The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Sasha looked out of her cab window as it pulled to a halt. The building before her wasn’t much to look at—from the outside, it looked like any other concrete block structure on this particular street. But knowing what was inside, its non-descript exterior was probably an intentional design feature.

If she had had any doubt at all that this drab destination was the wrong one, it was dispelled when her Mind Chip dinged to confirm her arrival in the right location.

Sasha had gotten the address from a MindWeb invite she’d received only a few days before. She’d worked as a freelance pornography star for just under six months, but already she’d made a bit of a splash. In the first few months, she’d had to send out neural queries. But now, as she was closing out her fifth month, the balance was tipping the other way, and she was receiving more offers than she was sending out requests for work.

It was easy enough with the chip there in her mind; interested clients only needed to set the intention, and the request came across the collective neural network that linked everyone, and replying to secure work was as simple as thinking yes or no and sending it back.

But Sasha had known, when she’d received this particular invitation, that it was different from the rest. It had been a sparse invitation, but all the relevant details had been there: one night’s engagement, at a sex dungeon which had been booked for that night (and the address was listed), and the offered pay. And then of course, the question: would she accept or decline?

Sasha had accepted it immediately, because she’d known what it was. In her work with other actresses, she’d heard this event mentioned before, but even if she hadn’t, she’d followed her local scene as an amateur admirer long enough before crossing into becoming a performer that she’d heard rumors of it there too.

It was an event which recurred every two months, a bit of an open secret in the sense that it was exclusive—no photography or press were ever allowed. But other actresses who had taken part in versions of this event were usually happy to describe their experiences.

A rich benefactor financed this regular series of events. No one knew anything about them, except that they paid for everything—to rent the space, and to pay the stars hired for the night—and pay them well. They hired from a pool of girls like her, porn actresses and camgirls who were new to the scene, so that it partly functioned as an exhibition of up and coming talent. But to be invited, you had to already be making a name for yourself. Sasha had thought her star was rising, but receiving the invitation had confirmed it.

Of course, it was just the smallest bit frightening to accept; agreeing to take part meant signing a contract (which she had done the day before last, after sending her informal confirmation) allowing the organizers of the event complete control of her Mind Chip for the duration, for programming purposes. The entire purpose of the event was to display the girls as living statues for the entire night; and the necessary stillness for this was programmed directly into their minds.

But when Sasha had received the invitation, she hadn’t even given it a second thought. She would accept—every girl who got the invitation did. If the affirmation of rising success wasn’t enough, the generous pay would have been. For Sasha, the two things combined were irresistible.

She thanked the cab driver, and interfaced with him to transfer payment before stepping out of the cab. She had been instructed, after signing the contract, to bring nothing but the clothes on her body. She had not. She was glad. She was jittery as she crossed the sidewalk to the entrance. She would have been too shaky to hold onto anything.

When Sasha reached the door, she only pressed the bell once before it opened to her. On the other side stood a tall woman in a tightly tailored suit that hugged her assets. The woman would have been intimidating if not for the look on her face—her eyes were half-lidded, and her features softened by what could have been mistaken for drowsiness—but what Sasha recognized as trance.

“I’m Jordan,” the woman said, and that faraway sound was in her voice matched her eyes and face. “I’m the assistant to the organizer, and I’m also the attendant of this event. Please follow me inside.”

There didn’t seem to be anything else to say, as Jordan had given a clear directive, so Sasha silently followed her inside.

It was only a few steps to the left to reach their destined location: a clean, well-lit white marble room. The lighting was bright, illuminating everything in detail—it needed to be, because the room had no windows. No passerby would catch surreptitious glances of this—only those in the room would be allowed to see.

In the room stood twenty pedestals, and of those twenty, the ten on the left hand side were occupied by ten girls standing naked in various poses. The light caught the sweat off their skin, but though they were well-posed, they looked quite comfortable in their positions. Each was breathing slowly as if she were in a deep sleep.

Sasha’s eyes drifted from the pedestals and their ten occupants to the rest of the room around her. It was clearly large enough for a variety of objects in various sizes, but all had been cleared to leave the room almost empty, except for the pedestals in their two parallel rows.

