The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It was noon in the Cutler mansion and of course Evan was still in bed, glaring at his wiry young maid, Chloe, that had drawn the curtains open to the large nine foot window of the master bedroom.

“So sorry, Sir, but you did tell me to wake you up at twelve today,” Chloe affirmed, walking over to his closet to prepare his wardrobe for the day.

Evan rubbed his well-groomed five o’clock shadow and groaned, “...Serena home, yet?”

“The Madam hasn’t come in, but I heard from her chauffer that she is on her way.” Chloe pulled out a simple white-collared shirt, an undershirt and Evan’s blue-grey tailored suit pants and draped them at the end of the large bed. “Can I do anything else for you before I go downstairs to prepare lunch, Sir?”

At first, Evan sincerely thought about asking for a quickie, but then remembered that Chloe was specifically hired by Serena as their no-nonsense employee...among other reasons. Before her, their staff hardly ever got any cleaning done and had to be replaced regularly due to misbehavior that was likely brought on by the Cutlers’ enabling.

“No,” he sighed, disappointed. “That’ll be all, Chloe.”

Chloe bowed slightly before briskly taking her leave. Staggering up from the bed, Evan yawned inelegantly and took stock of the clothing Chloe had lain out for him. She’d forgotten to pick out a pair of boxer briefs for him… again. Evan always slept in the nude and if he could, he’d be naked all day. His favorite time of the year was when the staff went home for the holidays so he and Serena could strut the halls in their birthday suits. He was proud of his large, muscular form and didn’t enjoy having to hide it.

He fumbled for a pair of underwear from the hand-carved redwood wardrobe and began donning his outfit for the day—making a point to keep himself looking somewhat disheveled. Evan tied his shoulder-length brown hair up in a messy man bun above the nape of his neck and made his way to his office, still barefoot and yawning.

The size of the Cutler mansion was well adorned by deep blues and greens—Serena’s favorite colors—white shimmering marbles floors, redwood furniture and golden fixtures. Serena had a collection of sizeable dark and subtly seductive paintings from her favorite artist, Gregoir Moiré, which usually featured a voyeuristic view of various nude couples painted with soft, ambiguous, textured strokes that served to leave the lover’s interactions to the viewer’s imagination. Evan wasn’t a big fan of the artwork; he’d have preferred it if he could see the breasts, asses and genitals of the figures.

Evan’s office opened automatically as he approached. It was decorated by handmade blue leather chairs, dark wood furnishings, including two colossal bookshelves on either side of the room, and a old tiger rug he had inherited from his grandfather. Serena was concerned that she had taken over the decoration of the mansion a little too much, and wanted a room for Evan to feel at home in. All the same, Evan ended up asking her to do it for him. He just didn’t have her eye for these things and frankly he didn’t enjoy the task.

As he reclined into his throne-like desk chair, Evan opened his laptop to deal with his e-mail and play his heavy metal songs. Serena and Evan Cutler were CEO and Co-CEO of their own company, Dionysus Pharmaceuticals. Their main products were specifically made for recreational use—a more eloquent way of describing party drugs. Serena made a point to Evan early on that she would never sell a drug that was specifically made to be addictive or had any negative side-effects, which proved to help them establish themselves as an organization of integrity to some circles. Some states and countries still outlawed their products but they were slowly but surely becoming more accepted in the eyes of the public. This was mostly because their products were meant to enhance the sex lives of others which included pills that were certified to make a man’s penis grow larger, balms that temporarily or permanently inflated breast size, and cheap, easy-to-use injections that supported the growth of muscles in the ass during exercise that weren’t related to steroids. However, Evan and Serena’s main projects were always the underground psychedelic drugs that made sex a far more memorable and… intriguing experience. They’ve even helped some struggling asexuals orgasm for their first time, not that they had anything against those that were simply uninterested in intercourse.

Evan was responding to an email about a prototype psychedelic that was being sent to the mansion when the doors to his office opened. Serena came rushing up to his deskside, still in her old makeup and gown from the night before. He wasn’t always able to pick up on the subtleties of Serena’s emotions but she was clearly upset at that moment.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, shutting his laptop.

Serena shook her head, flustered, “I need your help, Ev...”

