The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive




I can’t stop them when they remove the tube. There are too many. I can’t even think what to do. I scream but I’m ignored. Nothing works. They hold my arms firmly while another one attaches a collar around my neck. I struggle as much as I can but that doesn’t stop them dropping another tube around me.

Eventually creepy Heather comes and stares at me.

“This is what’ll happen if you disobey,” she says and presses the button on her remote. I scream as the collar shocks me and try to pull it off my neck but the tube stops my arms from going there. I can’t bend or fall either, so I just flop around.

When I’m recovered enough, she says, “I don’t want to hear any sound from you until I give you permission.”

I watch her call someone.

“Hi Zac. This is Heather.”


She laughs. “Yes, that was a great night. We must do it again sometime.”


“Yes, I did call about business. That description you sent out yesterday. I have the perfect girl for you. Can you see her?”

When I hear that I try again to shake this tube apart and I start to scream which turns to a scream of pain when the collar zaps me. I shut up again.


“Yes, it was. She isn’t trained yet, but that’s the way you want this one.”

She moves about, still talking to him. She flips some switches.

“Can you see her from all views?”


“Good. Isn’t she just what you want?”

I shake my head and tears fell down my face afresh..

“Five foot seven. We checked that specifically.”


“How is that a problem? You can always enhance them.”

She laughs at something he says while she checks her face in a mirror.

“Now come on. You know I can’t tell that. We’ve just taken her and we need to get her away from here quickly. We don’t have time for a doctor’s assessment. That’s why she’s so cheap. You know that. You can see her now and that’s all you get. It’s exactly what you asked for. Do we have a deal?”

There was a pause and hope surged up inside me. Maybe I’d be let go if no one wants me.

“Good. Transfer the money while I get her packaged up.”

She leaves, blowing me a kiss as she walks past.

A while later four more of her people come and remove me from the tube. I try to talk to them, to plead, to fight but nothing works. Everyone ignores me as they efficiently insert a ball gag in my mouth and walk me out and into the back of a van. They place me in a bag so tight I can’t straighten my legs. Only my head is outside the bag. They remove the collar. The bag is tied to some tying points so I can’t even creep around.

Once they’re satisfied, they turn and leave. There’s not a word said during this activity. That’s scary in itself. They close the door and I’m left there, in the dark with only my heavily beating heart for company.

The van starts up.


I keep the cameras rolling as she’s led out, resisting all the while, as I know Zac will appreciate it.

“Now Zac, I do have more for you.”

“What do you mean, more? I only buy to order. You know that.”

“Ah, but this is special, Zac.” I make sure the cameras record the next one being brought in and placed in the tube. My staff are well trained and can cope with the unexpected magnificently. That will capture his attention for sure.

“Very nice, Heather. But I’ve no use for her.”

That’s said in the tone of finality I don’t like, so I decide to sweeten the deal. After all, all my expenses and profit are covered with the sale of Heaven, so these two are pure additional profit.

I smile, to let that enter my voice. “OK, Zac. Let me have one more try.”

Zac watches as the second one is brought in and held by her arms. There’s only one tube in here.

“I’ll let you have them both for the price of one, Zac. That’s a deal you can’t refuse.”

There is a pause before Zac answerers. “I don’t know, Heather. What’ll I do with them? I don’t have the storage facilities. You know that.”

“Oh come on Zac. I know you’re better than that. I bet you know a few pimps who’ll be glad of them. All you have to do is call around and they’ll be sold before they get to your place. All you’ll have to do is redirect the courier.”

“Get her out of that tube and give me a few minutes.” The line goes dead. I nod to no one in particular and watch as she’s removed from the tube. I realise what he wants then. He doesn’t want any pimp to know where he gets his merchandise from. I’m pleased at that. I don’t want the likes of pimps thinking I can supply them with bitches. This is a special deal only. I certainly won’t go into the mass market like that. I know how fast the pimps go through their bitches. I’m certain the bitches know that when they join as well and I always wonder why they do it.

When he comes back on they are standing with their feet tied to floor rings. The ball gags are still there.

“I’m sorry, Heather,” my heart drops. I don’t like just disposing of stock. It’s such a waste. “But I can only offer three hundred dollars for the pair. And that means delivery within the hour. He has to get them ready for tonight.”

“Three hundred?”

