The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Chapter Fifty Seven

Among people infected with the slave virus, Anthony Sirica was one of two people who held a unique position: he knew he was infected. And when he was called upon to do his master’s bidding, he knew exactly what he was doing and why. He was not capable of telling anyone about this. As a general rule, he was repulsed by all of these facts. All because his roommate, his stupid, fucking roommate, found the password and decided to use it himself.

Only Anthony and Trevor (his roommate) knew they were slaves. Anthony had turned Trevor into a slave, and commanded him to be aware of his status as a slave, but Trevor didn’t know what Anthony knew when Anthony was not acting under someone’s orders. Of course, neither man talked about it.

In the few days since he had become a slave, Anthony left his dorm room as seldom as possible. He didn’t want to risk seeing someone and either turning them into a slave, or being controlled by them. Trevor tried to convince Anthony that it wasn’t as bad as he seemed to think, but to no avail.

It was starting to get dark, and Anthony was brooding in the silence. Trevor had gone off to who-knows-where. That’s when Anthony felt it. It was a strange sensation. To call it a tingling wouldn’t be accurate, but it was somewhat pleasurable. It was centered in his lower abdomen, just below his waist, but not at his cock. There was definitely something sexual to it, but not in the traditional sense of the word.

For the first time since he had been infected, all of Dr. Smith’s slaves received a mass-command. Whatever they were doing at the time no longer mattered. All that mattered now was that someone—anyone—would find a student named Heather McCann, seduce her, and infect her with the slave virus. Anthony decided that he would be the one. It was his destiny. He tried to shake off this ambition, recognizing that it was just the parasite that coursed through his veins and could easily control his mind and body, but to no avail.

Wherever Heather McCann was, he would find her. And it would be good. And maybe, just maybe, Master would be pleased with his work, releasing him from his personal hell.

Chapter Fifty Eight

Junior Agent Sara Colburn, acting undercover and using the alias of Heather McCann, was walking across campus with Lori Carlton, with whom she attended Dr. Gordon Wallingford’s bioethics class. The two were headed towards the garage where Colburn’s car was parked.

“Thank you for doing this for me, Heather.”

“Not a problem, Lori. After we get in the car, I’d like to know a little bit more about how the whole slave-password thing works.”

“Sure.”

As the two women strode past the entrance to the library, several students who were leaving that building turned their heads in a “double-take” manner and casually started to follow them closely behind. As they continued on their path, more and more students did the same.

Colburn recognized that something was amiss as the crowd of people following them kept growing. “Listen to me carefully, Lori. Don’t turn around, whatever you do. Something just doesn’t feel right about things right now. Let’s pick up the pace a little bit.”

“I agree.”

As they passed by one of the dorms, they saw people quickly filing out of the doors, some of whom were wearing very little in the way of clothing. Although no one was fully naked, there was one guy whose cock was hanging out of his pants and a couple of girls wearing only a nightgown and panties.

At the sight of this, Lori started to panic. “Heather, look! What ... what are .. what d-d-do we d-d-d-do now?”

The undercover agent pulled the top of her blouse up, so that it was covering her nose and mouth. She turned to Lori and gestured that she do the same. Lori didn’t understand why, but didn’t feel like arguing.

“Good. Now let’s run!”

The student and the agent broke into a sprint; easily forty or fifty students were following them.

The garage was nearly in sight, but Lori, who was not in as good a physical shape as the FBI agent, had to slow down and take a breath. “Heather! Wait. Wait up one second,” she panted.

Lori came to a stop. She lowered her blouse from her nose and mouth and bent over in an attempt to catch her breath. The crowd of students drew closer.

“Heather! Hang on! Do you smell something? It smells so sweet....” The agent stopped when she heard this. She turned around and, to her horror, she saw one of the slaves put his hand on Lori’s shoulder.

Lori’s breathless pants seemed to evolve from short breaths of exhaustion to ones of lust and passion. There was a calm look in her eyes as she stood up. In a fluid move, she lifted off her shirt, revealing a simple, white brassiere below.

Colburn saw this and knew that Lori couldn’t be rescued. Judging by the smile on her face as she caressed the guy’s shoulders and forearms, Lori didn’t want to be rescued anymore, either.

