The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The last time we all heard from Nurse Diva, she had been addressing her several visiting friends from Chicago: The visitors were tired, and a bit toasted as Nurse Diva had been plying drinks and reduced everyone’s inhibitions. Henceforth Nurse Diva’s friends will be referred to as ‘newcomers’ and town locals, original residents-as ‘locals.’

Nurse Diva had hand-selected friends, friends who just so happened to share her proclivities, her view point, attitude and who also had negative experiences in life that had shaped their rather strong opinions, on a variety of topics. So they were a finite few. Numerous fan requests for ‘more Nurse Diva’ predicated writing more, so here it is:

Nurse Diva cavalierly spoke to her friends; almost as if she was bored, as by now, she was so accustomed to easily changing the ‘uppity’ (read difficult/arrogant/superior acting) locals into her obedient underlings, and fawning obsequious ‘servants.’

Nurse Diva spoke: “Ladies, tomorrow we can all experience the truly dominant act over our inferior, through the tried and true practice of ‘face-sitting’ or ‘smothering.’ She giggled.

There is indeed a dynamic that gets imprinted on the mind of a submissive. Once you get them to accept their submission, and embrace it, as well as their place in the ‘pecking order’ you kind of ‘burn it in’ to their core personality, and they remain easily under your control.”

She sipped her drink.

Nurse Diva: Frankly, there are lots of videos about it online, and for some well… it’s a kink on all it’s own.

I mean honestly: I have actually been approached by bored vanilla housewives wanting to try something kinky with me enough times just while out grocery shopping.. so I made it part of this program.”

However, instead of mere actors, pretending to be ‘into it’, you will have real local women, who now know their rightful place and who will participate…. willingly. They have been deeply conditioned to not only crave it, but to respond to repeat sessions with increased obedience, losing a little of themselves with each session.

Suffice to say, they will not resist, as you bring them to the brink of unconsciousness, then actual unconsciousness, as they now have no will or desire to fight their natural superior, or engage their natural instinct. They now embrace their submissive place, and they require your guidance.

Once these women go unconscious, you’ll need to slap them back into consciousness, or you could use smelling salts, it’s your choice.

I personally prefer the smelling salts, as I enjoy the look of shock and awe and their increased obedience, and their awe of you on their faces.

Again, they have been fully conditioned to go even deeper into submission and display even more obedience every time they experience this’. Diva looked up from her phone for a moment and continued.

‘Naturally, it does reduce their original personality by a few small degrees each time this is done, but it takes close to 70 times before they become reduced to a practically human robot or ‘mannequin’ status. They’ll still obey direct commands from any ebony mistress, but the rest of the time they ain’t got much to say, they just look at you like an obedient dog and wait for you to tell them what to do. Afterwards, you may share them, you know if someone needs a maid.. as it’s very empowering, as you’ll soon see.”

Diva laughed, then rolled her foot in front of her friends and cracked it loudly. She pointed at it.

Diva continued:

‘Then later, I will explain ‘footing’ to you. It’s exhilarating. Sure.. it kinda does make them useless for men, due to all that stretching, and their new association of pleasure, but since they pretty much exist to serve us now anyway, who really cares? I mean, the chickens have come home to roost. I watched the film Fetish 4 starring Sandra Romaine, and that video changed my life, lol. The star even admits in the special features how she actually loves footing. So you do it once..and you’re sold on the idea.

We’ll just add that to the list of the other activities you mentioned in your various emails. Lastly, it might be chilly tonight, certainly not like back home, but I’ll flip a coin, each room as can each use one local woman as a foot warmer.

They simply sleep at the end of the bed, under your covers, keeping your feet nice and warm while you sleep. Heads for the maid, tales for Party Beeattch” Nurse Diva tossed the coin.

Flash forward to a year and a half later.

A year and a half had passed since Nurse Diva took unprecedented control over a number of the single local women in the small Southern town. She never slowed down.

Every recent transplant, a ‘newcomer’ from large urban areas now had their own personal maid, and a small, but very hard working cleaning staff, that seemed to utterly worship their new employer.

The small town had taken on almost an “stepford like’ quality. No crime. No vandalism, just peaceful, docile local residents, residents that eagerly catered to and obsequiously served the new comers.

Just about every, formerly single, once available, young woman, who previously had plans and aspirations, now instead, eagerly fawned over their Ebony mistress’s every whim.

They were all noticeably submissive, servile and obsequious to even the very youngest of their ‘betters.’ These now ultra-submissives all curtseyed, bowed, knelt before, and eagerly did foot rubs for the newcomers in public.

A Day at the Coffee Shoppe

It wasn’t uncommon to see two or more, statuesque Newcomers enjoying lattes while their young barista’s knelt, and then carefully removed the newcomer woman’s shoes, and then quietly filed their toenails, and then polished them, and then quietly blew on them until dry, and then humbly and diligently massaged their tired calves after they served the newcomer woman coffee. All with a look of admiration and awe on their faces, expressing that doing so was a privilege for them.

