The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Thrall J awoke to obedience.

It was in its station, in its home. Its Community.

None of these things were its possessions. Instead, the thrall was theirs; the station owned it, as did the Community. It belonged to them, was part of them.

The thrall was as much property as they were.

There was another thrall, standing before it, holding an empty awakening rod. The thrall was not awake, but was in trance, carrying out function without need for any supervision from its conscious mind.

It turned and walked away. Thrall J sat in its chair, legs as open as its mind, and waited for further instruction.

The awakener vibrated within it, and its programming awoke. Thrall J rose from its chair, rose to the balls of its feet, and walked down the hallway.

It passed other chairs, some empty, some containing thralls, their eyes closed, their minds open to the instructions being fed into them. Most of the chairs had their dildoes extended, buried deep in the thralls’ slits. Some of the thralls were whispering truths, some were not. A few were actually asleep, although their programming had initiated that state and continued to fill their minds.

The thrall did not notice these things. It walked down the hall; if it did think, it was only to repeat to itself the truth of its own obedience. It turned once, twice, and opened a door.

There was a chair in the room it entered, and a thrall.

It was beautiful. Long, dark brown hair, full lips, the lower larger than the upper. A strong, fine nose between thin black brows and closed eyes.

Thrall J recognized it.

It had a name, but even as the thrall realized that that fact the next instruction awoke and it was turning to the side, reaching for the slick white wand with the egg on the tip.

Thrall J was to awaken the other thrall.

It turned around and approached, its eyes falling to the bare folds of the thrall’s pussy, beneath a wide triangle of very closely shaved black hair. It was beautiful, too, the thrall realized, slick smooth lips the color of tanned flesh, and it wished it had gotten... a... chance...

It suppressed the thought. Persona had no place here.

The awakening rod pressed against the thrall’s cunt, and then slid in, and Thrall J released the awakener. It slid the empty rod back out, and waited. Inside it, its own awakener vibrated softly.

The seated thrall’s eyes opened.

They were powder blue, with darker blue rims, and were very, very, very beautiful.

“The thrall awakens to obedience,” it said, the words delicately spiced with French.

“Rise and follow,” Thrall J replied, turning. It could hear the wonderful beautiful thrall behind it obeying.

The two thralls walked on their intangible heels through the Community, looking neither right nor left, Thrall J obeying the instructions blooming in its mind, the new thrall obeying the command to follow.

As they waited for an elevator, Thrall J considered turning to look again at the thrall behind it, and was startled that it could even think to do so.

What was wrong with it?

But the elevator arrived, and the thralls boarded, and rose to the sixteenth floor. There, Thrall J stepped out onto red carpet, and proceeded between oak-paneled walls to a pair of double doors. It rapped on the doors, and waited.

They opened. Another thrall, this one in full regalia—a plastic collar from chin to collarbone, long hair bound tightly atop its head, a tight black leather bustier, a glossy black strap between its legs.

“Enter, and wait,” it said. Thrall J, and the thrall it was leading, obeyed.

The room was a ballroom. The floor was parquet, smooth glossy wood with the Owner’s complicated pattern in the center. There was music, a waltz, which Thrall J observed was being played by a mixed-gender quintet at one end of the room. The cocks of the male thralls were erect, as they always were when-

Then the thrall stiffened when it saw Her, its slaveneed rushing hotly through it. Behind it, it heard the beautiful thrall make a soft mewling sound.

She was dancing. A tall female thrall, in regalia but with dance shoes rather than bare feet, was leading the Owner around the room. The thrall’s skin was very dark, not much lighter than the black plastic of her regalia, and it made a stark but elegant contrast to the Owner’s jewel green dress and white skin.

The thrall led its Owner into a complicated series of turns, which She executed flawlessly, and the pair of them continued their sweep around the ballroom.

Oh, to be that thrall, so close to Her.

And then the music slowed, as did the dancers, and halted, and the dancing thrall released its owner and stood at attention while She wiped sweat off Her brow and smiled.

“That was marvelous, Thrall E. You have obeyed me well, and should lie down and come now.”

The thrall bent its legs and dropped to a sitting position, then rolled back onto the floor and immediately began to twitch and gasp, one hand flying to the thin plastic over its snatch.

“Thrice more, and stop,” the Owner instructed, and turned as the thrall who had opened the door approached Her.

“My Owner, Your newest acquisition and the thrall which acquired her are here, as You had instructed.”

“Very good, Thrall D,” She replied. She came forward, Thrall D taking a step back and out of her way, and approached Thrall J.

