The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

As our little group grew steadily over the next year or so, things at home continued to change and Anjika exerted her authority more and more. The next new girl was an illegal immigrant; prita-slave informed Mistress that one of the shadier fast-food outlets in town was due to be raided by Border Force, ably assisted by the local constabulary. Mistress Anjika smiled happily and instructed me to organise a raid of our own a few minutes before closing time on the night before the planned Border Force visit.

We went in via the back door and under the cover of smoke and a couple of well placed stun-grenades, were able to get away with three very shocked and terrified Asian girls. When the police eventually arrived to investigate the flashes and bangs they were told that it was only ‘fire-works’ and which had been ‘for somebody’s birthday’. Well they didn’t dare complain and probably chalked our activities up to a raid by a rival Snake-Head gang.

The three attractive Chinese girls all spoke English, so after receiving a medical check-up, were thoroughly conditioned. Mistress Anjika selected the prettiest and decided to sell the other two on. Mistress Wendy organised the sale although she was clearly not happy about it despite her twenty per cent cut of the £40,000 sale price.

At seventeen years old, Kao Lien was the youngest of Mistress’s slaves but never the less fitted in well, although Mistress decided to rename the girl. ‘Lien’, her given name, was wiped from her memory and she was renamed as ‘Lynn’; or rather, ‘slave-lynn’, as her new collar read. she underwent the usual breast enhancement but at only five foot tall and weighing a mere eight stone, her new DD’s looked positively massive. However Mistress liked them so nothing else really matters does it?

About a fortnight after lynn became my new slave-sister the next change occurred: this time to our slave-clothing. i had just arrived home from work and shed my real-world personality along with my out-door clothing. However when i lifted my crotch-piece off the rack i received a surprise as the one that i held was quite new and was no longer just moulded to gently cup my mound and pussy. This one had two fat dildos protruding from its inside although, thoughtfully, a new bottle of lube had been placed on the shelf beside it.

After i had worked the intruders into my holes i fastened the clips which forced them in even further. i would be lying if i claimed that it wasn’t a stretch to accommodate them—particularly the one that more than filled my arse-hole!. i would also be lying if i said that i didn’t have to adopt a new way of walking: and yes, short steps were the definitely the easiest. i don’t know how i looked but it was a real treat to watch my slave-sisters as they tripped along, their arses seductively swinging from side to side. We all had these new item of clothing, although the anal dildo built into fiona’s was particularly large as it had to replace her butt-plug.

The contract-conversions continued steadily: i preferred this to going out and snatching girls because it entailed much less risk for Mistress. i was Her designated controller and it was my duty to keep Her safe. There were three women processed during the next six months, two were the fairly standard enslavement of daughters and except for their mothers’ motives, they were identical to what was carried out last year. Okay, so having said that, i suppose that i had better explain.

The first of the girls was a straight twenty year blonde who was conditioned simply because her mother had been unable to seduce her, despite having tried many times. Not only had the seduction attempts failed, but the daughter was about to walk out in disgust which was more than the mother could stand. Thanks to us, her daughter would never dream of leaving her now.

The next was slightly different in that it was a stepdaughter who was processed and ‘mum’ intended to share the new slave with her own daughters. The circumstances were vague: it had been a mixed-race marriage, common enough in the UK these days, but the husband seemed to have mysteriously vanished. The wife; losing patience with her step-daughter’s accusations and abuse, some of it racial, had decided to take the girl in hand and quite fancied the idea owning a white slave-girl. What she didn’t realise at the time was that possessing slaves is highly addictive. As a result it was less than four months before her own daughters were occupying couches in our basement.

The third enslavement was different for it was the mother who we converted. She had never come to terms with her daughter being gay and had continued to bully and nag her about it. The daughter, now in her late twenties, was only eighteen years younger than her mum and had recently come into some money as a result of an inheritance. She had a very good career as a solicitor and had just passed her exams to become a barrister so was definitely on the way up. This also left her needing someone to keep house for her and being sexually active, she had just about reached the limit of her patience regarding maternal insults and criticism. The inheritance was enough to allow her to solve all of her problems at a stroke and still pay off the mortgage remaining on what had been the family home. It worked too and the daughter was happy because the bulk of the stresses had been removed from her life at a stroke. Her mother likewise for she realised that becoming her daughter’s slave and lesbian sex-toy was the best thing that had ever happened to her—well that’s brainwashing for you, it makes everyone happy, or at least it makes them think that they are.

