The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Mask becomes You

Part 9

I sit on top of the professor’s desk admiring Julia’s enthusiasm as she knees before his chair, face buried in his lap.

“So help me plan this. Help me expand.” I say to the professor as I apply some of Julia’s black nail varnish onto my toenails. It’s the expensive stuff too. I tell myself to later find out what else she has back in her dorm.

“Certainly, my Goddess.” The professor replies between quiet moans of arousal. “Well the first slaves to recruit should be your philosophy class.” He suggests.

“Yeah I thought of that. Who next?”

“My wife.”

“Your wife?”

“Yes. It won’t take her long to notice changes in my behaviour, and though I will do my best to hide it, my devotion to you will become increasing obvious with time. It would therefore be prudent to have her serving you alongside me, so I am not distracted trying to live two lives.”

“Ok, fine, your wife, no problem.” I yawn. “What else?”

“Jennifer, as soon as she returns from her family crisis. I was hoping you would get her today, as you really can’t control myself and the philosophy class without the TA noticing.”

“Ok, as soon as she gets back, sure.” I say.

We talk about other faculty members I should target next. Steven’s particularly thinks I should enslave the authority figures in the university that might be the first to be told about strange behaviours occurring on campus as a result of my activities. Honestly, I struggle to think people will notice anything strange happening… If they see me in the mask, then they’re already mine, right?

It all becomes much more dull than I would have thought, so I find myself glazing over for most of it. I instead watch Julia, eagerly taking the professor’s wonderful cock into her mouth. Sure, she’s my slave to use any way I want, but I decided it would be more fun to sublet her to Stevens. Be careful to avoid witnesses, he tells me, adding I don’t know fully the powers and most importantly the limitations of the mask. Yada yada. Julia looks so content burying her mouth and heart into making him rock hard. I need a bit of time to cool down before any more sex, I’m sure in an hour or so I’ll be fine, but right now watching her lick, suck, work her tongue around like that, it’s plenty to keep my arousal purring at a warm, fuzzy level. Where there any other masks in storage? Stevens drones. Oh, looks like he’s cum, and Julia is guzzling it down, catching every drop, the greedy minx… I never tasted Steven’s cum when I fucked him yesterday, and I find myself wanting to now…

Wait, did I just miss something important?

“What was that last part?” I ask a rather satisfied looking Stevens, breaking myself out of my stupor.

“Did you find any other masks in storage, Goddess?” Stevens askes through a contented sigh. He drags Julia roughly off of him by her hair and throws her to the side where she mewls up at him. “Rest by my feet, pet.” He commands her in a stern tone he wouldn’t dare use with me. Julia curls up blissfully around his ankles, clinging onto one of them and nibbling his toes gently.

“Shit.” I say suddenly. “I didn’t. I didn’t check. I just grabbed this and left.” I motion to the mask sitting innocently on the desk beside me. I’ve been finding it harder and harder to take the mask off after enslaving someone. It feels like some kind of imaginary glue is keeping it attached firmly over my face, or that my hands become rebellious when I try to pry the mask off with them. After I had removed the mask with some difficulty upon completing Julia’s enslavement, I found it equally hard to let go of it. I had tried to place it back in my backpack, but I simply couldn’t, and instead found it much nicer to have it on the desk where I could see it. And perhaps where it could see me…

“Do you think there might be—“ Steven’s starts to say, but I’m already off his desk, putting all my clothes back in order, and getting ready to leave.

“You have some of the class over there now clearing up the space?” I ask in a panic.

“Yes, they will have been there for about an hour now, Goddess.” Stevens says with worry. “Shall I?”

“No.” I cut him off, “I’ll go. I need to enslave them all anyway, hopefully before they find anything like this!” I say, grabbing the mask and gripping it tightly in my hand.

“You have my number, tell me when it’s best to come enslave your wife.”

“Certainly, Goddess.” He replies dutifully, adding “Be careful.”

“Thanks, prof.” I smirk, as I hurry out the door.

I notice that I’m still clutching the mask in my hand as I start to walk down the corridor leading away from Professor Steven’s office. I need to hide it for now, to put it in my backpack until I reach the place I found it.

But do I though? Why not carry the mask in my hand as I trek across campus?