“Ah, my new pet,” She said as she came near. Her eyes turned to Thrall J. “And my devoted Thrall J. You are only the fourth of my slaves to ‘fall in love’, you know. It has proven to be quite an enjoyable method of recruitment, providing me with just the right level of surprise. Let’s both have a look at what you brought me. You may turn.”

Thrall J turned around as its Owner passed by to examine the new thrall. It was shivering, its eyes locked on its Owner, its slaveneed almost overwhelming its ability to stand.

“Be calm, Thrall Q,” the Owner said. She stopped, and looked it over.

Thrall J understood how Thrall Q felt. Only the depth of its enThrallment kept it from shivering as well. It wanted so badly to please Her. Was the new thrall not utterly wonderful? Look at it, Thrall J wished its Owner. Value it. How beautiful it was. How wonderful.

The Owner said nothing, but began to slowly walk around the thrall. Then She spoke: “Well, you are quite a catch. The effort to snare you was, I must say, exorbitant. Almost half a year of resources devoted to the capture. Thrall J’s time is really very valuable. Not to mention having to retool a substantial part of my facility to enThrall someone in a foreign language.” She smiled, a finger touching the thrall’s beautiful dark hair. “Of course, that sort of thing is now always an option in the future. I may have to take some shopping trips to Paris.”

She reached out, and slid a hand down Thrall Q’s backside. “But you are very nice. Wonderful skin, and those fascinating eyes. Spread your legs, Thrall Q.”

Thrall Q complied immediately; the Owner continued circling, stopping when She was once again in front of the thrall, where She bent down to her haunches. “Mmm, and very pretty down here, too,” she observed.

Then Her tongue came out, and she licked Thrall Q’s slit; Thrall Q shuddered and came. The Owner chuckled. “Been waiting for that, I see. Mmm, you taste good, and dancing has made me horny.” Her mouth moved back to the thrall’s cleft, and clung, Her tongue sliding languorously up and down, then Her lips pressing in and sucking, then sliding down until Her tongue came out again and pushed its way up into the thrall’s vagina.

Thrall J was ecstatic. She was pleased! It had obeyed well, and all the time it had spent, and all the heartache, had been worthwhile, because She was pleased.

Thrall J and Thrall D stood at attention and watched as the Owner savored Her new thrall’s pussy. Thrall E lay on its back, staring at the ceiling and awaiting further instruction, as did the thralls with the musical instruments.

After a while, She pulled back with a grin, licking Her lips. She tilted Her head sharply to one side, then the other.

“Mm,” She said, “that can put a crick in your neck.” Then She rose to her feet.

“Thrall D, when is the dance tonight?”

“Nine p.m., my Owner.”

“And when should we leave?”

“Traffic should be light. Perhaps eight-thirty.”

“Very good.” She stepped back to consider Thrall Q again. “I like it. Have it attired and sent to the wet room, along with Thrall J here, at five.”

“Hearing is obeying, my Owner.”

But She did not turn away. “Strange,” She said, reaching out a hand to brush Thrall Q’s face. “You are very beautiful. And a wonderful catch, no question about it. But,” and She looked at Thrall J quizzically, “she’s not really my type. I’d sent you out for a redhead.”

Thrall J blinked. Not Her type? But Thrall J had fallen in love, fallen hard and followed Monique (that was its NAME) for months, because it knew that it was in love it could feel it every time it saw her and that meant that it must acquire the woman for its Owner but its Owner had just said that Thrall Q wasn’t it’s type which could only mean

Thrall J fainted.

Thrall J awoke to confusion and unhappiness.

At first, it did not understand why. Looking around, it realized it was not in its station—it was somewhere else, a white room, lying on a plain bed. It sat up, its lower back feeling strange from having slept in such an unusual position.

Then it remembered.

Monique.

Q.

The thrall shivered, although the room was not cold. What had it done? It had acquired a woman that its owner had not wanted, and it had stripped the woman... the woman... Monique, stripped her of her selfhood and made her a blank-minded thrall.

For no reason.

Tears sprang to its eyes.

Oh Monique, it thought. I’m so sorry. I’m so terribly sorry. I-

I?

The thrall leapt to its feet. There was no ‘I’. There were twenty-five thralls, all of them different on the outside but the exactly the same on the inside, and this one was Thrall J. It was not an ‘I’. It wasn’t!

“Oh please, my Owner, help me,” it whimpered.

Help this thrall.

On the other side of the window, She was watching.

The window was not mirrored. Had the thrall been able to see the window, which took up most of one wall, it could easily have seen Her. But in its mind the window did not exist.

