The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Anna glanced around nervously as she surveyed the room where she sat. She was alone, as requested, though there were people outside, and she had at her side a button that, once pushed, would have security in here within seconds, as well as a handgun holstered on her hip. Finally was the tape, which was being monitored at all times by trained professionals. It was all the security she had demanded for the interview, and to her surprise, it had been agreed to. The place was as safe as she could make it... and she was still terrified.

The phone call had come three days earlier to her publication, the Daily Caller. A man answering only to the name of Daedalus, wishing to speak to her in order to give her a story about the world of mind controllers. As a reporter, she had been amazed... ever since the Psi-Corps had been founded, the public knowledge of Mind Controllers had driven those who practiced the craft into hiding. There had been many harems saved, but none of the perpetrators told their stories. When they were captured, they were put to death shortly afterwards as a part of their victims rehabilitation.

This had, obviously, made those who remained uncaught go deeper underground. Until now, when Daedalus, claiming to be one of those who only employed mind control by consent, but knew those who did not, wished to speak to her, telling her the story from the perspective of someone inside. He would only meet with her, and only at this one location, though she was permitted to make as many other safety precautions as she wished. She had done so, expecting him to decline. He’d agreed, without hesitation.

Her earwig reported that a car was approaching, a lone man getting out, and then the door opened. Daedalus walked through, giving a very respectful bow, and stood still as security personnel ran a scan. “No tech on him, ma’am. Not even a watch.” Anna took a deep breath, and then gestured to a chair, and the man stepped forward.

She found herself fascinated by his appearance, so nondescript. The way he walked, he seemed to just fade into and out of places, like if she hadn’t been so on her guard, she might not have noticed him. It was hard to keep her fear, she found, and after awhile she began to doubt that he was really who he said he was. Finally, some water poured and small talk made, she turned on her tape recorder, and he started talking.

You have to understand, I am a bit uncomfortable doing this. People in the life tend to avoid this sort of thing, or at least so I am led to believe. In all honesty, I don’t talk to others very much, except to learn new techniques, and even then I try not to draw their attention more than is absolutely necessary. I joined for very specific reasons, and some of them, well, they might try to take advantage. So I have to be careful.

Okay, I agreed to do this, and I will. Just don’t expect the makings of an expose. I’m not going to give you any real names, just stage names. And I’ll fudge some of the details. I am giving you a story, not the keys to the kingdom. Believe me when I tell you that you don’t want to push any deeper than what I show you. You will be tolerated because you will inevitably glamorize what they... what I... do, and they like that. The way the Mob loved the Godfather novels and movies, you understand? You’ll make it seem romantic. Push too much deeper, become more trouble than you’re worth, and they can do a lot worse than put you in a pair of concrete boots, got me?

Sorry, I don’t mean to threaten you, just... be careful. When someone has the power to bend your mind to make it theirs, there isn’t much in the way of protecting yourself that is really possible.

Okay. I became a Master to help my girlfriend.

Sounds like total BS, I know, but it is the absolute truth. I never wanted to control minds, to break people, to see just how easy it is to take a human mind and reduce it to jelly. It didn’t even occur to me as something someone might EVER want. I was brought up by good, moral parents, lived most of my young life by their code. And it’s a GOOD code, you hear me? So many people are happy in it, I have no desire to knock it. Sometimes, on the bad nights when I am trying to help one of the poor zombies left by the less careful masters, I kind of long for that code.

Anyway, that life, that code, served me well enough, until I started dating Roxy.

Roxy was amazing. Beautiful eyes, I remember that is what I first noticed about her, and given her body, that is fucking saying something. Those eyes, so big, that deep brown color, that understanding gaze... ahhh, she had me the first time she held eye contact. It was like she was making love to me, right there in public, even though all she was doing was asking directions to the nearest coffee shop. I walked her there, bought her coffee, and talked to her for hours. It was a dream come true, for me.

She was the sort of girl you dream of meeting. Fantastic curves, amazing chest and a beautiful ass. Long, curly red hair, with an attitude to match. Her voice was soft and sensuous, and she cared, she really cared. You told her your stories and you knew she was listening to you, and her responses made you feel safe even if she was offering critique. Smart, sexy, funny... you name it, Roxy was a dream come true. On our first date I felt on top of the world, and the first time we made love I felt like I had discovered the answer to... well, everything. Afterwords, as I held her in my arms and heard her tell me that she loved me, I figured life could never get any better. I don’t think I was far wrong, either.

You see, before long, there was a problem. At first, I thought it was her drinking. Drinking was Roxy’s vice of choice. Every night she had at least a glass of wine, and sometimes more. Lord, did she love a good gin and tonic, and if I wasn’t paying attention, she rarely limited herself to just one. Then she’d be drunk, and overwhelmed with these feelings of guilt and loss that made no sense to me. It was as if, once inebriated, something she’d buried unburied itself long enough to ruin her night, to make her feel small, sad, and lost no matter what I did to try to cheer her up. I never knew what to do about it, and it worried me.

Naturally, I assumed that her problem was simple alcoholism, and I encouraged her to go to meetings. That was our first fight, actually, and the sex afterwards meant I would never forget it. She got so angry, accusing me of ordering her around, of trying to control her life, and then, next thing I know, she is apologizing, and practically knocks me over in her hurry to get my clothes off.

