The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Time passed and as far as Emily and I were concerned, nothing seemed to have changed. We still got up in the mornings, we went to work, we came home, we had sex with Anjika and we went to sleep: a normal day for our little ‘family’. What was the word that Wendy Dryden had used to describe us? ‘Coterie’ that’s it; we were a coterie! Well the word certainly suited us well because according to the on-line dictionary that I consulted the word was defined as ‘an intimate and often exclusive group of persons with a unifying common interest or purpose’.

We were certainly intimate, both with Mistress and with each other. Our little group consisted exclusively of Anjika’s willing sex-slaves all with the common purpose of serving our beloved Godless. On top of this we had peace of mind, so what else mattered? We would come home from work and change into our identical ‘uniforms’ of sky-blue shiny skirts that barely hid our pussies; tight little white Lycra sleeveless tops and shiny black ankle boots with three inch heels. Bras and panties? They were strictly outdoor wear only. Why would I want to cover my pussy? Mistress might desire access to it at any time and who was I to deny her?

Since being conditioned, no other clothes felt right: I needed to wear that sexy, figure-hugging costume: Mistress desired me to wear it so why would I want to dress differently? Her wish was my command, as they say.

As for Mistress, she tended to dress to emphasise her status and while at home mostly wore a knee-length black leather skirt; a fitted white satin blouse, complete with long sleeves and a high button-up collar and black high-heeled calf-length boots. The whole ensemble appearing sexy yet severe as befitted her position as our beloved Owner.

After some thought, Mistress decided to make use of the latest DVD’s that Dr Dryden had handed her: the ones designed to ‘upgrade’ me to controller, whatever that was. So, following her instructions, I spent eight hours during the next weekend in the conditioning suite down in the basement. Oh I had nagging doubts regarding Wendy’s motives: doubts that I was unable to pass on to Mistress... I tried, but the words would not come.

Yes, I eagerly underwent another brain-fuck although as far as I was concerned, I thought, felt and functioned much as I had done before: Anjika was still my Goddess and I was her property. It was really strange but I couldn’t remember anything that had happened during the up-grade session; I could remember the voices and suggestions together with the patterns, music and sounds from when I was initially converted, but this time? Nothing!

However, remember it or not: my behaviour and attitudes did change. I remember the first time that I felt it necessary to offer my guidance to Anjika. We were all relaxing on Mistress’s large bed one evening: there was nothing on the television that she wanted to watch and as computer games did not appeal at the moment, it was up to us to keep Her entertained. I can remember it well: she was more than happy to let me kiss and fondle her while Emily ate her pussy. Ah! The times that I had fantasised about snogging with Angie when we were younger: it was something that I had dreamed about. Kissing her, playing with her tits and even just holding her—and now that I could, I remembered my previous longings and sighed contentedly.

I slid my lips away from the love bite that I’d left on the side of her neck; well at least it would not be as obvious against her beautiful golden-brown skin as it would be on mine. I let my mouth slip down to one of her breasts and began to lick, chew and suckle on her chocolate-brown nipple, rolling the little nubbin between my lips and just enjoying the feel of it in my mouth. Her titties weren’t big ones, just your average B sized handfuls, but they were Mistress’s so they were perfect. I felt her stroke my hair gently and then run her fingers through it. I sighed again and so did she. We were both more than content with the ‘new me’.

Suddenly the back of Emily’s head brushed against my clitty and my hips jerked as I gasped. I felt Mistress pull away and out of the corner of my eye I saw her look down at me and smile. She made us stop what we were doing and eased us all into a triangle so that we were grasping each other, mouth to pussy. The sweet smell of Emily’s arousal tantalised my nose as I gave her the first lick: nice! I was eating Emily’s pussy, which meant only one thing. Our Mistress’s divine mouth was pressed against my undeserving crotch.

