The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The coach was the colour of dreams and it shone under the red moonlight like steel out of a forge. It was all metal and rubber, with chains of gold holding spheres spilling from its many corners. Flags with emblems many feared waving in the wind as it rolled down a cobblestone road. The wheels had spikes that dug and broke into the stone. Inside this coach was a lady, for her dress was of someone in the position of lady. As befit someone of her station, a cowl of latex covered her features, replacing eyebrows and lips with ruby beads encrusted into the material; her eyes hidden behind twin screens of black; her hair spilling in a tight ponytail. A bodysuit like a leotard covered her body, with wire-like lines moving around and around her waist, giving the illusion of a spring. Her breasts were cupped by beads in the shape of hands. Her legs and arms were encased in long latex, similar wire-like lines mimicking the tendons under her skin. And her hips were kissed spirals that spilled down onto her legs.

Before the lady were three shapes, two were female drones, featureless and mindless. Between them sat a male. The drones each held a metal bar with the hand that didn’t touch the male’s body. The bars were straight lines connected to a thick, cylindrical collar around his neck. Chains spilled from his collar, holding his hands, encased in spheres of metal, tightly against his chest. The rest of his body was covered by a similar material, but instead of being uniform in colour, waves and stars danced on his latex skin.

Things that were both familiar and strange pulled the coach forwards their hooves, toes and sand-like extremities making the coach break more stone underneath. The lady gazed out the window, seeing a landscape of human bodies that believed they were trees and rocks. The landscape passes by, changing, morphing. Time moves and the coach keeps going until it stops before a clearing, a pond of clear water draining into a stream. The lady comes out of her coach, her figure a mighty one. With a wave of the hand her drones tow the slave out of the carriage, their three heads hung low in submission. The girls are silent, and the male is whispering something.

She nods at the trio and then turns to whistling in her pleasure-language. She sings a song that makes all the trees and all the rocks shift as if alive. They stand and move, walking towards her in orderly lines as if a marching army of mindless pleasure. Soon they reach their mistress and kneel before her, waiting, their bodies shaking with need.

The latex lady stood, legs parted, her sex pushed forwards. She told the thousand of latex human-creatures to walk, one by one, and kiss her sex, deeply. They formed a long, long line and, one by one, walked forth, knelt, and kissed the sweetness between her legs. The moonlight turned from red to purple to pink to white and then red again. When the last of the shapes kissed her, the lady had her drones and personal slave kneel parallel to her and ordered them to kiss.

She was rocking in place, her every cell screaming in ecstasy.

She pressed her drones tight against her latex flesh, pushing them inside her, into her body. They sank into her latex skin, easily becoming one with her. Everyone has submission and dominion inside them. The latex lady was closer to being complete. Moaning loudly, her synthethic skin glisstening with sweat, she sang a song for the male slave. He sang along, melting into a puddle of pleasure. The lady drank what was left of his body, and was finally whole.

Valeria woke on her bed, naked and with a slight headache. Did I drink last night? Was her first thought as the world spun around her as she got to her feet. The coldness that shot through her soles was enough to clear her mind. She blinked and shivered before looking down. Valeria frowned at the sight of her toes. “Where are my boots?” She said out loud, stretching her legs. Valeria had not slept without her ballet heels in a very long time and feeling the floor with her bare toes was a bit alien. Her feet were as pale as her skin could be, spots of white where her legs were cinnamon. She wanted her boots.

She didn’t remember anything about last night, let alone how she had ended up in bed. She looked down at her naked body and frowned. Valeria didn’t sleep in the flesh. She hadn’t done so in years. Where’s my outfit? My pajama? She thought, looking about her room. Had those sex toys always been there, by the bookshelf? And the chains dangling from the ceiling, had they always been there? Valeria shook her head, confused. She remembered a simple room without any decoration whatsoever, but the same image she was seeing was there, sharing memory space. Had they changed after she came back from Finland? No, that couldn’t be. She had just been back a month, and she had not brought any of her sex toys from the European country. She must’ve bought all these toys, then. And the chains. And the vaccum bed. No, that wasn’t right either; she hadn’t found a decent sex shop yet.

Valeria decided to ignore the questions, lest a headache turn into a migraine.

She took a quick shower and then stood before her wardrobe. She stared at the several, several outfits; deliberating. She had so many to choose from, all beautiful, all erotic, all so very tight. It took her time – Valeria always took her time chosing her uniform for the day – but she finally settled for something simple. Her outfit was like that of her latest dream if not exactly the same. She loved the feel of latex against her skin, how it clung and squeaked with every move. Her face turned red, flushed as her entire body increased in temperature. She felt delicious, on fire, like the perfect kiss. Her hood kept her face hidden, but it didn’t matter. She was Latexia, and Latexia had no face but latex.

Wait… no…? Latexia shook her head. She steadied herself against a wall, feeling suddenly dizzy and confused. Why did she feel so confused? Shouldn’t she be wearing something less… perfect? Yes, she could remember not liking tightness. Wouldn’t comfy clothes be more appropiate, seeing how she lived in the tropics? No, it didn’t make sense. Latexia loved latex and all things fetish. And she was a Domme – a powerful Domme. She had to dress the part. Why would she wear anything else?

