The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Whatismyname... whatismynamewhatismyname... whatismynamewhatismyname.... WHAT IS MY NAME?” he repeated to himself, louder and louder, finally shouting it in his frustration. No one heard it. The echo bounced against the many stone walls around him and he heard his own voice mocking him. It was all he could do, as he had been rendered incapable of movement.

He was in some sort of dungeon, he decided, not knowing for sure. He had been unconscious when they had brought him down here. When he groggily opened his eyes, he tried to bring his hands to rub his aching head, but they were tightly fastened to the stone wall behind him by metal chains that felt like silk against his wrists. It was more comfortable than he would have expected, but still confining. His ankles were similarly bound. After vainly struggling for what seemed like hours, but was probably only minutes, he gave up and leaned his head against the wall and tried to assess his suroundings.

At first, he couldn’t see anything; the place seemed pitch black. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see a stone staircase rising in front of him. There were no other exits that he could see, and no other beings, human or not, in the room with him. There were several pairs of arm and leg chains attached to the wall on either side of him, but they hung open and unused. He was unsure if it would have been better or worse to have found someone else in the dungeon with him.

The air was cool and moist, and it helped him to come back to his senses. Someone was going to come for him, eventually. They wouldn’t have thrown him down here to die, he told himself hopefully. Valaris could have killed him outright, but she didn’t.

He didn’t know where Anundail was, but after what he had witnessed between the sisters, he was not sure he would ever see her again. His heart skipped a beat as he thought of Anundail, of her smooth pearl white skin, her long white hair, and of using his tongue in ways he had never done before to give a woman more pleasure than he had ever been able to. He knew that part of it was her control of him. When she had stolen his name, in a way that he still could not understand, it had bound him to her, in obedience and desire. But, he would be lying if he said he was completely under her control, especially this far away from her. He knew that free will could be an illusion, but he felt that he retained it. And yet, he still desired to be near her, to be inside her, to help her defeat Valaris, and most of all, to obey her.

He thought of Susan, his girlfriend back in the “real world” and he was surprised to realize his feelings for her were unchanged. He still loved her and wanted to return back to her, if he could. Waiting there, his arms and legs fastened by chains to a stone wall, he regretted a lot he had done in his life. If he could go back home, he would make sure that Susan knew how much he appreciated her. Thoughts of what he had done with Anundail flickered through his mind, and he felt less guilt than he had thought he would. Instead, he longed to be with Susan in the same way. He was torn between these two women, one human and one much more. Susan was the one he wanted to build a life with, yet he wished they shared the same connection that he had with Anundail when he was close to her.

He tore his mind away from such thoughts. They didn’t matter. He was in a dungeon on another planet, or plane of existence, or something, and home was a long way from here. Anundail was the only person who he knew who could open the gateway, and she was missing in action. Valaris might have killed her, for all he knew.

It was very possible, given what had happened when he had first opened his eyes to find himself in a room with Anundail and Valaris.

Anundail had glared at Valaris, who had been lying hedonistically in a pile of red pillows. He could feel rage and despair eminating from Anundail. She had obviously not meant to encounter Valaris so soon. She carefully kept the emotion out of her voice, simply acknowedging her rival’s presence by stating her name, “Valaris.”

Valaris had only smiled, but it did not make him feel better. There was much to be feared from this one, he could tell. Something in her expression promised bad things to come. He remained still, hoping he could escape her gaze.

“Sister,” she had said, “Welcome home.”

Anundail forced a smile to her own face, matching the one that Valaris wore as blade to blade. “Yes, sister. Although I do not remember a pair of sisters so different.”

“Different?” Valaris asked, “Oh, no. We are not so different. It is just that you were born to this throne, but I have... earned it.”

“Earned? Stolen, perhaps.” Anundail kept her eyes focused on Valaris, but slowly moved her arm back behind her. She reached out for his hand and grasped it in her own.

With Anundail’s touch, all of her emotions flooded into him. Hate, rage, anger, fury hit him like a bomb going off inside his head. All directed at Valaris. It boiled and seethed and he could no longer concentrate. Nothing seemed to matter but revenge. He wanted to scream, to run up and smash her head against the wall, to throw her off a cliff, to make her suffer in all the ways he could now imagine. It was unnatural, this hatred, but it was inside him nonetheless.

Anundail waited until she was sure that he was as full of her emotions as possible, and then, without turning her gaze, spoke out in a commanding voice, “Kill her, human.”

It was like pressing the trigger. He let out an unearthly roar and ran as fast as he could. Valaris looked surprised and afraid. She had planned this meeting with Anundail out in her head, but she hadn’t anticipated the weapon that had suddenly been unleashed against her. He got his hands around her throat and started squeezing. All that mattered to him was the death of the creature in front of him. She wasn’t a person to him anymore, just the focus of every bad emotion he had ever felt or ever would feel. It was all her fault.

The four guards materialized around him, but he barely noticed. They grabbed him by the arms and forced his fingers to break away from Valaris’ throat. She lay there, coughing, catching her breath. He was able to hear her croak out one word, “Dungeon” and then they hit him with something. He passed out.

Suddenly, he realized he was no longer alone. He could hear light footsteps on the stairway in front of him. They were coming closer. For a long time, all he heard were footsteps; the stairs seeming to go on forever. He focused on those sounds of feet against stone, waiting for whoever caused them to appear. He had been in this dark dungeon for too long alone, and he needed for another person to appear. He longed to shout out, but he dared not.

And then, suddenly, they stopped. Complete silence surrounded him. No one was coming down the stairs anymore. He thought he would go mad.

