The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

There was a stiff leather collar around Ellie’s neck. A large metal cowbell hung from it, and engraved on the cowbell was her new name—“Princess”.

Once upon a time, she had been a real princess—pretty, cultured, and regal. But when she had foolishly offended a powerful witch by calling her a “cow”, the witch had placed a curse on Ellie. Now it was Ellie who was the cow. Her breasts had grown to prodigious size, and produced a full bucket of milk every day. Along with that came an overwhelming need to be “useful”—regardless of whether being useful meant being a good ruler, or simply producing milk and helping men to orgasm.

Once each of her breasts had grown to a size somewhat larger than her head, they had finally stopped expanding, which was a small blessing, but in the meantime her traitorous court sorcerer Erlanthor had sold her as a “bride” to the Regent of the nearby kingdom of Dellmore. She had been fitted with the collar she now wore—a collar which choked her if she tried to make any sound other than a cow-like “mooo”, for women did not talk in Dellmore—and been packed off to the Regent’s homeland, bound and naked, to join his curated herd of other cow-women.

Now her home was a stall in a hay-filled barn adjoining the regent’s palace. She was kept nude, but for a few small accessories. On her hands were locked restrictive gloves that prevented her from holding or manipulating things. On her head she had a cow-ear headband, and in her ass was a cow-tail butt-plug that she had to moo loudly to have removed when she wanted to toilet. 13-inch stripper heels were locked to her feet. She literally couldn’t stand in them, which forced her to crawl on all fours. And she wore a collection of straps that would be much like panties if they had covered any of her body. They ran around her waist, and between her legs, but instead of hiding her pussy, they instead pulled her pussy lips wide open with painful clips, keeping her fucktunnel exposed to the world.

She was part of the Regent’s collection. Each item in the collection had once been a proud, rich, powerful, or particularly pure or beautiful woman. Now they were cows, for the Regent to rape, impregnate, and show off to his guests.

In the next stall was Queen, a mature buxom brunette heifer. She had once been Queen Iselma of Dellmore, the first and only wife of late King Horrus, and she had been an outspoken feminist who had fought hard to reform her misogynistic nation—even going so far as to speak in public, an act which for any other woman would be treason, but which her status had shielded her from.

But when King Horrus had died in a hunting accident, the Royal Council had appointed the Regent to rule in her name—because no woman could be allowed to exercise power in Dellmore. When Queen Iselma had tried to defy the Regent, the Regent had authorised a “re-education program” for the Queen—a program which had involved stripping her naked, caging her in the market square of the capital, and publicly conditioning her to her new role as a lactating rape-cow in full view of her subjects. She had been raped and beaten and had her tits sucked on every day, as her people watched, until she learned to crawl and moo and began to lactate, until finally she had been declared “cured” and moved to the Regent’s barn.

On festival days, lucky commoners won tickets to visit the Queen and rape her.

Down the far end of the barn was the gorgeous brown-haired cow Pretty—formerly Darmelia the Pretty, Princess of Dellmore. She was Iselma’s daughter, and heir to the kingdom—or rather, whichever man she married would be heir. With the Queen unable to perform her duties as ruler (now that she was a cow) the Regent technically ruled in Darmelia’s name.

However, on Darmelia’s 18th birthday, the Regent had forced her to make a surprise announcement to the nation.

“I have come to the decision,” she had said, in a halting, humiliated voice, “that I love my mother the Queen so much that I would rather join her in a new life as a rape-cow than rule over the kingdom.”

And then the Queen had been led out on a leash, and Darmelia had stripped and licked her own mother’s pussy and sucked milk from her own mother’s tits in front of the entire court, to reinforce what she had said, before being led off, naked and on all fours, to join her mother in the Regent’s barn, under the new name of “Pretty”.

Despite all the Regent’s coercion, Pretty had not yet agreed to marry the Regent, and formally make him king. Instead she accepted the range of tortures he put her through—including publicly fucking her mother twice weekly—holding onto that one last shred of defiance. So the Regent had resorted to a fallback plan—impregnating her. If she bore his child, she would be bound to marry him under law. However, despite raping her daily for a year now, she had not yet fallen pregnant, even though his magics told her that she was fertile.

Across the barn was Daisy, who had once been the beautiful red-haired Majestrix Leandra of Sype, a fierce warrior who headed a legion of proud female soldiers. When the Regent had invaded Sype, he had met with Leandra over dinner to discuss the possibility of Sypian surrender. Leandra told him to go to hell—but then the Regent revealed that the drink she had just consumed contained his sperm, and was ensorcelled as well. Soon she would find herself addicted to his sperm, willing to do anything to receive more, and unable to oppose him in any way.

She had cursed and sworn and tried to attack him—but found herself unable to lift a weapon against him. By the same time the next day she was crying in desperation, begging him to cum in her mouth. Instead, he sent her back to betray her own people, and she did it eagerly.