Latexia stared at her reflection in a mirror and felt a heat grow between her legs. It was a sign that she had chosen correctly.

Some time later she descended the stairs, bumping into her father. The man was in a very girly pink dress and could’ve passed for a woman. He gave Latexia a curt nod, and whispered something – some powerful words in her ear – before making his way into his studio. “Be nice, Latexia.” He whispered under his breath and left.

Latexia stood there, loins overflowing with desire, hands hanging limp at her side. Her lips moved, whispering something in a tone so low that not even her could know what it was.

The doubts she had felt some minutes ago were no more.

She shook her head. Where was I? She thought and then kept walking.

She descended the stairs feeling the artificial coldness of the house on her second skin. It made her feel alive. Every step she took sent a thrill through her body, yet again she felt strange: she could swear that thrill felt like a fresh experience, but had she not done this, walking down the stairs dressed in her usual Domme outfit, for years?

Dum da dum, Valeria heard the echo of her favourite song and it was the final time she thought about the strangeness of her situation.

She walked into the living room, like all mornings, and saw her mother kneeling on the latex-covered floor, her forehead touching the floor. Maria was dressed in three layers of latex; one replacing her skin, the second being her lingerie, and the third being the items replacing her hands for thick balls of latex.

“What are you doing, slave?” Latexia meant to say mother, but her lips moved on their own. She didn’t even realise her mistake.

“Awaiting your orders, Mistress Latexia,” Maria whispered in a submissive tone, “I’ve dressed like you ordered and now I humbly ask you to use this slave’s body.”

“Ordered? What…” Latexia suddenly felt dizzy, a throbbing on her head conflicting with the throbbing in her sex, “Sla… mother,” She corrected herself, “What are you talking about? I didn’t order you… did I?”

“Yes you did, Mistress Latexia,” Maria said, a smile hidden behind her hood, “Today I was to meet you like this. You said so: ‘moaning latex.’”

Latexia felt woozy all of a sudden. She closed her eyes and took a deep, deep breath, feeling all her worry and confusion wash out of her when she exhaled. She opened her eyes and saw through a tiny slit in the rubber. She saw her mother – the slave, but not her slave.

“I did.” Latexia said, her voice sure. “I am pleased with you, slave.”

Maria shuddered happily. “I am glad, my Mistress. How may this slave serve you?”

Latexia sat on the chair her mother had used days before; she crossed her legs, loving how the swish sound of nylon on nylon. I put on nylons? Latexia thought. God, I no longer even realise that I put them on. I just do! She smiled. “Bring me a cup of tea, slave,” Latexia said, “Maybe then I’ll order you around.”

Maria stood and bowed, “Yes, Mistress. As you command, Mistress.” She hurried, as best as she could, towards the kitchen.

Moments later Maria returned, her head still bowed, and handed her daughter a steaming, white cup with her ball-shaped hands. Latexia took a tentatively sip from the white cup and then put it down on the floor, she stared at her mother. Suddenly she felt sad and lonely. The woman before her was a slave, yes, but not her slave. Maria was her mother and her father’s slave. Did she even have a slave?

Yes. Came the answer. From where or who said it, it didn’t matter.

Suddenly Latexia knew what to do. She stood and walked out of the room, leaving her mother kneeling on the floor, a devious smile on her lips.

Latexia walked into the playroom, looking fondly at the many contraptions. Vanessa squirmed under that one, she remembered as she passed what once had been a work-out machine. Her breathing started to increase, her arousal escalating; Latexia was nervous, excited. Just beyond these doors was her slave. She didn’t know how she knew it, didn’t even understood how she knew she had a slave. But she didn’t care. Latexia’s true slave was so close. Fetishdoll, was his name and it sounded perfect.

The door opened with a click and Latexia smiled broadly. The room was flooded with light, and at the same time something moaned loudly. There was a bed inside, and on it lay her brother, her slave, tied in spread eagly position. Fetishdoll was naked, with the collar the colour of wine around his neck the only indication of his duty in life. Latexia stood at the door for a long while, simply drinking the scene with eyes and nose. He looked perfect and smelled perfect.

She walked into the room, running her gloved hand over his leg and then hands. He gasped, but kept quiet. Fetishdoll looked to have been prepared for this, prepared for Latexia. Her fingers teased his skin, his manhood, his lips and his ears. She pressed her covered features against his face, and almost squealed when he moaned her name in such a submissive tone. After hours of teasing him, of keeping him just over the edge, Latexia crawled onto the bed. She kneeled on top of Fetishdoll, her tightly covered sex rubbing against his wood, her hands caressing the skin on his toned chest.

“Time to obey your Mistress, Fetishdoll.” Latexia whispered and then got to work.

Fetishdoll screamed in desire.

Valeria was in a park, playing with a puppy she hadn’t seen for ten years. She threw a ball, and the dog went to fetch it. She smiled, and looked to the sky. It was made of candy, and in that moment she realised she was in a dream. A river was flowing somewhere to the right, and her grandparents played chess nearby. It was a normal dream.