The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Synapse

“Don’t worry,” Soma said as she closed the giant tank. “You’re not dead.”

“Right,” I said. “I just don’t want to —”

But Soma didn’t wait for whatever quip or complaint I had. She shut the door to the sensory deprivation chamber and left me in complete darkness, floating in the strange water that muted everything.

No. Darkness wasn’t the term. It was nothingness. It reminded me of how Eidolon used to describe the Gray. All color drained from the world, but with it went all music and warmth. I was floating in nothingness, my finely tuned instruments — my senses — were taken from me. Soma said I needed sessions like these to train me for accuracy, to hone my skills. She said I was clumsy and brutish. I had no finesse, apparently.

But in reality, I was just distracted.

Soma may have had a lifetime of dissociating sex from morality, of losing any sense of modesty and decency, of blending kink and cruelty effortlessly. I, however, did not. All the training was sex in one form of another. Sure, it started with permission to let myself cum, but once I got to play with our victims, it wasn’t just an intellectual arousal.

Once I had Tits between my legs, I didn’t care about her nerve endings anymore. I only cared about mine.

And it wasn’t just Tits. We’d have several different women in the warehouse. I’d learned how to manipulate their fingertips and nipples, their lips and skin, their ears and eyes. Soma insisted I still wasn’t ready for the pussy, but I think she was keeping it from me, dangling it in front of me as a carrot. There was no way the pussy was more complex than the eyes or the skin. Weeks of training — or I at least I thought it was weeks, time was impossible to sort out here — and I still wasn’t good enough. Soma wouldn’t let me out of my straps for anything but a drugged cleaning by Gretchen, let alone out of the warehouse.

But that didn’t matter. They came to me. Tits and Maggie and Lin and Gretchen and Minerva and Carla and Tonya and Latashia. A lifetime of pleasures denied, of desires subdued, of craving curbed was opened for me and my delight. It was all on Soma’s terms, of course, but now I didn’t just hijack or Pull a kiss between two strangers and imagine what it would be like when someone kissed my lips. Now they weren’t just kissing my lips, if I was good — if I was focused — they would kiss any part of me. My feet. My hands. My ass if I was ever let free from the table. But my pussy most of all. Only Lin had not eaten me out.

Soma said it was because I was clumsy and because I wasn’t cruel enough. I had to break Lin if I wanted her to serve me. But it didn’t matter to me. What virgin cares about the quality of sex they have? All that matters at first is having it. Though I wouldn’t consider anything we were doing sex,

And now the deprivation chamber.

I felt Maggie and Lin walk into the room. Their senses were like the sound of a friend’s voice or a familiar scent. I Pulled and hopped into their senses but was immediately disappointed. Both women were blindfolded and had earplugs in. I could work with that, but everything was dark and fuzzy. Soma had even gone so far to numb parts of their bodies. I don’t know if she was blocking them, me, or just drugged them. I could hardly tell which one was Lin and which was Maggie.

Then Lin grabbed a crop and things became clear to me. I smiled in anticipation of what came next. I had to decide which one I wanted to Pull on and hijack their sensations. The pain and pleasure Maggie was about to experience was always delicious, but I was learning to delight in the cruel sadistic lust that blossomed inside Lin.

Lin was talking. Maggie smiled. Something else. I couldn’t hear them myself from the chamber, but I couldn’t hear what they heard either, couldn’t Pull the sensation. But I felt the movement of the tongue in the mouth and the shape of lips. I couldn’t read it, but I knew there was talking. Hands were unzipping something. Lin’s hands. No. Maggie’s hands? It was hard to tell.

There was a rush of cold as someone was naked. No bra. No panties. Nothing but chilly air over wet skin. I licked my lips and savored the sweet sensation of my tongue over the sensitive skin. The lack of so many senses made the ones available to me bright and beautiful. Like the ropes biting into Maggie’s wrists or the warmth budding between Lin’s legs. Maggie’s lips moved, and I imagined her crying out, but I couldn’t hear her. I could only enjoy Lin’s delight at hearing her sub squeal and beg. I could only lick my lips — these damn, sensitive lips — as Maggie dropped deep into subspace, as she worshiped the pain, as it brought her deeper and deeper into nothingness.

