The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

June gently puts her hand on mine to stop the shaking. Without being asked, she gets a small towel and cleans up the coffee I spilled. I’m spilling everything. I trip. I stumble. I crash. I can’t do anything right. Even simple things are falling apart.

I can’t sleep. I haven’t slept in weeks. The house is too damn quiet. You go from three roommates to one, and now the house is too damn quiet. June is quiet too. She’s supportive, but always in silence. She kept telling me either everything was alright or everything was going to be alright, so I ordered her to stop saying it. She kept apologizing, so I ordered her to stop saying sorry. It’s banned. Talking is banned.

If this keeps up, quiet will be banned too. I’ll ban June. I’ll ban everything. I’ll ban myself. I’ll be nothing. Then, I can sleep. I can sleep when people stop looking at me. I can sleep when people forget what I did. I’m so stupid. I’m so selfish. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe what I did. I keep seeing Maria’s face, my best friend’s face, when they took her away. She didn’t cry. She didn’t smile. She glared at me with an iron mask. She was empty and lifeless. She was trying to be strong, as though they couldn’t hurt her if she didn’t care.

The first time I fell asleep, I had the nightmare. It’s the same nightmare every night. I can see her face, her mask, the mask of iron. She’s howling. Her smile spreads until it almost swallows her own face. There are tears of blood. She is an avatar of rage. The man in the suit leads her out in manacles. She’s a slave. Her chains rattle behind her. Reyna enters in a deep red dress that trails at the door. Her hair is wet and plastered against the back of her head. Her lipstick is like blood, it shines like blood, and she wears an amused smile. She walks right past Maria to me. Maria is taken out without a word. Reyna swishes her hips up to me. Her amber eyes glow red with hate and accusation. She talks to me. She tells me things. She tells me terrible things. Her accent is gone. It’s all hisses that reverberate in the back of my mind.

Look what you did. You gave away your best friend. You sold her. She became a problem so you sold her. You sold her into slavery. You sold a human being into slavery. You’re twisted. You’re sick. Your best friend. You went to war against me, a goddess, for her. And once you got her, you gave her up. You aren’t a bitch. You aren’t cruel. You’re nothing. You’re nothing. You probably got off on it. It turned you on, didn’t it? You pervert. You want to give her up. She’s an offering, isn’t she? She’s an offering to your goddess. Show me your pussy. You’re wet. I know you are. I can smell it. You’re wet watching her go in chains. You’re such a slut. You’re a slut. You’re a slut. You’re a slut. You’re a slut. You’re a slut. You’re a slut. You’re a slut. You’re a slut. You’re a slut. You’re a slut. You’re a slut. You’re a slut. You’re a slut.

She tells me the truth. Each night, after the nightmare, I wake up wet.

June refills my coffee and sits next to me on the couch. “You need to sleep,” she says.

“I know.”

“You’re falling apart.”

“I know.”

“We can go to a doctor and get sleeping pills.”

“I can’t. You know I can’t. The nightmare …”

“Medicine can help.”

“Medicine won’t change what I’ve done.”

“It will let you sleep. You can’t process this until you sleep.”

“I don’t want to see her face.”

“Sarah, listen to me.”

“I am.”

“Look at me.” I turn my head and look at her. She looks sick. She has no makeup on. I don’t know the last time she showered. “You’re not thinking straight,” she tells me. She’s pale and small. She always looked strong to me, always full of energy and tight muscles. “You won’t be able to think straight until you sleep,” she continues. She’s frail now. A small breeze could destroy her, and she doesn’t know I’m a hurricane. “We need to get you sleep, then we can worry about nightmares,” she adds. Her lips are chapped. I can see some breakouts on her skin. She’s falling apart with me. “Otherwise, your waking life will be a nightmare.” I’m ruining her. I’m ruining everything.

“I can’t do this,” I mutter.

“You’re not making sense.”

“I ruin everything.”

“You’ll feel so much better after you sleep.”

“I can’t. Reyna won’t let me.”

“Reyna has no power over you.”

“She does.”

“No. That’s in your head.”

“Everything is in my head. Reyna is in my head. Maria is in my head. The nightmares are in my head. The chains are in my head. I can hear the chains.”

