The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

She came into consciousness in that room for the first time. No recollection of how she got there, or what she had been doing before. She first noticed how stiff her body was. Her muscles felt like they hadn’t moved in ages. Then she noticed the restraints. Then she noticed her nakedness. Then she started to panic.

She tried to wriggle in the restraints but her rigid muscles barely seemed to respond to her will. She scanned her surroundings. An empty room, tiled floor and tiled walls. A large mirror in front of her in which she could see her helpless reflection, on her knees and bound to a post with black cables. Her hair clung to the sides of her face, and her pale skin glistened with cool light from the single fluorescent bulb overhead. She now noticed she was cold and wet. A drain and a hose were off to the side of the mirror. Had she been pulled into consciousness with a blast of water from that hose? It couldn’t be: it hung neatly in a coil on the wall. Not a drop dripped down from its nozzle, but beads and beads cascaded off her naked skin, onto the floor and down into the drain. She looked upward with her eyes, her neck yet unbending, but there was no sprinkler above her that could be the culprit. She wanted to shiver but her body wouldn’t even make so slight a motion.

Suddenly the light went off in the room with a loud snap of a switch being flipped. The light went off in the room, she noticed, but not in the room in the mirror. For a brief, disoriented moment, she thought she was hallucinating. But she soon realized that what had just been a mirror was now a window. It was like one of those two-way mirrors, like in an interrogation room. The room she could now see into on the other side of it looked a lot like her own, and a girl who looked a lot like her was bound there naked in a similar fashion. The girl on the other side was looking down and crying. The girl on this side wanted to cry too but could not. The girl on the other side seemed to have better control of her body. A section of the wall on the other side that turned out to be a door opened and when the girl on the other side looked up, the girl on this side knew who she was. She wanted to cry out in the dark, “No!” but her voice too was frozen. “No, no, no,” she silently screamed. “Not my sister...!”

By the year 21XX, artificial intelligence-assisted surveillance and forensic science had progressed to the point that avoiding punishment for a heinous crime was rendered completely impossible. Governments funded these advancements with the aim of reducing the rates of violent felonies to zero, but they found little success. No matter how sure they were to be arrested, tried and convicted, no matter how unforgiving their punishment would be, certain individuals seemed phenomenologically incapable of resisting the compulsion to rape, torture, maim and kill. Radical measures would have to be taken to prevent these atrocities altogether.

She watched helpless in the dark as a man entered the room in the light, the handle-less door closing behind him. He was fully clothed, in an expensive-looking business suit, and carried with him a large black briefcase. Although she was sure she had never seen him before, something about his face seemed pressed into her memory. This was her captor. Hers, and her sister’s. He was in middle age, and his brow furrowed with a look of determination as he walked in. His hair was slightly graying, and a spray of stubble decorated his sharp jaw.

“Please,” her sister sobbed quietly from the other side of the mirror. “Please, let me go.” The man walked past her, not even deigning to look in her direction. He placed his briefcase on the ground close to the mirror and opened it up, facing away from where the girl in the dark could see inside. He then began to undress, methodically folding each article of clothing and placing it into the briefcase, all the while ignoring the whimpering pleas of the girl beside him. When he was fully nude it was obvious he treated his body with pride. He looked to be naturally built for strength, but with the well-articulated muscles that could only come from meticulous training. He was also hard, and the girl kneeling frozen in the dark could not stop herself from eyeing his length. She thought to herself that she must have been drugged.

The man reached into his briefcase and pulled out a knife. His expression was yet blank. Held up in front of him, the knife caught the light from above and the girl’s begging grew more frantic. He walked behind her and dispassionately began to cut the cords that held her to the pole. Her arms and legs were still bound when he had finished his work, and he lifted her trembling body to its feet. He walked her forward toward the mirror and leaned her over against it, knife pressed up to her throat. Finally the faintest expression could be read across his face—a smile—as he said,

“Let’s give your sister a good show then.”

The girl in the lit room looked forward at the mirror, only seeing a reflection of herself, the fear in her face turning to abject horror as their situation began to dawn on her. The girl in the dark could see her sister pressed up against the glass. In clear view, her expression changed once again, this time to excruciating pain as the man abruptly penetrated her. The knife dug into her neck ever so slightly with the thrust, drawing a thin line of blood streaking down the knife and across the mirror.

She wanted to look away from the scene of her sister being brutalized, but she was transfixed. She was paralyzed, heartbroken, terrified. But something deep in her, that she knew could not naturally have been there, felt hot. Her body was covered in icy water, but a heat began to swell within her. The tense muscles in her lower body began to relax and she was able to twist in her restraints. Her bound legs rubbed up against each other, as if of their own volition. Revolted as she was, the cold wetness between her legs soon gave way to a warmth that too trickled down into the drain...

An extensive series of longitudinal studies into the psychology of repeat offenders of extreme violence was commissioned. It was found that in particular individuals, no threat of punishment and no amount of counseling would be enough to deter future infractions. It was determined that the only recourse would be to allow the offenses to continue, but in a controlled manner, and in a controlled environment.

If their aberrant desires could be sufficiently placated, these individuals posed no risk to their communities, and could be integrated as productive members of society. Indeed, a great many proved their worth as scientists, business moguls and political leaders once their minds were clear of their mutual compulsion.

He dropped the knife on the ground in the throes of passion and wrapped both his hands around her throat still slick with blood. His hips pounded with ever increasing ferocity as he drove himself into her. His once vacant expression was now replaced with an unabashed look of sadistic pleasure. Tears streamed down her face as his grip tightened. She tried to gasp for air but to no avail. He grunted with each thrust. Her eyes rolled back in her head. He made no move to let up.

