The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Mistress Sarah strode purposefully down the hallways of her mansion, the heels of her knee-high black leather boots clacking on the hardwood floors. As far as the State of Oregon was concerned, it was legally still thrall christinepet’s mansion; but she owned it now, just like she owned thrall christinepet and all the others. The sound of thrall jessieguard’s boots followed a polite few paces behind, protecting her at all times. It was a little paranoid, she knew, but she was just getting established—only eight thralls!—and had no intention of getting snapped up so early in her career. The time would come, soon enough, when the mansion would hum with life, and she could relax, safely enfolded in a secure cocoon of loving thrallflesh. In the meantime, thrall jessieguard would stay busy. It wasn’t like a thrall could think of her task as a burden, anyway.

The master bedroom—Mistress bedroom, really—was still decorated to thrall christinepet’s tastes, from back when she had opinions instead of thrallthought. It had deep red walls, and sinister-styled chrome-and-black-leather furniture. It wasn’t awful enough that Mistress Sarah had bothered to change it yet. Everyone was busy right now with more important matters. Still, there would come a time when the room could be changed at her whim, every day if she wanted, without absorbing even a fraction of the obedience available to her. She felt herself getting a little wet just imagining it.

Well, there was a solution for that. What was being the Mistress for, if not gratifying your desires? What were thralls for, if not gratification? “Thrall christinepet,” said Mistress Sarah. The thrall kneeling in the corner of the bedroom stood up. There was no need for further instruction. Thrall christinepet’s purpose was deep in the core of her, and needed only to be woken to be enacted. As the thrall walked forwards, she ran her tongue over her lips: not in anticipation, but to ready her thrallflesh for its duty.

Mistress Sarah sat on the edge of the bed and spread her legs. “Lick,” she ordered.

The lucky/unlucky/oh-so-lucky messenger was in the Chair, being remade into a thrall. The story of Mistress Sarah’s escape from Cartwright was all over. (It amused Mistress Sarah to imagine what Lucyslave was doing now, frantically trying to find and patch the security hole that had let news of Mistress Iliana’s weakness leave the complex.) She’d gotten no congratulations, of course. No one liked to see a new rival spring up, even if it revealed opportunities elsewhere.

No congratulations except one, of a sort. Carver out in New York had sent the messenger across country so quickly she’d arrived in Oregon only days after Mistress Sarah had. The message had been to the point: “If you hated Iliana enough to break free and set up for yourself,” the woman had recited, “then you must want to see her taken down as much as I do. I think we can help each other with that.”

Mistress Sarah had known what her answer would be before the woman had even finished talking. The moment her new thrall janicesleeper was done in the Chair, she was going back to New York to tell Carver “yes”. Carver would find thrall janicesleeper’s programming sooner or later, but if she really was sincere about the alliance she’d discreetly not mention it. That was just how the game was played. And Mistress Sarah had some ideas on how to slip something past Carver—something that she wouldn’t find right away and dig out. Not to be used for a long while, of course, but keeping an ace hidden was never a bad idea. Wheels within wheels.

The Chair finished thrall janicesleeper off, her voice returning, as it had left, in screams of ecstasy. Thrall alicetech was calm and coordinated as she ended the process, the perfect image of a Chair operator. Thrall jessieguard was stroking little circles on the front of her black latex panties as she watched. I didn’t tell her to do that, Mistress Sarah thought, she bounces back fast. She hadn’t yet decided whether that meant a longer or shorter interval between Chairings would be best for her bodyguard. They both had their appeals.

Thrall alicetech led thrall janicesleeper out of the Chair and over to Mistress Sarah. “What is your answer?” asked thrall janicesleeper, stiffly and without preamble.

“Tell Carver I said ‘yes.’ I think we can work together to deal with Iliana once and for all.”

“Your compliance with the Goddess’s will is noted,” said thrall janicesleeper.

Mistress Sarah smiled wickedly. “Thrallmind unfold.”

“Oh,” said thrall janicesleeper. “Oh. Thank you, Mistress.” Her eyes were wide and wet at the realization of her purpose.

“Sleepermind unfold.”

Thrall janicesleeper’s face slid from blissful joy back into flat affectlessness, except possibly for the tiniest hint of irritation at Mistress Sarah delaying her. “I have received your answer. I will deliver it to the Goddess and accept Her further tasking. I will leave.”

“Yes, yes,” said Mistress Sarah. “Thrall alicetech, show our guest to the door.”

The two loyal thralls walked off together.

Mistress Sarah looked at the bedroom clock. 8:27. It was almost time. Her knee bounced with impatience as she sat at the desk, staring at the empty desktop on the monitor.

8:29. Only one more thing to do. “Avoid understanding,” she commanded, and behind her thrall jessieguard and thrall christinepet found other things to pay attention to as everything Mistress Sarah said or did became meaningless.

At 8:30 on the dot she opened the messenger and the face of her owner was already there. She sighed happily and sank lower into the chair.

“Someone’s happy to see me,” teased Mistress Iliana.

“I always am,” said Sarahslave. “Thrall janicesleeper is ready and already flying back to New York. She is loyal to me, loyal to you. When —”

“I’m not worried about your job,” said Mistress Iliana. “I trust you to do it right. You’re my most effective, most loyal slave.” Sarahslave smiled at the praise. “I call you because I want to talk to you.”

“Well, if my day doesn’t count as conversation, tell me about yours, then,” said Sarahslave, sticking out her tongue.

“Hah, all right, I do love hearing you talk about what you’re doing. You can tell me all about it in a bit. Everything’s quiet at home. Except for Lucy and Leah. They’re still really kicking themselves over losing you. I keep telling them it’s not a failure, just a lesson in what they need to watch for next time, but they’re not happy about it. I think I’ll ask ’em to go through the Chair tomorrow. They’ll understand then. ‘Mistress Iliana has a way to make this into a victory.’ Heh, won’t even be a lie, really. You going out there is going to be the best secret weapon I ever had. Carver won’t know what hit her…”

As her owner’s lovely voice washed over her, Sarahslave’s eyes slipped shut. “Thank you, Mallory,” she whispered.

She meant it, sincerely, but by the time she opened her eyes she had already forgotten again that she had ever known the name.