The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I’m not sure how I got here, displayed like a stripper staring at an incredibly wealthy set of passengers at 35,000 feet in the air. I still had mostly questions myself. Nevertheless, I ran my latex covered hands up the sides of my abdomen before cupping my humongous and exposed breasts like an experienced erotic dancer. I squeezed my new nipple piercings and latex pasties while facing an impressed, excited, and yet subdued crowd. I let out a moan of pleasure and traced one finger up from my nipple, along my latex covered collar and neck, sliding gracefully over my latex hooded head before pressing it between my new luscious lips and began to suck on it as though it were another delicious cock. The Rich men and women riding the plane were all transfixed on me as they grew wide eyed watching my irresistible body dance. I dropped to my hands and knees and thrust out my ass, then crawled to and fro while my tits dangled below my chest.

I was performing better than any latex-fetish pornstar ever had (not to mention I was sexier), but somehow I had never done this before. In fact, I didn’t even want to be doing this. Or did I? I wasn’t completely sure anymore. All of these skills, these clothes, and even this body, were more or less foreign to me. And so were the passengers. All of them were strangers. This was some flight I found myself on, in which there were only first class seats and the in-flight entertainment was better than any Thai sex show. Eventually I heard the voice of my master yell “upright, Slave!” before she walked onto stage with me and re-attached my chain leash. I stood up obediently on my ultra-high-heeled latex ballet boots and thrust out my chest. A small amount of turbulence hit the plane and my breasts jiggled on display.

“And now we shall start the bidding” my master announced to the rest of the passengers.

So I guess I’ll fill you in on how I got here, even though that seems unnecessary now. My name was Myra, and I was a bit of a flower child. I had just finished college in California with a major in sociology and a minor in women’s studies. Without many job offerings out of school, I took a two and a half month trip to Southeast Asia, and did the typical “just out of school” backpacking and travelling trip. I had spent one month in Vietnam before spending a few weeks in Cambodia, and the rest I spent in Thailand. Now that my vacation was over and I was walking through Bangkok’s Suvarnabhumi Airport, I had no other obligations in life than to find myself. I decided that on my flight I would meditate to discover my goals and decide on where I wanted to go with my life.

But before such serious considerations, I had 9 more hours in the airport before boarding my flight back to California by way of Hong Kong. Suvarnabhumi airport is a huge and ultra-modern airport, typical of the wealthier Asian countries showing off their rising economies and prominence in the world. Its wild architecture and endless corridors are perfect for eating, sleeping, relaxing, and of course, duty free shopping. And with 9 hours to kill, I figured I had to kill at least a few hours in the literally countless shops. Plus, I had stuck to my budget all vacation long and I owed it to myself to take advantage of some cheap Southeast Asian knock off merchandise.

I walked past numerous upscale jewelry and liquor stores which you usually find while duty free shopping before I wandered upon a clothing store. And yet none of the cute skirts and tops fit my American body. This was not an uncommon experience around here, and it wasn’t the first time I had it while shopping in Asia. I guess all the Asian women were so petite that American sizes were unnecessary. This is not saying I was fat, by any means, no! In fact, I was in great shape, and the months of travelling even helped me drop the last five pounds to reach my goal. I wasn’t a fitness model; I was just much too tall and slightly busty to fit into the typical Thai 5′1″ and A-cup dress.

Having no luck in the next store either, I tried another corridor. Somehow in the maze of Suvarnabhumi Airport, I found a much quieter concourse. Along one side of the dim hallway were shops and along the other, one of those uber-rich flight clubs only for some European country’s trans-oceanic jet setters. I walked past the shops seeing mostly the typical liquor, jewelry, and clothes, before I came upon the last shop in the terminal.

What stood before me intrigued me. The store was called “Best DESIRES” (in typical Southeast Asian Eng-r-ish) and was a sex shop. Now, mind you, I had been in sex shops before in the United States, but only to buy vibrators. Yet I didn’t think of myself as a prude, I was just inexperienced in Lingerie and looking sultry. I would like to think that I could easily dress up for my next boyfriend in our bedroom, and why not get something cheap while I was still here in Thailand? I looked at the window displays of camisoles, lace, bustiers, and awkward man-thongs. I decided to give it a try.

