The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I felt like I was going to go out of my mind. It had been building slowly for months, maybe even years, and had been pressing in on me relentlessly over the last week or so. I found myself wandering aimlessly through the streets of the city unable to think clearly, rationally.

The grey of the sky, the slightly cold slightly muggy air and the self conscious movements of the people around me just reinforced this feeling of drowning, of being crushed by my own repression. I felt like I was in chains—like I had no freedom to behave as I felt, to say what I thought, to step outside of the stifling bonds of social pressure to conform. And I had been having the most disturbing thoughts. Thoughts I didn’t want to admit I was having. Thoughts that made me feel depraved, self-loathing, misogynistic. Thoughts that made my stomach flutter and my crotch cry out.

I sat down on a stone bench in a little piazza and felt the cold seep in through my tights. It was ridiculous that I should have dressed as I did today with the winter decidedly here. I had tried to rationalise my short wool skirt by telling myself that a pair of tights and leather knee boots were appropriate winter attire, that the clingy ribbed sweater would trap the warmth because it was a blend of wool and silk. But, the truth, and I knew it at the time, was that I was in a mood. I wanted to feel the lingering looks of strangers on me that would result from my display of legs and tits.

Now, I kept my jacket open and leaned back a little to better exhibit those tits and their cold-hardened nipples. I stole a glance at two ugly immigrants on the bench across the way, who were obviously talking about me. Men. Middle-eastern. Probably absolute chauvinist pigs. Whatever. I wanted them to stare, to think about fucking me and how they never would. I met the eyes of one of them and didn’t look away. I stared at him as if to say, “Fuck you. You could never even come close to giving me what I need.” He looked away. Then I felt bad for hating him. After all, we were both immigrants here, weren’t we?

Then the distraction was over and the anxiety started in again, this feeling of distress and desperation. I didn’t know how I could be happy again until I found this-this-THING that I felt I needed. I finally just let the words in my head ring over and over, ‘Will I ever lose control?’

Nearing the end of my twenties, I wasn’t sure how much longer I had before my desirability factor would start spiralling downwards at a frightening rate. I never had any problem attracting guys, but the ones I picked were always so nice, so sweet, so respectful. Of course they were. I would never even consider having a relationship with someone that was even remotely abusive. I just pushed my sexual appetite and desires into the darkest shadows of consciousness and hoped they would go away. But they didn’t, and as I became more sophisticated, so did they. Now, I was living overseas in the fashion capital of the world and from all outward appearances, doing great. But inside, I was in crisis. My hunger was no longer something I could push into the background and it had come forward with such a vengeance that I was left in a perpetually bad mood and a constant state of arousal, virtually unable to focus on anything else. As I thought about my upcoming birthday, I felt about to cry. I mean, I didn’t know that I would ever have the courage to pursue this need for someone who could master me, and the chances of finding him by chance were slim to start with and would be nearly non-existent within a few years.

I reminded myself that I was still 28 and hotter than balls and tried to get a hold on myself. I thought about the men I knew, about the ones I’d like to date and the ones I’d like to fuck and the ones I was sure would like to fuck me. I was reminded of one that I hadn’t seen for a while. A security guard at my old job, who had been pretty sweet on me. Gabriel. I was pretty sure he would have liked to date me. He seemed like the love making type, not the fucking type. I smiled as I remembered the way he would look at me. Then one day he was gone. I hadn’t realised how appealing he was until after that. More than 6 months passed, then, two weeks ago, the strangest thing happened. I had got off work early one afternoon and decided to do some shopping in a department store downtown, and as I walked in the door there he was, dressed in crisp uniform whites, blue eyes sparkling. We shook hands and he told me that he had changed companies and was working here a couple of times a week. Right before I said goodbye, he mentioned that the rest of the time he worked at a second store, the newest brainchild of a big name fashion designer. He told me the address and said I should come by and see it sometime. As he told me this last bit, I saw something pass in his eyes that made me think that maybe he wasn’t the love making type after all.

Now, thinking about him and that single look, I found myself more aroused than ever. I decided to check out this new store and at the same time see if he happened to be working. I prayed that I wouldn’t behave too awkwardly if I found him, but I was pretty sure that he wouldn’t be able to tell how I was feeling just by looking.