I felt something wet and muscular slide across my lower lips and heard myself squeal with joy—She was taking care of my needs! Then, head swimming and hips bucking, I tried my best to service Emily which was what Anjika intended but somehow I couldn’t concentrate for every pass of her wonderful tongue, every little nibble and every time she sucked on my clitty caused me to hesitate. Oh, I tried. But I am afraid that the younger red-head did not receive my full attention. Being eaten out by my Goddess was really too much for me to bear.

I did my best but both Mistress and myself had cum at least a couple of times before I managed to bring Emily off and that was only after I felt her grind her pussy against my face. It was during this threesome that a weird thought wormed its way into my mind. It was odd but I realised that what Anjika was doing was wrong: she was acting as if we were all equal which we were not! She WAS Mistress! This sort of thing would confuse the slaves if she were to make a habit of it.

I hesitated. Where did that thought come from? Then it dawned on me. I am Mistress’s controller and I have responsibilities. Wendy Dryden’s new DVD’s had re-programmed me after all. The intimate sex-play carried on but I knew that I would be compelled to speak to my darling Anjika later, I had no choice.

The three-way session ended around nine-ish when we were all too worn out to do anything but collapse into each other’s arms. As we lay there I had but one thought in my mind, although by the purring noises that she was producing I didn’t think that Emily even had that many. Mistress Anjika, though, was thoughtful and suddenly sat up. Emily and I followed suit, one on each side of her.

“Both of you stand up!” She commanded abruptly and when we did so She had us stand side by side and face her.

“Come on, you two, stand up straight!” She regarded us critically for a minute or so before speaking again. I could almost feel her eyes dancing over my naked body as she examined us both. Suddenly she had us put our hands on top of our heads and interlock our fingers, next we were told to stretch our arms up as far as they would go before turning around slowly on the spot four or five times.

“Two things,” she said, more to herself than to us, “your pubic hair’s got to go: it’s unpleasant for anyone eating pussy.”

We stood there for a couple more minutes, fingers interlocked and arms raised, as she continued to look at our bodies. “You two still aren’t enough alike: your breasts and arses are different sizes and anyway, your tits are way too small, so I am going to have some changes made.”

She stood and moved over to stand in front of us. I felt her fondle my D’s and saw her squeeze Emily’s little AA’s. “You are both going to become DD’s and Emily, you aught to have your hips widened so that they match Siobhan’s: I don’t think that is possible at the moment so I’ll get you some nice buttock implants instead. Wendy’s given me the details of a discrete private clinic that the other Mistresses use, they’ll do your tits and arses for me the next time you’re on holiday from work.”

She continued to stare at us. “They can do faces too. Siobhan, your nose is going to be narrowed and trimmed and Emily’s jaw is going to be broadened—when the clinic has finished with you two, your own mothers won’t be able to tell you apart!” She chuckled. “Imagine it! Identical red-heads! You’ll be divine!”

I fleetingly wondered how she intended to pay for all of this but if she wanted it then so did the rest of us and so the question of cost was irrelevant.

Anjika’s ‘coterie’ expanded over the next few weeks, the first one that she recruited was Jasmine Price, a 32 year old vivacious, but diminutive, blonde. Jasmine also worked for Red Fox Packaging, which was the same firm as the rest of us, but was a graphical designer. She, like Emily, spent a large part of a one week’s holiday in our basement before moving in with us the following week. She was a divorcee with no family living in the area which made her easily obtainable.

Jasmine had owned her own house; it had been awarded to her as part of an acrimonious divorce settlement. Selling it more than paid for the improvements that Mistress had ordained plus similar ones for Jasmine too. I must say that she looked very fetching in her new powder-blue skirt, tight white top and high-heeled black boots.

It was about now that the collars were added to our ‘uniforms’; they were like dog collars, but metallic-looking, stiff and four centimetres wide which restricted head and neck movement somewhat. Mine was gold-coloured while Emily’s and Jasmine’s were silver: each of them displayed our name prominently across the front. Mine was embroidered in silver while the girls’ names were in copper thread. I must say that the collars were as distinctive as they were uncomfortable but because they were something that Mistress wanted we were proud to wear them.