“You’re not making any sense.” June gets up and heads into the bedroom. I see her go, but it takes too long for my eyes to register. Everything is slowed down. Everything lasts longer. Touches linger. Sounds echo. I can hear the chains, Maria’s chain, still rattling down the hallway. The manacles were heavy, that poor girl. There were more spots on the chain, more cuffs for more slaves. Were they for more girls? I helped empower them, and they will get more money and then more girls and more money and more girls. Were they for Sandra? For June? For me? Am I disgusted or am I turned on? Is this what Reyna wants? Am I intrigued? Am I desperate? I want to bury my head under blankets. I want to sleep. I want to die. I want it to stop. It needs to stop. It keeps getting worse. The harder I try, the worse it gets.

June sits down next to me. I hear music playing. It’s soft. I remember it. There’s a gentle flute playing and sounds of rain. It’s like yoga music. “What is that?” I mumble.

“Maria’s music,” says June. “I want to help you.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“I’m going to put you under. Then, you can sleep.”

“What about the nightmares?” My eyelids are heavy. I feel myself leaning towards June and keep pulling myself away, jerking back and barely staying awake. I can’t sleep. It’s not safe.

“I’ll deal with that, okay?”

“What about Reyna?” My head droops again, and I fall into June. She adjusts herself on the couch and lets my head fall in her lap. I turn, facing towards her stomach, and she runs her fingers through my hair. She lightly scratches my scalp, and tingles run over my whole body, making it heavier.

“Forget Reyna. Think about June. June will make everything okay. Focus on June. There is no nightmare, okay?”

“Okay,” I mumble. I close my eyes. It feels too good to shut them. It almost hurts in the best way, like stretching sore muscles.

“There is only June.”

“Only June,” I repeat.

“June is safe.”

“June is safe.”

“If Sarah is with June, Sarah is safe.”

“Sarah is safe with June.”

“Good. Listen to the music. Let everything fall away. Imagine yourself carrying Maria and Reyna and the nightmare. Put them down. Drop them to the floor and let them pop like water balloons. The water finds the edges of everything and runs away from you.”

I follow the image and feel my toes get wet. The water runs away from me, and my toes go dry. So dry. Dry like they’re near a fire. The heat spreads through my whole body. I’m warm by a fire, and the fire is June. She keeps me warm. “I love June,” I mutter.

“I love you, Sarah. It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay. June is here.”

“June is here.”

“I want you to let it go.”

“Let it go,” I echo.

“Let everything go.”

“Everything go.”

“Put all attachments down.”

“No attachments.”

“Put them away.”

“Away.”

“Put them down.”

“Down.” My eyes start to droop. The room gets blurrier and dark. At first I see flashes of Reyna, the demon in her red dress with red eyes. I blink. She’s gone. I blink, she’s slinking towards me.

“It’s so heavy.”

“Heavy.” I open my eyes. What time is it? Is it night? Everything is so dark.

“You don’t need to carry all of that.”

“Don’t carry.” I blink. Reyna’s back. She’s dressed in white, almost like a wedding gown. Her eyes are amber, and a string of pearls decorates her throat. I love her, and she’s reaching out to me. She’s floating. She’s light. Everything about her is light and easy.

“Let things be light,” says June.

“Light.” I whisper. I close my eyes. Reyna is there. She’s reaching out to me, waiting patiently. I fall asleep.

This goes on for days. Days become weeks. Every night I crawl into June’s lap. Every night she plays the music and takes me into trance. There, I can sleep. I rest and find peace. The nightmares don’t come anymore. Now, Reyna is in white when she visits me.

Life goes on. I’m not much of a domme anymore. I can barely work, let alone run the house. Hell, I can barely run my life, let alone June’s. June does most of the caretaking. She calls herself the maid or nanny, like that means she’s not in charge.

First, I forget Sandra. In time, Maria becomes more of a memory and less of black stain on my soul. One day, I remember that I’ve forgotten Jace. I’ve forgotten Karla. They become the background, and one day Maria will become the background too. One day, this will all become a memory. This will all be backstory. I’ll forget this pain. I’ll forget these people. There will be oblivion one day, and there will be peace.

