The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Last Goodbye

They left me in front of a mirror when they brought me off stage. I don’t know whether it was intentional but I cherish the sight all the same. I love to look at myself.

I am a vision of lust, so different from the cute kindergarten teacher they started with. My long black hair falls in silken waves past a face I barely recognize. They’ve changed so much – nose, chin, cheekbones, lips, eyes – I wonder what is left of me.

My body is a wet dream made real. I am toned and firm with six-pack abs. If it weren’t for my breasts and ass, I could pass for a body builder.

Apparently, there’s a niche market for slaves with bodies like mine. My tits and ass – the result of implants – strain against the black latex of my dress, my erect nipples visible through the thin material. My ass is now a perfect ‘bubble-butt’ and my boobs are huge. One of the trainers said in passing that I’m a 34G. All I know is that they feel wonderful and, thanks to the frequent caresses and massages I’ve received in training, they are soft and supple.

All the physical changes are nothing compared to what they’ve done to my mind. This tiny nugget of awareness is the sole remainder of my old life. I feel as if I’m floating in a wonderous pink cloud that is slowly wearing away everything that was ever me.

How I long for the final dissolution. I feel so good that I wouldn’t go back if I could.

I’m not sure exactly how they’ve changed me. I’ve heard the trainers mention various techniques—drugs, sleep deprivation, subliminal messages and positive reinforcement—so I have an idea of what’s been done to me. I just don’t know how it’s worked.

I suppose the how doesn’t matter when the result has been so wonderful. They have wrapped me in a blanket of pure blissful submission and slowly transformed me into the perfect lesbian companion. Before I couldn’t stomach the thought of touching a woman but now I crave a woman’s touch. They bound my pleasure inextricably to the thought and act of pleasing another woman. I orgasm now upon feeling my training partner’s pussy contract around my tongue and fingers. I have spent blissful hours mastering the techniques of pleasuring another woman. No erotic technique is foreign my training partners and me.

Our pleasure has also been tied to pleasing our owners socially. I now speak fluent French – the native tongue of my new persona – and am skilled in the arts of being the perfect companion. I am an excellent conversationalist, have superb manners and am completely devoted to my owner, whoever she turns out to be.

Now I have been purchased at auction for $16.5 million. There’s enough left of me to be shocked at the amount I sold for. I’m a little proud, too.

A trainer approaches and takes me by the arm. I turn to follow her, a wave of pleasure flowing through me at my obedience. For one last second, I look at myself before they take me away for final imprinting.

Goodbye, Emily.

Blades

Weeks of training are over. My body and mind are toned. i am a weapon polished to perfection. Each bruise is a gift. Every sore and strained muscle a cherished sign of my ever-growing commitment to Her.

Each blissful mind-melting moment of mental training is a shining gift from Her. i find it hard to believe that at first i had to be strapped into the training chair, forced to watch the monitors and listen to the voices. She chose me. She looked past my resistance and graced me by removing that which she does not need and rebuilding the rest. Now i climb proudly into the training chair, put on the headphones and press the button that will continue to melt and reshape me. i’ve even learned to put in the IV myself.

i do not remember who i was before. i know that used to bother me but i don’t know why anymore. Now as i stand in candlelight shining in sacramental oils, surrounded by those who will soon be my sisters, i feel only pride. It is not my pride though. i know that She is proud that i have done well in my training and will now become one of Her Blades. If She were not proud, this would not be happening.

my former trainers step forward to present me with individual pieces of my new uniform. It is all in rich black leather with shining buckles. Thong, leggings, boots, corselet, gloves, an empty holster and bracers are all placed upon me. Then the captain of the Blades, brave 235, steps up and gazes into my eyes. she is so beautiful, her eyes slightly glazed, the candlelight gleaming off her bald ebony pate. She nods, turns about and the Blades snap to face the door.

my pussy quivers. i’ve already soaked the leather thong but who could fail to be aroused at a moment like this?

The double-doors open and we march into the Great Hall. A thousand candles reveal slaves lining the walls three deep, beautiful women in luminous silk, glistening latex and polished leather. The glow of the candles on their smooth, shaved heads is mirrored in their glazed eyes, gazing through us as we pass. we stop before a dais, the slaves lining the walls turn to face the throne and we all drop as one to one knee, heads bowed.

i come, gently. The scent of sex is overpowering.

