no more fun with Chloe...” he saw the grateful smile on the maid’s lips begin to rise. “...without my explicit permission.” The smile faded immediately. The maid WOULD be available to Mistress for such chores in the future, regardless of her own proclivities.

Cindy was pouting again. “I have to ASK? Pu-leez, Darling! Oh alright!”

She had won and she knew it. He was happy to give her such little victories. She was such a good little girl. And she did remind him so much of Cally. “Chloe, undress the Master,” she instructed in her most dismissive tone.

Keith let the maid take his coat and gently unbuckle his trousers. Soon he was as nude as the Mistress and the Maid. He pushed Chloe onto her back. “Open up Chloe.”

Chloe beamed as she obeyed. Cindy was miffed. “Fucking HER? That little flatchested piece of street trash—over ME?”

He entered the maid, who was bucking wildly already. Keith’s hand found the back of Cindy’s neck and drew it near to where he pumped himself in and out of Chloe. “Go ahead Cindy. Keep us wet. And never, ever think you may experiment with MY maid without MY permission.”

Cindy recognized the tone and knelt. Soon her licks against her husband’s shaft and the slick wet slit of her maid were part of the sexual orchestra of the afternoon. In her own pussy, a red throbbing drove her mad and she rubbed her breasts against her husband’s sex.

Keith gripped tightly and set the rhythm, one that would take them through the afternoon—or until he became bored. He was enjoying the ride—but the journey had only just begun.