The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Story 1: “Curfew”

Donna checked her watch fearfully. Three minutes to Curfew and three blocks to go. She ran as fast as she could, hoping to get home in time. Two minutes left, two and a half blocks to go. Damn! She pushed herself harder, praying she would make it. She had gone halfway up the final block when she heard her alarm signal that it was eight o’clock, and that she was in violation of Curfew. She hurried, hoping to be home before the Agents picked up on her signal. She rounded the corner and discovered an Agent waiting for her at the foot of the porch. She skidded to a halt and took off in another direction. Something like a large Chinese finger trap rose from the sidewalk, and when it receded, a second Agent stood in her path, an exact carbon copy of his compatriot at the porch. I wouldn’t have to worry about Curfew if I could do that. Donna thought with regret even as she fled whatever unknown fate awaited her. All she knew was that Curfew violators never returned.

A third Agent appeared in front of her, lunging forward and clasping her arms in a technorganically-enhanced grip. He pulled her into an alley and the other two Agents followed. Donna cried for help, but no one dared violate Curfew by leaving their apartments, especially to help her resist arrest. One of the Agents pulled a device from his pocket and affixed a microchip to the end of it—a microchip with an inch-long stem. Donna was frozen in terror. She had no desire to find out what that chip was for. The Agent with the chip pulled her long, platinum-blonde hair up and pressed the chip against the base of her skull. There was a sharp pain as the chip was implanted. Donna tried to cry out in anguish, but her body no longer responded to her commands. She could see the reflection of her expressionless face in the mirrored shades of the Agent who held her. Suddenly her body jerked, turning to face the Agent which had implanted the chip. But it really didn’t matter which Agent she was facing. They all looked exactly the same. The same stain-proof black suit, the same mirrored shades, the same military haircut, the same Roman nose, the same square jaw with a cleft in the chin, the same technorganically-enhanced musculature and endurance, the same lack of personality, the same medium-tan skin tone. The Agent she faced held a device the size of a calculator in one hand. He tapped a series of commands into the device and Donna’s hands went to her blouse. Another series of commands to the device caused her hands to rip her blouse to tattered shreds. Her feet kicked her shoes off. Her slacks received a similar treatment to that of the blouse. Her panties, socks and bra quickly followed. Another series of commands forced her to lay down on the filthy concrete and spread her legs. Another set activated her endocrine system, flooding her vagina with lubricant and hardening her nipples. NO! she wanted to scream as she realized what was happening, but she was powerless to stop the rape from happening. The Agents took turns with her, their carbon-copy penises mercilessly slamming into her as she wailed silently, a prisoner in her own skull. Donna didn’t know how many times she was raped. Each Agent looked exactly the same, and quickly made way for the next one as soon as his own semen was ejaculated into her. Suddenly there was a blur of motion, and one of the Agents was down. The attacker was out of Donna’s field of view, but she was grateful for the surcease from the rape. Twice an energy weapon discharged, then the hiss of acid and the scream of a dying Agent. A second and third hiss erupted. Donna’s body jerked to a standing position. A man with medium-length dark hair and dark eyes stood before her. His chin was gently tapered, and he wore the ragged clothes of a renegade. He pushed a button on the stolen device in his hand, and Donna went limp. He caught her as she fell, and lifted her unresisting body to his shoulder. He tapped a button on his belt and a beat-up old skycar appeared. He gently pulled a T-shirt over her head and positioned her in the back seat. Two other people entered the vehicle. Donna couldn’t see anything but the backs of her eyelids, but she felt something being deposited in the seat next to her.

“Mommy?” her daughter’s voice asked. “Mommy? Wake up, please! Mommy, who are these people?”

“Your mommy can’t wake up right now, dear.” said the person who had rescued Donna. “But don’t worry, we’ll help her wake up.”

“Jake’s right.” a female voice said. “We’ve done this lots of times.”

“Everything’s going to be fine, honey.” said a second female.

Donna lost track of time. She felt herself being moved. She felt the T-shirt being removed. She felt herself being placed facedown on a cold, metal table. She felt something press into her arm, then nothing.

Donna opened her eyes several hours later, delighted to find that she could move again. She reached behind her head and was shocked to find the chip still there.

“We couldn’t remove the chip or it would have killed you. We did, however, bypass the immobilization circuitry and the control device. It can’t control you anymore.” The voice was soft, reassuring. A figure emerged from the shadows. Her rescuer stood in the low light offered by the lamp beside her bed.

“Where’s my daughter?” she asked.

“Fifth subbasement, playing with other kids who live here because their parents were victimized by Agents.” the other replied.

“You rescue lots of Curfew violators?” Donna asked.

“Yes.”

“Ever rescue any men?”