Seven of the fifteen Devotees sat in their usual line in the downstairs dressing room of the Red Room. Several make-up artists and hairstylists had been hired to make them look their best before the event in the evening. They currently all had their collars off with exception to Devotee 15, who the girls were told had a fetish for bondage. The beautiful women chatted amongst themselves merrily while they sat patiently.

Fenwall was pacing back and forth, examining the cosmetic progress being made on the Devotees. He was always nit-picky about these things and insisted on having a heavy hand in every visual project he took on. Every so often he’d bark commands to the workers tending to the women.

Devotee 15 had a barber carefully clipping and styling his hair while a woman padded his face with concealer to hide his natural redness and shine. Unlike the other Devotees he stared straight ahead, completely unresponsive to the world around him. Someone had wrapped a towel around his waist at some point to give him some dignity—not that he had much left.

“He has such clear skin. They all do, really, but he doesn’t even have any pores showing,” she stated as she gently patted his cheek with her brush.

Trying to hold back a sneer, Fenwall ended up smirking toward the woman. “He closes them out with cold water in the morning, so I wouldn’t be surprised.” He strolled over to critique the progress the hairstylist was making. Devotee 15’s corn-colored locks were being swept to the side with gel, giving him a rather dapper appearance. The make-up artist and barber took a step back, looking to Fenwall expectantly. He nodded approvingly, “Very good. He’s ready for costuming.”

Fenwall snapped his fingers and a tuxedoed female guard rushed over, taking Devotee 15’s arm and guiding him a podium on the far side of the room. The other Devotees tried to catch a few sideways glances towards him as Fenwall lead the guard and 15 toward the other end of the dressing room.

15 tried to listen in on their conversations as he passed the women by. Their gossiping was one of his only forms of entertainment these days—even if it involved negative rumors about him.

“Are you sure he’s Fenwall’s butt-buddy?”

“Hell no, Fenwall only goes for women.”

“That you KNOW of. He could be closeted.”

“Either way, 15 gets way more guy patrons than women. Even if Fenwall isn’t into dudes, he totally is.”

The tuxedoed guard lead 15 up onto the round platform where a male costume designer waited patiently by a rack of costumes. He pulled out three different tailored three-piece suits and presented them to Fenwall to deliberate over. Devotee 15 could see his own reflection in the tall mirrors that circled around his tense, unmoving form. He could vaguely remember feeling ridiculous standing there like a dress-up doll sometime ago, but he had since become relatively desensitized to everything. Well… almost everything. Fenwall tore off his towel, exposing him to the room as the tailor made his way up the podium, holding out some red silk boxer briefs.

“Put these on, if you don’t mind,” the tailor requested.

Fenwall nodded to 15. “Do as he says.”

Devotee 15 did as he was told and continued to mechanically try on outfits until Fenwall was finally pleased with a matching crimson jacket, a velvet black waistcoat and matching red dress pants. The tailor completed the ensemble with shiny black dress shoes, black leather gloves and a shimmering crimson tie that he made sure to place carefully beneath his metal collar.

“Perfect,” Fenwall confirmed, “get the girls their collars before dressing them—I’ll take Devotee 15 to rehearsal, myself. Come follow.”

No matter how many times Devotee 15 was taken somewhere alone with Fenwall, a creeping feeling of dread always came over him. His begged his traitorous body for mercy as he stepped down from the podium and shadowed Fenwall outside of the dressing room. He felt himself start to pant and shake in fear as he closed the door behind them.

Fenwall smirked over his shoulder towards 15 as he lead him down a long hallway. “Nothing to worry about right now, ‘Devotee’. My schedule is too full to play with you. Now tell me, how was your time with Serena Cutler? She seemed very interested in you after your little meeting.”

“It was very pleasant,” Devotee 15 affirmed robotically. “She’s...stunning.” He felt himself blush slightly, grateful for the concealer on his face.

He grunted in disapproval. “I was hoping they’d set her up with one of the women instead.” Fenwall frowned. “She and her husband normally prefer girls but you seemed to have left an impression on her.”

Devotee 15 felt his heart flutter a little when Fenwall said that.

“You’ll be the main entertainment for her and her husband this evening, so I expect you to perform perfectly,” Fenwall pressed. “You’re not permitted to sleep again until they’re both ‘satisfied’. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Master,” 15 felt himself reflexively spout.

“Good.” Fenwall opened a door at the end of the long hallway, pressing his palm against Devotee 15’s back to direct him into the main room.

