The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I felt his dick inside my mind. Deep penetrating. Painful like a virgin penetration (which in a way it was) having never been mind fucked, taken, used, been born again. I gasped, I twitched, I screamed while he creamed. I had a seizure of pleasure that ran straight through my pussy and redlined up my spine to my waiting quivering oxygen starved brain. His warm thoughts oozing into each physical and mental orifice, each wrinkle which represented the thoughts I had thought in my unimportant lifetime covered, smothered, lost, asfixiated. Smoothing them, replacing them, filling the gaps with... him. Filling me with his salty purpose. All of me with a salty reality. His reality, his thoughts. A return to the primal sea from which all life sprang. He was Adam and I his subjugated slave girl Eve in the damp eden of his underworld basement What I should be, was destined to be, had failed to be until...now...now...make me cum now. I scream into the darkness, at the edge of the sea, felt and feel it’s briny spray, begged and beg him to rape my thoughts, make me his plaything. The thing I had secretly always wanted to be. Take me... to the place where slaves are born and I could truly be free. I had been shown the light at the beginning of all things that really mattered and praise the lord I was his slut, his slave, his toy, his primordial plaything. Brain freeze, epiphany, first time awareness, loss, lost, long loving spinal mental strokes, nerves tingling and afire with desire, purpose in a meaningless mixed up modern world that fades in water. Heat. I had to but obey and the sea and the heat were forever mine, and I his, drifting like wood, or creatures too small to resist the current, to serve. The chains thrown to me as the tide takes me out, under, in it’s undertow, are my only lifesavers. I grab at them, desperately, I am drowning in the sea of man/master. I cannot imagine swimming against it or the chains. It is a place I have and long to be.

Thank you for the bindings (in my imagination a thousand tentacles of seaweed grasping, wrapping, blindly flailing, rendering helpless). Surrender to the inevitable. Lungs like mind flooded with something alien but somehow right. And oh, those sweet heavy unrelenting chains of freedom, life, and reason, dragging me down, Ball gags (keeping in, keeping out) dripping like my pussy, whispering, mumbling, incoherent watery things. I, giving freely only what HE, my master demands. He has bottled up my screams....of pleasure, like a message in an undiscovered securely corked bottle cast desperately into the sea by someone lost, desperate, seeking rescue as I have been rescued from myself and made anew, rescued. Rescued from the island I was in my ignorance. Now I see. Now I am free. Free to be, to serve, to realize all my potential. I realize that no man or woman truly is an island unless they have made themselves so with other chains, of choice and free will.

I distantly hear the far off sounds of other violations, other shores where his will washes over my own and incoming unstoppable tide, newly surrendered territory he has conquered and I have surrendered freely. As freely as one can a place not built for surrender but none the less taken by force. A soldier all in rubber is the first man into the breach, onto this forsaken beach. He is greasy and slimy like the sea from which he has come, fresh from the battle, but never the less enthusiastically plants his flag deep in the brown earth. How he has come to be here is unimportant. All that matters is that he came and is forever welcome as a liberator. I anoint him king with such fluids and gratitude as is at hand. So little tribute for one so powerful, one so deserving. My independence is banished gratefully to the dungeon, where we will play with all the toys and it will watch forlorn. He has promised. And I will earn the privileges there to be had if I am “good enough” to deserve them. She will never see daylight again and I feel... sadness for her. She does not see, does not know, cannot ever experience slavery. She was brainwashed from the earliest age to believe false things, worship at the altar of the false god feminism, and if necessary be a martyr to that ignominious cause. Surrendered her right to serve as blindly instructed. So... I am sad and sorry for her. That she can never feel the freedom and the spray of the sea and slavery on her warm heaving breasts, running down her sides, trickling tantalizingly along her inner thigh, on her face where she can smile and lap at the glistening pleasure of the primordial until she is full and satisfied. Sadly she will likely not survive being set free, but I will remember her sadly and honor her memories as what came before our ultimate liberation. Her delusions of freedom and happiness will serve to give me something against which I can measure and even gauge my true eternal happiness, slavery, total mastery of myself.

I am prostrate at his feet. For the moment he is done with me. He has left me ravaged and storm tossed. The sea is a harsh mistress but even harsher master. He is driven by something other than the cycles of the moon, something wonderfully darker. Standing there, over me he blots out the sun like some colossus or personal Caligula as he simply observes his work approvingly. He has molded me in his likeness, made me so much more then I had been before. I want to thank him and grovel. I try. I am too exhausted to do anything but silently pray I am his favorite beach. I breathlessly beg forgiveness for having ever doubted or resisted, and my continuing inadequacies. I sacrifice myself on the altars of the only true god by the sea, the master I have denied myself my whole life, the one who is the sea I will forever drown in and be replenished by. The giver of (the seed of) life, and valuable salt. One NEEDS protein and mineral to live. The FDA and the nutrition council expound their value, their necessity constantly in press and print and on T.V. where much of what IS reality originates. I have been given...silvery glistening sweet life many many times, in many different ways. I take them all gratefully. He gives and I receive. I give and he receives my meager offerings of sex and myself. All the time I am left alone to be punished for my imperfection I am left to wonder... Why did it take me so long to come to my senses, to find the way, and serve the truth of my nature? I ponder, I cry, and then... I know. It was HER. SHE, the prisoner who held me prisoner for so long is responsible, held us back, made us over in the image of other women we were told/ misdirected to believe were truly free to compete with their potential masters, their superiors, the only living beings who could make them happy, satisfied, fulfilled. I should hate her. But still, I feel sorry for her and everyone else deluded like her instead. She is not to be hated but pitied. She did not know, could not know, have known what was kept secret from her by those who were equally ignorant by a secret society for the perpetuation of ignorance! And now? She can only suffer and squeal in her chains, her silence, for our masters merciless enjoyment. I cannot hope to know his will, but I can guess from experience that he will doubtless drag her from her prison for our mutual amusement from time to time, to remind her that she will be a prisoner forever, and to remind me of his wonderful absolute power. Not that I need to be reminded, unless I am truly bad. It is his way. I am reminded.

And together, we will no doubt listen (many times over many years) to her cries of defiled anguish, her reeling pointless epithets and empty puritanical/ Victorian motivated inbred totally pre-programmed threats, her terror stricken screams for help that will be silenced with a word and nothing but his sheer indomitable will. And when it is over..? I will be there. Passive. Waiting. Serving, as I always should have been were it not for her /me / all of THEM who kept me “safe”, and always will be, to show him how well I have learned, earned my place, and serve, as I always hope to... and will.

As I daydream he comes for me again, and I cum for him, practically perfectly on command. He smiles. I have done and will do well. No more time to daydream silly daydreams, I stop.... And my imagined audience fades away.