Looking back, it should have been clear... but I wasn’t to know. I thought I was dealing with an alcoholic. It wasn’t until a month or so later that I found... the real problem.

It had never bothered me that Roxy wasn’t a virgin when I met her, but she seemed concerned by the fact that she’d had so many more sexual experiences than I had. At first, I assumed this was because with me being so much less experienced, that I wouldn’t be as skilled as she was used to. She insisted that wasn’t it, but it also triggered a guilt reaction in her I simply couldn’t understand. I’d spend whole nights holding her, whispering to her, telling it was all going to be alright. And it would help, all the way up to the next time she’d be down, and we’d start all over again.

Then she had to leave town for a long while for a business trip, and asked me to keep an eye on her apartment. Water the plants, check the mail, the usual. I was happy to do so (in truth, I slept there so often it felt more like OUR apartment, anyway,) and so one day I was sitting around, watching movies on her tv, when I noticed a DVD underneath the entertainment center. Roxy owned piles of the things, and I assumed that I had accidentally knocked it there when looking for a specific movie, but when I tried to put it back I noticed it was unlabeled, so I put it in, and received a major shock. It was porn.

Now porn normally wouldn’t shock me... I had been a young man with access to the internet for years, after all. This wasn’t even very good porn, at least by production standards. It started out just as some asshole with a camera ordering around a couple of naked girls who posed rather cheesily and called him “Master.” Some dumb sub/dom crap, I figured, and I was about to decide that Roxy just had poor taste in the stuff when I saw her.

There she was, my Roxy, a few years younger, gorgeous, naked, and chained to the wall, begging to be released. It wasn’t an act, because those eyes... she was plainly terrified, and if she had been that good an actress, she belonged on a stage somewhere. Certainly not on this cheap porn tape. She begged and begged as the other girls undulated around her, touching her, kissing her, even biting her, but she never looked at them, never stopped pleading with whoever was behind the camera, begging him to just let her go.

Then some kind of light flicked on, in her face, and she tried to close her eyes and turn her head away, but slowly they flickered open again, and she turned to face it full. I could see the muscles in her face go slack, see her eyes glaze over, heard her voice lose its fear and take on a robotic monotone. The other girls then unlocked her chains, and she nearly collapsed to the floor before being ordered to stand, and join them. Her movements were jerky, robotic, not at all appealing to me, but she did as she was told, servicing the girls at the commands of that asshole, and then finally returning to the wall, where she was again chained. The light shut off, her eyes slowly cleared, and soon she was sobbing, still begging to be freed. The camera cut off, and then came on again in a new scene, repeating the process from before.

This went on for hours. It was a diary of sorts, a process that occurred over the course of days or even weeks, and I slowly came to realize that what I was seeing. I was watching my girlfriend be mentally dominated over and over again, with her inductions becoming quicker, her reactions while under the influence of whatever that light was smoother, until she was just another one of the slaves, the last clip showing her dancing for “Master,” while he ordered her to tease another sobbing girl in chains.

When it ended, a phrase appeared on the screen, then all went black. I took out the disc and looked at it, not knowing what to do. My love, my beautiful Roxy, had been a slave once. I’d heard of it, of course, ever since the Psi-Corp started its Inquisition, revealing that Mind Control is very real, and its practitioners, some of them very unethical, out there. But I never thought I would meet a recovered slave. I could only assume, of course, that she was recovered.

I watched the DVD over and over again while she was gone, searching for some sign that it was staged, or some sick joke, a phase of hers that had passed. But each viewing only seemed to confirm that it was real, that this had happened to her. And far from being a recovered slave, she had kept the video of her own breaking, kept it near at hand. How recovered could she be, honestly?

When she returned I confronted her, and she confessed. She had met her former master, whose name she seemed afraid to say aloud, at a club. A drugged drink later and he had her in his dungeon, slowly breaking her into another of his slaves, and for a year she’d stayed that way, before being rescued by the Psi-Corps, rehabilitated, and sent back to her grateful parents for reintroduction into society. Another year later, when she met me, she hoped I would be her key to the normal life she had been aspiring to ever since she’d been freed from his influence.

I was confused, angry, and jealous. Why would she keep the DVD of her breaking, then? Was she secretly hoping he would return some day to take her back? She swore that she loved me, cared for me, wanted to be with me. But she kept the DVD that had been confiscated from his library when she’d been freed, and watched it sometimes. She remembered being broken, then and on those nights when she lost control, either by being drunk or by arguing with me, would be struck by the pleasure she had been conditioned to feel at that loss, and then guilt at the pleasure. She cried in my arms for a long time that night, and I didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t like she was cheating on me. I’d asked her point blank if she was, and she denied it so strongly that I believed her. Her mind and will had been broken, and leaving her now would be like leaving a girl I loved after learning she’d once been raped. It wasn’t her fault, she had only been a loving girlfriend to me.

