The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Butterflies’ Bar was located on the outskirts of the town and catered to the middle class residents of the suburbs. The clientele were largely young professionals who enjoyed the special intimate atmosphere that the bar provided. An atmosphere that was enhanced with secluded booths for couples, candlelight, and soft seductive music from speakers within the booths. The bar was small enough for Violet the manager to cope without other employees.

Monique had never visited Butterflies’ before but was enjoying the atmosphere and a drink with her neighbour Wendy. Wendy had been enthusing about the bar since she had discovered it some weeks before and had persuaded Monique to join her for an evening of girl talk over a few drinks. As she looked around Monique noted that the bar was really very small with only six booths each of which could contain a maximum of four people. Tonight two of the booths were unoccupied while two contained mixed couples and the remaining booth, other than that which she occupied with Wendy, had three women in their twenties.

As she and Wendy discussed a variety of subjects, Monique was vaguely aware of the soft, unusual but pleasing music which filled their booth. She decided she quite liked this bar and would probably return in the future. She also realised with some surprise that she was enjoying Wendy’s company even though she had always thought that she had nothing in common with the bizarre artist who was twelve years her senior.

Wendy put down her drink and announced that it was time to go to the little girls’ room. Monique decided to accompany her.

Behind the bar Violet spoke into the intercom. “New baby for toilet training” she said. From somewhere in the back a voice said ‘’thank you’ in reply.

Monique entered a cubicle and lowered her panties. (Monique always wore stockings not tights.) She vaguely noticed that the cubicle door did not have the usual gap at the bottom but thought nothing of it. As she sat on the pedestal a blinding white light filled the cubicle, totally stunning Monique with its intensity so that she was disorientated. As her sight cleared she found herself surrounded by coloured swirling lights which seemed to fill her conscious mind with a desire to watch them. As she watched she was aware of the music from the booth filling the cubicle, soothing her confused mind.

Monique knew something was wrong and began to fight the influence of the lights and music. She tried to concentrate on where she was to bring her wandering mind back to reality. The person who was observing Monique on a monitor recognised the signs of a subject fighting the conditioning and pressed a button on her control panel to break Monique’s concentration.

Monique was beginning to regain her sense of reality when her exposed pubic area was suddenly hit by a spray of warm water. It brought a gasp of pleasure from Monique but also caused her concentration to be broken. The lights began to fill her mind again but Monique’s will was strong and she fought back against the insidious brainwashing. She knew she must escape from the cubicle if she was to avoid being overcome by the hypnotic effects and she tried to rise from the toilet seat. Once again Monique’s pubes were bathed in warm water and for the second time Monique’s concentration was broken.

The entrancer smiled as she observed Monique on her monitor. She had rarely had to use the water jet twice. Most women succumbed to the lights and music without a need to break their concentration and having to use the jet twice indicated a strong willpower. Then the entrancer realised that, amazingly, Monique was fighting back for a third time. Never had any woman taken two jets and still had the strength of will to attempt to resist the brainwashing.

Monique knew she was weakening with ever moment that passed but with a supreme effort she tried again to raise herself from the toilet seat and reach the door. Suddenly a voice filled the cubicle. It was velvet soft but commanding. “Submit. It is easier to submit. It is hard to resist. Why do you resist when submission will bring you unbelievable pleasure?”

Monique knew what was happening but the effort she had put in already had sapped her strength of will and her weakened mind began to tell her that it would be easier to submit than resist. The last vestiges of resistance were overcome when the water jet was employed for the third time. Monique sank onto the toilet seat with a sigh and let the lights, the music and the seductive voice fill her now receptive mind.

The entrancer observed Monique closely for some time to be sure that every sign of resistance had disappeared and the brainwashing was taking its full effect on the woman. A series of instructions were issued to Monique which would ensure she would conform with the plans that the entrancer had for her.

Ten minutes later with her brainwashing complete, Monique awoke, finished her toilet, dried a surprisingly wet pubic area, pulled up her pants and left the cubicle without any memory of how long she had been in there or what had happened while she was. When she returned to the booth, Wendy was already there talking to Violet the manager of the bar. Everything seemed normal to Monique as she sat down and joined in the conversation about modern art. After a while Violet pointed out that it was closing time. Monique looked at her watch in surprise that the evening had passed so quickly.