Subspace should have been my favorite sensation to hijack and Pull on. It was a breathtaking sensation for a sub like Maggie. The girl was a true sub, and the more Lin dominated her, the smaller she became. She begged to be made small. She wanted more. More pain. More denial. More humiliation. More of all the wicked sins Lin dragged her through. But the whining stopped when she was deep. She didn’t cry out or wish for it to stop. She accepted her place as nothing. The world faded away. She had no desires but Lin’s desires — and I knew it to be true. I could feel it. I knew better than anyone how much of a no thing Maggie became. I didn’t think humans were capable of such self-lessness. Even martyrdom has its own cruel selfishness. But not subspace. Not Maggie when Lin was behind the riding crop, the flogger, or the whip.

But it still wasn’t for me.

It should have been.

God knows I’d been trained all my life to be meek and small. I should have wanted to sit in that space with Maggie and become nothing right along with her. Like another useless member of Aurora Flight, there to help. Just another good girl at church, spreading the love of Jesus. Just another good daughter, obeying all the rules.

But somehow, I found a space between admiring Maggie for how pathetic she became while never wanting to be her. The first few times I Pulled on a scene between a domme and a sub, I sank into the sub’s skin. I felt a kinship as we were both strapped down and played with. Soma was my domme, and I was her sub, no matter how reluctantly I agreed to the arrangement. That was how the script should have gone. Meek girl becomes meek hero becomes reluctant thrall.

But instead, I craved to be Lin.

Not that I could. I mean, I was strapped to a hospital bed in the middle of an abandoned warehouse with a super three times my strength keeping me in place. I should have been content with the scraps Soma threw me each day. I should have been happy she hadn’t killed me yet or just made me numb to every sensation possible. I didn’t doubt that she could block my powers entirely and leave me castrated.

But I always had Lin.

The feel of the whip in her hand. The sound as it struck Maggie’s flesh. The thrill in my body as Maggie cried out but didn’t ask me to stop. She wanted me to keep going. She begged me to keep going. She wanted another slap and another. She wanted more pain upon more pain. All my darkness. All my lust, anger, and cruelty. She wanted all of it piled on top of her. She could take it. She was an endless abyss, waiting to be filled by my darkness.

Sometimes, I wondered if all people weren’t that way.

Maybe that’s how Soma did it. Maybe to her, each human was an infinite abyss waiting to be filled with her darkness. No. I imagined Soma didn’t think of it as darkness at all, but I could never think that way. Hurting people was darkness. Bending them over and fucking them stupid was darkness. Fucking them until they were bruised and sore and begging was darkness. Taking and taking and taking was darkness. Like hijacking your sister when she’s masturbating. Like craving your best friend from afar and waiting for her to bend to your will. All that darkness inside of me. Maybe Maggie wasn’t the only one who wanted it.

Maybe every human wanted it.

Eidolon

“Please,” Perla said with her thick accent and puffy lips. “Please let me cum.” She was grinding against me, humping my pale legs with her deep brown body, her lithe and curvy body, her absolutely perfect body.

I smirked. Perfect in all ways but one.

You’d think I’d get tired of this game, of winding her up just to let her down. I could play with her nipples for hours, and she’d just about explode. Explode but never cum. She was entirely incapable of it. Besides shutting down all sensory and pleasure nerve endings in her pussy — lips to clit — the blue-haired woman seemed to sever whatever connections let her orgasm at all. She’d tried it all: anal, women, nipples, everything she could think of. Nothing let her cum.

Except me.

All I had to do was reach through the Gray. It was a new skill for me, sliding my hand through a person, treating the insides of their body like a shadow. Years ago, when I was first learning my powers, I would never have tried it. I’d hate to end up inside someone or hurt them.

I didn’t care so much anymore.

But after weeks of playing with Perla — fucking her late into the night and sending her out to find the blue-haired woman all day — I still wasn’t bored of it. It was the same routine. She quit her job to hunt the blue-haired woman full time. I worked with Aurora Flight and tried to stay ahead of Io on the trail for the mysterious stranger. But then at night, if Perla had a bit of news for me, she got her reward.

Most nights she got nothing.

Because most days we found nothing.