I do know why though. I remember Stacy’s look of possessed fixation when she saw the mask in my hands when I went to her dorm. I hadn’t consciously decided to take the mask out then either. It had chosen to make me, and now it was trying to choose so again.

“No!” I hiss urgently at the mask, stopping to open my bag up. I go to put it safely inside, but my hand wavers and stalls on the precipice. The mask stares up at me with its empty eye holes, but it feels like I’m being glared at.

“I can’t just walk around with you in plain sight!” I bargain pleadingly as the mask keeps my hand immobile. “People will see you and want you! Like Stacy did!”

But that’s what the mask wants, isn’t it? To be seen, to be wanted. Obviously it wants to be exposed to as much of the world that it can be, all the sooner it can dominate everyone it encounters.

“But Stacy almost killed me! She almost strangled me to death because she wanted you!” I argue to the mask, feeling my cheeks flush with anger. “I know you don’t care about my life but I do!”

I glance skittishly up and down the corridor, making sure no one is there to witness what to any outsider would look like the ravings of a mad person.

Of course, were I to just wear the mask instead of carry it, then everyone I encountered would be entranced by the mask, instead of determined to take it from me.

There. That wasn’t my thought. I shudder as I realise that the mask has become so good at planting thoughts in my mind that I can barely recognise the difference anymore. It’s only the context that gives the mask away. Of course it wants me to wear it across campus! It wants to be worn permanently. It wants me to never take it off so that the mask may as well be my permanent face. But I know I don’t want that!

It feels like my mind is at war with itself whenever I wear or even just hold the mask. It’s exhausting.

“Look!” I snap at the mask again, exhaling an exasperated breath. “Unless you know for certain that there’s no other masks over there that could possible interfere with your power, we’re wasting valuable time arguing here! Now let me put you away at least until we get to that room in the academy building, and we can do this again there!”

At once my hand holding the mask plunges into the bag, and for a moment I’m terrified that I’ve damaged the slender frame of the mask, before I realise that such a thing might not even be possible.

“Alright then.” I murmur, slinging the bag back over my back and exiting into the bright sunlight outside.

I don’t run across campus this time. I decide that it’d be a sweaty and embarrassing habit to develop, especially if I’m supposed to be a Goddess. I should have, like, slaves to run for me. Or maybe run carrying me, on one of those seats that are held up by the poles? Actually, that sounds precarious, maybe I’ll just enslave someone who drives. Problem solved. Unless, I think I should really be driven around in style. Professor Stevens cycles. Environmentalist, pah! It was something I admired until right this moment. Goddess wants a chariot, dammit, and it better be built like a tank or have more horsepower than all the horses in Canada.

So no, I don’t run. I briskly power walk, sure. I get into the old academy building and immediately put on the mask. As I do I feel the familiar rush of power, the sensation that everything about me has changed. I’m flawless, I’m irresistible… I’m a Goddess. Smiling to myself, I wander through the mostly abandoned building, as it’s just a whole bunch of empty rooms at this point. I’m only expecting to find people in the room where the mask was found.

As I near the door to the one time drama club, I hear a few bored voices on the other side of the door. I stop and take a deep breath. Part of me isn’t nervous; this mask is too unique, too incredible for a whole bunch of them to be lying around. Another part of me is terrified, because how is there any way for me to actually know that?

I can’t make out what the voices are saying through the closed door, so I double check that the mask is firmly on my face before walking into the room.

“Tara, hey!” greets Sandra, as she’s closest to the door. I take one glance at the room. Derek is also here (Oh my god I’m going to enjoy him so much…), as is Bruce, Felicity, and Paul. None of them are holding strange looking masks, or commanding each other around. They’re all just shuffling boxes to the side of the room and laying out chairs.

It’s over in moments. Sandra is a tall thin freckly redhead, fairly friendly, we’ve done a couple of group assignments together. I saunter up to her, her face becoming memorised as I get closer.

“You’re a mindless statue, sweetie.” I say softly, before instantly turning to Paul, who is the next nearest.

Paul is large, stocky, a ruby player build, with an auburn buzz cut, a chisel jaw, yet kind green eyes. Those eyes go foggy as I walk up to him and utter “Don’t move or think.”

