The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“What does it feel like, Carol?” His voice came from behind her, gentler than before. “Are you aware of what’s happening?”

“You bastard! You bastard! Why me!” she whispered.

“I’ll take that as a ‘Yes’,” he said, “but in answer to your question: why you? Because you are young and beautiful, and well-built, if I may say so.” A hand snaked around to cup her breast. “Because, as you so helpfully told Mira at the club, you have just moved here, and have few friends, and because you are out of touch with your family.” She heard him move, and saw his tear-blurred image in front of her. Her eyes remained glued to the ceiling. He continued: “What have we done to you? Do you remember that drink we gave you? It contained a plant extract—from a South American orchid, apparently; something we’re calling ‘Cattle-Eyes’. You must remember that!

“Anyway, as far as I can understand, it works a bit like hypnotism, although the effect is much, much more powerful. While you were under, we could do absolutely anything to you, make you tell us anything we wished to know and, most usefully, we could ‘program’ you. You are seeing the result of that now.”

“No,” she sobbed, “there’s no such thing. It’s not possible.”

She could imagine his cruel smile. “And yet there you stand, my own programmed little doll.”

“Puh, Please! You have to let me go. Undo it, please!”

“Hmmm...” she heard the rasp of hand on chin stubble. “I think not. Not that we can, even. Mira tells me the effects are permanent. Even if we put you under again, we couldn’t just say, ‘forget all the commands’. It’s cumulative. You’re just going to have to get used to it.”

She was sobbing uncontrollably now, the tears running down her neck and chest. She was utterly violated, far more so than if she’d been raped. The thought that this slavery could never end filled her with horror and dread.

“Oh, stop blubbing, woman, or I’ll silence you again. Now let’s get on with the test.”

She felt dizzy with panic, almost passing out. Her blood fizzed with adrenaline; her heart thudded madly. Externally, though, she kept her pose perfectly, her leg muscles reacting to keep her body still despite her surging blood.

“As you will have gathered, you have no say whatever in this. Now, I’ve got a list here somewhere. Ah!” There was a rustle. “Now, Follow Me.”

She found that she could lower her arms and head, and took an experimental step back. He had already walked past her, though, and she was not surprised at all to find herself walking meekly behind him. Her arms were hers for now, though, and she used them to cover her nakedness as best she could.

Predictably, horrifyingly, he led her into the bedroom. He manoeuvred her to the foot of the bed.

“Stand at Ease.” Her hands flew behind her back—and she was immobile again,.

“Please don’t do this,” she sobbed. “Please…”

“Silence. Well I did warn you, didn’t I? Now, get on the bed.”

She didn’t move, except to blink in surprise.

“Er, that’s wrong.” There was a rustling of paper again. “Lie on the Bed.”

She crawled onto it and rolled onto her back, positioning herself in the middle of the double bed, her head on the pillow, legs together, arms by her side. Again she stared at a spot on the ceiling. Her dread deepened.

“Now let’s put you through your paces. Adopt Position One.”—Her body sprung to obey him, and in a moment she was spread-eagled, arms touching the bed-head, legs spread wide. “Adopt Position Two.”—She curled her legs up and gripped them one in each hand, just behind the knee, and spread herself wide open. “Adopt position three.”—She let go of her feet, curled them beneath her so that her knees were bent double, then gripped her feet again, spreading her knees and arching her back to lift her sex into the air…

And so it continued. At his command, she presented herself for fucking in every position she had ever thought of, and a lot more besides. Soon he was firing off commands at random, never giving her a moment’s rest. She panted with exertion, and writhed and writhed, the bedclothes sticking to her sweat-sheened body as she performed for him. Finally, he told her to “Lie on the Bed” again, and she gratefully returned to her first, relaxed pose. Duvet and pillows scattered around her.

He sat beside her on the bed, and she mentally cringed away from him. Was this it? He was suddenly silent—frighteningly so!

Sure enough, she felt his finger tracing the curve beneath her breast, then a nail slowly dragging from her armpit towards her nipple. Oddly, she was experiencing a strange anticipation for the moment of contact, and when it came, she felt an intense stab of pleasure, which echoed as a tightening of the muscles of her sex.

“Good?” he whispered. She couldn’t answer, and naturally the question was rhetorical. He softly gripped both of the new nipple-rings, then shook them, as one would a saltshaker. The flesh of her breasts vibrated in response, creating a surge of delight so intense that she couldn’t breathe until he stopped.

“You May Whisper. What do you think?”

“Please don’t…” He repeated the shaking, harder. “Ssssssss!” He continued for long seconds, and again her breasts and sex seemed to respond with electric intensity.

