The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

My mistress has instructed me to write this for her, and so I have. I am not under her control at this moment, but I have endeavored to recall precisely what it feels like, because it amuses her to hear my point of view later. Why do I write this for her if she doesn’t force me to? Because she changed my life that night at the club. Who wouldn’t be obedient for such a mistress?

The phone rings, so I walk over and pick it up. On the other end of the line I hear your voice, speaking to me softly, as I feel myself lose control of my body. You know that I am devoted enough that I would certainly meet you anytime and any place you would care to name, but I know that you have also found it convenient to be able to control me by voice as well as in the usual manner. Therefore, I listen carefully, and having received my instructions, I walk to my closet and open it to find a rather unconventional tuxedo inside. Touching it brings back the day you picked it out for me.

The day started innocently enough, a late Saturday brunch, unusual since we usually meet at night, but certainly not unprecedented. After we had finished eating, you put on your pendant and put me deeply under your control. I was startled, since I was not expecting to be in any situation on a bright Saturday afternoon where you would need such a level of mastery over me. The thought of walking down the street unable to refuse any command of yours made me immediately hard. We stopped in front of a store window filled with leather and chrome. I was used to accompanying you to lingerie stores, so I expected to wait obediently while you tried something on. But as we entered the store, I noticed that there didn’t seem to be any clothes for women on display. Before I knew it, I was seated on a low ottoman, listening to my mistress and a very helpful salesman discuss me like I wasn’t even there, except for when I was instructed to stand up so that he could expertly assess my size. I felt like a mannequin, albeit a very shy one. As he swept off to find things for me to try on, I discovered that this must be a store frequented by gay men—you and I were the only straight couple there, although the clerk certainly didn’t seem to be surprised by someone wanting to clothe and display her pet. I was taken to a dressing room and instructed what to try on with what. At one point, he even told me that I had to take off my boxers and replace them with a thong so the seams wouldn’t show under the amazingly tight pants that you wanted to see me in next. He left me to put the things on myself, although he would inspect my work and straighten the clothing to his liking in a very familiar way before allowing me to leave the dressing area. It was odd to be touched by a man in that way, but my body allowed it even as my mind wanted to rebel.

I left the dressing room to find you seated on a black leather sofa, your brief red dress very vivid against its glove-soft surface. You made me walk back and forth, turning in front of the three way mirror so you could see all views. I felt like everyone in the neighborhood was watching me, but I couldn’t stop my obedience. The constricting clothes were making and keeping me incredibly hard, which was obvious to the most casual observer, and the salesman was far from casual, or at least I assumed so from the way he congratulated you on a certain part of my anatomy. The resulting purchase from that shopping trip was a tuxedo that is not exactly conventional: the shirt is white and silky, masculinely cut but definitely not loose, and the pants are made of a very faintly shimmering material, thin and somewhat satiny to the touch.

I snap back to the present and recall my instructions. Unable to stop myself, I strip my clothes off and begin to dress. I begin with a pair of tight silky briefs, then the white shirt and black pants. As I pull the pants up my leg, I realize I’m becoming very aroused, and the pants really do nothing to hide my erection. If anything, they make it more noticeable. Worried, I put my jacket on, noting that if I’m careful I can cover it up.

In a daze, I get into my car and start driving. I don’t know where I’m going, but my body doesn’t ask me anyway, and I find myself pulling up outside a rather expensive Italian restaurant. I see people in very expensive clothes entering and leaving, and a valet takes my car. I walk inside, where the maitre d’ informs me that I’m expected, and leads me to a two-person table near the middle of the room. Glancing about furtively, I take my jacket off, trying to hide my erection, and wait for what comes next.

I don’t have to wait long. A few minutes later I notice a stir near the door, and several people nearby turn to stare, the men longingly, and the women with a subtle mixture of jealousy and desire. I follow their gaze, and there you are, stunningly gorgeous and incredibly confident. Given what you’re wearing, this is perhaps no surprise. I notice your shoes first: silver high-heeled sandals with thin silver straps laced all the way up to your knee, covering your smooth calves. You have on an interesting collection of jewelry, with a silver bracelet about your left wrist and a silver coil wrapped around your right arm. On your neck you’re wearing your purple pendant on a short, smooth silver chain, as well as a thick silver choker that shimmers as you move.

More eye-catching, however, is your dress: a smooth and shiny silver, it is completely form fitting, it serves to accentuate rather than conceal your incredible curves. It’s asymmetrical at the bottom, one side stretching almost to the floor while the other ends at mid-thigh, ending in tasteful frills around the bottom. It narrows about the waist before expanding to present your captivating cleavage (and at this point, I can tell, I’m not the only one who finds it captivating).

