The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Catherine

Standing atop the mess hall table, I slowly circled the pole, making my every movement as graceful and sensual as possible. The men gathered below me stroked their bulging erections with an almost violent energy. Their joy and lust was plain to see, as their eyes roamed across every inch of my body; only my most private parts were shielded from their gaze.

One man had appeared to be on the verge of climax for some time, but was apparently having trouble finishing. I bent over and shook my chest in front of his face, feeling a rush of amusement when he exploded a moment later. I winked at him as I stood back to my full height before blowing the whole crowd a seductive kiss.

The motions were coming more and more easily to me lately. Since its implementation, crew-wide sexual processing has been overwhelmingly popular, beyond even my wildest expectations. While the role always entailed some degree of embarrassment, it was eclipsed by personal pride and satisfaction. It is the foremost duty of a leader to ensure the well-being of her subordinates, after all. It was a rare feeling, but this was one of the few times in my career that I was thankful to be born a woman. I was able to directly improve the mental health of my men, easing their stress and libido with nothing but my body.

The men around me continued to cum as I danced. At least twenty different men had already orgasmed watching me tonight, some multiple times. That was a typical number; I was hands-down the most popular crew-wide sexual processor, likely due to my position as captain of the Athens.

Eventually, the designated hour for crew-wide processing was over. I and my fellow processors, now alone in the mess hall, stepped down off the tables onto the slightly sticky floors. (Fortunately, we had an automated janitorial staff to deal with the mess.)

I turned to Lieutenant Gonzalez. As usual, she wore a bright red thong and nipple tassels, nicely complementing her dark skin. Gonzalez was quite the popular processor herself. She was the youngest of us, with a modest but perky bust and shapely rear. To her credit, she had not once objected to participating in crew-wide processing. In fact, none of these women had. I had a deep respect for all of them as a result.

“Lieutenant, meet me in my quarters in one hour. I’d like your opinion on new wartime intel from HQ.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She saluted firmly, inadvertently smearing a small drop of semen resting on her forehead.

“Excellent. All of you, dismissed.”

At my order, the sexual processors of the Athens dispersed. Most would return to their chambers and retire for the night. However, a few—myself included—had additional processor duties to complete.

Cooper invariably required individual attention. He only occasionally attended crew-wide processing, and never masturbated even when he did. He frustrated me immensely; it wasn’t in the spirit of sexual processing to just “enjoy the show” without actually “participating”. Not that I’d expect any better from a degenerate like him. At every turn, Cooper was nothing but difficult and disrespectful.

Regardless, the bottom line did not change: I personally had to make Anthony Cooper orgasm every day. Thankfully, we had at least managed to arrive at a mutual understanding as of late, one which made his sexual processing sessions mercifully short.

Per our arrangement, I first headed towards the ship’s matter generators. Once there, I pulled up a terminal and accessed my personal account. At the top of my inbox was an extremely brief message from Anthony Cooper.

“Attire #958C. The usual.”

That was the entirety of the message. No greeting, no sign-off. Typical etiquette, or lack thereof.

Closing the terminal, I punched “958C” into the closest matter generator. Within seconds, it had synthesized an entire adult-sized set of clothing. I held up the garment in front of me, rolling my eyes as soon as I realized what it was. Still, I grabbed the outfit without a word and ducked into a nearby restroom.

In the relative privacy of a stall, I exchanged my racy crew-wide processing uniform for Attire #958C. Pausing in front of the mirror to inspect my appearance, I saw a severe-looking bespectacled woman in a cow print bikini staring back at me, complete with a collar and bell. The bikini was perhaps one size too small, clinging tightly to my hips and chest. In particular, my breasts strained against the thin fabric, to the point that I was concerned they may slip out with any kind of rapid movement.

It was a ridiculous costume, lacking in any dignity whatsoever—which meant it was perfect for Cooper’s sexual processing.

I confidently strode out of the restroom, heading directly for the Chief Engineer’s quarters. I felt the eyes of my crew upon me as I passed through the halls, reacting to my presence and provocative clothing, but each of them quickly returned to their business. My nightly responsibilities as a sexual processor were well understood by all.

