The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Hey, Colonel Sanders?”

Emily toppled onto her bed face-first, a furniture-rattling move that Rebecca had begun to refer to, when her roommate was not around, as the ‘Emily Flop.’ Simply sitting on a bed like a normal person was far too pedestrian for the energetic redhead, who presently rolled onto her stomach and rested her head on upturned palms.

“I got a question for you, Rebecca.” Her pretty eyes twinkled.

“You always have a question for me.”

“Mmm, I was just thinking about something on my way over here.”

Emily thought about a lot of things. It was her third-best feature, according to the embarrassingly long list Rebecca had scribbled in the margins of her Expository Writing notebook. ‘Inquisitive,’ right behind ‘great ass’ and ‘super nice.’ Some people went to college simply to learn a trade; Emily had come to fill her brain with every last piece of information available to her.

“Okay, shoot,” said Rebecca. She set aside her boring textbook for the third time and stretched her legs. “What’s the question of the day today?”

Emily drummed her fingertips against her cheeks. “Okay. If you had one unstoppable superpower, what would it be?”

Oh no. “What did you…” Rebecca could feel the familiar little ball of panic rising from her gut into her throat. It was the ”What’s the sexiest movie you’ve ever watched” question all over again. “That’s, uh… that’s a weird one.”

“I know! There’s a comic book artist guy down at the student union signing autographs, and it just got me thinking about it. What it would be like, you know?” She sensed that Rebecca was hesitant to answer, and plowed ahead accordingly. “So, like, for me? I would have the power to fly. I could go anywhere, whenever I wanted, wherever I wanted. I could fly across campus, I could fly down to McTwinney’s, I could fly to Europe for the day… it would be so cool! Her eyes dimmed as she imagined herself sailing through the clouds. “I mean, it would have to be fast. I wouldn’t want to spend hours flapping my arms like a chicken.”

Rebecca giggled as her roommate rolled onto her back, arms flapping like a transatlantic chicken. “I would… shit. Any superpower?” She knew damn well which superpower she wanted, but she needed Emily’s help in picking out a believable alternative.

“Mmmhmm. Anything. And it’s unstoppable, so you can use it any time, anywhere, and no one could stop you.” Emily finished flapping and folded her hands, resting them on her stomach. “It could be for good or evil, but I know you, you’re gonna pick something good.”

Mind control, Em. Instantaneous mind control. One look into their eyes and they’d be hopelessly under my control, forever. I’d fuck anyone I wanted to fuck, have people wait on me hand and foot… imagine going to Hollywood? Or the White House?

No, that was too much work. She didn’t have the slightest desire to control politicians, armies, soccer moms or steelworkers. She’d stick to Hollywood and the fantasy girls that lived and worked there. Come with me, Elisha, that’s it, look deep into my-

“It’s not that big of a deal, Colonel Sanders.” Emily kicked off her shoes. They both watched them sail across the room. “Just say the first thing that comes to your mind.”

Rebecca did not. She also skipped the second thing, a scenario in which she settled for completely dominating Missy Clarke’s mind, will, and spectacular body with her new superpower. She’d only known Emily for a few weeks, but she was pretty certain that ‘secretly hot for hypnosis’ was not the best or accurate way to describe her roomie.

Unless I hypnotize her into wanting it…

No, that was dumb. She was being dumb. She needed to practice more, way more, before anything like that could happen. Look into my eyes, Em. You will let me practice hypnosis on you. You’ll pretend to be Missy and let me brainwash you. Obey. Take off that sweater and obey.

She was painfully aware that Emily was still waiting for her response. Her brain dutifully held up a number of possible substitute answers, like a fistful of straws, and she reached for one at random.

“I’d help people,” she said. “But not in the normal, you know, the normal psychiatry way, with therapy and drugs and stuff. If I had a superpower, I could just touch them on the shoulder and then bam, they’d stop being addicted to drugs or become more confident or whatever. It would save them a lot of time and money.”

“With their permission though, right?”

“Hmm?” She hadn’t expected Emily to follow up.

“Well you couldn’t just go around slapping people on the back like a faith healer and saying ‘boom, you’re cured,’ Rebecca.” She slapped the mattress for emphasis. “Like, what if they want to be sad?”