“Who comes before me?” It must be Her voice. Only She could have a voice that strong, that rich.

“279, for induction into Your Blades, my Queen,” replied 235.

“Bring her to me,” She said.

i almost cannot stand. i do not deserve to be here with Her but 235 has assured me, repeatedly, that i am worthy to be one of Her Blades. She has willed that it be so. Her will is mine. I rise as one with 235 and proceed to the dais. For an eternity, she watches me, then has me turn in a circle. i catch glimpses of Her. She is so beautiful.

“Has she completed the training to become one of My Blades?”

“She has, my Queen, with distinction.”

“Step forward, 279.”

My legs move, propelled by her will. Even with my gaze averted i catch a glimpse of shining black hair and shimmering crimson silk. i drop to my knees before her. i begin my speech.

“i present myself to you, my Queen and humbly ask that i be allowed to serve. i am yours, body and mind. Your thoughts are mine, Your will is my command. i have no desire other than to serve and be your weapon.”

“If all that you are is Mine,” she said, “then what do you offer in sacrifice?”

“The only thing left to offer is my hair, my gracious Queen. i offer it freely as my sacrifice.”

“I gladly accept.” With that, four house slaves step forward and begin to shave my head. Each stroke of their straight-razors is a delicate lick on my clitoris or a nibble on my nipples. Each tiny orgasm is a gift from Her.

Tears of gratitude pour down my face. When at last they are done, She steps forward, raises my chin and wipes away my tears. Another glaze-eyed house slave steps up, drops to her knees and holds out a silken pillow.

“Gaze upon me, 279.” i look up and fall into Her jade eyes. All the conditioning, the hours spent in the training chair were a pale prelude to this moment. She turns and takes a black leather collar from the pillow and places in around my neck. “With this act, I take you as mine, now and forever.”

Click. She snaps the collar’s lock shut and an orgasm splits my soul asunder. my mind opens and a torrent pours through, stripping away the last traces of my will. i only needed the now useless scrap of will to offer my ritual sacrifice. my discipline, based solely on her iron will, holds me still as the orgasm scrubs me out.

“Rise, 279,” i smoothly obey, glowing with pleasure at being favored with a direct order from my Queen. She takes a polished black baton, the weapon of the Blades, from the pillow and presents it to me. “Take your weapon, my Blade, and stand with your sisters.”

i kiss the weapon, place it in my holster and and turn to take my place with the Blades. i am obedience. i am Hers to command.

God have mercy those who stand against Her, for i will have none.

Essence of Obedience

i kneel facing the wall, nude with my buttocks resting on my feet. The wall is beige but that doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except that i am to gaze at the wall until i am told to do something else.

i am a good girl. i am obedient. A soft pulse of pleasure wafts through me. i let it pass.

i do not know why she left me here or where She has gone. She may return. She may not. The thought of her not returning is an icy blade, razor-sharp and quick but it finds nothing to cut. There is nothing in me but obedience and that can not be harmed.

The random thoughts that arise and drift through me are of no concern. i am smooth, empty. She has taken the time to grace me and make me hers. She has hollowed me out, cutting away all those parts that are no use to her. There are no rough spots or protrusions in me for any stray thought to find purchase on. i am grateful that She has made me hers. i am just aware enough to know what She has done.

i am obedience. i gaze at the wall. i blink and breathe in a slow, steady rhythm. There is a dull ache in my knees from holding this position on the hardwood floor. The ache fades.

The only sound in the room is my breathing. i blink twice for each slow breath in and out. In through my nose, out through my mouth, each breath exactly the same as the one before. my pussy glows with each breath, with each small task completed exactly as i have been ordered to perform it.

With each breath, each small task successfully completed i become more of her slave. More her object. my pussy clenches and pleasure once more blooms in me. i focus on the task and let it pass.

A tone chimes softly in the room. my hands rise of their own volition from their resting place on my thighs, drifting up over my flanks to cup and lift my breasts. The thumb and forefinger on each hand position themselves on either side of my nipples. i don’t know why i have done this but it must be because She has willed that it be so. i gaze at the wall holding my breasts for several breaths. i am obedient.

Another tone chimes. my hands begin to stroke and caress my breasts. They are large and full, bigger than they used to be. My hair is on my breasts now as well, it wasn’t this long before. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but that i kneel here, breathing and gazing at the wall while my fingers dance gently across my breasts. my pleasure is Her gift. i am grateful. my gratitude slides through me cleanly, leaving only what she desires me to be.

