The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The air was crisp, fresh. All scents seemed cleaner, purer as the dawn break approached. There wasn’t a soul in the world, not a speck of breeze, only the scents and the feeling of quietness. The girl of the black hair and black dress ran from tree to tree, as if hiding, running away. Someone—something!—was following her.

Crunching, breaking, and growling followed. There was a beast, a monster, following her, hunting her.

The stars shimmered overhead. Mars flickered, red and orange, as it greeted the girl’s instincts as she looked up. Something howled deep inside her, deep in her red innards. Blood pumped, adrenaline flowed, eyes turned yellow and chatoyant. Had it been a different type of dream, she would’ve turned into a manticore, but it wasn’t that type of dream. Mars, star and red god, talked to her as the light of a greater god hid it.

The girl in black stepped away from the trees and faced the creature that pursued her. It was big, and nasty, as if a bear had met the Industrial Revolution. It howled like only a machine could, and reached for the girl. She jumped away from it, and she stared defiantly at it. It stared back and saw the spark of Mars, the red of a star inside her and the blackness surrounding it. It cowered, and in that moment the girl in black reached and touched it.

The creature was made of her hidden thoughts, and it was afraid of the girl. For the length of that first contact it wanted nothing more than to go back to the blackness before the Everything, but it was a creature of hidden thoughts—her thoughts. It caught the scent of what lay deep inside her mind and it knew it could feast. The girl in black, with her yellow eyes, felt a shudder go down her spine. She cowered, and the creature reached and touched her in a cruel joke of role-reversal. The girl in black felt her thoughts unravelling, her mind opening like a book. Thoughts flew here and there; doves that had been happily pecking at the ground suddenly took to the air.

The creature reached, reached, reached, reached for whatever gave off that delicious cent it had been pursuing for so long, and found it—the thing that had called it here in the first place. What she feared to face. The creature reached and took the hidden thought and became one with it. The girl in black faced her innermost thoughts. She cowered, she screamed, and then she gave in. She realised it was what she wanted, what she desired and needed.

She felt everything about her unravel-

A shrill, horrible sound engulfed the quiet world as it faded into nothingness and a memory. Hildegarde opened her eyes, reached a hand and turned off her alarm clock. She was lucky enough the dream faded into nothingness and that the beast never finished its mission.

Just like Garfield, Hildegarde had once dreaded Mondays, specially Monday mornings. Getting up early, going to that horrible place with the fibre glass ceiling that could fall on you any time during the day, and facing the rubbish tutors that crushed your dreams and killed your hopes wasn’t a good start for the week. It was Monday morning and, curiously, Hildegarde couldn’t find any of those negative feelings in her anymore. Things had indeed improved since she changed her studying habits. Might be a little too late, but at least the habits changed. One step always led to others.

Hildegarde felt prepared for today’s test – a sensation she had not experienced in years – and yet she was feeling incredibly nervous. What if her studying didn’t work so well this time around? What if she made a mistake? Her fingers were nervously tapping the desk and she had to make a conscious effort to stop it. Hildegarde’s golden eyes stared at her hands for a moment, wondering why she was so nervous. It was only a test, after all! Since when am I so worried about a test? Specially chemistry? Whatever had happened to her?

She rubbed her grey pantyhose-covered legs over each other and played with a button on her shirt. The question was suddenly forgotten. Her fingers started to move again. Will she do okay? Will she fail? Her grades were in a state that if she failed this test, it would be nearly impossible to salvage the semester and would have to do twice as good in the final, which, knowing the professor, would be nearly impossible. Yet if she indeed failed the subject then all that studying she did while wearing bits and pieces of the uniform and chanting that monotone – yet wonderful – mantra would prove useless and the whole theory – and dream – of mind-controlling uniforms would dissipate. Well, it wasn’t so useless—I am doing better now.

Hildegarde didn’t know if she wanted to find that out.