The girl kneeling in the dark room on the other side of the glass was now practically convulsing. Her fragile mind could not process the dissociated feeling of her body moving as if controlled by an outside force, the emotional devastation of watching her own sister die horribly in front of her very eyes, and the approaching orgasm that already consumed her with sensory overload. Guilt, grief, and confusion mingled with intense hatred and inexplicable lust for the man before her. A steady stream of her juices drooled down her legs.

Her climax came the very moment her sister seemed to lose consciousness across the mirror. It racked her body and soul with wave after wave of the most intense physical pleasure and emotional pain she had ever known. The man continued to pound away at the lifeless girl in his clutches for a few more moments before he suddenly pulled out of her, picked the knife up back off the floor, held her up by one hand and sliced it off at the wrist.

At first the girl on this side didn’t understand what she was looking at. She was still recovering from the deluge of sensations she’d just experienced, and she blinked blearily as the man held up her sister’s hand close to the mirror. Where there should have been bone, sinew, and muscle visible from the severed edge, there were instead black fibers and elastics. Though her skin and blood looked natural, an occasionally sparking metallic core could be seen underneath. The thing he’d just tormented... That wasn’t her sister at all.

Of course subjecting any kind of human participant to the brutality of these individuals would be unacceptable both morally and logistically. Lifelike, artificially intelligent androids were enlisted instead to help satisfy whatever perversions they could. As long as the androids reacted in a manner indistinguishable from human victims, the perpetrators’ thirst for violence could be slaked.

The light in her room suddenly went back on with another loud snap, and the mirror once again showed nothing but her own reflection. She saw herself still bound in the same position as before, once again paralyzed, and covered in her own fluids. Soon an unseen door to her room opened and the sweat-drenched man entered at a fast clip, grinning a horrible grin and brandishing the bloody knife and his rock-hard dick.

He came up behind the girl, and this time cut away all of the ropes that bound her, but she still could not move.

“Have you figured it out yet?” he asked, dropping the knife to the floor. “Stand up.”

She did so immediately, her legs moving on their own, not even shaking despite how unstable she felt they should be.

“You and her are both mine to play with. Suck her juices off my cock.”

Her knees buckled and fell back down to the ground and her mouth opened and plunged forward, all on their own. Though her actions were not her own, all the sensations were fully hers to suffer through. She wanted to gag at the taste and at the fullness but even her involuntary muscles were under complete control.

“Are you beginning to understand your own programming?” he asked with a grunt. “Your memories, your existence, your consciousness exist for no other reason than to serve my desires.”

She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to bite his dick off and fight back. But none of that was possible. Her software was well-tested by artificial intelligence quality assurance professionals. Nothing could get her body to go against its programming.

“Don’t worry about the other android. We’ll get her patched up and ready for more fun in no time at all...”

The one solace of her sister’s death was that her suffering was supposed to be over. It turns it it isn’t. Even when this human dies, another could be brought in to torture her in his place.

“Stop.” She did. “Turn around and put your face on the floor and your ass in the air.”

Her face pressed itself against the drain, the metal grate digging painfully into her cheek, and the stench of everything that had collected below—not just today, but for a long time—filled her nostrils. Her hips obediently pushed upward and he shoved himself giddily into her asshole.

“Don’t worry,” he said, ridiculing her. “You’ll get to join in on the fun again too. And we won’t want to ruin the surprise that you’re a soulless puppet built purely for my amusement, will we? So we’ll have to erase your memories of all our fun today.”

She wanted to retch. She wanted to die. But mostly, she wanted to forget.

“But don’t worry. I’ll still remember. Just like I still remember all the times we’ve been through this already. And since it’s new for you two, somehow it never loses the excitement for me. Be proud of what a good job you’re doing keeping me happy.” He began to thrust harder and deeper, leaving no corner of her body nor mind unviolated. “You have my permission to speak now.”

The muscles in her mouth and throat finally relaxed. They returned to her. She could use them however she wanted. She could tell him anything. But she kept silent.

“And that’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” he said chest puffing up in pride at how thoroughly he’d ruined his plaything today. And with that final proverbial knife twisted, he grabbed her ass cheeks and started to pump her full of his human seed. Despite how thoroughly disgusted she felt, she was relieved that he was finally done with her for the day and would soon let her forget again. Even though that meant going through it all again anew, forgetting, however briefly, would be a blessing.

He pulled himself out of her with a sigh, and reached down to grab the knife off the floor yet again.

“As satisfied as I am,” he started, “my calendar is totally clear for the rest of the day.” She wanted to cry out, “No!” but she had no strength to give voice to it. “No, no, no,” she thought.

“Let’s move forward with some stress-testing,” he said, fingering the knife. “The guys at QA always appreciate my thorough feedback.”

Most psychopaths are content to imagine the androids as human and torment them according to that fantasy. But continued research has shown that a select few are most fully aroused to reveal to the androids their true identity and purpose, to impose existential torture upon them on top of the psychological, physical and/or sexual torture they already endure. Science has been unable as of yet to determine the precise nature of consciousness. Though these androids react as we expect humans to, whether they experience their treatment as humans would remains unknown. But if we consider it to be a possibility,the ethical ramifications ought to give pause. Though undue human suffering is prevented through this program, perhaps undue android suffering is perpetuated. This raises the ultimate question of this report: Is it any better?