The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Three weeks later, she got more ink done. A lot more. And other things.

Emily was naked in the living room, or nearly so. Her skin reflected the light with a dull sheen, given her by the same transparent plastic she had worn when she first had her ink done. Only now it covered her entire torso, in addition to her crotch. Black circuitry ran up her spine like the branches of a stylized tree, thick and black near her shiny black receiver and branching across her back until only the tips reached the black circles at the base of her neck. In front, her breasts were now decorated with circuits, which smoothly curved with the slightly heavy roundness of them, nesting in her cleavage, streaking across the surface to terminate in an arc of little circles at her areolas. Her legs, hips, and crotch were now thickly covered, black lines and pale flesh in about equal proportion.

Emily’s voice was trembling with lust as she slowly turned around, showing me her new self.

“Oh, God. I’m so hot.” She swallowed. “I forget how much being imprinted turns me on. Look—these,” she gestured at the skin circuits on the back of her neck, “are perfect for making me do things. They dull the conscious mind, make the unconscious more and more eager to take control, to obey and be rewarded. I can be trained to do more and more complex things, obeying without ever thinking about it. Mmm. And, you know, I want to be made to do things.”

She looked at me, hungrily, running her hands along her body. “You have my new controller. Look at all the buttons. Lord May has a headset that suppresses conscious thought, so you can rapidly train me to associate the performing of any action with the push of one of the buttons. Oh, God, I’m so horny.” She swallowed again. “Push a button, and I’ll give you a blowjob. Everything I do towards giving you a blowjob will cause me pleasure, and everything I do that isn’t about giving you a blowjob will cause me pain. God.” She was touching herself, now, rubbing her pussy through the plastic pants she was wearing. “Holly says that, after a while, you don’t even have to think, just enjoy the pleasure that fulfilling the order gives you. Your subconscious mind just takes over the body and does it all on its own.”

I remembered the headset, but Emily either didn’t recall or was too lost in her lust to think about it. She dropped into a lower crouch to get better access to her pussy, and I stared at the nest of orderly black lines gripping her naked crotch. They ran down the inside of her legs, now, down to and past her knees, and large rows of thin, perfectly straight black lines ran up from her shaven—no, electrolyzed—pussy up her lower belly, decorating her stomach and cupping and overflowing onto her breasts. I started as she slid a finger into herself—there was a slit in the plastic shorts (almost pants, as they stretched past the knees), and she began to stroke and pluck at her pussy through it.

“Did he... did he add all the circuits in front, too?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Emily said, panting, one hand sliding up and down her labia (which were all stained entirely jet black, now) and the other reaching behind her and underneath to push two fingers into her pussy. I could see her juice trickling down them as she frigged herself. “He—mmm—added so many more. And you can see he did my breasts, too.”

“It’s all still removable, right?”

She hesitated. “Er... almost all.”

I frowned.

“I haven’t done like Tracy, or Holly, or the other girls, and had any of it painted thick enough to be permanent. Though Lord May suggested that I should. No risk of any of it coming off. Yes, I should get it applied deep, deep.” She blinked, and seemed to realize where she was. Her hands were still working her pussy. “If you’ll let me, of course. We’ll, we’ll have to talk about it.”

“Emily, tell me what has he done permanently.”

“Oh, he put some, ah, control rods in. Just little ones, like little needles. It lets the circuits connect to nerves that aren’t on the skin.”

“You let him install needles in you? Jesus, Emily, where?”

“Here,” she said, gesturing at her lower belly with the hand not buried in her snatch. “And, ah, here,” she said, pointing at her inner thighs. “And... here,” she said, running a hand up to her labia. I stared at her, as she began to stroke her pussy lips again.

“Emily. Anywhere else?”

“Oh,” she said, again appearing to wake up, “here.” And she pointed at the sides of her neck.

“Jesus,” I said softly. Emily didn’t notice, once more lost in her erotic fog.

She had had things installed.

I leaned forward, and could see for myself—the soft, smooth, etched lines that lay thick on her mons were interspersed with tiny circles, and in each of the circles a tiny glint of copper winked at me as Emily’s masturbating caused her flesh to move and bulge.

“Tom,” she said breathlessly, as I stared at her pussy from inches away, “it’s what I want.” I looked up at her, breathing in the smell of her arousal, and she stared down at me with her most serious expression.

“Emily...”

“I want this, Tom,” she said. “Please, don’t tell me to stop.”