Bruce is next to Paul, they were clearly moving the heavier stuff together. He’s short and a bit tubby, but with strong arms none the less. His shoulder length blonde hair and scraggly beard is not the most attractive thing to me, but I don’t care.

“Lie down and take a nap until I tell you to wake, lovely.” I coo, and he’s sinking to the floor before I even turn away.

I’m across the room and next to Derek and Felicity in moments. They’re both staring at me with looks of utter bewilderment, but glancing into my eyes through the mask is completely dissolving their will.

“Tara…” Derek slurs, and I put my finger to his lips. He has spiky black hair, Harry Potter glasses, and is wearing a tartan cardigan made for two generations ago. A ridiculously large pair of headphones is slung around his neck, via which I can hear some kind of 90s pop music playing.

“Shhh… get on your knees now and wait silently for me.” I say sweetly.

I then turn to Felicity as Derek slumps, his face a kind of entranced stupor. I can see panic in her eyes as the rest of her is slowly being swallowed up by an overwhelming stillness and calm. She’s short, petite, with shoulder length blonde hair and the face of an angel. Her bright and friendly expression is absent from her face though, replaced with a fearful struggle to stay focused and alert.

“Stay perfectly still, and perfectly quiet.” I say softly to her, and then, happy that I’ve immobilised everybody in the room, I spin around and burst out laughing.

“That was so much fun!” I declare happily, to no one in particular. “Makes me almost want to do it again!” I slowly step through the dusty silent room, visiting each one of my frozen or sleeping prey. I fix a loose strand of ginger hair on Sandra’s head, dust Paul’s shoulder, and then bend down to plant a kiss lightly on Derek’s cheek.

“I’ve been really crushing on you, you know…” I say idly to Derek, run my hand through his hair, leaving it with a faint scent of mint. “Before I became a Goddess, I wanted you to take me out, go see a movie or something. Stay up late playing video games, watching movies, having sex… I always wanted you to ask me, but I never had the guts to ask you.”

His eyes stare achingly into mine, his face slack and his shoulders slumped. He looks so helpless, so submissive… What did I ever see in this weak willed slave, anyway? He deserves to be enslaved, just like the rest of them.

“But now I’m a Goddess, Derek.” I smirk, running my fingers down his face to his lips. “Goddesses don’t date; they receive worship. You’re going to worship me, for the rest of your life, aren’t you, slave?”

“Yes, Goddess!” Derek replies eagerly, clearly overjoyed that he’s allowed to express his devotion.

“How about you, Felicity? Ready to worship me and do my every bidding?” I ask the petite blond, turning to fix my gaze into her fervent stare.

“Anything for you, Goddess.” She whispers, transfixed.

“Good girl.” I nod approvingly at her. “Then let’s begin.”

I go to each of my soon to be slaves and release them from their frozen or sleepy state, before commanding them each in turn: “You will obey me in all things, without question or hesitation, and only speak when spoken to.”

Each one acknowledges in their own obedient voice, and I have them all line up in a row facing me. I can’t help but find the nuances worn on each face intriguing. Even under the same instructions, they each stand obediently in their own way. Paul looks blank and mesmerised, his strong build slouched, all that muscle and power rendered limp by my allure. Sandra looks dreamy, perhaps even drunk, a silly faint smile plastered across her lips. Her eyes switch from meeting mine and drifting a thousand miles away. Derek looks intensely at me, never breaking his gaze, though trying to win a staring contest. Bruce looks pleading, desperate even, like a puppy needing approval. I can tell he already wants to lick my divine cunt more than anything. Felicity’s eyes are full of fear. Her face is pale, like she knows intimately exactly what mental bondage awaits her. The room is still a mess around us, boxes littering the floor and dust covering everything. I must get my slaves to tidy this, I think. But I must properly make them slaves first, obviously.

“You worship me as your Goddess.” I say, to each in turn. Felicity’s eyes dilate as I say this to her, the panic replaced with intense zeal. Sandra exhales a happy sigh, and Paul relaxes even further, which I didn’t think possible until I saw it.

“But when not serving me, you act and go about your business, your studies, and your extra-circulars as you used to. For now you are a secret slave, and you will only call me Goddess when we are either alone or with other slaves.”

