The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Suddenly, Jessie was awake again.

The first thing she knew was that she couldn’t move. The second thing she knew, as she tried to cry out, was that there was something in her mouth, silencing her. The third thing she knew was that she felt somehow … different.

Breathing slowly to calm herself, Jessie tried to think. What on earth was going on? She could feel her arms were at full stretch. Turning her head, she could see that her wrists were secured with manacles, attached to—something. A wooden structure of some sort. A gentle tug revealed no give whatsoever. Straining hard, she confirmed this to be the case.

Her legs were spread wide, and looking down she saw that there was something similar going on with her ankles. Most extraordinarily, Jessie saw she was encased in what felt like a full skin-tight bodysuit of some kind. It looked like a very glossy latex-like material, with an unfamiliar high sheen to it. She could feel the suit extending all the way up to her chin, over her arms, to the tips of her fingers, and over her whole body, down to her toes. Wiggling her fingers, she felt no resistance, so it must, she thought, be very thin.

At the same time, she could feel it cinching her waist, tightly, and her full breasts looked like polished black globes below her chin. The suit made them feel larger, heavier somehow.

Shaking her head, she could feel her long hair had been pulled back into a tight ponytail. Strangely, this brought a particular shock of dislocation. Jessie never wore her hair up like that.

The room was quiet and windowless.

Jessie had almost got used to the blackouts, the lost hours, days, weekends.

First, the hours. She had woken up to find herself in strange places, unfamiliar parts of town, with no idea of how she’d got there. Jessie put it down to daydreaming, and didn’t really worry, although sometimes when she examined the items she’d bought in those hours she was a little troubled.

Then came the days. The first time Jessie realised she’d lost an entire day was when she woke up to find a huge vinelike tattoo winding its way around up her left leg, round her thigh and up to her buttock, where it terminated in a vivid flowerburst. Turning in the mirror, she wondered what on earth had possessed her to do this, although she had to admit it was very striking.

Then there was the occasional, and then frequent, waking up with strange men, in strange beds. She could only assume she had been drinking too much, and resolved to curb it at once, but even so, this really wasn’t like her at all. She always just grabbed her clothes and ran for it, cheeks burning. She never called them back.

Then came the weekends. One time, she had woken suddenly in the very act of sex, and squealed to find a stranger’s cock in her mouth. He’d asked her what was the matter? After all, he’d said, she’d been willing enough to suck him off for the last two days, and his friends too, in fact she couldn’t get enough of it—so what was the big deal all of a sudden? She had no explanation. She finished the job out of some misplaced sense of dignity, and left, in turmoil.

Now this. The blackouts were getting longer every time. How long had she been here, like this?

She could deal with most of it, although she had now, finally, decided she needed to see someone. That weird encounter in the bar a few weeks back had really shaken Jessie up. A real wake up call.

“Your hair looks different,” he said. “But I prefer it the other way.” He was looking at her intently, smiling.

Jessie eyed the guy standing beside her. What was he talking about?

“I’m sorry,” she replied, polite but firm. “You must be mistaken. I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

“Come off it,” he said. “I’d know you anywhere, particularly after that night. Never seen anything like it. D’you fancy a repeat performance?” He leaned in, suggestively.

“What? No, I’m serious. Who the hell are you and what are you saying?”

“Ah—look, I’m sorry. Do you have a twin, or a sister, or something?” he asked, puzzled. “I could have sworn—“

Jessie shook her head angrily. “No. No twin. No sister. Now get lost, you’re creeping me out.”

She felt disturbed, angry, fretful. Back home, she booked an appointment with the first available doctor, wondering how on earth she would explain any of this.

Jessie stretched and wriggled in her bondage. She told herself she mustn’t panic. More than anything else, the lack of information was stressing her out. Another lost weekend. Where? When? How long? What? How?

She looked around at the room. Bare brick walls. A solid-looking door. Pleasant low-key lighting. A sumptuous looking bed. A heavy chair. Unfamiliar things on the walls. Something she couldn’t quite make out, in the shadows of the far corner.

She tried to stay calm. She listened to herself breathe, quietening her racing pulse, trying not to speculate about the things on the walls.

At last, minutes or hours later, a man entered the room. Tall, green eyes, dark hair, unfamiliar. Who -

For a while, he just looked at her, silent, appraising. Jessie stared at him, wide eyed.