Half an hour later I found myself outside the store. It was pretty neat from what I could tell. It was huge, first of all, and the front and sides of the building were made entirely of glass. I looked around as much as I could from the outside to see if he was there. Everybody who worked there was beautiful. The store was crawling with leggy clerks with great hair, and gorgeous strapping young men in well tailored black suits. No real surprise there. Top designers like beautiful people representing them. Aaah. Now it made sense. Of course Gabriel would be an obvious choice to work here, tall, muscular with dark curling hair and those aqua blue eyes you could about fall into. Even security had to look good here. I realised as I thought about this, that most of the men in dark suits were part of the security force. Closer look confirmed it as I saw the little speaker headsets that they all had. What on earth could be so precious here that it needed a security team like this? Surely the minor loss of clothing to shoplifters couldn’t possibly come close to the cost of so many employees?

I walked in and saw that the store didn’t end with clothes. This store had everything, from perfume to furniture. It was absolutely huge, and toward the back of the first room behind a partial wall, was a wide open empty space with a vast ceiling and a giant video screen that covered the entire back wall. Even from the front of the building, I could feel the vibration of the base beat coming from that area. I looked around for Gabriel, but saw only unfamiliar faces. I couldn’t keep track of all of the guards, but I had the distinct feeling that they were keeping track of me. As I moved into the back room, video images of women and the pulsing of music washed over me. I took off my jacket and looked around. The store was like a labyrinth, full of unlikely and disorienting spaces.

I began to wander, and then started to feel strange. First of all, I felt like I was being watched. Sure, with security like this, I probably was, but it was more—directed than that. I felt like I was being CAREFULLY watched and it made me feel very uncomfortable and overly self-conscious. I felt clumsy and foolish. I realised how stupid it had been to come here in the first place in this ridiculous state of mind on this ridiculous quest for I don’t know what and I started for the door. As I worked my way toward the closest exit, it seemed like the eyes of every guard in the store were on me. I looked at one of them. He didn’t look away. His face was cold, impersonal. He was watching with detached interest. I couldn’t hold his look, I felt flustered. I had to get to that exit. I began to walk more quickly and as I looked around to see if they were still watching, my heart began to beat more quickly and I started to feel very hot. As I neared the exit, my heart skipped a beat when I saw the guard standing there, at attention, looking right at me. I was suddenly quite sure he wasn’t going to let me out, but I reminded myself how ridiculous I was being. I hadn’t taken anything after all, and the idea that every man in the store was watching me was pure paranoia. I looked past him as I walked through the security sensor. As the automatic door opened and that first gust of cool wind hit my face and lifted my hair, I began to feel the remembrances of rational thought and I moved toward it with welcome. Then I felt the grasp of a strong hand on my arm as the guard stopped me short and pulled me back in. My heart just about exploded. I looked at him blankly.

He looked back at me and said, “I can’t let you leave now. Will you come with me, please?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but the first words stuck to my throat. He waited for me to answer. I quickly managed, “But, why?”

“Ma’am, please just come with me.” If his words made it sound like I had a choice, his physical force sure didn’t. He was slightly behind me with one hand firmly on my arm and the other on my back and was guiding me deeper and deeper into the store. He took me toward another room much like the first I had seen with the high ceilings and sprawling video screen. Again, my senses were overwhelmed by giant images of runway models and the driving sound of music. He led me to the back wall, closer and closer to the video screen and the volume of the music grew louder and louder. Finally, I noticed a vertical split in the fabric of the screen and he suddenly took his hand from my arm and pulled it aside. He pushed me through and the cloth door fell closed behind me. It took a moment as my eyes began to adjust to the low light and my ears to new found quiet effected by the sound dampening cloth door. The room looked like a cross between a lounge and a security monitoring station. It was small, warm and full of soft looking chairs and an overstuffed sofa. One of the walls was covered with television monitors set to every angle of the store. As my eyes began to focus and I became more oriented, I realised there was someone else in here with me.

Suddenly, out of the sensory haze, emerged Gabriel, beaming with a smile of welcome. “You came!” he said grinning, “so what do you think?”

“Oh, well...it’s uh, BIG!” I said. “Nice.” Not knowing what else to say. I didn’t want to tell him that he and his friends had just scared the crap out of me.

“Yeah, well, you haven’t seen the half of it.” He said. “Wanna see more?”

“I think I’ve already seen most of it,” I smiled, “but if you want give me a more expert tour, I’m certainly game.”

“I saw where you went,” he said, “and you missed a lot. But what I want to show you can’t be accessed by the general public.”

I looked at him. He was acting as if this were the most natural situation in the world. I couldn’t decide whether to lay into him about the predatory nature of watching someone for extended periods of time and then calling your buddies to first frighten her and then forcibly bring her to you, or if I should just let it go and act natural. I think he saw my mixed anger and confusion because he walked over, put his arm around me, and guided me toward the sofa. When we were sitting, he said lightly,

“I hope we didn’t scare you too badly. When I saw you come in, I thought it would be funny to play a little joke, but I realise now that we may have overdone it a bit.”