“I take it you are enjoying this.” He released her nipples and took a firm grip of her full breasts, starting to knead them roughly as if they were bread dough.

“Agh!” It hurt, but far outweighing the pain was the growing sensation of intense pleasure and arousal. “Don’t stop!”

He immediately did, of course. “I am ze von giffing ze commants! Do I detect a change in attitude, though?” She felt him leave the bed.

“Please don’t stop!” What was she saying? Was this more of the conditioning, or was she just being naturally carried off on a cloud of pleasure? “Oh, Jesus! What’s happening to me?”

“You just experienced some of the up-side. We told you that any sexual play would be ten times as pleasurable. I take it that it’s working.”

She was quiet. She had already answered that question, but she thought to herself, but I’m still just a puppet!

“Fine. Anyway, I have to get some things. Play With Yourself.”

It was another command, sending her hands to play at breast and sex, pinching and pressing. “Hey!” she whispered in indignation, but she was already soaking wet! And the same powerful arousal began to grow again. Her hands didn’t stay still, but squeezed, massaged and explored, searching for the most intense sensation. In a moment she realised that she was coming, and then BANG! The sheer intensity of her orgasm shattered her reason. She no longer cared what was happening to her, or even who she was… and her hands kept moving, circling…

“Lie on the Bed.” Despite her own desperate desire for them to continue their work, her hands immediately returned to her sides. “You were certainly having fun, weren’t you?” She knew she should have been ashamed, or angry, or afraid, but she just felt dizzy from the aftermath of her pleasure, and indescribably horny!

“Now it’s my turn,” he said. “Suck Me Off.”

She sat up and found him standing to her side. Straight away she slid across the bed and knelt on the floor in front of him, her hands working to undo his belt and fly. He stood passively as she pulled down his pants and boxer shorts to reveal his hardening cock. The warm, masculine smell of him filled her nostrils, nauseating her, but her hands continued against her will, kneading and milking him, then guiding him into her mouth. Like a spectator, she watched as her body expertly tended to him, rubbing, licking, biting and sucking. Some part of her mind was orchestrating this, calculating how best to arouse him and please him: a part she no longer seemed to have access to. It was frightening, and yet although she no longer felt the intense, unnatural pleasure, she still felt as horny as all Hell from her own masturbation.

After a minute or two of rapt silence, he took two handfuls of her hair and began to assist her, working her head roughly back and forth so that she was forced to swallow his full length. Her hands had found his hips, and her own arms were working away, too.

“Oh, arghh! Stop!” Her body ignored him, despite him pulling viciously at her hair, sucking at him as his cock twitched in the prelude to orgasm. “Kneel, for God’s sake!”

This time he had found a command. Sick with lust, shivering with excitement, she desperately tried to resist, but she couldn’t stop herself from sitting back on her knees, hands resting calmly in her lap. She was intensely aware of her dripping-wet sex, inches from her immobile fingers, and of his long, hard cock waving in front of her.

“Now what?” she murmured hoarsely.

“Hmmm… So many options.” He bent to strip away his pants, then stood again, so that his bouncing, hard penis again dominated her frozen viewpoint. “What would you like me to do, Carol?”

“I would like you to fuck me.”

“I’m sure you would. This conditioning is really powerful, isn’t it?”

“Yes! Please make love to me!”

“Not yet, my pet. Stand Tall.”

“Pl…” she tried to say as she stood.

“Silence. Eyes Closed.”

And that was the end of their conversation, of course. She discovered that it was challenging to stand still with your eyes shut, especially when your nipples were being pulled and twisted by their newly acquired rings. He gripped her tightly, his erection pressed firmly against her arse and hip. She gasped as his finger explored her soaking, throbbing slit for a moment. Then his hands left her.

She would have screamed in frustration—if only she could make a sound.

“Time for the next experiment. I Release You.”

And she was entirely free for the first time in hours. Free to spin round and grip her tormentor by the waist, then to topple back onto the bed, pulling him down on top of her.

“Fuck me, you bastard! Fuck me hard!”

Laughing maliciously, he lifted himself up away from her quivering body and reached down to take her ankles in a vice-like grip and spread them wide, opening her for his perusal. She stared up at his smirking, lust-filled face and was suddenly fearful again. Even in her brazen pose, she felt the need to cover her exposed, swaying tits, but the brush of her fingers against nipples sent fresh surges of arousal and lust through her. Her eyes took in his tensed stomach muscles, his throbbing, bulbous erection as it inched forward, then touched her, then thrust hard and deep into her.