Dual Occupancy

“Oh my God …”

What?

“What the hell did you do?”

Oh, that’s right. You haven’t seen them yet. What do you think? Did you enjoy your nap?

“Are you insane? They’re bigger than my head!”

Our head, dear, our head. Don’t worry though, I’ve altered our skeleton and muscles so we can carry them without any problem.

“That’s not the point!”

Which is?

“You’re making too many changes, the last couple without asking me.”

You don’t like the hair? Or the legs, arse and … well, the renovations in general?

“No, look I …”

WE.

“Okay, we look great but that’s not the point. It’s, it’s …”

You keep talking about this point but I’ve yet to hear it. I would point out that we do share the same mind. Any point you have to make or issue you have to raise would be obvious to me.

“The point is, I’ll never be able to go back to the firm looking like this. I mean, it’s been fun and all but I’ve got a law career to think about.”

Correction, my dear. You had a law career to think about. Those days are gone. You have another career now. It’s just not the one you went to college for.

“But dancing naked in front of strangers isn’t what I want to do for the rest of my life! What … stop that! Oh …”

Feels nice, doesn’t it? I increased the number of nerve endings in our breasts.

“But ... oh … uh, we need to talk … oh ... not the nipples, please …”

I made the aureole and nipples bigger and more sensitive too, makes the piercings so much more effective. That’s right, roll them between your fingers, let it flow … Besides, I never said anything about dancing forever. Our plans are bigger than that.

“Plans? What ... OH! Fuck …”

Yes dear, plans to draw them to us and use them. So, that’s nice, eh? And that was just a taste. Let’s slide the left hand downstairs, I’ll show you the other improvements I made.

“Other … ooh … that’s nice.”

You weren’t sure about piercing our hood but are you sorry now? That’s it. It’s bigger and more sensitive too. Like a ripe grape and that sweet metal ring teases it so nicely.

“SHIT! Oh, my dear fucking …ooh …”

Now we’ve got this long, silky hair, doesn’t it feel nice, draped over our breasts? So much better than that awful pageboy you had when I met you. And that stringy mousy brown hair. The less said about that, the better. That’s it dear. Keep stroking our nipple and slide a finger or three into our cunt.

“Yes … it feels nice, sooo nice.”

I’ll tell you something. You didn’t pick the ring. I picked you. I could feel your need. You were a dried-out sponge and I’ve filled you to bursting. No one ignores us now. We stop traffic. We literally make people ride bicycles into trees. We’re a public menace and you love it.

“Yessss …”

But to meet our goals we have to feed and that means a steady supply of lust. Dancing at the club is perfect. We don’t even have to dance, we could just sit there and feast but we do enjoy the attention, don’t we?

“What goals? ... oooh ... Yes, so nice, so sweet. Oh … shit.”

What goals? Why, the only goals that matter, dear; drawing enough worshippers to give us enough power to become a Goddess again and rising to our rightful place in the world.

You know, I could have just absorbed you and been done with it. I don’t want to do that, though. I like you and I’d hate to be without you. It’s interesting. I’ve never taken to a mortal like this before.

“No, please, don’t leave me...”

I won’t, my sweet. You’ll see, the club will be better than the temple ever was. Soon we’ll be strong enough to turn it into a temple. They will flock to us and it will be as it was. All will kneel before us. No one can stand against us. They simply won’t be able to. The knowledge of those who imprisoned me has been lost forever.

That was a delicious orgasm, wasn’t it? Now, let’s go. We don’t want to disappoint our public.

Hunter-Killer

The plaza outside the Cal-Central State library is packed with students rushing about in the usual helter-skelter one finds in the middle of the day. It wasn’t too long ago that I was like them, concerned only with passing my courses so I could graduate.

Those days are long gone. Today I’m here to hunt.

I pass through the crowd without anyone noticing me. Even without my shielding up, I don’t make a huge visual impression. My appearance is all part of my weaponry. Even if the target sees through my shields, all they find is a 4′10″, 97-pound brunette with a pixie haircut. I’m hardly a threat in most people’s eyes.

