The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive


By Nymph

The Audi darted through traffic with a practiced hand. To the cars passing by it looked as if the woman inside were talking to herself, but then in the world of hands-free cell phones that wasn’t really unusual.

“Listen to me, we need to get a monitor out to Dr. Kleinmann’s site next week, or we won’t have his data in time for the interim analysis. Is that too difficult to understand?”

Christiana disconnected her phone with a huff and wished fervently that she had a handset to slam down. She compensated by tapping the accelerator to make up for lost time. Christiana was a project manager at Genentor Pharmaceuticals and she was very good at what she did. She pushed herself and her team hard for the chance at taking a swing at getting a new treatment for breast cancer into the market.

Unfortunately, being that driven left very little time for much of a social life. Six months ago, she would have happily been staying in the office until 9pm or later to catch the morning (Kyoto-time) teleconference with the East Asian team. Her boss had rearranged her priorities since that time however, fearing that she would burn out before the last big clinical trial could be completed. So Christiana had slipped back into the dating pool after a long absence, and since it was work-mandated, she swam right for the deep end with gusto. All of her colleagues at the office agreed that the change had sanded down some of her rougher personality traits.

She was running late tonight. Late for her next date. The thirty-three year old pulled her sedan into her flat’s parking garage and slipped out of the vehicle. A chirp from the car’s security system and the soft click-click-click from her heels echoed through concrete chamber. Christiana pulled out her blackberry to check her email as she rode the elevator up to her floor.

She checked her watch as the door to her apartment swung open and realized that she had time for a quick bath to get ready. The soak would probably help her soothe her jangled nerves, she thought. Setting down the armor (cell phone, blackberry, two pagers, and laptop bag) of her corporate shell, she unbuttoned her suit coat and started to slip out of her clothes. Moments later, a white silk blouse joined the jacket on the bed. Soon enough, wisps of steam floated out from underneath the closed bathroom door.

Later, the curly haired brunette sat at her dressing boudoir; nude and pink from the bath. The brownstone from across the street reflected in the mirror in front of Christiana. Her graceful hands were spreading a dollop of sweet-scented apricot lotion over the rounded curve of her tummy.

Christiana smiled as she viewed herself in the mirror. The professional woman had developed a bit of a disdain for convention through the course of her life. Indeed, she could never have risen so quickly at Genentor without coloring outside the lines. A good deal of that trait came from her confident self image. She had the curves and voluptuousness of a woman in a Raphaelite painting, and she knew it. Granted, she did not match the modern stick figure body of a Victoria Secret model, but in some ways she was much rarer than that. Her beauty was smooth and full-bodied like an aged cognac.

A whisper of silk floated through the room as she pulled a black stocking up her leg. She caressed the pink skin which marked the line where the silk road ended above her knee. Quickly, the stocking’s mate adorned the other leg. With another smile, she piled her chestnut ringlets above her head and thought about the coming date with her lover.

Her reverie was broken, as she stared for a moment at the image in the mirror. Its motions were oddly disconnected and out of synch with her own. It was as if someone were on the other side of the glass was pantomiming her movements—always a split second behind. Christiana gasped and jumped back with a start on her bench as her reflective twin gave a big Cheshire cat smile. The woman in the mirror blew Christiana a kiss as it abandoned the pretense of following her lead.

Christiana reached out a trembling hand as she tried to prove that she wasn’t having a breakdown. The brown-haired girl could feel the cold hardness of the glass underneath the pads of her fingertips. Her reflection was giggling sweetly in such a way as to cause her breasts to jiggle softly. The doppelganger seemed to be mocking Christiana with a teasing ‘I-know-something-you-don’t’ type of look.

With a frustrated snarl, Christiana’s deep brown eyes paused, squinted, and challenged the doppelganger. Her twin matched the look; joining Christiana in a joust of wills. The ice queen project manager realized that her twin’s eyes had a hard edge of something sinister about them. She was staring at something dark, and not knowing what it was terrified her.

Christiana blanched.

With a malevolent grin, the mirror image raised a delicate index finger to her full pursed lips. A squeak of surprise was all that slipped out of Christiana as she obeyed instantly. Like a wolf establishing its place in the pack, the reflection had Christiana about the neck with teeth bared. The voluptuous beauty could do nothing but sit meek and submissive in silence.

The generous breasts of her twin swayed heavily as the mirror image leaned forward through the glass. The mirror rippled as a two dimensional reflection gained depth and feeling. Christiana could feel the hot moist breath of her twin on her neck as she sat paralyzed.

“Don’t forget this sweetness, you’ll be needing it tonight...”

Christiana felt a hot rush of moisture flood her loins as her doppelganger’s fingers grazed her skin. Her pussy swelled and opened like a flower as she felt a stiff leather studded collar slip over her neck.

* * *

Chrissie squealed with delight at the collar latched firmly around her neck. “It’s about fucking time that I’m away from that snooty bitch for awhile,” she thought to herself as she slipped a finger over the swollen lips of her slavecunt.

