The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I am a slave.

I am a slave.

Alice said the words quietly, under her breath, happy that she was finally able to say them low enough that the people sitting next to her in the lecture hall couldn’t hear her.

It had been embarrassing, the way people, and her friends had been looking at her during those first few weeks, constantly asking her if she’d said something. So finally learning the trick of speaking the words quietly enough so that only she herself could hear had been a happy accomplishment for her.

I am a slave.

I am a slave.

She stifled a laugh and tried to look interested in the drone of the professor lecturing. So this was a major accomplishment in her life was it? Being able to hide what a good little slave she’d become. Wouldn’t M…Robin get a kick out of that.

That was another “accomplishment” of hers. Here, in the real world, she forced herself to think of Robin as Robin, she struggled hard not to even think of the M-word.

At home, of course, it was impossible. The M-word was on her mind constantly while in Robin’s presence.

I am a slave.

I am a slave.

Alice sighed; she really needed to stop, this was the last place she needed to have an orgasm.

It had been…oddly fun at first, despite her objections to the whole idea of becoming a slave in the first place, a little jolt of pleasure every time she said ‘I am a slave’. It hadn’t been long before she’d been chanting it in time with her…roommates.

Then, of course, the rules had changed. A jolt after she said it ten times, then twenty, a hundred, and the level of pleasure had changed as the duration increased. What had been a jolt at ten had turned into a pulse at two hundred that stiffened her nipples and made her wet (wetter). Now, at God-knew-what number, it was an orgasm. An incredible orgasm. A fall-to-your-knees-screaming-submission orgasm. A…

I am a slave.

I am a slave.

Alice shook herself, she had to stop, she was just getting herself worked up. She glanced over at the girl sitting next to her; Meg caught her eye and gave a wan smile. She obviously found the professor as boring as Alice did.

Of course, Alice thought, she won’t be “punished” if she doesn’t get high marks.

Meg won’t be tied over a chair and spanked. Then gagged, hooded, arms and legs restrained, her collar chained to the wall for the night. Forced to do nothing but listen to all the others pleasuring Robin, and each other…

I am a slave.

I am a slave.

Enough!! She dug her fingernails into her arm and forced herself to pay attention to the lecture. The boring lecture, the boring professor, the boring professor’s lecture about, of all bloody things, sex in the Bible.

Meg shifted in her seat, then leaned over and whispered, “Are you going swimming later?”

Alice nodded and squeezed her thighs together. Meg’s breath had tickled her ear in just the right way (not that there was a wrong way, not these days) to send a tingling sensation up and down her spine.

Alice looked back over at her. They’d been…acquaintances in high school, but had become closer friends after discovering that they were the only two people from their class attending this collage. Then Mmm…M-word…Robin had come into Alice’s life, with straps and paddles and gags and the ability to whisper commands into her mind that she couldn’t disobey…

I am a slave.

I am a slave.

She wrenched her thoughts back to Meg. They’d grown apart since…M-word, aside from meeting at the gym to swim laps a couple of times a week. Meg did look really good in her swimsuit; M…Robin would like her. That would be nice, Robin was looking for a replacement for Shelly, Meg would be perfect.

She wondered how Robin would take Meg. Alice had been gagged and restrained on the bed with leather straps, the other girls working her naked body over with their fingers and tongues, bringing her to one unwilling orgasm after another, while Robin had knelt by her head, whispering things she couldn’t hear, but knew she’d never be able to forget, into her ear.

She knew now that the restraints had been totally unnecessary. Robin could have simply forced her to stand frozen in the middle of the room while programming her mind from the couch. Strapping her down, letting her squirm and struggle, straining against the fur-lined leather, moaning into the hood and gag, learning the feel of the collar, had simply been a bit of fun.

Teaching her how to enjoy the feel of restraints, because she’d had to be taught. Without Robin’s whispers, she never would have been able to enjoy being tied down, ever. She didn’t care what the others said; it was only because of the whispers that she loved the feel of a collar, the feel of her body being bound. Without the whispers she would be completely normal. She would…she wouldn’t…

I am a slave.

I am a slave.

Meg shifted again, bringing Alice’s thoughts back to her.

How would Meg be taken? It would be fun to see her tied down, to be one of the ones making her cum again and again while Robin knelt by her head…SHIT…what the hell am I thinking?

Meg. Is. My. Friend. God! To even think about bringing her to Robin’s attention, even with the whispers messing with my head. No matter how much she enjoyed Meg’s company, or how good she looked in her swimsuit, or how good she smells right now, or…

I am a slave.

I am a slave.

God, she was wet…Oh God, now she could smell it. She looked around. Had anyone else smelled it yet? This wasn’t going to work…she had to get out of here.

