The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Michael felt the chloroformed rag being clamped over his mouth. He struggled for a moment then felt his body just give in to it. It was her again, the one who had drugged him and programmed him. He found himself saying, “I am your sex toy.”

He knew in that moment he would do whatever she wished. He was an owned man, owned by the mysterious lady dressed in black leather. She had invaded his mind and repeatedly come back for him. Every time he vowed that she would not get to him, and every time she had him just as she had had him before. Falling deeper under her control, giving in like a good boy. What were the chains she had wound so tightly around his mind? Why did his body respond to her every touch like a programmed computer? Every time she had him like this he longed for her, needed her touch, craved her control. It was as powerful as the drugs she used on him. His want, ache, and need ever increasing. She owned him and he wanted to be owned. There was only her, he was drowning in her….

Michael woke up from a restless sleep. He had been tossing and turning and his body was drenched in sweat. He’d had another dream about her. In reality, she had not come back to him since that first night. It had been a year since his encounter with her, yet she still continued to haunt him. During the day he often felt like he was being watched, and when he’d look all he would see was a shadowy figure disappearing around the corner. Or maybe he was just that paranoid, who knows? She came to him in his dreams often, drugging him and programming him in any way she saw fit. You’d have thought that he’d be over it by now, but he wasn’t. She was just as vivid a memory to him now as she was on that day. Long hair, red lips, black leather on her body…the memory still made his breathing become harder, almost as though his body were conditioned to respond that way.

She had told him she’d be back for him in a phone call, but maybe he’d just imagined that. A few times the phone had rung, and nobody was on the other end. He knew it was probably just a prerecorded solicitation, but his heart would race anyway. Sometimes he tried to pretend the whole thing had been a dream, but he knew it wasn’t. She had been real, but the call had probably just been her way of making him squirm. Had she really been watching him all this time surely something would have happened.

He almost slapped himself as he realized that he was somewhat disappointed at the idea that she might never come back for him. Stupid men, women really knew what they were talking about when they said men think with the little head. God she was sexy though.

Forcing himself back to reality he looked at the clock and realized he’d overslept, his alarm must not have gone off. He hurried off to the shower and tried to wash his thoughts away along with the sweat on his body. He distracted himself with thoughts of what to wear and what needed to be done at work that day. By the time he got to work he’d wiped thoughts of her clean away, at least for now.

It was a busy day at work. It was Friday and Michael, like everyone else, was eager to be finished and get a jump on the weekend. He got so busy he did not even eat lunch. He got a lot of work accomplished and felt that satisfied glow of a job well done.

He couldn’t wait to leave and relax after a week of hard work. Maybe he’d even start the weekend by going for a drink at that bar, the one where he’d met her. Of course, he’d not returned to that bar since that night. Oh, he’d walk by it to be sure and long to walk in, but something always held him back. Fear of running into her again, or maybe not wanting to be disappointed when she wasn’t there. No need to analyze it, tonight he was in the mood to go and by God he was going to go.

He drove to the bar and walked to the door. He felt a little nervous again, but that was silly. She wasn’t going to be there. That had been a fluke, a one time encounter. Nevertheless, he hesitated before going in. Then he walked in and sat at his favorite table.

He looked around, some of the faces were familiar and some were not, but he saw no sign of the lady who, for one night, had owned him completely. His waitress was unfamiliar to him, but was friendly and attractive and brought him his rum and coke in a timely fashion. As he drank he breathed deeply and relaxed. It had been a long week. Work had simply been deadline after deadline, to the point that he’d considered buying a cot and setting up housekeeping until these deadline crunches had passed.

It must have taken its toll because he suddenly realized just how very tired he was. His body felt strangely heavy and his eyes were having trouble focusing. He’d had only the one drink so he knew it wasn’t the alcohol; he certainly had a higher tolerance than that. Sleepiness overcame his mind and body, and he suddenly realized he should just go home and collapse before he fell asleep here in the bar. The noises of the people talking around him seemed strangely distant and muffled. When he looked at the exit door it struck him how very far away it was from the table. He wondered if he should call a cab, maybe skipping lunch was causing this drink to have a bigger effect on him than it should.