It’s a Sunday afternoon. It’s raining outside. I’m watching TV, but it’s not something I care about. It’s background. June is cooking some pasta for lunch. It’s another day. They all blur together without someone in charge. Nothing happens but eating and breathing. We keep living, but we’re not alive.

“You hungry?” asks June from across the small apartment.

“Sure.”

“That’s convincing.”

“Yes. I’m hungry. Better?”

“Much,” she looks up from the stove and smiles at me. I love her.

“I was just thinking …” starts June.

“Be careful with that,” I joke.

“Cute.”

“I try.”

“As I was saying …”

“Continue,” I say.

“I haven’t made this meal in a while.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“When was the last time?”

“You sure you want to know?”

“Um … yes?” I ask. Why wouldn’t I want to know? I look away from the TV and give her my full attention. Something’s going on with her, and I’m missing it.

“Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No.” I get up from the couch and come into the tiny kitchen area. “Tell me.”

“You sure?”

“I think I know most your demons at this point.” I smile at her. She doesn’t smile back.

“You don’t. Not really.” Her tone is soft and serious. I sit down at the kitchen table and motion for her to sit with me. She shakes her head. “I can’t. I need to watch this.”

“What’s going on?” I ask. She’s scaring me.

“The last time I made this was for Reyna,” she whispers. “I didn’t cook often, but Reyna taught me how to make this dish. You didn’t know that.”

“No. I didn’t.” I whisper. We’re both soft and frail for no reason. Perhaps it’s because everything is so heavy now. We need to cushion each word.

“You don’t know much about my time with her.”

“It was short, wasn’t it?” I ask.

She nods. “It didn’t feel short.”

I take a deep breath. For so long, Reyna was a banned word among us. She was the enemy. She ruined things. But now, she isn’t the only thing holding us back. Maria ruined things for so long. Reyna was still looming behind us, haunting us, but Maria was the real enemy. Then, Reyna became a kind of savior. She rescued us from Maria. She held me in her arms while I cried. She did what was best for Maria, but more importantly, what was best for me. She looked out for me. Reyna is a part of my life. She’s a part of June’s life. She’s shaped both of us. I’d be a fool to ban her.

I get up and go to June. I take her hand. “It’s okay.” I give her hand a squeeze. “You can tell me. I can take it.”

“You sure?”

“I want to know.”

“What do you want to know?”

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious. I’ve imagined it before, often while Sandra or June was between my legs, what life with Reyna was like. What kind of goddess is she? How does she rule? I imagine quiet servants serving a Victorian Lady or pornographic sex slaves oozing down their legs while feeding her grapes. I can see so many possibilities and no truth. I want the truth.

“What was it like?”

“Cooking?” She smiles at me.

“Serving her.”

June takes a deep breath. “Are you sure?”

“It doesn’t need to be graphic. I’m curious.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything. Well, not everything.” I run my free hand through my hair. I need a shower. “I guess I want to know what Maria missed so much. Everytime I imagine Reyna’s estate as some torturous pleasure palace with red lights and leather and whips and I don’t know.”

June laughs lightly at that. She finishes stirring and starts to empty food onto plates. “It was nothing like that.” She puts the plates on the table and we sit.

“Then what was it like?” I ask, maybe a little too eager.