Cooper’s door approached. Knowing I was expected, I entered without even slowing.

“Evening, Catherine. You’re looking especially sexy tonight.”

Cooper sat—naked—on a chair near the center of the room. He was smiling widely, already at full mast. I shot Cooper a lascivious smile in return, advancing toward him and kneeling down in one smooth, elegant motion. The tips of my fingers traced his legs as I crouched lower and lower, stopping once I was eye level with his cock. The cowbell around my neck dinged softly with the movement.

“Mm… thank you, sir,” I purred in a steamy, feminine voice. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

“Have you? Really?” Cooper responded in mock surprise.

“Yes, sir… really…” I insisted, my hands finding their way to his manhood. He groaned slightly as I gently massaged his shaft and balls. I almost smirked at how easy this all was, but kept my face the picture of sexuality.

My left hand snaked down to my own crotch, sliding under my panties until my fingers found my clit and pussy. I grew quite wet in a matter of seconds; my body and mind were already familiar with this situation, and personal arousal was just another tool of an effective sexual processor.

I leaned towards the tip of his penis, mouth open wide—but Cooper stopped me with a hand on my forehead. “Whoa-ho. Someone’s eager. What do you think you’re doing, Catherine?” He playfully chastised me.

Fingering myself with one hand and still stroking Cooper’s cock with the other, I looked up at him with my best approximation of a pleading, pathetic expression. Channeling my body’s genuine arousal to color my words, I “begged” him, “Please, sir… let me do it.”

“Do what?”

“Let me suck your cock, sir, please. I want it so bad… I can’t live without your cock.” The words were false, but I’d gotten good at making them sound real. I’d said some variation on them almost every night this week.

“Well, if you want it that bad…” He moved his hand. “Go ahead.”

Before he had even finished speaking, I was voraciously fellating the Chief Engineer. The cowbell rang loudly with my enthusiastic head motions, but I barely heard it. I was concentrating on the sensation of Cooper’s penis within my mouth, the subtle tells and twitches that let me know I was doing a good job.

My hands moved to my chest. As expected, my tits easily popped out of the bikini top and I immediately went to work, energetically rubbing and squeezing. This was mainly done to further stimulate Cooper, but my breasts had always been sensitive and I didn’t resist the pleasure. The better I feel, the more it’ll turn him on.

As if to reinforce that thought, Cooper moaned loudly. More and more of his precum filled my mouth. I didn’t let up. I took his cock as deep as I could, feeling it slide past my tongue into my throat as my lips—with nowhere else to go—kissed his testicles. All the while, I groped my boobs even more aggressively, doing my best to place their nipples in Cooper’s line of vision. I knew he was close.

Mere moments later, true to my prediction, he came.

As always, Cooper’s semen tasted unusually pleasant, but I barely registered swallowing. Instead, I stole a furtive glance at the room’s clock—and internally rejoiced. It had been just over two minutes since I entered Cooper’s quarters. From start to finish, I processed him in only 120 seconds. It was a new record.

My mind flashed back to the first night I had given Cooper oral sex. When he’d first told me to “suck his cock”, I was stunned. I nearly wrote him up for a court-martial. A sexual processor was not a servant to satisfy one’s every sexual whim.

However, I then considered the broader ramifications. On the surface, it may appear as though I was submitting to Cooper’s will, but the truth was the reverse. With just a little roleplay, Cooper was like putty in my hands. His favorite fantasy (“the usual”) was a personal sex slave, a submissive and obedient woman who was eager to please. By acting out these fantasies and going along with Cooper’s desires, I was truly the one in control. I dictated the pace of sexual processing. I had him by the balls—literally. What once took twenty minutes was now taking two.

Would some find these actions degrading? Of course. Would I ever inform my husband of the full details of Cooper’s sexual processing? Likely not. However, at the end of the day, the most important thing was making Anthony Cooper cum.

Samantha

The slightly cool air felt good against my skin as I ran around the track. I was thankful for the design of our female jumpsuits; they were extremely breathable, only covering roughly half of one’s body. The wearer’s thighs, upper arms, and midriff were completely exposed, and there were large heart-shaped openings at the chest and crotch. The latter opening extended to include the anus, and was especially convenient for both restroom use and semen extraction. While the bright pink color scheme and feminine design of the jumpsuit would not have been my personal preference, I had functionally little to complain about.