It struck Sasha that she was standing in space that was regularly used as a sex dungeon—that any other night of the month, it would not be emptied of its contents but instead full of all kinds of structures and objects for the enjoyment of the club patrons. The sheer size of the room was even more striking with it cleared out, and she couldn’t help but think aloud.

“It must cost a fortune to reserve the whole club,” she said, as she glanced again around the room. “The organizer must really be rich for them to shell out like this.”

“They are,” Jordan said, in her soft tone of voice. “But I must apologize: in my trance state, I can only discuss specific details about tonight’s event. I can’t hold a conversation with you on a topic outside of that. All I can do is show you to your pedestal.”

“That’s fine,” Sasha said, only paying half attention. Her eyes were turning from the room back to its occupants. “Which one is mine?”

“The one on the far end,” Jordan replied, beginning to walk again. Sasha followed her, as she led the way down the aisle between the two rows of pedestals.

She again ignored the empty row of ten on the right, but she paid closer attention to the ten women on the left this time. She’d given them a quick scan, but now she looked over them with more care. All ten were very lovely. A few of them she had seen before in passing, in and around shoots. She recognized their faces. A few others she recognized from their films. If she had not encountered them around the scene, it would have been easy to mistake the women for models instead of porn actresses.

Each girl was slim, and the ten of them ranged from medium height to tall. Yet despite their slim stomachs, each of the ten was well-proportioned, with varying degrees of curves. Each had ample breasts, which were exposed completely in the nude—so it was very easy to see their nipples were hard as stone. And under the lights, it was very easy to catch the sweat glinting on their skin—on their legs especially.

As she walked, Sasha’s eyes drank in each woman, dimly registering each in turn, determining where she had seen them before.

When they were about halfway down the aisle, Sasha stopped in place. Her previous glances over the left hand row had missed this fifth girl. She knew this girl as more than an acquaintance, and as more than a face on a screen, and it made her forget to keep walking for a minute.

This was Moira, and she had done a shoot with her, just the two of them. It had been a run of the mill shoot—a girl on girl scene, only two players, her and Moira. Simple, but it had taken a few hours to complete, and they’d spent a lot of time chatting between takes. And they’d chatted both before and after the shoot began.

It was true Sasha hadn’t known her long. But they had probably spent close to three or four hours talking the day of the shoot, and she’d gotten to know her well enough to consider her a casual friend. She’d certainly spoken with her long enough to get a sense of Moira’s personality. She was chatty by nature, bubbly, and full of life. Her emotions always animated her face to an almost comical extreme—or what would have been a comical extreme, if it hadn’t been clear how earnest and sincere a person she was.

But there was no trace of that now. She wore a blank expression, a look of total relaxation and peace. Sasha had never seen such a look of calm before. Moira’s eyes were glazed over and unfocused, blind to the room. Her mind, mind’s eye and vision were clearly all drawn inward and tangled up in trance. She was like a placid lake—no movement visible on the surface, but beneath, in the hidden depths, contortions and twists went on unseen.

Whatever the trance was doing with her mind, it was clear to Sasha that Moira was enjoying it. She couldn’t say exactly how she knew this—because Moira was as still as ever, blank and serene, but somehow she could sense her friend’s mindless bliss as if it were warmth emanating from her body. It was clear enough that Sasha could almost imagine she felt it on her skin, even at a distance. Something beneath the surface just gave Sasha the feeling that Moira was more contented now than she had ever been in her waking life.

It made her feel strangely. To see this lively woman reduced to an entranced creature indistinguishable from the other nine she stood beside… It was captivating to watch, but frightening to think about. All that made Moira herself could be and had been switched off through her Mind Chip with no difficulty at all, and it had been replaced by a deep, all-consuming trance.

And the same was going to happen to Sasha.

Sasha picked up on the deep sense of bliss and peace again. Her eyes shifted back across the first four she had passed—all their expressions matched Moira’s. The others were farther away, so she couldn’t feel their bliss as a physical sensation like she had with Moira. But each girl had a glow around her that wasn’t quite visible, and yet… was somehow noticeable.

Maybe it was in the way they held their bodies—maybe it was written into the looseness of their shoulders, or the way they relaxed into their various stances rather than held them. But there was something intangible about each girl that gave Sasha the same feeling she’d had about Moira. Each one was at their most content, most peaceful. None of them had ever been more satisfied than they were in this moment. And even in trance, each girl was flush with color, as if sleeping a sleep animated by pleasing dreams. What did they dream of that satisfied them so?