“Who would want to be sad all the time?”

“I dunno, maybe it’s their thing. Maybe they’re an emo kid and it’s part of their lifestyle? You can’t just slap that out of them and make them all Disturbing Behavior drones instead.”

“Just because they think they want to be sad doesn’t mean that they really want that,” Rebecca protested. “I’d be doing them a favor. I’d be fixing them.”

“Mmm, I guess.” The redhead did not seem convinced in the slightest. “I dunno. I guess that’s why I’d pick flying, because you don’t need anyone’s permission to fly. I can just zoom around the world whenever, and it doesn’t affect anyone but me.”

“Watch out for jet engines, though.”

That brought out a huge, brilliant smile. “You’re always thinking ten steps ahead, aren’t you? See? This is why we’re a good team. I come up with the ideas and the plans, and then I bounce them off of you!”

Rebecca glared at her textbook. “Can you take me with you?”

“Flying?”

“Yeah. Let’s go to Europe today. I’m sick of studying.”

“Mmmmmmm… m’okay.” She laughed. “But you are not riding on my back, Rebecca!”

No, I don’t know where she is! Emily’s thumbs threatened to shatter her phone’s screen with each furious tap. She’s probably making out in the bathroom still, CBA 2 hurry up?!?!

She hit ‘send’ and glared at her message. Glared, feeling grateful that Roger wasn’t there to see her do it. She settled into her uncomfortable chair and huffed. Rebecca, come on! You can fuck your girlfriend when you get home!

They were fucking. Oh God they’re fucking in that bathroom right now, aren’t they? Maybe they’d bring Kayla in for a threesome. The girl clearly had more hots for Colonel Sanders than even Celeste.

But no phone, because she’s a dipshit.

No, that was unfair. Just because Kayla thought she’d left her phone in Emily’s car didn’t mean she was a total ditz, even if she was best buds with Zoe Peterson and even if she-

Her phone chirped. It was Roger. I love you, Princess.

I hate when you call me that. It was a lie. She loved it. It made her feel warm and loved, like a post-coital embrace, something else that Roger was extremely good at. He’d taken to calling her ‘Princess’ the moment she agreed to go to Ren Faire with him, and with any luck, he’d continue to call her that up to and beyond their wedding.

She considered a long list of potential emojis before settling on the big pink heart. Love you too. Wish you were here.

The pink heart zipped between cell towers, headed for DuPage. Emily headed in the opposite direction, slipping her phone back into her purse as she set out to patrol, yet again, the length of the baggage claim area. Thoughts of her car- she’d parked in the more expensive section, expecting a quick pick-up and go- followed her as she tugged Rebecca’s suitcase past the conveyor belt where she’d found it. There was no matching Rebecca here, or anywhere.

“C’mon, Sanders,” she muttered, wishing that there was something small and light nearby that she could kick. She settled for tapping the suitcase with her boot. It didn’t help. “I miss your fucking face so fucking much, just get out here so I can hug-tackle you again.”

“Excuse me, but do you know the way to Santa Fe?”

“Tumbleweeds,” Emily said, before she was even aware that she’d done so. “Prairie dogs.”

A familiar voice. Sweet. Gentle. Surprisingly confident. “Yeah. Also, we should go to Santa Fe one of these days.”

Emily spun around so fast that only the suitcase kept her upright. She broke into a smile that was excessive even by her own standards. “Not if you’re going to make me WAIT all DAY at the AIRPORT, Colonel Sanders!”

Rebecca held out her arms, and Emily rushed in to fit between them. They squeezed the life out of each other, laughing as they did so, the soles of their boots squeaking and grinding against the polished floor.

“I’m serious,” the redhead finally said, reluctantly pulling away from the embrace. She had the strangest, weirdest urge to kiss Colonel Sanders full on the lips. She blinked her eyes, and the urge passed, its very existence quickly displaced by a stream of other thoughts. “Why didn’t you pick up the little white courtesy phone and page me, you nut?”

“Why didn’t you pick up the white courtesy phone and page me?” Tris countered.

“Ah. Touché, Colonel Sanders. Touuuuuché.”

Rebecca smiled. For herself- it was good to be getting back to what passed for normal- but also for Emily, and most of all for Tris. It was their first time ‘sharing’ Emily and it felt perfectly natural, as if the three of them had spent years together.