Our next slave-sister was a surprising choice and not so easy for Mistress to gain control of. I suppose that it all began one night in mid-October. It was a cold evening, but nothing that the central heating couldn’t handle. We were all once more on her big bed, as we often were, only this time Mistress was on her hands and knees with her pussy firmly pressed against Emily’s mouth. This left her backside accessible to Jasmine who was enthusiastically licking her arsehole. I was lying on my back with my head under Mistress Anjika’s chest so that I could lick and suck her nipples, which she particularly liked. In other words, the three of us were worshipping our Goddess’s beautiful body.

We had been going for sometime and Mistress had already cum three or four times in rapid succession, well let’s face it, with that level of stimulation it would have been surprising if she hadn’t. Suddenly I felt her stiffen and rise up above me causing her nipple to slip out from between my lips.

It was a throw-away remark, but one that had a profound affect on me. “It’s no good.” I heard her mutter. “Jasmine’s doing her best but her tongue is just too short. We’ll just have to get a girl with a longer one!”

My brain instantly clicked over into controller-mode and I was obliged to answer my Mistress. I remembered a woman who I had picked up at the club sometime last year. “What about Prita Desai, Anjika? Her tongue’s over three inches long.”

Mistress thought and then gasped. “Really? She’s a Policewoman isn’t she?” And Prita’s fate was sealed.

Oh this one took some planning! I was given the job of seducing her, however I’ll not go into details as that would need a book of its own, but acting upon Anjika’s instructions I got to play ‘Romeo’ to Prita’s ‘Juliet’. From early November I became a regular at the club which is called The Fish on a Bicycle once more. (Yep, you’ve guessed it—A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle: corny, but true!)

It was about ten days before Prita showed up; apparently she only visited the place when she was not on a duty shift. I got to know her habits and was always there when she arrived, as a result we became ‘fuck-buddies’: God, I hate that phrase; I’ve never used it before and hopefully, never will again!

By the second week in December we were spending more time in her flat than we were in the club and it was now that she said that she loved me. It was after another rather athletic session: it had started off as a passionate sixty-nine with me on top—I already knew that she was submissive so I took the lead and clamped her head firmly between my thighs and was rewarded with a really good tongue-fucking... Oh, boy, her tongue is a tongue to die for and she knows how to use it, too. As I licked and nibbled at her beautiful pussy, lapping up all of her earthy-sweet nectar and sucking at her little clitty she drove me wild! I swear that she found my ‘gee’ spot and between her stimulating that, sucking on my clitty and nibbling my inner labia, well I came like an express train, only more frequently. How I didn’t break her neck I’ll never know but my hips really were jerking and thrusting and grinding against her face as I came time and time again. Okay, she was doing the same to me but at least I was the one on top! My head wasn’t trapped by a pair of athletic thighs,

I don’t know how long we went at it, or how many orgasms we both had but it was sheer exhaustion that caused us to collapse into a tangled heap of assorted limbs and tits. Except for our breathing all was a gentle silence.

“I love you, Siobhan!” She said completely out of the blue.

“Love you too, babe!” I answered. Well I had fallen in love with her: Mistress had instructed me too.

She paused and sighed and I kissed her and yes, she tasted of my pussy just as I must have tasted of hers. “No, really, I’ve fallen in love with you.”

I noticed that her Black Country accent seemed to have faded somewhat, no doubt she was trying to make a good impression. I kissed her again and once again she returned the kiss with real passion and so I announced: “I want to spend the rest of my life with you!”

We lay in each others arms just staring into the darkness, the only light trickling in came from the street lamps behind a row of houses; her flat being at the back of the block. “Why don’t you come and spend Christmas with me?”

There was silence. Had I over-stepped the mark and moved things on too quickly? Suddenly she asked. “Won’t your friend, Angie, mind?”

I chuckled. “She’ll welcome the company. We just share the house, she isn’t my girlfriend.”

She grabbed me and kissed me hard. “I’ve got leave from the 23rd until January 6th, that’s fifteen days and we can spend it together.”

I gave her a squeeze. “And if you can put up with me, you could always move in with me; we’ve got loads of space.” I pretended to hesitate. “But you can’t can you? Your job and all that!”