A male footsoldier, Private Rhodes, politely nodded as I passed him on the track. As it happens, Rhodes’ semen currently churned in my gut. Only a few minutes prior, I had the Private squirming underfoot, my toes pressing deeply into his penis. While it was not extremely common, some men preferred a submissive experience for semen extraction. Rhodes was not the first comrade to request I use my feet, and I doubted he would be the last.

A short time later, I completed my morning run. Just outside the training room, a muscular man had an equally muscular woman bent over on the floor, his erect penis thrusting in and out of her vagina. (Naturally, he was wearing a condom.) It was a typical display of semen extraction, the kind you could see anywhere on the Athens. Perhaps the woman was about to use the track and required a supplement.

Walking past the couple, my mind turned to the day ahead. I had no particular tasks scheduled for today; the Unified Nations made sure to give its soldiers ample rest. Therefore, I decided to investigate a concern my sister had raised to me some time ago. Catherine had spoken of a vague “sense of apprehension”, and I’d promised to stay alert for anything unusual aboard the Athens. While I still had not personally witnessed anything out of the ordinary since our conversation, Catherine’s sincerity at the time had stuck with me. She would not have asked unless she were truly unsettled, even if the root of her feelings eluded the both of us.

Catherine’s intuition has saved my life more than once. I trusted her wholeheartedly, and it was my foremost duty to eliminate any possible threat to her well-being. For that reason, I headed to the ship’s security archives.

It’s not out of the realm of possibility that Imperial spies may have somehow infiltrated the Athens. While we were not expected to see action again in some time, our nation was still in the midst of a bloody conflict—and the Athens was undoubtedly an alluring target. I was a well-known public figure on top of being a decorated veteran, while Admiral Locke was a crucial member of our military leadership. It would be both demoralizing and debilitating if the Unified Nations were to somehow lose the two of us, and that’s without even considering the wealth of other experienced personnel aboard the Athens. As such, the safety of our ship and her crew was taken extremely seriously.

With these thoughts top of mind, I arrived at the archives. Seated at the main desk was a stocky, middle-aged gentleman, who sat up somewhat straighter once I entered the room.

“Ma’am! We rarely see anyone outside of administration here. What can I do for you today?” His tone was curious but respectful.

“I’d like access to all of your network and security logs since our assault on Zixue.”

“Of course, Major. However…” His face soured a little and he clasped his hands. “That’s quite a lot of data. It will take a few minutes to compile and authorize. Would you like to come back later?”

“I’ll wait.” Even if it took an hour, I could be patient. This investigation was my sole purpose for the day.

At my response, the man licked his lips, his eyes flitting across my body before returning to my face. “In that case, ma’am, may I donate some of my semen while you wait?”

I frowned slightly. The abrupt request wasn’t exactly unexpected. I was familiar with the look on this man’s face as he stared at me; I had seen it countless times in recent weeks. Everywhere I went, men looked at me with lust and desire—an understandable consequence of both my attractive physique and admittedly revealing jumpsuit.

Returning to the archivist’s proposal… my gut reaction was to decline, but the pragmatist in me argued, as it always did: if a man is willing to give me his semen, I shouldn’t refuse no matter the time or place. Realistically, there was no such thing as semen overconsumption.

I took a deep breath and spoke. “Will semen extraction not impede your work collecting the data?”

“Oh, no no no, not at all.” He emphatically denied the implication of my question. “I’ll just be sitting here working the whole time. Actually, in the meanwhile, I was hoping you could just crawl under the desk here and get me off with your tits—er, breasts.”

Ah. In that case, there truly was no reason to refuse.

“Very well,” I told him. “And do not force yourself to use formal language. I am well aware that many men find it arousing to speak of women’s bodies derogatorily.”

“Heh, thank you ma’am. Then, with my apologies…” He slapped a hand on his lap, near his crotch, before his tone of voice shifted. “Get yourself down here and put those huge honkers to work!”