The drowning sound of twenty-seven teenagers speaking at the same time filled the room. Hildegarde would be doing the same, if she felt like it. She saw a group of girls she didn’t think most of talking in a corner, and a mixed group going over the notes of the exam to come. Some people looked worried, others looked relaxed, and most didn’t care at all. It was but another subject they could or could not fail; either way, they would get their way and secure a good mark at one point or another; such was the way of a system that didn’t want to deal with patching up its own mistakes.

Hildegarde yawned, stretching her arms in front of her. She allowed herself a moment to rest her eyes—they burned slightly, and she thought it might be accumulated hours. Recently, she had been waking up a lot at night. When she opened her eye, she noticed that a person had detached herself from the group of girls and was walking in her direction. Hildegarde frowned, her eyes became thin slits as fiery as the sun, her muscles clenched, and she wished she had a throwing axe. You love the abuse, don’t you? She thought.

“Gricelda.” She said in a neutral voice when the queen of bitches stood before her.

“Hey,” Gricelda spoke in a vacant tone that would drive many into an irrational fit of anger. She somehow managed to turn words that had meanings and purpose into pointless babble. The girl was as tall as Hildegarde, but that is where the similarities stopped. She was pale, where Hildegarde was tanned; she was a brunette, where Hildegarde’s hair could swallow light. “You look worried, Hilde.”

Hildegarde took a deep breath and straightened in her chair. “Indeed I am. Wouldn’t you be worried if you had to be careful of what you said lest you accidentally offended someone that, both, did and didn’t, deserve to be insulted?” The glint in Hildegarde’s eyes was more valuable than gold. “I mean, that is one thing that would put anyone on edge.” She let her hand roam the roam. “And this place, of course. You never know what manner of creature might crawl out of the cesspool.”

Gricelda’s neatly trimmed, hazel eyebrows met in the middle. Hildegarde grinned; she had just completely confused the girl. Of course, she had managed to confuse herself too. It was too early to be dealing with this woman—“least you accidentally offend someone”? What was she even talking about? But, still, she had confused the brunette and Gricelda was too arrogant to admit to herself or the world that she had been bested, and so quickly. Instead, she went on. “Well, whatever.” She paused, swallowing. She looked back at her friends, quickly, and then turned towards Hildegarde. “Whatever. I wanted to ask you how you dared come to school wearing that!”

Hildegarde raised an eyebrow. Interesting angle, she thought as her eyes explored the classroom. Some had noticed Gricelda and Hildegarde were talking and had decided to stop chatting and look at how things would develop. There was the morbid curiosity of witnessing a fight, even something as silly as to girls who hated one another subtly insult each other.

“I am sorry, Gricelda, but I do not speak that jargon you and your clique use to communicate such basic pseudo-ideas,” She pronounced the word in a sarcastic tone that said everything she thought about the group Gricelda frequented. “and, unlike you proto-humans, the rest of the world needs more than “that” to understand what you mean. Please, do make use of the other words in the English language for an exact description of what you might be referring to. Here’s a thought: why don’t you use the exact word you meant to use in the first place?”

There was some snickering around the room, but, since Gricelda was immune to any sort of mockery to her person, believing there could not and would not exist anything of the sort, it went unheeded.

“Oh, right, you think you are, like, so smart.”

“I do not think about it. I know it. I am standing next to you!” Hildegarde grinned. “Anyone would be a genius, when placed next to an ignoramus.”

Gricelda blinked and half-opened her mouth, she even shook a bit. It looked as if the words and thoughts had collided in a nasty train wreck of thoughts, completely shaking her.

“Cat got your tongue?” Hildegarde smiled, leaning closer, and moving her arm as if snatching something from the air.

“Uh, no!” Gricelda pulled back. “Anyhow, I was asking you how you dare to wear such drab clothes—” She trailed off seeing how Hildegarde looked like a cat about to pounce a butterfly. “You know, that hose and, what is that, a button down blouse? You’ve been wearing that, like, so often, Hilde. You have never been, like, a good dresser, but this is taking it too far.”