Sasha hadn’t thought of it before, but these other girls who were only distant acquaintances each had vivid personalities of their own, too… and yet each of these had also been swept away to leave behind only the trance. Or… each girl had willingly given herself up to it in exchange for… whatever it was they were feeling now. Could she really let herself go in this way? Could she so easily sweep aside her own identity, lose herself into the same feeling that now held all of the others?

She stood a second longer, looking, feeling her nerves building. If she hadn’t signed the contract, if this hadn’t been such an important opportunity for her, part of her would seriously have considered leaving. As it was, she could only stand frozen in anxiety.

“Sasha,” Jordan said, and Sasha realized the other woman had doubled back to where she was standing. “You’re nervous.” It wasn’t a question.

Sasha nodded silently, her eyes back on her friend.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” the attendant said, her voice becoming slightly more animated. She placed her hand gently on Sasha’s arm, and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I’ve worked for my employer for years, and co-ordinated countless versions of this event. Every precaution is taken—every protection is put into place. Nothing has ever gone wrong. Nothing will ever go wrong. And every girl who has ever taken part has given us glowing feedback. My employer is a very considerate and meticulous person. They always plan it out perfectly, and I always execute it perfectly.”

There was something like affection in Jordan’s voice, even through the veil of trance. And the combined effect of Jordan’s increased animation, her soothing words, and her hand on Sasha’s arm thawed out Sasha’s anxiety. She turned back to face Jordan. “Okay,” she said, in a still small voice.

Jordan nodded once. “Come,” she said, and turned back around to continue walking.

Once again Sasha followed her, but her eyes went back to the girls. The lights were so bright they really displayed them in the finest detail—and she could see the places where the light caught and shimmered.

With a faint exhalation of surprise she realized—the slit of each girl was glistening.

She looked back over her shoulder to see the same was true of those she’d already passed, and she looked back to the sixth girl in line as she continued walking. What she’d mistaken for sweat on their legs had actually been each girl’s arousal.

It was obvious each girl was wet, but the degree of lubrication was not constant. Some had only dew drops of arousal which flickered in the light, but others were trailing down the inseam of their legs—and still others were leaking so much that it was pooling on the pedestal beneath them.

“They’re… all wet?” Sasha asked.

“I did say my employer is very considerate—and you already guessed at their generosity when you imagined the cost of renting this space.” Even through trance, there was a tinge of amusement in Jordan’s voice.

Sasha read the unspoken implication loud and clear. Each girl was orgasming—continuously. That look of bliss and satisfaction each had wasn’t only emotional—it was physical, sexual. Sasha felt her cheeks heat, and the thought made her next step forward unsteady.

As the programming kept their minds deep in trance, their bodies were rewarded for obeying their own programmed Mind Chips… rewarded with endless pleasure…

Sasha shivered—she felt a lick of pleasure between her legs, given an edge by her earlier nerves. When she posed herself as a living statue, as she was being paid to do, the entire time… she would be cumming.

At last, Jordan stopped walking, and Sasha realized they had reached her pedestal. She looked away from the row of living statues to her own pedestal, the first to be filled in the right hand row, and at the opposite end of the room from the entry archway.

Sasha considered it for a moment. She felt nervous again, but this time—she felt a sense of pride. The pedestal was rightfully hers: she had been chosen for this. She was worthy of this. She was as beautiful and model-esque as the ten women she had passed by. She was a thing of beauty like them—she belonged with them.

The thought was exciting. If the invitation to this engagement alone hadn’t been enough, this realization would have been. She had successfully broken into the professional scene, successfully broken into the industry. She was a notable up and comer. She deserved this. It was all upward momentum from here.

But her focus was distracted, because in the corner of her eye—she saw movement.

She turned back to look at the tenth girl across from her own pedestal. She hadn’t had time to consider her closely, because Jordan had stopped walking first and she’d been distracted by her own pedestal.

But she could see now that this tenth girl was not posed like the others. She stood comfortably, with only a hand on her hip, and her other arm hanging limply along her side. Next to the nine others who eased back into carefully designed poses, this girl stood out.

