The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“So, Nicole, what brings you here?”

Nicole, reclining on the cool leather of the psychiatrist’s couch, sighed.

“You know why I’m here, Doctor Hastings. My parents are worried about my behavior, since I went away to college.”

“And do you think they have reason to be?”

“Of course not. Besides, I’m an adult, and can make my own choices.”

The sunlight filtered in through the closed blinds of Dr. Hastings’ office. The room exuded stillness, from the dancing dust motes in the beams of light to the gilt-titled books on the dark mahogany bookshelf. Doctor Hastings ran a hand through her long blonde hair, and smiled at Nicole.

“That certainly seems to be the case. So what has your parents so worried?”

Nicole’s blue eyes roved off of the nautical paintings over the desk to Dr. Hastings, sitting next to her. The psychiatrist was again struck with how riveting Nicole’s eyes were, contrasting sharply with her dark brown hair.

“Look, Doctor, you and I both know what my parents had to say. Let’s not dick around with this ‘getting to know you’ crap. Is that okay with you?”

“Sure, Nicole. And call me Tracy. Well, then, let’s get to the point. Why did you do it?”

“I did it because I was instructed to.”

“By whom?”

“My Queen.”

“Your... queen?”

Nicole focused her ice blue eyes on the doctor, and smiled crookedly.

“Yes. Does that shock you?”

“It’s a bit unusual. So you do anything this... queen tells you to?”

“Anything.” Nicole’s eyes left Tracy and began to slowly wander around the room again, resting nowhere for more than a few seconds.

“What’s her name?”

“I don’t know.”

Tracy’s eyebrows rose. “You don’t know?”

“Nope. If She wished to tell me, She would.”

“I see.”

Nicole looked at her again with her piercing blue eyes.

“Not yet, you don’t.”

They looked at each other for a moment, then Nicole’s gaze drifted off again. Tracy looked down at her notepad, and resumed speaking.

“So, ah, how did you meet her?”

“Oh, she found me. My friend Lissa belonged to her, and introduced me.”

“And this was when?”

“Just a few months ago.”

“So you, er, signed up right away?”

“Oh no. She took me. I had no choice in the matter.”

“She took you? By force?”

“Not quite, but I certainly wasn’t a willing participant.”

“Did she kidnap you?”

“For a little while. Long enough to ensure that my new self was firmly implanted, at any rate. Then, I was freed.”

“And you didn’t try to get help?”

“Help?” Nicole laughed, lightly. “You’re going to have to open your mind to this, Doctor Hastings. I belong to her. She drilled right down through the layers of my mind and poured in an entirely new person. My pretty little head is like an onion that’s black at the core. You can try to talk nice, peel away some layers, see what makes me tick—but I’m telling you right up front, it won’t do you any good. You might as well give up now.”

Tracy put her clipboard aside, and ran her fingers back through her hair.

“Call me Tracy, Nicole. Look, I don’t know what it is about this masochistic relationship that you’ve found which makes you cling to it so, but it’s really worried your parents. Most girls express their collegiate rebellion with a tongue piercing or pink hair. Not with... what you have.”

Nicole smiled. “Most girls don’t have their minds irrevocably altered by an implacable Goddess.” She looked down at her chest, and then gave a wicked smile. Her blue eyes slid up to look at Tracy through her dark bangs. Her voice was low, sultry. “Would you like to see it?”

Tracy realized she had extended her tongue out to moisten her lips, involuntarily.

“No, that’s okay. Let’s talk about Lissa.”

“Lissa’s too hot for her own good, and a great fuck to boot. Let’s talk about me. Let me show you my anchor.”

“Your... anchor?”

“That’s what my Queen calls it.”

“You mean your piercing.”

Nicole laughed again. Her fingers rose to her shirt buttons, stayed there.

“’Piercing’. That’s good. It’s an anchor, Doctor Hastings. It’s a lot more than a piercing. Though there certainly was a lot of piercing to have it installed.”

“Nicole, I don’t really need to see it.”

