The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Master called a pizza place and ordered a set of pizzas.

Then all the girls but Jane, the aerobics instructor, were sent into the bedroom.

A while later a pimply faced boy, clearly from the local high-school, arrived with pizza. We were able to follow this, as there was a monitor in the bedroom. We stood at attention in present and watched in complete silence.

Master met the boy at the door, who announced, “That’s $98.79 for the order.”

Then Master took the large stack of pizzas and ushered the boy in for payment. It didn’t take the boy long to notice there was a very nude tall blond woman posed seductively there.

“Same deal as last week?” Master asked the boy.

“Uh,” and the boy’s voice broke as he tried to respond, “Okay.”

“I have this C-note,” and Master pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. “If you last long enough to get it out of your pants, let’s say, five minutes, you get the whole thing and I’ll let you put it in her. If you don’t, pizza is on the house.”

“Okay.” The boy agreed nervously a second time.

Jane sauntered up to the boy whose hard on was clearly growing in his pants. With two expert fingers she started rubbing his dick.

Clearly it got harder and harder in his pants and for the boy to hold on. He closed his eyes. He started going, “Oh, oh,” with greater and greater urgency. Tears started flowing down his face. He had passed four minutes!

The redhead whispered, “He’s getting better, a few weeks ago, he came as soon as she touched it.”

Just as I thought the boy might make it, Jane took his hand and put it on her boob. He blew like fireworks.

“Well, maybe next week.” My Master said ushering the boy from the Apartment.

After that, we all came out. We all got a slice of pizza and a soda. Then Master retired to the couch to watch a movie on his giant screen. Bobbi became his table with pizza. I was his couch cushion. I’m not sure what Master watched, all I could think about was his body pressing against mine. Jane got to sit next to Master like a date as her reward for success. Yumi waited and Redhead lay seductively on the carpet as decoration.

When the show the Master was watching ended, a duvet covered quilt was brought out and spread around the great room.

Then the Master arranged us according to his pleasure. He settled down in the middle with Yumi next to him. Then the lights went out.

I heard a gasp from the blond, then the redhead, then Bobby, then one of Master’s fingers inserted into my exposed vagina and, despite the dark, effortlessly found my clit. Completely involuntarily, my back arched, my eyes squeezed close and my mouth opened in a round rictus of pleasure. Despite how many times Master had made me come all day, it didn’t take long, and I gasped as I came so hard. Then I passed out.

I was in the future. I was the Master’s obedient bitch. I lived naked but for a leather collar around my neck. I would bring him his newspaper in the morning and his slippers when he came home in the evening. When he desired, I accompanied him for walks. I know we lived in a large urban center, but I had no idea which.

It had all begun years before. I remembered from when I was free and untamed. I had been a great feminist, very politically active.

There had been a great controversy. Women were not allowed to go topless in most of the country. Men could. It was totally unfair. Of course, I would never go outside like some whore with my girls uncovered, but I should have the right, just like a man, if that’s what I wanted.

It was a great controversy. The most infuriating part was the number of liberal older women who refused to support us.

The conservative pundits mocked us, “It’s just like prostitution. Maybe it’s a victimless crime, but those old biddies who’ve let themselves go are terrified their husbands will discover it’s cheaper to have sex with a pretty young thing for money rather than keep a demanding harridan at home. The same biddies are terrified their husbands will see some young breasts!”

What should have been a quick victory took over a decade. Eventually, some of those old biddies moved on. Young, politically awakened women became the biddies and the long bitter struggle was won.

Of course, the streets weren’t filled with topless young women, but a perpetual injustice in the law was done away with.

The problem was, the years the struggle had gone on left an established infrastructure. There were large organizations built up. Annual, well subscribed events that had become a tradition. Many for whom the struggle had become a full-time job and career for whom it would not be easy to find another spot in the movement somewhere else at the same level of responsibility and pay.

Victory was not an option. A new horizon had to be found.

The next obvious step was the right for women, and men for that matter, to go completely naked in public if that’s what they wanted.

The new goal was well framed. It was all about control of our bodies. No one had to go topless and it was no more common now than it had been before it was legal. However, we needed the right to control our bodies. Once again, we went to the barricades!

With another long bitter fight, our right was finally achieved with a new amendment to the Constitution.

I awoke from my dream. Master had rolled onto me to use me. Once again, without bothering to check my opinion, my body had opened before him. Then he was in me. It was so wonderful. I was so happy. Then he came. My body arched in a final spasm of absolute pleasure. Then I was asleep again.

Not long after the right to nudity had been enshrined in Constitutional law, a new phenomenon appeared. Clearly, there were some men who had the ability to tame and enslave women. Some could just enslave a few. Some could enslave many. Perhaps there were men or women who could enslave men, but there was little demand for slave men.

As a strong woman and a feminist, I was sure it was just unscrupulous men taking advantage of women with poor self-esteem and limited educations. The number of famous women, including politicians, actresses, singers, athletes and college students like myself who somehow chose to be slaves could not break my resolve on this assumption.

It was so frustrating seeing how the country swerved to the right with many strong female leaders suddenly deciding to be slaves.

The most galling thing was how many of these “slave” women now suddenly took advantage of the right we had fought so hard and long for to actually go out in public naked! Often in demeaning poses, like being attached to a leash.

The worst was the sight of a particularly prominent woman who had been elected to Congress as a liberal rep, serving out her term, naked on all fours attached to leash and voting however her apparent owner, a conservative lead Congressman wanted was as insane as it was galling!