“I’m sorry, Serena, I believe you but I don’t see how a collar can completely control a person’s mind.” Evan’s undexterous fingers stumbled over his white bow tie as he tried to make himself presentable for the evening. “It sounds like science fiction.”

Noticing Evan’s struggle, Serena quickly finished her eye shadow and walked over to assist him. “You’ll just have to see it for yourself. It was utterly heartbreaking.”

After Serena finished tying his tie, Evan took a look at himself in the mirror, slightly grimacing over his cleaned-up look. “Like I said, I believe you. You know, if done right those collars could make sex pretty interesting.” He smiled mischievously over to her.

“I thought that at first, but it felt like I was about to rape the poor thing.” Serena crossed her arms and shivered. “I feel so dirty just thinking about it.”

Seeing her disconcerted, Evan pulled her close and stroked her neck, careful not to undo the hard work she’d done curling to make her hair look so nice. “We’ll figure this out.” He bent down to her level and gave a long, loving kiss before pulling away and whispering, “I promise.”

Serena nodded, lightly smacked her cheeks and strode with newfound confidence toward the bedroom door. “I’ll be waiting in the limo. And, Ev?”

“Yeah?”

“You look nice in a tux.” She winked and took her leave.

Evan pouted, adjusting his tightened collar in frustration.

A blizzard had broken out over the Red Room’s entrance. The red-suited bouncers, though cold and miserable, remained at attention—carefully observing the VIP patrons that continued to pour in from the frigid street.

The Cutler’s limo pulled in and a host quickly ran up to the side to open the car door for the couple. Evan and Serena tipped the man before slowly and gracefully making their way toward the looming crimson entryway. A guard on the right approached them.

“Mrs. and Mr. Cutler, congratulations for your new upgrade to VIP status and your wedding anniversary. I’m to let you both know that tonight’s event is free to both of you as thanks for your continuing patronage.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Evan blurted, inelegantly.

“How lovely of Mr. Fenwall.” Serena slid her arm under his, beaming up to him. “We’re looking forward to see what he has in store for us, tonight.”

“We hope you enjoy yourselves,” the bouncer said as he opened the door for them, “Have a wonderful evening.”

Evan and Serena walked through the security gate without issue, and after their coats were taken, they were lead to the main room where a group of nearly one hundred people stood around the Central stage, chatting and laughing amongst themselves. The gambling tables and machines strewn throughout the room had all been closed or turned off. Although they recognized many of these people as cream of the crop, neither had gotten to know any other patrons to The Red Room in all the time they’d visited there, and they had no urge to get chummy with anyone now. They walked toward a quieter side of the stage and took in their surroundings. There was no sign of Fenwall or Devotee 15, but plenty of security guards walked the floor. Evan pressed his palm against Serena’s lower back and took a step closer to her, protectively.

Their attention was suddenly brought to the stage when the lights of the room were redirected and fog began to spew from its center. Fenwall appeared from a trapdoor in the middle of the platform, holding a microphone and smiling out towards the crowd with his usual goatee-adorned grin.

“Mademoiselles and Monsieurs! As you all know, I am Thomas Fenwall, proprietor and lead visionary of the Red Room, and I am so pleased to be hosting everyone this evening. Tonight we celebrate you, our VIP members, as thanks for your continued patronage. It is because if you that The Red Room has become the success it is today.”

“Now, I won’t hold back the festivities for much longer, but I would like to honor two special guests who are here in celebration of their wedding anniversary.” A spotlight pointed down over Evan and Serena, revealing them to the rest of the crowd. With a flourish, Fenwall outstretched his hand towards the couple, “Mr. and Mrs. Cutler, this night is dedicated to you!”

With a flash, Fenwall had disappeared and the spotlight was taken off of the Cutler couple. A small jazz band had taken his place in the center and all around the edge of the stage, seven Devotees stood with their arms outstretched towards the party at equal distances around the stage. The women were dressed in matching red leotards, each with a long train of deep red feathers. Their legs were accentuated by fishnet stockings, bright red stiletto heels, and garter belts. Each wore their signature metal collars. Devotee 15 stood with his arm pointing to Evan and Serena, spotlighting them with his handsome smile. He held up a microphone to his lips and began to expertly sing a more modern version of Frank Sinatra’s The Way You Look Tonight.