Lori let her long, flowing skirt float to the ground as she reached her hands down the front of her man’s pants. Colburn was too far away to hear what she was saying.

As the guy reached around Lori to unclasp the bra, Colburn decided that it would be best to leave her behind. The garage was so close, too.

The agent sighed. She regretted what she just saw, half-hoping that all of those slaves were going after Lori. Those hopes were immediately shattered when she heard a familiar voice—a woman’s voice—calling out, “That’s her! She’s a Fed! She’s not a student!” Was that Brookings?

She saw the entrance to the garage and she made a run for it. Her car was parked on the third floor, but she decided the best way to go was through the actual ramps, rather than the stairs or elevator. With any luck, she’d make it to the safety of her car and get out of there.

As she rounded her way up the ramp and came back around to the second floor, she saw several slaves casually moving towards her. They were coming out of the stairwell and the elevator.

Every muscle in her body ached, burned, as she kept running. She was still able to keep a somewhat safe distance away from the slaves, but she also recognized that “safe” might be a relative term.

Her car was in view. It was all black, an inexpensive Toyota Camry. She had thrown books and CD’s around the interior to make it hard to distinguish from other students’ cars. There were a four or five slaves walking towards her, but she figured she could fight them off.

She calmed down and walked straight towards them. The first two people she saw, were people she recognized from her class: Tom and Christina. “I don’t mean to do this to the two of you, but...” She jumped in the air and performed a perfect karate roundhouse kick, knocking Tom into Christina as they both lay on the ground, stunned by this unexpected move.

Colburn calmly walked by and saw three other students approaching her. She didn’t recognize any of these students and got into a position to knock them down, too, when she felt someone grab one of her legs. She stumbled a moment and looked down to see that it was Christina again.

“Get off me, Christina!” Seeing Christina, the girl in her class who always seems to trumpet the fact that she had made a virginity pledge, acting in a manner totally outside of her control was disconcerting. Clearly, Dr. Wallingford could control anyone and make them do anything.

Through all of the kicks and struggles, Christina maintained a strong grip first on Colburn’s left ankle, and then her right.

Christina stood up, and Colburn lost her balance. As she fell backwards to the ground, her right arms caught on something—or someone. When she turned to look and see that it was one of the other slaves she had just seen, someone grabbed her right arm. Christina and the two slaves holding her arms held her firmly and stepped back, pulling her off of the ground. She heard another man’s voice. “She’s mine!”

Colburn took a deep breath and held it. She saw the man who just claimed her for his own. He was a small guy, with thick glasses. He stepped out of the shadows and smiled at her. “My name is Anthony. I am about to turn you into my slave.”

He leaned over her and she felt his hot breath on her face. She tried to squirm out of the grips of her three captors, but couldn’t.

Anthony started to take off what few clothes he was wearing. “Let’s see now. I’ve got a few different ways of making you want to fuck me. Which one shall it be?

“You’re holding your breath. You can’t do that forever, but I won’t release the gas into the air, out of respect for your ability to fight. That just leaves my tongue. Should I ...”

He brought his face close to hers, close enough that their noses were a mere inch or two apart. She turned her head away and squinted her eyes. “... give you the kiss of lust?”

He ran his hands down the center of her chest, over her navel, and to the button that sealed her jeans around her waist. “Or should I go straight to the source?”

With her legs both being held by one person, she tried to twist her legs out of Christina’s grip, but Anthony’s hands remained on her jeans’ waistband. Christina looked at Anthony. “Go straight to the source.” She punctuated this comment with a one-word compliment: “Stud.”

Anthony unbuttoned Colburn’s jeans and rolled them, along with her panties, down past her hips, revealing, her cunt, clenched but completely exposed, for everyone present to see. Colburn struggled some more but to no avail.

Anthony stuck his tongue out. Colburn screwed up her face, squinting and clearly not wanting to see or feel what was about to happen.

She felt a certain warmth as his tongue came in contact with her labia, gently sliding into her slit and then coming out to tease her clit. She let out a gasp and relaxed.

“Very good, Heather. If that’s your real name. What is your real name?”

