The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Madison stared out the window of her office for a long moment before pivoting on the black pumps adorning her feet to face the new case sitting in a chair across her desk. Unless in the bedroom she had to wear high heels, had to, and despite knowing it pleased her husband, he had commanded her when they met to be content with it, she still knew that it was one of the things they could not deprogram out of her. Some of her conditioning had been so deep they gave up and just hoped the girl could adjust to free society.

The counselor, who had just turned 32 a week before, had finally become accustomed to her new life in the free, but rather heavily fortified, Californian State. She was forever grateful to her rescuers for saving her from a life in the North East as a bubble brained sex slave of the man who had brainwashed and married her sister. But, turning to smile at the girl, she was a free girl now and a free girl choose to do her job to the best of her ability. Independence meant deciding to please.

The girl in her office right now had been deprogrammed and finally begun the recovery process. Her hair was still a mess from where she yanked out patches and a bruise on her face was still healing from where she had fought with the soldier who tried to help her escape. The horror she felt upon realizing how actively the girl had fought to stay enslaved brought her to a mental break, which took a month and a suicide attempt to get past.

The girl looked around and then nervously eyed Miranda. She was incredibly nervous and extremely paranoid now. A woman whom she had sought out while trying to recover her sister, she found out recently, was actually an agent of those who had brainwashed the girl. On command from her future master, the man that despite herself she still had feelings for, the woman betrayed her to him, which led to her capture and transformation into his love struck sex slave. What if this woman was also one of them? Or for someone else?

Miranda smiled reassuringly. She knew and remembered deeply that look. The white-blond counselor began telling parts of her own story. After being separated when America fell apart, her sister had ended up in the Northeast where she had “won” The Winning Collar in her community the second year. How she found out about it, she barely remember anymore, but after going back to try and rescue her sister Miranda was captured, brainwashed, and prostituted by her master. This went on for a few years and she worked morning and night to obey and please the man she loved.

While out on assignment in a club on the border of the next new state, there was some fighting between states. During an invasion, her club had been raided and the girls there taken away. Miranda was taken with the other girls and put into stasis trances so they could be transfered to the new California. where this center had been founded to treat deprogrammed girls like herself. It took some time, but eventually she was rehabilitated enough to be put into a school and taught skills of her choosing. Some of the mental, and all of psychichal, changes, however, could not be corrected.

Wanting to give back, Miranda had choose to go to school for counseling to help other girls like her. She had, one late night doing research, hooked up with one of her professors, who became her lover and eventually master and husband. She was an individual and as an individual, the blond knew she could not be alone or on her own. She acquiesced to her husband freely and pleased him in all things, which included doing her job to the best of her ability at all times.

The girl listened and occasionally commended as Miranda opened up to her. She still had the paranoid look and was not going to open up herself without, reluctantly, some assistance. Standing up, the counselor waved her platinum blond, as her husband liked it right now after a year of being a redhead, hair out of her face. Her beach ball sized breasts were hugged by a sweater dress. The sky high black pumps on her feet made her shapely legs look even longer than the abbreviated dress did.

She smiled again, a kind look mirrored in her blue eyes. “I think you have a long way to go before you can make progress.” The counselor pressed a pink tipped nail on a button under her desk as she came around it.

Shaking her head sadly, Miranda pressed the tip of a nail against a button under the desk. Bands snapped out of the girl’s chair and locked her in place via her hands and legs. She screamed out, but stopped as the chair turned to face the wall, where a hypnotic spiral played on a large screen. It was a retrofitted version of one of the ones used on her in the initial brainwashing she received after capture and worked effectively to passify her.

wireless ear buds

Miranda knew, as the girl began to recite the mantras she saw on the screen, that this would only partially work. The blond beauty looked at herself in a mirror across the room as the girl was hypnotized and remembered her own trick inducement and how it helped force her to where she was now, but her need to serve and please was so ingrained it could not be absolutely deprogrammed out. She assumed this girl would be the same. It wasn’t as easy as the television shows she remembered from her childhood.