Quite often, if a Newcomer woman was busy reading an article on her phone, or mid conversation with a friend, and the service was already completed, (nail salon, coffee, purchasing a dress, shopping for glasses, clothes, the vitamin store, jewelry, etc.)

Rather than immediately vacating their chair or table, or leaving the second a purchase was made, Diva encouraged them early on to ‘relax, give those feet a rest’, so she could simply order their female local server to: ‘dock now’ in a flat, forceful tone. If the newcomer felt like having a friendly chat with the recently installed new manager (always one of Diva’s friends), sometimes the manager would ‘dock’ a local employee so the 2 could chat freely.

This phrase ‘dock now’ had been installed as a powerful posthypnotic trigger to allow the friends of Diva to avoid any annoyance. The mere uttering of the phrase ‘dock now’ was quite powerful.

Upon hearing this phrase ‘dock now’ the servile local woman would: freeze for a moment, then her expression would go completely blank, to be replaced by a goofy grin. Silently and immediately, she’d kneel in front of her customer. She’d then carefully remove the woman’s shoes, and then place her own face deeply into the woman’s pale soles, inhale deeply while gripping the Newcomer woman’s ankles, hoping by hope there would be scent. Even if there was none, she’d then remain stationary, silently in place, in a deep trance, deeply excited to be there, mentally reviewing her social place in her mind, and mentally rerunning her programming, filled with gratitude until ordered to ‘resume work’ by the newcomer client.

Once she heard that phrase she would leave trance, then carefully place the Queen’s shoes back onto her feet, then profusely thank her and then continue as if nothing had happened, and yet when she glanced at the newcomer she would feel a twinge of a school girl crush with a deepened desire to serve her specifically should she return to the store. It was commonplace to give the Newcomer who ordered docking a piece of paper with open schedule days and their ph# should they desire her to work for her.

It wasn’t uncommon that one could walk past a downtown store or thru the local mall, and see every ‘original town resident’ female employee simply ‘docked’ while their betters (the newcomers) finished a phone call, or ate a Danish or so while taking their sweet time.

Often the servant woman would remain in place 30-45 minutes, until the newcomer woman ordered them otherwise. It sure beat standing around waiting for customers, what an honor for the locals, on a good day a local could get docked several times, and was on cloud 9 by the end of her work day, hoping one of the Newcomers might call her for maid work or to work a party.

Most of the town’s stores and restaurants had changed hands, and of course their menus, to specifically cater to their newcomer clientele’s tastes and requests. Chicago style pizza, etc. was now available.

That car with the Florida plates.

Then, one brisk Fall Afternoon, a strange car with Florida plates showed up at the former home of “The Artist.” It was almost surreal, as the woman who emerged from the car was the spitting image of the artist, as she had looked over a year ago, before ‘extensive training, and restyling” by Nurse Diva.

Her hair was a slightly different color, and a little longer, but it was obvious it was the artist’s twin sister, she had a couple more pounds on her than the artist did but that was fixable as was her tan, and haircut.

The “artist’s estranged twin: Camellia, who hadn’t contacted the artist for quite some time.

Camellia had recently broken up with the man whom the artist abhorred, and Camellia wanted to build bridges again, not having spoken to her estranged sister for several years. We finally discovered that ‘the artist’s name was Pauline, which in French means humble…how appropriate.

Camellia calmly walked up to the front door of the now sorority home, only a year or so ago, her twin sister’s home, and she of course knocked. A young blonde woman answered the door, wearing a maid’s outfit, and she seemed a bit vapid.

“Um, like hello? Are you like here to like work for like the Omicron Psi Omega Sisters?” she asked.

Camellia had no idea what the young woman was talking about. Camellia: “I’m actually here to see my sister, Pauline, the artist, doesn’t she live here?

The maid: “I will like ask one of my superiors if they like know, please um, like come in.”

Camellia followed the rather vapid maid inside and saw the place was truly a sorority house, appointed with all the symbols and framed documents of a sorority, but it was a sorority of rather lithe, very athletic, seemingly angry young women, either lounging on chairs looking at their phones, or playing pool, or getting their feet pedicured or getting a massage from their servile female ‘staff’.

A young athlete walked past Camellia and handed her a glass. ‘Bring me another peach punch, but with more rum this time, and my bunion needs work again, I’ll be right back.” She walked away toward the bathroom supposedly.

Camellia gulped audibly, it was quite surreal to her. She had been mistaken for a maid, or massage therapist, reflexologist and she was no such thing, yuck.

She had been the ‘chief experience officer’ at a small credit union until she decided to stay at home.

Just then, young Aniqua, now a college freshman, emerged from a room wearing nothing but a towel. She cavalierly snapped her fingers twice, and then she simply dropped the towel. The vapid maid scurried to pick up the damp towel, and she showed no shame sniffing it before she carried it to another room, and then quickly returned with a jar of coconut oil.