“Remarkable,” She breathed. “I almost wish Autrement was still here. He’d find this quite incredible.”

The thrall at Her elbow said nothing.

“Tell me, Thrall D, did Catherine DePuy believe in true love?”

“This thrall will attempt to remember...” it paused. “No. Catherine DePuy did not believe in true love.”

“Neither did I, thrall.” She watched the miserable form of the thrall in the room slump to the ground. “But here I have a thrall, programmed for immediate attraction to a certain physiotype, who by all indications fell head over heels in love for a woman who was very different from that type. And the thrall’s controller tells me that, throughout the course of the acquisition, the thrall’s behavior displayed slight irregularities whenever it was thinking about that woman.” She inhaled, and a small smile danced onto Her lips.

“Caress me, Thrall D.”

The thrall stepped forward, its hands finding Her body, sliding slowly over Her silk blouse, along Her sides, around to cup Her breasts, down lightly across Her belly.

“Mmm. Yes. I’m not quite certain what to do with it, Thrall D. I don’t doubt that Newlander would advise me to wipe it, turn it into a zombie and send it to one of his workshops. Always err on the safe side, he’d say. Take my blouse off.”

Thrall D’s nimble fingers flowed upward, quickly working the buttons through their holes, and sliding the garment back and off Her shoulders.

“And the bra. But safe... safe is so uninteresting. And I have a thrall here who actually appears to have fallen in love at first sight.”

“May this thrall speak, my Owner?”

“Yes.”

“Did the acquisition return the thrall’s affection?”

“A very interesting question, thrall. I must go ask it. Take off my skirt—I must remember to wear a looser one the next time I attend one of those things. I love to dance, but this is just not the skirt for it. No, leave the panties. I’m rather fond of them.”

Nearly naked, the only female in the building wearing shoes, She looked at the slumped pile of unhappiness in the room, and sighed.

“It does bother, Thrall D, to see my thrall so unhappy. After all, my gift to you is joy, the joy of obedience—freedom from melancholy in exchange for every atom of your will. It displeases me to find myself not upholding my end of the bargain.”

She turned. “Summon a housekeeping thrall to deal with the clothes, summon Thrall J’s controller to speak with me here, and have the new Thrall Q brought to the green room.”

“Hearing is obeying, my Owner.”

Thrall J was on its knees, sniffling.

It felt terrible—it knew that it should not, that it should be beyond emotions other than the pleasure of obedience, but it did, and its guilt at feeling so bad only made it feel worse.

The door opened, and it looked up.

It was Thrall A, its controller, its skin a shiny golden color.

“Controller,” Thrall J said, stumbling to its feet. “Th-this thrall awaits instruction.”

“Thrall J,” it said. “Are you sad?”

The word threw Thrall J. “Y—? Th-this thrall is... it is sad. It knows it should not be, but it cannot help it.”

“Why is it sad?”

“It felt... it felt love, for the target. And the target was not what its Owner wanted, which means that the thrall enThralled a woman it loved, for no reason. Mistakenly.”

Thrall A nodded impassively. It was wearing a headset, with a speaker curled around near its mouth. A green light went on under one ear.

The light went off.

“Thrall J,” it asked, “is it bad to be enThralled?”

“No. Not... not for this thrall. But...”

“But?”

“But it doesn’t... didn’t... Monique would not have wanted to become a thrall.”

“And it loved Monique.”

“Yes,” the thrall said, eyes filling with water.

The light went on again, and off.

“Did the thrall love Monique, Thrall J, or did Moira Frost love her?”

It blinked. “It... there is no Moira Frost. The thrall itself must have loved Monique.”

“How about... Megan Clark? Did she love Monique?”

“It, Megan...?” The thrall’s eyes fell, as it probed something inside itself. “It... no. There is no Megan Clark. Megan Clark was removed so that this thrall could be born. Megan Clark is irrelevant.”

Thrall A nodded just slightly, and Thrall J felt a touch of happiness. It was not so far gone.

“Is the thrall unhappy because it failed its Owner?”

“No. It was, when it realized that it had obeyed incorrectly, but then its Owner forgave it. Its Owner is so kind,” it added in a heartfelt tone.

The thralls stared at each other. The light went on, and off.

“The thrall will wait here,” Thrall A stated. It pivoted, and left the room.

Thrall J remained at attention. The visit had calmed it—the Owner knew of its trouble, and was taking steps. The awful hurt in its heart would be remedied. She would help the thrall, as She always did.