“I would discuss what I think about clothes, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to understand it.” Hildegarde crossed her arms under her breasts, smiling deviously.

“Uh?”

“Never mind. Go on.”

More snickering in the room. In a corner, someone was laughing loudly. He was trying to recount a similar clash of egos that happened some months before, but couldn’t stop laughing long enough to catch his breath.

“Well, as the classroom’s appointed head, I think it would be best for general morale if you started wearing, like, fashionable clothes. You simply break the classroom’s style, dressing like an old woman.”

Hildegarde looked into Gricelda’s eyes. She stared into those orbs surrounded by make-up and fake eyelashes and didn’t look away until those two eyes showed the cowardice the Gricelda hid behind a mask of lipstick and shadow. Slowly, Hildegarde rose. Who was this girl to say she couldn’t dress like she liked? Who was this girl to talk to Lizardeyes that way? Who was this girl to say people actually voted for her for a position that was just a popularity show to keep the students distracted? And how blind was this girl to believe that anyone, anyone in the whole bloody school, cared?

In her boots, Hildegarde stood a full head taller than Gricelda, she crossed her arms under her bosom, and smiled in the way crocodiles would if they could. “First of all, your bitchy Headness, the only reason you are head is because everyone but you know that that is a stupid popularity contest to keep us entertained while the school figures what else to do with us. No one cares about you in that position, and I doubt you would be smart enough to ever realise it.

“You talk about clothes and fashion. Tell me, is there a dress code forbidding me from dressing as I like? Who the fuck are you to tell me I cannot wear what I like? You have your opinion, you have given it, and it has been rejected. Do not be a bloody clergywoman and stop forcing people to do what you want. Know what happened to the Tzars? Perhaps that might happen to you.” Hildegarde’s hands coiled into fists when she saw Gricelda’s confusion deepen. She felt like punching the girl. She felt like punching everyone in the room. The blind idiots didn’t see that the school was just toying with their futures. “But, of course, you are too preoccupied in silly things to even know what a Tzar is. I wonder how stupid your clique must be to be around you.

“Tell me, if silly fashions are so important to you, then why don’t you see if the new Principal manages to enforce a dress code based on your specifications? Oh, right, that would go against your own silly ideas, you jerk. Well, now that I think about it, a dress code – a uniform – wouldn’t be such a bad idea, would it? It might make you realise what a shallow bitch you are, or it might just make you an ever worse one. Though how that would be managed, I do not know.”

At this moment Gricelda tried to say something, to interject and defend herself from Hildegarde’s increasingly confusing verbal assault, but before her mouth even opened the girl of the golden eyes moved closer. Hildegarde saw Gricelda’s eyes twitch, saw the girl take a step back, saw how all the anger and frustration and craziness of the past couple of weeks was coming out of her, uncontrolled, to crash on this ridiculous woman’s mind.

“I do not know if you have a crush on me, or if you hate me, or why the fuck you pester me all the time. Perhaps it is true what I say, that you’re too stupid to realise that I bloody hate you and come back for more abuse. But you know what? I am bloody tired. This is getting old, and I will not do this again!”

Hildegarde was screaming at this point, venting out more than anger towards Gricelda. She was venting out frustration and nervousness, and a latent fear that her fascination might be controlling her more than she thought possible. She wanted to know what her life would be. She wanted to know where her mother spent her time now. She wanted to know what was happening to Liv. She stood taller, more imposing, and she felt such a thrill when Gricelda cowered and looked away and shrank back on herself. Hildegarde’s heart beat faster, her eyes almost glowed, and her voice was one to command armies. She spoke in a tone that left space for no questions, and spoke in a manner that made her feel in control of everything. She screamed, expelling all that anger and frustration out of her system. Hildegarde felt alive and, best of all, she felt utterly aroused.

“You talk to me again,” She quickly moved a finger under Gricelda’s jaw, tickling it softly, before her fist grabbed the neck of her top. Gricelda whimpered. Hildegarde almost moaned at that. “And I will give a present to the world and finally pull you down from your high bloody horse.”