Quietly, she rose from her seat, murmured “bathroom” to Meg’s questioning look, and hurried from the lecture.

Out in the hall Alice quickly headed toward the ladies room. She’d started carrying around a couple changes of underwear around with her, because moments like this were becoming all to frequent. It had made Robin laugh to hear about it.

I am a slave.

I am a slave.

Suddenly Alice stopped. No. Not here. Not now. But before she could move, the orgasm came crashing through her. She fell to her knees as everything went white. She barely had the presence of mind to shove her face into her bag, to muffle the scream of pleasure that spilled from her mouth.

It went on forever and ever, seeming to rise in intensity as she chanted the mantra into the bag.

I am a slave.

I am a slave.

I am a slave.

I am a slave.

Finally it subsided, and no matter how fast she chanted she couldn’t get it to continue. She took a deep, shuddering breath and looked around. A young man, another student, was approaching her, concern on his face.

“Are you all right?” He asked.

Alice’s face flamed red with embarrassment. Crap, crap, crap, nothing like public humiliation to round out the day.

“I’m OK,” she said, trying to sound like what had happened was a normal, everyday event, “just a cramp.”

“Are you sure? Because…”

“Believe me, when women cramp, they really cramp.”

Now his face started to turn pink, it was rather cute actually. “Well, if you’re sure…”

“Thanks, but I’m just heading for the ladies room now.” And she turned and walked the three steps (THREE MORE FUCKING STEPS) to the ladies room and ducked inside.

Fortunately it was empty, and she ducked into the far stall. Hiking up her skirt (no more pants for her, the whispers said) she pulled off her sopping wet panties, dropped onto the seat, and buried her face in her hands.

That had been to close; she had to get Robin to undo this. Even though the orgasms were so spread out now that it would be at least a week before she had another one, it could happen anywhere. It had been only the merest chance that she hadn’t had her reward in the middle of the crowded lecture hall.

Robin would laugh to hear about it, but probably would alter it…probably…No, it had to be done, for security’s sake if nothing else. Don’t let anyone know, was one of the loudest whispers in her head, and falling down in the throes of orgasmic bliss, screaming out the mantra over and over, would definitely let people know that something was going on.

The worst part was she didn’t know when it would happen anymore. She would hit the magic number of chants, and the orgasm would hit. But since the number changed every time, growing larger by some random amount, she could never predict when or where her reward would hit.

They were coming about a week apart now, how high could one chant in a week? Thousands of times? Tens of thousands? She’d tried to count, the last time she’d been rewarded had been at bedtime, and she’d lain in bed, counting her quiet chants up to around a thousand before she’d dropped off to sleep and lost track. It was frustrating, because she had to know the number. Some part of her brain was keeping track, counting her chants until she reached the magic number, but she just couldn’t access it.

Suddenly Alice groaned. One hand was stroking her clit, her other hand had slid under her blouse and was rubbing her nipple with her panties. God, she’d been bad. How much had that boy seen? Had he heard her chanting, muffled though it had been by her bag? She’d broken a rule…if she’d only made those last three steps to the bathroom…Robin would punish her…she needed to be punished now…she needed to be tied down…she needed to be paddled.

She pulled her hand out from her blouse and shoved the panties into her mouth, they tasted of her juices, but now she was gagged. Ignoring her breasts with an effort, she moved her hand down until her wrists were crossed, and imagined a rope binding them together…doing the same with her ankles. Now leaning forward, her head touching the stall door, feeling the imaginary ropes binding her…Robin was behind her now, paddle in hand…swinging it in hard, measured strokes.

She was tied so tightly that she couldn’t move, gagged so well she couldn’t beg, and the stinging pain went on and on until everything went white as she came, desperately chanting through her gag…

I am a slave.

I am a slave.

I am a slave.

I am a slave.

Alice drew in deep breaths as the orgasm subsided and tried to think straight.

That had been so real. She’d actually been able to feel the ropes, feel Robin behind her, feel the stinging pain of the paddle. And it wasn’t over. Her sopping wet fingers were still plunging in and out of her pussy, rubbing against her clit.

I am a slave.

I am a slave.

She wished now that she’d worn the butt-plug. But she was going swimming later and changing into her swimsuit with the plug in would likely have attracted attention in the locker room.

Yes, the pools locker room, with all those young women changing…

She could imagine it now, a crowd of girls changing, talking, laughing. Only a few near the door notice as Robin walks in, stripping naked.

Unconsciously, Alice’s free hand moved back up to begin stroking her breast.

Suddenly, all the girls in the locker room freeze. Only their eyes move, darting back and forth as they struggle to move their unresponsive bodies. Their breath becoming louder as surprise and panic makes their hearts pound in their chests.