“Capture procedure’s different with men.” the other said. “When a man violates Curfew, they simply disappear, the same way the Agents appear and disappear. Why do you ask?”

“My husband was caught out after Curfew four years ago, when I was still pregnant with our daughter. I just thought...” Tears began to flow from her eyes. The other began to leave. “No, wait.”

“I’m at your service.” the man said. “It’s only eleven am.”

“I...it’s been a long time since my husband...disappeared.” she said. “I...I don’t want to be alone right now. Please, stay. Talk to me. Do SOMETHING.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Well, first off, what’s your name? Do you have anyone special in your life? How do you...oh, I’m sorry.”

“Name’s Jake. I don’t have anyone special right now, and as to your aborted “how” question, I’d be happy to show you around and see if we hit on the answer later, when you’re recovered.” They continued talking for hours. Donna wasn’t aware of when or how it happened—maybe it was the stress of the day, maybe she didn’t want her last sexual memory since her husband’s disappearance to be of Agents raping her, maybe she was just lonely—but she found herself on top of Jake, sliding down his shaft, gasping in pleasure as he filled her. Not since she had lost her husband had she felt so complete.

Story 2: “Home Security”

Yuri watched the man leave the house on his fully-restored 1938 Harley. The sign on the wall around the estate read “Danger: Lethal Security System” and there were warning lights all along the wall. Yuri wasn’t sure what kind of system this man had, but she knew that nobody came out alive. Once again she checked her tools. Katana, grapple and rope, shuriken, daggers, acid pellets, smoke bombs, glass cutters, bolas and nerve-gas capsules in case she ran into any servants, multipurpose suckers, climbing gloves, bo staff, and even a manriki-gusari. None of it had disappeared in the last ten minutes. She donned the climbing gloves and scaled the wall. No indication that she had been detected yet. Her ninja training kept her senses on alert at all times. She watched the ground for signs of traps as she moved.

Deep within the bowels of the estate, a computer had noticed movement on the wall. Visual scan confirmed a human intruder. Programming dictated that whenever a human intruder was detected, the programmer was to be notified. The computer notified its programmer. Its programmer requested a visual. The computer complied. Along with the visual, the computer sent an analysis of the intruder’s body shape and skeletal structure, as per its programming. Its programmer sent the command to capture and detain.

A laser bolt came out of nowhere. Yuri dodged it easily, but a second soon followed on its heels. She found herself running a laser gauntlet. She dove into the hedges next to the house and crawled along there. Suddenly she was launched out of the hedges back into the gauntlet. She quickly realized she was being herded, but whatever was controlling the lasers was well-programmed and able to compensate for her ninja agility. Yuri stopped, then suddenly found herself surrounded by laser beams on all sides. The spaces between the beams were too small to fit through, and the beams were moving around, forcing her to put her hands at her sides. Suddenly a swarm of weighted cables was fired, and the lasers disappeared only just in time to allow them to wrap themselves around her. When Yuri was held fast, she began to hear a strange whine. A tank-treaded robot came around the corner. Two flat panels were placed on either side of her head, holding it in place, one of the robot’s hands removed her mask, and then the robot placed something on her forehead. The robot backed off, and the cables let go. Yuri was about to remove it when suddenly it activated. She could no longer control her own body. She had no choice but to watch helplessly as her body walked with the robot into the house, then down a secret ramp deep into the bowels of the house. The robot parked itself in a closet. Yuri was forced to stand there. Sometime during her imprisonment, a second woman, this one obviously a saleswoman, for she didn’t have the body nor the clothing of a burglar. She stood right next to Yuri.

Hours later, Jeremy, the man of the house, returned. He took his time. He poured himself a glass of iced tea, and then helped his butler, Timothy, cook shark steaks and french fries. They made enough for the two of them and for the two women downstairs, and then they descended the ramp. The two ladies were trapped by the “snagger-patches,” as Timothy called them, because they were used to “snag” people. As soon as they were standing before their captives, they set the food down on one of the file desks nearby, then Jeremy told the computer to allow independent movement above the shoulders. The young ninja’s face became a scowl, and the other woman started to cry.

“Your names?” Jeremy asked.

“Cora.” said the crier. The ninja said nothing. Jeremy pinched her left breast, but she did not cry out or anything.

“Computer.” Jeremy said. “Force disclosure of name of subject in space 1.” The ninja’s face began to contort with the effort of trying to fight the computer, but eventually she lost.

“Yuri.” she said. Jeremy noticed that Timothy had already begun questioning Cora. He kept his voice calm and kind. Cora had been born in England, but had moved to Maine because her father had gotten a job there. After she became a citizen of the US, she had gotten in trouble with a Maine crime-syndicate, and had to move to Mississippi, where she got a job as a door-to-door sales representative. She began to beg to be set free. Jeremy questioned Yuri, but got nothing but scowls and growls.