I sweep the crowd with a passive scan similar to a submarine’s sonar. If I use an active scan the target will know I’m there. I pick up several Level 1 telepaths and one Level 1.8 telepath/telekinetic. I file her imprint away for future reference. My target today is a Level 2.7 telepath, a real asshole. I’m a Level 4.9 telepath/telekinetic though, he won’t be a problem.

I suppose it’s the general lack of originality in these people that pisses me off so much. It’s like there’s some script that says “gee, I can control the minds of others, what should I do? I know! I’ll make the girls and/or boys at the local university my sex slaves!” Boring.

Then they try to turn the university into a smorgasbord and the Consortium sends in someone like me. We’ve always been among you. In return for promising not to take over the world or ruin the economy, we’re allowed to live comfortable lives. Our part of the bargain is that we police the telepaths, telekinetics and others with powers you don’t want to know about. The system has worked for over two thousand years.

So, the conspiracy theorists are right. There is a powerful, shadowy group that’s influenced the fate of nations for centuries. It’s just not the Freemasons. They’re just a bunch of old guys who like to dress up and hold weird rituals.

I continue on, passively sweeping the crowd until I get a hit in the quad outside the dining hall. He stands out a rosy red amongst the grey nulls of the student population, a skinny little fucker with greasy hair and a bad complexion. A quick check shows me that he’s so focused on his would-be victim, a pretty blond girl in a sorority sweater, that he doesn’t even know I’m there. That’s just sloppy. Always, always, keep at least a minimal scan up at all times.

If he’d just been patient, the Consortium would have picked up on him and brought him into the fold. Taught him how to use his powers and set him up for a nice life. Instead we have to do this the hard way.

I divert part of my energies to a protective scan/shield and prepare to attack. A small thrill, almost a mini-orgasm, trills through me. It always does when I’m about to do what She has directed. No time for that now though. I have to make her proud.

I attack.

Imagine a charging elephant slamming into a lion. Picture the biggest, meanest linebacker you ever saw plowing unstopped into a quarterback. Think of a thirty-foot anaconda striking and wrapping its victim before it even knows there’s a threat. That’s how I hit him. At the same time, I throw a protective “blanket” over the sorority blond.

He doesn’t stand a chance. Before he can blink, the target is relieved of everything but control over his autonomic nervous system. He sits in a state of shock as I turn my attention to his victim. I gently disengage her from his control and check to make sure she’s basically okay.

This is tricky business. I can’t “undo” some changes. There are quite a few oversexed bimbos running around that I just couldn’t help, other than trying to increase their restraint. This girl should be fine, no lasting damage. A quick scan reveals that she’s a deeply closeted lesbian and it’s making her miserable, though. I ponder the matter and open a mental channel to Her.

“Pardon the intrusion, my Mistress, but there is a matter I need to discuss with you,” I convey a posture of supplication through my tone of voice.

“Yes, little one”? Her voice is a tonic, washing pure joy through me. ”Has there been a problem?“

“No, Mistress. All has gone according to plan. The threat has been neutralized. He was in the act of creating another slave but I was able to stop him before too much damage was done.”

”Excellent, little one.“ Ecstasy spikes in my soul but I keep it down to a dull glow. After all, I’m restraining a dangerous telepath, holding a young woman in stasis, shielding us from the crowed and carrying on a psychic conversation. Even I have my limits. ”What is the difficulty?”

I explain about the lesbian sorority girl and She chuckles. ”You do not even have to ask, little one. Open her to me.”

I do as She commands. I feel my Mistress slide gently into the girl’s mind, removing the mental blocks that were holding her sexuality in check. After a few other changes, She withdraws.

”I will make the appropriate attitude changes in her family and friends,, little one. You did well to bring this to my attention, she deserves some happiness. Bring the target in. You will be rewarded.” The channel closes.

A single sweet thought wafts through the part of me that isn’t already extremely busy. I have pleased her. The orgasm is small but beautiful.

I release the sorority girl. She shakes her head, picks up her books and walks away. I turn my attention back to the target, wondering what the Consortium has in store for him. He’s fucked up, not anywhere near as badly as some, but he has stepped in it. They may just wipe his powers, put such intense blocks on his abilities that he’ll be reduced to a null and released.

Then again, they may rehabilitate him. Use their superior powers to step into his mind and make wholesale changes to his attitudes and loyalties. Wed him completely to the service of a Consortium board member, make them the center of his world, make their pleasure his.

He should be so fortunate. It was the best thing that ever happened to me.