“Well, sometimes it was like work,” she starts. “I was her to attend her at all times. I thought it would be an orgy, too. I was excited to quit being a waitress for her, but in the end, I was a waitress for her. The thing about Reyna, the thing that I think Maria wanted, is that it gave everything purpose. I was a waitress to make money. I wanted money for security or small pleasures like seeing a movie. That’s it. That’s what I wanted, and that’s why I was alive. Serving Reyna gave everything purpose. I wasn’t a waitress for money. I was a waitress for Her.” I hear the capital letter in June’s voice. She’s eager. Reyna is more than a person or a memory. Reyna is a goddess. She is an object of worship, a fount of power, and a source of creation. June misses her. Her voice betrays her. She serves me now, little old me. Me in a heap on the couch barely eating. I’m no goddess. June keeps going, but I’m not present anymore. Her words enter and soak into the back of my mind, but my imagination has taken over. I imagine June in her maid’s outfit serving Reyna. It’s all harmless, but to June, to a slut, every moment oozes with sex. Each suggestion is an ironclad command. Each command runs from her ears to her cunt. That’s the word. I hate it, but that’s the word for sluts. Reyna doesn’t control June; she uses June. June loves to be used. She eagerly cleans, as though each task was an order to cum. Yes. It’s the same enthusiasm one has to make love, to fuck, that she has for serving each of Reyna’s whims. There is no force to anything Reyna does. One doesn’t command someone to feel pleasure while you rub their clit. That’s the neurological response. The neurological response to Reyna is obedience. It’s never a burden or a bother. It’s inevitable. It’s so inevitable that it becomes thoughtless. I can see June, pretty little June, obeying a command immediately. She doesn’t wonder if Reyna knows what she’s talking about. She doesn’t question. She doesn’t worry. She doesn’t care because she doesn’t think. She’s free. She doesn’t worry about bills or fights between other slaves or even what she’s going to wear or eat. Reyna makes those decisions now. Reyna replaces her thoughts, and in doing so, removes her anxiety and stress. For so long, we’ve been told we need more options. We need competition among our choices. What has that given us? Failure and anxiety. What we need, what we really need, is to have our choice taken away. Thoughtless June is so free. I envy her. I wish I could be so thoughtless and so free. I imagine myself in her maid’s outfit, running around Reyna’s estate, serving a goddess. She tells me what to wear. I don’t need to look fashionable for anyone ever again but her. She tells me what to eat. I don’t have to worry about diets or hate my body. If Reyna wants me curvy, she’ll keep me curvy. If she wants me thin, she’ll starve me. I’ll be free of it. I won’t need self-control anymore. Everyone tells me get more self-control. My whole life has been about self-control, but with Reyna, there is no self-control. The self is controlled by her. All you have to do is be a self. Exist. Live. That is true freedom.

Thoughtless Sarah is so free. She doesn’t worry about June or Sandra or Maria. She has no shame or regrets. How can she regret the decisions that aren’t hers? All decisions are Reyna’s, and Reyna makes no bad decisions. Reyna is always right. She is made of good decisions that she gives to Thoughtless Sarah freely. Sarah will clean. Cleaning is nothing. Anyone can clean. You don’t screw up cleaning. If you do, no one will judge your or hate you. Reyna will punish you and correct you; then, you won’t screw it up anymore. There is honesty and transparency. There are no hints or games. Reyna says what she wants. Reyna gets what she wants. It’s easy. It’s the most natural thing. Why would anyone want any different? Why would June want Sarah full of thoughts and worries? Why would June want Sarah with doubts and insecurities? June could have true control and true freedom. Here, with me, she’s limiting herself. She’s enslaved herself to a weak woman. She doesn’t deserve that. I don’t deserve that. We all deserve to be free.

“Do you ever think of going back?” I ask, interrupting whatever she was saying about cleaning Reyna’s kitchen.

June looks surprised. She starts to say something but stops herself. “Why do you ask?”

I smile. “I’m not suggesting you go back. Reyna doesn’t take people back.”

She looks down at the floor and mutters, “I know.”

“I was wondering if you miss it? You make it sound so nice.”

“Nice?” She looks up at me. Her eyes are hard.

“Yeah. You seem really nostalgic about it.”

“I’m not —”

“I promise I won’t be offended,” I interrupt. “I’m not worried about you preferring Reyna to me or anything like that. I love you. You love me. Reyna has nothing to do with this. I’m just curious.”

“Well …” She chews the bottom of her lip, stalling.

“I promise. This is a safe space.”

“You sure?”

“Promise.”

“Well, okay.” She takes a deep inhale, puffing herself up, and then slowly exhales before she starts. “I’d say, yeah, I miss it. I don’t miss Reyna, necessarily. She isn’t always kind. She likes to … tear down people.”

“What do you mean? Like, demean them?”