As Monique and Wendy left, Violet bid them farewell. She smiled to herself as she looked at the confident career women walking into the night.

“Just caterpillars now but soon they will be butterflies.” she said.

Monique arrived home in a happy frame of mind. She showered and, unusually examined her naked body in the mirror. A full head of blonde hair, blue eyes, full lips, firm C-cup breasts, trim waist with hard abdominals from regular exercise, long well shaped legs and a thick but trimmed bush on a pronounced mound. She was well pleased, except...... For the first time in her life she was unhappy with her bush. An irresistible urge to shave her pubic mound asserted itself. Despite the late hour Monique set about removing her bush with scissors, razor and depilatory cream. She was not satisfied until every trace of hair had been removed from between her thighs and from the tight groove of her buttocks. Once she had completed the task she felt a wave of pleasure sweep over her. She did not know it but instruction one had been obeyed and the pleasure was the reward.

Monique was not a regular masturbator but, such was the height of sexual pleasure which coursed through her body, she knew the moment she got into her bed that she had to release the building pressure with an orgasm. Sliding her hand between her thighs she found her newly shaved pudenda very exciting. As she gently stroked the soft mound and hairless lips she felt her juices begin to flow. When her fingers encountered the damp area between the swelling lips her mind was filled with thoughts of butterflies sipping at nectar from sweet flowers. She saw herself lying in a beautiful garden with butterflies of every colour settling between her open thighs to taste the feminine nectar which was flowing from her aroused cunt. The feeling was so wonderful that although Monique desperately wanted to orgasm part of her wanted the butterflies to continue to lap at her juices and her hot clit for ever. Some of the butterflies had settled on her nipples and their touch sent stabs of delight through her hard buds. Gradually the pleasure built until a huge and satisfying orgasm engulfed Monique. As sleep overtook the exhausted woman, the butterflies metamorphosed into women and Monique realised that her fantasy was based in a sapphic desire. Her mind did not question this change of orientation because instruction two had been obeyed and all was well.

For a week Monique continued to run her boutique with the skill and efficiency that had established it as the premier women’s clothes outlet in the area. The growing sapphic orientation in her fantasies did not impinge on her day-to-day life but every night the masturbation became more frenzied and heated. No longer was Monique just the target of the butterflies. She was now a butterfly herself who was seeking out nectar in the flowers which bloomed between the thighs of women. The flowers were so beautiful it brought her joy to lap at the sweet juices that they provided for an active butterfly’s tongue.

It was Friday evening and exactly a week since Monique had first visited The Butterflies’ Bar when she was possessed of an undeniable urge to return to the bar. She rang Wendy, who she had not seen or spoken to for the week, and arranged to meet her for a drink at the bar. When they arrived at the bar Monique saw that the three women who had been there the previous week were present again and another booth which had been empty the previous week was occupied by two women that she recognised as good customers of her boutique. Two couples occupied two other booths.

When Violet brought their drinks she also gave Monique a plastic card. It was a membership card for The Butterfly Club. Monique felt a thrill as she saw her name on the card. She was a butterfly and that seemed so right. She was no longer a caterpillar. She knew she had emerged from the chrysalis and was ready to spread her wings as a butterfly. Wendy held up her own card and smiled at her friend. At 11pm Violet announced “Time Gentlemen Please”. While this time honoured phrase had been used in pubs in Britain for as long as anyone could remember to indicate that no more drinks would be served, but in the Butterflies Bar the meaning and effect of the phrase was different. The two men present in the bar went to sleep in obedience to the subliminal instructions that had been planted in their minds by the brainwashing emitting from the speakers in the booths. All the women looked expectantly at Violet who announced “Butterflies, the garden awaits you.”

All the women left their seats immediately and made there way through a hidden door which Violet had opened. They descended the stairs to the basement where they entered a room with a number of lockers in it and bathing and toilet facilities leading off it. Following Wendy, Monique found a locker with her name on it. She knew what to do from the instructions her mind had received and, like all the other women in the room, Monique removed every stitch of clothing.