Finally, my eyes, traveling gratefully upwards, take in your face, and my heart begins to beat faster. I notice your lips, an impossibly deep shade of red and as shiny as the rest of your outfit. I find myself wondering what it might be like to kiss those lips, but as you turn towards me, I find my gaze held in your incredible eyes, staring at me knowingly. Suddenly all thoughts flee from me, save only those concerned with pleasing you.

You hand your coat to someone nearby, who takes it reverently, before walking confidently over to the table. Without thinking, I know I’m expected to offer you a seat, and I stand up to get it for you, before realizing that my straining erection must be obvious. Your impossibly red lips curl beautifully into a smile, and you sit distractingly close to me.

As we are under such close scrutiny from the other patrons, the meal starts innocently enough, as we receive our drinks and order dinner. Soon, however, you face towards me and ask me what I think of your pendant. Off balance, I turn to look, and find myself enthralled once again by its power. My peripheral vision presents me with quite a view, as I can see your prominent cleavage (as well as a hint of your nipples) and elegant silver choker just below your full, sensuous lips.

A short time later, you reach into your purse and pull out a small satin bag, which you hand to me, instructing me to go to the restroom and put on the items inside. You’re not particularly subtle about this, and several people sitting around us raise curious eyebrows. Somewhat embarrassed, I decide that I don’t want to look foolish in front of all these people, and I begin to voice objections. Seeing this, however, you raise your beautifully manicured hand to the chain on your neck, drawing my attention to the pendant.

“Yes, that’s it, my pet,” you say. “Just relax, and feel yourself becoming more obedient. It’s so easy to follow my instructions, and so... hard... to resist me. I don’t see how you can stop yourself from obeying. Now be a good pet and do as I’ve asked.” Having said this, you smile slightly and turn back to your food. Evidently no longer in control of myself, I reply “Yes, mistress,” and walk to the restroom. Once there my hands open the satin bag and remove a smooth gold collar and a constricting black vinyl thong. Without hesitating I undress and put on the articles of clothing, feeling the collar snap tightly closed around my neck. Startled, I try to remove it, but every time my hands get close, I instead find them caressing the smooth metal, as a small moan escapes my lips, and my erection grows noticeably harder. Eventually, I give up, put my clothes back on, and hope the shirt will cover the collar.

When I return to the table, you smile at me and say “Very good, my pet. While you were gone, I spoke to the others.” You sweep your hand to indicate everyone in the room. “As I become aroused, they will, too, although they will not know exactly what is causing it. So your only purpose is to arouse and satisfy me. Your obedience is crucial.” You then stare intently at me for several seconds before turning back to your meal. Nonplussed by the lack of explicit instructions, I turn back to my food as well, but I find myself instead running my tongue over my index finger, before letting it slip around my lips and into my mouth. I am acting without really thinking about why, although I know that you find my full lips sexy. It is as if my body is on auto-pilot, fulfilling your instructions without my conscious direction. My other hand, meanwhile, is completing the display, caressing the smooth fabric of my pants, calling your attention to my cock straining against the tight shiny fabric, and without meaning to, I let a small moan escape my lips. The waitress, standing nearby, looks on curiously at this display. Seeing her, I suddenly feel compelled to turn to you and ask “Would you care for any more wine, mistress?”

You seem pleased by my display, as your tongue darts out to wet your shiny red lips and your gleaming red nails caress the curve of your wineglass. You are breathing more rapidly than normal, which fills out your dress nicely. Embarrassed, I turn back to the waitress, only to find that she’s beginning to look very turned on by the exchange. Realizing that something strange is going on, I turn to look at the other diners, and discover that they are all also becoming very aroused. One woman at a nearby table has her head tilted back and her breasts thrust out, her hands roving freely across her body. A man at a table near the wall is leaning in to kiss the bare shoulders of his date. Couples kiss and touch while many others are staring longingly at you.

This brings my gaze back to you, and I see that you, too, have your head tilted back, your magnificent cleavage prominent. Your wet red lips part very slightly and a soft moan escapes them, and I look down in surprise to discover that my near hand has strayed under the table and under the shorter side of your dress. Unable to stop myself, I push aside the satin thong you’re wearing and my fingers penetrate you, slipping carefully but deeply inside. The tablecloth conceals my hand, but it is obvious the effect my actions are having on you. I should stop; this is not appropriate behavior at all, but I can’t fight the desire to please you. As I begin to move my fingers inside you, your hands grip the sides of the chair and your hips rise slightly to meet my hand. Your breath quickens, which has a ripple effect across the room. Couples who were kissing before now have hands inside each others’ clothes. A group of three young women at a nearby table each have a hand between their legs, while their free hands stray to touch each others’ breasts or hair. A waitress is on her knees in front of the maitre d’; what she is doing is hidden by his tall desk, but his arousal is written plainly on his face.