And I’ll admit, sometimes she found something, and I still didn’t let her cum. Those were the best moments if I’m being honest. I think that’s what kept me with her, kept me coming back. At this point, she didn’t have anything I needed. She was fun. Well, sometimes. Honestly, she was whiny and needy. At the very least, she was amusing.

Yes, that’s it. She amused me.

It’s not like all the attention and orgasms didn’t hurt either. Perla made me dinner. She made breakfast in the morning. I could put her mouth to my pussy anytime I wanted, as many times a day as I could stand. Perla was relentless, but she was also helpless. If she annoyed me, I left. If she bored me, I left. Sometimes I left when she had been a particularly good girl. I had to remind her that she wasn’t in charge, that I didn’t even have to obey the rules or the system. I did what I wanted, and she got the scraps.

“Please let me cum,” she pleaded. She was grinding her pussy against my thigh, but that would never do anything for her. I pushed her off and rolled out of bed. “Please, please, please.” She crawled after me on her knees.

“You’ve been a very good girl,” I said.

Perla sat up. A huge smile spread across her face. “Truly?”

I smiled back. She looked like a cute puppy dog. I bent down and patted her head affectionately. “Yes,” I said. “But I’m bored.”

Her smile melted as tears flooded her round and large eyes. Without her usual smokey cat eye makeup, she looked a bit like a cartoon character: all sweet and innocent. I knew better though. I’d seen how far she walked in darkness to get me to fuck her.

She wasn’t so different from me, I guess.

“Please,” she whined. “I’ll do —”

I held up a finger, silencing her. “No.” I pulled on my clothes. “I won’t find the blue-haired woman here.” Perla sat in silence, properly chastised. She knew that if she annoyed me too much and pushed me too far, I’d leave without looking back. She had to be interesting more than anything else. God knows she wasn’t useful anymore.

“I’ll call you if I feel like it,” I said before I opened the door to the apartment. I looked back, and she was still on her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks. You would never know she was horny and writhing moments ago. The mood died so quickly for her. It was a shame. Part of me wanted to stay. I could leave the room but hide in the shadows, watching her moan and wail while she fingered herself pointlessly. That wouldn’t be a bad way to spend an evening.

But it wouldn’t be a productive way to spend the evening either.

I closed the door behind me and popped my hood up against the wintry night. In truth, Perla reminded me too much of me. Desperation drove her to darkness. She found something that fulfilled a hidden and deep itch in her soul, and she wasn’t going to rest until she found relief. That wasn’t so different from me and the blue-haired woman. But the difference was that Perla never learned to love her darkness. She was still holding onto the desire, hoping the dark would answer her prayer. But I knew that if the dark had the power, then the dark was what I wanted. I wanted to be the dark, not just walk through it. Then I’d contain all I could ever desire.

The trek back to the Borealis was dull, but it gave me time to process what I knew. After weeks of searching, I found other places where the blue-haired woman had popped up. The clinic was just one stop of many for her, and wherever she went, she left a trail of amnesia. I assumed there were more people with dead nerve endings like Perla, but I didn’t ask each person if they could achieve an orgasm. Instead, I gathered everything I could to form a timeline and then gathered whatever leads there were about where she would have gone. There were never any leads. The blue-haired woman was thorough. She’d appeared in the city a little less than a year ago. She hit the clinic early on, but also hit several different public records facilities, libraries, and adoption agencies. She was looking for Synapse, but I don’t know why. Sure, they both have blue hair, but so did half of the arts district. I guess she must have found some decisive piece of information, because after a few months ago, she went dark. The next time she appeared on my timeline was when we captured Hauzer.

It looked like no one was home when I got back to the Borealis. I assumed Io had them at some photo op or some flashy party she knew I would want to skip. Besides, you want to take the pretty supers to the cameras, not the one that reminded people that we were mortal, who showed them the cost of our powers. I knew I wasn’t the only one that paid a price, but I wore it publicly. I had to practically blackmail women like Perla to fuck me.

And that’s all the self-pity you get for today, I thought to myself as I slipped through our security measures. If Io weren’t here, maybe I could get on her computer. Sure, she protected everything like a fiend, but since my experimentation with Perla, I wondered what else I could slip between. Maybe the Gray was more like moving through molecular structures. Maybe I was more intangible than shadow based. I wasn’t sure, but I could always mess around and lie later saying I was trying to bootleg some anime. Io tended to roll her eyes and walk away whenever I brought up all things Japanese animation.

