The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

A year passed. I worked at home and on the weekends at first. Later, I took a leave of absence from the lab. As I began to get closer, I worked longer and longer hours. Eventually, I had to move my private lab to another building and hire a couple of chemists to work for me.

In the end, it paid off. The secret was that an organic neuro-toxin is transported across the blood-brain barrier. Once in the brain, it bonds across the volitional motor-management neural networks. When key sequences of auditory stimulus fire, the neuro-toxin goes to work. When active, it actually burns-out, or burns-in certain brain engram patterns. Said more simply, your brain becomes incapable of responding in any other way.

What the natives used on us was at essentially organic levels of strength. I thought of that strength level as a ‘one’. When purified and synthesized, I measured the results of my work at a level of ‘14,350’. I realized that I could dope certain substances at below a trace level. The formula, which I numbered at the ninth in the series, would be essentially undetectable in drink or food. It would be delivered across the blood brain barrier in seconds, and be fully at work in under one minute.

What I had here was an extremely dangerous thing.

I used the formulation on dogs to start. It worked, and I was able to train them on command, and with cascading commands, to perform extremely complicated tasks. All it required was the formula and repetitive behaviors.

I am somewhat ashamed to say that my next use was less ethical. I used it on the chemists I’d hired, first to make sure that they had spoken to no-one about the work, and second to make sure that they never would. Then I paid them well, closed up the lab, and destroyed all my notes and work that didn’t fit on a CD-ROM. I encrypted the CD-ROM with weapons grade encryption I got from Canada. The password alone was 128 characters long.

There were a lot of ways that I could have handled what I did next. However, I’m a simple man, and I believe in simple and direct actions.

I looked through my notes and found Sam’s email address. I sent her a message. She’d moved on, starting her own small M&A firm. The secretary was happy to give me a new email address for her. I sent another message. Here’s what I wrote:

“Sam:

You once told me that the next time I came up against the real world, I should play smart. So, here I am playing smart. I’ve discovered something that we could make a lot of money on, and I need someone with your brains to make it work.

Bill”

It worked. She wrote me back and gave me her phone number in Manhattan. We made a date to meet over dinner. She’d fly down here on a Friday and listen to my pitch. She warned me not to waste her time.

Most of a week later, it’s Friday, mid-summer, and I’m sitting in a restaurant called ‘Antonia’s’. Its a Greek place, and I sit waiting on Sam. True to form, she showed up fifteen minutes late, probably just to needle me. She walked through the door, and most every head in the place turned to look at her. She was that stunning. She walked over to the table I was sitting at and sat down.

“Okay Billy. I’m here. This better be good. You better not have wasted my time.”

“No, its no waste. I’ve discovered something. Something important. I want to get it loose from what’s left of Fielding and make some real money with it. I decided to come to you.”

She looked at me closely. “Tell me what it is, first.”

“It’s a chemo-transmitter that penetrates the blood-brain barrier. It carries drugs to the brain. In seconds. It’ll revolutionize medicine.”

It took her a few seconds to get it. Then her face took on this feral looking smile. “Thats a big market, Billy from the Block.”

I took a deep breath. “Yes, Sam. Yes it is.”

We ate dinner and talked about forming a corporate shell. We talked about how she’d buy the exploitation rights to my work out from under the new owners. She talked about how to shelter the company, where to incorporate, she talked and talked.

I nodded a lot.

When we were done, I said. “Lets have a drink at my house. I’ll show you my notes.”

She smiled that not-up-to-the-eyes smile. “Sure, Billy.”

She followed me to my house in her rented BMW. When I got home, I unlocked the door and walked in. I pressed play on the CD player and some old 80s new wave stuff filled the house. She walked in behind me.

I led her over to the kitchen island and took down two glasses from the overhead rack. I carefully set down the first glass for her. I opened a nice bottle of Merlot and poured out two glasses.

“Here’s to lots and lots of money.” I said.

She smiled and drank along with me.

I savored the moment.

She waited a moment for me, then looked irritated. “This isn’t a date, Billy. Where are your notes?”

Thirty seconds? Forty?

“Never call me Billy ever again.”