When I walked through into the store, it was much larger than I had expected, and the Thai lady at the desk greeted me a smiley “HELLO!” I quickly acknowledged her and began browsing the aisles. I truly didn’t know where to begin. There were other travelers scattered throughout the store (most of which were wearing suits and elaborate dresses, most likely from the flight club across the way) and dotted the floor while staring at the many displays. I quickly realized that the store was separated into different sections. All I wanted was some lacy red underwear and push-up bra. This section, however, was far in a back corner in a darker aisle. So I meandered over there, passing the bondage, then leather, and then latex and PVC sections. I found myself walking faster so as not to be misinterpreted as somebody interested in that sort of thing.

When I got back there I found a far greater variety than I believed even existed in the red lacy lingerie market. I quickly got to work comparing the options, which was sure to take me a long time before making any sort of purchasing decision. After what was maybe five or ten minutes, I noticed that most of the other patrons in the store were making their way to the back of the store near me and then going through a dark door that had a neon “Secrets” sign above it. I figured this was a dirtier and more fetish based section of the store, so I had no interest in entering. Then out of nowhere the Thai lady from the front tapped my shoulder and startled me.

“You enter erotic show!?” she either commanded or asked in a way that only a non-English speaker can. Now, I had been offered to watch the infamous “Ping Pong” shows and other sex trade acts while walking the streets of Bangkok. Here in Thailand, prostitutes and stripping was not only major business, but a part of the Bangkok culture. The shows they put on in Thailand were infamous and involved performances that would land you in jail in most other parts of the world. Many disgusting foreign men travel here just for that exact reason. Besides not being my cup of tea, I was almost always in a rush before now and so I had never seen one of these performances. But standing here I realized that this was my absolute last chance to observe something so crazy, and I still had over 8 hours to kill in Suvarnabhumi Airport.

“How much time?” I asked while pointing at my watch as though it mattered and my flight would be leaving soon.

“Just few Minutes!” she exclaimed as her eyes lit up with the understanding that I was interested. Before I had the chance to ask “How much?” she was ushering me over to the door with the neon light. She more or less shoved me inside, apparently in too much of a hurry to collect whatever fee this erotic show would cost me.

I found myself in a dimly lit hallway leading to another door, which I entered. This room was too dark to see anything at all. I must have been too late and the other patrons must have been seated somewhere else. Slowly some dark blue floor lights came on. The room appeared to be hexagonal, with mirrors covering every other section of wall. Trust me, the reflection I saw of myself with my white skin and red hair in the blue light could not have seemed more futuristic. And then I noticed what must have been the entertainment.

She stood near the center of the room. Facially, she was a light skinned Asian lady, maybe Chinese, but certainly not Thai. And she was pretty! She had the face of Lucy Liu, the American Actress, but besides her face and hair, the similarities started to end. She was covered in a black latex catsuit that fit her like it had been tailored multiple times to be tighter and tighter. Her toned arms and shoulders strained in the latex confinement, and her bust! She must have had multiple boob jobs, because skinny Asian ladies simply do not have racks of that size! These too seemed like they could bust out of the catsuit if the material were not so strong, and her erect nipples pressed out prominently. My eyes traced down to her sexy narrow waist and slight abs shown in the super tight latex. Her hips, ass and thighs strained against their material revealing a well worked out body. Attached to one hip was a black riding crop, and a coiled black leather whip on the other. Finally, she stood much taller than her height on 6″ platform high heeled latex lace up boots. Other than her head, she was encased entirely in latex. It gave the visual effect of a fetish bombshell. And she stood right in front of me. She was a living and breathing dominatrix, as far as I knew the definition.

The dominatrix stomped over to me, clearly upset, and yelled something in what appeared to be German: “kaehiuahgejawekjn!” I didn’t understand the language. She shouted it again and grabbed her riding crop in one hand.

“I’m not in the show” I said startled. She repeated once more in an even harsher tone, and approached me closer. In a panic, I retreated to the door I entered, only to find in completely locked shut.

When I turned around to face the dominatrix again, her angry face distracted me from her powerful hands, which without hesitation grabbed my tank top and ripped it down the front, revealing my bra and midriff. I was scared now, but I certainly didn’t care about the cheap clothes which I had travelled in for months now. I just didn’t want to become part of the show. I was here to watch!

While I hesitated, the dominatrix pulled her riding crop into the air preparing to whip me. I finally got the message she wanted me to strip. I obliged, wanting to avoid a nasty whipping. Plus, I figured, somebody else would join the show, it couldn’t possibly be just one person performing, and maybe the other co-stars would know some English and I could plead with them.