“But I want you to see it. I want you to see what it means to belong, to utterly belong. This is just the slightest thing I would do for my Queen.” She undid the top button, flicking the pearlescent button through the hole with one ruby fingernail. “This, Doctor, is nothing. Nothing. But you should see what Nothing is.”

Tracy sighed. “Okay, Nicole.”

Nicole, smiling, undid the remaining buttons down the front of her shirt, and pulled it open. She was wearing a strapless bra, her olive skin clearly delineated with ivory tan lines. As the pale stripes moved down from her shoulders, they widened quickly into full mounds of her cupped breasts, slightly reflecting the golden light.

And between them...

Nicole’s gaze did not leave Tracy’s eyes, which were fixed on Nicole’s cleavage. A look of curiosity mixed with... fear? had settled upon her features. The brunette reached around behind herself to unhook the bra, and draw it forward. She slid her hands back forward, up underneath the cups, holding herself, and then flipped out her fingers and let the bra fall away.

Between her breasts, flush with Nicole’s untanned skin, was a metal plate. It glinted brightly in the light. The plate sat at the top of Nicole’s cleavage, obviously set into her flesh, with only a tiny line dividing the suffuse glow of the skin from the hard reflection of the plate. In shape it was rectangular, though larger at the top than at the bottom, where Nicole’s breasts pressed in on it. There was a smaller, perfect, rectangle inscribed in the center of it.

“Nicole, I...”

“Shush. I get to talk now.”

Nicole’s hands slowly lowered, allowing her breasts to hang just slightly down and to the sides, pale and full. She slid her right hand upward, between her breasts, and then tapped on the plate with one glossy nail. The clicking sound was loud.

“It’s surgical steel, secured around my sternum with six steel bolts. There’s a backplate on the inside, too. Over my heart.”

Nicole looked down at her chest. She slid her fingernail into a slight depression on the plate, and pulled the smaller rectangle out to reveal a metal hoop. She slid her finger through, and then gave several quick, hard jerks. Her torso jerked with them, breasts trembling with aftershock. Her cool eyes rose again to look at Tracy, who was looking at her with a troubled expression.

“You see, Doctor, it’s an anchor. My Queen uses it to attach me to things. I’ve found that I can pull quite a weight, with the proper harness and my anchor.”

Tracy looked back at Nicole’s anchor. Nicole gave herself another jerk.

“My Queen decided that she wanted to have something to tie to on her slaves. Humans are not that well equipped with brackets. So she installs them on us. Although I haven’t done it myself, I understand that I can be suspended by it quite easily with the right rope configurations. And, as I said, it certainly allows me to pull things. And to be lead.”

Tracy’s eyes didn’t leave Nicole’s finger, hooked through the ring embedded in her chest, but her voice was firm.

“Nicole, you can put your clothes back on. Thank you for showing me your... anchor.”

Nicole removed her finger, and the ring slid back into the plate. She picked up her bra, and fit herself back inside. Tracy leaned back in her chair, looked Nicole in the eye, and picked up her clipboard.

“Didn’t that... hurt?”

“Oh yes. My Queen had it installed in me without even a local anesthetic. It’s quite a revelation to realize you are utterly obedient even under that kind of pain.”

“Um... who did the installation?”

“Another slave. A doctor, of course, but that sort of thing is irrelevant in Her presence.” Nicole finished buttoning up her shirt.

“Okay, Nicole, so if you are so enthralled by your queen, why did you come back? Why not just run off with her?”

“She didn’t instruct me to. It’s not like She wants to use me all or even most of the time, Doctor Hastings. I still go to class, see movies, all that sort of thing. I’ll undoubtedly graduate and get a job. So why shouldn’t I come home for the summer?”

“Right. So, let’s talk about how she ‘got’ you. Did she hypnotize you?”

“And how. Visual, auditory, tactile—the full sensory array. Hell, She even uses smell and taste.”

“I see. Would you care to go into more detail?”

“No. I mean, what if my Queen wanted me to capture you? I can’t have you becoming prepared.”

“Ah. Do you have any interest in capturing me?”

“I can’t tell you that, Doctor. See above.” Nicole’s eyes twinkled.

“I see. I guess I’ll just have to be on my toes.”

“I guess.”