She laughed. “Lets get things straight, Bill. I’ll call you Bill all I want.” She paused and frowned. “Look, Bill from the Block, you came to me, we both know where the power lies, don’t we?”

I passed her the CD.

“Are these the notes, Bill?” She frowned harder.

“Tell me the truth about Alan.”

She looked at me, slightly surprised. “No, Bill. I don’t think you and I have anything to say to each other about Alan. I’m certainly not going to tell you anything you don’t already know about how I staged that scene with the hookers.”

Her eyes opened wide. She looked around, seemingly embarrassed. She turned to leave.

“You like my company. You don’t want to leave.”

“No, Bill. I don’t really like your company, I actually very much like being around you. Do you mind if I stay a while?” She smiled at me, still a calculating smile... but it had cracks in it.

“Never to go to the police about me or my business without asking me. Never talk about me or my business to your friends or acquaintances unless you ask me and I agree first.”

“Fuck you, Bill. We’ll see about that.”

“From now on, you’ll be polite to me, and deferential. Be deferential to me.”

She struggled a moment.

“What in the world is wrong with me, William?” She looked at me with the look of a coyote whose leg is caught in a trap.

“Oh, another thing. Never speak poorly about me to another again in your life. Obey me and my instructions to you.”

Her face was a neutral, almost blank slate. “Oh of course, William. Do you mind if I call you William?”

“Yes, I do. You may only refer to me as Mr. Tawse, or Sir...” I hesitated a second. “Or Master.”

She slapped me across the face. It hurt.

“Never strike me again.”

“Never try to hurt me again.”

“Never allow another person to hurt me.” I thought a moment. “Do not conspire against me or my business.”

“Always tell me the truth.”

“Never keep a secret from me.”

A sweat broke out on her forehead. “Yes, Mr. Tawse. Please, Mr. Tawse, for the love of God, Mr. Tawse. Please tell me what’s happening to me. Did you drug me?”

“Yes, Samantha. Yes, you’re under the influence of a drug. It won’t last much longer. However, it’s influence will apparently last forever. Your brain is being re-wired.”

“Oh God. Pardon me, Oh God Mr. Tawse.”

I took out my notes and reviewed what I’d written for myself. It looked like I’d left a couple of instructions out of my list so far.

“Do not try to harm yourself, ever.”

“Regard yourself as my property.”

“Be pleasing to me.”

“Obey my instructions.”

“Well,” I said, rising from the chair, “I think that about covers everything. It’ll take some time for that to settle in, and I don’t want to fuck you up too badly for right now.”

She looked at me. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.

“I’m going to bed.” I said. “You sleep on the couch.”

She nodded politely and smiled. I was concerned for a second that her face might shatter.

I went upstairs and went to bed. The house was quiet. I went to sleep.

In the morning, I awoke to the smell of food and the sound of a vacuum running. Coming down the stairs, I saw Samantha, wearing one of my bathrobes over one of my shirts, vacuuming the living room, and that there was a breakfast set out on my table.

I went over and sat down. The eggs were undercooked and the bacon was too dark. The coffee was too strong. She’d made it all in my kitchen. I smiled to myself.

Meanwhile, the world’s angriest vacuumist was busy in my living room. She didn’t seem to be very good at it. However, she was doing it.

She looked at me and turned off the vacuum. “Good morning Mr. Tawse. I. Hope. You. Slept... Well.” She grimaced between words, fighting herself.

I just smiled at her.

She burst into hot tears and turned her back on me.

“I tried to leave and I couldn’t. I’m trying to keep this a secret from you. I’m embarrassed. I feel humiliated. I made you breakfast. I was trying to make you happy, and that makes me ill somewhere inside. I want to kill myself, but I know I wont. I want to kill you, really badly, and I’m hoping this wears off so I can.”

She paused. “I really don’t want you to know how weak and helpless I feel right now.”

Fresh tears came.

I could see a blush begin to spread down her hairline. “Oh, one other thing. This is all turning me on some, and that horrifies me. I just thought you’d want to know that.”

“Thanks” I said.

“Are you a lesbian, Samantha?” I sipped the coffee as I looked at her.