“Somedayyy, when I’m awfully low...” The stage began to spin slowly, and the female Devotees twirled in place. “When the world is cold...” The girls began to kick up their legs, dancing seductively for the crowd. “I will feel a glow just thinking of youuu...“The band suddenly stopped playing for a moment, and Devotee 15 winked toward the congregation. “And the way you look toniiight!”

The music switched abruptly to electro-swing and seven long stripper poles began to lift up from directly behind each of the Devotees. They each circled the poles—with Devotee 15 handing his microphone to a band member—and in one violent, synchronized motion, removed their outfits and threw them into the now screaming, whooping horde. 15 was the only one to take of his shoes as each of the dancers took a hold on to the elevating posts, allowing themselves to be carried upward above the podium. A red spotlight illuminated over each of them as the Devotees continued to move in tandem to the music, pivoting their bodies in one long, alluring pattern.

Serena cupped her hand over her mouth in both awe and concern at the performance, while Evan squinted inquisitively toward the collars on the dancers’ necks. A faint green glow at the front of the metal rings could be seen through the bright red lighting. He had to get a closer look.

As the dance continued, 15 felt his body burning to the energetic motions. He tried to search for Serena through the crowd, having been so elated to see her return but his head and body fought against him, whipping and spinning as he gyrated and twirled around the pole without touching the ground. 15 tried to take solace in the knowledge that he’d see her after the show, but knew it would be a tormenting experience.

“Suffer...” he whispered spitefully to himself as he looked to the floor upside-down from atop the steel post, sweat dripping from his forehead. “Suffer.”

Finally, all of the strippers spun down from their respective poles, and in an enthralling, hypnotizing dance, removed their underwear for the crowd. The music abruptly ended with the sound of a bass drum, and the lights from the stage suddenly switched off. When they turned back on, each of the Devotees were standing at attention, nude in front of their posts with the band having seemingly disappeared. The congregation cheered uproariously and staff on the floor began breaching the masses, making space for other employees to move seven sets of stairs and long tables to the stage. The Cutlers watched as Devotee 15 and the other performers mechanically descended the stage and laid themselves out on the tables provided. People who resembled chefs had begun quickly placing something all across their bodies.

Fenwall suddenly appeared behind the couple, placing a hand on each of their shoulders, surprising them both, “Mademoiselle and Monsieur, you may have the first bite.” He nodded to Devotee 15’s table.

The couple made their way over to the tableside and looked down at 15. Sushi rolls had been placed all across his arms, legs, torso and hard, dripping penis. He was breathing heavily with his eyes half-shut either from arousal, exhaustion or both.

Evan took a glance of his wife’s face, which smiled warily down to the young man. Sensing her hesitation, he quickly moved for a California roll that had been placed on the Devotee’s upper thigh and popped it in his mouth. 15’s glazed eyes opened wide as he watched Evan devour the roll and he let out an involuntary moan, his body shivering in what could only be perceived as utter pleasure as the other platters threatened to topple from his form. Serena did her best to hide her worry as she plucked a dragon roll of the tip of his cock and took a slow, seductive bite, feeling Fenwall’s watching eyes. This time, 15’s groin thrusted forward, a few stray rolls falling to the table as he followed her motions wide-eyed and enthralled. He gasped audibly in arousal and a string of drool had begun to develop on the right side of his lips. She took another bite and his eyes rolled to the back of his head in ecstacy before gazing up at her lustfully once more, still panting.

“Dinner is served!” Fenwall called out and the patrons began circling the Devotees like vultures to carrion.

As the Cutlers were surrounded, Evan took the cover from the crowd as an opening to examine the metal collar wrapped around Devotee 15’s throat. It was a bit of a struggle to reach for his neck as 15 bucked, thrashed and moaned from the other patrons grabbing, feeling, and molesting his exposed anatomy, but Evan managed to get a firm grip on the steel ring and was able to hold the Devotee’s head steady. He stared deep into the green light of the collar and tried to make sense of that had bewitched the young man. He had hoped to see some form of liquid in the collar to prove it was a drug of some sort, but was unable to find any sign of this. Puzzled, he found himself looking into 15’s sensual stare. Judging by the pattern Devotee 15 had previously shown when the Cutlers ate from his body, he probably should have been looking to the other patrons as they feasted from his form. Instead, 15 never stopped looking towards Evan, tears of either ecstasy or desperation streaming down his face. Evan felt himself catch his breath at this observation and like a deer in the headlights he was paralyzed by the powerful gaze.