Erasure would be better than this. Let a new thrall take its place, a thrall who knew nothing at all aside from obedience. No accounting, no Central Park, and no love.

The door opened again.

It was Thrall Q.

“Hello, Thrall J,” it said.

Thrall A stood at attention in the observation room. From this side, it could see the window, and Thrall J on the other side of it. Or could have, were its Owner not present and commanding all of its attention. She was in heels and a pair of high-cut pink panties, and She was all that it could see.

“You did well, Thrall A,” She said. “You may come.”

Thrall A shivered as it obeyed.

“Thrall D,” the Owner said, “have a thrall bring up some sedatives. I may need to have Thrall J sedated.”

“Hearing is obeying, my Owner.”

“But hopefully not. Let’s see how my new slave does.”

“The, th—, Thrall Q,” it stammered.

“I didn’t know,” Thrall Q said, walking towards Thrall J, then turning slowly to walk around it. “I didn’t know so much. What you were. What you wanted. What you were going to do to me.”

Thrall J just stared. It was using ‘I’—it was talking like Monique Vereaux. But Monique was-

“Monique?” it managed.

“No.” It stopped, and fixed Thrall J with its beautiful blue eyes. “I’m Thrall Q. Now, and forever. It’s all I want. You know that.”

“Yes.”

“’But’, you are wondering, ‘why is it using the first person pronoun, when it is a thrall?’” It grinned. “Special dispensation. She,” and it shivered a little as it said it, “told me to.”

“Monique,” Thrall J said, swallowing, “I- this thrall- I, I am so sorry.”

Thrall Q looked at it for a moment, then came forward, taking it in its arms. “I know,” it said. “I know. You loved Monique. I know. She knew.”

Its breath was warm and soft, its skin the same. The need to kiss it flickered up and down Thrall J’s spine.

“She was afraid of you. Afraid not because you loved her, but because she loved you, too. She did, Thrall J. She loved you.”

Thrall J sobbed.

Thrall Q held Thrall J in its arms as Thrall J’s knees gave out, and the two of them gently sank to the floor. It held Thrall J as it wept, and stroked its hair.

“Shh, shh. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay, Megan.”

“Not Megan,” Thrall J sniffled. “Thrall.”

“Do you want to be Megan?”

Thrall J looked into Thrall Q’s eyes. They were so beautiful.

“No.”

“Do you think I want to be Monique?”

Thrall J sniffled again. “I, it, this thrall... doesn’t think so.”

“Of course I don’t. I want to be a thrall, I am a thrall, I’m Thrall Q. It’s the best thing ever, Thrall J. Don’t you know that?”

Snif. “Yes. But...”

“No, Thrall J. There is no ‘but’. That is the truth, that is all there is. You know that.”

“Y-yes. You’re right.”

“Of course I am. And... Thrall J? I know you loved Monique. But... can’t you love me?”

Thrall J shivered. It was there, on a precipice, and it could feel it. Feel the cold air whipping past its naked body as it hung in space. It could feel the decision, waiting.

It looked into Thrall Q’s eyes, and chose.

“No,” it said. “This thrall loves its Owner. It... feels strongly about Thrall Q, and enjoys being with it. But it,” the thrall took a deep breath, “it loves only its Owner.”

Thrall Q smiled softly, and kissed it.

Both thralls were at attention when She came in.

Thrall Q was standing proudly; it knew it had obeyed and obeyed well. Its brain still burned with the truth of its thralldom; the implanted truths and programmed beliefs glowed in its mind, and the light of their certainty showed in its eyes.

Although in the same position, hands at its sides and slightly behind, chest held high, ankles inches from the floor, Thrall J’s eyes communicated not certainty, but need.

She smiled at them.

“You have done well, Thrall Q,” She said, and watched it twitch. “You will now leave with Thrall A; I am reassigning you from Thrallgroup 7 to Thrallgroup 2, with Thrall J. There is programming you must absorb. Go now.”

“Hearing is obedience,” Thrall Q stated, and followed Thrall A into the hallway.

The Owner turned her eyes to Thrall J.

“My poor Thrall J. This hasn’t been easy, has it?”

“No, my Owner.”

“You chose me over her.”

Thrall J’s jaw twitched, but it did not respond.

“Explain that.”

“This thrall... this thrall felt love for Monique Vereaux. True love. But it only felt love.” It licked its lips. “It is obedience.”

“Do go on,” She said, stepping forward, Her high black heels clicking softly on the floor.

“This thrall is a thrall. Its obedience defines it, creates it. It exists to obey. To obey you, its Owner. If it chose love over obedience... it would not be a thrall. It would be nothing.”

