The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Heather Slick was in the airport waiting for her flight to Paris when her cellphone went off. She saw it was Annie.

“Hey, good to hear from you,” said Heather. “Actually I need to talk to you.”

“I’m very glad to hear that,” said Annie. “I got woken up this morning by a police officer at my door who hands me some files. Going through it, seems to be about a sex club for women.”

“Yes, the Los Angeles Police Department wants me to conduct an investigation into the Girls Sex Club,” said Heather. “I have to go to a conference, which means Cynthia is stuck at the office, because you know how the dean is about seeing darkened rooms, so I thought you might be able to help jump start things until we can get there.

“I didn’t think the police would act this quickly. I was planning to call you tonight.”

“Because when it comes to looking into bizarre girl sex clubs, I’m the first one that comes to your mind,” said Annie with a laugh.

“No, because when it comes to top-notch investigators on sex-related subjects, I can totally trust you,” said Heather.

“Well, of course you can count on me to help out,” said Annie. “I’ll look through the files and I think I actually might have an inside source. My cousin Janine mentioned something about a girls sex club to me last night.”

“I’m told it targets girls who like to have a good time,” said Heather.

“That’s my cousin, in spades,” said Annie. “Would have won Miss Kentucky if they didn’t find a flask strapped to her thigh during the evening gown competition.

“I’ll get on this and keep you and Cynthia updated.”

“Great,” said Heather. “Good to be working with you again.”

“Heather’s Angels ride again,” laughed Annie. “This should be fun.”

Annie was sitting at the dining room table, typing on her laptop when Janine strode in. She was wearing a white t-shirt and shorts, not having bothered to put on a bra or panties.

“Good morning second cuz,” she said brightly, holding a bowl of cereal as she sat down next to her.

“You must be on Hawaii time, because it’s 2 p.m. in Los Angeles.,” said Annie.

“Well, it’s morning somewhere,” said Janine, as she peered at Annie’s computer. “What are you doing?”

“Just the social media thing with my fans,” said Annie, still looking at the computer screen. “They ask me questions and I try to answer them best I can. Some of them aren’t even about basketball. They want advice on boyfriends and stuff.”

“Well what the heck do you know about life and stuff,” said Janine. “You’re just 24 (“25 in December,” Annie shot back.). I certainly know more about boys than you. You know how many guys I’ve slept with?”

“I think I do, answer is ‘a lot’, but they trust my judgement I guess, I don’t solicit the questions, just trying to give back to my fans,” said Annie, who then closed the laptop and turned to Janine.

“You said when you came in shit-faced drunk last night to make sure to tell you in the, uh, morning that I was eligible for something called Girls Sex Club.”

Janine dropped her spoon into the bowl of cereal, making a splash onto the table.

“I did?” said Janine as Annie nodded yes.

“Hmmm,” said Janine. “That is really weird. To be eligible for Girls Sex Club you must be one of three types of girls, besides obviously being smoking hot. “One, love to drink and party like its 1999, that ain’t you. Being into coke or dropping ‘X’, again not you. Third is …

“Oh my god! Must be a total sex freak. What the hell were you doing last night!! For me to say you are eligible for GSC, it must have been totally depraved.”

“Yes it was,” said Annie a bit proudly. “And you know I will never tell you … sober. But I am intrigued by this GSC. Tell me more about.”

“Can’t tell you much, first rule of Girls Sex Club is you don’t talk about Girls Sex Club,” said Janine, still in shock nun-like Annie did something super freaky. “But you’re in luck; my GSC liaison Lindsay just told me last night you’re invited, that’s big.”

“Great but I have to know something about it before I agree to go,” said Annie.

“OK, this much I can tell you,” said Janine, with a deep breath. “The nights the limo comes to pick me up and drop me off are the GSC visit nights. You can’t drive to there; they keep the location super-secret.

“So we’ll go out, you know, party, have fun at a bunch of clubs. We all get wasted or high or whatever. You have to, or the liaison won’t let you go. About midnight the limo comes to whatever club we’re at and our group piles in. Like I said, can’t know where we’re going, so we either get knockout gas piped into the back seats, or some employees already sitting there chloroform us. Either way, we are all out cold.

