The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Lisa was goggled up, immersed in her virtual reality workspace, dutifully shaping and routing the crystalline tubes that represented the routing of data packets for a client’s site, when the red and blue starburst began flaring in the corner of her eye. It was here! So great was her excitement that she almost forgot to save before shutting down, and she couldn’t shuck the helmet, peel out of her gloves fast enough; her cat Schrodinger yowled, barely getting out of her way in time as she raced to the apartment door.

Looking at the monitor plate set into the doorway, she saw the FedEx driver standing outside her door, and noted that the driver’s ID checked out using today’s public encryption key; she knew she must be flushed when she saw the other woman grinning at her, and she couldn’t help but grin in return. “Oh, I’m so glad I didn’t miss you!”

“Christmas isn’t for another few months, you know.”

“Well, it came early this year,” Lisa replied, laughing as she pointed to the box at the driver’s feet.

“It certainly looks that way. I just need to verify your identity.” Lisa dutifully pressed her thumb to the clipboard and presented her eye to the retinal tube; her heart was pounding so hard it took a second try before she could hold still enough for the laser to get a good map and confirm that it was in fact her.

Giving a cheery but distracted wave to the chuckling driver, she took the bulky carton back into her apartment. Her ceramic knife made quick work of the plastic box, and she set both it and the cushioning gel sack aside; she’d put them in the recycling hopper, but later. Nothing short of a fire would keep her from hooking this up right now.

What she held was a disk, a small black box, and a headband attached to a thin cable. What she held in her hands was a reward for driving herself to put in punishing hours to produce work that was not only excellent but inspired; the contract was lucrative but she knew that if she delivered far more than would satisfy them it would be a serious boost to her career, and so she had actually managed to create an insurance company webspace that was a genuine pleasure to visit. She’d been surprised when they gave her a hefty bonus, but even through the shock she’d instantly known what it would buy.

And now she held it in her hands...a Hitachi direct neural interface for her computer. The technology had existed for years, but up until very recently it had been so prohibitively expensive that only pilots and cutting-edge surgeons and the disgustingly wealthy had ever had a chance to use it; the cost still took one’s breath away, but she had wanted this even before it was developed, and now it was hers. She told herself that as well as a dream come true it would make her work more efficient, more of a joy; but she laughed at herself as she pushed the rationalization away. She wanted it, she could afford it, it was hers.

As she slotted the black box into the rack of her home system, she glanced over at her complete immersion suit, hanging on its rack: the Rubber Maiden, as she called it. Never again would she have to force herself into its clingy embrace, blush at the feel of inserting its probes within her when she wanted some casual, guaranteed disease-free cybersex. She laughed, and pointedly turned her back upon it, as if it were an abusive lover who’d been replaced by a better man.

The ingrained reflex of the true technology aficionado had her almost casting the instruction manual onto the couch unread, but she stopped herself. This is, after all, my brain, she thought. But as she dutifully paged through the manual, she found that she only needed to make sure the headband fit comfortably and let the software do the rest; it made sense, she supposed, that a company that would sell this would make it as safe and as idiot-proof as possible. To do otherwise would be to invite ruinous litigation.

Smoothing the headband into place, she fired up the installation software; she nodded in satisfaction as the security software on her system remained a reassuring green. When she’d worked out the contract with the firm, she’d felt certain that reducing her fee in return for the service would be a wise idea, and in fact it had paid for itself many times over. And then the world seemed to fall away; this was far more compelling than even the Rubber Maiden experience, because there was no preparation, she didn’t become a blind, enclosed thing and then become part of the other world...it was simply there.

Her marveling was cut short as a tutorial program started and a blandly, androgynously beautiful figure began discoursing on the wonders in store for her. It must have sensed her mild irritation, as it paused and began getting right to helpful specifics with some degree of technical detail, and her admiration for the manufacturer increased. But then, they’re making enough off these to want to pull out all the stops...it’s like buying a Ferrari used to be. She listened intently, asked a few questions, and nodded in satisfaction to learn that, since her physical body would not respond to her mental impulses unless the logout sequence was activated, she had only to think the word “bugout” to shut the device down immediately. This was followed by a sequence of tuning; strange sensations flashed through her, and then everything became almost hyperreal...simply more vivid than reality itself.

