The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Anna was on her knees.

That was all she could remember. The entirety of her existence from The First Time had been on her knees. The rest shifted in her mind in infinite ways—morbid, black and white still, brilliant portraits of possession and power. The rest turned monochrome, red, translucent. It was varied and different, true, but it all seemed to be one thing. She tried to picture shapes. But she could not.

She tried to remember. She was allowed to. Not being allowed to remember anything would be too much; would make her useless. Not entirely useless, true, but about as functional as a table. Tables sat on for legs. Anna could not get on all fours.

Anna was on her knees. She was made to wait like this for long stretches. This taught her how to behave. She was sure that she behaved, that she behaved well. Fulfilled the full extent of her duties, herself, the other members. She was sure she did.

Anna was sure of it. She knew that she had been good. Good Girl. That was the voice. Not good, by itself, a Good Girl. The G became capitalised when it was spoke, growing out of the air into a real, living thing. It echoed in her ears, her empty mind. She would here the words and tense her mouth, as if to catch it as it passed.

Anna was a Good Girl. She was sure of it. She had done all that was asked for her. When brought forward, she had submitted. When commanded, she had obeyed. When told to recruit, she had.

She had never failed. She would never fail. How could one fail when she was a Good Girl? She knew this to be true. But in her limited capacity, she knew she was a Good Girl, and that was enough.

She knew other things. Her mind had been wired around her sex, her ability to give and receive. She did when asked, because she was a Good Girl.

She loved pleasure. She loved giving pleasure, receiving it. She accepted it as part of her being. It was obvious, really. How did she not realise it long before? The voices were true. A Good Girl loves pleasure. This was so.

Anna was on her knees. She was allowed this time to reflect. The voices in the room repeated, over and over. But they were not new commands. She knew her commands. She understood what would happen before she was asked. Because she was a Good Girl.

But the voices gave her thoughts shape. Out of the black and white stills, the brilliant colours, her thoughts gained life. They became real. She understood.

She remembered. Being taken was a wonderful thing. Anna had been meaning to meet a friend, had taken a wrong turn into the door of the underground church. She was lost. Confused. But she saw the light, got on her knees, and began to learn.

She remembered. Undressing the first time, in front of her new masters. Men and Women. She undressed for them, and serviced them. At first, she grabbed the members of her masters with anxiety. But she got better.

She remembered. Training her body. Learning how to improve. How to overcome her fears. How to get better. How to become a Good Girl.

She remembered. When she became a Good Girl. Dressed in a tight black catsuit, her juices dripping down her thigh as she ate out her Mistress with relish, a real passion that she never knew she had.

She remembers. The words. Such a Good Girl. The first time. They dripped over her like sunshine, her eyes open, her mind open to new ideas, more possibilities. Possibilities to serve.

She remembered. She never understood how please women, but she learnt to be attracted to them. She learnt how please herself, and please others of her kind.

She remembered. Her first catch. A lonely student at a college bar. Her thin glasses on her small nose, barely propped out. She tasted like the first day of February.

She remembered. The voices gave everything shape. She remembered. She was allowed to remember, because she was a Good Girl.

She felt herself drip. Dripping out of her. It fell on the floor. She did not move. She did not have to. She did not have to.

So natural. So much better like this. Was this not the way of things? The rule of the few over the many? It had been the way of life for centuries, but now young women, such as herself, were brought up to succeed, push themselves, demand respect.

No. Wrong. Anna knew it was wrong. She had learnt. She had seen the light, She understood.

Anna was on her knees. She sighed. She became aware of her body. She was allowed to. She breathed through her nose, as she was trained to. Air filled her body, and she stored it for a moment.

She remembered. Her training. Breath in, through your nose. And out through your mouth.

She did. The Air became a physical manifestation of her thoughts. her worries. She let them go. She let them all go. Not all at once. In little drips and drabs, little moments of her life being let out of her, bit by bit.

She started to forget. The first time. Her first catch. The words disappeared, and with them the images lost meaning, a patchwork of things, of whatever, of... she could not find the words. Because she had no words.

The voices were louder now. They provided everything she needed. They were tinny, the quality of the speaker system a little defunct, worse for wear. But they still had their power. It did not matter that they were repeated, the quality of them static. Words have power, no matter how they are produced.

Anna was on her knees, because the voices told her to do so. They always told her to. Anna understood that a Good Girl understands the demands of her Masters and Mistresses. She understood that she needed some form of independence. Not an independence of spirit, of will, but of duty—a duty to her betters. She knew how to please her betters. She understood her duty.

That was what she was there for. That was what a Good Girl did.

Duty. The voices reminded her of her duty. To serve. To obey. The words repeated themselves. To serve. To obey.

Anna understood. She had been taught this lesson many, many times before. She had heard this lesson the First Time. She had heard this lesson after she had been called a Good Girl for the first time.

The voices were an old friend that put an arm over her shoulder. They allowed her to remember her sense of self, who she was in the world, who she belonged to. They were a sense of comfort, reminding her of her duty. To serve. To obey.

Those words again. They went back and forth in her head, a furious tennis rally. She let them. They fitted in her mind perfectly well, a perfect pair. The voices had paused, giving her time to reflect.

She spent the time batting the ideas in her head. Those two little ideas.

To serve. To obey.

She mouthed them out loud. She wanted to shout them to the world, to strangers on the street. Why couldn’t they understand what she knew? She had been shown that she was nothing at all, that she belonged to someone else, and in that place Anna had become free. Truly free. Servitude gave her place in the world.

Her hands were allowed to wonder. She had accepted the lesson. She moved a hand down to her dripping, wet cunt. The mere touch of her fingers was enough to make her cum. It was everything.

She smiled. Anna was not allowed to smile. But she didn’t mind. She knew that she was the only one here. Anna, for one more fleeting moment, realised that her betters really loved her, loved the way she dressed for them, the way she undressed for them, the way she pleased them, herself, her fellow slaves. She knew. And it was great. It was simple and great. All of it.

An original thought. The voices did not recognise it. The voices were over. The thought remained in Annas mind, driftwood on an open sea.

She did not say anything. She was in love with it all. She knew it. She felt it. She did not have to fight it—she just wanted it to keep going, to strip away at her, so she could belong, belong even further that she had before.

She pulled her hands away from her cunt. She smelled the sex, which brought her out of her stupor. She was going to leave the room, rejoin the others for the evenings soiree. Then recruitment the next day. Then back in here.

She waited. Anna was on her knees. For a few moments more, that was where she wanted to be.