“We wake up and you’re in a room and immediately hypnotized. Once you become a regular like me that gets real easy. They give you a trigger phrase to trance you out right away, quicker you are under, quicker can get to the sex.”

“That sounds a bit scary,” said Annie. “I’ve been hypnotized before and it wasn’t good.”

“The more relaxed state you’re in the better the sex is,” said Janine. “This isn’t the Elks, Annie, it’s about S-E-X and hypnosis is the best way to get in a deep relaxed state.

“So anyhow, after the hypnosis, comes the sex. We pretty much have orgasms until we pass out. Then they load us back in the limo for the ride home with big smiles on our sleeping faces.”

“OK, so let me get this straight,” said Annie, realizing she would have to file a report on this. “When we go out, I get loaded, get knocked unconscious, then hypnotized and go have sex the rest of the night until I pass out.”

“Basically,” said Janine. “It’s a lot more fun than it sounds.”

“I hope,” said Annie.

Cynthia went over the report Annie sent and her face got redder as she went through the more salacious details.

Everyone in her Bible Study group wondered why Cynthia worked in the Sexual Deviancy department, as she was the direct opposite of a sexual deviant. She explained to them that is exactly why she was perfect for the job. She had an unbiased view of the work.

For whatever reason she was there, Cynthia by this point had five years in the department and her experienced eye was bringing up all kind of red flags, based on this report and the small details Heather had told her before leaving.

It seemed like the girls involved did not have a chance for even a semi-coherent thought during the experience. They started either drunk or high, then had the cobwebs of being knocked unconscious added to it and, as soon as they woke up, were hypnotized.

Cynthia gave a brief shudder. She remembered how, despite being in full control of her faculties, she had been so deeply hypnotized that she was turned into a lesbian prostitute. If something nefarious was occurring, these women did not have a chance.

But the big question in Cynthia’s mind was: Why?

Why did GSC only recruit young women culled from the Hollywood party circuit? Cynthia knew that sex clubs in other spots had plenty of high-powered executives and even clergy as members. From a purely business standpoint, their money was as green as a drunk 20-year-old.

And if it was not run strictly as a business, what was the purpose? The police had no reports of any customers filing complaints. Annie’s cousin Janine had invited her to go there, so seemed to be no big secret.

She had no hard evidence to base it on but something just did not seem right to Cynthia. And Annie was right; they considered each other more like sisters than friends. The thought of something potentially happening bad to an unsuspecting Annie made her stomach churn.

“I’ve got to get to L.A. … now,” Cynthia said aloud to an empty room.

But she had to be in the office. Heather was expecting it and Cynthia also knew if the dean saw the department office dark there would be heck to pay.

An idea then hit Cynthia. She grabbed her cell phone and hit the button saying ‘Twin’.

“Hey Brit,” she said. “Any plans for the week?”

“You know I had to drop out of college this semester to go to the clinic,” said the voice on the phone, which sounded just like Cynthia. “I’ve been discharged but, like I told you, every day I wake up and pray I won’t spend it having sex the whole time.

“So far my recovery is up and down. Sometimes I only sleep with two guys in a day; sometimes I fall off the wagon and its four guys and a couple girls.”

Cynthia had lied to Annie, something she hated to do. Satyriasis’ control of Brittany had indeed been so long and deep that when she regained her free will, the behavior patterns of a Nympho-Slave were still ingrained in her brain.

“You don’t understand how happy I was as a Nympho-Slave,” said Brittany tearfully to Cynthia right before she had been committed the first time. “It’s still in my head. I just want sex and to be bossed around. In my mind, I was perfectly content.”

While Annie had partially broken free after a while, Brittany was totally under Satyriasis’s’ spell until the end, which made her recovery even more difficult. Being as gorgeous as Cynthia, Brittany had no problem picking up sex partners, further stunting her progress. It was hard to be a recovering nymphomaniac when people are asking to have sex with you constantly.

“Well, maybe a change of scenery will do you good,” said Cynthia. “Here is the deal. There is this girls sex club in Los Angeles the department has been commissioned to look into and I think there is something fishy. But Heather is away at a conference so she has Annie out there investigating it, but I think she might need help.”

“I don’t think me going to a girls sex club is a good idea,” said Brittany Fields.