“Yes. Please. One more,” someone said down the hallway. I froze. No one was supposed to be home. But more importantly, whoever they were shouldn’t be quite so turned on. Even more importantly was that it sounded vaguely accented. French maybe.

Bastille?

There was a flash of light and a flicker of heat from a room further down. Hot like a supernova, like the goddamn sun just exploded in someone’s bedroom.

Surya.

I licked my lips and smiled. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a boring night.

Probably wouldn’t be productive either.

Synapse

A domme didn’t experience pleasure in the same way a sub does. That of course made perfect sense. The domme wasn’t being whipped or beaten. She didn’t have her nipples twisted or a cock rammed down her throat.

But that’s not what I meant.

I meant that a domme rarely experienced physical pleasure during a session. These ladies were professionals, and they weren’t looking to cum with each session. Most of this was purely transactional. But when they did feel pleasure from their work, it wasn’t a tongue against their clit or a mouth on their nipple. It wasn’t a dildo inside of them or their g-spot worked exactly right. It was the look of a sub when she begged to be whipped again. It was the pathetic squirm when a sub wriggled helplessly against her straps. It was the rolled back eyes when a sub was spanked and roared in pain that turned to a moan. It was the wanton abandon when they covered a strap-on with their spit and deepthroated it heartily. It was when they begged for denial. When they clamored for pain.

A domme’s pleasure was psychological.

Perhaps that was what drew me to Pull on Lin and hijack her emotions. It wasn’t in her body that I wanted to be; it was in her mind. Maybe that was natural to me — someone from Neoros. Maybe we were most at home in someone’s brain when the body became the puppet we dangled. Maybe that was awful and gross to think of people that way.

But that was the way Lin saw things.

Dommes created a scene. They orchestrated a session. To them, subs were players on their stage, puppets with strings they pulled. The nipples were another string to pull — to get obedience. Everything was a string to them. Deny an orgasm to get a behavior. Positively reinforce the behaviors you wanted to get them to keep doing it. If they were good, they could cum. If they were bad, they got the crop. Soma said that in the early days of her time on Earth, she was delighted to find a dominatrix named Lady Lorelei in a different city. The good people of Neoros play with power exchanges, pain, consent, and bondage, but for them it was more about conquering another mind. Here, Lady Lorelei explained to Soma that it was part of play for humans. It was a fantasy created for them, a bit of taboo.

For who would ever genuinely want to be a sex slave?

But from that, Soma had a burning hypothesis for how she could conquer the planet. Humans were unfortunately simple animals. They were hairless and sophisticated apes compared to the other species across the universe. If their true brain were between their legs, then how much encouragement would they need before they begged to have a fantasy become a reality? They would beg to be slaves as long as Soma kept the pleasure flowing. Hell, she could keep the pain going if she trained them correctly. They would thank her for it. Thank her for denial. Thank her for bondage. Thank her for their collars.

But not Soma. It was me they’d be thanking in the end.

A sharp cry from Maggie stirred me from my fantasy. I didn’t hear it — I couldn’t hear anything. But her mind cut through the haze of my lust as Lin kept hitting the same spot. She was done teasing and flirting. Now was the time for pain. She struck the same sore spot again, and once more Maggie’s cry rippled through all of our minds. It was beautiful. She hated it. It was, after all, pain. Adrenaline rushed through her system. She was panicked. She was bound and trapped. She was an animal about to be devoured. But instead of building her anger and preparing for a fight, Maggie’s natural submissive tendency put her metaphorical tail between her legs. She couldn’t fight or flee, so she yielded and broke. That was where the lust came from. She was truly helpless. The pain would only stop when Lin wanted it to. It would only stop when it no longer amused her domme.

I felt a wave of cool air run over my legs. I kicked them in the wet chamber, wishing I could reach between my legs. It was so warm there, so wet. Maggie’s pain was beautiful. She had moved past desperation and despair. She had succumbed to her helplessness and embraced the dark. She would let it have its way with her — let Lin have her way with her — let me have my way with her. It was as though she had died, and nothing could hurt her anymore. She was a corpse, and corpses had no opinions. They let their conquerors ride through the city streets and take whatever treasures they wanted.