As he sat there trying to regain control of senses, he felt a hand on his shoulder. “You look like you could use some help,” said a familiar female voice.

Who was it? It must be his waitress. In a fog he told her he probably needed a cab to get home.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you,” said the voice. He felt her hand take his and she helped him out of the chair. Blindly he followed her thinking they were going to get a phone to call a cab (in his fogginess he’d forgotten that he had a cell phone). Then he realized they were at the exit. Meekly he started to protest that he was in no shape to drive home, in fact, his legs were so rubbery underneath him he wasn’t sure he could even walk to the car.

His protests were met with a quiet “shhhhhhh” and he felt his words die on his lips. He followed her and was sat down in the passenger seat of a car. He was vaguely aware that this wasn’t his car. He started to tell her where he lived, how kind of her to drive him home. Again he was shhhh’d and again he complied. “Did you miss me love?” said that voice. It wasn’t the waitress, it was her and she’d come back for him. Before he could answer the world went black and he passed out.

He awakened to unfamiliar surroundings. His vision was still blurry and his mind was having trouble developing a coherent thought. Mentally, he beat himself up. He’d asked for this, returning to the scene of the crime. Perhaps deep down part of him wanted it, but now that it was a reality he was scared. He didn’t know where he was or what she was planning to do with him. Maybe this time she’d physically harm him. Frantically he tried to figure a way out of this mess. His body was uncooperative though, acting as though it was glued to the bed. He was so heavy, fuzzily he wondered if he’d been drugged. He heard her voice speaking to him, how could he have not known that was her voice? “Good morning” she whispered in a soft, low tone. “I hope you didn’t think I’d forgotten about you. Sorry about the little drug I slipped in your drink when the waitress left it sitting on the bar for a moment, but it had been so long I was worried you wouldn’t recognize me and I needed your compliance. You see Mike” (oh he hated to be called Mike, only his mother called him that), “I never did forget about you. I have been watching you.”

She continued to speak, and her words let him know that he had not just been paranoid this last year. “Those times you felt a pair of eyes on you, that was me. The times your phone rang and nobody was there, that was me. I am sure I even visited in you in your dreams.” His flushed face told her she was correct and she smiled. “I know all about you; your every habit, your every move. I know your favorite restaurants, your favorite TV shows, how you look when you sleep. I watched you, knowing how completely you belonged to me, wondering how I could make you understand this also. You remember how you told me you were my sex toy don’t you Mike?”

Meekly I nodded. Her hands began to roam around my body, which I had only just realized was stripped of all clothing. She then put a pair of headphones over my ears. Her voice spoke to me from them. It is hard to remember what the voice said, I only knew that what resistance I had left in me was slowly flowing out. I ached for her touch, I ached for her lips. Was that my voice I heard over the headphones, pleading to be taken and used? Where were these words coming from?

I had a vague notion that I was being told to do those things, but why was I complying? Pledging my eternal devotion to her, and feeling I meant it. That I would serve her in any way she wished. My body was hers to use, my mind was hers to program. I needed her, had to be with her, that she had to keep me. All the while her lips kissed me in all the right places, her hands stroked me in all the ways I loved. She knew me so well, we were meant to be. I would do anything to be kept, craved her control.

Her boy, her toy, anything for her. Her voice kept whispering in my ear through the headphones, my body so lost in the pleasure that thoughts were becoming harder and harder to manage. My breathing quickened, my body became hot with want, I was sure I was glowing red from my desire for her. My cock was so hard I thought surely I was going to explode if I didn’t release, but somewhere I knew I needed permission. I pleaded with her to give me that permission. The headphones came off and I felt her breath in my ear.

“We need to teach you a lesson in obedience love.” Desperately I continued to plead for that orgasm, saying I would do anything she wanted and knowing it was true. “Uh uh” she whispered and the stroking stopped. She told me I needed to sleep, reminded me how the drug was still in my system and how it was too much effort to stay awake. In spite of myself I found I was still sleepy, that staying awake was taking a lot of effort. I moaned and still made weak pleas. Then I felt that rag, like the one she’d used before, pressing over my mouth and that smell filled my nostrils. I passed out almost immediately.