That morning, I told her so, and we made love. It was the best yet, as she reacted to my every touch. I went down on her and she was nearly gushing as I tasted her, back arching as her fingers tore her sheets to ribbons. When I entered her, she called out my name so loudly her neighbors must have heard it, and as we both climaxed, she settled into my arms, exhausted and happy.

So was I, for a few minutes. But I couldn’t just forget the DVD, couldn’t forget that the girl who had professed her love to me with her voice and body had once belonged to someone else so completely. She was giving herself to me as much as she knew how, but I knew that no matter how deeply in love we were, even if I were to marry her and make her my wife, she would never be mine so much as she had been his. A deep anger burned in me at that, not at her, but at him, but I kept quiet, held her close, and closed my eyes until it was time to go to work.

I had things to do.

After a bit of investigative work I discovered the name of the monster who had broken her, and found that, per the mind control laws that had been passed, he had been put to death shortly after being discovered, so as to aid the recovery of his victims. So there was no revenge to be had there. The other girls had been rehabilitated as well and that was a relief. Did they struggle with what had happened to them so much as Roxy did? No way to tell.

My search continued, and I started to learn things. Mind Control, once revealed to the public, had slowly been taking its place in the BDSM world, with people agreeing to be placed under the command of others for periods. Some even saw it as a vacation. There were elaborate measures taken, conditioning given that assured that the personality of the slave could always be recovered with the utterance of a safe word, no matter how extensive the brainwashing he or she had been subjected to. It was said to be safe, sexy, and completely consensual.

I wanted to know more, and so I went to a club downtown one night when Roxy was gone on business again, which is where I met Enigma.

Enigma was one of the earliest pioneers in modern mind control, and smart enough to get out of the game when it was clear that the new laws were going to be passed. He’d freed his slaves, helped rehabilitate them, had even written some of the basic protocols used by the Psi-Corps. Like the hackers of the previous century, he showed that he was worth more to the authorities as an ally then as a prisoner, and so he had stayed free. He’d publicized his knowledge, and soon enough had volunteers to undergo his conditioning. After working out the system where they could protect their core identities, he went into business, and had grown quite rich in the time since.

He didn’t look like much. A smaller man, balding, in his late forties, he seemed exactly the sort you could pass by on the street a thousand times without noticing, which he said he’d cultivated. Such an appearance set people at ease, lowered their defenses, and made his work easier. He met me at his club, a veritable harem of slavegirls undulating around him, fawning over him, though he barely noticed them.

“So,” he’d said to me, after putting down a glass of cheap wine, “You are interested in the life? I don’t often do men, you realize, not unless there is something particularly... interesting... about the specimen.”

I shook my head quickly, and explained that I wasn’t looking to be made a slave. What I wanted was to understand the masters, understand what would lead one person to so completely dominate someone else.

He’d smiled, knowingly. “Ah... I see. What is her name?”

“Excuse me?”

“This girl you wish to dominate. What is her name?”

I was shocked. “No, no, I don’t want to dominate her. Someone already did, they raped her mind, and I am...”

“You are jealous,” Enigma said in a tone that brooked no argument. “This woman you care for has belonged to someone else in a way that she cannot belong to you, and this is unacceptable. So you will take her for yourself, for her own good and for yours. After all, the one who took her was a monster. You would be a much more benevolent master for her, would you not? Perhaps, by taking her, you could even remove her memory of him, so she would no longer have to remember that awful experience. Yes?”

I very nearly left on the spot, but I couldn’t. I did want that, had wanted it from the moment I’d seen the DVD the first time. Roxy was mine, not his, and I burned with the desire to prove it. She wanted it, as well. It wasn’t going to be a rape, it was going to be... freeing.

“Her name?” Enigma asked again, and this time I hung my head.

“Roxy.”

He watched me for a long time. “I think...” he said, after finishing his merlot, “That I can help you with this.” And so I began my training.

“Would you mind if I took a break to use the bathroom?”

Anna tensed. “You will need to be scanned for items again, afterwards.”

Daedalus nodded with a smile. “And you are right to insist. I will do so.” Still he waited, patiently, until she nodded, and he stood to go to the bathroom.

It was all so STRANGE, she thought. She, like most people, had only ever imagined mind controllers, these so-called Masters, as juvenile boys learning parlor tricks to turn sorority girls into mindless sluts. Sure, the victims were much more arrayed across the demographics than that, but that was the image. Daedalus was different, calm, more poised. She did not doubt, even for a moment, that he was what he claimed to be. Something in the way that he looked at her, as if he could own her in a moment if he only put his mind to it, but had chosen not to. It unsettled her, and she called for a report of her security... all reported clear, and the specialist on the line assured her that no tricks were being used in the story itself.

“Indeed,” the woman said, sounding curious, “he seems to be doing the opposite, his speech patterns and tones designed to keep you OUT of a trance state. For now, he seems to want your attention, not your mind. Be careful, though. Someone with that kind of tonal control is dangerous.”

Anna looked up to see Daedalus in the scanner, again cleared, and walking forward. “So,” she asked, trying to show more confidence than she felt. “How does one train to be a... ah... Master?”

Daedalus smiled, and gestured to her recorder. Once she had started it again, he opened his mouth.