I imagined myself in the alternate timeline Soma always talked about. Was I supposed to ride through the streets of New York or London while the masses — all naked but for their collars — bowed to me? I could feel their lust radiate off them. It was almost as pungent as their desire to please, to serve, to obey. I wouldn’t be a queen. Queens use law and force to control their masses. I would be a goddess. They would control themselves all for a chance at my attention — hell, even my apathy would be a sign of my divinity for them. For a true goddess wouldn’t have time for Gretchen or Maggie. They would serve, and I would ignore them while they squirmed and rubbed the pathetic flesh between their legs, thankful to be so beautifully ignored, to be so wonderfully pathetic and low.

To be dead, in a way.

Months ago, I could never have fathomed this. But I had been a quick study. I’d learned more from Lin than Soma. Lin with the crop tight in her hand. Lin, licking her lips at the sight of red bursting over Maggie’s skin. Lin striking the same spot. Lin suppressing little moans when Maggie cried out. Lin pulling Maggie’s stupid fucking mouth to her pussy. Lin holding Maggie’s hair tight, twisting it to make the woman cry out. Lin holding Maggie still, forcing her to drown in pussy as the water from the deprivation chamber washed over her.

I ground my hips. God, it was so hot. No. Fuck. That wasn’t it. Hot was for porn. Hot was for cheap lovers and cheaper words. Hot was something else. Was it erotic? Absolutely. But it was deeper than that. It was deeper even than the primacy of sex and fucking. Humans had been doing it since the dawn of time, but I wasn’t human. I felt it. Humans wanted to fuck to feel pleasure, to reproduce, to survive their cold and dying world.

But I was from Neoros.

I broke the straps holding me still and grabbed Maggie’s hair. I pressed her deeply against my pussy as I freed the other hand and took off my blindfold. The lights of the warehouse blinded me, but I knew the scene without seeing. I was floating in the deprivation chamber while Maggie was between my legs. Behind her, Lin kept striking her with the whip, driving her deeper, practically destroying her. Maggie was just a husk, serving as we saw fit. It was hot, but I wanted more.

I wanted to conquer.

I reached out to Lin’s mind and seized it. Before, I was a fly sitting on the wall, watching their emotions, and Pulling on them. Now I was Pushing. Lin was going to be my puppet, my sub. I’d break her too, but not to be low like Maggie. No. Lin was a predator like me, but I was higher up the food chain. I wanted her hunger, her sadism. She wouldn’t lick my pussy like Maggie, but she would whip the spots I commanded. She would get the nipple clamps out of her bag — god, I wanted nipple clamps on these bitches immediately. She would humiliate Maggie, too. I don’t know why she was so silent when she tormented her subs. I wanted her to talk, to tell them how pathetic and low they were. God, Lin was good, but she could be so much better. She could be perfect. They all could be perfect.

All they had to do was listen to me.

I arched my back and quivered as the first of many orgasms that night thundered through my body. Soma didn’t have to strap me down. She didn’t have to bribe me. I wasn’t going anywhere, not until I could do this to anyone. Not until I was riding through the streets with my thralls adoring me like Maggie.

I had so much to learn.

Eidolon

I followed the flashes of light down the hallway, letting my feet slip into the Gray to keep my steps silent. As I approached, I heard someone grunting before each flash of light, but after each flash came a not-so-subtle moan.

“Hotter,” Bastille said. Her accent got thicker when she was turned on. I wondered how thick it got when the blue-haired woman had her under her control. “Fuck, hotter.”

There was a pause. “I don’t want to —”

“I don’t care. Do it. Please.”

“Your skin,” said the other voice — definitely Surya. “How will we explain —”

“It’ll heal. Please. Please. I need it. I’m close. I’m so close.”

“But Io will notice. Fuck, she can probably read the feeds and —” Surya gasped as the room was filled with a slurping sound. Warmth spread over my body as I recognized the sounds. I slipped around the corner and was greeted with a sight I don’t think I could have dared to imagine.