She was not done with me. When I groggily woke back up she allowed me to take care of business in the bathroom then brought me some food and drink, which she proceeded to feed to me. I was very hungry, realizing I had not eaten since breakfast. I inhaled the food, a hamburger and fries, and washed it down with the soda she’d brought me. I drank so fast that it wasn’t until the last drop has been drank that I realized the soda had a slightly funny taste to it. As it dawned on me that I’d probably been drugged again I saw a faint smile cross her lips. Those red lips that I so longed for.

“Just sleep,” she told me. Lay down and let me take care of you. She told me how she’d been looking for the one who would completely belong to her, and that she’d come to the conclusion it was me. Her voice told me how I would feel compelled to come whenever she called, be hers and obey her every command.

Nothing in my life would be more important that her wants and needs. I internalized this and somehow knew it was true. I adored her, worshipped her, and wanted to be hers in every way. I didn’t even realize I was verbalizing this until I heard the sound of my own voice.

She was wearing a short little black nightie, had she been wearing that earlier? I couldn’t even remember. I felt her warm body over my limp body, and in spite of the drugs my cock sprang to life. Her lips found my neck and sucked, almost as though my will was being sucked away. I moaned words of adoration and promises of obedience. Her wet sex found my cock and I shivered in pleasure as she enveloped me inside of her. Her hips came up and down on me, slowly at first then faster. It wasn’t long before I knew I needed release. I begged for it and found my voice silenced with her kiss. When I felt her body spasm and her juices flowing down my leg I knew she’d cum, and my longing to cum became that much harder. I pleaded with her to let me, promised eternal devotion to her.

When that rag was clamped over my mouth I knew my pleas had fallen on deaf ears. I fought the urge to sleep, wanting so badly to cum but it was an effort in futility. I passed out before I could finish.

The rest of the weekend was like that. She took me and used me, programmed me while pleasuring me, and in the end denied me. I was putty in her hands and she knew it. Whether it was the drugs, the suggestions whispered in my ear, or the continued denial of orgasm I had no will left of my own. I was hers to do with as she wished, helpless. I lost track of time, it ceased to have meaning. I wondered if she’d let me go and realized I wasn’t sure I cared if she did. The fog over my mind never completely lifted.

I was only vaguely aware of being dressed in the clothes I’d been wearing when she took me, my rubbery legs could barely make it to the car. The wet rag over my mouth assured my unconsciousness for the drive, I had a vague moment of wondering if she was sending me home before my mind went blank. When I regained consciousness I was back in my own car. She was gone and it was dark out. There was a typed note on the passenger seat. I rubbed my eyes and focused on the words. It said this:

It is Sunday night and you need to drive home and rest for work tomorrow. I think you understand now that you cannot escape your need for me, and I don’t intend to let you even if you try. I will be back for you very soon.

After my head cleared a bit I drove home and laid in bed. It was hard to sleep though because thoughts of her continued to invade my mind. Did she really plan on coming back for me? I thought about her touching me, kissing me, fucking me. The thoughts sparked arousal deep inside of me and I found that I was touching myself. Drowning in her body, being stroked by her, wanting her, and I stroked harder and faster. That ache again, that need, so close….she wasn’t here now to control me so I could finally get that final bit of relief I’d craved. So close….yet it wasn’t happening. I was almost there, why couldn’t I finish? Permission, I needed permission. That didn’t make sense, she wasn’t here so why did I need her to tell me I could come. Yet somehow I knew I did, I moaned loudly in frustration. Finally I just took a cold shower and somehow managed to get some sleep.

As the days past my fixation on her grew, much stronger than it had been before. It was as though I was addicted, and I continued to be unable to find sexual release. I had to find her and lure her back. There had to be a way, I was now as fixated on her as she seemed to be on me. I’d find her, and this time, she might be surprised.