The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It was a month after spring break. Master Bigfoot had long since given up trying to control his own size 18 feet, which now dictated his every move. Often they would take him to wherever his Slave Petey was, and he would then find himself forced to order Petey to lick his feet, or jerk off on them, or whatever they wanted. For the most part, Bigfoot’s feet allowed him to conduct his normal life; they took him to his classes, the cafeteria and the gym at the appropriate times. And his college wrestling career was going incredibly well. Whenever he got into position to begin a match, just enough hypnotizing foot stink would escape his shoes to envelop him and his opponent, so that when the match began, the opponent would feel an intense subconscious need to submit, and would be pinned in seconds, with no idea how it happened. And for days after the match, the opponent would remember those few seconds in glorious detail, and cum time after time, not sure why.

On this fine afternoon, Master Bigfoot was in his room working on his laptop, shoes off, with his Slave Petey under the table massaging his toes with his deft little fingers. The odor in the room from the giant unwashed feet was overwhelming, having long since fried the mind of Bigfoot’s preppy blond lacrosse-player roommate Will. The poor guy was on his knees, hands together under his chin, silently praying to the Holy Feet. Suddenly, one of Will’s lacrosse buddies, a tall, black-haired stud named Daryl, barged into the room without knocking, exclaimed “What the hell...” until the mindfucking odor overcame him; he froze in shock, and with some silent mind-guidance from Petey, soon Daryl was on his knees next to Will, praying along.

Soon Daryl found an idea in his head, and he shared it with Will. “You know, we should bring the rest of the lacrosse team here, one at a time, until all of them have learned of their religious obligation to worship the Holy Feet.”

Little Petey walked over to the kneeling lacrosse slaves, and played with the rich black hair of the newcomer. “You know, as High Priest of the Holy Feet, it’s my job to please the Feet physically quite often. But what I don’t have is someone to fuck, and after an intense foot worship session, I have certain needs. Daryl, would you accept the position of Cum Receptacle to the High Priest of the Holy Feet?”

A wave of gratitude and deep humility swept over the helpless jock, and his long, slender cock firmed at the thought of being used by Bigfoot’s little clergyman-slave. “Of course, Father. I can only hope that when Will here and I help you complete the enslavement of the entire lacrosse team, that you won’t find someone better to serve as your official Cum Receptacle.”

Petey liked the idea of the mind-controlled jock thinking of him as High Priest and calling him “Father”. He continued twisting Daryl’s hair, this time painfully, but the slave was careful not to show any distress. “Well, Daryl, that will depend on who shows the most humility at our worship services.” And who offers the tightest, warmest orifices, he thought.

Slave/Father Petey contemplated the possibilities. The lacrosse team didn’t consist of muscular giants, like the football and wrestling teams, nor were they tall and lean like the basketball team. The lacrosse guys seemed to be uniformly good-looking, athletic, young-faced, and (mostly) rich. Surely they would be a gold mine of enslaved sex and indulgent luxury once they were under the power of the Holy Feet.

Just a few days later, there were six lacrosse players worshiping in the room. Master Bigfoot had learned to ignore them as he did his school work across the room. Petey, his slave and his feet’s High Priest, worked on the deepening enslavement of the lacrosse acolytes.

One of the new recruits noticed the huge reeking frayed size 18 shoes that lay beside Master Bigfoot’s desk. “I’d happily trade my new Beemer for those shoes,” he said.

Father Petey smiled indulgently. “Sorry, Ken, the shoes are one of a kind and are surely worth much more than your car. However, since Master Bigfoot doesn’t have a car, I’m sure the Holy Feet would be glad to accept your car as a donation, and then you might be allowed to, er, BORROW the shoes from time to time, you know, for special purposes.

“Once the whole team belongs to this group, we would consider bringing the shoes into your locker room before games, which could help you win,” said Petey. By having the mind-bending odor fry your minds into total submission to the cause of victory, thought Petey.

“I will also point out that things are getting tight in this room for worship services, and we’re going to need a much larger room, especially when your whole team joins our sacred rites. If someone could buy or rent us enough space for the year, I might even be able to provide a few minutes of private foot worship time for the generous guy.” This possibility caused six lacrosse-jock cocks to firm up in anticipation.