“Heather, I know you’re trying to offload them for some reason, but that’s the best I can do right now. I’m taking no profit from this either. This is a favour to you.”

That makes me so happy. “Why thank you Zac. You’re a true friend. But you must have some sort of profit. Even if it’s a pittance. You can have them gratis.”

“Oh no, Heather. The same applies to you as well. Let’s split the difference. One hundred and fifty dollars for them both. That way we both get something to go towards a night out.”

I well up and dab my eyes. He’s a beautiful man. “Thank you so much Zac. I appreciate this, I really do. You’re a true friend. Give me the delivery address and I’ll send them there right away.”


I don’t put up much of a fight. Certainly not as much as my comrades in adversity. But it does them no good. It’s not that I don’t try. It’s my age, sixty, and the beginnings of osteoporosis that prevents me. As it is, I end up painfully bent over in a cage. My three companions are all in their own cages. I try to get out when we’re left alone but it’s too strong for me, or my companions.

After getting my emotions in check, I ask, “Does anyone know what’s going on?”

“No idea. But the staff are all in on it. Don’t expect any help from them.”

My colleague, Heather, pipes up with, “Did you notice the organisation? They’re set up for this. I bet they’ve done this before. Why has nobody noticed it?”

“Are the police in on it?”

“I don’t know. I’m Heather Ewing by the way.”

“Heather Badura,” replied my colleague.

“Heather Higgins,” said the blond one.

“Raychel Pope,” said the last.

“Raychel?” I query. “We had at least a connection with the Heathers. Do you know why you’re here Raychel?”

“My middle name is Heather, but I never use it.”

“There you are then. That’s the connection,” I say while I wonder if my health problems would get me an exemption from all this. I don’t have to wait long as that Heather enters.

She smiles when she sees us.

“Not ideal viewing, but we must make do with what we have. Mia did a great job.” She says to us generally.

She sits and stares at us for a long while. Nobody wants to talk until, finally, I break the silence.

“What’s happening? Why’ve you done this to us?”

She cocks her head and stares at me for a while. Then she slowly reaches down and picks up her phone, presses a few buttons and a massive pain hits my neck. I scream and tried to rip the collar off. The pain stops as suddenly as it started. When I can look, she is staring directly at me, daring me to say something else. I don’t.

She continues staring at us. The pain in my back is excruciating, but I keep silent. She scares me, and not just because of what she’s done to us. There’s something about her that’s frightening. She’s so sure of herself.

She continues to stare at us until, eventually, her hand drifts down between her legs and, oh so slowly, she starts rubbing herself. That scares me even more.

Eventually, after what seems hours, her phone vibrates. I can hear it from here. She looks annoyed, but checks it anyway. The message she reads seems to rouse her. All of a sudden, she has energy, manic energy. She stands and leaves.


I walk up to the restaurant in a last minute decision. My work has finished earlier than I thought and I’ve some free time. So I decide to eat. I’ve heard good things about the food here, plus that their prices were high for what it appears to be on the outside but not high enough for the quality of the food and service.

On entering I’m immediately greeted by a smartly dressed woman.

“Hello. I’m Lylia Farrell.”

“Heather Burn.” Saying my name was automatic and I realise straight away she had left that pause deliberately. No doubt to create an air of friendliness and, perhaps, intimacy. I wonder if it works. Were they trying this out or was it established routine? These idle questions automatically flip through my mind.

Lylia looks at the laptop I’m carrying.

“Are you wanting to work as well as eat?”

“I may do. It depends.”

“Follow me.”

She leads me through the room, past a number of empty tables, to a place on the wall near the back. It’s a semi private booth set into a large tube coming down from the ceiling. It’s surprisingly cosy in there.

She hands me the menu saying, “Do you want to peruse this or do you want to order now?”

I open and scan the menu. As I thought, the options are limited. “I’ll have the Beef Wellington and a glass of water, please.”

“Certainly. Now, we find a lot of our patrons are in a hurry. So we can take payment now if you so desire. And we can include the sweet if you want one as well. That way, you can leave whenever you like.” She looks at my laptop case. “But if you want to work for a while after your meal, that’s fine too. This is a slack time for us, so there’s no problem if you want to stay here an hour or two. As you see, it’s private. Oh, and by the way, that button behind you,” she points it out, “will summon a waiter.” Before I can reply she adds a rider. “And we don’t accept tips here. None at all.”