Then suddenly, he was close. He rand his hands slowly over the smooth surface of her breasts, first one, then another, and then over her buttocks. Jessie thrilled to the unexpected shock of the touch. Her skin felt—what was the word?—hypersensitised, and Jessie was suddenly, startlingly aware that in spite of herself she was instantly as aroused as she had ever been. It was as if a switch had been flipped. She had never felt anything like it.

He reached down and stroked her between her legs. Jessie squirmed, instincts conflicted, but there was so little movement afforded by her restraints that this only exacerbated the effect. He pressed his hand against her, and she gasped. The feeling was so—

“Good,” he said. “It seems to be fully bonded to the skin now. A most interesting material.”

A quiet click, down there, and suddenly she felt delicious cool air on the lips of her pussy. Jessie could feel she was in heat. She didn’t want to be. But there was no helping it.

She let out a soft moan as something was pushed inside her, then pushed deeper. It began to vibrate. Jessie clenched her jaw and tried not to come. Another soft click, and she was closed again.

The man stepped back, seemingly satisfied.

“When you came to me,” he said, “I asked you what you wanted, because you can never make a person do what they don’t want to do. You told me, precisely and with unusual clarity. And here we are.”

Jessie didn’t understand. The words made no sense to her, and it was becoming hard to pay attention, with the vibration inside her and the unfamiliar, unbidden feelings running through her body. She squeezed on it, feeling its length and breadth, and tried to listen.

“The measurements are perfect, aren’t they? And what a transformation! I assume you are enjoying yourself, so far? Well, I know you are. Would you like to see?”

He slid open a panel on the opposite wall, revealing a large mirror, and Jessie suddenly saw herself, fully. It was stunning. She hardly recognised herself.

The first reason why she didn’t recognise herself was that the suit was an absolutely perfect, skin tight fit. In fact she looked exactly naked, except for the fact that she wasn’t. It accentuated every inch of her curves into a clearly defined hourglass figure, the type she could only ever have dreamed of. It must have taken six inches off her waist, and her round hips now swelled luxuriously below that. Her legs looked fantastic—if she saw it right, the suit ended seamlessly in built-in six inch heels. Above, her breasts bulged out proudly, full and round and high, the nipples prominent, and—

- wait.

They were bigger. Much bigger. How -

The second reason why Jessie didn’t recognise herself was that she looked completely different.

Jessie goggled at her reflection in the mirror. That was not her face. Her face did not have those ridiculously full red lips, that nose, those cheekbones. And the eyes, although still brown, were slightly different too, wider somehow. She never wore that much eye makeup. She never wore that much lipstick. And her hair was dark, not this bright platinum blonde. What trick was this? She stared, unable to comprehend what she was looking at.

“The last few months have been very interesting indeed,” said the man. “I’ve seldom come across such a willing subject, nor such an arresting result. You will be very much in demand. Now let’s see what we have in store for the next phase.”

In spite of her arousal, Jessie began to thrash in renewed panic and confusion.

“Ah, resistance,” said the man. “Amusing. Remember when we spoke; you asked me to show you something, if you became confused.”

He clicked a remote, and the TV on the wall came to life.

Jessie saw her own face, her true face, looking out at her.

There was no doubt that this recording was her, Jessie. She gazed out of the screen, clear eyed and calm, and Jessie-in-bonds stared right back at her own familiar self as she spoke.

“Is this recording now? OK.”

Jessie-on-screen licked her lips. Jessie wracked her memory, but found nothing there. But it was her. It had to be.

“I am recording this of my own free will in case, at any time in the future, you find me becoming confused about my wishes. Remember, there is no confusion. I am very clear about my wishes. If you find me becoming confused, I would ask you to play this to me, to remind me.

“If I become confused, please ignore me. You know my wishes very well, now, even if occasionally I may forget them. So if I start to talk nonsense, please silence me. If I become uncompliant, please punish me, until I am compliant again. I have asked you to execute my wishes, by whatever means you deem necessary, and I fully accept your experience and authority in such matters. If I appear to resist, you know that I am not really resisting, only pretending to resist in order to gain sweet punishment from you.

“So if I suddenly seem to object to any element of the process, remember that I am not really objecting at all. After all, how could I object to my own wishes and desires? In any case, our contract and this recording now overrides any and all such hypothetical future objections.

“You know my wishes. You know my desires.”

Jessie-on-screen leaned in close to the camera, intense. “I want to be free. Set me free.”

The screen went black.

“There,” he said, turning to her. “Please do not be confused. It is all just as you wanted, and just as we agreed.”

He half turned, indicating some of the strange items hanging on the wall. “We have achieved much together. Now, we will need to train you, thoroughly. This I guarantee you will enjoy. Then you will be able to perform to your full potential.”