The naked women, nine in all, waited patiently before wide door at the end of the locker room. The door opened to reveal a brilliantly lit garden with flowers, shrubs, fountains and pools. Bowers, which contained soft beds large enough to accommodate three women were dispersed throughout the garden. When the women entered they all seemed to know which bower was theirs and moved to it. Monique instinctively did the same and was a little surprised to find she was not with Wendy but with the two customers of hers she had recognised earlier.

Norah and Sandra welcomed Monique with a kiss on each cheek and a gentle rubbing of their breasts against hers as they did so. Once all three were reclining on the soft cushions Monique was able to examine the two women who were with her. Norah was the oldest, indeed she was the oldest woman in the garden at forty eight, with a very ample figure though not fat by any means. Her breasts were a full D-cup, Monique knew this to be a fact from having sold Norah a number of bras in her shop. Sandra was younger than Norah at thirty two, with a hard firm body achieved by regular exercise. Though not in Norah’s league in terms of bra size, she had a pair of firm B-cups which sported large nipples and stood out boldly from her chest.

A wonderful feeling of contentment filled Monique as the two women began to caress her breasts and nuzzle her ears. Her nipples leapt to erection as fingers fondled them. It was not long before Monique felt fingers moving up the inside of her thighs and approaching the already wet channel at their junction. Eagerly Monique began to return the favour of pleasure by reaching for the breasts of the two women. Norah’s huge soft globes and Sandra’s firm cones were each delightful to Monique in their own way as she explored the sapphic nature which had been instilled in her mind by the subtle brainwashing over the last week. When fingers entered her tight cunt she gasped with pleasure and thrust her mound towards the hands that thrilled her.

“Time for me to sip your nectar” whispered Norah, “while you enjoy Sandra’s sweet taste.”

“Yes” cried Monique.

The two older women moved around and Monique felt Norah’s head between her thighs. Opening her eyes, which she had closed in pleasure some moments before she was confronted for the first time in her life by another woman’s pubic area. Sandra’s mound, like Monique’s, was completely hairless but was adorned in a way which made Monique whimper in delight. The shaven mound bore a vibrant tattoo of beautifully coloured butterfly with orange tips to its wings. Monique plunged her face into Sandra’s cunt and began to lap on it with vigour, encouraged by the active tongue of Norah on her own yearning wet gash.

Elsewhere in the garden similar scenes were being enacted. Wendy had her face buried in the shaven cunt of a statuesque blonde called Jenny who was one of the women who had left her man asleep in the bar. Sally a small redhead, who was one of the group of three women from the bar, had Jenny’s face between her thighs while completing the circle by licking the cunt of Wendy with its Painted Lady butterfly tattoo. The third group of three women was similarly committed to sapphic sex.

The air was filled with moans and gasps of delight, punctuated with howls and screams of the women who were noisy when they reached orgasm. Gradually the pace slackened and most of the women had moved on to cuddling, caressing and kissing with only a few of the most horny ones, including Monique and Norah, still intent on receiving and giving more orgasms. Eventually all the women were satiated.

The only sounds in the garden were murmurs from the women when suddenly the air was filled with the music and lights that had been used to induce their original hypnotic trances. All the women immediately rose to their feet and moved towards a curtain at the end of the garden. They stood looking blankly ahead with their hands limp at their sides. The music stopped and the soft but commanding voice of the entrancer announced " The flowers are open and full of nectar for the butterflies.” The curtain drew back to reveal three naked women seated on chairs which resembled thrones. All three had their legs wide apart to reveal their pubic areas.

Monique gazed with wonder at the three women. On the left was Violet the woman who ran the bar. Her shaven cunt was decorated with beautiful tattoos of violets which gave the impression of growing out of her open wet slit. On the right was a small delicate Chinese woman with her pussy decorated with an orchid. It was the woman in the centre of the three, however who grabbed Monique’s attention. She was a large black woman with a pussy so big it beggered the imagination. The fleshy lips were wide open and glistening with dew but the crowning glory was the way the enormous cunt had been decorated with a tattoo of a pink rose. So cleverly had it been done that it was difficult not to believe it was not a real rose. The commanding woman spoke and Monique immediately recognised the voice of the entrancer from her toilet training.