We have, though, said Tris. Just because your memories go back longer than the ones I can claim as my own doesn’t… I mean, you know. Mine is mine and yours is mine and la la la can we go home and fuck our hot girlfriend now?

“Kayla,” said Emily, breaking their concentration. “I couldn’t find your phone, I’m sorry. I even looked under both of the front seats.”

Rebecca and Tris had planned for this exact moment, and they watched with satisfaction as Kayla briefly stiffened, her eyes and mouth widening before settling back down into a mask of embarrassed regret. “Yeah,” she said, speaking words she’d been taught to say back in the chapel. “I’m so sorry about that, Emily! I had it in my inside jacket pocket the whole time. By the time I found it, you were gone and you didn’t have your phone and… sorry?”

The redhead placed her tiny hands on her hips and glared at the three women. She scrunched her nose and pursed her lips. “You all owe me big,” she announced, leaning forward for emphasis. “Big! You’re all gonna shower me with gifts when we get back to campus!”

“Do you take payment in praise?” Celeste offered. “I’ll start with praise. Emily is the kindest, bravest, warmest, most wonderful human being I’ve ever known in my life.”

“That’s a good start! Listen to your girlfriend, Rebecca. She’s very smart!”

Emily, still in control of Rebecca’s bag, began to head for the exit. Kayla followed her, leaving Rebecca and Tris with Celeste. They took the brunette’s hand into their own.

“I heard that,” said Rebecca. She raised one eyebrow.

“What?”

“Kindest, warmest… you are incorrigible, do you know that?”

Celeste leaned in and gave Rebecca a kiss on the cheek. “I’m your free-willed slave. Better get used to me.”

“You’re lucky you’re so fucking amazing.”

“Mmmhmm!” Celeste laughed, the sound of it carrying through baggage claim and causing others to lift their heads. “Now let’s go home, Mistress Rebecca. Back home to our new and improved life.”

Rebecca let her lead them all out of the main concourse and into the cold, windy embrace of a Chicago spring afternoon.

Zoe Peterson loved being the queen bee.

Like the insect, she was forever surrounded by a crowd of eager, subservient followers. Drones, really, even if they would never dare to think of themselves in that way. Whatever individual personalities, hopes, and dreams they carried around with them in their daily lives were immediately set aside whenever they found themselves pulled into Zoe’s quick-paced wake. After that, it was all about jostling for position and praying to be on the receiving end of praise.

“I am absolutely livid.”

Zoe was not handing out praise on this day. “I cannot believe that any of you would let me down like that. We had that game won, you guys! How the hell do you fall apart in the last five minutes like that?”

“Kayla’s been playing like shit lately.” The speaker, Marcie, glanced back and forth at the four other girls around her, willing them to begin nodding their heads in agreement. They did so, Zoe noted, like the drones they really were.

“Uh huh,” offered Layla. “I mean, every practice now it’s ‘come on, Kayla, pick it up, Kayla.’ You saw how far back she was hanging.”

“I think we should get her kicked,” said Marcie, to another silent round of nods. “But it’s your call, obviously.”

The tall blonde stared down her teammates. This was bordering on mutiny. “She’s not the only one who’s been fucking up lately,” she hissed, her brain instantly wishing that she could chase down the words and stuff them back into her mouth. She knew damn well who else had been fucking up lately, and that person was tall and beautiful and named Zoe Peterson. If she knew it, they all did as well. Just fucking say something to me about it, she dared them, her eyes narrowing.

No one did.

“Anyway,” she continued, “Kayla’s…”

…tongue is amazing. I can’t wait for her to go down on me again. Beautiful Kayla, eyes as empty as her mind, focused entirely and solely on her team captain’s wet snatch. She alternated between gentle kisses and eager, urgent flicks of her tongue, stopping now and then to blow a quick puff of air across Zoe’s lips.

Her eyes rolled into her head. She wanted to come. She needed to come. Her body ached in ways she never thought possible, and she squirmed and twisted left and right on the soft secondhand leather sofa she’d somehow found herself lying upon. She had no idea how she’d gotten to this room, or whether it even was a room. All that mattered was that she was Not Allowed to Come until… until…

“Alright, I think you’re ready now. When I say the word, Zoe, you’ll have another amazing orgasm, and your mind will immediately sink back into the deepest levels of trance. Every time this happens, you’ll find a way to go a little bit deeper.”