She kept her arm raised and ready until I was stark naked in the blue light. Scared and trembling, I watched as she coolly sauntered to one of the mirrors, showing off her incredible back side. She opened the mirror to reveal a closet behind, and then she grabbed a pile of latex material. I stayed put as she re-approached me and dropped the pile at my toes.

“ahkein ehb aksenbruit inst!” Another undecipherable command.

“What?” I nervously asked. She raised her crop, but this time without hesitation, she struck my left breast on the nipple, giving an amazing sting, and I dropped to my knees. She more calmly repeated herself. Not knowing what else she could possibly want of me, I reached my hands into the pile. They were cloths. She wanted me to dress in them. And it seemed I had no choice or else suffer that damn crop again. I guess I got myself into this mess.

I stood up with the items on the top of the pile. Standing there naked and holding what was some sort of long sleeved but undersized shirt and two latex leggings, I began to dress, hoping I wasn’t mistaken as the co-star of the show. The latex leggings were mid-thigh-highs, and slid on with surprising ease. I had to admit, my legs in these looked only slightly worse that the dominatrix’s fine legs. Again avoiding being accosted by the woman, I opened the tight latex long sleeved shirt and put it on over my head. My arms pulled through to the end as my legs had, with the ends of the sleeves reaching my wrists. They too made my arms and shoulders look much sexier, like they had morphed into stronger and more toned forms.

ACK! To my surprise the shirt only went down to above where my ribs ended! Even worse, there was a large panel in the middle missing, leaving an oval hole reveal the entirety of my breasts! I would never wear this!

At this moment a different mirror opened up like a door and a man dressed as an airplane captain walked through and then looked over at us. I yelled at him for help, figuring he must be between flights. He just stood and stared, ignoring me, before looking at his watch as though he had a flight that was going to take off. I tried to run to him, but I found my legs immobilized.

“Enstagick!” the sexy dominatrix chirped. She pointed at the rest of the pile.

No way was I going to dress in this shit with this man watching! I had had enough! But my body betrayed me. I had no control over my legs and arms, and my body simply kneeled down like a docile pet. I began to weep, not understanding what was happening as my arms picked up another item. My body stood up again against my will, and held up what appeared to be a latex thong. It had what must have been an access slit right where a vagina would go. Just above that was a small nob, and dangling through that nob was a typical ring piercing. It had the undeniable look of a pierced clitoris.

And against my will, my body slid it on, fitting snugly on my hips. Then things got strange. All of the latex I had already adorned began to tingle, and the latex stopped feeling sticky or like I slid around in it. It was as though my skin was bonding to it, and it got even tighter, like the dominatrix’s catsuit. It got especially tingly around my crotch. I felt the edges of the access slit bond to my labia, leaving a perfect door to my inner self. My clit tingled especially hard and even hurt a little. It was like my clit was becoming the little clit on the thong, and of course, it must have been pierced with that dangling ring. I even felt the latex move up into my asshole, leaving a mostly latex arse, save for the region so far inside of me that nothing had ever been up that deep.

And then I felt the strangest feeling in my hip bones. It was like the joint detached, and sure enough, my hips widened and my ass cheeks grew as I watched in one of the mirrors. Once completed, I suddenly looked a bit pear shaped. I also saw that my legs had gotten more toned, and my shoulders pulled back, pushing my chest out on display. The latex was not only in control of my body, but it was altering it!

And the dominatrix never quit. I continued to get dressed in the latex fetish attire while she made commands and watched along with the plane captain. Next was the ballet boots with unbearably tall heals. My body put them on and laced them tight, and they seemed to have bonded to the leggings. I must have been 6″ taller now. Then a naval ring piercing, which my body poked into itself. Once it was settled in place, I watched in the mirror as my abdominals toned way up, even revealing the beginnings of a six pack. I looked thin. I looked hot! Though I didn’t want to admit it in my ongoing nightmare. With how low the latex thong rode my hips and their new width, my toned midsection, and the latex shirt ending so high, I had to admit I now had a midriff to die for.