During this period, Mistress and i made a number of visits to our old University. She had several reasons besides nostalgia and visiting Her old tutor was one of them. Dr Dryden, it turns out, was now the head of the psychology department within the Faculty of Science and was definitely making the most of her success. Although my Mistress was there primarily for discussions with Mistress Wendy She was introduced to several other women as it seemed that She was being considered for membership of an informal group of Lesbian Slavers known as The Circle: actually the group didn’t officially exist, but what the hell? It seemed real enough to me.

i tagged along when She was introduced to a couple of other members: Margaret Baxter was first, she was a Psychiatrist, and an eminent one apparently. She lectured at the Medical School that was part of the University where she also served as a tutor to the medical students. The next one was a vivacious Indian woman; Dr Shefali Dahwan, a lecturer in the Biology of the Brain and Behaviour, i doubt if you remember me saying so, but i have this thing about Indian woman, and she was stunning! The other woman was very tall with long honey-blonde hair and a come-fuck-me figure to die for. She was introduced as Helena Yorke and was a Merchant Banker: she said nothing to me and very little to my Mistress but it was very obvious that a very able brain lurked behind her beautiful face.

Although they largely ignored me, i was Mistress’s property after all, being in the presence of these powerful women was enough to make my pussy twitch and dribble into my panties.

They were talking between themselves while i sat to one side and although ignored i listened non-the-less. The funny thing is, i was quite content to do just that and it wasn’t until that little shard of my past life surfaced later in the day and pointed out that i was becoming completely submissive, so much so that i even realised how much i had been changed.

The Circle, it turned out, was a sort of mutual-aid and self-protection society... The world is against lesbians in general and Lesbian Slavers in particular, so the Mistresses had banded together, quite informally, to watch each other’s backs and to provide each other with aid and assistance when necessary. This non-existent club was known as The Circle. The group was not exactly approving as far as my Mistress was concerned: they seemed to consider Her a danger because She was too reckless. However they did offer Her ‘advice’ on how She should conduct Her affairs.

As i drove Her home, She was fuming quietly. “Who the hell are they to tell me what to do?”

“You should be more careful, Mistress, there are the authorities to consider.” i interjected as i was programmed to protect her as well as administer my slave-sisters.

“What the fuck?” She suddenly thundered. “You belong to me, not to those bitches, so shut your gob, slave, and forget it!”

She had never spoken to me like that before but She was right about a couple of things: i was a slave and i did belong to Her. If She wished to speak to me in that way then it was fine as far as i was concerned so i did as She instructed. Oddly enough the instruction resulted in all of my worries regarding Her safety just trickling away leaving me feeling serene and contented.

It was a week or so after Her confrontation with members of The Circle that the next change was instigated and once again it was rebecca that went onto the couch and although the mental reorientation was minor, the reprogramming took the best part of a whole Saturday. Remember when i said that i couldn’t imagine who would want a silly, giggly, air-headed snowflake? Well i now had my answer, Mistress did!

After her latest session the differences between rebecca’s real-world personality and her slave-persona became marked. When dressed in real-world clothes she was highly intelligent, incisive and able: the archetypal career woman. But, now, when she removed her work clothes she also seemed to leave most of her IQ in her wardrobe with them. Real-world Rebecca was bright but slave-rebecca was indeed a classic blonde bimbo. The fact that both personalities could occupy the same body in turn and without conflict was a measure of just how powerful the system down in the basement actually was.

It was pointless to even try to hold any sort of meaningful conversation with slave-rebecca as her response to everything was to giggle, frown and answer in words of one syllable. Mistress found this to be endearing so as long as She was happy, nothing else mattered.

Christmas came and went and everything at home was perfect until that is, Mistress brought a couple of girls home one Sunday. The stated reason for the trip had been to visit Mistress Margaret, the Psychiatrist who lived a few minutes away from Ludlow University and to once again discuss the possibility of being admitted to The Circle. Mistress Anjika it seems had other ideas for even though I didn’t accompany Her: four other slaves, including Prita did however they had remained in the car while the two Mistresses met.

Mistress looked very pleased with herself as the two drugged girls were unloaded from the Audi’s boot, hustled in from the garage and taken straight down to the basement where they were stripped and then strapped onto couches.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” She enthused as She stroked and fondled their bodies. Seeing Her so happy made me happy too.

“Oh yes, Mistress, they will make fine additions to your coterie. How was your meeting regarding The Circle?” i don’t know why i brought it up. Nagging doubts regarding Her safety, i suppose.

Her whole attitude changed. “Who needs those stuck-up bitches? Fuck the lot of them; I’m better off on my own!” She shouted but then She mellowed, grabbed me and kissed me passionately. “I’ve got you, my darling Siobhan, so what other support could I possibly need?”

From this i gathered that things might not have gone too well.

