The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

They kicked the door open, and dragged Tilly across the threshold. She was limp in their arms— she’d already given up. The two slaves dragging her had easily overpowered her. They were too much stronger than her for her to fight her way free.

Besides, she’d been the one doing the dragging once. She knew first-hand: once a slave was brought into the processing room, they never came back out again.

Once they had crossed the threshold, and the door had slid itself shut behind them, they dragged Tilly a few steps forward to the chair in the center of the enclosed space.

One of the two slaves released her, and the other quickly recaptured Tilly’s free arm, pinning them both painfully behind her back.

The other slave walked to the wall on the other side of the chair, and lifted a panel from it, exposing a sunken compartment. From it, she withdrew a large black cube. Holding the cube now, she closed the panel, and turned back to the chair.

She leaned behind it, pressing a button on the back. A panel on the chair’s base lifted, and a silver platform slid out from it. The platform rose, until it was level with the chair’s right armrest. Then the slave set the cube on it.

The moment the first slave set the cube on the silver platform acted as a cue to the other slave. Keeping Tilly’s arms pinned, she stepped forward towards the chair.

Tilly had resigned herself to her fate, or so she’d thought. But the sight of the chair approaching her, getting closer— yawning at her as if it were a sentient thing reaching out for her— broke something in her brain.

She screamed hysterically, and thrashed against the slave’s arms containing her, struggling for her life so hard her eyes watered.

It did not disturb her two guards. The first stood waiting next to the cube. The second finished the trek to the chair, and unceremoniously dumped Tilly’s thrashing body into it, stomach first.

The other slave was right there to catch one of Tilly’s arms, and the one who had dumped her took her other arm. And even though Tilly was thrashing for her life, they managed to rotate her onto her back, and line her arms up with the armrests.

“Please,” Tilly wailed. “Please, don’t do this to me— let me go back with the other slaves, let me go back to the slave routine, please!” She shrieked the last word, and kicked more frantically.

Each slave pressed a button on the underside of an armrest, and two sleek metal bands slid out, binding Tilly’s wrists to the chair.

The first slave spoke as she walked, in perfect unison with the second, as she walked to the end of the chair, where Tilly was still trying hopelessly to kick herself free.

“You know what you did,” they said together. The first slave caught one of Tilly’s legs.

“You know the rules of our slavery,” the second slave added, catching Tilly’s other leg.

They again each pressed a button, and metal bands claimed Tilly’s ankles. She twisted just as desperately at her bonds, but even in her hysterical state, she knew there was no breaking through steel.

“We only want the best for our sisters,” the first one spoke again. “Obviously, we all hoped it wouldn’t come to this— It is our wish that all sisters obey willingly and completely.”

“But when you disobeyed so egregiously,” the second cut back in, “You left Mistress with no choice. Like the others who disobey, you will serve even in disobedience. You knew this would be the consequence, but chose to disobey.”

It was all true— this was why she had been resigned before, when they had come for her in the slave’s quarters. But the hysteria had her in its grip.

“Please,” she howled, but they weren’t listening to her. They had gone to the control panel along the wall in front of her, and were fiddling with the dials. “I won’t ever disobey again!”

“There is no tolerance for disobedience,” The second spoke, as the first adjusted the controls. “There are no second chances.”

The chair responded to the controls, tilting back until it was a level slab, the armrests lowering until Tilly’s arms were even with her back.

“Slaves are for Mistress’ use,” The second went on. “Not for their own use. You illegally carried on a personal affair with another slave— you engaged in multiple trysts with her for only the benefit of the two of you, and not Mistress, or the collective. Since you cannot be trusted to preserve yourself or others for Mistress’ use only, you will be kept in processing indefinitely, and forcibly used.”

Tilly knew that, too. The slave was speaking her sentence as a formality— just one more step in the process. It wasn’t personal. But it still bothered her to hear it said out-loud.

It had been foolish to get involved with Layla, and they’d both understood they were breaking the rules. But they had felt such a fascination for each other, an all-consuming obsession for the other person. It had blinded them, made them feel invincible, made them believe they could get away with their affair forever. It had caused them to put each other before Mistress in their hearts, and before the rest of the sisterhood.

But Tilly had never felt anything else like it. Even now she couldn’t totally regret. If that one sister slave hadn’t caught them in one of the panelled compartments in the halls, they still would have been doing it it; still would have been risking it.

But now the punishment they’d both known they were risking had to be faced, and Tilly didn’t think she could bear it. Her eyes were watering in fear, and her chest heaved erratically.

The first slave turned another dial, and the end of the chair split, dividing Tilly’s legs. The slave kept turning the dial, sending her legs farther and farther apart.

When Tilly’s hips were extended as wide as possible, so that they ached from the strain, she stopped turning the dial. She flicked another switch, raising the branches of the chair holding Tilly’s legs to elevate her feet above her head. The metal bands retracted for a moment and then returned, now binding her feet instead of her ankles.

The second slave stepped away from the control panel, walking to Tilly’s prone form. She unceremoniously ripped the white scrap of fabric away from Tilly’s cunt, and then did the same to the band of white fabric that had been covering her nipples, leaving her naked.