The training differs based on who is training you. I am reliably informed that there are some who insist on first enslaving their students, so that they can experience the life they subject others to. Others take a more academic approach, classrooms, textbooks, even written exams. Enigma preferred a method similar to apprenticeship. He took me under his wing, and I accompanied him around the club.

That first night he had a new customer, a stripper named Jenna. She’d had some friends and co-workers pass through Enigma’s club and, based on their telling of it, she was curious enough to give it a try. Enigma first started to train her subconscious. It was done tonally, massaging her mind into a trance state through careful suggestion, and then he had her pick her safe word, by which she, or anyone uttering it, could return her immediately to full awareness. It was paramount, he said, that I take this step, because without it, there was the potential to go too deep, for any changes I made to be permanent.

“Permanent changes are a no-no. Psi-Corps hears about permanent changes, the girl goes to rehab and you go to the chopping block. The safe word allows you to bring her out of it quickly, sharply, with time for her conscious mind to reject recent suggestions. It has saved the lives of many controllers.”

When I asked about those who did not want their slaves returned, he laughed. “Even then, safe words are advisable. Those without them can often harm their slaves by too much meddling, putting so much strain on a mind that it cracks. There’s nothing stopping you from reprogramming them again, after all, so why not play it safe? Anything else is bone laziness.”

Anyway, once the word was in place, he started guiding her down other paths. A few parlor tricks early, the sort of stuff you see at the more vaudeville shows, but he said they were important, it helped to know what level of control he had achieved. He had her strip, of course, as his patrons had expectations and seeing a woman like Jenna, a gorgeous brunette, buxom and fit, strip under orders could only help his business and reputation. She danced as she did so, and it was amazing, her breasts swaying to the sound of the music Engima had placed in her mind, but he seemed almost bored with it… getting a stripper to strip was, after all, no great accomplishment.

Getting a woman so trained to sexiness to run around while flapping her arms and clucking like a chicken, however, showed that he had a remarkable hold.So he instructed her to do just that and, sure enough, she obeyed, with some patrons laughing, others merely following her gorgeous body with their eyes, and some staring at Enigma wide-eyed… future private customers for sure. Then he had her dress and brought her out of the trance slowly so as to be sure that his work wasn’t ruined. She awoke, disappointed. She’d assumed that nothing had happened, that the training had failed. He simply told her that these things took time, and sent her home. “She’ll be back,” he assured me, and called for a pair of his clients to dance for our pleasure while we talked.

I had a week before Roxy got home and I spent most of it learning from him. Listening to his voice, and learning how he used it to make people more susceptible to suggestion. It was as much about the tone as the words, emphasis placed perfectly so your speech became regular like a metronome, with commands uttered precisely in time with the beat you created within them. I watched as he used hand motions to distract the mind so it could be redirected as he saw fit, not even registering the suggestions he planted. I learned how he phrased his commands first to fit into the desires of his slaves, commanding them to do what they already wanted to do, and then twisted the commands to twist those desires, until obedience itself became the greatest desire of his subjects On the last day, I was fairly certain that I would be able replicate the process myself. And this was put to the test.

Jenna had come back, confused. She said she had tried to remember the session over and over again and couldn’t and so assumed that something had happened, but had been frustrated. Her friends had spoken of a life shaking experience... and she’d had nothing like that. She’d left believing that it had been a bust, a waste of time.

But then she’d started remembering things. Vague thoughts, images. New customers appeared at the club where she worked and smiled at her as if they were regulars. And every night the dreams of dancing, playing, and utterly erotic obedience. She’d all but burst into the private room where Enigma and I were talking, apparently on the verge of tears.

“I don’t know what went wrong...” she burst out. “If I fell asleep or what, but... please try again? I’ll pay, I swear, I just really need...”

Enigma raised a hand to cut her off, then looked at me with a smile. “Well, Enigma, what do you think? Should we give the lovely miss Jenna another chance?”

I half expected Jenna to storm out of the room in anger, but instead she sat down in front of me, eyes open wide, mouth slightly open in anticipation. I was surprised at how badly she wanted to feel what her friends had told her about, until I remembered the commands Enigma had placed… her urgent curiosity was no accident. It was in that moment that I knew that I could dominate her without any real difficulty on my part… her mind, so eager, so desperate, would do the hard work for me.

I walked her into the trance simply… easily. Vocal tone and hand gestures lulled her through the various early stages of mesmerism, while her already obvious pleasure responses were used as conditioning, like a treat to one of Pavlov’s dogs. I didn’t even have to touch her, just to remind of her of all those men who came to see her dance naked, their hands kept away by the bouncers.

But what if they could touch her? What if there were no bouncers? What if it was just her, there, naked before all of them, theirs to touch, to feel, to enjoy? Dancing had once been part of a humiliation thing she had going, so it was easy enough to take her further along those lines. What a bitch, such a horny slut, on her knees and begging for all those dirty, sweaty, swarthy strangers to fuck her, to take her, to mark her.

“Stop…” Enigma said, suddenly. I’d almost forgotten he was there.

“What?”