Unfortunately for Serena, the unrestrained herd of people had overwhelmed her and she was shoved away from Evan and 15. She thought about trying to go back but took a look at the other tables, instead. The female Devotees were in the same situation 15 was in—moaning, gasping, thrashing and sometimes screaming in ecstasy from the groping hands. Some patrons had even taken to kissing and licking the Devotees’ shuddering frames. Although she was taken aback by the wantonness of it all, Serena couldn’t help but admit she was incredibly aroused by the scenes before her. Serena jumped in surprise as she felt a familiar hand rest on her shoulder.

“Oh dear, the crowds got to you, hm?” Fenwall empathized.

“Ah, well, it’s alright, Mr. Fenwall. Evan is still enjoying himself and that’s all that matters to me.” Serena cocked her head, feigning frustration. “I had hoped we’d be able to have some privacy with Devotee 15 tonight, though. Neither Evan nor I really enjoy... mass-orgies.”

Fenwall grinned down to her, nodding. “In that case you’ll be happy to know that we have kept your favorite suite open for the three of you after this portion of the evening.” He took her hand and placed a key card into her palm. “Ask any staff member to take you to the lobby downstairs, and I’ll have him prepared for you both to enjoy.”

Serena clutched the card to her chest, smiling sweetly toward him, “This is so wonderful. Thank you, Mr. Fenwall. I’ll let Evan know… as soon as I can get to him, again.”

Nodding once more, Fenwall stepped away from Serena. “I wish you luck with that, you’re going to need it!” He laughed lightly. “I’ve other things to take care of, Mademoiselle. I do hope you continue to enjoy your evening.”

“Thank you,” she said, observing him walk away for a moment before turning her attention back to Devotee 15’s table.

Mr. Cutler hadn’t left 15’s side in spite of the ravenous horde that surrounded them. In an attempt to get closer to 15, a woman to Evan’s right side elbowed him hard in the gut and made him double over, almost falling on top of the Devotee’s flailing physique. Devotee 15 found himself simultaneously experiencing amazing pleasure and great agony as he was continuously fondled. The Devotees had all been programmed by Fenwall to have their arousal and lust increase exponentially as they were constantly touched, molested, and feasted from while also having their ability to orgasm grow further and further out of reach. His dick was throbbing painfully and had turned purple with urgency, precum spewing from his stomach onto the table below, with patrons using it as a dipping sauce for their sushi rolls. Some appeared genuinely delighted to literally dine on his suffering. Finally there was no more food on his body, and he could feel the unwanted petting of men and women stroking, tickling, licking and kissing in all the crevices of his vulnerable form. He started laughing and sobbing while falling into madness, tears and drool streaming down his face as he did everything he could to look to Evan, quietly begging him to make it all stop...

He’d even be happy with a merciful death.

Suddenly, Serena gripped the well-made hair of the woman that had elbowed Evan, and pulled her away from the table, taking her place. She whispered something to Evan and left the crowd once more, another woman rushing in to grope at 15’s chest. As she left, 15 felt his heart start to sink before Evan’s handsome face moved close to the Devotee’s ear, his warm breath sending pleasurable shivers down the young man’s spine.

“You’ll be alright, soon. She’s getting a room for us,” Evan whispered, assuring him. He started to move away from the writhing man.

In one willful motion, 15 gripped the cuff of Evan’s tux and they stared at one another for what felt like ages. “Thank… you...” It had been the first time Devotee 15 was able to speak with his own words in eons. He wondered if he had to thank the insanity of the room for it, or the Cutlers’ presence, or both.

Evan nodded, gingerly removing 15’s clinging fingers, making the man moan in compulsion, and began roughly shoving his way through the crowd. Once outside of the hysteria surrounding the Devotee, he made his way towards Serena, adjusting his tie and coat from all the man-handling he received while fighting to stay by 15’s side.

“Here he is,” Serena assured a tuxedoed guard, “Fenwall told me that you’d let us into our suite.” She flashed a black keyboard at the man.

The oaf shrugged and silently gestured for the couple to follow him down to the lobby beneath The Red Room. It was all Serena and Evan could do to prevent themselves from looking over their shoulders toward the manic hordes of patrons one last time before descending to the Red Room’s basement.