“Thank you so much. I’ll stay for a while after my meal.”

She smiles and leaves. I sit back and think. It’s early evening on a Friday and my weekend workload is surprisingly light because of the case I’d just unexpectedly completed—our opponent suddenly caved. I had expected to work on finalising that all weekend. What to do? I had already decided to relax and enjoy the meal properly.

Relaxing into the, surprisingly comfortable, seat, I smile to myself. It’s a foregone conclusion under these circumstances. This weekend, I’ll work out exactly what I’ll do to Elizabeth. I’m growing very fond of her and want her visit to be special. We’ve been seeing each other for over a year now and she’s developed trust in me, as I in her. This looks like the beginning of a long term friendship, so I’m determined to give her exactly what she needs.

So, while I wait for my meal, I open my laptop and type in what Elizabeth, she hates to be called that, has already experienced: spankings (not canings), bondage, specifically silk rope bondage and sexual teasing: obedience training, humiliation up to a certain level and hypnotism, which was ongoing.

The hypnotism always interests me. I took a course in college and seemed to be naturally good at it and I’ve practised it ever since. After college I took and gained a certificate in clinical hypnosis in the spare time I didn’t have (I was busy developing my legal career). I’ve expanded that experience into the field of erotic hypnosis which complements my dominatrix proclivities, which I developed off my own research.

Elizabeth was interested in the hypnosis right from the start. After she had experienced it for a couple of sessions, we developed a programme of weekly sessions over the Internet. I’m extremely pleased with the result. She enjoys the experience of losing herself in those sessions while I enjoy the experience of influencing her over an extended time period.

At the beginning, she was socially timid and a bit of a loner, which she didn’t mind. It just wasn’t important to her. Now, after my sessions, for which I had her permission by the way, she’s changing. She now dresses more feminine. I won’t say more provocatively because to most people she didn’t, but, based on her norms before we started this programme, she’s definitely more outgoing. For instance, her work clothes haven’t changed much. She used to wear standard female pants suits as did most women where she works. Now though, she wears standard skirt suits. Nothing outrageous either. None of the silly micro mini skirts and deep cleavage beloved of the section of the literary industry that deals with such things. But, she now wears garter belts and stockings, along with expensive and sexy matching underwear. She also wears heels instead of flats and I’m going to get them higher before long.

I remember my crowning achievement so far. It was just last month and I had taken her out for a midday meal, just an ordinary get together between friends who had the same time available. In the middle of the meal I told her to go to the restroom, remove her panties and give them to me. She froze, staring at me. “Now,” I told her. Not in an authoritarian tone, just in a gentle, no nonsense way. That seemed to kickstart her. She jerked herself to her feet, turned and walked towards the restroom, returning with her panties crumpled and hidden in her hand as she had forgotten to take her bag. She handed the panties to me as surreptitiously as possible. I looked at the proffered item, removed a transparent plastic bag from my bag and held it open for her and she dropped them into it. I was immensely pleased at how red she went. She was visibly embarrassed when she returned to the table, but that was as nothing to this. I said nothing, but slowly closed the bag without making any effort to hide the panties from anyone.

Of course, no one noticed, or, if they did, they made no comment about it. But that wasn’t the point. Elizabeth had obeyed a simple, nonthreatening command and believed everyone around them saw it for what it was.

All in all, I’m pleased with her progress. At the beginning, I insisted she wrote a diary detailing her daily fantasies, which, she assures me she’s kept up. She doesn’t have permission to read it again after each entry’s made. I intend to have a weekend session with her at my apartment sometime in the next year and get her to read it from the beginning in order to watch her reactions.

She’s developed a fixation on a certain red lipstick I sometimes use, along with the matching red nail polish, so my first decision is made. I will wear them again for our session, which will be a long one, a couple of days as hypnotism takes time. This is the second decision. This means we have to coordinate our calendars carefully. We are both busy people.

My meal arrives and I close my laptop to focus my mind on enjoying it. I find I’m rare in this regard. I have the ability to drop a subject from my mind in order to focus on what I have to do now. I’m glad I did. The meal’s delicious. I decide to visit here whenever I’m in the vicinity.

After finishing it and half the glass of water, I press the buzzer. I’ve decided to treat myself to a rare sweet. Lylia enters quickly, takes my order and leaves.

As soon as she leaves, another lady enters and introduces herself as Heather, the owner of this restaurant.