“She’s deep now. You’ve bypassed her fears, sublimated her desires, and driven your way into the very heart of her subconscious. No silly watch, no mind-link or anything so pedestrian as that. Just your words and her mind. From here you could plant anything, a simple seed that could grow to define her. You could condition obedience… she’d follow you like yours was the word of God. And if she wished to escape this life she found herself in, escape it despite the pleasure it gave, it would be a simple matter to change her thinking, to give her pleasure with her clothes still on, to remove this need to be humiliated, now we know that is the heart of it.”

I turned and looked at her, and found to my surprise that she had started dancing, nude, right there in front of us. Enigma laughed. “Deep seated response. No commands from her higher functions, the body goes on autopilot, does what it knows. If she was a whore, rather than a stripper, she might have gone down on you without asking, first. Have you decided?”

“Decided what?”

“What to do with her.”

I could see the temptation. Jenna was beautiful. A few tweaks and I could have her believing nearly anything, even that she loved serving me. She would resist using her safe word so as not to lose the feeling, and just like that, my own beautiful buxom blond bedslave. She’d thank me for it. And mean it.

“Jenna?” I said, clearly and slowly.

“Yes, sir?” I glanced at Enigma who shrugged.

“Honorifics seem to seep in at this stage whether demanded or not. She knows she’ll do whatever you tell her. Stands to reason, in her head, anyway, that this equals respect.”

That made sense, I supposed. Her breasts swayed elegantly in front of me, begging to be sucked or fondled. I shook my head to clear it. “Ok, Jenna. I want you to go out to the main floor and dance. For the women, for the men. For free, for the pleasure of being seen. If you feel safe enough to be touched, let them touch. Then, after about a half hour, you will begin to wake up, remembering everything that has happened. If you are afraid, you may use the safeword, but if not, remember being just a toy in the club, and that you could be again, if you so desired.”

Jenna nodded vacantly, then walked out onto the floor to follow my instructions.

Enigma seemed pleased with my decision. “Next time she’ll know why she came, and she’ll come again. Very well done. And now, what will you do?,” he asked me, with a smile. “Go back to your Roxy, take her deep, free her from the life her Master thrust her into and claim her as your own?”

Jenna’s performance had me elated. I could do it, I knew. No matter what had happened to her, no matter what that asshole had done to her, I could get in, and then I would have her, the real Roxy, free and grateful and entirely uninhibited. But I hesitated.

I knew I wasn’t ready. A mistake could be horrible, catastrophic, a breach of trust far worse than drugging a stranger in a club. I needed to be sure, not only skilled in the arts, but practiced. I wouldn’t take chances, not until I was as good as I could possibly be. I expected Enigma to be disappointed at my hesitation. To the contrary, he was elated.

“That,” Enigma said when I told him, his smile broader than it had ever been, “was the right answer. You are going to go places.”

My meetings with Enigma were, at first, sporadic. Roxy’s work often took her out of town, but he wasn’t always available, and neither was I. He mentioned that I could come when she was in town, just make excuses, but I was adamant in not wanting to lie to her. Eventually, I would have to tell her what I was going to do, to get her permission to continue, but I wanted a better understanding of the process before I brought her into it again.

My skills had grown in leaps and bounds since that first session with Jenna and so he offered me one of his clients, a gorgeous brunette lawyer named Cherise. For the first time, he didn’t pretend that I was him, instead introducing me as an employee of the club, prompting me for a name. That was the first time I went by Daedelus.

She was nervous, and as I spoke with her, learning the tones that would best open her up to my suggestion, I learned why. She was extremely high powered in the world of law, but frustrated. She was slotted for partner with her firm soon, had defeated every opponent the courtroom had sent at her, but inside her somewhere was a desire to be dominated, a desire she could not pursue without endangering her career. And yet here it was, a way to explore her desire with an easy “off” switch she could use, in a realm where no one would expose her for fear of themselves being exposed. Her body was gorgeous, and she was dressed to please, eager for what was coming, expensive black lace revealing much while shaping, dark straps mimicking both the look and the feel of bonds, all the way to the tight fitted satin choker… a collar for a career minded woman. She was ready, nearly desperate. Without my asking she knelt before me, ready, waiting.

So I discussed her career with her, asking after various cases that she had worked on which I had heard of. As we discussed it I would occasionally place commands into my sentences and watched as she obeyed, not always even aware that she was doing it. Small acts of encouragement reinforced such behavior, a stroke of her hair, an affirming word, an approving nod, all were readily accepted and ultimately sought after. She was eager: eager to please, eager to obey, and each time she obeyed she fell more and more deeply into the role. My suggestion that she would be more comfortable with her arms behind her back as if bound was taken without question, and before too very long I had her naked before me, aching, wanting to be used, begging to be used.

Instead, I awoke her. Her memory was intact, and she marveled… her trance had developed so slowly, so organically, that she couldn’t point to any single moment that marked the distinction between awake and asleep. Her eyes flickered over me as she enthused over my performance, and then widened in shock when I dismissed her.

“But…” she started, breasts heaving, pussing dripping. “Aren’t we going to…”

“You can fuck whoever you like,” I snapped. “But you will OBEY me.”

“Yes, Master…” she said in a hurry, then her eyes went wide again as a hand went to her mouth. She wasn’t entranced, but she’d meant the word. I stood up and walked over to her, taking her chin in my hand, raising her head so our eyes met.