She laughed with glee as the tutorial space faded and she found herself in the grassy meadow of her online office. Reveling in the feel of the grass beneath her bare feet, she summoned the armoire that housed her collection of virtual reality skins; after rifling past a few, her lips curved into a wicked grin and she pulled on what she called her Bombshell. Turning from the armoire, she created a mirror before her, turning and admiring the way the blue satin sheath clung to curves based on her own, but idealized, and wiggled to feel the tight dress caress her. She batted thick, dark lashes over liquid blue eyes, tossed her head to throw curls that glowed with a faint, subtle golden inner light, and then made a gun of her two fingers and pointed it at her reflection. “Time to go hunting,” she said.

And with the nudge of a thought, her office faded, replaced by a small foyer, agressively modern in gleaming obsidian and flowing chrome. Blood-red neon spelled out “TAWDRY” above the door before her, and as always the name of this, her favorite online pickup spot, made her chuckle. Too many online bars, like their counterparts in reality, had names that were aggressively boring or some puerile faux-naughty pun, but this place was unabashed and yet remained a cut above.

As she passed the door and prowled into the intimately lit space beyond, she reflected that the same could be said of the patrons of this establishment. The avatars that sat upon lush leather barstools and strode across the black tile floor were as skillfully rendered as the space they inhabited, with all of the subtle details that made off-the-rack skins, no matter how conventionally handsome or beautiful, look like Barbie and Ken dolls come to life. And with Lisa’s new interface, it was all intoxicatingly clear and immediate. This must be what lucid dreaming is like, she thought.

She smiled as she cut her way through the crowd, pleased as always at the way her skin drew glances both appreciative and wistful. She made her way to the bar and climbed onto a stool, eyes scanning the crowd in the mirror behind the bar. Tawdry’s software didn’t allow invisible eyes in the back of the head or any of the other gimmicks that proliferated in other online hangouts, but even though a great deal of her life was lived on the wires, Lisa prided herself on not losing touch with those “old-fashioned” tricks that still worked so well. Tried and true, she thought, tried and true.

She let her gaze wander over various patrons, but before long the assessment was gone, the vibrancy of her sensations so novel still that she was distracted; even the feel of the padded leather rail beneath her wrists was compelling. Her eyes drank in the sight of people who looked more naturally beautiful than nature could ever allow as well as gorgeous creatures in color and textures never to exist in the world outside...until she felt a gentle tap on her hand.

Looking down, she saw an inky void, faintly lit from within by dim pinpoints and smears of light, in the shape of a hand; turning her head, she looked and found that the stool beside her had been claimed by a man who presented himself as a human-shaped pocket of space. Constellations speckled his skin, and his eyes were the swirl of spiral galaxies, slowly rotating as he returned her gaze; she admired the effect even as she noted that it took some small effort to discern his features, make out the small smile he wore. In her appraising gaze she noted that rather than spoil the effect with any clothing or hide his cock he was presenting as nude, but she decided that as another feature of his void it was far more restrained, even tasteful, than many whose skins had only enough clothing to draw attention to what lay beneath.

When he spoke, beneath his words was the faintest crackle of static, just enough to give his voice a quality not unlike huskiness, and again she admired a touch that was distinctive, but subtle. “You’ve just gotten a neural interface,” he said.

“How did you know?”

He grinned at that, and the sight of his teeth was almost shocking, framed as they were in the black gulfs of space. “You have the look of someone who’s seeing all this for the first time, but from your skin,” and at this he returned her appreciative looking-over, “it’s plain this isn’t your first visit to Tawdry. And I must confess that in my line of work I see this a lot.”

“Your line of work?”

“Yes,” he chuckled, “I do development for Hitachi.”

Lisa arched one eyebrow and let a grin slowly creep across her lips. “You don’t say,” she drawled.

“I do say,” he replied, then laughed softly. “But don’t worry, I’m not going to try and tell you about the undocumented features.”

She felt her grin grow wider. “But what if you’ve piqued my curiosity?”