Another puff from Kayla, an icy breeze across a scorching desert. Her hands reached for something, anything, her fingers trying and failing to grab the leather cushions. A whimper escaped her mouth, followed by a string of pathetic babbling. Phrases like ‘please, Mistress Celeste’ drifted across her ears, but any sense of shame she might have assigned herself for uttering them was lost in the anticipation of being able to give in again.

To come.

To go deeper.

Always deeper.

The words finally arrived. “Now, slave”, they said, and everything came apart with atomic force.

“Zoe. ZOE.”

She blinked. What the hell was she… they were staring at her. Staring at her. Staring at her like she was standing in front of them in her underwear, lecturing them in Chinese. She looked down, suddenly unsure of herself, increasingly aware of her flushed cheeks and the little damp spot in the most damning of places. “I-I…,” she stammered. Where the hell had she daydreamed herself off to? Again? “I’ll… I’ll talk to her. To Kayla. So, you know. We’ll, um, we’ll see.”

What the fuck, Zoe. She leaned back until she was resting against the rough brick of Levington Hall, the sharp edges threatening to slice open her puffy jacket. It was a signature move of hers, the signal to her drones that the Queen had spoken and court was, therefore, adjourned.

The drones, however, looked less like drones and more like the skeptical, independently-minded girls they normally were. Marcie opened her mouth to speak, then changed her mind, turning in a slow circle until she was facing the Student Union. She began to head towards it, silently, making a point of not looking back at Zoe.

The others soon trailed after her, until the Queen was alone.

Zoe sighed. She thought about following Marcie into the Union, but that would never do. Queen bees never flew after anyone else. No, the best course of action was to make a strategic retreat to her dorm room and then, before dinner, a couple of hours in the gym. Something to focus her mind on.

Of course, there were other things a girl could focus her mind on.

Her hand drifted back to the wet spot between her legs, as if on rails. She closed her eyes as her fingers brushed past just quickly enough to pass it off as an idle swat. Just a hand hanging loosely, dangling in the wind, touching oh fuck yes now and then as-

“Oh, hey there Zoe!”

The blonde instinctively yanked her head towards the sound, expecting a wayward Drone- one of the newer girls, the stupid freshmen who still hoped to become her newest bestie- to come bubbling up to her, all smiles and plastered sunshine. Instead, what appeared to her was nothing short of a religious vision, complete with glow. An utterly gorgeous vision with cascading brown hair and hypnotic hazel eyes, drifting across the Old Quad as if carried by lesser angels. She raised a perfect hand and wiggled five perfect fingers in Zoe’s direction.

“You got a minute? I wanna introduce you to someone.”

Zoe had a minute. Several lifetimes, in fact, that she would willingly give to her Mistress in return for nothing at all. Simply being spoken to by Mistress Celeste- in public, no less!— was more than enough of a reward for anyone. Still, her pussy burned with anticipation, and the damp spot on her panties darkened. She bit her lower lip and tried her best to appear casual, even if her first, second, and third instincts were to strip naked and start fingering herself right there and then.

You will act normal when you are with me in public was the single worst sentence in the history of the world, but it was Mistress Celeste’s command, and Zoe was forever chained to it. She released her lower lip and broke into a smile. “Hey, Cel-Celeste! How are you?

The brunette completed her approach and stopped a few agonizing inches from Zoe’s eager body, carefully inspecting the tall blonde from head to toe. Satisfied, Celeste crossed her arms, forming a cradle for her angelic tits.

“You can stare at my tits if you want, slave,” she said, “I know that’s what you want.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” Celeste’s chest was all that mattered now to Zoe Peterson.

“Breasts are her thing, huh?”

Zoe narrowed her eyes, briefly distracted by the new voice. It was one she didn’t recognize. A new slave, perhaps, chosen by Mistress Celeste to join the Cult of Rebecca she was putting together. A freshman. Someone Zoe Peterson could dominate. She could have the girl on all fours, begging for a taste of her, by the end of their first night together. She just needed to get permission from Mistress Celeste, but how hard could that be?