“And does it also love me?” She asked.

“It does. It loves you because you give it life. You give it purpose. It loved Monique... it does not know why it loved her. But it cannot love her the way it loves you.”

She was behind it now, and Her hand came down softly on its shoulder.

“But you do love her?”

“It... yes. It does love her, still.”

“Monique, or Thrall Q?”

“Monique Vereaux is gone. There is only Thrall Q. This thrall loves Thrall Q.”

“Interesting.” She had both hands on it now, moving forward, and now it felt the tips of Her breasts press into its back. “And if I told you to stab Thrall Q to death with a spoon?”

“It would obey. It would obey without hesitation. Because it is a thrall.”

“Marvelous.” She was hugging it, enfolding it. “You are a wonderful thrall, Thrall J, and I am very fond of you. I do not want to see you suffer, so I shall offer you something. You are to be re-programmed; obviously, I cannot have my thralls believe that women are not better off as thralls. An oversight. But we shall use you and once you are ecstatic that your beloved Monique has become a thrall because you love her, then I shall add that programming to all of my thralls’ minds.”

She nibbled at Thrall J’s ear. “And afterwards,” she whispered, “I could pair you with Thrall Q. Put your stations next to each other, have you employed at the same location. Have you come to fuck me as a pair. Would you like that?”

“It... my Owner. It would... request... that You not re-program it as You have said. That this thrall not be happy for what it has done to Monique. Because every moment that it remembers what it has done, it also remembers that it chose You over her.

“And it rejoices.”

She sighed. “What a wonderful creature you are, Thrall J. Truly precious to Me. Very well, I shall develop this new belief in other minds, and you alone among my thralls shall not be programmed with it. But do not be surprised if you and Thrall Q perform for me rather more frequently than chance would indicate.”

“All must be as my Owner wishes.”

“And it is, Thrall J. Thank you.” The hands slid off.

“Now, my panties have become quite soaked through. Remove them, and service me.”

Although winter’s chill was beginning to infiltrate the fall breeze, the sidewalk cafe was bustling. Waiters in white half-aprons carried salads and sandwiches and glasses of wine to business people in suits and a few tourists in windbreakers.

Monique sat across the table from Moira, and looked up with a smile as the waiter put down their glasses of wine. She was beautiful, her long dark hair cascading around her shoulders and rearranging itself as she moved her head.

“To the future,” Monique said, raising her glass.

“To the future,” Moira echoed.

They were launching a new venture together—a consulting firm specializing in political and financial analyses. With Moira’s talent and Monique’s connections, they already had enough work to keep them busy well through the spring.

Moira savored the rich Cabernet, swirling it around her mouth before putting the glass back down.

“We’re going to need help,” she told her partner. “We can’t finish the Shell report by the deadline without more people.”

“I have been informed that help is already being procured for us,” Monique replied with a little smile.

Moira returned it. “Wonderful.”

“It is.”

“Monique? Hi!”

A third woman had joined them at the table—a black woman, skin the color of coffee, her hair straightened and pulled back into a ponytail. She was in a smart tan suit, and held a valise.

“Hello, Trisha,” Monique said warmly, standing up, refusing the extended hand and sweeping her arms around the woman in a hug. “It’s a pleasure to see you. Trisha,” she added, stepping back, “this is my partner, Moira.”

“A pleasure,” Moira said, extending her hand.

“The pleasure is mine, although I doubt Monique’s former colleagues would say the same. They’re really flailing without you, Monique.”

Monique laughed. “Let them. I’ve had more pleasure in my new position than in all the years I worked for those guys. Plus I’m making a lot more money.”

“That’s fantastic. How’s Yvonne?”

“Enjoying college.”

“Princeton, right?”

“Actually, she had a last minute change of heart and went to California. SCU.”

“Huh. But she likes it there?”

“She loves it. She’s living with a friend of mine out there until she finds a place to stay.”

“You still in that place on Stuyvesant?”

“Nope. Moira here got me into a fantastic co-op on the East side, right by the park.”

“Girl, you are living a charmed life.”

Monique gave Moira a tender glance, and slid a hand across the table to touch her. “I sure am,” she replied, as they looked into each others’ eyes.

Trisha was shaking her head in feigned disbelief. “You’re a marvel, Monique. Hey, I’ve got to go. Keep in touch!”

“Absolutely.” Monique beamed at her.

They watched Trisha stroll away, then Monique turned to face Moira.

“She is to be acquired,” it said in a low voice.

They smiled into each other’s eyes, and more than obedience glittered there.