Now Leandra lived in the Regent’s barn, hating him with every fibre of her being, and yet careful to be a pleasing and productive cow out of fear that she might not receive her daily dose of his cum. She was called “Daisy” after the yellow flower that had once been the symbol of her nation.

Her soldiers, once the terror of the continent, had been renamed the “Sypian Rape Corps”. They were deployed, nude, to Dellmore’s borders, to service the sexual needs of the nation’s male soldiers. Many were trained as human ponies, to pull the chariots and wagons of the army, or as hunting bitches, whose job was to hunt and capture other women for discipline and rape. All of them knew who had betrayed them. When a member of the Rape Corps showed exceptional loyalty to her new place as an animal in Dellmore’s service, she was sometimes brought to the barn and given an hour to express her anger at her former ruler by sexually abusing her as the Regent watched.

And on the other side of the barn was Princess Silly-Tits. She had once been Sylvia Rin, an academic at the Dellmore University, and had written several books on the oppression of women in the nation, and the rights that they should fight for.

The Regent had used his own personal magics to work a special curse on Sylvia—after invading her home and raping her, to inject her with his curse-bearing semen. From then on, each time she betrayed her feminist principles, her tits would grow larger and produce more milk, and she would be forced to publicly explain exactly what betrayal she had engaged in. She would be unable to milk her own tits in any way and would require the help of a male—but she would only ever be as intelligent as the amount of milk currently in her tits.

It only took her four days to publish a public essay entitled, “I Masturbated While Thinking About My Own Rape”, and two after that to publish another one called, “I Orgasmed When I Realised That No One Would Ever Take Me Seriously As A Feminist Again”. And then a week after that she published, “I’m Pregnant With The Regent’s Rape-Baby, and Finding Out Made Me Cum”.

After that, her pregnancy compelled her to marry the Regent by law—one of his many wives—and when she spoke the words “I do” at the ceremony—nude and masturbating—they were the last intelligible words she ever spoke. The Regent placed the collar on her that would choke her if she made any sound other than a moo, and she took her place in his barn.

Every day, her intelligence returned to her as her tits filled with milk—until the pain of her swollen tits made her moo to be milked, and Princess got to watch as the intelligence drained out of her again with every squeeze of her tits, until the cow that had once been Sylvia was nothing but a silly bimbo eager to suck the cock of her handler as thanks for being milked.

There were other cows, but Princess had not yet learned their stories. It was hard to learn much from a woman when all she could say was “moo”.

Princess Ellie was milked daily, and raped daily, and she thought she would soon be pregnant with the Regent’s baby. But the Regent had also given her an additional task—a task that she hated, that she didn’t want to take part in—but her cursed compulsion to be “useful” made her agree, and do her best to fulfil it.

Her task was this—every day, she was placed in the same stall as Pretty—the cow who had once been Princess Darmelia. And Ellie was required to rape Pretty—to make her cum, or have Pretty make Princess cum. And then—most importantly—she had to force the defeated Pretty to suck milk from her tits.

Because the curse that had made Ellie into a cow had a special quality. It enchanted her milk. And any woman who drank her milk would become more submissive, more stupid, more lustful, and produce more milk herself.

Pretty didn’t know this. She merely knew she was being raped by another human cow each day. But Ellie could see the girl becoming more passive after each raping, more easy to subdue, and more and more often orgasming quickly and easily from her abuse.

(Ellie found it easy to orgasm from the task too. The Regent never let her cum when he raped her, and her restrictive gloves stopped her from masturbating, so Pretty’s mouth was the only way that Princess could reach orgasm.)

And eventually Pretty would be so stupid, submissive and horny that she would want to be raped—would be desperate to be raped. And when that day came, Ellie was to refuse to rape her—refuse, that is, until she agreed to finally marry the Regent.

Ellie hated the task especially because she thought she might be falling in love with Princess Darmelia. Her daily raping of the girl was the closest thing to affection that she received, and she had come to feel deep pleasure from having the defeated girl suck on her tits afterwards, and then cuddle with her on the hay that covered the floor. The girls could only communicate in moos, but Ellie thought Pretty’s moos sometimes sounded loving. She wondered what might have been if the two girls had met when they were both human princesses instead of rape-cows.

But that wouldn’t stop her being useful—and therefore it wouldn’t stop her betraying Pretty. And it wouldn’t stop her communicating the secrets she had discovered to the Regent, if only she could work out how—secrets such as the fact that one of the boys who cleaned the barn had fallen in love with Pretty himself, and had been feeding her birth control medication in return for the occasional surreptitious blowjob.

She hoped she could work out how to tell the Regent, because she actually thought Pretty would look even more attractive with a big pregnant belly, and besides, Pretty was most beautiful when she was crying….

(END)