You are so wet and hot around my fingers that I feel that I can’t get any harder, but paradoxically, all of my thoughts are centered on your pleasure. Your moans intensify as I find the rhythm you prefer; all of my embarrassment is momentarily subsumed by the idea that you are near orgasm. I watch your chest rise with your breath, admiring your full breasts and how the sheer dress shows off your nipples. Others are watching you, too. When you do come, it sets off a chain reaction around the room.

Afterwards, I sit up straight in my chair, watching you sip from your wineglass. The activity in the room is at a lull while people catch their breath in watchful silence. You are the first to speak, softly as if to me alone, although we both know that everyone can hear. “That was very good, my pet. You are quite obedient. And if this level of obedience continues, you will be rewarded.” I don’t know why you speak as if I have a choice in the matter; I am under your control as always. On your face is an enigmatic smile that both terrifies and exhilarates me. I know that what you will demand of me is something that I would never consider if I were in control of myself, yet I will surely comply, which terrifies me. But the fact that you are smiling at the mere thought of whatever I will do next gives me a feeling of purpose and power—power to arouse and please my mistress.

“Yes, mistress,” I answer. It is, of course, the only possible answer.

You lean back, the most relaxed person in the room by far. “You will take off your shirt for me, slowly, and you will enjoy displaying yourself for me.”

“Oh, God,” I think to myself. As usual, you have given me the very command I dread and yearn for most. My first thought is that everyone will see my golden collar, which simultaneously embarrasses me and makes me proud, since I am the only one in the room marked as yours. I run one hand slowly up my other arm, feeling the silky fabric. I close my eyes, wishing it were your hand touching me this way. Although I would love to remain in that fantasy, my hands, without any conscious decision on my part, then rise to my top button, undoing it and spreading the fabric open. They move to the next button and the next, each time opening my shirt further so that you and everyone else in the room may see my smooth chest. After the first three buttons, you murmur, “Stand up.” The table would have hid any further display, so I should have known that instruction was coming.

When I stand, I feel the gaze of everyone in the room on my shining collar and my erection, holding the fabric of my pants taut. Unable to stop myself, I continue the slow unbuttoning of my shirt, now revealing the flat, defined abs that you love to run your nails over. I finally reach the bottom, pulling the shirt tails out of my pants and then baring my shoulders slowly before the shirt is all the way off. I stand, very aroused, waiting for your next instruction.

You smile again, as if my stripping was exactly as you wanted it, and you wave your hand, making me notice for the first time that I am not the only one who has shed clothing. In just a quick glance, I see a lacy cream colored camisole, midnight blue silk boxers, and the serviceable white bra of the waitress, who is now being groped by the maitre d’.

And even though I know what the next command will be, my stomach drops as you utter the single word. “Continue.”

I sit briefly to slip off my shoes and socks, then stand obediently before you, hands on my belt, hesitating ever so slightly before your control takes over and I undo the buckle and slowly draw the belt out of its loops. This stalling is the extent to which I can resist your command, and you smile appraisingly as my hands unbutton my pants and slowly draw the zipper down. I am barely covered by the vinyl thong, but then you certainly knew that, as you are well aware of my size. The air is cool against my bare buttocks as I lower my pants and step out of them, feeling more naked than if I were wearing nothing. You stand, slowly and gracefully, and stretch ever so slightly, drawing the attention of everyone in the room to your nipples, which are evident beneath your skintight dress. You are as tall as I am with your silver heels on, and as you walk toward me, I look right into your eyes, forgetting for a moment the presence of the others in the room. You circle behind me as I stand motionless, yearning for a touch or a caress. When it comes, it is your hand on my collar, stroking its cool metal, calling my attention to the visual symbol of my relationship with you. Even this touch makes me take a deep breath. Then I feel you lean in close and feel your breath in my ear as you murmur, “I am very pleased, my pet.”

You sit again, pushing your chair slightly back from the table as you do so. The asymmetrical hem of your dress draws my eye as you stretch out one silky leg and place it on an adjoining chair. “Come here,” you motion, “and kneel.” The vision of you, legs spread, showing off the silver straps of your shoes, is so arousing that I forget the audience we have. I kneel between your legs, and you touch my face softly. “You want to please me, don’t you?”