Emboldened, and looking to make up for her humiliation at the hands of Marcie, she prepared to face this mouthy new recruit. “Breasts are my thing,” she said, pushing away from the wall and arching her back to show off her own pair. “And I’ll be sucking on yours soon enough.”

She sized up her quarry. Dark brown hair, pretty, though a step down from Mistress Celeste. The girl was staring at her with an amused look on her face, as if Zoe were a small child playing dress up, clunking and shuffling about in heels and clothes much too big for her. Her inner bitch growled. “Do you like that? Because one word from Celeste here and I’ll be—”

“Zoe.” Celeste had a shit-eating grin on her face, too, like the two of them were sharing the most obvious joke in the world and found Zoe’s obliviousness to it more funny than the joke itself. “I want you to meet someone. You’ll be quiet and polite, do you understand?”

The fire in her eyes was instantly doused. “Yes, Mistress.”

The brunette’s glance darted from Zoe to the new girl and back again. “I’d like you to meet your Mistress, Zoe. This is Mistress Rebecca.”

Ohmygodhomygodohfuckitsherthisisher

Her Goddess extended one perfect, beautiful hand. “Hi, Zoe,” she said, in a voice sweeter than a thousand gumdrops. “We need you to come with us and obey without question.”

Zoe Peterson died right there, right then, on the Old Quad in the middle of a boring mid-semester day, only to be reborn an instant later in the exact same time and place. She took Mistress Rebecca’s hand, praying that her legs wouldn’t give out, hoping that Mistress Rebecca would see the look of true devotion in her eager eyes. Awestruck, she could only manage to mutter the words that Mistress Celeste had programmed into her soft mind for just this very moment.

“Yes, Mistress Rebecca. I will obey without question.”

“You’ll do as you are told.”

“I…” Rebecca felt the phone slip through her fingers. It landed on the bed face-down, smothering the light from its screen, leaving Rebecca alone in the blackness of her bedroom.

“I’ll do as I am told,” she said, swinging her legs off the end of the bed, ignoring the cold pinpricks of tile that normally sent her scurrying to her closet for her fuzzy slippers. “I will do as I am told,” she added, in case anyone had their doubts.

She passed by her closet without stopping for footwear, choosing instead to pad down the hall in her bare feet. Three ten, three twelve, three fourteen… Pretty girls slept behind those doors, but she wasn’t interested in them. Three sixteen was the door she’d been ordered to find, and now she was standing in front of it, her knuckles already rapping out an entry request.

It took an eternity to open, but time meant nothing to Rebecca. All that mattered to her was that it did open, slowly revealing the beautiful brunette inside like the winning prize in an old game show. She smiled. She was doing what she was told.

“R-rebecca?” Celeste shook her head. Her eyes were barely half-open. “I’m so sorry, but I’m really tired and it’s three in the morning.”

She began to close the door, but Rebecca stuck out her foot to prevent it. “Celeste,” she said, “I’m going to hypnotize you.”

“No, baby, it’s really late and I—”

“Alice commands it, slave.”

“Oh… oh God…” Celeste backed into her room. Rebecca followed her. The darkness swallowed them both.

“NO!”

Rebecca thrashed about in her bed, arms flailing, gasping for air. Someone pinned her left arm to the mattress; the right one continued to wave and grasp at invisible things for a minute before finally, mercifully, coming to rest on her stomach. She realized that her entire body was shaking, in part from the memories of the dream, and in part because she had managed to kick all of her blankets away from her.

“It’s okay.” Celeste was here with her, safe and sound. “Take a deep breath. It’s okay. You were having a nightmare.”

“I… um… I had the Alice dream again,” she whispered, feeling guilty for even admitting it. Dreams were dreams, after all, and Alice was thousands of miles and an ocean away. Besides, they had an agreement. A signed agreement.

“Was it the one where Alice brainwashes the real me instead of that slave personality you put in my head?”

They all knew what the Alice dream was, but Celeste always knew how to walk her through it and, in doing so, how to lead her back to calmness. She could already feel her heartbeat and breathing return to something approaching normal. “Mmmhmm. And we both go home, and neither of us remembers anything about Berlin, until she calls me and she makes me…”

“But you wouldn’t hypnotize me because you wanted to.” Celeste’s voice was soft and understanding. “In that dream you hypnotize me because you’re still Alice’s slave. We both are.”