And unlike the others, at the base of this girl’s pedestal, there was a small pile of clothing.

Sasha looked to the girl’s face, then—and was surprised to see the girl actually looked sleepier than the rest. Her eyelids were weighing down so heavily they were practically closed. This too was in contrast to the other nine, whose eyes were only slightly lidded.

Sasha was distracted again when movement stirred once more. Slowly, as if pulled by some light, invisible force, the girl’s limp arm began to raise until it was positioned over her head, in a half version of a ballerina’s pose.

Vaguely, Sasha was reminded of a stage hypnosis show she had seen once—one of the tasks for the hypnotized had been the invisible balloon. One of the women had been told a balloon had been tied to her wrist, and it was floating up, up, up… and the woman’s arm had raised. This tenth girl was exactly like that—the way she’d raised her arm had been exactly like that.

With a slight smirk playing at her lips Sasha realized—all ten girls were exactly like that: hypnotized and entranced, to be posed however their controller desired.

Jordan had turned from the pedestal to stand beside Sasha. “You’re noticing her,” she observed. “She arrived just before you, and she only recently slipped into full trance. That pose she just struck is to signal that her conditioning has completely sunk in; to show she feels completely obedient and receptive to commands. Her Mind Chip has now successfully downloaded and integrated the full programming, ready for posing. Excuse me,” Jordan added, turning from Sasha to look back to the girl.

“Have you surrendered your mind to trance?” Jordan asked, her voice as ever a soothing lull, indicative of her own trance. She had directed it to the girl, who sighed in response, “yes.”

“Will you obey all commands that are programmed into you?”

“Yes.”

“Will you surrender your will entirely to your programming?”

“Yes.”

“Will you allow trance to take complete control of you, body and mind?”

“Yes.”

“Will you give control of yourself up entirely, to achieve complete surrender?”

“Yes.”

Jordan nodded once to herself, and then said, “Opal seashell festival gold,” and snapped her fingers.

The effect was instant. That invisible glimmer had stolen over the girl, writing itself into the position of her muscles, the angle of her shoulders, and in the relaxed rising and falling of her chest.

The girl’s eyelids rose from their sunken, nearly closed position to match the eyes of the other girls, and her face took on that same expression of serene contentment. And in time with this change, her limbs moved again, her arms drifting down to her sides, and clasping behind her back. Her upper torso tilted forward, one leg stepped forward and she leaned her weight onto it. As she moved Sasha could feel that whisper of bliss drifting out from her. It was like watching embers flickering on the remains of a bonfire log.

At last, the girl was in position, as the other nine of her kind were. She relaxed into her final arrangement, and a full-body shudder passed through her. She let out a faint, but unmistakeable sigh of pleasure—and she did not move again. As she stilled into position, a small smile crossed her face.

With a start, Sasha realized the girl had just had an orgasm—that her orgasm had been a reward for surrendering entirely to trance, and assuming her programmed position. And a glisten of moisture was now very noticeable on the lips of the girl’s pussy. A faint smile was still visible on her face.

Jordan nodded once more to herself, then bent down to collect the girl’s piled clothing. She turned back to Sasha.

“I apologize,” Jordan said.

“Nothing to apologize for,” Sasha returned. “That… actually answered a lot of my questions.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Jordan replied. “Are you ready to begin?”

Sasha swallowed, but the peace she had seen reflected in each of the ten girls she’d passed seemed less frightening now and more… alluring. “Yes.”

Then she thought for a moment. “Do you want me to remove my clothing now, or…?”

Jordan shook her head. “No. All you need do is step onto your pedestal, and take a deep breath. That will synchronize you to your Mind Chip, and signal that you’re ready to be programmed.”

Sasha felt the nervousness again as she climbed onto her pedestal, but this time she felt a sense of excitement too. She stood comfortably in the middle of the pedestal and, as instructed, drew in a deep breath.

Once she had drawn the air in, as if on cue, she felt the chip in her mind activating, accessing the cloud server that held all the programming that was about to be downloaded into her brain. As the air flowed back out of her on her exhale, the nervous energy and excitement drained out with it as Sasha’s Mind Chip overrode her thoughts.