Hildegarde stared right into Gricelda’s eyes for a full minute, the entire classroom in silence, expecting Gricelda to break down into tears. When she deemed it time enough, Hildegarde walked past Gricelda, hitting her hard in the shoulder, and moved down the aisle of chairs. When she was at the door, she turned around and said: “Class-appointed head! Bah! How blind a bitch must you be to believe that rubbish!?”

With that, she left the classroom and made her way to the restrooms.

Mirrors have become my way of thinking about what I do, Hilde thought as she saw herself in the half-broken mirror mounted on the restroom wall. She splashed some water on her face and then attempted to close the faucet but gave up when the knob broke apart. She wasn’t even surprised anymore. At least this place looks cleaner today, she thought before going into one of the bathroom stalls.

Hilde couldn’t believe just how horny she felt. Not only that, but she felt alive. Her skin was warm, her breathing came in deeply; it was as if she had run miles and miles. Arousal and joy. What did it? She wondered. Was it the uniform parts she was wearing? Yelling at Gricelda? It couldn’t be any of them, if she thought about it closely. She wore uniform parts daily now, and it was only when she thought about them in the context of mind-control- Her thoughts stopped momentarily, her lips moved, her voice echoed the uniform must be worn in school premises—would the familiar and welcomed tingles and arousal appear. She took a deep breath to calm down, as thinking about it made her sex cry for attention. Yelling at Gricelda wasn’t new, and it had never been more than screaming in frustration. Then, what had changed?

Hilde tried to calm down, but found that her sex had something else in mind and when it had an idea there was nothing left but to satisfy it. Hilde hiked up her skirt and let her fingers do what they knew how to do. Her toes curled, and her whole body trembled, but it felt delicious. Suddenly she remembered where she was. She was so glad no one had walked in on her, because she hadn’t closed the door. Hildegarde looked at her reflection on the broken mirror—golden eyes glimmered with desire back at her—and felt a tang of distress. Who was she turning into? Hilde looked down at her legs and torso. Was the uniform really changing her? A tingle went down her spine and she tried very hard to ignore it. Or was something else the matter?

“I humiliated Gricelda,” She said and felt another tingle go down her body. “I was... in complete control.” Her whole body tensed and then relaxed. The tingles moved like waves, up and down her body, making her very aware of how sensitive her skin could be, of how heavy her body was. She was very thirsty, all of a sudden.

“That’s it...” She said, out of breath.

Hildegarde let that realisation hang over her head as she relieved herself and then washed her hands.

She then allowed that realisation to hit home. It had been taking control away, and exerting it over, Gricelda that set her off. She shuddered and held on to the sink, water overflowing and turning it into a pond, as the deliciously fresh memory returned. Hildegarde let the images run through her mind, with slight modifications: she was now in full uniform, and so was Gricelda. Hildegarde’s fingers were twitchy. It wouldn’t do to start doing what she wanted to do and then have someone walk in on her.

Hilde looked over her shoulder, and before she could think about it she had locked herself in one of the bathroom stalls.

Her fingers danced once more, and Hilde let her thoughts soar free from restraints. She had dominated, she had controlled. It wasn’t what she had done that made her skin hypersensitive, but how she had done it. She had being dominant and it had felt levels of good. Now, how would actually it feel if she did that while wearing her Perfect Schoolgirl Uniform? She curled into a ball as a powerful spark flared from her sex to the rest of her body and then taking strong roots in her brain. Her world shook, and for a long moment she couldn’t see anything but black spots dancing in front of her. Hilde couldn’t summon any strength at all. Her skin tingled, her mouth was dry, and her sex was satisfied. It had come unexpectedly, and strong and fast, and Hilde had loved it.

Five minutes later she was cleaning her hands with what little soap was left on the basin, quickly, lest she be caught out of the classroom before the bell rang. She had dried herself, combed her black hair, and made sure that not a trace of that intoxicating scent emanated from her body. Who knew what would happen if someone would detect that scent?