And we’re not, said Tris. Rebecca ignored her. There was something new this time, something that bugged her in spite of her girlfriend’s loving care. “But this time, I was still awake after she tranced me. Still aware of my actions. And I saw you, and I wanted to trance you. Instead of screaming to stop and not being able to, I was like ‘oh I can’t wait to see her drop under again.’ And I woke up right before I reached you.“

Celeste pondered it for a moment. “Well,” she said, “maybe you waking up was your way of putting a stop to it. You saw where your dream self was taking you and you willed yourself to wake up?”

It was a good theory. Even Rebecca had to admit that. She sighed, defeated for now. “I worry sometimes that there’s some evil part of me that’s going to go nuts one day and hypnotize all of you again.”

“That’s my job,” said Tris. “I’m the mistress in this family. And what we’re putting Zoe through right now is way more sexy than hypnotizing a bunch of Europeans over and over.”

“And we’ll make sure you stay on the straight and narrow, Colonel Sanders.” She grabbed the edge of the bed sheet with one hand and slowly pulled it away from her body, a seductive gleam in her eyes. “Unless it’s me you’re talking about, Mistress. I’m always willing to do anything you command.”

There were any number of ways to respond to that. Rebecca, as always, chose the most obvious one. “I command you to kiss me, slave. Like you mean it.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Celeste droned, a gleeful smile on her face. “I must always obey. Suddenly I have this urge to kiss my sexy girlfriend and, oh no, I can’t fight it! Must… must fight urge to kiss Rebecca!” She giggled. “Willpower… fading…”

“You will obey,” said Tris. She patted her side, at the base of her ribcage, their mutual signal for ‘come over and snuggle.’ Celeste happily obliged, her breasts pressing against theirs as they embraced.

There was something different about the way they made love now. Rebecca couldn’t put her finger on it. Neither could Tris. The first time, post-coitus, they’d slipped away from their bed and spent a half hour brainstorming ideas while perched on the toilet. Nothing clicked, and eventually Celeste came along to chide them for hogging the bathroom.

The sex was still damn good, and Rebecca felt a little guilty about pondering the differences when the most important part was still just as good as ever. If anything, Celeste was a better lover now than when they were still slaves at Alice’s hostel, just as eager as ever but also more… professional? It was a weird word to use, but it seemed apt. The girl knew what she was doing.

Right now, what she was doing was about to send Rebecca rocketing towards the heavens like a lost helium balloon. She bucked her hips and sucked on her lower lip until she was practically swallowing it. She closed her eyes and allowed her mind to drift on the waves.

It’s different because we’re not forcing her, said Tris. Even inside their shared headspace, it was becoming difficult to hear each other, as Celeste’s tongue continued to do what it did best.

We never did, though. The waves they were supposed to be drifting on became a towering storm surge, rocking them back and forth. Rebecca fought the urge to knock her knees together, knowing that the brunette was between them. She tried to focus on the matter at hand. Not since we left Berlin the first time.

Maybe guilt, then? Or the lack of it? Tris arched their back until their ass lifted off the mattress. Celeste followed, never breaking stride. Her tongue brushed against their clit, and Tris moaned in approval.

The room filled with musk and sweat, the squeaking of the bed frame, the occasional profane shout and a series of increasingly throaty groans. Maybe that’s it, Rebecca agreed, as she grabbed two fistfuls of blanket in her hands and squeezed. I don’t feel guilty about controlling her?

And neither does she.

Celeste flicked her tongue just so, and the waves carried Rebecca and Tris ashore, smashing everything in their path.

The screen filled with pictures of a luxurious hotel, including a penthouse-level bedroom and an enormous bed. Two empty blue eyes dutifully took them all in.

A woman’s voice, cold and clinical, crackled through the girl’s headset. “You’ve never slept in a more comfortable bed. Repeat.”

Her dry, cracked lips parted. “I’ve never slept in a more comfortable bed.”

A pair of hands- soft, feminine, not unlike her own- gently massaged her shoulders, sending waves of relaxation coursing through her tired, sleepy body. She sighed, recalling the most wonderful bed she’d ever slept in.