What was left behind was a loose sense of relaxation; she felt her body deflating into it, and she felt a sense of perfect calm. Everything was just as it should be. Everything was perfect. She anticipated what was going to happen to her still, but all the rush of high energy that came with excitement had left her to her calm. And she could feel her mind becoming fuzzy.

Sasha felt her body relax further, as if her limbs were hanging from their sockets, and her head sagged forward on her neck. Her eyes became heavy, and her eyelids drooped down almost to closing—she remembered vaguely how that had looked on the tenth girl.

She tried to form a thought—tried to think, now I’m just like them, but the thought wouldn’t come. Even the energy required to produce a thought was impossibly demanding. She was simply too exhausted to think, too exhausted to hold on even to this fuzzy shred of awareness. It would be so much easier just to let go… and so she did, sinking into the warm, encompassing feeling that was waiting for her—slipped into it, just like her chip told her to.

An eternity passed. Sasha stood there, flopped forward and loose with an empty mind; feeling like she’d been drugged, or had taken too much sleep medicine. She was in an in-between place, caught somewhere between deep meditation, deep relaxation, and a deep sleep. If she fell asleep now, she knew it would be the best sleep of her life.

But the feeling was different from normal drowsiness. Even in her nearly unconscious state, she felt some parts of her body very noticeably waking up. She could feel, through the fog, that her nipples were tightening into points, and her pussy seemed equally interested and awake. Somewhere distantly she heard a voice telling her that she was getting turned on… that it was so hot to be programmed… to be a good, obedient, thoughtless slave waiting for further programming.

Dimly, she felt her chip start working double time. The conditioning was being downloaded in earnest now, at twice the speed it had been coming in before.

If she’d had the energy to think, or even observe, she could have paid attention to this stream of conditioning. But everything other than the feeling of sleepy warmth, the feeling of cozy, encompassing arousal, had become unintelligible to her. It would be too exhausting to focus on anything besides the loose emptiness. It was better to stay in the sensation, and feel herself growing sleepier and sleepier. As she did that, she felt her pleasure increase again.

The more she let the calm take her, the more her awareness of her Mind Chip drifted away, and she kept spiralling down into the feeling, deeper and deeper. At each new level there was more pleasure waiting for her, more warmth, a stronger sense of complete rightness. The rest of the world had ceased to exist. All that existed was this feeling drawing her in—it was all that had ever existed for Sasha.

She must have surely fallen asleep. Now, she had to be dreaming—dreaming the most satisfying wet dream of her life, of warmth, of rippling, twining and twisting pleasure that only drew her more deeply into its clutches.

From a very long distance away, a voice came to her. Was it the voice of her own thoughts, bidden to speak by the chip that had now seized total control of her, or was it Jordan, giving a command? In her right mind she might have cared enough to wonder, but lost in the haze of pleasure, all she could do was absorb what the voice was telling her—that it was time to strip naked, and make herself more comfortable.

Sasha felt that was the most brilliant idea anyone had ever had, but the feeling came on a delay, so that by the time it had permeated her fogged mind, her hands had already half-completed the task. And her hands were not moving quickly: they drifted like the fog in her, slowly dragging through each movement as if they were parting water. Somewhere under the fog there was almost a kernel of nervousness again.

But at last, her underwear fell to her feet, leaving her completely naked. As soon as she felt them come to rest on the pedestal, relief filled her body. Any nerves she’d been feeling the minute before were gone. That rightness had rooted into her more deeply, and had brought with it feelings of peace and calm.

And all of it was tied into a deeper feeling of erotic awakening. She’d felt the first stirrings of that hunger already, but now as she was in this place of drifting calm, she felt them more powerfully. Her body was craving physical release, and her pussy was reminding her eagerly of this. She could feel pleasure tonguing at her from the inside, and the only thought left in her programmed mind was anticipation for the pleasure to be set free in her, for it to spread through her and take hold.

Sasha realized the voice was still speaking—she felt rightness about this too. It was good to listen to the voice. The voice knew everything she wanted to know, and wanted to share it with her. She liked listening to it. It would tell her how she could satisfy her craving for the pleasure—it would tell her how she could have it.

The voice gave Sasha a new impulse to obey—to place her hand on her hip. It took all her concentration to do it, but the thought of resisting never even entered her mind. She was too blanked out for that.