“What are you turning into, Canto.” She told her reflection, ruefully. Flints of black in a sea of gold stared back, unnatural eyes that could make many afraid. Hildegarde raised a hand and touched the eyes on the mirror before turning back towards the classroom. Head held high, she ignored the stares and mumbles of people that still waited for the bell to ring to go into the classrooms. Hildegarde was absorbed in thought.

A dominant. That set me off? She thought as she walked down the stairs. Being dominant – a Domme – made me as aroused as when I think about uniforms and mind-control. She smiled. A Domme, me? That would be interesting. I never thought I could see myself as one.

When she walked into the classroom, everyone fell silent. They stared at her for a moment, before returning to their conversation. Some eyes followed her to her seat, and some fell back on Gricelda, who was surrounded by her group of what some would say parasites. When no confrontation started, they lost interest and went back to their worrying over the test. Hildegarde didn’t even stare at the girl.

Hildegarde stretched on her chair, relaxed, and waited for the exam.

Forgotten was the nervousness of earlier.

She was in control now.

When Liv heard about Hilde’s outburst hours earlier, she couldn’t control a fit of giggles. That is just like Lizardeyes, she thought, and gave the sudden derision proper to rumours such an event generated. She wished she had been there to see Gricelda’s reaction—Most likely, she still doesn’t know what happened—and Hilde’s look of satisfaction. It was always interesting to see Hilde’s eyes when she was feeling elated; they had the most fantastical of gleams!

Gricelda and Hilde have been at each other’s throats for years. One they, one will actually kill the other. Or kiss. You never know with their type. She thought as she bit into an apple. Come to think of it, she knew Hildegarde since primary school, and knew some of the things that got the girl off, but she didn’t actually know her sexual orientation. She bit into an apple and decided not to think about it. Still, if the story was true and still untarnished from rumour embellishment, Liv found it strange that Hilde had actually gone with physical violence; that wasn’t like her at all. Then again, Hilde hadn’t been like her for months. Not since finding that uniform... No, not thinking about it! Not now! Liv sighed. She hadn’t been able to voice the issue when the two friends hanged out. The topic of the uniform hung between them like oil in water, but she wasn’t able to voice it for some reason. Liv really wanted to know how Hildegarde was faring with it; obviously, Hildegarde was affected, if the bits and piece of the uniform she wore on a daily basis were any indication. Yet, Liv couldn’t see any distress on her friend. What was different?

Well, hopefully after today she would be able to bring the issue to Hildegarde’s attention. She hoped. She still had to get rid of the uniform. Liv sighed. At least some things were normal and simple; Hildegarde arguing with Gricelda over her silly ideas of clothing.

Gricelda and her silly ideas about clothing...

And idea started to form in Liv’s head. Slowly closing in.

Gricelda...

Suddenly Liv knew what to do.

The solution to her problem became as apparent as a magician’s trick once explained. She rose, with the elaborate air and dance-like movements of someone who’s life had just become that much simpler. Her lunch disappeared from her immediate memory, and was forgotten on a table as she walked and walked around the school grounds, nearly running.

When the bell rang, she was already sitting at her desk. She waited about five minutes and the professor came in, and five minutes later Gricelda and the rest of the classroom made its appearance. Liv shared not a single subject with Hilde, but she indeed shared some classes with Gricelda. Just the way some of the optional classes worked.

Smiling to herself, she patiently waited until everyone was distracted. Eventually Gricelda stood up to talk to the teacher, giving Liv the opportunity to slowly and carefully slid the plastic-wrapped uniform into Gricelda’s backpack.

The exam had gone wonderfully. Hildegarde knew she had aced it, with flying colours, with top marks, or whatever the hell one actually said in such a case. She smiled; the feeling of success had remained through the rest of the day, slowly overshadowing whatever introspective questions she had about what happened with Gricelda. Such questions could wait, now Hildegarde enjoyed and focused on other things.