He gave a shake of his head and an apologetic grin. “Then I’ll have to apologize. Really, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Lisa kept her features composed while she considered this. She didn’t buy for a moment that this was anything but a ploy on his part, but as ploys went it was both different and tactful as well as crafty. When she took this into account along with the attention to detail in his skin and the sense of quiet charm she felt from him, she decided that he was indeed good material for the fling she’d come to hunt. Reaching out, she took his ebon hand in hers, rising from her stool as she locked her eyes onto those swirling pools of stars and said “But I insist. We’ll go to a private room so your secrets will be safe from prying ears.”

Leading him across the dance floor, she made her way to the back of the club and through another doorway, the software automatically routing her to one of the private spaces she owned as a member. When the gate had sealed itself behind them, she waited a moment to let her own system confirm that no one else had been able to sneak themselves or any bugging software in with them, and then turned to her visitor.

She smiled as she saw him taking in the mellow, sourceless light, the rounded, combed plaster walls and rattan furniture of an idealized 1930’s Morocco, complete with a balcony overlooking a nighttime street scene that would run for a full two hours before looping again. She took a deep breath in anticipation of what was to unfold, and savored the rich smells of the ocean and the African night, far richer than anything the scent rigs in the Rubber Maiden’s helmet had ever provided.

When his eyes had completed their scan of the room and turned to her, she gave him a devilish grin and asked “Like what you see?”

He answered her with a grin of his own, and reached out to take her hand; at his touch, Lisa felt some electric current race from his flesh through her own, and the twin galaxies of his eyes seemed to strobe at different speeds. Something quietly and painlessly detonated inside her mind, and she gasped at the sensation, alien and inexplicable, unutterable, but no less intense for that.

Gasping, she pulled her hand away and stepped back; despite the absence of any warning flash, she silently summoned her security monitor in the corner of her eye, but everything was a steady green. Looking back at him, she asked, voice a little shaky, “What the hell was that?”

He only nodded, as if her query had been the answer to some question of his own, then rapidly but clearly rattled off “Do not log out, do not think the word ‘bugout,’ do not attempt to contact anyone in any way.”

This was so incongruous that for a moment she opened her mouth only to find no words; he continued “Be silent until I give permission to speak again,” and Lisa’s mouth shut with an almost audible snap. Some distant corner of her mind was surprised to feel that the palms of her avatar weren’t sweaty with the fear that was blooming in her as she found herself powerless to say a single word.

Perhaps he saw the panic in her eyes, because his grin grew wider as he said “I know you’re thinking something got past your firewall. And in a way you’re right; it’s set up to detect software that will attempt malicious acts on your computer...but what I’ve done is feed in standard Sensorium Protocol data that just happened to be directed at that other operating system...the one inside your head.

“That’s right, dear, I’ve just hacked your brain.”

He paused to let those words sink in, and Lisa felt her heart begin to pound. She couldn’t speak, but she did moan as he commanded “Present in your true appearance and turn around once for me.” Helpless to resist, she exchanged her Bombshell skin for the one she used to meet with family and friends, slowly turning in a circle, feeling his gaze crawling over her; she stopped, facing him once more, wondering how this could have all turned so quickly.

“Take off your pants,” he said, and with a whimper she unbutoned her fly, opening the garment and pushing it down over pale thighs, reflexively taking a step back as she left it on the floor, her hands moving to cover the white triangle of her panties. At this those ebon features arranged themselves into a slight frown, and he stepped closer, whispering “Do not try to cover yourself in any way. Spread your feet shoulder width apart.” Again she moved to obey, trembling, already feeling so exposed.

“Take off that shirt. And your bra,” he added as she pulled the hem up over her chest. She dropped the plain blue t-shirt onto her jeans, then reached behind to undo the clasp, her breasts hanging free as she removed her bra; she hated how her nipples stood so erect, thinking how she must look as her breasts swayed when she bent to add the bra to the pile of clothing before her.

“Put your hand down your panties and start fingering your clit...slave.” The words jerked a sob from her even as she slid a hand past the elastic, fingers carefully spreading her velvet folds as she began to rub at the sensitive nub of flesh. She shut her eyes tight, and so she gasped with surprise to feel his arms sliding around her, his hands cupping her breasts, his thumbs toying with her nipples.