“I will see you again. Now go.”

Anna found herself glad she was recording the interview, because she’d barely managed to take any notes.

“Did you continue seeing this… Cherise?”

Daedelus studied her for a moment. Again, she felt almost as though she could feel his eyes on her skin, even though she was fully clothed.

“Seeing implies a relationship beyond business. Cherise came to the club regularly, and when I happened to be there as well her training would continue.”

Anna thought about that. “What about when you weren’t there… or when you were learning from Enigma?”

He smiled. “Many in the club simply participated in roleplay. We even had special collars they wore that marked that their obedience was of full consciousness, with no interest in actual mind control. With them, it was just a game, and a fun one… Cherise came nearly every night. But she wanted the real thing. And every night I was available, she got it.”

His face looked fond, as he remembered his subject. “She had a whole mess of triggers, for any of a dozen emotional states I wanted to employ. Horny, affectionate, brave, cowardly. My fingers never touched her skin but that hardly mattered to her… other club regulars were more than willing to serve those roles, and giving her pleasure by ordering someone else to give it to her helped cement my power in her mind. Jenna, who’d learned I wasn’t Enigma by that point, was especially more than happy to lend fingers, tongue or lips to reward Cherise’s conditioning. I was there to practice my craft, she to be subjected to it, and after that first session sex between us was never discussed… until the very end.”

Not every club has a graduation ceremony. Some see it as old fashioned, others worry that such pageantry will just call the hounds down on us all, but Enigma thought it was important. After all, our clients worked so hard towards this goal, why not ritualize it? He’d taught me that ritual could seal lessons even without external manipulation, and we used all we could. Graduates went through it fully entranced, and their guests, other club members walking a similar path, at least half so.

And so there she was, kneeling before me, vowing her obedience, showing herself to be a plaything of the club’s masters. It was everything she had ever wanted. At my command her mind could blank, or take on a new persona, or even experience a life-changing orgasm at a single command. Utter surrender, absolute submission. She had achieved it.

Her work was better than ever. She’d nailed her last court case so hard the guy wouldn’t be eligible for parole for fifteen years at least. She’d done it wearing her satin choker, by my command, and with remote controlled vibrators in her pussy and ass. She’d never wavered. Orgasms were rewards for me to grant, pleasure derived from obedience. When the guilty verdict was handed down, she’d barely been able to wiggle her way to the bathroom before feeling every inch of it, just as I had instructed.

“I’m ready,” she’d said afterwards. “Ready for it to be real.”

“Real?” I’d responded, cautious. “How could it be more so?”

“Let me be yours…” she begged. “Not a club pet, but your property. Not just on homework assignments. Not just until… until today. Take me home. Or come to my home. It’s yours, everything mine is yours, I’ll write out the legal documents myself. I’ll make you money by day and be your slave by night, or quit my job and let you take me anywhere just please… please keep me.”

She was begging me, eyes filling with tears. Enigma raised an eyebrow, and before I could speak, uttered one of her triggers, watching as her mind blanked.

He barely glanced at her amazing figure as he walked up to me… he rarely did. “Control,” he’d told me once, “became sexier than flesh a long time ago.”

“I went too far,” I said slowly. “She can come here for release, but she wanted safe domination in the club, not slavery. I took her too far. I need to be better.”

“You are certain?” he asked me as I stepped forward to begin the process. “Roxy would never know, and besides, you are doing this for her benefit, are you not? Surely, with a tweak here or there, your precious one won’t mind a high powered lawyer serving you both in her sexy little maid outfit.” The masquerade fetish maid outfit had been Cherise’s favorite innovation.

“I would know,” I responded, curtly. “And there is a limit to what I will allow myself to do in pursuit.” I did what was needed, and when Cherise awoke, she happily paid her members dues and went back into the world as a free woman with a secret, rather than a slave. I’d been tempted to kiss her cheek before waking her, but didn’t trust myself that far. She really had been that beautiful. But I remained true to my girl.

The next day Roxy got home, and we made love again, and I found myself using my skills in bed, enhancing her enjoyment. I wanted to do more, to start the reclamation, to have her awaken finally freed from the leash of a monster. But Roxy had no safe word from before what her tormentor had done to her, and I wasn’t certain I could do what needed to be done without harming her further. As she screamed my name, tearing at my flesh with her nails as I came into her, I knew she deserved better... and that I would give that to her.

With every lesson, I got better. Enigma was one of the best at what he did, a feat attained by simple survival, by restraining his tastes, remaining in control at all times, and with the benefit of his experience I advanced quickly. I was fascinated to learn that many people started out the way I did, telling themselves, with some reason or another, that they weren’t in the life to become like the people who were being executed. But they couldn’t control themselves... the power that gave them the ability to reach into the minds of those around them left them unable to deny themselves anything.

Months passed, a year. With each time I restrained myself, refusing to push the subs at Enigmas club beyond their bounds or be untrue to Roxy, the happier he got with me, the more willing he was to show me his secrets, to teach his ways. I’d long stopped pretending to be him at the club because whenever I arrived I had a queue of my own, those who knew what I could do and wanted my flavor of control, instead of his. He paid me for what I did, after taking a small cut himself, and I was soon making more money at the club than I could ever have hoped for in my day job.