I tell them each certain conditions and requirements in being my slave, such as not to carry out my orders completely mindlessly, for example where it would endanger themselves or others, or risk their slavery being discovered. As much as I want to turn each slave of mine into an insatiably horny sex slave, I know that it will cause more problems with time. For once the mask seems to agree, though the fact that I think I can get away with one or two endlessly horny sex slaves makes me think it’s implanting thoughts seamlessly again. Shit.

But, to be fair, Katie is in a perfect position to be on call to service my needs anytime when she’s not in class, and I could have a rotation of on call slaves who could be ready in empty periods to be there to scratch any itch I might have at any one time. And once I enslave all of my lecturers for the year, class for me will become an opportunity for recruitment and nothing else. I could leave school with any grades or degree I wanted. I could walk into any job and sit down in my bosses chair, enslave him or her and own the company by the next day.

As I impart my instructions and commands into each of the five soon to be slaves before me, a rush of power surges through my body and mind. Each word I speak makes me feel unstoppable, charged with power and tantalizing seduction. As I finish my commands to Paul, then Sandra, then Bruce, Felicity, and finally Derek, my arousal grows and grows. I had experienced more orgasms in the last 36 hours than I had done for the last three months. I know I need a break. I also know I don’t have to have every person I enslave sexually pleasure me.

I want them to, though. But I know I don’t need to. More and more I feel that the power of the mask is limited by my weak mortal body. Is there a way around that? Is there a way to imbue the power of the mask into me, so I don’t need to actually wear it?

I should become the mask, I think.

Woah! That was definitely not my original thought! Fuck! A sense of dread floods through me, wiping out the feeling of unlimited power I was feeling moments before. How many thoughts here are mine? How many are the mask’s? Does it even matter? I’m having so much fun enslaving the weak willed, feeling incredible as I do so, that it shouldn’t matter if it’s placing a thought or two in my mind.

And I loved kneeling in front of the mirror, staring at the Goddess that I’ve become. I came for that Goddess and when I look at her I know why everyone finds her completely irresistible.

It’s definitely happening again, right now. Which of these very thoughts are actually coming from me? Not many, it seems? Is this one? Maybe I should take the mask off now, to have a break from the thoughts it’s planting in my head. But when I really think about it, I realise that I don’t want to.

No, I’m pretty sure I do… not want to take off the mask.

Yes, that’s right, keep the mask on. For as long as possible.

No, not as long as possible, just… as much as I feel like. And I feel like keeping it on a lot.

Yeah, there’s no reason for me to take the mask off now. In fact, I’m starting to think I shouldn’t ever take it off…

I suddenly fall to my knees. “Get off!” I scream, clutching the mask with both hands and trying with all my might to tear it off my face. It’s trying to take over and I have to stop it. “Get off get off GET OFF!” I yell, panic mixed with cold fury.

“Goddess? Are you ok? Can we help?” Felicity asks concernedly. Of course, the programming finished, my slaves are now unfrozen, and under compulsion to serve me in the best way they see fit. They all approach me, clearly wanting to help.

“Stay back!” I yell in fright. I can’t get the mask off. I can feel its thoughts overwhelming, maybe even overwriting my own… I need to get it off, and I know that I have the physical ability to do so, but my mind controls my body, and my mind is at war with itself. However, if I tell any of my slaves to take off the mask for me, I don’t know if the mask will compel them to immediately put it on, remove all my programming, and then enslave me.

But really though, at the end of the day, I want to be a slave for the mask, don’t I? I get so hot and bothered each time I enslave someone, because I’m jealous; I want to be in their place. I want to be a slave. I want the mask to enslave me. I should ask Felicity to take the mask from me. She looks like she’s controlled by her fears, so the mask will overwhelm her in minutes, and my Goddess will be in complete control of her host.

“Felicity…” I say with a slur. “Take the…. Take the mask off- NO! Stay back” I blurt out, like I manage to pull off a gag for a moment.

“Stop it! Stop it! I control you, not the other way around!” I plead. “Please… Please stop it.”

I can’t fight the mask. It’s too powerful. I can’t even take it off my face. Why should I even try to fight? Why shouldn’t I just surrender to it? Become the mask. Become the mask.