“She says it’s more like destroying them. She likes to strip away what they love more than anything. Once that’s gone, she rebuilds them in her image. She likes to find what they love most in the world and take it from them. Or rather, she makes them give it to her, as an offering. She’s not just mean. She’s cruel. There was one girl, Anna, the maid.” I nod, remembering the woman who answered the door at the estate. “Reyna went to Anna’s house, where she lived with her parents. Reyna rooted the family in place and made them watch while Anna licked Reyna’s feet and worshipped them and then … yeah …”

June trails off, embarrassed or uncomfortable to go on. But my imagination can’t stop. I can see Reyna, amused, sitting in a living room with a whole family, while Anna serves her goddess. Anna is embarrassed, but wildly turned on. Anna’s family is disgusted and disowning her, but unable to look away or stop. Reyna loves it. She’s turned on, not by the foot-worship, but by Anna’s shame. Anna’s destruction is what turns Reyna on. It’s the hunt and the kill that she loves.

“What did she …” I start but stop. I want to know, but I don’t want to scare June away. I’m turned on, and my imagination is voracious, but this could be pain and shame for June. I don’t want to hurt her.

“Do to me?” finishes June.

“Yeah.”

“She had just started. She didn’t respect me very much. I was too easy for her. She likes when there is more resistance.”

“Like?”

“Yeah.” June runs her hands through her hair and sighs deeply. “She wanted to break me. I told her I was slutty, and she wanted me to prove it. She would take to bars and clubs and … introduce me to people and …”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” I interrupt. June’s hands are shaking, and I grab each of them, trying to hold them still.

“No. It’s okay. I won’t get into the details. You asked if I missed it. I want to answer that. This feels very important to clear up.”

“You don’t have to.”

“This is important.”

“Okay.”

“I need some tea.” June stands up and turns on the kettle on the stove. She finds the teapot and puts two bags of tea in it. “You want some?” she asks. I nod. She gets two teacups out and paces back and forth in front of the stove waiting for the kettle to sing.

“I liked the sex,” she says finally. “Not that I don’t like our sex,” she says in a rush. “Sex with you is like a massage or a long bath. It’s a luxury. We make love. But Reyna, Reyna fucks. Reyna rides. With her, it’s like a workout or a battle or a something … religious. I don’t know. Does that make sense?”

“Yes …” I say. She thinks she’s hurt me, that I’m offended that sex with me is different than sex with Reyna. But I’ve always known that. Everyone knows that. I’m not hurt; I’m turned on. I’m thinking of Lady Lorelei. I bet she fucks. I bet Maria wants to be fucked. I bet Sandra wanted to be fucked. June wants to be fucked. This whole time I was giving her softness, and she missed being fucked. Everyone wants to be fucked, and now I know, I want to be fucked, too.

Carl never fucked me. No one’s ever fucked me. Carl put his pathetic cock inside me. Boys, who call themselves men, have as well. But no one has fucked me. I’m a virgin. I wonder what it’s like, to be ridden. To be hurt. To be tied up. To be used. I thought something was wrong with Maria, but maybe not. Maybe she understood what June understands. But I don’t get it. I’ve never had it.

“You okay?” asks June. “Did I hurt your feelings?”

“No, love. Not at all.” I get up and kiss her. She melts into me. I can feel her heat. She’s hungry to be fucked. I’m all gentleness, but deep down, she wants something hard. We both do. The kettle screams next to us.

You drive to work. The check engine light is on; the light shines in your eye from the dashboard. It’s amber. You’re safe. The road is empty. All the stoplights are green. The cityscape towers over you. You turn and turn but there is more city. The city is a wall and the city is a cage. You streak down the road. The smell of burnt rubber stings your nostrils. You roll over intersection after intersection. You are there forever. You will never leave the city, and the check engine light is on. There are no mechanics. You keep driving. You must keep driving.

A light suddenly turns red. You slam on the brakes. The tires screech and the car shudders. The car swerves but stops in front of a crosswalk. The pedestrian light glows red, and a blinking light in the corner of your eye tells the pedestrian to cross.

A woman in a white sundress with long black hair crosses in front of the car. She smiles and her amber eyes glow. The check engine light is on. She turns and puts up a “Road Work Ahead” sign in the middle of the road. Next to it, she puts up a “Detour” sign pointing to the right. Right. You must turn right. You obey and turn. The city gives way to a parking lot. You park and leave the engine running. The check engine light is on.