He paused, remembering something. “Ah yes, of course. And I also need to think of a name.”

The doctor had been reassuring enough. It wasn’t uncommon, she said, even if some of the behaviours were unusual.

Was she stressed at work? Tired? Yes. Her career was demanding, and she was in line for making partner, but the pressure and the responsibilities did often leave her wired and unable to unwind.

How was her personal life? Any relationship troubles? Well, she was single, had been since Nick had left, and she hadn’t been with anyone since. Actually, now you mention it, that’s when all this had started. And yes, come to think of it, she had been with a few men, but y’know, that was what she was here to talk about.

Drugs? No. Did she drink alcohol? How much? Not enough to account for these blackouts, she thought, but she would cut it out completely if that’s what it took.

Was she happy in her life generally? She was happy enough, she thought. How do you ever tell?

What was the last event she’d experienced?

Oh God, it was so embarrassing. She’d been out for three days. Aside from all else, she’d woken up in the sort of clothes she wouldn’t have dreamed of wearing normally, and she’d ended up having to make her way home in the early morning dark dressed like a cheap hooker. But that wasn’t the worst of it. She’d also managed to get her other ass cheek tattooed, which wasn’t so bad in itself, except for the fact that whilst her left buttock displayed an artful swirl of flowers, her right now boasted in stark black two-inch sans serif capitals a single word: ‘slut’. Standing and dropping her jeans, she showed the doctor. An odd impulse, agreed the doctor, but she’d seen worse.

But no, that wasn’t the worst of it either. Her cheeks burned to think of what he had told her before she’d left.

“I don’t remember too much about last night,” she’d said. “I’m not very good with drink.” After a few of these blackouts, she’d alighted on this tactic as a way of getting information. It always worked. Sometimes too well.

“You don’t remember? Really?” he’d replied, puzzled. “Well, you approached me, remember. You asked me if I wanted to see your tattoo. I said sure, and you showed me, right there and then.”

“The flowers?”

“Sure. But it was the other one you wanted me to see. I asked you why you’d had it done.”

“And what did I say?”

“You leaned in and whispered in my ear,” he’d replied, “and I quote: ‘Because I’m the dirtiest little slut you will ever meet, and I want you to know it. I want everyone to know it.’”

He’d paused, looking at her. She could see he was turned on. Jessie had said nothing, although her stomach was doing cartwheels. He leaned over until his lips brushed her ear.

“And then you whispered, just like this, ‘You can do anything to me, anything at all. You can fuck me ’til I scream and I’ll still scream for more. I’ll suck you ’til you can’t take any more. I want you to fuck me like a bitch in heat. Treat me like the slut I am.’

“And then, you just stood back and looked at me, all innocent and expectant.”

As he whispered, he’d stroked her buttock, the one that read ‘slut’. She would have run, but she had to know.

“Shall I go on? OK. Good memories…”

She had, the way he told it, been completely insatiable, as advertised.

He said she’d wanted him to tie her up, and he did, and she had wriggled and squealed and thrashed like a wild animal as he did her, first in one position, then another, and finally face down with her slut ass upturned to him.

He said she’d insisted he did her again, bent over the table, in the kitchen, with the blinds open, in full view of the street. Why shouldn’t everyone know what I am, she’d said.

He said she had made him stand against the bedroom wall while her mouth worked its magic, and then, still not satisfied, she had made him put a dog’s lead on her while she went at it again, and again, with renewed abandon.

He had insisted she take his number before she went.

The doctor gave her a prescription for something she’d never heard of, and told her not to go out tonight, even if it was Friday, and to rest up that weekend.

She made her way home, took her pills, had a secret glass of wine and a slice of yesterday’s pizza, and went to sleep at 9.05pm exactly.

It was quite a while before Jessie woke up again.

After a while, the man had unshackled her and left her alone in the room—her room, now, he’d said, firmly locking the door behind him.

He had removed her gag, but for reasons inaccessible to her, Jessie stayed quiet. She just didn’t feel like screaming. What she did feel was dazed, shaken to her core. Apparently she had recorded a message to herself, from herself, an unequivocal statement, and she remembered nothing whatsoever about it. Had she done it? She didn’t know.

What she did know was that every inch of her skin, her whole body, was thrumming with a strange and unfamiliar pulse of pleasure.

The material on her skin, he had explained, was a remarkable thing, almost organic, but not quite. How could he put it? It was not merely aesthetically pleasing, but it also magnified the sensations of touch, exponentially.

