The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Roxanne opened the box and pulled out the earphones. She had ordered the Perfect Sound unit three weeks ago, and it was very expensive. Now that she saw it, it looked unimpressive. But if it would do the trick, the price would be worth it.

She’d bought it on the recommendation of Sally, her closest friend at work. She’d gone on and on about them, almost like some kind of religious conversion. Of course, that was silly. One of the things Roxanne and Sally had in common was their involvement with their respective churches.

She pulled out the instruction sheet and followed it to the letter. The earphones came with several sets of earbuds for a custom fit that would block out all other sound. She tested them and found the earbuds that blocked her ear canals snugly, but not painfully.

As promised, the sound was resonant, and the clarity was incredible. Not only that, but the music from her included MP3 player sounded clearer than she had been able to imagine.

But the reason for which she had bought it was the best of all. Her husband’s TV, turned up loud enough to bless the entire neighborhood with his nightly choice of sitcoms, was totally inaudible. It was perfect.

She spent the evening going through the basement, straightening up and putting her sewing projects in order. She did it to the sound of The Dedication, a kind of christian acoustic rock band. For the first time, she heard every note.

The evening passed by before she knew it. By the time she looked up from her fabric chest, it was one in the morning, and time for bed. She didn’t mind. She was euphoric. A whole evening, spent in her own little sanctuary.

She got her first frustration of the evening a moment later as she pulled on the wires and they came loose, leaving the earbuds lodged in her ears. She tried several times to get them out, but as much as she tried, she only seemed to press them in further. After another twenty minutes, she gave up. She’d need her husband to help her. She couldn’t face waking him up.

Besides, he snored to wake the dead, and maybe these things would help.

They weren’t uncomfortable, anyway. The brochure had mentioned that they were pressure-equalizing so that her ears could be completely sealed, and that seemed to be working. It was almost like wearing nothing at all.

It turned out that she could hear her husband snoring, though. Apparently, pulling the wires out had done some damage... but other than having a slightly hollow sound, there was almost no sign she was wearing anything. She was still cursing at herself and at his snoring when she drifted off to sleep.

Her eyes popped wide open. What the hell kind of dream was that? She looked at the clock, which stared back at her with its neutral 3:23.

It was still vivid in her mind. She had been dreaming of being on her knees. As she looked up, she saw the most beautiful (beautiful?) vagina (pussy) she’d ever seen. Without knowing why, her mouth had started watering. It was part of someone... someone much too important to look at. Instead, she was focused on the pussy... no, on the Pussy. The Pussy sang to her. It was becoming the center of her universe, the most important thing in her life, and on earth, for that matter.

It was blasphemy. Delicious, unfettered blasphemy.

She leaned forward, its smell sending her mind reeling into a kind of dazed adoration. She’d never felt anything like it, ever. It was as if she’d been let in on a beautiful secret, a wonderful ritual that would make her life complete. Her own clit throbbed as her tongue touched the Pussy...

... and she woke up, sweating and nervous, with her nipples so erect that she could see them through the blanket.

She spent a moment in prayer, but her mind kept returning to scene from her dream. Half asleep, she kept drifting where she didn’t want to go.

She was confused and a little angry... she was no lesbian, but her arousal wasn’t going away, either. She slid out of bed and padded to the hall bathroom and touched herself. And electric shock shot straight into her brain. She had the oddest thought that she was being a good girl, obeying the Pussy... damn that dream! She began to circle her fingers lightly over her distended clit.

Sally would be so ashamed of her. The thought, bathed in her own depravity, raised her temperature another ten degrees.

Shivers of pleasure crawled up her spine and over her scalp. It was so fucking good! She thought of the Pussy, of her dream, how vile and disgusting it was. It didn’t make any difference. It only made the pleasure stronger. She began to feel her pulse throbbing in her ears as her clit stiffened till further and her juices flowed, getting ready to send her into a whirlpool of spinning pleasure. She dipped her left middle finger deep inside herself, somehow doubling the pleasure, and brought it to her mouth.

Her pleasure seared through her like a laser... like she hadn’t had sex in a year. Her juice coated her hand as her fingers kept circling... circling... circling.... each movement brought what felt like another orgasm ripping through her.

Finally, her hand slowed and her toes uncurled. She noticed how hard she was breathing when pleasure beyond any orgasm hit her between the eyes. She nearly fell off the toilet from the force of it. Her arms and legs spasmed in pleasure as her head fell backward, eyes wide and unseeing as the bliss obliterated any possibility of thought.

As the room fizzled and disappeared, she thought she could hear whispers—happy, giddy whispers—coming from the tiny objects still stuck inside her ears.