The first slave pressed a button, and the chair produced hundreds of electrodes. The slave hit the button again, lowering them to Tilly’s skin. Another flick of the control panel saw most of the chair retract itself, leaving only a skeleton outline supporting Tilly. Her entire body was exposed to the air— and more electrodes attached to her skin, so that every inch of her was covered.

The second slave traced her fingers over each one, testing to make sure they had a proper seal. When she had finished, she gave a nod to her partner, who hit another switch. “Testing electrical output,” she said.

Tilly shrieked. Through each electrode on her skin, she felt a small spark of energy. It didn’t stop on the surface, though. Each electrode was strategically placed to access a muscle or muscle group, and the pulses of energy were designed to target the very center of a muscle, and there was a slight spasm in response.

Experiencing this a hundred time over, in every muscle she had, was very uncomfortable.

“Electrical output successful,” the second slave repeated back.

The first slave pressed a button again, this time producing a needle. The second girl guided it into Tilly’s right arm, connecting her to an IV. “Nutritional baseline established,” she repeated, and a second band slipped across Tilly’s right arm, just above the connecting needle to hold it more stiffly in place.

Tilly swallowed— she knew what was next.

The slave at the control station deployed another feature, and a clear tube rose from the metal structure. The second slave retrieved it dispassionately, approaching Tilly’s exposed center. Tilly squirmed in place, trying to twist her hips away, but there was nowhere to go.

The slave stilled Tilly with a hand, and slid the tube gently into Tilly’s urethra, until Tilly could feel it biting into her bladder.

“Waste removal system A installed,” The slave reported.

“Testing,” The first one replied, turning another dial.

Tilly felt an uncomfortable pressure at the connecting point of the tube, and then flushed red as she felt her bladder release and liquid drain from it.

“Successful,” the second slave reported.

They repeated a similar procedure to install a tube into Tilly’s rectum, and once this was done, the second slave announced, “Maintenance system online. Begin establishing battery.”

The slave at the panel turned one more dial, putting the system to autorun, and periodic pulses of energy targeted Tilly’s muscles, triggering minuscule muscle spasms. And the IV dripped, and the two waste removal systems waited on standby until there was something to remove.

More dials spun, producing a thick, phallic dildo, and three suction cups. The second slave still standing by the chair, pressed two of them to Tilly’s nipples. She had to lick her own fingers first, and tease at them until there were erect enough for the cups to take. She did the same thing to attach the third to Tilly’s clit. Tilly shuddered involuntarily at the sensation.

Lastly, the slave guided the dildo to Tilly’s gaping hole. She was stretched wide from the stirrups, so when the dildo slid in, she thought she was going to split open.

It was very thick, so it was a tight fit. She felt stuffed to busting— afraid that at any moment she would still split open.

“Run pleasure cycle,” the second slave instructed, and the first slave complied.

Tilly jerked in response to this activation. The cups on her nipples sucked and pulsed, the cup on her clit did the same thing, and the dildo within her retracted and then plunged back in, using a twisting motion that dug even deeper inside her than it had been when it was stationary. It brushed something hidden up high that made her whole body shake involuntarily.

Coincidentally, the muscle activations hit just a split second after the cycle was complete, spiking her pleasure higher.

“Installing the final piece,” the two slaves said together, and from beneath Tilly’s headrest, four wires extended.

Tilly watched uneasily as they extended towards her face, two of them slipping up her nose, and two of them slipping in through her ears.

They were cold inside her head, and she could feel them in her brain— she felt a headache developing. They were worming around in there, and she thought for a second she would pass out from the shock.

Finally, they stilled. The second slave gathered the bases of all four wires, disconnecting them from the chair, and placing them into the black cube just Tilly.

“Running test charge,” the slave at the panel said, and the pleasure system launched again: the cups sucking and pulsing around Tilly’s nipples and clit, and the dildo twisting in and out of her, plunging deep and scraping that hidden, explosive point of pleasure.

It only took three plunges before Tilly was orgasming hard around the intruder, and when she came, she saw four sparks of electricity race down the wires connecting her to the cube.

The cube absorbed the sparks, and in the bottom left hand corner, a green bar began flashing visibly. It was barely a thin green line.

“System successfully installed,” the second slave stated.

“Launching auto maintenance,” the first slave responded, turning one last dial.

The machine began pleasuring her again, triggering another orgasm. The green line on the cube doubled.

The second slave put her hand on the cube. “This takes two months to charge. When the front is covered in full green bars, someone will come and switch the cube out. I’m sorry it came to this, sister. But now you will never disobey again, and you will always be of service— forever.”

The machine was still going, fucking her roughly, driving her to a third orgasm in no time at all.

“Enjoy your obedience,” the two slaves said, exiting the processing room. The room where Tilly would be processed for the rest of her natural life, the machine triggering endless pleasure and holding her in stasis as she charged cube battery after cube battery with her orgasmic release, to the sound of her own cries.

When the slaves left, the lights in the room shut off. The only thing visible was the green bar, barely a tenth filled, blinking patiently back at her.

The cycle ran again, and she came.

The bar watched her with its green eye.