She examined herself in the big mirror. Up close, she was even more different than she had at first appreciated.

Up close, the material, whatever it was, looked sprayed on. Except for the cinching at her waist, and the heels, it was just like a very high gloss paint job, completely seamless except for a fine line at her labia. She tugged there, experimentally, but there was no give. She had not expected any. Electro-permanent magnets, he had explained. On or off, locked or unlocked. Simple.

The material was not to be removed, now it had bonded, he’d said.

She hefted her breasts. They were solid, gravity defying, the nipples huge and stiff, and the combination of these, her cinched waist, and her full, round butt gave her the look of a cartoon wet dream come to life, a sex toy, and with a shock, Jessie realised that was exactly how she felt.

She struggled to see herself in this new face. The lips were too big, too red, puffed up into a permanent pout. She rubbed at them, but no lipstick smeared. Tattooed, he had explained, just like her eyes. It saved a lot of makeup time, he thought. Jessie undid her hair and shook her long, now platinum blonde, locks free.

She felt fractured, dissociated, looking at this self that was not a self. If someone had invented a doll to look like a whore, and then brought it to life, this would be it, thought Jessie. And that was exactly how she felt.

But still Jessie couldn’t resist the temptation to touch herself. She ran her hands over her breasts, over her belly, over her buttocks, over and over, every nerve ending alive with joy.

And as soon as she began to touch herself, she couldn’t stop. She lay down on the bed, lost in ecstasy. As she stroked her hands all over her hypersensitised body she was flooded with sensations she had never experienced before. Everywhere was an erogenous zone, now, and her former erogenous zones now felt supercharged beyond measure.

At the lightest caress of a nipple, Jessie came, and came again.

If I become confused, please ignore me.

“Please! You have to let me go,” she had screamed at him. “I don’t know anything about this! That wasn’t me, this isn’t me, it must be some kind of mistake!”

“There is no confusion,” he murmured, considering a selection of collars.

“You have to get this thing off me, put me back to normal!” she had yelled, struggling against her chains, burning with unwanted, uncontrollable arousal. “Why are you doing this? I never asked for this! This isn’t me!”

“Don’t make me gag you,” he replied, as he stroked her breasts with a riding crop. “I need your mouth available.”

If I become uncompliant, please punish me, until I am compliant again… If I appear to resist, you know that I am not really resisting, only pretending to resist in order to gain sweet punishment from you.

Jessie-on-screen had been very clear indeed on this point.

There had been a lot of punishment, and she had screamed silently for long hours as her hypersensitised skin elevated every whiplash to an epiphany. And after the pain, always the pleasure, until one became the other, and she could no longer tell them apart. Afterwards, examining her behind in the mirror, Jessie saw the smooth black curve of her buttocks was completely unmarked. She stroked it, relishing the resultant shiver of pleasure.

If I suddenly seem to object to any element of the process, remember that I am not really objecting at all. After all, how could I object to my own wishes and desires?”

There was no argument. She had said these words. Her face, her voice, her desires. How could she object? At night, in her room, as she brought herself to orgasm over and over again, her own unremembered words ran round her mind in an endless loop.

If I start to talk nonsense, please silence me.

Her own words, replayed on screen a number of times, until he had finally lost patience.

“Please!” she cried, as he made her come for the twentieth time that day.

Now, in accordance with her wishes, he’d said, he had silenced her. The operation on her vocal chords had been simple, quick, and painless, and, he said, it would stop her nonsense for good.

I want to be free. Set me free.

I would have explained, but of course while Jessie was awake, I was asleep, and vice versa.

In the cool quiet of my room, I am kneeling in front of him, compliant. My skin feels deliciously alive. He has unlocked my pussy, as he occasionally does, and it throbs in anticipation of what is to come.

My breasts are as they should be, firm and high and round. They want to be touched. They exist to be touched. My figure is as I have always dreamed it to be, in the long dark hours of sleep. And I am just loving these heels.

My eyes are wide and dark and inviting. My lips are ripe and plump and red, and their purpose is clear. My mouth craves him. My tongue yearns to lick him. My hair is tied back, tightly, as we both like it to be.

Mister Talv has yet to decide on a name, but I believe today may be the day.

Jessie is asleep again, now. I don’t know when she will wake up again, or what she will find when she does, or what will happen. I’m hoping she may come round to my point of view anyway.

Twins are interesting, aren’t they? So similar, yet always so different.

Some twins are born late. I guess I’m just trying to make up for lost time.