“Stop… Putting… Thoughts… In… My… Head…” I grimace through clenched teeth. “It’s my mind, and if you want me to do any more enslaving for you, you’ll treat it with respect or I’ll fucking destroy you.”

Why would I want to destroy the mask? The mask was everything to me? With it, I was a Goddess. Without it, I was a pathetic loser with only one real friend, and Stacy hated me now. If I destroyed the mask I’d be less than nothing, I’d be worse than worthless.

“But you’d still be destroyed…” I whine weakly, tears dripping down my face now. It’s winning, it’s overwhelming me. Such a huge part of me wants to give in; it feels like I’m trying to hold a door closed against a monster much stronger and wilful than me. If it gets in my head, I really will be nothing; I know it’ll make sure of that.

I am weak, and the mask is strong.

“I… am weak. The mask is strong.” I choke through the words, bent over on the ground now, sobbing as I still clutch at the mask in my futile attempt to free myself. My slaves stand impotently around me, watching in horror and confusion as their Goddess weeps.

I will surrender to my Goddess.

“I will… I will… su- su- surrender to my Goddess.” I whisper hoarsely.

A wave of calm acceptance washes through me. This was, of course, inevitable. The mask is a vessel containing power beyond my pathetic mortal understanding. My life has been pointless up until this moment, but now it will have such a purpose. I will be my Goddess’ vessel now, once I surrender myself entirely to her. I will find a mirror so I can gaze upon my Goddess and so that she can command me, control me, and transfer herself into me.

“Slaves.” I say in complete calm while moving into to a submissive kneeling position. “Find a mirror for your Goddess and bring it here.” They all instantly disperse and start searching the room. I have minutes, maybe less, before they’ll find something amongst all the drama club stuff.

I am weak compared to my Goddess, and I was foolish to think I could wield such power without it claiming me. My Goddess will absorb my very being until there is nothing left of me in my body, and I want to offer myself to her. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.

“I am weak…” I murmur, another tear running down my cheek as I wait for my fate.

“Found one, Goddess!” Bruce exclaimed, pouring out a box of random props and pulling a dinner plat sized mirror on a handle and quickly coming over to me.

Excellent, I think. I’ll be enslaved in moments and then I’ll go and enslave Stacy, as punishment for daring to resist my Goddess.

Just as Bruce holds the mirror out towards me, images of Stacy pop into my mind like a torrent. I see us meeting on the first day of high school, each as terrified as the other and instantly banding together in nervous solidarity. I see us hanging out at her house, experimenting with makeup and chatting incessantly about boys. I see us jumping gleefully in each other’s arms as we both hold our acceptance letter to this college. I see us chilling around campus, watching out for each other at Freshman parties, walking through the quad and laughing in the sun.

I then see the pain in her eyes that was there this morning as she left her dorm. I see the heartless emptiness in her stare as she tried to wrest the mask from me last night. I then see her kneeling, slack jawed and gazing mindlessly as the mask strips away her will, her freedom, her mind…

And there’s nothing I can do to st-

“NO!” I scream with a fury I didn’t know I had. With one hand I knock the mirror from Bruce’s hand, and with the other, I rip the mask off my face and hurl it across the room.

I gasp a huge lungful of air into my body, collapsing to the ground. It instantly feel like a smothering fog is dispersing from my mind. Panting, and dripping with sweat, I notice that the slaves are eyeing where the mask landed.

“Don’t go near it!” I splutter through my choked breathing. “Just wait!”

Holy hell. I could barely process what had just happened. It had felt like I had been drugged, that my mind had been tied up and another voice had taken control. Feeling incredibly dizzy, and more than a little nauseous, I crawl awkwardly across the dusty floor to where the mask had landed. It’s face down on a pile of faded costumes. I throw my open bag over the top of it, scooping it up inside.

Nervously, I peer inside the bag to see the mask glaring back up at me. The compulsion to pick it up and wear it is disorientating; I have to concentrate on my hands to stop them wandering as if possessed.

“That’s it, bitch!” I snarl at the mask. “We’re done!”

As the empty eye sockets of the mask stare back at me and penetrate into my very soul, I feel a powerful thought vibrate through my skull.

No. We’re not done.