Tracy had come by, that day, while Emily was getting these pins installed, being painted with more ink than ever before. Being painted with ink that could dull and turn off her mind, turn her into a zombie, a robot, an automaton.

I had fucked Tracy for three hours, and I still wanted more. And I wanted to fuck Emily, too, and Rebecca, and Holly...

“Okay,” I answered.

She smiled, and slid a sopping hand up to her mouth, to lick her own juices. “Lord May was kind enough to give me a slit to fuck with,” she said, sucking her finger, spreading her legs. “Use it.”

I had to know what Emily was doing to her mind. She was spending more and more time, now, naked on the bed, staring at the ceiling, repeating things that a set of headphones hissed into her ears. I’d come home, early or late, and almost expect to find her lying motionless on the bed save for the flexing of her knuckles as she pushed the buttons of her controller.

She wouldn’t talk to me about it. When I had finally raised the subject, she simply smiled and replied “Doesn’t it look sexy? I can picture myself, you know, eyes blank, staring at the ceiling, mouthing soft words. All the girls look like that when we meditate.”

“Meditate? It seemed like... well, like you were programming yourself.”

Emily put down her magazine and walked over towards me. “The other girls do it at Lord May’s,” she said, sitting next to me, “but I come home first. It really feels good.” She nuzzled into my neck.

“I’m not really comfortable with it, Emily,” I said.

She pulled back, frowned at me. “Well, I’m not going to stop. And don’t you dare interrupt me while I am in trance—it could really mess up my head. The CDs bring me out gently, but if you just stopped it there could be problems.” The light turned back on in her eyes. “Don’t worry, love, it’s just fun. You really shouldn’t worry. Besides,” she added, stroking my thigh, “doesn’t it turn you on?”

Since I couldn’t approach Emily, I realized I would have to talk to the architect of the whole issue. It was hot that day, and I felt the sweat begin to bead on my upper lip as I stood in front of his door.

Holly answered the door. “Oh, hi Tom,” she said. “Come in.”

“Hi, Holly,” I said. “Is Lord May in?”

“He sure is,” she said. “He should be down in a moment.”

“Great. Say, where have you been? I thought your tan was incredible before, but you’re dark as mahogany now.”

She smiled at me. “Thanks. I’ve been staying with a friend of Lord May’s.”

“Whereat?”

“Southern Hemisphere. Can I get you something to drink?”

She wasn’t going to tell where she had been. I heard Lord May coming down the stairs. “Oh, no thanks. I’m just here for a minute.”

“Suit yourself.”

The soft thump of the crutches into the carpet was followed by the slightly accented sound of Lord May’s “Ah, our good Mister Strong.” He rounded the futon, which had its back to the hall, and extended a hand. “A pleasure.”

“Nice to see you again, too.”

“Indeed, indeed. Through Tracy and Rebecca tell me you’ve been well.”

“And Emily,” I said. There was a tension that I had not felt when talking to him before, and I wondered if it was just me or if there was indeed something between us both, now.

“Yes, and your lovely wife. You have come to speak with me about her, I would surmise.”

“Precisely.”

“Well, how may I be of assistance?”

“Emily has been listening to these CDs, and it seems like, well, like they are programming her.”

“Ah! I understand. My dear fellow, allow me to assure you that they are doing nothing of the sort. You have noticed, I am sure, that your wife has erotic fantasies about submission. Being controlled.” He chuckled. “Just like all of the women that I paint. It was why she decided to accept my offer in the first place. Well, the CDs are actually little escapist fantasies. They allow the girls to place themselves into a trance, and imagine that they are actually sex robots, programmed and helpless to obey.”

He held up a finger. “But! It is just an imaginary world in their trance. Like a dream. I can entirely see how you may have interpreted the situation as programming—doubtless you found her lying motionless, repeating such things as ‘I will obey’ to herself. But it is only a fantasy. When the CD finishes, and brings her out of the trance, she is no different than she was before.”

I scratched my chin. “I see.” It made sense, although I wasn’t wholly sure that I believed it. Still, he hadn’t lied to me before, and it did match with what Emily had said. “Thank you, that was very re-assuring.”

“I am glad you came by. It would certainly grieve me to have you laboring under any misconceptions. I do so value you as a neighbor and a friend.”

“Thank you,” I said, standing up. “I should get home, but I appreciate your taking the time to explain.”