She turned back to the new girls and personally inserted the dildos into their pussies and arseholes causing them to give little confused moans. “Aren’t they fantastic? We came back through the University campus, and they were just sort of standing around in some dark, secluded corner. I just couldn’t resist them! I might sell the blonde, but this little red-head is here to stay!”

And that’s how Imogen Parkes became slave-imogen. She soon went up to the clinic and acquired the usual enhancements that Mistress insisted on. As she had rich coppery-red hair and not my sandy-red she wasn’t turned into a carbon-copy of Emily and me: but Mistress loved her non-the-less and she spent her first week with us being continuously fucked. Her friend, Anna Porter, did indeed become slave-anna for a time but Mistress didn’t really take to her. So despite the new DD’s suiting her far more than they did her friend because she was 5′9″ and well-built, Mistress eventually decided that she should be sold.

Anjika really did take to slave-imogen, however and had her conditioned with an oral-sex fixation. She even went on-line and bought a queening stool which is like a three sided box with a hole cut in the padded seat. When a slave, usually imogen, was instructed to lay on the floor the stool would be placed over her head and Anjika would sit on it so that Her pussy pressed lightly against the girl’s mouth without putting any pressure on her face or risking suffocation. She loved that stool and spent a lot of time perched on it although She did let me use it and i enjoyed my time both under it and perched on top.

Early in April Anjika made Her decision regarding Anna: the girl was to be sold on and I was instructed to phone Mistress Wendy and ask her if she would make the necessary arrangements in exchange for her usual twenty per cent commission. The phone call went smoothly and Dr Dryden was cordial to me even though she knew that I was only a slave.

She readily agreed to handle the sale and saw no difficulty in finding a buyer for a tall buxom blonde who had already been conditioned.

“How did your mistress come by the item?” She eventually asked.

“Oh, she was one of a pair of University students She obtained back in January.” i answered innocently.

There was a pause. “I—see!” There was another pause. “Well leave it with me and inform your mistress that I’ll be in touch when I have a buyer.” Then she rang off: etiquette did not require a Mistress to say “Good bye” to someone else’s property.

Mistress was sitting on slave-imogen’s face when i informed her of what Mistress Wendy had said. She thanked me and instructed me to suck her nipples which I did. Clearly she was pleased with me for the way that I had arranged things with Mistress Wendy, who it must be said did not seem to be on speaking terms with Her. The intimacy was her way of rewarding me and I loved it

Mistress Wendy phoned back ten days later and spoke to me personally as the two Mistresses still were avoiding each other. “Ah, slave, you may tell your mistress that I have a buyer for the item and that —banana-pastrami—”

(discontinuity)

“—I will send someone over to collect it on Wednesday Evening.” Then her voice changed and she spoke rather slowly. “Is everything clear?”

Suddenly things were. “Yes... My... Mistress!” i answered robotically, my mind in turmoil as everything realigned even though things were already crystal-clear.

After Mistress Wendy had rung off, i reported to Anjika who smiled and thanked me, observing. “You were on the phone a long time.”

“Sorry, mistress, but i was just making sure that there was no confusion.” i said by way of reassurance.

i am told that i climbed off my couch in the Maintenance Room at four o’clock the next morning and unlocked the front door but retained no real recollection of this action or indeed of anything else that occurred before mid-morning.

There had been a pair of them waiting in the porch, a pair of tall pitch-black shadows that seemed ghost-like in the darkness. A vague thought drifted smoke-like through my dreaming mind —Why isn’t the security light working?

They followed me in through the front door —Why doesn’t the intruder alarm go off?

“Stay here!” One of the tall, black velvet clad figures ordered, it was a woman’s voice. I watched them as they moved towards the staircase at the end of the hallway. One was carrying something that looked vaguely like a small black Carbon Dioxide fire extinguisher.

The hall lights were off and I hadn’t been able to see clearly.

It was a strange sensation almost like being both asleep and awake at the same time: unable to do anything without instructions, unable to think unless instructed to: a restful and peaceful state, totally stress-free. i waited unmoving, unthinking, all was silence until...

“Who the fuck..?” Someone shouted; i recognised the voice; it belonged to the woman, Anjika Gupta. There was a blast of a gas cylinder being discharged and then silence.

i waited unmoving, unthinking, all was silence until...

The hall and stairs lights came on, dazzling me.

i waited unmoving, unthinking, all was silence until...

The tall, black-clad figure of a woman descended the staircase and moved from room to room, turning lights on as she did so. Eventually she moved to the front door and stood near me, then extracting a mobile phone from somewhere, made a call and said just four words: “Code green. Target secure.”

And that was that.

i waited unmoving, unthinking, all was silence until...