“I know dork,” said Cynthia. “I need someone here to just turn on the lights and take phone calls and get the mail and look busy. And that someone has to look like me as to not arouse suspicion. I only communicate with Dr. Slick via email so I can handle her.

“That way, I can go to Los Angeles right now.”

“Couldn’t hurt,” said Brittany. “Maybe being at a place where I don’t know anyone will help. Just to have one single day I didn’t sleep with anyone would be so huge in my recovery. I’ll pack my bags and see you in the morning, that way you can show me around the office.”

“Thanks sis,” said Cynthia.

Annie was surprised how much she was enjoying hitting the hot clubs in L.A.

“Sometimes I forget I’m a good girl, not a nun,” she said to herself as she danced with Janine out on the floor. Both were swinging their blonde hair around as they got into the music.

Janine had refused to let Annie wear the knee length skirt and long-sleeved blouse with a cameo she put on at first to go out.

“We’re clubbing, not going to a funeral,” she said and threw her a tight, red mini-dress from her own closet.

Since Annie was a few inches taller than Janine, it was more like a micro-mini dress on her. Annie was making a spectacle of herself at the clubs and, as she thought about it, she didn’t care. It was nice to be out with girls her own age and let her hair down and have nothing on the agenda but a good time.

Annie was quite surprised how much she liked Janine’s party circle.

She had assumed they were a bunch of stupid drunken bimbo’s but Lindsay, the leader, had gone to college in the east and was a successful actress. Beth was a short, busty blonde who was a costume designer and she and Annie talked about how to jazz up the Sparkles uniforms.

There were a couple daughters of movie executives, and they were more than happy to clue Annie into the latest Hollywood gossip. Annie could not believe how many actors she had never heard of claimed to be sleeping with her so they could get a mention in the tabloids.

If Lindsay had not made her sign a waiver form excluding GSC from any liability at the beginning of the night, she would have completely forgotten why she was out with them.

And Annie’s biggest worry, how was she going to get inebriated, turned out to be the least of her concerns.

Upon her arrival at each club in their trails, she was treated like a rock star.

The paparazzi went crazy. Here was wholesome sports star Annie Harpring out on the town in a sexy dress. The photogs knew they could sell this very rare picture for big bucks and Annie seemed to be walking in the middle of a lightning storm at every club as the flashes were continuous until she got in the door.

Each club owner brought a parade of free drinks to her table, asking only to have a picture taken with her for their wall of fame.

And then there were the all the guys buying her drinks, hoping for a chance to dance with her. Annie’s instinct was to automatically turn them all down, but Janine pushed her off her seat and made her dance with a few.

“There is a rule for 24-year-old, single girls,” said Janine. “A cute guy buys you a drink at a club and asks you to dance, you dance. You can go back to being a cloistered nun tomorrow.”

Between all the rum and cokes, Long Island ice teas, mimosas and margaritas put in front of her, after a while Annie realized that while she might not be in Janine falling-down drunk status, she had a nice buzz on.

At exactly midnight, Lindsay came up to both of them on the dance floor and gave a nod towards the door.

Annie was glad the back of their limo was empty; the thought of strangers pushing a chloroform-soaked rag into her face was kind of scary, as that was how Satyriasis had gotten her.

For a few minutes Annie thought this whole GSC thing might be a joke as the other girls were chatting amiably without mentioning where they were supposed to be heading, or that they were about to get knocked out.

Suddenly Beth stopped talking, her head weaved a bit and then she gave a sigh and fell back into her seat and closed her eyes. No one seemed to take notice as the conversations continued.

As Annie watched, one by one the girls fell back, asleep to the world. From her college science courses, Annie knew that as the two biggest women, her and Janine would be the last to go, as it would take more gas to render them unconscious.

Janine’s eyes then became glassy and her body began to weave.

“Have fun cousin, see you tomorrow,” were her last words before she sank back and was soon snoring.

Annie would normally get turned on being surrounded by unconscious women. But she was not in charge and a little nervous, realizing how vulnerable they all were. The concern made her lean forward to look around, which meant she toppled forward and splayed on the floor as she fell unconscious.

“Gee, that girl has the constitution of a mule,” said the limo driver as he looked back at all the sleeping women. “I had to almost empty the whole tank to get her out.”