Bastille was on her knees, mouth between Surya’s legs. Surya’s pants were torn but still clinging to her body while providing no modesty. Her suit was resistant to the heat of her powers, but Bastille’s wasn’t. The huge French woman was naked and covered in burns. Actual burns. I’d never seen Bastille so much as bruise before. I didn’t think it was possible to burn her, but apparently it just took the heat of the sun.

Immovable object meet unstoppable force.

“Oh fuck,” Surya sighed. She staggered backwards and hit the wall. Bastille followed on her knees, trying to never separate her mouth and tongue from Surya’s pussy.

I wondered if this was the first time they’d fucked like this since the blue-haired woman. I imagined them often waiting until the Borealis was empty so they could meet up. I imagined the first time it was riddled with shame. Bastille needed it, though she didn’t know why or how. She went to Surya and begged her to use her powers on her a bit. But Surya was practical and wrapped in her own shame. She didn’t want to relive what happened with the blue-haired woman, no matter how good it felt. Besides, that wasn’t her. She was under the blue-haired woman’s control.

Right?

I had battled the same lie. It was a comfort to think that I was helpless to the whims of the blue-haired woman, but it wasn’t true. The truth was that I stood in the darkness and watched. I soaked my legs with my eager juices as a lust I’d never known in my entire life took over. It was like I had lived my whole life straight and repressed only to discover how wonderfully gay I was. Except for me, it was the angry sadist lurking beneath the surface, the darkness that wanted to bend Io over her computers and break her.

And for Bastille, it was apparently a mirrored image of my sadism.

The French woman broke away and went back to whimpering and pleading. Surya tried to step closer to Bastille’s lips. The curvy and beautiful Indian woman wanted to cum on her teammate’s face. But Bastille backed up.

“Please.” Bastille’s hand was between her legs, making furious circles against her clit. It reminded me of Perla trying to make her useless cunt work all on her own. “I’m so close,” Bastille said.

Surya didn’t hesitate this time. She was on the edge. The lust made her stupid and cruel. She held out her hand, and I closed my eyes as the power of the sun flooded the room. Warmth washed over me, and I slid out of the room, afraid of what would happen without the shadows to protect me. But while her skin burned and the pain lanced through Bastille’s body, the French woman moaned. She collapsed backwards and kept working, thrusting her hips in the air as she slid two fingers inside her pussy, pumping wildly.

“Again,” she whined. “Please. So close.”

Surya moved quickly, climbing on top of Bastille’s face and queening the invulnerable woman. Bastille’s mouth went to work as she understood the arrangement immediately. Surya would provide the pain, and Bastille would provide the pleasure. As long as Bastille licked, Surya would burn her and feed the new masochistic urges.

My hand went between my legs. Fuck, I was soaked. I tried to imagine being Bastille, being immune to everything her whole life. Had she ever felt pain? Had she felt much pleasure? Or was her skin dead and numb until she met someone strong enough? Maybe the blue-haired woman had done the opposite to Bastille that she’d done for Perla. Maybe she woke Bastille up.

Whatever the case, Bastille now knew that pain meant pleasure, and only Surya was strong enough to hurt her. I’d stalked everyone enough to know Surya was gay — fuck, she was gayer than Kori — but Bastille was straight. But when the only person in the world strong enough to hurt you was a woman, I guess you couldn’t be picky.

“Deeper,” Surya growled as she ground her hips against Bastille’s face. “You cum when I do.” White heat coated her fingers as she leaned forward and played with Bastille’s tits. I don’t know if she burned them, but her power was enough to conquer Bastille’s defenses. The blonde French woman thrashed wildly. She was close.

God, we were all so close.

I closed my eyes as I heard them both moan and succumb to their pleasure. For them, this was the end. They could meet in secret and fuck each other stupid. Bastille could keep the shame from her masochism and reluctant lesbianism while Surya coped with hurting her friend just to cum. That was today’s problem.

But I imagined tomorrow’s problems.

The blue-haired woman had shown me the light. Perla had been my training ground, but she was useless to me. Surya and Bastille were next. Io after that. I could imagine a world of supers enslaved to their lusts like me, hungry and horny and dark. All of us in the Gray, fucking our darkness. In there, everyone would be in collars, all stupid and useless flesh suits only good for fucking. They would serve. They all would.

For in the Gray, I was queen.