Next I picked up two latex circles that also had nubs and rings dangling from those nubs. Although I didn’t know what to do with these, my body did, and pressed them against my exposed nipples. They bonded quickly, and I could feel something like licking and very arousing on the inside. As they bonded to me, my nipple became erect and pressed out into the nubs, as well as acquiring the duet of ring piercings. It looked unbelievably erotic and shameful at the same time in the mirror. But I didn’t have much time to consider these pasties, because as I did, I watched in horror while my breasts swelled in front of my eyes. And kept on swelling. And kept swelling. When they finally finished growing, I was carrying what must have been at least DDD stripper tits. They defied gravity, but were somehow still jiggly. Apparently the pasties transformed them into what looked like a plastic surgeon’s lifetime masterpiece. And with them, I looked even sexier, as well as somehow more proportionate. Of course specific body parts of mine on their own weren’t proportionate anymore (like my ass, waist, and breasts). But now the package picture that I had become didn’t look so bottom heavy. I looked like a wet dream… One wearing all latex.

Next up were a set of cuffs and gloves. I put the gloves on with ease before the thick cuffs snapped into place around my wrists. The cuffs each had a pair of D-rings. With these on, my arms were entirely black latex.

The item my body grabbed next was utterly terrifying. It was a latex mask or hood or something. It would cover my entire head down to a tight neck. It had holes only for eyes, nostrils (which donned a final ring piercing through the septum), and a large hole for the mouth. “At least I won’t suffocate” I consoled myself. But the oddest thing was a single centered braid of hair hanging from the back of the scalp. It was raven black and it was so long it would reach down to the small of my back. Without hesitation, my arms opened the tight neck and forced the hood into place. I felt the bonding take effect with my skin and could somehow feel my natural hair dissolving away permanently and the roots of the braid taking place into my scalp. I felt the septum piercing join my nose. And the latex went right up to my lips, where it stopped. When I looked in the mirror, my lips had swelled and turned a darker pink. They were luscious, to say the least.

One last item remained. “Put on the collar” I heard the dominatrix say calmly this time. I guess the hood made me understand whatever language it was. And it didn’t take another command for my body to snap the collar on much like the cuffs. A D-ring dangled from the front proclaiming that I was owned. A wave of euphoria washed over me. My transformation was complete. I didn’t have to worry about my life anymore… I felt submissive. I wanted this? I still wasn’t convinced, but the effect the collar had on me was strong. I yearned for something, and I soon got it.

“Follow me”

“Yes, master,” came from my swollen lips. It felt amazing to take a command.

The captain had already retreated from the mirror door he entered, and I followed my dominatrix master through that same door into a typical airplane jet way, just like you normally board a plane through. I took the time to admire the shapely ass of my master in front of me, and I walked as sultry as I could while following her. When we entered the plane, what must have been the size of a 747, I was put into a closet and the door closed. I waited patiently.

The plane took off and eventually leveled out, I could feel it. My master opened my door and was holding a chain that had two chain endings with carabiners.

“Stand up.” I obeyed. She then attached the chain leash to my two nipples and walked away. When they first tugged on my enormous breasts, I felt a wave of ecstasy. It was like somebody was performing rough oral sex on my clit, except I felt this in each nipple. Nevertheless, like a good slave, I followed.

My master led me to a small well lit wooden stage platform in the main hull of the aircraft. I looked out and saw the patrons from the sex shop earlier, all in first class quality accommodations. I was embarrassed to be so naked and erotically presented in front of them. I was also incredibly aroused. My master undid the chain leash, told me to stay, and walked off the side of the stage.

From near the back of the plane, I could just make out two figures walking toward me in the dark. They were men, and they were mostly naked. As they got closer, I could see them much better and could tell they were quite ripped. They also wore cuffs like mine, collars, as well as leg cuffs and apparently cock rings. And the attire must have had an effect on them too. Did I mention how hot they were? Or their constantly erect and slightly large cocks? Were they too under control?

The two men got on stage with me and my heart beat faster. I was ashamed of myself, mixed with aroused, pleased, and confused.

“Men, please yourself and the slave” commanded my master. Then the real show was on.

The men were not hesitant to give me commands and I obeyed those too. It felt so good to obey… The first was to bend over, which I did while still standing on my ballet heels. I felt my ass flesh giggle and squish as two strong hands grabbed my waist and pulled. I quickly felt his cock enter me as though we were both pre-lubricated, and I let out a moan of joy. He almost instantly built up a rhythm, all the while the passengers watched me get fucked and my breasts sway. There were even a few claps. The other stud approached me and without saying a word pressed his member into my mouth. I now understood why my lips were made bigger. Instinctively I sucked down the whole of his cock, spit roasted in front of a crowd as though it were not my first time. I came a few times in this position; it was so hot.