Petey looked over his studly group of lacrosse slaves. He thought, Right now I think that that redhead over there needs to develop the idea in his mind to kneel and beg his High Priest to perform a sacred ceremony of thorough ass and throat filling. Petey concentrated, and in a moment the other five lacrosse slaves stood up simultaneously and marched robotically single file out the door. A second thought, and Master Bigfoot suddenly found himself standing up and his powerful out-of-control feet carrying him involuntarily out of his own room into the hallway. And with Petey’s third thought, the lanky, tight-muscled lacrosse redhead found himself on his knees in front of the little High Priest and in serious need of holy fluid...

Hi, Master Bieber here. I was desperately working to finish a paper that was due the next day when I suddenly stood up, my cock inflated, and I knew I had to go downstairs immediately and order my Slave Benny to play with my balls. I also got the strong feeling that I ought to force him to spank me until my butt turned red, in order to encourage me to stay on track until I finished the paper. It’s good to have a slave at your absolute command to help with things like this.

I went down to the slave cage and sat on the pink-covered mattress, informing Slave Benny what I was ordering him to do. He smiled and began to skillfully manipulate my oversized balls, keeping me right at the edge for a torturous amount of time while his cute little concentrating frown somehow prevented me from going over the edge. It drove me insane, yet I needed more and more of it.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the cage, there stood, frozen and with that familiar blank expression, a near seven-foot blond giant of a young man. Pacing angrily back and forth in front of him was a five-two pipsqueak of a slave who I recognized as Lonnie-something, a member of the drama club. I knew he had an incredibly melodic high tenor voice from a performance in a musical on the quad the previous week. But he seemed to be upset about something as he paced.

I also noticed something unusual about the scene. The jumbo Master was not wearing a chestplate device, nor was the young slave wearing the metal cap with the antennae. Could this be the new implant version of the Slave Compliance Device that I had heard Benny talk about?

Slave Benny was advising Lonnie, “Hey, don’t bond angry. You should be grateful that Master Ginger brought him here to be your Master. He’s the tallest, most athletic member of the basketball team. And I know you like them that way.”

Lonnie snapped, “Well, yeah, I do. But Master Towerboy here went to high school with me. He was a senior there while I was a freshman. And he ignored me the entire time. It would drive me crazy to have to see him there every day. Every afternoon I would have to race home and shoot huge loads of cum just imagining him with me. But he never even spoke to me!”

Slave Benny responded. “Well, it’s kind of normal for a high school senior not to have much to do with a freshman. So what exactly did he do to you that’s making you so mad today?”

“It’s not what he did, it’s what he DIDN’T do. He never once stripped naked, crawled to my feet, and said, ‘You deserve to control my body and my mind. You have a scrawny little body and I have such a big, good-looking powerful one, and that’s totally unfair. Please, I beg you, do anything you want to any part of me. I totally deserve it.’ Not once did he do that!”

“I see. That was terrible of him. So what to you intend to do to punish him for that?” said Benny with a smile.

“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to fill him with the most intense craving for me, his slave, to the point where he can’t stand it anymore. But he’ll only be able to order me to have sex with other Masters. He’ll try and try, but he won’t be able to order me to have sex with HIM, no matter how intensely he needs it. And he’ll know he can’t cum unless he’s with ME. That should be quite the punishment!”

“Well, I think you’re wasting a perfectly good Master. He could be totally in love with you, you know. You could make him feel awful about never having approached you in high school, and feel the need 24/7 to make it up to you any way he can. You could have him beg and plead, do anything you want sexually, even humiliate himself in public or in front of his old high school friends to make it up to you.”

Little Lonnie seemed to have calmed down a bit. He ran his hand along the taut muscles in Master Towerboy’s long coltish legs. His fingers explored the Master’s ball sacs that were longer and larger than Lonnie’s whole hand, as the long, floppy firehose draped over those balls shifted from side to side. He reached up and squeezed the firm pecs on the massive chest, and tweaked the nipples, with the giant showing no change in facial expression as they firmed up. He rubbed the baseball-sized biceps that framed the powerful upper body. He even managed to reach up and stroke the thin stubble on the young-looking Master’s chin. And that’s as far up as little Lonnie could comfortably reach.