I awoke again. Master had rolled onto me again. In and out he moved. I wouldn’t have resisted if I could. I was so happy being a slave. Nothing in my life had prepared me to feel such pleasures. In a vague way, I understood what meth and heroin addicts must feel. There was no choice. Just pure obedience. As I had the last thought, Master came in me. With my own orgasm, so much more powerful than all the ones I had before, I passed back to sleep.

My fellow feminists and I came up with a way to fight back. We knew many of these women decided to stay in bondage because they had been tricked into signing away their financial rights. We would make it easier for these women to extricate themselves by getting a new law passed.

The law would help women who had given away the keys to their financial kingdom get them back. When the women rejected slavery, they would have services. They would have places to stay while they transitioned back to independence. They would receive counseling on setting up new accounts and re-establishing themselves financially. They could even get new social security numbers if needed.

After a remarkably short fight, the law passed!

Then the bad news hit. While the law would include the provisions I had already described, it also included provisions that formalized ownership and transfer so women could once again be traded like chattel!

Boutiques opened with nude women on display for sale. Major cities opened auction houses. Why would a man marry when he could buy a slave who would obediently keep his home and never know the word “no,” in the bedroom?

We had fought and won against a provision that would strip a woman who had self-proclaimed as a slave of the vote. To my horror, what we now realized was that meant these slaves would vote for whatever candidates their invariably politically conservative male masters decided. Further enshrining an overwhelming conservative majority.

The worst part was that very few women took advantage of the opportunity the law gave them to escape slavery. We feminists clung to the idea that the reason they didn’t was that they didn’t know about their rights. That the locations for the rehab centers were too hard to find. The services underfunded.

We feminists wanted to fight this injustice, but we had been stripped of political power by our own previous efforts. The irony that we were now all a bit enslaved was not lost on us.

Then the services did start to get used, showing that all our excuses for why they hadn’t been used before was just self-delusion. The problem was the services weren’t being used by desirable young slaves to get freedom, but as a way for owners to dump older slaves they no longer desired to support. The one possible bright side in all this, that these so called “Masters” would have to pay to support their slaves when they were old and wrinkled had been thwarted. Now the women who had aged out of their looks and value as slaves could be dumped on social services to support making slave ownership even more convenient and desirable.

Of course, all the despair and anger I felt would be short lived, because then I met Master. Really, more, he noticed me. I was out shopping with a female friend. We were both attractive. She was blond, I was brunette . So maybe I had tried to dress a bit nicer to show her up. She dressed nice too. We were having a pleasant day shopping. I was wearing a tight pair of shorts and top that showed my midriff. She wore a tight short skirt.

A man walked up to us and said, “Hello.”

He was my Master. He then gestured for the two of us to follow. Despite being a strong feminist, I couldn’t help myself, neither could my blond friend. We followed like helpless puppies. The Man glowed. I couldn’t help myself as I completely fell in love him just following along. He led us to his vehicle, slid open the door to the windowless rear cargo area and had us kneel inside. He took us to his home. He showed me my true purpose, to be a good slave. My clothes came off for good. The bitch collar went on. I saw how silly all my previous feminist ideas had been. I was so happy being a slave. I worked hard to master moving as a good bitch on all fours.

I learned a basic lesson. All women were my Master’s bitches. Most just didn’t know it yet.

Then it was morning again. This time Yumi got the pleasure of waking Master with her mouth. I longed to rub my face on his beautiful manhood.

Instead, the others and I went to the single bathroom and took care of our needs. We didn’t want to be in the way when Master wanted the facilities.

When Master did awaken, he went to the bathroom and when he entered the shower, he took Jane and me to be his attendants. Bobbi was sent to cook.

Then the Master drew another bath.

One difference I had noticed about myself and his other slaves was that my vagina still had hair. I kept it carefully trimmed and clean but using wax or other products seemed demeaning. It was my vagina, not a showpiece for men. How silly I had been.

When Master thought my vagina had soaked long enough, he draped me over the side of the tub. The back of my head was on the bathmat, my spread legs still inside the tub and my vagina completely on display.

A towel was brought and placed on his left shoulder. A bowl of lathered cream was brought. A very ornate straight razor was handed to him.

He carefully rubbed the lather into my vagina. It felt sooo good. If I could remain draped over the tub with Master’s powerful fingers lathering my fur for the rest of my life I would be well satisfied.

Then, through all the lather, his finger found it’s way into my clit and, once again, I became completely involuntarily arched and even more on display.

With quick efficient strokes, Master removed the hair that made me a woman and, in one more way, reduced me back to being but an obedient girl. I thought there was no more intimate submission I could give; I had been wrong. I thought there was no way I could be more exposed, obviously there was.

When he was done, a bottle of some sort of red substance was brought.

“This is a permanent depilatory. It will sting a bit. Stay still.” Master explained and ordered.

He poured the red liquid on my freshly shaved vagina. It was like liquid fire. I wanted to pull away and soak myself in the tub. I wanted to scream. It was out of the question. That would mean disobedience.

Then Master’s finger again inserted into my vagina and found my clit. The pain disappeared. All I could feel was the pleasure. I don’t know how long he kept me there, draped over the rim of the tub, on the verge of orgasm. It could have been seconds or hours.

Suddenly, something changed, and I fell across the Rubicon and came very hard. I could still feel the pain, but it was muted now.