Without even being aware, a finger began to slide up and down the length of her slit, as her legs spread wide again.

She woke up with a start and turned over. She looked down her body and heaved a sigh of relief. Too weird. She heard her husband snoring and smiled. Only a dream. The memory of the dream-pleasure made her shiver lightly and she looked over at him. She almost laughed out loud. If only he knew what perversion lay within her brain.

She had to admit, it was the best sleep she’d had in years. She jumped out of bed and went into the master bathroom. She looked in the mirror and frowned at her hair, which had gotten far too long. Way too cutesy.

She got into the shower and lathered up her body. The washrag was halfway down her belly when an odd thought occurred to her. Her hand dropped to the razor in the soapdish and then pulled the razor gently across her lower belly, where her pubic hair ended. She stopped before it would be too obvious. She smiled at herself. Silly. Such a silly thing to do.

She noticed the hissing sound in her ears and frowned. The earbuds. They were still comfortable enough, but she really needed to have them removed. She’d never get the earphones replaced if she didn’t.

The hissing reminded her of holding a conch shell to her ear, listening to the proverbial ocean. It made everything sound distorted and distant, while the sibilant sound took up all her attention. If she didn’t think about it, she barely heard it. It was only when she focused on it that it bothered her. It was actually kind of nice. It was like a white noise generator, allowing her the space to think.

Or not think, which was even nicer.

She stepped out of the shower and picked up her watch. To her horror, she had been standing in there for thirty minutes. She looked in the mirror again and gasped.

Her crotch was completely bare of any hair at all. She looked at the shower drain, picked up the pile of curly, brown hair, and flushed it down the toilet... a pile as mysterious as her shaved crotch. She looked in the mirror again.

It did look good. It looked... appropriate. Hot. Her brow furrowed at the strangeness of the thought. She watched a drop of water snake down to her belly and disappear into a newly shorn fold of skin.

She was distracted away as she noticed the hissing again. This was ridiculous. She got out a pair of tweezers and reached up to try to pull the damned things out. She groaned in dismay as she felt first one, and then the other slip deeper in.

She thought about calling her husband in to help, but realized she couldn’t. He might help, but everything would come out along with the buds... how much she’d really paid, how she had screwed up. He would love the opportunity to deride her again. The price was too high.

She’d just have to get Sally to help when she got to work. If that didn’t do it, she’d see a doctor. It would be simple enough. Fifty dollars and a quick removal.

She got ready for work, but not before sitting down and masturbating again to the thought of her bizarre dream, as the fantasy took away any guilt or shame. She imagined that she was obeying the unknown language of the hiss, cumming with unknown tongues. It made her a bit late, but she didn’t notice.

She took it as a matter of course.

She didn’t see Sally until nearly eleven o’clock. She was heading for the Marketing Department when she saw Sally coming out of the bathroom looking a bit flustered. Roxanne was still too far down the hall to call out, but not to far away to notice the change in Sally.

Her hair was cut in a cute little pixie cut, blond and very... well, butch. Roxanne blushed as she felt her pussy begin to get slippery. It didn’t make sense.

The earbuds hissed.

Then again, arousal was a basic human reaction, wasn’t it? Seeing beauty evoked a response... that was all it was. A very nice response. It was good to be so natural. It was so silly to worry about it. After all, people weren’t depraved just because they had impulses. That’s what made them humans—the ability to disregard primitive, natural, glorious, sexy urges...

She stopped herself. She was shaking from need, her clit aroused beyond all reason. She had been continuing her walk down the hall, and she now slipped into the very bathroom where Sally had been.

It was alive with the smell of female arousal. Her head swam as she made her way into a stall and pulled down her panties. She reached to pull the vibrator out of her purse.

Vibrator? She didn’t even own one! What was going on? Where had it come from?

She stared at the obscene device. Her finger switched it on and she heard it hum to life. She felt it buzzing in her hand. Her craving was growing beyond her ability to think.

The hiss of her earbuds was deafening.

She touched the tip to her electrified clit and screamed. Pleasure buffeted her around like a leaf in the wind. She was a slave to her need... a slave to her desire... to her depraved thoughts that were running more and more out of control. Her legs flailed, hand rubbing the vibrator over her pussy faster and faster, sending her normal thoughts further and further away.

It was the first of many, many orgasms.

When she looked at her watch again, it was after one-thirty. She knew people had come and gone, but miraculously, no one had done anything. Probably it was from embarrassment or disgust. Roxanne didn’t care. She could only obey her need.

She knew that, now.

As she washed her hands, another woman came in and walked past her. She looked on in open lust, and thought of how sexy Sally had looked.