“It was no trouble whatsoever.” He smiled. “You will excuse me if I don’t rise to see you to the door.”

“Of course,” I replied.

“Oh,” he said, as I reached for the door handle, “there is one thing.” I turned to face him. “I would advise against removing the headphones while she is in trance. Without being properly brought out of it, you see,” he gestured with his hands, “she may continue to think of herself as a programmed robot. Although her true personality will assert itself fairly quickly, the whole thing could lead to unnecessary confusion and difficulties on her part.”

“Right,” I replied. “Thanks again.”

“The thanks are mine, entirely.”

Tracy and Rebecca had come to the house several times since our first experience, but what surprised me that Friday was that they came bearing suitcases.

“Hi, Tom,” breathed Tracy. “We have a little favor to ask. Lord May has some guests over this weekend, and doesn’t really have enough room for everyone. Could we stay with you? Just for the weekend.”

“We’ll have a lot of fun,” added Rebecca, who even when she was playing the naughty girl managed to look innocent. It was her eyes, wide open and twinkling black under her light red tumble of hair.

“Come in,” I said. Emily was in the living room, watching television, and she smiled when she saw the girls entering.

“Hello there, ladies,” she said. “What brings you here?”

“Lord May sent us to stay at your house for the weekend,” Rebecca said. “Miko, Samantha, and Holly are all at his place, and he ran out of room.”

“Great!” Emily said. “You can put your things in the second bedroom.”

“Emily,” I asked, after Tracy and Rebecca had flounced up the stairs with their bags, “this is okay? I mean, they just kind of showed up.”

“Of course it’s okay,” Emily said. “Lord May asked us to let them stay here, and after all he’s done for us, it’s the least we can do. Anyways, we have the extra room, and it’s not like we don’t sleep with both of them all the time anyways.”

When she was right, she was right.

It was an almost eerily normal night. The girls changed into pajamas. We made microwave popcorn. We watched classic movies. If it weren’t for the face that Rebecca’s nightshirt kept riding up to show her circuits disappearing under her panties, it would have been entirely Platonic.

‘The Music Man’ finished at one o’clock, and we decided it was time for bed. I half expected Tracy to ask to join us in our bed, but all three girls bounced upstairs to brush their teeth. I washed up the snack dishes, locked up the front door, turned off the lights, and headed upstairs.

We had two upstairs bathrooms, both of which had their doors closed. Figuring that it was Emily in our bathroom, I tapped at the door, then opened it. Emily was in the bathroom, but not alone. Rebecca was there too, leaning against the counter. Her panties were around one ankle.

Emily was on her knees, her head shoved up between Rebecca’s legs. Rebecca was leaning heavily on the counter, straddling Emily’s face, bowlegged, pushing down—her nightshirt was log enough that I couldn’t see Emily above the neck, but the wet sounds she was making, and Rebecca’s soft moaning, told me exactly what was going on.

I watched them for a moment. Rebecca’s eyes never opened as she pulled on her lower lip with her teeth, and made soft whimpering noises.

“Cute,” said Tracy suddenly, behind me.

I turned to find her standing right behind me. “I was using the guest bathroom,” she observed, “so Rebecca came over here to brush her teeth. Guess that’s not all she got to do.” Tracy kissed me on the cheek. “Well, good night.”

As she walked down the hall in her paisley silk pajamas, I heard Rebecca’s shuddering moan, and turned to watch her jerk her crotch rapidly against the bulge in her nightshirt that was my wife’s head. With a loud sigh, she exhaled, and pulled her shirt up to show my wife detaching from her pussy, streamers of wetness connecting her mouth to Rebecca’s cunt.

Emily leaned back on her haunches, and Rebecca dropped her shirt and bent over to kiss her. It lasted a long moment.

“I’d better get to bed,” she said softly, and padded out past me, looking at me only once with a smile. I watched her walk down the hall, and close the guest bedroom door.

I looked at Emily, who was standing up, her mouth and chin still glistening. She licked her lips, and looked at me sheepishly.

“I went in to brush my teeth,” said Emily, “and Rebecca was bent over our sink, washing her face, and her nightgown had ridden up, and I saw her ass... and I just couldn’t resist. I don’t know what came over me. Seeing her, like that, I just had to bury my face in her pussy. To feed between her legs.” She rubbed at her eyes. “I dunno, maybe I’ve become addicted.”

“I don’t mind,” I said. She looked at me, then grinned and threw herself into my arms.