After a few minutes, once it was clear the girl was deeply indoctrinated, an intern, who started working with them after her sister was taken last year, came along and took the entranced girl, after Miranda disengaged the restraints, off for further training. An hour or two would have her under control and ready to accept the long road to independence.

Miranda spent the afternoon inputting her notes from the day and then dealing with some other tasks. When her tasks for the day were done she had permission from her boss to work on a post for a weblog about survivors of brainwashing and their loved ones. She was one of five authors who wrote once a week during the week. Their weblog had numerous fans and she received a lot of mail from not only survivors, but their families. Miranda had even been consulted on a television series last year because of it,.

Near the end of the day, she tidied up, another deeply conditioned need, and swayed down the hall to her bosses office. The black pumps on her feet echoed in the carpetless corridor. Her mind had been psychologically programmed and her body surgically altered so that she could not leave the bedroom without wearing them and deprogramming did not fix it. She did not tell people, but part of her was glad because of the way it accentuate her feminine appearance, which pleased both herself in her own personal way and more importantly her husband.

She gently knocked at his door. “Sir, my duties are done for the day. May I return home to please my husband?” Miranda lowered her eyes automatically before her superior.

The blond bombshell’s boss, Mr. Cullen, looked up and smiled at the girl. The older man had been a psychologist before America’s fall and put his experience to work every day at the counseling center. He generally wanted to support the girls and did not, at least in Miranda’s, case, take advantage of their conditioned submission, even after deprogramming, all that much. “Yes, of course, Miranda.”

He then put a finger up and stood, coming around the desk to where Miranda stood. “I have someone I want you to meet.” A moment later, the side door of his office that connected to a meeting room for executive staff opened and the girl from earlier entered. She smiled softly and blissfully, her eyes never leaving the man. Her hair had been cut short to alleviate the places where she had yanked it out and her pale face shown from the classy makeup that adorned it. An ankle length dress, snug in the right places, housed her body as did brand new shiny black pumps like Miranda’s on her feet.

“This is Kimmi, who you met earlier under unfortunate circumstances. She has decided to stay here and work hard at becoming an independent young lady.”

Kimmi looked towards Miranda. “Mrs. Jefferson, I look forward to your assistance in my independence. You are a wonderful role model for how an independent woman should be.”

Miranda nodded, unsure what to say about that, but gave her boss a quizzical look. She noticed the name tag on the girl’s dress. “Are you going to be working with us, Kimmi?”

“Yes!” Kimmi proudly announced, her classy red lips beaming, “I will be a good worker like you.” Before Miranda could stop her, the girl hugged her.

Their boss came forward and put a hand on Kimmi’s arm, which made her pull away. “Okay, let Mrs. Jefferson get home to her husband.” He made eye contact and nodded, approving of Miranda’s work today. “Good night Mrs. Jefferson.”

Miranda swayed out of the room and said good night to other workers before entering the elevator down the hard. Once the blond slave was in the hall, Kimmi closed their bosses’ door and knelt before him by her own choice, without command, smiling up at the man who would teach her to be the most independent woman possible.

Miranda drove the speed limited, and rather carefully, on the way home. After being deprogrammed, she had to relearned to drive, amongst other things, so it was still difficult for her. She was cautious and did not want to make a mistake. Her car had a special sticker on it notifying other drivers that she was still relearning to drive. Eventually, she arrived at home.

Upon entering the house, she changed out of her work clothes and into the skimpy maid uniform she wore in the evening. Miranda cooked dinner and checked her makeup before awaiting her wonderful husband’s returned, which was almost always within the same five to ten minute time frame.

After her husband came home, Miranda greeted him with a long blowjob while he told her about his day. The maid wife waited on him throughout dinner and then snuggled up for a movie. After the movie, they made love in bed, falling asleep in each others loving arms.

Miranda had chosen to submit again on her own. It was her choice and she would never regret it.