Sally. She needed to thank her for talking her into her Warp Unit. She didn’t know where the term came from. She didn’t care. She only knew how good it was.

As she walked out of the bathroom, she smiled as she heard the familiar hum of a vibrator starting in the stall.

Apparently, Sally had quite a few friends.

She walked down to Sally’s cubicle, but she wasn’t there.

“She’s having a meeting with Ms. Stivers,” said Carol, whose cubicle faced Sally’s.

“Thanks,” said Roxanne. She turned away and walked back out to the hall that let to Gail Stivers’ office. She didn’t notice as Carol tested another pair of earbuds, trying to find the pair with just the right fit.

Ms. Stivers’ administrative assistant was nowhere to be seen. After a moment of hesitation, she knocked on the executive’s door.

“Come in,” said a voice through the closed entrance. “It’s open.”

As soon as the door opened, the scent hit her and she fell to her knees.

“Ah, Sally, you’ve been so busy,” said the voice. “How many does this make?”

“Thirty-two, Mistress,” said Sally’s familiar voice.

“Thirty-two! Very, very nicely done!”

“Thank You, Mistress!” said Sally.

Roxanne realized that the voice didn’t belong to Ms. Stivers. She struggled to turn her head sideways and saw the executive sitting in one of the guest chairs, naked, eyes wide and unseeing. Her face was a vision of lunatic ecstasy. Her right hand was rubbing obscenely at her pussy, her legs spread open in obscene abandon.

It was very unprofessional, and completely captivating.

“And who is this?” continued Mistress.

“Roxanne Fleming, Mistress, a woman who was my closest friend but is now Your slave,” answered Sally. Her voice seemed untouched by the horror of the statement she was making.

Roxanne was much too captivated by the sight of Gail Stivers to notice. A hungry growl played at her belly as she licked her lips in lewd desire.

“Roxanne, slave of Mistress,” cooed the Dominatrix. Roxanne moved her head forward again, eyes down. It was not a request for response, but an acknowledgement of fact.

She did not look up as Mistress approached. “Of course,” continued her new Owner, “you’ll need to change the hair, get your nipples and hood pierced, but you want to do those things, yes, slave?”

“Yes, Mistress.” She trembled as the word “slave” sent a shiver of sure knowledge through the poor woman’s mind as she recognized the voice of her dream. Her own words confirmed her new place in the world.

She did not worry about how she would handle things with her husband, her home, her job, her family. They were not a part of her new super-reality. She would be told what needed to be done. She would obey. It was only natural. It was the basis of her existence, after all.

As the legs stopped in front of her, the scent of Her Pussy overwhelmed the fledgling slave. She moved her head up just enough to confirm that indeed, this was the Pussy of her dreams. Her passion flexed in recognition. She was being given a glimpse of Paradise.

“Why don’t you show Mistress what you’ve learned, precious?”

Roxanne felt her tongue stretch forward, aching for a taste of Pussy, the Pussy she would live for and obey forever once this consummation took place.

Just before she her tongue reached its goal, she pulled it back. “Mistress, with this pleasure I bind myself to You and to Your will for all eternity.”

Mistress purred. “You may proceed, slave. Taste and become Mine.”

She tasted. She drank. She circled her tongue as her ritual of devotion erased the last of her useless past, burned away like worthless chaff. Orgasm flooded through her, washing away every thought, every whim, every shred of who she had been... her head filled only with obedience, with love, with adoration.

She groaned and screamed in pleasure she knew was reserved only for the Chosen. Her name was only her name for the convenience of Mistress. She was slave. She would be whatever Mistress preferred. She would be Roxanne only so long as Mistress wished her to respond to that word.

She did not wonder what Mistress would call her. She might as well as wondered why her lungs filled with air when she breathed. It was so fundamental as to be a non-fact.

She had been commanded to service the Pussy. She licked and swirled. She obeyed.

Her body, instantly addicted, only became more and more hungry for the pleasure borne of her strict and unhesitating obedience. Life became simpler and simpler as bliss cascaded through her unresisting synapses.

Mistress speaks.

Slave obeys.

There was no room for anything save the insane pleasure and mind-ripping cumming of living for the sake of Mistress... everything for Mistress...

Mistress, and the corruption of Her perfect Commandments.

The earbuds hissed, but the slave no longer heard the sound. As the pleasure swept her into spasms of obedient passion, it was as much a part of her as the beating of her surrendered heart.

New knowledge flooded into her. She suddenly remembered how nice it would be for all of the women in her prayer circle at church to hear the Perfect Sound.

She hissed in obedient pleasure.