“Well, OK, maybe you’re right,” concluded Lonnie. “I think I’ll still have him crave me constantly and get seriously jealous when he sees me being fucked by other Masters. But I can’t resist the idea of having the big lug inside me, and him wanting me inside HIM. I mean, look at how perfect he is!” Lonnie slapped the huge hanging cock, causing it to swing from side to side again.

“I know what would be fun to do with him. I could stage a fake gay wedding, and make him believe it was real. All his basketball buddies would attend, all formally dressed up. I’d wear a really fancy tux, but I’d make him dress up in a skanky revealing bridal gown out of some porn movie. Just imagine that photo, the conservative five-two groom next to the slutty seven-foot bride! Then after the fake ceremony, I’d push him face down on the table, on top of the cake, tear off the dress, and take him right there, in front of his basketball team! Whaddaya think?”

Benny laughed out loud. “Yeah, that would serve him right for having teased you that whole year without even knowing who you were! Don’t forget to invite all us slaves to the ‘wedding’, we might find a good use for all the other suddenly hungry-assed members of the basketball team while you’re at it on top of the cake with Bridezilla!”

Lonnie was now licking the long fingers of his soon-to-be Master, not angry any more and presumably assuring a decent bonding process with his implanted giant. Soon enough, Master Ginger and the rest of the basketball team would almost certainly be implanted with the new devices, and they could then bring their slaves along to away games, so the slaves could reward them after wins and console them after losses.

Slave Benny turned to me. “OK Master, I’m done with your grotesquely large Bieberballs, now roll over so I can redden your juicy ass like you commanded me to. And look, I ordered a frat paddle through Amazon Prime for your prime jock ass. See, it’s personalized!” He held it up, and on it was engraved: “For Exclusive Use on Master Bieber’s Ass”.

I was shocked. “How did you know to order—” Whack! He came down hard, it stung badly, and I jumped a bit. “Stay still,” he said, and suddenly I couldn’t budge an inch. “This is going to hurt you a lot more than it hurts me,” he cracked. Whack! “You know, the good thing about this personalized paddle—” Whack! “—is that ANYONE will be able to use it on your ass!” Whack! “If you see anyone lift it—” Whack! “—you’ll immediately assume the position—” Whack! “—whether it’s one of your baseball buddies—” Whack! “—someone else’s slave—” Whack! “—your younger brother—” Whack! “—or even a girlfriend, although that seems a lot less likely now...” Whack! For some reason, the combination of the paddling and what Slave Benny was saying was making my cock grow longer and harder than ever. What was happening to me?

The punishment went on and on until my ass felt completely raw. Finally, Benny put down the paddle. “OK, Master, that should encourage you to finish your paper, assuming you can sit on that red ass long enough to do it. But I’m also a thoughtful slave, and I brought you some soothing ointment.” I felt something cool and wonderful being applied to my sore butt. Slave Benny’s loving fingers made their way spreading the salve around the outside, but then seemed to focus on my ass crack, where a long thin finger soon found its way into my hole, then another, then yet another. And suddenly I knew what I needed more than anything!

“Slave Benny, I order you to fuck me as long and as hard as you can! I know with my battered ass it’s going to hurt like hell having you on top of me, but I need it more than I’ve ever needed anything in my life!” And I noticed that Slave Benny’s cock was already fully hard and ready to obey my command... what a great slave!

As Benny’s four-inch titanium slavecock destroyed my ass virginity, the alternating pain and pleasure drove me wild, yet fortunately I was somehow prevented from cumming until Benny was ready to shoot. When I intuitively knew he was ready, I ordered, “Now!” And we simultaneously shot our loads, Benny deep into my ass and me onto the slave cage mattress cover. Benny sat up, scooped up some of the globs of my cum, and spread them over my sore ass cheeks. “That should help the pain a bit. Don’t wash it off.” And I found I couldn’t, not that night and not the next morning. The crusted cum stayed on me all day. Weird.

“I think I may have made a mistake with my little brother Norm,” confided Marine Private Charlie to his fellow Private Brett as they prepared for bed. Their totally straight buddy Private Jason was under the bed licking every spot of dirt off of Brett’s boots, not understanding why we was compelled to do it and hating every minute, except that the long tubular outline stretching down his pants leg to near his kneecap showed that at some level he was enjoying it.

“I thought you protected Norm at boot camp from our old Drill Instructor. Didn’t it work?”