“So, ah, do you plan to have any more, er, modifications?”

“Gosh, Doctor, I didn’t plan this one. But if they happen, they happen, you know?”

It was with reluctance that Tracy got out of her bath. The bathing salts had given the water just the right feel and smell, and although the hot water had cooled to warm, and her fingers were wrinkled as a prune, it seemed like there was a terribly great amount of effort between her and her bed. Toweling off, brushing her teeth...

She dripped across the bathmat to the towel rack. The water made happy gurgling noises as it fled, and she dried off and let her hair back down. She thought of Nicole as she brushed her teeth. What a truly scary case. That girl was mixed up in some really sick things, and they had sunk their fangs deep into her. Tracy doubted that she could fix things by fall, and then Nicole would be back where this ‘Queen’ could get at her. She sighed, and spat into the sink. She was going to have to talk to the parents again.

Tracy took her bottle of skin lotion, and walked nude out into the bedroom. She squirted a goodly amount into one palm, flipped the bottle closed and tossed it on the bed. Smearing it around on her hands, she began to work the lotion into her shoulders.

“Hiya, Doc.”

Tracy whirled to face the bedroom door. In it, framed in the blackness behind her, stood Nicole.

Words failed. Nicole’s piercing blue eyes stared out at her from atop a black plastic collar which began flush under her jaw and ran in hard reflection tightly down her neck and out onto her shoulders. It tapered down her chest in a sharp V to a rounded point. At the point a ring attached the collar to her anchor.

Under the black collar she was in electric blue, some sort of PVC stretch top with a hole for the anchor. The short blue sleeves lapped over onto tight black arm-length rubber gloves, and she wore matching black rubber stockings. A set of electric blue PVC form-fitting shorts completed the fetish picture.

Tracy’s mouth hung open. She realized she should be calling the police just as Nicole addressed her.

“You like?”

“Nicole, what are you doing in my house?”

Nicole smiled, and slid her hand off of the doorframe. She reached behind it, into the hall, and slid out a black duffel bag.

“Why, Doctor Hastings, I’m here to get you.”

“Nicole, please leave.” Tracy swallowed, and stepped backwards. Her nakedness felt so terribly vulnerable, now. “I’ll call the police.”

“Oh, now you believe me, do you?”

“Nicole, I believe that you believe, and are thus capable of hurting me. Please, put the bag down.”

Nicole took a step into the room.

“But,” she pouted, “you haven’t told me how pretty I look. How sexy. How fuckable.”

“Please, Nicole.”

Nicole smiled, and took another step.

“Doc-tor. What am I, a lone girl, going to do to you? Hmmm?” She stepped forward again, her rubber encased legs bluntly reflecting the overhead light.

“Okay, Nicole, I’m calling the police.” Tracy turned to walk around the bed to the phone, not taking her eyes off of Nicole. Nicole smiled, and stopped walking.

Still watching her, Tracy felt around the bed to the end table, and reached for the phone. A hand grabbed her wrist, and she shrieked.

She whirled to find a tall blonde, umsmiling, with an iron grip on her wrist. She was a matching bookend to Nicole, only in red, with the immense hard plastic collar and PVC on rubber ensemble in black and cherry. In her other hand, she held a little plastic device Tracy recognized as a taser. Instinctively, she recoiled.

The pain didn’t come. The blonde had not released Tracy’s wrist, but the taser just hung there in her other hand, not moving closer. Tracy looked into her eyes, and they were empty, uncurious, as they stared back at her.

“You see, Doctor, I didn’t come alone. Lissa was instructed to assist me. Thank you, Lissa. Bring her here.”

The blonde led Tracy around to the front of the bed. Still looking at those golden eyes, wide and slightly glazed over, Tracy had no doubt but that any real struggle on her part would get her shocked. She was forceably seated on the front of the bed, facing Nicole.

“Now, Doctor, I’m not here to hurt you. That’s not my function. I’m just here to make some changes to your point of view. So I tell you what.”

Nicole tossed the duffel bag onto Tracy’s lap.

“Open it.”

With her free hand, Tracy unzipped the black canvas bag. Inside was a large pair of headphones, black and shiny, and a tangle of cords.