“Was my reaction that obvious?” I said, feeling a little bashful.

“Well, maybe a little.” He looked at me slyly. There was that look again. I felt my stomach leap. “It was a little intense.” I said, and then added playfully, “but I kind of liked it.”

He didn’t say anything and his face became more serious, but his eyes kept smiling. After the irrational fear I had just experienced in the store, being with him in this quiet little room made me feel safe and comfortable.

“You know,” I said, “I’d rather save the tour for another day if that’s alright, and just stay in here for a while.”

“That does sound pleasant,” he said, “but I think you really want to see what I have to show you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?” I said. “Then I’m all yours.”

I think we were both completely aware of the silly double entendres being thrown around at this point, but I wondered if he was noticing the pattern of submissiveness in my latest remarks. After the initial fear had subsided, I was left with a tingling sensation that wouldn’t seem to settle. I was more riled up than ever and wouldn’t have minded being taken then and there without another word. Except, its not the sort of thing you just ask for in the middle of a clothing store from a virtual stranger. But I WAS in a mood, and I figured there wasn’t any harm in flirting a little more than I ordinarily would.

“So, take me where you think I need to go. I’m completely at your disposal.” When he looked at me this time, I was sure he hadn’t missed a thing. My heart jumped again.

He escorted me back out of the room and into the pounding music. Then, he led me up an escalator and down a long glass catwalk that seemed to end at a slightly convex wall. He pressed his thumb into a hidden panel in the wall and suddenly I realised that it wasn’t a wall, but a sliding door that seemed to rotate open. It revealed a very small, completely round room that contained only of a circular, built-in, red, velvet sofa that wrapped around every bit of the wall except for the door. The walls and ceiling were lined with red brocade tapestry and the floor was covered with pale gold and deep red circular oriental rug. He motioned for me to enter and I sank into the deep cushions of the couch. He remained standing and the door silently slid shut.

“This may look like a strange and misplaced room to you”, he began, “but in fact, many things here are not what they seem.

“This is the entrance to a place known only to a handful of people. Access is severely restricted and certain conditions must be adhered to before one may be admitted.”

He stopped. I looked at him, intrigued, but also weirded out. If I weren’t sitting in a circular room with a sliding door accessible only by fingerprint scanner whose single purpose seemed to be to hold a circular velvet couch, I’d say he was being just a little dramatic.

“We’re going to play a little game”, he said. “I’m going to tell you one shocking truth and then you’re going to do the same.” He sat down facing me on the other side of the couch. I was aware of my skirt riding up and tried to pull it down. I felt suddenly vulnerable.

“There’s no need to do that.” He said and only barely smiled. Now I felt the cold beginnings of another wave of fear. His forwardness was totally unprecedented and made me suspect that I didn’t really know him at all.

“I’ll start.” He said. “I have had my eye on you since the first time we met. I saw something in you that made me certain you could be possessed completely.”

My jaw fell open. I quickly pulled it closed, still wanting him to find me attractive even if I was confused and bewildered by what he had said.

“Now,” he said quietly, “it’s your turn. I want you to tell me with complete and total honesty how that makes you feel.”

“Weird”. I said.

“Not enough.”

“Not good.” I bluffed.

“Jennifer,” he said, “you know what I’m asking you to do. Do you want to leave? If you do, just say the word and I’ll open that door and you can walk right out. Decide what you want, but neither of us need to sit here playing games of modesty and social etiquette.”

I didn’t want to leave. The idea of walking out now made me feel empty and hopeless. I wanted desperately to do what he was asking, to let go of pretence and give myself over to the truth. Why was it so difficult to just say what I felt? I decided to focus on his eyes. Up until this point I had been sort of avoiding them, looking anywhere but directly into his eyes. I had focussed on his teeth, the fullness of his lips, the structure of his face, his hair, arms, legs, anywhere but those eyes. If I looked at them too long I felt like I was losing myself. Now I decided maybe I needed to. So for the first time I allowed myself to look directly at him. Aqua blue. I felt locked in place.

“No,” I said softly, “I don’t want to leave.”

“I know you don’t. So tell me how you felt.” “Flattered. Scared. Excited.”

“Good. Now I’ll tell you something else. I have plans for you. But first, I want you to tell me why you came here today.”

Oh God. That was just too much too soon. I mean, I could barely admit to having been flattered by the fact that he had been thinking about me. How could I be expected to confess desires I could barely admit to myself?