I complied, sliding under his desk and carefully unzipping his fly. His penis was reminiscent of the man himself: stubby, with an impressive girth but middling length. I coaxed it into the chest opening of my jumpsuit, immediately proceeding to squeeze and massage my breasts around it. At times such as this, I was glad to be so well-endowed—I had witnessed other female comrades have difficulty accommodating similar requests.

His face out of view, the archivist began to moan. To his credit, the sounds of activity upon his data terminal did not cease in turn.

We continued like this for some time. At one point, a lieutenant interrupted with a routine access request, but I had no reason to intercede and simply devoted myself to the archivist’s pleasure. The lieutenant likely did not even notice my presence, as I was crouched beneath the desk for the duration of his visit.

After roughly half an hour, the archivist sharply tapped my shoulder. “Ma’am, it’s time.” Recognizing his intent, I withdrew my chest and placed my mouth over his penis. Moments later, I was hit by the intoxicatingly delicious taste of the man’s semen. It was truly delectable.

Eventually, his ejaculation ceased. Ignoring the slight disappointment in the back of my mind, I crawled back out from under his desk and stood to my full height.

“Thank you, ma’am.” The archivist had the usual pleased expression of a man who had just undergone semen extraction. “The data’s ready to go and uploaded to your neural implant. It should be accessible at your personal terminal.”

“Excellent. Thank you for your assistance.”

With a cordial farewell, I exited the archives and navigated back to my quarters, eager to begin reviewing the security logs. Unfortunately, a small group of men was waiting outside my door, led by Corporal Vonce. Once I was in sight, they all saluted.

“Corporal. To what do I owe the pleasure?” I asked, knowing why he had come. Vonce was now donating semen to me on an almost daily basis.

“Well, Major, if it’s not a bother… we were hoping to donate semen.” As expected.

There were five men altogether, including Vonce. As in the archives, I was struck with indecision. It was one thing to extract from the archivist, when I would have been waiting idly anyway, but now I had legitimate business to attend to. Even so…

“I have urgent materials to review, so I will not be able to actively extract from each of you.” The men looked blatantly disappointed, but were re-energized by my next words. “However, if it is acceptable to use my vagina or anus even while I am preoccupied, I have no objections.”

The men shared a glance, seemingly coming to an understanding. “That’s perfectly alright with us, ma’am,” Vonce responded. Expecting this decision, I led the men into my quarters. The room contained only my bed and terminal, with nothing particularly private, so I had no trepidations about allowing them inside. There was similarly no fear of them reading the data logs without permission; even once brought up on my terminal, the visual display would be encrypted and only decodable by my own neural implant.

After some deliberation, we settled into a comfortable position for all parties. I stood at my terminal reviewing the data logs, with my lower body jutting backward. Meanwhile, the men queued behind me, donating their semen one-by-one of their own accord. Vonce was first, inserting himself into my anus. I was still growing accustomed to semen extraction via anal sex, but it was becoming a popular alternative amongst certain men. Once Vonce had climaxed, he emptied his condom into a bottle at my side designated for that purpose.

The process repeated for each of the remaining four (three opted for vaginal sex, one anal). By the time the fifth man had finished, Vonce’s erection had returned, and thus we began again. They had come prepared with a large collection of condoms, so they must have anticipated this as a possibility.

I did not mind. I regularly drank from the bottle, savoring the taste of the men’s semen, and twice even enjoyed an orgasm of my own. However, my mental focus remained on the task at hand. It may take days to search it all, but if there was something nefarious hiding in this data, it would only be a matter of time before I found it.

Catherine

Once again, it was evening—the usual time for sexual processing. Unusually, I sat in my personal quarters, with Cooper nowhere to be seen. I was even dressed respectably in our standard naval uniform.

The Chief Engineer had requested a change of scenery tonight, saying that he wished to be processed in my room rather than his own. It was not specified that a sexual processor must perform her duties in any particular location, so I agreed to his request. I did initially recoil at the thought of Cooper invading my private space, but giving him the illusion of control was more important than my own discomfort.