It seemed she could only move her hand inches at a time, and it still felt to her like she was dragging her body through water. Once it was done, she sagged into the position.

Again, a flood of relief passed through her. But this flood was quickly washed out and overtaken by a second flood of pleasure, and she hungered more desperately for release. Her core ached with intensity that would have surprised her if she had still had room to think.

But there was no room to think. Her mind had been switched off, and all that was left was the feeling in her body. Her body demanding, in a language deeper and older than words, demanding its satisfaction and release, and all she could do was stand in that craving and ache in impatience. She wanted the voice to hurry up and speak again, to give her the next command. The voice could give her release—and she wanted that to happen as soon as possible.

The voice spoke: it was time for Sasha to raise her hand above her head. As before, she dragged herself through the motion, forcing her way forward against a rushing current that wanted to knock her back. She shoved through water, forging her way inch by inch. It took all the strength she had, and what little focus she had left.

As she was raising her hand, she had a fresh sense of anticipation. Even without words, she understood that this was important—she was the girl in the seat at the hypnosis show, her hand tied to the invisible balloon. She was the tenth girl on the pedestal, standing and answering Jordan’s questions. Once her arm was raised, it would be her turn to answer the same questions—her turn to fully slip into trance, and then in her deeply entranced state, her turn to find her release.

When Sasha’s arm floated into position, she waited for the voice to speak again. When it didn’t, she couldn’t help but feel sad. She had never wanted to orgasm so badly in her life. There was nothing she wanted more than to come. But the voice hadn’t let her—what if the voice would never let her? Had her obedience been found lacking? Had her invitation to participate all been some terrible mistake? Maybe if she had obeyed properly, she would have been allowed to come. If she had only been better… if she had only been more obedient…

But then she heard a new voice—this was Jordan, now. Jordan was asking her the questions! Sasha barely heard them, barely listened to them. She listened only for the pauses, only watched for each chance to present her “yes” of response. Nothing else mattered; she was focusing all her attention on the idea that she was about to be commanded—she was about to have her release. She waited breathlessly for it to happen.

Finally, there were no more questions. Jordan spoke a string of words—“Indigo dancer moonlight sunshine”—that only Sasha’s subconscious mind could hear. The words were unintelligible to her, like a foreign language, or pure nonsense. And yet, on a deeper level, some part of her understood their meaning perfectly. Unconsciously she knew—this was her command. It was her turn.

The impulse to obey a new suggestion filled her mind, and she found her body already shifting itself into position. She felt herself drifting to arrive in her pose. She felt her eyelids raise from their nearly closed position, and for a moment was aware of the room again. She saw Jordan standing before the pedestal, watching her. And at some point she had been joined by another girl, still fully dressed, who was watching her too—just as she’d watched the tenth girl.

But they were unimportant to her. The only thing that mattered was moving her body into position—letting arms and legs and fingers pose and obey. Letting her shoulders move and her back arch. Letting the Mind Chip place her wherever it wanted her.

At last, Sasha had arrived, her body easing into her final pose. It felt like slipping into a warm bath, or curling up under a thick blanket. She had obeyed perfectly—and her body at last came to rest. No more movement was necessary. And the moment that happened, she felt her mind become completely submerged in a dream of trance.

When she had fully gone under, it happened. The release she had ached for unfolded, spreading patiently through her. She felt her body move slightly with the first grips of it, and a small smile touched Sasha’s face.

There was no rush, because the release had no end. It was perpetual, stretching on and on and only growing in power. In each instant, she was sure she had found the point of ultimate pleasure. She was sure that she achieved the highest level of climax possible—and then a next moment followed that one, with a greater point of pleasure, and a deeper level of fulfillment. It was a spiral of bliss, drawing her further into itself. There was no end to it.

She could feel her smile fading—now she was drifting through the dream she had seen on the other girls’ faces. Now she was sleeping the best sleep of her life, the sleep she had been promised when she’d first felt trance starting to take hold. There was nothing left to worry about. All there was left to do was feel; all that was left was pure obedience, and the bliss of trance.

The last thing Sasha noticed before she fell asleep was the distant sensation of a trickle of warm wetness running down her leg.