“Computer, lower the mental defenses of the subject in Space 1.” Yuri’s expression changed. “Alright, Yuri, tell me about yourself.” he said. Yuri told him that she had been in training to become a ninja or as long as she could remember, then at age thirteen she had surpassed all her sensei and been granted the title of full ninja. Since then, he had been working as a contract assassin here in America, going wherever the money was. She had no birth certificate and no social security number. She had been hired by Microsoft to kill Jeremy and steal the AI chips he had been developing. Jeremy walked up to the computer and began tapping commands into the keyboard. He pressed ENTER and Yuri went rigid as the computer began to alter her mind to fit the commands he’d typed. Jeremy removed the patch from her forehead, and she collapsed into his arms.

“You can have Cora.” Jeremy told Timothy.

“Thank you, sir.” Timothy replied. “Yuri’s a bit too exotic for my taste. Yes, I think Cora and I will get along just fine. I probably won’t have to do much reprogramming.”

Yuri’s eyes came open. All the hatred was gone. She simply stared up at Jeremy as though he’d just given her the best fuck ever. “What can I do for you, Master?” she asked.

Story 3: “The Crystal Necklace”

“Wow, Jim! That’s gorgeous!” Tina said. Tina was the head of the debate team, and always dressed conservatively. Her hair was done up in a bun, and her skirt was long, but it gave the thrill of the unknown. Jim was the timekeeper for the team. He got to watch the stopwatch. Boring. Still, it kept him out of study hall, which was even more boring. He’d just bought the necklace at a pawn shop for three bucks. There was a crystal on it, held in a gold, clawed hand, like a dragon’s talon or something. He held it by the clasp to show her the length, but her eyes fixed on the crystal. He saw flashes of light on her face, and her face lost its expression.

“Tina?” he asked.

“Hmm?” she replied, not taking her eyes from the crystal.

“C’mon, Tina, the way you’re acting someone would think you were in a trance.”

“Trance.” Tina repeated. They were alone in the room, since the rest of the team had left. He looked at the crystal swinging in his hand. There seemed to be a strange luster about it. He could definitely feel some kind of energy coming from the crystal. The possibilities seemed endless, if the crystal really had the power to hypnotize people.

“Okay, Tina, if you’re in a trance, then take off your jacket.”

“Offfffff...” she said, removing the jacket.

“Okay, how about the blouse?”

“Bloussssse.” Tina said, removing the blouse, leaving her front-hook bra and her pearl necklace as the only things on her chest.

“Now the skirt.” Jim said. The skirt fell to the floor. “The shoes and stockings.” Those came off. Tina never took her eyes off the crystal. Jim palmed the necklace, and Tina was staring blankly at nothing. Apparently the crystal had put her into trance, and he would have to bring her out of it himself. He unclasped the bra and took off her pearls. He pulled her panties off with his teeth. He let her hair down. She was gorgeous! Her pussy was wet and her nipples were as erect as any he’d ever seen. “Why are you wet?” he asked.

“I feel so helpless.” she replied. “I feel submissive... obedient...enslaved.”

“Are you my slave?” Jim asked.

“Yes.” she replied.

“If you’re my slave, then get on your hands and knees.” She obeyed. Jim came around behind her, dropped his pants and boxers, and penetrated her virgin cunt from behind. She moaned as he fucked her, using her tits as handles and tweaking the nipples occasionally. When he finished, he dressed her again, but he left her hair down, and he kept her undergarments.

“Listen to me, Tina.” he said, waving the necklace in front of her eyes again. “From now on you will do whatever I tell you to, even when you’re not in trance. You won’t remember what happened while you were in trance. You will go back into trance when I kiss your forehead. From now on you will wear sexy clothes under your blouse and long skirt. You will not have romantic intentions toward anyone but me. You will want me to fuck you whenever we’re alone. You will think about me whenever you have free time, and these thoughts will be erotic fantasies of submitting and being my slave. You will soon find that the thought of submitting to me, even becoming my slave, turns you on so much that you need to get off quick. And from now on you will always wear your hair down unless ABSOLUTELY necessary.” He waited for all this to sink in, then he snapped his fingers, and Tina snapped out of her trance. He told her about where he’d gotten the necklace, how much it cost, et cetera. Tina didn’t seem to be listening to his detailed explanation. She was breathing hard, her face was flushed, and he could smell the perfume of her arousal. Suddenly she jumped on him, kissing him passionately. It was working.