“Yes, mistress,” I answer, and it is true. Regardless of the control you have over me, I still want to please you, to taste you, to hear your moans and know that I have caused them. One of your hands drops to your bare thigh, your red nails vivid against your pale, luminous skin. I follow your hand with my mouth, kissing and caressing the smooth skin while moving upwards very slowly. Around us I hear others doing likewise. Moans and the sounds of kissing fill the room, but I am focused on my mistress. I knew from before that you had only a satin thong on under your dress, so I carefully slid it down and removed it. Then when I have finished kissing up your thigh, I find myself immediately immersed in you, in your taste and the feeling of you against my mouth. You are incredibly wet and ready. You gasp at my first touch, and the sound makes me even harder, if that is possible. I kiss and suck while you move gently against me, then I slip two fingers inside, making you move faster and harder against me. The sounds you are making drive me crazy with desire and pride that I can please my mistress so well. I find the rhythm you like, and your gasps become moans that get louder and louder until you collapse against my hand and my mouth. I sit back on my heels, watching you in the aftermath of your orgasm. The swell of your breasts, the flush of your cheeks, the warmth of your body fill me with desire. After what seems like an eternity, but an intensely pleasurable eternity to me, you sit up and touch my face again. Your hand slips lower to my collar as you say, “Thank you, my pet. You may sit up now.”

Miraculously, the room seems to be getting back to normal, although no one has stopped to put any clothes back on. The disheveled but very happy waitress brings us dessert and coffee and we linger over it, smiling and talking a bit. Every so often, it occurs to me that I am wearing only a collar and a vinyl thong, and my erection has not subsided, but I know that I can wait for my own pleasure.

As we sit there eating dessert, you make small talk, seemingly oblivious to the fact that you are the only one clothed in the room. Most people have resumed normal activities, though some people in the room have once again begun to touch their partners, or themselves. I find myself so captivated by your appearance that I forget to listen to what you say, catching only the end of it.

“...and that is why you are unable to stop touching yourself.” Looking down, I see that it’s true. My hand is caressing my erection, straining against the smooth prison of the vinyl. Unable to stop myself, I moan softly, “Oh, mistress!”

I can see my helplessness is turning you on, and as your arousal grows, so too does everyone else’s. Once again, I begin to hear the sounds of lovemaking in the background. Clearly amused, you gently push yourself away from the table and gesture seductively to your feet, while your other hand strays almost casually to your pendant. I know what I must do. Involuntarily, I slip from my chair and kneel in front of you. For a moment I let my head graze your dress, feeling the slick material on my cheek. Then, lowering my head, I begin kissing your feet and legs, letting my tongue run over the silky smoothness of your skin. After devoting myself to this task for some time, I hear you sigh in pleasure. You caress my shoulder, and looking down on me you say “Kneel up.” I do so, straightening to hear your next instructions. “That was very good, my pet. And now I think you deserve release. Remove your thong.”

This I do slowly, wanting more than anything to be able to come yet still embarrassed by my nakedness in front of this room of people. Although many of them have shed all of their clothes too, being this close to you has made me part of the center of attention, and I know there are many eyes on me. Even as I struggle with the idea of being clad solely in my collar, my hands have undone the clasps on the sides of the thong and let it drop to the floor. My erection juts in front of me, almost brushing the frill of your dress. “Look into my pendant. As you do, you realize you can feel a thick loop of delicate satin moving back and forth across your cock.” Suddenly, I can feel it, and I begin to writhe slowly as the pleasure builds. After all the time I have been hard, this feels incredibly good. At your command, the motion of the imaginary loop gets faster and faster, and I can feel myself building to a climax. Your control of me is so complete that with my eyes closed, I would swear that there is such a loop, stroking me over and over while the tide inside me grows. You seem to know the exact moment when it becomes nearly impossible for me to hold back any longer, although I would never let myself climax without your permission. Leaning back you say simply “Come for me, my pet.” Unable to stop myself, I rock back and forth violently as my orgasm sweeps over me, my mind filled with thoughts of obedience.

You smile and lick your lips, then you stand before me and reach down to caress my golden collar. Turning, you reach into your purse and withdraw a matching gold leash. You tenderly affix one end to my collar, then turn and walk away, forcing me to follow on my knees. At the door you turn around and let your gaze sweep over the room, the still entranced (and still very aroused) people writhing before you. Smiling, you say “And now, everyone shall come for me, and know that you belong to me.” As we leave, I hear the cries of dozens of people orgasming at once, and I crawl faithfully behind my mistress as she saunters off into the night.