“Your stay was so relaxing,” the voice reminded her.

The caressing hands pressed down, squeezing the response from her. “Yyyyessssss… I’m… I’m ssooo relaxed… always relaxed. Always assssleeep. Always obey.”

The last one didn’t seem to fit the list, but before she could ponder it further, the hands moved to her neck, and the screen shifted to a new set of photos. She let her words fade into the distance. Pictures of beautiful, happy women slid past her empty, unblinking eyes.

“Everyone should stay here.”

“Everyone should stay here,” she agreed. The beds were so comfortable, the stay so relaxing, the host so kind and generous. The prices were fair, and the rooms were nice and warm. Warm and relaxing, warm and relaxed. Warm and relaxed. Sleep, and obey. Sleep… listen and sleep…

“Are you enjoying my lovely slide show, Annika?”

“Yes.” Question answered, she refocused on the screen and the pictures of beautiful women. Everything was beautiful at the hostel, even the guests. It was a magical place.

“Let’s find out how you’re doing, dearie. Stand up.”

The room brightened enough both to wash out the screen and to reveal it as a large, old-fashioned tube TV, perched atop a steel cart that a more awake Annika would have recognized from her school days. The memory was lost to her now, even as the memory of the television itself began to fade away. You won’t remember any of this, not when you’re awake. She concentrated on rising to her feet, which was proving to be surprisingly difficult. She only managed to stay upright on wobbly legs with the help of the massage hands, which gripped her shoulders until she found her balance.

“I obey,” she said flatly. Her dull blue eyes stared through the television screen.

“Did you enjoy your stay in my hostel, dearie?”

“Yes. It was wonderful. The beds were so relaxing. I met so many new friends. Everyone should stay here.”

“Excellent, Annika. You’re a fast learner! As a reward, you may pleasure yourself.”

She smiled. She liked being the good student. She slipped one hand beneath the elastic of her panties. “Obedience is… mmmm… ist Vergnügen…” She closed her eyes and ran her free hand through her sweat-drenched hair. “Mmmm… dir gehorchen…”

“I know it’s your language, dearie, but you must stick to English at the moment. Understood?”

Her hand moved a little faster. “Yessss…”

“Wonderful! A few more sessions like this and you’ll be well on your way to being one of my horsemen. Isn’t that lovely?”

“It’s… oh! Oh my… it’s so…” Her breaths came in rapid, greedy gulps, and her eyes rolled into her head. “Must obey. Musssst…”

“When you come, you will sink into a very deep hypnotic trance. Much deeper than you were just now.”

“Yes… I’ll do… I’ll do that…”

“I’m going to step away for a moment. You will continue to watch the pretty spirals and let them fill you with pleasure. The more you obey, the better it will feel.”

“Better…” Annika was barely aware of Alice, or anything that existed outside of her hands and the unquenchable fire down below that they were desperately trying to rub out. She said something else, something about obedience, but the words came out too fast and jumbled to be deciphered. Alice didn’t bother to try.

“And here you have it! Do you see how effortlessly she went under for me, Amanda? It’s all about getting them into the right frame of mind and letting them take themselves down.”

“But you’re still drugging them,” her assistant noted. She motioned to the little side table where the drugs in question were waiting. A beautiful and very nude slavegirl was waiting there, too, ready to do the injecting if needed.

Her reply upset Alice, who frowned. “Drugs are the grease, not a hammer. You’ve spent so much time knocking them in the head that you never thought to simply let them slide down the ways on their own, did you? Now- hold on, she’s nearly finished. You may come now, Annika.”

“Nnnnnnhhhhnnnn…” The blonde clutched at her pert breasts, sucking in her lips and scrunching her face. “Mmmmmmmmnnnnnn…”

“Ten times deeper, dearie.”

“Uhnn.” Annika’s head fell to her chest. The last of the orgasm hissed out of her as she fell still. Her left hand, limp and forgotten, remained tucked inside her underwear.

“Good girl. We’ll be back to you in a moment, but for the time being, I’d like you to simply float for me, dearie. Imagine yourself in a cozy bed, deeply asleep, floating on a wonderfully soft cloud. Can you do that?”

A head bob, barely perceptible.