“Too well, I’m afraid. You see, it turns out that Norm is gay. And in our macho-oriented family, there was never a chance for him to do anything about it throughout high school without there being serious trouble. So having been repressed all that time, I’m afraid he’s abusing the power I gave him over Sgt Willis. I never thought I’d feel sorry for that tough-as-nails son of a bitch, but I think Norm is pushing things too far. Of course Willis has no idea why he’s ordering Norm to perform all sorts of perverted acts with him, but naturally he can’t stop himself from doing it or tell anyone about it. The best he can do is hide it from the other recruits and NCOs.”

“What’s Norm making the Sarge do?”

“Well, Norm seems to have found a way to convert each of the training exercises they’re supposed to do into a sex act. You already saw what happened with the push-ups in that video. By the way, Sarge was forced to use his phone to take that video and forward it to Norm. He’s recording all the perverted exercises—the naked wall climb with dildo up the ass, the sucking-off during pull-ups, the cock-up-the-ass tandem runs, everything. And that doesn’t even cover the quarter-decking punishments, where Norm sometimes mindfucks another cute recruit and has the Sarge order the two of them to... well, you get the idea. And the Sarge is forced to keep all these videos on his phone, unable to delete them and afraid someone will find out. He now believes that the Marine core values are harder, deeper, faster. He ‘ordered’ Norm to whip him mercilessly with a small tree branch to demonstrate how tough he is. His mind is being fucked up completely.

“Little Norm is really getting off on having the tough DI being forced to be his personal sex toy. He even told me he plans to have a newly commissioned young lieutenant fresh out of training ‘discover’ the videos on the Sarge’s phone and ‘step the action up a notch’! What do you suppose that means?”

On the floor, Jason moaned with pleasure as his tongue found and cleaned off a spot of dirt on the sole of Brett’s left boot. He did avoid shooting off in his pants, though. What discipline!

Brett considered Charlie’s problem. “Maybe we should dial back Norm’s power a bit, before orgies break out all over the base. But then how can we protect him from being humiliated by washing out?”

Jason had now started slobbering over one of Brett’s bare feet. Brett mashed his foot down on Jason’s face to stop the slobbering. “And how can I turn Jason ‘off’ without him getting outraged and beating me up?”

How indeed.

Assistant professor of psychology Leonard Merk, age 28, was looking through his lab for a set of notes he had misplaced when he came across the locked cabinet. That was quite annoying—this was HIS lab, and yet he didn’t seem to have a key for this cabinet. As far as he knew, this particular cabinet had always been empty. So why was it locked?

Professor Merk was known by all to be gay, but felt he had a professional responsibility not to get involved with his students, even though he found some of the twenty-something guys very attractive.

At this late hour, only one person was working in the lab, a small-built undergraduate guy named Jonas. Prof. Merk secretly found Jonas quite sexy, but he knew Jonas was straight; in fact Jonas was engaged to be married the following month. Oh well, thought the prof, too bad. Jonas was working at a computer at the other side of the lab, facing away from the professor.

Prof. Merk started tugging at the cabinet door. Maybe the flimsy lock could be broken open. He could have it replaced later. Sure enough, the prof was able to snap the lock open and get into the cabinet.

Where he saw something he was not prepared for.

In the cabinet was a stack of metal caps, positioned so that the antennae on top of one cap would not prevent the next cap from stacking. As the jock dorm slave club had begun to replace the caps with the newer chestplate devices and now with the implants, they had no immediate use for the caps. So as they became unneeded, Slave Benny began to store them in the locked cabinet.

Prof. Merk had no idea what the caps were. He pulled one out and placed it on his head; nothing seemed to happen. Just then, Jonas got out of his seat in front of the computer. Prof. Merk looked up and thought: For a little guy, Jonas sure has an incredible ass. I’d love to see it naked.

Almost immediately, across the lab, without turning around, Jonas removed his shoes and socks, took off his pants, and dropped his boxers, revealing his glorious butt to Prof. Merk, who was both shocked and turned on at once. How could that have happened? he thought. Lifting the cap off his head, the prof examined it. As soon as it was off his head, Jonas seemed to suddenly realize what he had done, climbed quickly into his pants, and went running out of the lab carrying his shoes, socks and underwear.

“Hmm...” thought the professor, examining the cap more closely.