She sighed but after a pause said, “No, wait, I can get a transfer up to north Shropshire. It’ll be a formality if we said that we were getting married.”

I hugged her and we kissed. Checkmate!!!

Luckily she was on shift right up to the 22nd of December, so nothing could happen to ruin things. Then, on the 23rd, Anjika and I looked out of the window and watched my “fiancée’s” car turn into the drive and stop right by our front door.

Prita wasn’t the only one destined to join us, there was also Rebecca. No, I know that I haven’t mentioned her simply because she only joined us at Red Fox Packaging on the 16th of December and needed somewhere to live. She was the managing director’s new PA and had temporary accommodation in the town’s one and only posh (not very) hotel.

She approached me at work. Yes I was still working, despite shuttling backwards and forwards between Birmingham and northern Shropshire as was necessary to conduct my love affair with Prita: I really was shattered, but was trying my best to hide it.

I remember being busy in my lair, which is the best way to describe the IT office. I heard the door open then close but didn’t look up although I also remember hearing Jason, one of my technicians, mutter, “Wow”, under his breath. The next thing that I heard was the click, click, click of high heels against the hard floor and yes, this did cause me to pay attention.

She was a slim blonde about 5′7″ tall and with an attractive face and a good figure. By the way that she was wearing a tailored business suit I could tell that she was a senior executive. Well I was too, but I don’t power dress.

As she approached she gave me a radiant smile. “Ms O’Rourke?” She asked while sounding as if she couldn’t quite believe that the woman who was up to her armpits in the innards of a rogue computer was also the company’s IT System’s Manager.”

I stared back in surprise. “Err, that’s me, Siobhan O’Rourke, at your service; Ms?”

She smiled again. “Crawford, but please call me Rebecca. I’m new here...”

I recognised the name. “Ah, the Managing Director’s new Personal Assistant! What can I do for you, Rebecca? Problem with your computer, is there?”

She was standing across the table from me and I could smell her expensive perfume and feel my pussy begin to moisten: well I am a lesbian, after all.

“No, it’s nothing like that.” She said, the words coming out in a bit of a rush. “It’s just that I’m having difficulty finding somewhere to live; there doesn’t seem to be a whole lot of rental property in the area.”

I looked up. Her eyes were blue, not grey. “So I’ve heard.” I said non-committally, although my heart was beginning to race as I just knew what was coming next.

“Only someone told me that you rent out rooms to some of the ladies who work here.” She said sounding very hopeful. “I know that it’s a bit of a cheek, but can you help me, please? The hotel where I’m staying is ghastly!”

I smiled and then phoned Anjika who came down and met Rebecca. Together we informed her that as she was eminently suitable and we did have room for her at home, so would she like to come around and see the room on the morning after the company closed for Christmas? (Which: coincidentally, was the 23rd.) Tearfully she hugged us both and kissed us on the cheek by way of thanks: that hotel really was that bad!

“Oh, thank you, thank you! I’m a very quiet person; you’ll hardly know I’m there!” She gushed happily. We got talking to her and were informed that she was a career woman with no personal ties or entanglements. Anjika couldn’t believe her luck and assured Rebecca that, if she liked the room, she would be welcome to move in straight away.

Her car pulled up outside our front door only a couple of minutes after Prita’s and the four of us sat around in our lounge chatting and sharing an early bottle of wine. Emily and Jasmine, needless to say, remained out of sight although they had been warned to be ready when needed.

Prita was regaling us with a tale of one of the sillier aspects of police work when she suddenly realised that she was feeling sleepy. “’How strong’s that wine?” She asked, placing her glass on the coffee table. “I knew I should have stuck to beer!”

Rebecca sighed. “It seems to have gone to my head as well.” She exclaimed placing her glass next to my “fiancée’s”.

“Me too!” I lied before leaning back in my arm chair for effect. But not before I noticed Anjika’s self-satisfied smile.

Seconds later both of our guests slumped into semi-consciousness. They went down into the basement together.