They walked in through the front door: there were two of them both accompanied by slaves of their own. Even in my controlled mental state i recognised them; they were Mistress Margaret and my Mistress. Mistress Margaret, an impressive-looking grey-haired middle aged woman who was of medium height, turned to me and smiled. She stroked my hair and then raised my chin with her fingertips.

She read my collar. “Ah, Anjika Gupta’s slave-controller: my dear, you are a valuable catch!”

“Oh, yes,” my Mistress answered, “it’s far better with computer networks than any item that either of us owns.”

Margaret Baxter stroked my cheek. “Gupta seems to have a knack of acquiring useful items: such a pity that she is so reckless, she would have been a great asset to The Circle.”

They went on upstairs and i lost sight of them for a time.

i waited unmoving, unthinking, all was silence until...

A slave who was unknown to me scurried in through the front door carrying a shiny, bright red garment. She too vanished upstairs.

i waited unmoving, unthinking, all was silence until...

Mistress Wendy, my Mistress, walked slowly downstairs. “You, Siobhan, or whatever the fuck you’re called. Join me in the living room.”

I trotted along after her. Once in the sitting room she was joined by Mistress Margaret, who I seemed to recall was a ‘Psychiatrist’, although the significance of the word was beyond me.

“I’ve no idea just who these slaves of Gupta’s actually are, other than that one there,” Mistress Wendy waved casually in my direction, “I told it to come in just on the off-chance that it can tell us.”

“Don’t worry,” Mistress Margaret grinned waving some sheets of paper in the air, “I found the records section on her network and printed out this summary.”

When she received a copy, my Mistress smiled as she read it. “What do you suggest?”

Mistress Margaret sunk into what had been Anjika Gupta’s favourite armchair. She was about to speak when a small item of furniture caught her eye. “Oh look!” She exclaimed as she reached down and then held it up in the air. “A queening stool, I haven’t seen one of these in years!”

She put it down again. “My suggestion is that we retain this house and use it as a processing facility. We both know that the standard of the equipment is far superior to anything that either of us possess.”

Mistress Wendy nodded. “I don’t think any members of The Circle have anything this good, certainly not in the UK. Gupta was a bloody brilliant student back in the day: we should condition her to run this place.”

“No!” Margaret Baxter snapped and then pointed at me. “This one runs it and Gupta becomes her slave. It’s the best way to take a firm control of a loose-cannon while still preserving most of her ingenuity and inventiveness.”

Mistress Wendy cocked her head in my direction and chuckled as she spoke. “What? You want to turn that into a Mistress?”

Baxter screwed up her face as she thought for several seconds before answering. “There’s no need to go that far, I’m sure that she could be conditioned so as to create a personality that can act as a sort of super-controller. Afterwards she will run our facility but within strict guidelines and under our control.”

My Mistress nodded. “I like it... This place should prove to be very useful as well as profitable. The house is big enough so we can expand the operation if necessary plus we can add cosmetic and medical work, too, there’s always call for that.”

Mistress Margaret smiled at me and asked. “How do you like the sound of that, my dear?”

Well i didn’t understand, not in my current state but i smiled back and said. “i like it very much.” This caused Mistress Wendy to laugh.

“Okay, what about Gupta’s property? That’s going to have to be sold, surely?” My Mistress said.

Margaret Baxter’s face broke into a smile. “Not necessarily. The ones with jobs: well they are profitable so we’ll keep them. Siobhan here is going to need a staff and it would be nice for her to have someone to fuck. The rest can be dispersed. If you want any of them, help yourself, they won’t fit into my set-up.”

Wendy nodded. “It’s agreed, then, let it be as you suggest. The only one that I want is the Asian slave, the little one with the really big tits, the rest can go although I suggest that the two students that Gupta kidnapped should go abroad: the police are still searching for them, after all.”

Baxter looked thoughtful. “We’ll send them to Kê Cai, in China, as a gift of course, I’m sure that she will like them and it would be good if she owed us a favour!” She looked thoughtful. “Then there’s Gupta’s anal-sex slave,” she glanced at her print-out, “Fiona. I suggest that we give her to Helena Yorke; we both know how she appreciates a welcoming backside... I was going to ask for her professional advice on how we can buy this place off ourselves and not pay a fortune in tax; hopefully she’ll take the new girl in lieu of a fee.”

Mistress Wendy laughed. “She’s a banker, remember? They never do anything for nothing.” She paused. “No wait—we’ll present the slave to her daughters. They’ve got the same tastes as she has and she dotes on them.”

Baxter nodded. “Right, I’m going to make a few calls, can I leave you with the loose-ends, Wendy?”

At that she departed leaving me totally confused and trapped inside a waking dream that made no sense what-so-ever.