There’s a knock on your window. The dark-haired woman smiles. The sundress she’s wearing is sheer. You see she has no shoes or panties or bra. She asks you something. You can’t hear. You roll down the window. She smiles again. You look into the check engine light. She tells you she will drive. You nod. Of course.

You get out of the car. Your car is a wreck. The tires are thin and worn. The back bumper is dented. One window is missing. The body is scratched. The paint is faded. You get in the back seat. Reyna gets in the front seat. She pulls out of the parking lot. She turns right, going the opposite way. You have to go back. You can’t run away this time.

She takes you home. She opens the door for you and takes your hand. She leads you into your garden. It is full of peonies, hot pink and blooming. Their pollen is thick in the air. The garden is warm and moist. Reyna takes your hand and leads you down a long path. She guides you to a beauty parlor with a bathtub and table.

She crowns you with peonies and spreads petals across the room. You blush but feel no shame. You lay on the table and Reyna rubs oil into your back. You sigh with relief. She rubs it all away. There is no city and no car. There is no maze and no stop lights. You don’t have to stop. The check engine light is off. She rubs her hands into your back. You arch into her. You feel the pressure fall off. Your eyes close. You whimper with release. You roll your shoulders and feel nothing. You smile.

Reyna rolls you over and takes you to the bathtub. She washes away the dirt and oil. She washes your hair and ties it into a loose braid. She hums a soft song but never speaks. You know what her body is saying. You drift off in her arms. She shaves you all over. She takes you back to the table and waxes you. It doesn’t hurt. You feel the hair leaving. You are purged and free. Everything old is gone.

“What is your name?” she whispers in your ear when she is done and you are light as a kiss.

“I don’t know,” you say. It’s true. You have a memory of a name. Five letters. S-A-R-A-H. They have no meaning now. That is another girl. “Sarah?” you say. Not as an answer, but as a question. You are looking for Sarah, but she is gone.

“No, little one,” she whispers back. “You are my Paige.”

“Paige,” you hum. It tastes right in your mouth.

I wake up in a sweat. June is in the bed with me, but not against me. She’s on the far side. I look at the clock: 3 a.m. Something is wrong. I smell something. Is something burning? I get up and walk around the apartment. I check the door. It’s locked. I unlock it and lock it again, just in case. Something is off. I smell something in the air, something floral. I don’t know what it is. But that’s not it. I go into the bathroom and turn on the light. My hair is braided. When did that happen? I reach up and the hair feels slightly damp. Did June braid my hair? When?

I look down and see my panties are wrong. They’re lacey and pink. I don’t wear lace. I don’t wear pink. Are they June’s? I reach down to take them off. They’re soaked. My knees buckle. Goddess, I’m so wet. What was I dreaming about? I should stop. I should figure things out. I should get answers. I should do a lot of things, but the need in my pussy is too strong. How did I not notice this before? My body is ravenous. I need to be touched. I need to cum. Goddess, what is this?

I go to the bed to wake June, to have her get me off, but I stop. She’s asleep on the far side. I know if I woke her, she would be a good girl and eat me out. She’d play with me and do whatever I need. But this isn’t for June. It isn’t about June. I need to cum. I need it now. I fall into the bed and slide my hand down the new pink panties. I run my finger through my soaked pussy. Goddess, it’s bad. That must have been some dream. I start to do small swirls with my fingers against my clit. It won’t take long to get me off. My pussy is out of control.

I keep swirling and let my mind wander. I imagine June waking up and crawling over to help me. I imagine her getting wet just seeing how turned on I am. I imagine her in a maid outfit offering to help. I imagine her in Reyna’s estate, offering to serve me. I imagine me in Reyna’s estate, on Reyna’s couch, with June in a maid outfit offering to serve me. I imagine Reyna standing over June, offering June’s services. I’m close. I imagine Reyna on the couch, and I stand over maid June, offering June’s services to Reyna. I’m closer. I imagine Reyna standing over me in a maid outfit, offering my services to an unknown woman. She calls me Paige.

I cum.