“Wonderful!” Alice turned away from the hypnotized girl. “Now, Amanda, where was I?”

“You were talking about hammers.”

“I was talking about how clumsy and careless you were in brainwashing girls like this. We wasted an entire day breaking her of that nasty hash addiction because you were too lazy to do this correctly the first time.”

“Their addictions made them vulnerable,” Amanda protested. “You know that as well as I do, Mistress Alice.”

“Vulnerable!” Alice’s laugh bounced around the cold, damp cellar. “It was a weakness that you simply papered over, dearie. Imagine how much more productive Annika’s going to be now that she’ll be spending her off-hours helping us, rather than feeding her addiction? I’ve been meaning to get my hands on a local girl like this for months, someone who can bring in new prospects from Hamburg and Leipzig to go with my French and American girls.”

Amanda hung her head in defeat. “Yes, Mistress Alice.” After a minute, she raised it again, a memory relighting itself in a dim corner of her brain. “But… Mistress Alice?”

Alice sighed loudly. She adjusted a row of controls on the shelf below the television monitor, switches and dials that were at least as old as the TV itself. “Do try to pay attention, Amanda,” she scolded. “I want you to take the lead tomorrow night when Miss Severn joins us for another session.”

Adjustments complete, she stood upright and rubbed her arms. “It’s always so cold down here. We really ought to consider insulation, shouldn’t we? It’ll cost a small fortune, but I’m sure you’ve got the funds.”

“Yes, Mistress Alice. The Berlin account is empty, and the Dresden account—”

“Went to that awful sister of his, I know. I don’t really need to know the fine details of your financial empire, Amanda. Suffice to tell me that, as my trusted assistant, you will help ensure that this building and its contents are properly cared for.”

Amanda had, early in her enslavement, flinched and fidgeted during conversations like this, a part of her still aware that she was helpless to stop herself from handing over hard-earned fortune to Alice, of all people. Alice, she later learned, had purposely programmed her to respond in that way. Every flinch, every humiliation, every indignity served to remind her that she was utterly helpless to resist, no matter her personal opinions on the matter. By the time she realized that the goal of her programming was submission, not humiliation, it was far too late to do anything about it.

Not long after that, she’d spent a long evening in the same basement, staring at the same monitor. She’d stopped flinching and fidgeting after that.

“I understand,” she said, and she did. She was Alice’s trusted assistant. She had a hostel to run, and a club to upgrade. “I’ll call around first thing tomorrow morning, see if anyone can do the work this summer.”

“Splendid, Amanda!” Alice gestured to the woman in the chair. “Now, the thing you’ll most want to recall about this stage tomorrow is that the subject cannot be disturbed. She’s dreaming, more or less, but if jostled she’ll come fully out of trance and that would simply not do, would it?” She stepped well away from Annika, as if to emphasize the danger. “Normally, I would program one of the girls upstairs to keep an eye on her whilst I attend to business at the club, but tonight you’ll be taking on that role.”

“Of course, Mistress Alice. Anything for you.”

“Well, you don’t have to be quite so coy about it, Amanda! You’re my trusted assistant, not my mot! I dare say I’ll have to find a man for you one of these days. Something to burn off that energy. Would you fancy Peter, perhaps?”

“I don’t—“ Amanda began, but her Irish Mistress wasn’t interested in an answer.

“Anyway, I’ve got to take my leave for the moment, dearie.” She moved backwards, her eyes never leaving Amanda’s, her feet taking well-memorized steps towards the cellar door. “Grace is out sick tonight, poor girl really did come down with something! We’ve got to be more careful about giving her keys to these lads with a bad dose of the flu. Oh! And Amanda?”

“Yes?” Amanda braced for further orders; laundry was usually high on Alice’s list of things to do.

“You had a question earlier. You can recall it perfectly in your mind now. Repeat it for me.”

The thought appeared exactly as predicted, exactly as it had been, and Amanda dutifully recited it. “Not all of my girls were addicts, Alice. The ones- especially the ones from overseas, when we could get them, the travelers? They’re clean.”

“Oh, I’m very much aware of that.” Alice wrenched the metal door open, her gaze shifting briefly from Amanda to Annika. “In fact, there are two very special girls of yours that need attending to.”

“Yes, Mistress Alice.”