The shock of penetration took her breath away. Unconcerned for her sensitivities, Simeon fired up a powerful, punishing rhythm, his pelvis crashing into hers at every thrust.

It should have been agony, but instead, she was propelled straight into a state of sheer animal pleasure. Some part of her mind registered her own screams of ecstasy, cut off by an angry “Silence!”, but she was in no state to care.

It ended, far too soon, Simeon abruptly pulling out of her and looming over her on fisted hands and toes. She lay between his arms on the rumpled, stained bed sheet, shivering and panting in the aftermath, and stared into his eyes as he drank in the spectacle of her.

He was still erect! He hadn’t even come!

A fresh wave of lust overcame her. In enforced silence, she rose to her elbows and pressed herself against him, her eyes and body pleading for more.

He moved in response, grinding hips against hers, his erection ploughing the valley between her labia, then he grinned and pushed himself away from her. “Assume Position Seven,” he commanded.

She found herself rolling around onto her front, then bending her legs and spreading her knees beneath her, presenting her arse to him. Her chest, head and arms pressed tight against the bedsheets.

Oh God Oh God Oh God, she thought, please don’t keep me waiting! With a grateful sigh, she felt hands close vice-like on her waist and his cock pushing against her sex, smoothly and quickly sliding into her, and once more she was off into blissful oblivion.

Presently he let out a yell and pushed himself away from her. Hot droplets splashed over her arse and back, and she knew it was over.

She could hear him in the shower, humming tunelessly to himself: in high spirits.

He had not seen fit to release her from her pose. In the minutes since he had left her, the mindless lust had faded, and her reason had slowly returned. Now, arse in the air, head down with one ear pressed to the bed, she stared at the bedside clock, the glowing numerals just visible over her frozen arm. It was eleven o’clock in the morning.

When had all this hell started? It had already been light when Simeon had arrived—maybe eight o’clock? Her ordeal had lasted about three hours?

But she had no idea even what day it was. Her last memory was of her violent episode in the chair, and watching the rope cutting into her wrist. That had been Friday night, or more likely the early hours of Saturday morning. She had been thinking of today as later that same day, but there in front of her eyes were nearly healed scars and rope-burns: evidence that all that had been weeks earlier!

Her feelings were terribly confused. Had she just been raped? Her own words echoed in her mind’s ear: Fuck me, you bastard! Fuck me hard! She had been gagging for it, and when he finally did the deed, the pleasure had been beyond her wildest fantasies. Even now the memory sent tingles down her spine and had her wishing for more of the same. But that didn’t change the fact that she was still a helpless slave, that her mind and body were utterly violated.

She refused to let self-pity overcome her again, and resolved to break this conditioning. Perhaps if she could move just a finger—even just twitch it a little. She stared at her hand and concentrated, willing her fingers to grip the sheet…

Nothing. It was useless. Her hand might as well have belonged to someone else.

Her silent battle with her own body was curtailed by Simeon’s return. Carpet-muffled footsteps traced his path from the bathroom to her bed, and his hand fell with a sharp smack! on her behind.

“We need to get you cleaned up,” his voice was brisk. “You have an appointment. Time for a few more commands. Relieve Yourself.”

And after her long minutes of total paralysis, she was instantly up and padding into her bathroom. Utterly insensitive to her modesty, Simeon simply leaned on the doorjamb and watched, and her body seemed to agree with him, sitting on the toilet and emptying its bladder without hesitation. Once finished, she found herself frozen again, enthroned, hands on knees.

“Now, Carol,” he said, “I want you to take a shower and get ready. You know that I can just stand you in the shower and clean you myself, but I’m sure you’d rather do it yourself. Is it a deal? You May Whisper.”

She thought for a moment. Now that she had cooled down, the thought of those hands on her body revolted her. “OK.”

“Good. I thought you’d agree. Now here’s the deal. You’re leaving: permanently. You won’t need much, and if you behave I’ll let you do it all yourself: shower, dress and pack. If you call out or try to get away, I’ll finish you myself, and I promise that you won’t enjoy it one bit. Understand?”

“Yes.” Her voice was small, meek.

“Fine, then. I Release You. I’ll be in the lounge. Make plenty of noise so that I know you’re still there.” He was true to his word, turning and leaving her to it.

For a minute it actually felt strange to be free, to be able to stand and move around as she wished. Her mind considered a dozen impossible escape strategies, but his supreme self-confidence was well-placed—her only exit was through the flat, and through him. Her number of options totalled precisely one. She stepped into the shower and started her given task.