The house was empty when she returned, and that was passing strange. Hildegarde called for her mom, but couldn’t find her—no note, no text in her mobile, nothing. Hildegarde considered calling her, but thought better of it. Something was off with her mother, but Hildegarde couldn’t pinpoint what it was, exactly. For the past couple of days, she had noticed that her mom was a little more made-up in the mornings, and would talk about subjects that were usually never discussed openly, like where Hildegarde would study after graduating, or what she would study, or if she would go abroad. Hildegarde was starting to think that, maybe, her mother wanted Hildegarde to make an important decision about her future soon. Ysolda had never seen worried about Hildegarde’s future education, even after learning that her daughter wasn’t doing as well as she should, but now she brought the subject up nearly every day. Who could fault a mother for worrying?

But, as curious as that was, Hildegarde knew it was but a symptom of what was truly amiss. That is not what’s bothering her. And it still doesn’t explain the hours away, though. Hildegarde thought as she opened the fridge door and pulled a jug full of water. It was easy to note her mother wasn’t at home as much as usual. For one, the amount of dirty plates was the same as it had been this morning, and her mother’s computer was as cold as ice. Sometimes, at least some years ago, Hildegarde fancied that her mother would go out and meet someone to share a life with. She is just too obsessed about this house, too enclosed. Hildegarde was actually happy that her mom wasn’t spending all the time locked up un there, but it would be nice to know where she was. It was the secrecy that bothered her. Her mom wasn’t the type to sneak around.

Maybe it was just that Hildegarde was too used to having her mom around. Adaptive disorder, Lizardeyes? This is not like you. She thought with a bemused smile.

The phone was ringing, but Hildegarde ignored it—she knew who it would be. Where’s your mother? What is she doing? Her mom’s friends would ask and Hildegarde would have to contain the desire to scream that she didn’t know. Why didn’t they just call her mobile? Could it be that her mother was finally seeing someone and hid it from Hildegarde? That thought made Hildegarde smile. No, something is bothering her. There were subtle signals, like the morning priming up, the missing hours, as well as the abandonment of her laptop; Ysolda was never far away from it. Hildegarde poured herself a glass of water and considered what other things her mother might be up to and, frankly, came up with few plausible options. Hildegarde just didn’t know Ysolda that well, beyond being her mother. At the store? Nah, she only goes there once a month. That can’t be why she is away so often. But there is something off...

As swift as lightning a thought crossed her mind. Her fingers stopped holding the glass of water, and the aluminium cup clinked and sang against the tile floor, spilling water everywhere.

“The uniform!” Hilde thought and was immediately conscious of the tight, white shirt on her torso. “She must’ve found out! She... no... If she did find out about the uniform that wouldn’t...”

She sat, confused for a long moment. Looking down at her chest, covered in white, coarse cotton; down at her legs covered in light-grey pantyhose; and her feet in black boots; she couldn’t help but wonder when she would do without the charade. Her reaction scared her; it was irrational, to say the least. Even if her mother was able to find her hiding place, she wouldn’t even guess as to what the uniforms truly were. She slumped on the chair, a hand on her face, a nervous laugh echoing in the empty house.

“Oh, come one, Hilde!” She exclaimed, quickly rising. “You’re letting this whole business take too strong a hold of your imagination.” She looked down at the spilled water, pondering. Part of what bothered her about her mom not being at home so often was that she had no one who would notice and point out the sudden change in attire, well, no one outside school. But she wasn’t too friendly with people while in school. There was something about the place that made talking to either Liv or Martie somewhat uncomfortable, so she avoided it. And since no one really knew her in school, they couldn’t comment on a deeper level.

The question still remained, though. Why continue with the painful charade? If she really wanted to wear the uniform, she could do so and just get everything over with. That way her curiosity would finally find peace.

“But I am scared.” She whispered. The water moved, slowly, covering the floor. It takes its time, water.

Just like that, Hildegarde forgot about her mom’s quirkiness.