“Welcome to our newest butterfly, Monique. The nectar of the three flowers is now available to the butterflies. It will be available to you every Friday evening. You need the nectar and failure to drink it from the flowers at least once a month will make it impossible for you to orgasm. Sexual desire will heighten but only extreme frustration will result if you miss your nectar ration. As she is new, Monique may have first access to the rose tonight. Butterflies you may approach and worship the flowers which provide you with a reason for being.”

The butterflies obeyed the command with alacrity, none more so than Monique whose desire to plunge her face into the inviting rose had built to overwhelming proportions. The scent of the huge wet cunt filled her nostrils and heightened the desire in her. Her tongue snaked out and lapped up the abundant juices in the rose. Before long her tongue found the stamen of the rose in the form of Rose’s rampant clit and she began to suck on it with such vigour that Rose reached her first orgasm of the evening and flooded Monique’s mouth with more nectar.

As the first orgasm faded Rose contemplated the power she had established over her butterflies. Rose was an immigrant from the West Indies who had arrived in the country with little money and little education but with a skill to hypnotise which her grandmother had taught her when she was sixteen. It was her grandmother Begonia who had tattooed the beautiful rose on her pussy and revealed her own red begonia to Rose’s amazed gaze. By the time she was eighteen Rose was a full member of the Flower Cult in her native island and had her own group of butterflies yearning for her nectar. At the age of thirty she emigrated with the intention of spreading the joys of the Flower Cult world wide. With the help of Violet and Orchid she set up the bar and established the electronic means of hypnotising potential butterflies that became known as toilet training. There was nothing evil about the Flower Cult and the butterflies were free to continue their lives as before although Rose had to admit that enslaving a woman to one’s cunt was not exactly above reproach. Her argument was that the butterflies received a high degree of pleasure from the relationship and were not injured in any way. Before long Monique had moved on to the other flowers in the garden and drawn the nectar from Violet and Orchid. While supping at Orchid’s succulent pussy, Monique received instructions from the Oriental woman on where she was to go to obtain her butterfly tattoo.

After an hour of bliss for both flowers and butterflies, the session was drawn to an end. The butterflies all took showers before dressing and returning to the bar. When all were again in their places the men were awakened with an instruction which made them believe that in the time had passed since they fell asleep they had had a wonderful evening with their women.

Although Monique and Wendy walked home together they wished each other goodnight with chaste kiss on the cheek and an agreement to return to the bar again sometime. As Monique lay naked on her bed all the delights of the evening came back to her and she fell asleep with the picture of the rose filling her mind. At five pm on the following Monday, as instructed, Monique presented herself at a house on the outskirts of town. Orchid met Monique at the door and invited her in. The sight of the Chinese woman sent a surge of desire through Monique’s cunt as she recalled the lovely taste of Orchid’s juices.

“Come in, Monique. We can get started as soon as you have selected the butterfly that you wish to bear.”

Orchid led Monique to a brightly lit room which contained a table and tattooing equipment. Orchid produced a large book and asked Monique to study the butterfly pictures therein and choose her own butterfly. Monique picked the Swallowtail and was soon stripped from the waist down and lying on the table while Orchid selected the colours she would use. Monique was excited and not in the least concerned that the tattooing would be painful.

“In order to distract you while I am using the needle on your tender mound, you will be able to drink nectar from the flower.” So saying Orchid climbed onto the table and lowered her naked, orchid decorated cunt onto Monique’s waiting mouth. As Monique enjoyed the wonderful taste of the sweet nectar she was totally oblivious to the artwork which was being added to her lower belly. When Orchid had completed her work she stroked Monique’s hard clit to orgasm before lifting herself off the reclining butterfly. When Monique looked down at her pubic mound she was disappointed to see that the new tattoo was covered with a plaster. “Keep the plaster on for three days then remove it carefully. You will be delighted with the result I am sure.”

Three days later Monique was stunned by the beauty of the tattoo which adorned her pussy mound and could hardly wait to go to the bar to show off her new tattoo to the other butterflies. Monique was happier than she had ever been. “Everything in the garden is lovely” she announced to her naked reflection in her full length mirror.

What Monique, and the other butterflies, forgot was that in every garden there are pests which attack the flowers and and others that ensnare the butterflies.