“Now, you don’t really think that She just came along and took me, do you? You think it’s some sort of underlying need on my part. ‘Hypnosis doesn’t work that way’, you think. So I have a little wager for you.”

Nicole smiled coyly, and bit lightly on one of her fingers.

“Sorry, Doctor, you look so... hot. Sitting there naked with that worried look on your face. I could just eat you all up. But time enough for that later.

“You put on those headphones. They’re going to try and reprogram your mind, make no mistake. But I’m going to take them off of you in a few hours. I mean, people will be expecting to see you in the morning. So if you can resist the hypnosis for that long, and still want to call the police, why, I’ll let you. I’ll even turn myself in. What do you say to that?”

“Nicole, this is wrong. You can’t do this.”

The dark haired girl sighed. “I’m doing it, aren’t I? Look, either you agree to my little wager, or Lissa tases you and we put them on you anyways. Your choice.”

Tracy looked up at the blonde standing next to her, emotionless, robotic. She looked back down into the bag.

“Come on, Doctor. I’ll give you another few seconds to decide. Be awake to fight it, or be dazed and semi-conscious.”

Tracy swallowed. “I’ll do it,” she replied in a soft voice.

“Good. Then put it on. Let her go, Lissa. But if she bolts, tase her.”

The blonde released her grip. Tracy breathed in, tried to center herself. She picked up the headphones in both hands, raised them, and slowly brought them down over her head. They gripped her ears snugly. Wires led from a small box at the back of the headphones into the duffel bag, and Tracy saw now that they connected to some sort of metallic box.

“Very good, Doctor! And how well it suits you. Now, you see the box in the bag? It’s got a switch on it. Flip it.”

Tracy saw the switch, reached into the black bag tentatively, as though it might bite. Looked up at Nicole, to plead.

Something danced in Nicole’s ice blue eyes. Something powerful, and determined, and very, very wicked. Tracy’s hope crumbled.

She steadied her mind, closed her eyes, and flipped the switch.

Music came on.

Tracy recognized it as Vivaldi’s ‘Four Seasons’. She opened her eyes.

Nicole was still watching her, hungrily.

Tracy was suddenly amused. Here she was, sitting on her own bed, while a delusional patient and her friend forced her to listen to Vivaldi. It must have been the eyes, that gave Nicole’s ramblings such authenticity. Of course, it was nonsense. Nicole had dreamed up this ‘Queen’, and suckered her friend into it, and of delivered her story with such fervor that Tracy had been suckered into it. She wondered how long she’d have to sit here.

Probably not long, given the girls’ outfits. Though really sexy in a fetish sort of way, they had to be hideously uncomfortable. And hot. Tracy’s eyes drifted lazily to the only exposed flesh on the doll in front of her, the upper thighs where the electric blue skintights didn’t quite reach down to the taut black rubber stockings.

Sure enough, beads of sweat were forming where the blue PVC creased Nicole’s brown flesh. Tracy’s gaze siezed upon one high up on her inner thigh, as it slowly grew, swimming, until it broke free and slowly trickled down, in an erratic course, to the black rubber below.

Then Tracy’s head lolled forward.

Her mind was full of honey. Focus came slowly. She was naked. Someone was in front of her. There was music playing.

She decided to look up, and was rewarded with a slow pan, as her head tilted back. The girl in front of her was shiny, and blue and black. Pushing through the stickiness, the dreamer fought for focus.

“Tracy.”

That was it. Tracy. That was her. She was Tracy. Who was the shiny girl?

“Tracy, you will listen to me.”

Yes. Suddenly the blur of sounds cleared, and all she could hear was the voice. She would listen.

The girl, who was more familiar all the time, smiled.

“You are nice and receptive, now, so we’re going to talk, and I’m going to help you to understand.”

That would be nice. The girl had such blue eyes. They matched her clothes, sort of.

“We are going to change you, Tracy. Make you better.”

That sounded okay.

“The first thing you have to understand, Tracy, is that you are a very bad girl.”

She was?

“Yes. Very bad. Do you want to be bad?”