Although, glancing at the clock, Cooper was late. His casual disregard for punctuality often irritated me but, in this rare case, I wasn’t bothered. Perhaps he’d forgotten our arrangement. Perhaps he was sitting in his room alone, fruitlessly waiting for me to arrive. The thought made me chuckle. If he never showed, I could reasonably avoid processing him for the night altogether, under the pretense that I had agreed to this appointment and he was simply at fault for failing to present himself.

I thus turned my attention to some paperwork, beginning to look forward to a night without Anthony Cooper. I should have known not to get my hopes up; there came a rap on the door a few seconds later.

Steeling myself, I stood out of my chair and opened the door. In front of me, of course, was none other than Chief Engineer Cooper.

“Good evening, Admiral. I have some reports that need your signature. May I come in?” His tone was as professional as I’d ever heard it. However, he was hardly a first-rate actor, as his eyes betrayed his lustful intentions.

“It’s rather late, Chief Engineer. Can this wait for tomorrow?” This was all part of our “script” for tonight, the characters we were acting out per Cooper’s request.

“I’m afraid not, ma’am.”

I sighed, knowing what was to come, and stood aside to clear the doorway. “Very well. Come in.”

Nodding, Cooper stepped into my quarters. As soon as the door had closed, I embraced the man, pinning him against the wall with a passionate kiss.

“Oh, Anthony…” “Catherine…” We stared longingly into each other’s eyes, my hands on his chest as he ran his fingers through my hair. I pushed down any feelings of revulsion and kissed him again, feeling his hands move lower down my body as I did.

Tonight, we were playing as lovers, pretending to be in a secret, amorous relationship behind literal closed doors. I welcomed the change of pace from his regular “horny sex slave” fantasy, but at the same time, it put me on edge to act out genuine romance with such a man. This was the first time I’d really had to pretend to be heartfelt as his sexual processor.

Obliviously plowing ahead with his own desires, Cooper unbuttoned my top, showering kisses upon my breasts.

“I love you, Catherine…” He moaned into my chest. “I love you too…” I reciprocated, but kept his name out of my mouth.

Not noticing or not caring, Cooper raised his head and asked a “question”—his hands still aggressively feeling me up. “Do you love me more than your husband?”

“Not on your life, bastard,” I wanted to say—but obviously did not. Honeyed words fell out of my mouth instead, as the two of us began to disrobe. “Of course…” I cooed, “My husband means nothing to me anymore. You’re the only man I want in the entire galaxy.” As I emphasized the word “man”, I caressed the tent in Cooper’s pants.

That might have been laying it on thick, but once again Cooper did not seem to mind. He wanted to drown in his fantasies; a little hyperbole actually stoked the flames.

We ambled towards the bed as we continued to kiss and grope each other, losing one article of clothing after another. By the time we collapsed on the bed in tandem, we were both naked. I could feel Cooper’s fiery-hot erection pressing against my thigh, mere inches from my vagina. Before I could react, his fingers were inside me while he licked and sucked my nipples. I laid on my back, arching in pleasure as Cooper’s hands and mouth had their way with my tits and pussy. Just as I had become more familiar with his body over these past weeks, the reverse was also true (if to a lesser extent). Frustratingly, but undeniably, I grew wet—it was one thing for me to touch myself during sexual processing, but never had Cooper’s own touch provoked such a dramatic physical response.

“I want you, Catherine…” Cooper whispered in my ear. “I’m going to fuck you, right now…”

My eyes widened. He was going too far. The profanity was acceptable for the purposes of roleplay, but we had agreed upon the usual blowjob tonight, nothing more.

On the other hand… I thought back to all our prior nights together. Time and again, it had been proven that keeping Cooper happy during sexual processing was my optimal course of action. Furthermore, there was no shame in performing one’s duty to the fullest extent of your ability. Taking those facts into consideration, is it not true that the most effective method of sexual processing would be sex itself? Sexual desire, at its biological core, was a want to inseminate. Stimulation with hands or mouth, breasts or buttocks, would always be secondary to the innate compatibility of penis and vagina. I already knew it hastened Cooper’s orgasm to see me feeling pleasure. If we had intercourse, I could both give and receive extreme pleasure.

It was the logical conclusion. The best, most efficient way to process Anthony Cooper would be to have sex with him.