With a dismissive glance at her reflection, Chrissie whispered, “Oh, I’m sorry sweetie-pie. You never remember me do you?” The woman in the glass looked confused and frightened. Christiana’s mouth opened, but no sound could escape her flat two-dimensional image trapped in the boudoir mirror.

Ignoring her twin for the moment, Chrissie looked over at the Stickley clock on the dresser. She knew that Mistress wouldn’t be terribly long, and the slaveslut had much to do before She made her entrance for the evening. Opening up Christiana’s make-up drawer, the girl rummaged around to the back for her special supplies. The lipstick came first, a bright candy apple-red, applied in near whorish amounts. Turquoise eye shadow and bright rouge followed quickly—some for her cheeks and some for her nipples.

Christiana’s eyes were pleading from within the mirror as she stared at her naked body decked out like a prostitute in front of her. Chrissie chortled as she popped in a stick of gum and commenced chewing loudly.

For a moment, she practiced blowing kisses to the girl in the mirror. Batting her eyelashes...cupping and playing with her nipples, Chrissie was a vision of slutty seduction. She hoped that Mistress might consider renting her out for a bit in the evening, as it had been sometime since she got to indulge in her whore personality.

With a baleful gleam in her eye, Chrissie engaged her twin again. “Oh right...I suppose you don’t remember that either...” She caressed the reflection and smiled as Christiana gave a silent gasp as a memory unlocked in her mind. She felt herself, being led on a leash in front of a room full of beautiful silk and leather clad women. Christiana saw money exchanging hands and then felt her leash being given to a tall golden-haired stranger. And finally, she remembered screaming in ecstasy through her silk gag as the woman fucked her with a ribbed glass strap-on.

Chrissie’s eyes opened in synch with Christiana’s as they finished sharing the memory together. With a sultry smile, Chrissie grazed her fingernails over the swollen orbs of her breast. Her reflection panted involuntarily at the sensation. The collared girl palmed her nipples and wiggled her mound against the seat as they grew taut with arousal.

Slipping one hand lower, she teased the russet hair of her mound. Twirling a finger around and around the fuzz of her slavehole gave both of them a shiver. Christiana could feel those hands pulling at her in the mirror. Chrissie spread her full thighs with a languorous grace, pinched the lips of her cunt and tilted her head back in a breathy moan.

“Gawd...don’t you just love this...being a whoreslave for Mistress?”

Christiana struggled in the mirror as she felt graceful fingers teasing her clit and pulling on her left nipple. Chrissie’s full and rounded body was writhing lewdly on the bench of the boudoir now. A finger was poised at the entrance of her pussy. Christiana bit her lip as it slid into her; ready to sob, unable to resist her captor or even give voice to the pleasure forced upon her body.

Gasping now as she stepped up the pace, Chrissie moaned to her silent doppelganger, “Didn’t you just love it the first time that Mistress made you strip for a week?”

Christiana bowed her head and tried to block the image of her prancing up on stage in her finest business suit. Gradually, she stripped down to a lace demi-bra and thong. She could remember the hands of dozens of women gliding over her hips and legs as they stuffed her thong full of bills. Chrissie’s fingers were now slapping at her clit and circling the lips of her labia again and again.

With a wet rush, Christiana realized that she loved dancing that night and giving every penny of her earnings to Her. Chrissie was squealing now—coming closer and closer to her final release. Her twin’s forehead was wrinkled as she fought the feelings of lust inside of her and realizing her shame how much she loved losing herself to Chrissie.

A musky scent of cunt filled the room. Chrissie’s sexlips jutted out like a common whore. She closed her eyes, knuckles turning white as they gripped the mahogany boudoir. Two fingers slid deep into her gash as she howled out her climax.

Christiana wept as she was forced to do the same.

A horn sounded in the early evening, shattering the afterglow between the slave and her reflective twin. Glancing out the elegant window of the flat, Chrissie saw Her limo pull up. She shuddered with a post-orgasmic whimper at the site of the car idling in the long blue shadows of the midsummer twilight.

With a smile and a wink, she leaned in close to the glass of the mirror. As she pulled closer and closer, her reflection matched the movements although it could be easily seen the woman in the mirror was struggling mightily to break away.

Chrissie kissed her twin in the mirror—leaving a perfect scarlet print of her lips on the silvery glass. “You know sweetie, I always wondered why Mistress didn’t just give me your body permanently when she took control of your mind. But I think I understand now, it’s sooo fucking hot to see you try to resist your fate, every night, over and over again. You’re so mindfucked now, you don’t even remember how badly you wanted to submit!”

The slave stepped away from the mirror to throw on a pair of red fuck-me pumps over her stockings and a short coat which would be her only clothing for the evening. She finally felt ready for her ‘date’.

As she headed out the door, Chrissie looked over her shoulder and moaned, “Don’t wait up Christiana....I’ll be out late tonight.” Alone for the first time, Chrissie’s mirror image pounded the glass in soundless desperation.