It was a good thing, too, because my work was suffering. I was exhausted nearly every day, and had almost used up all of my paid time off recovering from long nights either at Enigma’s club, or at Roxys when she was back. She sensed it as well, I think, but didn’t push it. Whatever my problem was, she sensed that it hadn’t affected my love for her, and given all the baggage she had, she decided to leave mine alone, for now.

That doesn’t make it right, though. I should have told her why I was making more money all of sudden, even after I left my job. I never lied, but only because she never asked. If she had... I don’t know what I would have done. I’d like to think I’d have told her the truth earlier. I’d really like to think that.

He waited patiently while Anna furiously scribbled notes, then looked up at him in wonder. She hated to admit it, but she could see the appeal, having played around with some light bondage back in the day. The bindings had been hot… the idea of them existing only in her mind even hotter. Half of the reason for the notes was waiting for the warmth in her cheeks to abate.

“It’s no shame to find it… alluring. Most people do, either from one side or another.”

“I’ve noticed,” Anna said, trying to ignore the dampness between her legs, “That you always refer to Roxy in the past tense. Did you ever decide you were ready to attempt to free her from her old master?”

Daedelus looked at her for a long time. “Yes. Yes, I did. It took more than a year, but one day I realized I knew nearly everything Enigma was willing to teach. If I wasn’t capable then, I would never be. Besides, as my own star rose in the clubs, it was only a matter of time before she would find out on her own. She always had such an inquisitive mind. I had to be the one to tell her, before she found out on her own.”

His voice was fond, and sad. Anna leaned forward. “She was out of town so often… what did she do, what was her job?”

A small smile appeared on his face. “Actually, she was a…”

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!?”

The door crashed open, and in stormed a middle aged man, someone diminutive in stature, the sort of guy you passed on the street a thousand times every day. His looks average, his clothes, drab, nothing at all to grab attention, excepting, of course the shouting.

“Mr. Wight?” Anna asked, nervously. “I’m in the middle of…”

“A great big act of insubordination, I can see, Miss Carver. You were specifically instructed that under no conditions whatsoever were you to pursue this particular story. I won’t have one of our publications top reporters turned into a little bimbo cock puppet for a…”

“...a mind controlling monster?” The voice was soft, but firm, cutting off Mr. Wight firmly. Anna spun to see Daedelus rising, his anger visible. The whole time he’d told his story, his affect had stayed somewhat neutral, his tones clear and concise but never particularly emotional, save for the occasional bit of sadness when discussing his love. But now, the anger was clear. “Hello, Enigma.”

The two men stared at each other across the room, and Anna’s red hair whipped around as her eyes went from one to the other.

Daedelus’ calm had returned. “One day Roxy never came back. She wrote an email telling me that it was over, that I’d betrayed her trust and she would never be with me again. She asked me to send her things via post without comment. I was so ashamed of myself that I obeyed, and fell into my work, hating every moment of it. Every client was a reminder of what I had lost. I had entered the life to help her, and instead I had lost her. I only did it because I was no longer fit to do anything else. So imagine my surprise when I saw her one day, the bright new reporter of the Daily Caller, with a new name, a new past, and a new Boss… a man I’d never have imagined we’d have in common.”

“Mr. Wight?” Anna asked, timidly. “What is he talking about?”

“You can’t blame me,” Mr. Wight chuckled, ignoring Anna to speak to Daedalus. “I gave you every opportunity to make her your own, the way you’d always wanted. All that control, all that conscience, all that MORALITY, and for fucking what? To let her slip through your fingers without even trying to hold on? We are meant to be WOLVES, Daedalus, and here you let one of the sheep get away just because it asked nicely. That email was a test. A final exam to see if you would at last wield the power that I grew inside you and instead you just meekly paid for her to move away from you. You failed. All of your power, all of your know-how is just playacting, fit for the clubs and nothing else. This one…” he gestured to Anna… “could have been your graduation present. Instead, she’ll be gone forever.”

“I’m standing RIGHT HERE…” Anna yelled, trying to assert herself. “What are you to talking about? Tell me, right now!”

“Roxy was never real,” Daedelus responded, sadness deep in his voice. “She was a fiction, a construct. He’d made a deal with the Psy-corps to save his life. They needed his expertise, but they also needed to show success stories. So instead of curing you, showing you his death and helping you regain control of your life, they let him build her inside of you. By all accounts a perfectly functional, cured human being. If some cracks showed, well, you were an early case. They had what they wanted, and so did he… access to you whenever he liked, a whole slew of triggers, including one meant to guide anyone interested in the life straight to him.”

Enigma just laughed and shook his head. “None of this matters at all. Well done, you’ve told her the truth. She will forget it all in a minute, and by tomorrow she’ll have a lovely story of a new Mind Controller taken by the Psycorps for trying to enslave her, how she was saved by her brave editor, and watched the poor idiot who tried to snare such a public figure put to death, in accordance with the laws. Goodbye, Daedelus. You should have stayed in the club, taken Jenna or Cherise. Or both. Anna, Segmentus Override Omega.”