Making this decision, I threw myself back into my role. I kissed Cooper again, reaching down to guide his cock towards my opening. “Yes, Anthony… Do it,” I pleaded, in a voice that only my husband had ever heard.

The tip of Cooper’s dick nudged my insides, but—he stopped just short of actually inserting. “Take off your wedding ring,” he commanded. “From this day forward, you are my woman and no one else’s.”

I froze at his words. For the “scene” we were enacting, this request was in-character. We were “deeply in love” and I was cheating on my husband. Having me remove my ring was a way to assert dominance, which always turned Cooper on.

Fundamentally, this is mere acting. There’s no cause for concern. Even so… even so… my mind fought this request. I felt like there was something missing, like I would somehow be losing something important by going through with this.

I looked at my ring, a simple golden band. It matched my husband: he was a straightforward, earnest man. Not flashy, but respectable and hardworking. I loved him with all my heart, and often found myself thinking of him during the lonelier nights here on the Athens.

Ultimately, I had my duties as an admiral of the Unified Nations. Nothing was more important. Here and now, that duty called for me to devote myself to sexual processing. It was no different than a foot soldier firing a gun; murder was unforgivable in civilized society, but the nations of history nonetheless condoned it during warfare. Just the same, having sex with another would be infidelity under normal circumstances, but in times of war it could become a powerful tool to raise morale.

My pussy ached. My nipples could cut diamonds. The feeling of Cooper’s penis against my crotch taunted me. Whatever anxieties I had felt earlier, I couldn’t bring them into focus. They slipped away the more I tried to think about them, like the recollection of a dream after waking. I knew I would always love my husband. That would never change.

I took off my ring, and looked up at Cooper expectantly. “I’m all yours, Anthony,” I told him in the softest, most affectionate voice I could.

I had barely finished speaking when his lips were on top of mine, synchronized with the full length of his cock sliding into my pussy.

““Ohhhh…”” We moaned into each other’s mouths, neither of us able to resist the intense pleasure.

Our sex was unlike any previous night of sexual processing. Cooper became like an animal, aggressively setting the pace. Like a good “lover”, I followed his flow, allowing myself to be pulled from position to position to position, each more pleasurable than the last. His fingers and tongue found their way to every inch of my body, against the constant backdrop of his cock relentlessly thrusting in and out of me.

It lasted far longer than I would have anticipated from prior experience. Cooper had recently been orgasming as quickly as two or three minutes, but now… ten minutes passed, then twenty. The pleasure made it hard to keep track. It became easier, less exhausting, to just obey whatever he asked of me, without specific conscious thought.

Eventually, the long awaited words finally came. “I’m going to cum, Catherine.”

At this point I was on top, riding Cooper vigorously. I could vaguely recall climbing on top of him, his eyes ogling my boobs as they bounced up and down, but I had no idea how long we’d been in this position. Regardless, I sped up—it was no concern for him to ejaculate inside. Birth control was trivial in this day and age.

“Give it to me, Anthony! Cum deep inside Admiral Catherine Locke’s pussy!” The stilted third-person phrasing was intentional. A common theme of Cooper’s requests is that he got off on being reminded of my authority. He loved the idea of me being his “personal admiral”. Even if he had lasted much longer than usual tonight, I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist if I flaunted the situation in front of him.

Just as expected, I felt his cock twitch inside me, and with one final thrust…

“Ohhhh…!”

“Ahhh…”

Cooper came. I dimly felt his semen splashing inside me, coating my womb with his seed. It was disgusting, but I was obviously prepared for it as soon as I agreed to have sex with him.

As soon as it was over, I immediately stepped off the bed and put my wedding ring back on, trying my best to ignore the uncomfortable trickle of liquid sliding down my leg. I then turned to Cooper. “That has been your sexual processing for the night, Chief Engineer. I hope you’ll understand if I now ask you to leave.” Not an ounce of romance remained in my voice, of course.

Cooper grinned, but left quietly after getting dressed. “Of course. Sweet dreams, Admiral.”

After he left, I retired to the washroom to clean up. It was only once I had a moment to myself that I realized, with extremely mixed emotions, Cooper had not been the only one to orgasm tonight.