He remained silent for what felt like an eternity, his hands casually making use of her, possessing her as she felt her body betray her, react to the sensation of his touch and her own. When he finally commanded “Give me the password to your account here,” it was traitorous pleasure at least as much as her loss of control that made her moan as she responded “nougat.”

Suddenly there was a table before her, her mind barely registering its appearance as black hands clamped over her wrists, pulling them behind her back; the wooden edge of the table bit into her thighs as she was pushed forward, bent over, her breasts crushed beneath her. She struggled against his grip until he hissed “Do not resist” into her ear, and again she could only obey as he stretched her arms to the sides, brought leather cuffs on chains to close over her wrists; she whimpered as he bound her ankles to the table legs as well, her thighs parted, and she felt shame burning hot in her cheeks as she imagined how she might appear to an onlooker.

Her whimpers became more plaintive as his fingers slipped under the crotch of her panties, and she hated that he must be able to feel how wet she was, hated that some unsuspected part of her seemed to be enjoying this. She went hunting, she was not the hunted..or so she had always believed. She could feel the muscles in her thighs trembling beneath his touch as he tugged the panties down, stretching until they bunched around her knees, and the knowledge of her utter helplessness and exposure only fanned the flames of her strange new desire.

She moaned again at the feel of a velvet cockhead brushing against her damp petals, and couldn’t help but move her hips, trying to press back against it; her moans abruptly became a shocked gasp as she felt a hand seizing a fistful of her hair, and she opened her eyes to see him...god, she’d never even gotten his handle, she realized...standing before her, rubbing his cock over her dry lips. She looked back and saw him there behind her as well, watched and felt as he clamped his hands onto her hips, and she wondered if he’d twinned his avatar or if two people in identical skins were preparing to use her. A groan escaped her as she realized she hoped it was the latter, and then the low sound of need became a muffled squeal as a cock thrust into her mouth even as another buried itself in her steaming cunt.

She thrashed as best her bound form was able as she was pounded between the two cocks, the stiff rosy peaks of her nipples rubbing against the table beneath her; some trick of the environment kept two little patches beneath the sensitive nubs feeling like a fine sandpaper, the small circles always moving with her, stimulating only her nipples as she writhed. Some part of her wordlessly reveled in perceiving that the hard shafts thrusting into her were not in time, that two people were simply taking her, and she began to swallow, milking the cock forced into her throat like the velvet walls of her cunt clung and gripped the cock invading her from behind. She found the lust inside her raging higher at the brutality of it, the pain in her scalp as her head was held in place, the feel of the bruises forming beneath the viselike fingers on her hips taking her to some place inside herself; she didn’t wonder if this had always been simmering beneath her thoughts, didn’t look into her past for any signs that pointed to this, didn’t speculate on whether it was as artificial as her helpless obedience...she didn’t think of anything, only felt. Felt and reveled in the moment. She screamed around the cock in her throat as the sensations raced past any control, shuddering to feel her cunt twitching, feel herself gushing as raw pleasure slammed through her body. Time seemed to stop as she came and came and came...only to have the crystalline moment shatter to feel the flesh buried within her erupting. And when they had both cum inside her, when both cocks had pulsed and filled her with boiling, sticky seed, she moaned with loss to feel the flesh being withdrawn from her...only to gasp out a breathy chuckle of delight, surprising even herself, as they switched places and took her again.

When they had spilled themselves within her again, she had time and presence now to wonder what would happen to her, to feel the lingering glow of pleasure give way to fear; she cried out when one of the two reached down to take a fistful of her hair, forced her to look up and meet those swirling starry eyes.

“Speak your full name and your physical address,” he commanded, and she shivered even as she obeyed.

“Lisa Jane Swanson, 8826 North Damen Apartment Twelve, Chicago, Illinois, 64641.”

He laughed at that, then said “How convenient. It is a small world after all.

“Listen carefully, slave. When I tell you, you will log out. You will not attempt to leave your apartment or contact anyone. You will wait there...and when someone comes to your door, you will answer. Do you understand?”

Unable to summon any words still, she simply licked her dry lips and nodded.

“Very well, then. Log out.”

And the room that was once hers faded, replaced with her apartment. She tore the headband away, and then turned to the door. Try as she might, she could not convince herself that the pounding of her heart was entirely fear.