“To see the store”, I began slowly, “and...to see you.” I added.

“In which order?”

I hesitated just briefly.

“To see you, and then to see the store.”

“Why did you want to see me? We hardly know each other.”

“Because you were on my mind.”

“What were you thinking about that made me spring to mind?”

“Why are you asking me this? What is making you ask me THIS?” I burst out. It was like he knew, and he couldn’t be a mind reader. I was looking around the room desperately for something to latch onto, to give me focus. I finally decided it would be better to just go back to his eyes.

“I told you that I saw something in you.” He said, “I watched you over the months and I watched the subtle changes in the way you did things, in the way you moved, in the way you interacted with others.”

“How much were you watching me?” I asked, a little surprised.

“Oh, not so much. I’m just sensitive to detail. When I did watch, it was with attention.

Jennifer,” he said my name tenderly, “just let go and answer my questions.”

“Ok.” I said weakly, “I was thinking about sex and....wondering about, well, about your earlier attentions and wondering exactly what you had been thinking about me.” It sounded like more of a question than an answer.

“What exactly did you conclude?”

“Well, I thought at first that you were kind and, sort of innocent. But when I ran into you last time, I thought that maybe you were, more..” I swallowed and looked at him pleadingly. He smiled.

“I am kind. But that’s not what made you suddenly interested, is it? What do you want Jennifer? What do you WANT?”

“I want to be controlled.” That was it. I had just said the one thing I couldn’t imagine saying to anyone.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

I blinked, still locked into his eyes.

“How much do you want it?”

I didn’t know how to answer that. “I said, how much do you want it?” a little firmer.

“A lot.” Again, not enough. “Desperately.”

“And what are you willing to do to get it?”

“Anything.”

“That’s the right answer.”

He got up and walked over and brushed my hair back from my face. He looked at me with unmasked affection and his hand slid down to my chin and lifted my face for a kiss. Then he went and touched something on the door and I felt a slow downward spiralling sensation. “As I said earlier. This room that we’re in is more than a room. It is the elevator to the underground chambers built to satisfy the particular tastes of the Boss.”

“The Boss?” I could only assume that he meant the fashion designer that owned this store. “Do you mean your boss?”

“I suppose that he isn’t your boss yet, so, yes, that’s who I mean. The Boss likes to grow and develop those things in which he sees potential. He brings out what he believes to be the best in any situation, opportunity, or person. He has single handedly built this empire along with the careers of hundreds of men and women. This sort of, “creative drive” of his extends to his sexual tastes as well. It’s not enough for him to have a woman. He needs to free her mind and her body and he often does this using the assistance of others. In fact, his real pleasure seems to be in watching rather than participating...though he’s involved every step of the way. As you have, I’m sure, deduced by now, I am a little bit more than a security guard. The Boss has facilitated the growth and refinement of my own nature by providing guidance and opportunity. I act as a sort of talent scout and then assist him, when appropriate, in other ways.

“I laid the trail for you to find your way here. I suspected you were already headed down a path of your own and I saw real potential in their convergence. I believe that you are looking for someone to free you from yourself.” He looked at me, waiting for my response.

I nodded, head spinning. The elevator had stopped. “Then, I am offering you the chance to have a real Master who can give you everything you need. But, I have to remind you that real growth is most often achieved only through real difficulty. You have to be prepared for that.”

I wasn’t so sure after all. “I’m a little frightened by all of this, Gabriel. To tell the truth, I don’t really know what I want or what I should do.”

He took my hand and sat very close to me. He looked earnestly into my eyes and said, “I have to tell you that you’re different. I’ve felt you were special almost from the beginning. That’s why it all happened to slowly-I believed that you would come around on your own, that you would instinctively sense what you needed and where to find it. All I did was place myself in a position to provide the few pieces of information you needed to find us. I’m not about to just open the door and let you go to him without monitoring you myself. I want to make sure you are treated right and I can promise you that I won’t let anything happen that shouldn’t. But, ultimately, this needs to be YOUR decision and as I said earlier, you’re free to walk out of here right now if you want to.”

I felt excited, flattered and nervous as hell. Here was someone who claimed to understand my innermost cravings, my secret fantasies, the source of my unrest, and not only was he promising to feed these desires, he was speaking about something larger. About freedom of the body, and more importantly, liberation of the mind. He was talking about the journey away from and then ultimately back to “self”. And he was really turning me on.

I looked at him and slowly shook my head. I wasn’t going anywhere. “I trust you.” I said. “Do what you think needs to be done.”