Fumbling for her voice, she found a reply. “N-no.”

“Good. You want to be good, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now, Tracy, you’ve been thinking some things that are bad, and not true. We need to help you think true things. Do you want to think true things?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Listen, Tracy. You are a drone. Your purpose is to obey. Don’t you think so?”

That wasn’t quite right. If only she could think clearly.

“I... no. No, that’s not...”

The voice cracked like thunder. “Bad! You are a drone. Obey, Tracy. Acknowledge that you are a drone!”

She wanted to do what she was told. Needed to. But it was wrong... maybe? Why did she think that?

“Uh. I.”

“You are a drone. Acknowledge.”

“I...”

“You are a drone.”

“I...”

“You are a drone.”

“I am a drone.”

Relief ran through her like cool water. It was so much better to submit.

“What are you, Tracy?”

“I am a drone.”

“Are you really?”

“Yes.”

“Good. You are a drone, Tracy. You live to obey.”

Something wasn’t quite right there, either.

“Obey?”

“Yes. You live to obey. Acknowledge.”

“I...”

“You live to obey.”

“I live to obey.”

So calm. So right. She could feel it. The blue girl was happy with her, smiling. She was so pretty.

“What are you, Tracy?”

“I am a drone.”

“Why do you exist?”

“To obey.”

“To obey whom?”

“Ah... obey?”

“You exist to obey your Queen. You are a drone.”

“Yes. My Queen.”

It seemed familiar, somehow. Something she had known, once.

“What is your purpose, Tracy?”

“To obey my Queen.”

“And what are you?”

“A drone.”

“What will you do for your Queen?”

“I... Anything. She is my Queen. I am a drone. I live to obey her.”

The shiny girl smiled again.

“Very good, drone.”

The praise felt wonderful. She was a good drone. She wanted to be a good drone.

“I have something for you, drone.”

The blue girl reached into a black bag, that Tracy was somehow connected to, by wires. She removed a pair of large sunglasses, also trailing wires.

“Do you want to know your Queen?”

That was easy.

“Yes! Yes, show me my Queen!”

Tracy extended her hands, and the blue girl put the glasses into them.

“Put on the glasses, drone.”

Tracy obeyed. It was good to obey. She was a drone.

“The glasses will show you pictures of your Queen. They will show you many true things. But you will have to relax, and let them show you. Do not try to look at them, but let them show you. Do you understand?”

“Not... really.”

“Just relax, drone. They are special glasses. They will make a picture in your mind. Don’t look for it in the glasses, but just relax, and look into them without looking for anything. Is that clear?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Lights started showing in the glasses, but not so bright that Tracy could not look at them. They were pretty, but they kept changing. She tried to relax, as she had been told. She would obey.

The alarm went off. Groggily, Tracy slapped around the nightstand until she hit the off button.

Light was peering in through the curtains. After a brief moment of morning-denial, Tracy rolled off the bed, to her feet, and stumbled into the bathroom.

After showering, she was sitting downstairs enjoying her english muffin and watching CNN, when the doorbell rang. Still in her robe, she went to answer it.

Nicole stood on the porch, dressed in jeans and a tight white t-shirt with the label “Tramp”.

“Hi, Tracy.”

“Good morning, Nicole. Er, what brings you here so early?” Looking past the brunette, Tracy could see a blonde girl she didn’t recognize behind the wheel of a Ford Escort.

“Well, I just had to check on something. I want you to remember our little bet, now, and tell me: did you win?”

Something hit Tracy low in the back of her head, and her mouth popped open. It hung open, her eyes staring blankly, as it all came back to her. Nicole’s visit. Vivaldi. Her Queen.

Nicole stood, smiling, as Tracy collected herself. The blonde psychiatrist smiled back.

“No. I lost.”

“And I bet that just thrills you all to pieces, doesn’t it?”

“You know it does, lover. Is it time?”

“Yes. She is ready to start with some more permanent engineering. It’s time for your new mind to be installed, Tracy.”

Tracy breathed in deeply, happily. Soon she would be completely, irrevocably, remade into the drone which, for now, she only thought she was.

“I’ll get my keys.”