“More Exotic!” chirped my dominatrix master. Soon the two cocks were out of me and one stud was holding me up while fucking my pussy with my legs straddled around him. I bounced on his member with my nipple rings sliding and pressing against his muscular chest. I came another two times (apparently my stamina and libido were changed as well) when the other stud approached from behind and slid his cock right up my ass! Now, I was an anal virgin, but starting off with double penetration was not how I expected to lose my virginity for that orifice! Needless to say, we bounced there a few more minutes with countless orgasms. I couldn’t help but start to like this. Sure, it wasn’t what I had wanted or intended when I left Bangkok, but I was feeling so sexy! And the constant orgasms were starting to make any existence enjoyable.

“New Position!”

I was set down on my knees and told to suck on one of the studs. While I did this, I was giving the other a hand job. I peered over at the passengers, and they were eating it up. Many of the men and women were clapping and cheering; some were even standing and held their wallets in their hands.

While I was distracted I felt the man I was sucking on cum. First I felt his hot cream fill my mouth, but as his member spasmed between my lips, I too felt an orgasm! I swallowed as though his cum would support my life. The other stud that I had been giving a hand job then jabbed his cock into my mouth and came. And the exact same thing happened! If I could cum from giving pleasure… Why not always give pleasure? It was as though I could feel their cocks for my own while they came into me.

After I had swallowed all of their delicious seed, the men left the stage. “Dance!” the dominatrix commanded, and I put on a show I didn’t even know I could. The passengers loved me, and I was starting to love this too.

“Remember, she’s duty-free!” my dominatrix master advertised.

That’s when I was leashed again and the bidding began. Male and female passengers increasingly raised their hands and shouted out vast quantities of money. They were bidding on me? I guess they were bidding on what I had become. Who I was before simply did not matter. I was amazed to find I was worth millions of euros. My master directed the auction before a couple not far from the back won for a price of 5 million euros. I was shocked.

“They are your new masters. Go to them” my former master instructed. Putting on the best show I could while just walking, I strolled to my masters seats past the other passengers. My body knew how to strut teasingly as I approached them down the airplane aisle.

“Your name is Iris. Please my wife” My wonderful master commanded. His wife was wearing a black cocktail dress and she must have been in her mid-30s. I knelt down to her seat in the plane and reached up into her dress. Then I pulled her panties down her legs and pushed my head into her dress. I quickly located her clit with my tongue and went to work. I must say, I was far more successful with her than that one time that I had experimented with a girl in college. She quickly began moaning and chanting softly “Oh Iris, oh Iris, oh… oh…” before her face flushed red and she came in the presence of the rest of the passengers. With her orgasm, I had one, and I was falling in love with my new life.

“See honey, she’ll be great once we land in Zurich. I told you she would be worth the money. Iris, pleasure me now.”

I crawled over to master’s seat and unzipped his pants. His gorgeous cock sprang to life. I wrapped my lips around its head and I went to town as though pleasing his member was masturbation for me. Actually, I knew it was. I knew I would experience his orgasm too, and I couldn’t get enough. At some point he grabbed the rings on my nipples and pulled. I came. Apparently my nipples were now tit clits. He directed my moaning body so that my mammaries engulfed his member, and I gave him a tit job right in front of a growing crowd of curious passengers.

“I’ll win the bidding on my next trip to Thailand!”

“I need to get myself one!”

“My other one at home needs a partner!”

“I wonder how they make these slaves.”

“It’s like she was born to do this!”

“Do you mind if I try her when you’re done?”

“Can the rest of us get a turn with her?”

“Iris,” my master fit in between gasping near orgasmic breaths “I want you to be blond and tan.”

“They’re customizable? You’ve got to be kidding!”

I didn’t have to wonder what happened while I finished rubbing master’s cock between my breasts. At this point, I assumed he must have control over my appearance because he had no problem controlling the rest of me. My skin tone darkened and my braid turned to a platinum blond. This is apparently what pushed him over the edge, and he jizzed onto my upper chest with everybody watching. I moaned out my own intense orgasm. I never wanted this to stop. I loved being a slave. I wanted to make others/myself cum. I wanted to arouse them. I wanted this. This was the life, this was my future. I had set out to find my goals and where I was going with my life. Now I had found them. I was going to Zurich to be the best sex slave the world had ever seen.