Then they begin to move again. Smoothly stripping naked, their movements showing no signs of their fierce internal struggles to regain control of their bodies, then lining up at attention, as if preparing for inspection.

Then an inspection begins, as Robin starts down the line of women, touching a breast here, stroking a pussy there, even stopping to smell one woman’s hair.

A heavily pierced girl with a tongue stud is the first to be rejected, moving out of line, getting dressed and leaving as quickly as she can. A woman with a ring on her finger is next to go as Robin moves down the line, dismissing those who fail to meet some arbitrary standard. Occasionally, those vacant places in line would be taken by new girls coming into the room, either from the hall, or from the pool. They would freeze in shock for a moment at the scene before them, then would strip down and join the line.

Finally Robin would finish the inspection and move to sit in a chair, and lean back with legs spread. Then the women would move forward, falling to their knees before the chair. Unwillingly, they would begin to masturbate.

Many, to their horror, had already grown wet during the inspection, the helplessness triggering something inside many didn’t know existed. But all now felt the growing dampness under their fingers, the stiffening of their nipples, as Robin’s power flowed over them.

Then, one by one, they crawled forward to bury their faces between Robin’s legs. One by one they crawled back to the line, to have their faces licked clean by their neighbor. Some began falling forward as their fingers brought them to one unwilling orgasm after another. And through it all, Robin smiled and laughed.

I am a slave.

I am a slave.

I am a slave.

I am a slave.

Alice came, and came, and came again. She slumped forward, trying desperately to draw enough air into her lungs around the gag in her mouth. For a while she just sat there, to exhausted to move, then she straightened up and tried to organize her mind. Pulling the panties from her mouth, she started licking her fingers clean without really realizing it.

What the FUCK had that been? It had been so real, more like a memory than a…

SHIT, could it have been a memory? Something that had happened to her that Robin had made her forget? Alice hugged herself. Had she been one of those girls in that scene, helpless and unable to escape? Was that when Robin had first chosen her? And why would she remember now, why would she frig herself to orgasm twice here at school? Unless…

A new plateau perhaps, had she hit a new magic number of chants? Would she not just have a orgasm as a reward now, but also fall down and bring herself off over and over again, whenever and wherever she was?

No, Robin didn’t want attention. There would be some way to control this. After all, the other girls didn’t have to deal with this sort of thing. Robin was just going to make her beg, and grovel, and…

And she had to get moving, she checked her watch, the lecture would be over.

Sighing, Alice cleaned herself off. Regretfully, she pulled the panties out of her mouth and put them into one of the zip-lock bags she carried around with her (already she was missing the comforting feel of the gag) along with the set from this morning. Then she pulled a clean pair of panties from her bag and put them on. Finishing, she put everything away in her bag, straightened her clothes, and left the stall…then she froze.

“You know,” Meg said with a grin, as she leaned against the sink. “I’ve got to meet this Robin.”

Alice just stared at her, feeling her entire body growing red.

“I mean,” she continued “anyone who can make a straight-laced girl like you come that many times while not even present…I’ve just got to get some pointers.”

“Meg…”

Meg’s face took on a look of mock pleading. “Oh please, please, pretty please with a vibrator on top? I haven’t had a good orgasm in the last three times I’ve slept with someone, and here someone’s shown you how to have three on a toilet.”

In spite of the combination of fear and lust that was running through her, Alice had to laugh, then she said, “Ok, what are you doing now?”

“We were going swimming, right?”

“So you brought your suit?”

Meg held up her bag, “Of course.”

“Why don’t we blow off swimming today and just head back to my place? Robin should be home and I’ll introduce you.”

“You, blowing off a workout,” Meg shook her head, “and you’ve been doing so well with them.”

“I expect,” Alice said dryly “that introducing you to Robin is going to be enough of a workout to make up for it.”

“Ooo, kinky.”

“Oh, just you wait.”

I should have just left, I shouldn’t be taking her to Robin, I should just make some excuse, Robin will…

But then, that’s the thing. Robin will do something anyway. And if we go now, maybe Robin will make her put on her swimsuit and you can run your hands all over…

It’s the whispers, damn it. They’re making me do this, making me take her now. Because she saw something, because she asked questions, because she won’t be put off by saying its cramps.

Alice took a deep breath. Ok, maybe it won’t be so bad? Maybe Robin will just alter her memory a bit and let her go…Maybe we can still be friends.

Maybe, a whisper said, we can be much more than friends…

Shit…OK, well, maybe Meg will put Robin into such a good mood that I can get the orgasm situation under control without too much groveling. At the very least, I have to stop chanting in public places, there’s just too much risk. If I only chant at home, then I can only get rewarded at home.

So that’s it then, I only chant the mantra at home from now on.

I am a slave.

I am a slave.

SHIT!!