Story 4: “Mark Me”

I recently discovered something very interesting. It’s a special, mystical ink that has the power to change people and things. I discovered it quite by accident, actually. I had run out of ink, and because of the anti-Japanese groups that had been filling the streets in town, I couldn’t go there to buy more—at least until they left. My solution? I made my own. First, I took some ashes from a tree that had just been struck by lightning. After that, I took charcoal from the fireplace. The third thing I used was ground-up leaves from one of the trees outside (not the one that was struck by lightning). What I got was a powdery substance, but I needed to make it liquid so I could write with it. Water-based inks don’t stay long, in my experience. I found my answer in the form of a bubbling spring of...something. It was unlike anything I had seen before. It wasn’t hot, nor was there any kind of metallic tang in the air around it. It was a silvery liquid that tingled when I touched it. I mixed some in my powder, and I had ink! My sister, Sakura, wanted to know the Kanji for Dragon, so I made the character on a piece of paper. Right before our eyes, the paper folded itself into a paper dragon, and it flew away. My neighbor’s daughter, Aya, noticed this too. Curious, I marked myself with the Kanji for Strength, and right before our eyes, my muscles swelled to professional wrestler proportions. The new strength took some getting used to. The Kanji had disappeared into me after my new strength appeared, so I wasn’t running around with a strange mark on my arm. Quickly I saw the power of the ink. I took it in to my sick grandmother, and marked her with the Kanji for Health. Her illness faded, color returned to her cheeks, her eyes lost the white color of blindness and returned to their full vibrant life. She shed ten years in an instant. Her hair, while still white, wasn’t as stringy and limp as it had been before.

“What did you do?” asked my father.

“Father, I have discovered a wondrous ink that can change things according to the marks you make with it!” I told him. As I said this, Grandmother got up out of bed and began to walk around.

“We must not misuse this ink, my son.” Father said. “To make the mark of youth, for example, on an old man could trap him forever in the body of a baby.”

“I understand, Father.” I told him. Later that evening, Aya’s father told us that he was going to the state capitol to ask for aid in combating the anti-Japanese groups in the streets of the nearby town. My father volunteered to go as well, as did our whole family—including myself. Our neighbor, however, did not wish to take Aya because she was so beautiful that someone might try to take advantage of her. I was enlisted to stay behind with her. They had left by the next morning, and would be gone a week. The night after, as Aya was asleep in my sister’s bed, I brought the ink into the room. She was even more beautiful asleep, especially with the moonlight shining on her face. I made the Kanji for Obedience on her forehead, and it disappeared.

“Aya?” I asked.

“Hmm?” she asked.

“Get up.” I told her. She was instantly on her feet. She was still sleepy, however, but she realized that she was on her feet, and wanted to know what was going on. Whenever she panicked, she always switched back to Japanese.

“Speak only in English unless I tell you otherwise.” I told her.

“What have you done?” she demanded.

“I drew the Kanji for Obedience on your head, to see what would happen. Now it seems you cannot disobey me.”

“Undo it!” she demanded.

“I can’t.” I told her. “The Kanji is in you now.”

“How dare you...” she began.

“Don’t raise your voice to me, Aya.” I said. Her tone was instantly quieter. “Aya, I want you to love me...” I began, and her facial expression changed to that of deep affection. “...I want you to be my best friend as well, but most of all, I want you to be happy.” A big smile crossed her face.

“I am happy that you have made me obedient, Homare.” she said—did I tell you my name was Homare? Sorry about that.

“I’m glad you’re happy, my dear.” I told her. “Now, Aya, I would like for you to take off the gown.” She pulled it off, and stood there before me naked. “Now, lie down in the bed.” She obeyed. I took off my clothes and went in with her. I parted her legs, and she cooed in anticipation. Into her hot private place my penis went, and it felt wonderful, even though I had to break her maidenhead that first time, and she cried out. Once the pain had subsided, I set up a slow but steady rhythm, and she began to moan with pleasure. My newfound strength made it even more enjoyable for her, because of the hard thrusting I was able to give her. She had several orgasms before I had mine—women are so lucky. We lay spent in the bed for the rest of the night, through the morning and into the afternoon. Each night I had Aya a different way. Two nights before our families were to return, I had a frightening thought—what if I had gotten Aya pregnant? Her father would destroy the baby—and probably her as well, and I would be disowned. Being on my own didn’t frighten me. But Aya was someone I had come to love. I would not let her be hurt. I told this to her, and we thought for a bit. Finally, we hit upon a solution: we would leave, make it look as though we were kidnapped, and make our own way. We packed up what we would need, then trashed the place, even going so far as to smear a little blood on the walls. Then we left the house, taking with us all the money that had been in the house (to make it convincing) and by the time our families had made it back, we were in Las Vegas, Nevada. I work now as a fighter, and with the money I win (I am undefeated even now, three years later), I support myself and the twelve slaves I have accumulated.