Colburn didn’t say anything, even as she felt herself getting hornier and hornier.

“Okay. Maybe that’s too much to ask. Tell you what. Let me tease you some more.” Colburn bit her lip and started to moan silently as the pleasure built up between her legs. “Do you like that?”

“Yessss.....”

“Good. I’m going to stop now.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I want to know your real name.”

Colburn closed her eyes and debated to herself whether she should say her real name.

Chapter Fifty Nine

Agent Michael Warrington returned to his office from a long, calming cigarette break. He sat down at his desk and started to compose his report, of how Junior Agent Colburn deserved a promotion for her work on the case of the sex-virus. All that was left was to find the right time and capture Dr. Gordon Wallingford, a.k.a. John Smith, and deactivate the disease.

He glanced over to the window on his computer monitor, which still held the live feed from Colburn’s rented apartment. There was no sound coming through his computer’s speakers, and he was surprised to see that the two students who believed they were filming a porno movie, had left the scene.

Warrington decided to review what he had missed, rewinding to just before the two students left the scene. They were having sex doggy-style, both of them facing the camera. By the looks on their faces, they were enjoying doing this.

Then suddenly, they both stopped moving for about a second. In an instant later, the guy, Brad, had stood up. Without a word, he casually walked right past the camera, clearly still aroused. The girl, Kate, did the same. Neither said a word, and no other sound came through the video feed.

“What the fuck just happened? Where are these fucking kids?”

He backed up the video again. The two of them were clearly in the throes of passion when they just up and left, as casually as one would leave the table at an informal restaurant or a fast-food place. No communication. Just stand up and walk out.

Something was clearly wrong. He didn’t know exactly where Colburn was at this moment, but he felt it prudent to send her a message. He quickly shifted computer applications to the one that allows him to send a message directly to someone’s cell phone. He typed, “Something strange in video. Be vigilant against possible slaves approaching. Please confirm status.”

Chapter Sixty

Colburn had stopped struggling against her captors. She was still wearing her bra, and her panties were rolled up around her knees. The rest of her clothes lay crumpled a few feet away. By now a large crowd of people—slaves seeking confirmation that she had been captured—had formed a circle around her and Anthony. Some of the slaves were releasing an aroma into the air that was intended to hasten her arousal.

“How are you feeling now, Heather?”

Colburn, who was sitting in the middle of the garage, found herself running her hands over her entire body, shuddering at the feel of her own hands, and let out a low moan. “Gooooood.”

“Do you want to feel even better?”

“Oh, yessssss.”

“All you have to do is say one word, Heather. Do you know what that one word is?” Colburn paused and racked her brain. Anthony, growing increasingly impatient, answered his own question. “Tell me your real name.”

She took a deep breath and was about to say it when a persistent beeping noise interrupted her. Anthony traced the source of the beeping to the pocket of her jeans. He found her cell phone and read the message from Agent Warrington out loud.

He spoke loudly with words clearly dripping with condescension. “Michael Warrington, huh? Who is he? Never mind! Would you say you’re all right?”

Colburn’s eyes bulged and she wanted to say that she wasn’t, but all she could think about was how aroused she was. How much she needed to get laid. “Sara! My name’s Sara. Now will you fuck me?”

“As soon as I respond back to Michael.” He spoke slowly as he used her cell phone to respond to his message. “Am OK. Will be back shortly. Thank you for warning.”

Anthony sat down next to the compromised Junior Agent and unhooked her bra, throwing it to the slaves who had gathered to watch. He leaned over to suck on one of her nipples and she leaned backwards, hands high above her head. She knew that she shouldn’t do this, but she couldn’t control herself. It just felt so right.

She kicked her underwear off and spread her legs; her soft, swollen, moist mound was clearly anticipating the pure pleasure that only this man could provide. “Take me, please, Anthony!”

He was all to glad to oblige her in this moment of need. Several other people who happened by and smelled the aromas being emitted by the gathering slaves also felt the need to be “taken.”

Within an hour, the count of Dr. Warrington’s slaves had grown by more than 100. The master watched the counts increase on his computer and smiled. Soon, he would have nothing to concern himself with.