Anna’s eyes went wide. She felt as if wool was being stretched over her eyes, over her brain, and her breaths started becoming deeper, more regular. It would be so easy to just sleep while standing, to go where she was told, do what she was told, be who she was told to be. So easy… so easy…

“No…” she whispered, and her head started to clear.

Enigma’s eyes went wide, full of surprise for the first time she’d ever seen. “What the hell…?” His eyes looked past her to Daedelus, who smiled grimly.

“All that work on lowering resistance, old friend. Did you never think that we could do the opposite? And now she KNOWS.”

“Impossible,” Enigma growled, his face twitching. “No one can resist me. Segmentus Override Omega, Anna. OBEY!”

Anna grabbed her head with both hands… it felt like it was being ripped apart and crushed at the same time. “Help!” she cried out. “Security, please!”

“Did you honestly think I’d let anyone near you without triggers after him? Your entire detail was sleeping the moment I entered the building, now join them and obey!”

“You don’t have to… Anna…” Daedelus’ voice was quiet, but urgent. “You’re stronger than he ever let you know, than you ever gave yourself credit for. You fought him for hours when others succumbed in moments. You were never the perfect puppet, which is why he couldn’t keep you close. You could be free. You just never got to take the first step of recovery, the lynchpin of all of it, the thing that will let you choose who you will be. And now you can do it yourself!”

“I COMMAND YOU TO OBEY!” Enigma’s face was contorted with animalistic fury, all traces of humanity absent from his demands, only to cut off as if with a knife when Anna pulled the sidearm she’d brought with her, aiming it at him. “What… what are you doing? Anna, listen to me, it’s a trick. He’s a mind controller, he’s tricked you, it’s me, Mr. Wight, just…”

“You raped my mind,” she said, softly. As she said it, she KNEW it was true. The cobwebs cleared further. “The Psycorps let you keep me. Like a pet. You wanted to make me his trophy, his reward for becoming like you, becoming a Master.”

“No!” Enigma cried, looking to Daedelus. “Old friend, you can’t mean this. Bring her down. We’ll go to the Psycorps, let them decide…”

“They have a great deal to answer for as well…” Daedelus said grimly. “But better if she does it herself.”

Anna’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know who I am. But I am ready to start finding out.”

The shot echoed through the large room, and Enigma collapsed to the ground, dead.

It was a few weeks later as Daedelus finally walked out of the doors of the Psycorps treatment center as a free man, despite some grumbling from the higher ups. Waiting for him, leaning against a car door, was a woman, beautiful, curvy, flowing red hair tied back. He smiled, and she smiled back.

“Anna?” he asked, honestly a question. She shook her head.

“Anna Carver was as much a fiction as Roxy McCallister. Psycorps has no records of my existence, probably a good move on their part, though the founders are in a spot of trouble for it. There are other ways of finding out if I have any family or friends from my original life who know me, but they’ll take time.” She sighed. “Jane Doe 1022, at your service.”

“Well, for a three week old, Jane Doe 1022 will have quite a journalism career ahead of her.” He held up the paper showing her expose on Enigma and the Psycorps.

She nodded. “Might have to keep it, at least as a stage name. What will you do? Take over the clubs? Enigma owned them wholesale, but it probably wouldn’t be hard to transfer them to you.”

He shook his head. “They’re all ghost towns, now, save for a couple of friends who sought me out. The other clubs will be fine. Let his places be something useful, like a parking lot. What I have now is a skill set I can’t use that I developed for a woman who doesn’t exist. What’s a mind controller to do?”

She put a hand on his arm. “I asked a few times. My psychiatrist and I went as deep as we dared… I can’t remember Roxy at all. She’s gone, and her memories with you. I’m sorry. She was a lucky girl to meet you.” A pause. “I… was so lucky to meet you.”

He smiled. “Not nearly as lucky as I was to meet you. But thank you.” Then a hesitation, and he started to walk away. She considered calling after him, then thought better of it and drove back to her halfway house. She had a lot of digging to do.

The house was large, ominous, and badly dilapidated. The For Sale sign was half fallen over, as if the real estate agent had been so excited to get rid of it that he’d just thrown the “SOLD” sign at it and run away. The car pulled up and the driver and two passengers got out, looking at it expectantly.

“The papers are all finalized, sir,” Cherise said, glancing at her phone. “It’s all ours. Such as it is.”

“Oh, don’t be such a grump,” Jenna said with a laugh. “A bit of work, and it will be a playhouse like the world has never seen, a safe place to enjoy, all off the grid. Perfect.” She grabbed the driver’s arm, and cuddled in close. “So what’s next, Master? Shall we break it in?”

He chuckled, and held his arm out so that Cherise could cuddle in as well. “I’m sure we will. We’ll get it fixed up, ready to go.”

Cherise took another dubious look at the house, then cuddled under the offered arm, feeling the warm buzz of pleasure throughout her body that came whenever she was in such close proximity to him. “Yes, Master,” she sighed, contentedly, so grateful he’d finally accepted the title. “And after we… you know…” he glanced at her, curious. “What then?”

“And then…” Daedelus replied, “We start looking for students…”