And then he felt her touch, a long black fingernail caressed down his cheek, careful not to break skin. It lingered near his neck, as he tried hard to not move, breathing shallowly. Then it moved slowly, luxuriously, down his neck and when it got to his shirt, it didn’t stop. Her single fingernail sliced cleanly through it, all the way down, going so slowly. His shirt hung open, exposing his chest. He couldn’t move, terrified to turn his head, to see who was next to him. He could feel her hot breath against his neck, and once he thought he felt her tongue touch lightly against his face.

Then, right above his waist, she stopped her downward motion. Her finger hung there, waiting, and then without warning, it plunged into his side. He gasped out, more out of surprise than pain. She had only nicked the skin, but he could feel a small trickle of blood. It was a small wound, and would heal quickly if given the chance.

Then she withdrew her finger, blood glistening on the tip of the nail, and he was able to turn his head to look at her. Valaris smiled at him, and raised her long finger to her mouth. She sucked on her finger, his blood, with utter fascination for long moments, only removing it reluctantly.

“Very tasty,” she said, in a tone that frightened him. “I should have you killed for what you tried to do, but I know that wasn’t your fault. My sister’s already had you, I can tell, but I don’t mind. I’ve always taken the things that were hers, her throne, her husband, her servants, and now you. It was stupid of her to come back. I wouldn’t have sent anyone to follow her. She could have lived out her exile in peace. But, I don’t mind, she seems to have brought back such a wonderful present. Where are you from?”

He couldn’t not answer. She held him with her gaze. “Earth,” he told her.

“Earth, you say? Not one of the Thousand Worlds, obviously. Another wonderful present from my dear, dear sister. A whole new world to conquer.”

She stepped back, and he saw that she was dressed the same way as before, robed, but not veiled. He realized that she was not as similar looking to Anundail as he had thought on first glance. Her hair was different, darker, there were strands of black amongst the white. Her eyes, too; they were green, and narrowed to mere slits as they stared at him, appraising him.

“Now, what ever will I do with you? What is your name?” It was the one question he was hoping she wouldn’t ask. Still, he felt compelled to answer truthfully. Her will was as strong as Anundail’s, and he wilted before it. Perhaps if he was in different circumstances, not chained in a dungeon with his shirt hanging open, he might have been able to resist, but not now.

“I don’t know,” he told her, haltingly.

This made her laugh, and he wished that he had never heard it. There was no joy in it, only sadism.

“So, my dear sister has taken your name. To bind you to her, I suppose. This is so delightful. Did she make you have sex with her?”

He nodded, eyes downcast. She made it sound pathetic and demeaning, and it made him feel hollow inside.

She shook her head, but a smile remained on her face. “She has fallen far lower than even I could have imagined. To have to take what used to be freely given. What shall I do with you?”

He remained silent. He didn’t know what answer she wanted to hear.

“Would you like your name back?”

“Yes,” he answered her.

“Yes what?” she prompted.

“Yes mistress,” he answered, hoping that was the right thing to say.

She laughed again, louder and harsher before. “My sister trained you well, but I am not your mistress. Not yet, anyway. A simple please is all I require.” She waited.

“Yes, please.”

“Better. Unfortunately, I cannot give you your name back. If Anundail has taken it, she is the only one who can return it. But, I can give you a new name. Would you like that?”

He remained silent, scared.

“I said,” her voice lounder and more dangerous, each word carefully annunciated and clear, “would you like a new name?”

“Not really. I just want my real name back.” He answered, hoping honesty would work.

She slapped him, lightly, against the face, yet it stung anyway. He blacked out for a second, everything fading away, except for her narrow green eyes, staring powerfully at him, and then the world was back in focus.

“There are prices to be paid, nameless one, for every transgression. Now, let’s try again. Would you like a new name?”

“Yes, please.” He answered, sullenly. Her eyes flashed anger, and she moved to hit him again, but did not.

“You should be happy I’m giving you this opportunity. We are miles below the surface, and I am the only one with a key. The way out lies through me. Now, ask me for a new name, politely.”

He didn’t know what would happen if he let her name him. Perhaps nothing, though he doubted it. Losing his name to Anundail had bound him to her service, and he was very afraid of what getting a name from Valaris would do to him. However, his choices were limited, and he didn’t want to die alone so very far away from home.

“Please, would you give me a new name?” he asked, as politely as he could, hoping it would be enough. He braced himself.

“Of course I will.” Valaris smiled brightly, thinking hard. “From this moment on, your name will be Mikil.”

And it was, he could feel it in every pore of his body. Mikil smiled, it was good to know who he was again.

“Thank you,” he said, meaning it. Losing his name to Anundail had started a slow process, one that he could try to fight, but this was different. It was immediate. His whole world view had changed, and he didn’t care. He forgot about Anundail, about Susan, about Earth, about everything except Valaris standing in front of him.

Valaris leaned in close to his face, and Mikil wasted no time in kissing her deeply on the mouth. He was like a madman, as if he had been in the desert for years and Valaris was offering him a drink of water. Valaris let him do most of the work, she simply enjoyed the feel of yet another of her slaves’ mouths against her own. It was so easy, and this one seemed weaker than most. Perhaps it was because Anundail had had him first. It was no matter, he was kissing her now, not Anundail. Soon, she felt, he would be doing much more than kissing.

She reached down with her hand and grasped his balls hard. He squeaked and broke off the kiss.

“Do you want to have sex with me now?” she asked him, squeezing tighter. The pain was mixed with pleasure as she felt his hardness.

Mikil nodded, unable to speak. She smiled, and released her hand. He took a deep breath of relief.

“Of course you do,” she said. With her sharp nail, she traced a circle on his pants, and the fabric parted. She reached in and found his erection.