“Yes, Mr. Tawse.” She forced a smile as she looked at me. “I’ve always found men to be disgusting, and ignorant of a woman’s sexual needs. Men are forceful, when tenderness is needed. Just the thought of being with a man makes me slightly ill.”

I nodded as I listened. I’d wondered how strong the programming was, I thought that it was a great time to find out. I left her cleaning and went to the basement. I opened my safe and took out a small vial, one of many. I returned to the kitchen, locking the basement behind me.

I took a cold bagel out of the fridge. As she cleaned in the other room, I toasted and buttered it. Over the top of the toasted bagel, I carefully poured out one full drop from the vial.

“Samantha, come here please.”

She stopped vacuuming and walked in. “Yes, Mr. Tawse? The hostility was boiling away in her voice.

“It would please me if you ate this.” I smiled.

She looked at the bagel and then at me. I could almost feel her resistance as she paused for a long moment. “Eat that, Samantha. It would make me very happy.”

She shuddered and took it from my hand. “Please, for God’s sake, Mr. Tawse... don’t drug me again!”

“But it would make me happy.”

“Oh. Well then...” She grimaced and took a bite. Then she took another. “The whole thing?”

“Yes, Sam. Eat the whole bagel.”

About halfway through the bagel, her face began to become slack and she lost much of her nervous muscle tension. She’d ingested ten normal doses by the time she finished the bagel. From my experiments, one dose was sufficient to implant basic, solid programming. Two to three doses allowed you to implant deep, long lasting, perhaps permanent programming.

Ten doses? Who knew. I’d had to guess that at ten doses, autonomic systems might well become programmable. I knew that the LD50 was somewhere near forty normal strength doses. At ten doses, the chance of irreparable damage should have been minimal.

She began to lose control of her major muscle groups, and I caught her as she slumped to the floor. I carried her to the living room couch and laid her down on it. Just in case, I slid a towel under her. I pulled up a chair very close. I leaned over her.

“Sam, blink if you can hear me.”

No response from her.

“Samantha, blink an eye for me.”

It took a long time, but her left eye opened and closed slowly. She could hear me.

“Samantha, I have bad news for you. Your pussy wants cock. Your ass wants cock. Your mouth wants cock. You, being a proper lesbian, don’t want cock.”

“Your pussy ass and mouth are stronger than you are.”

“When your pussy, ass or mouth start desiring cock, they force you to submit to their degrading sexual desires. You become powerless over them.”

“Lucky for you, very little makes you horny. Very little turns you on. Really, one of the few things that turns you on is me telling you that you are getting turned on. Unfortunately for you though, you get turned on every time I tell you to.”

“Unfortunately for you, once you’re turned on, the only thing that will turn you back into a good lesbian is cock. Until you can get dick in you, and until you cum, and cum enough, you can’t turn back into a lesbian.”

“Unfortunately for you though, there’s only one way you can cum enough. You can only cum to the sound of my voice. You can only cum when I tell you to... not to a recording either, only to me, and only when I say so. So you only ever get enough when I say so.”

“Now, repeat that back.” I leaned in close to listen. She began to whisper, her jaw barely moving.

“My pussy and ass and mouth want cock. They are stronger than I am. When they are turned on, I am powerless over them. The only thing that turns me on, ever, is you telling me that I’m getting turned on. The only way for me to be satisfied is with cock, and I cannot be satisfied until I cum enough, and I can only cum enough to be satisfied when you tell me to.”

“Good girl. Now, forget that these instructions have been implanted. Your body will obey the instructions, but you will now forget that they ever happened. Good. Now forget yesterday’s instructions, your body and mind will obey, but you have now forgotten that I’ve done this to you. Now you’ve forgotten completely.”

She slept for hours on the couch. Late in the day she began to stir, then she rose and stretched. She smiled unselfconsciously, not seeing me. With a slight yelp she noticed me.

“Oh, I’m so sorry Mr. Tawse, I must have fallen asleep on your couch. Do forgive me?”

“Of course, Samantha.”

“Um, what day is it?”

“It’s Saturday afternoon, Sam.”

“Oh! I’m going to miss my flight home.” Her brow wrinkled in thought. “Maybe I could fly out on Sunday. We have more negotiations to hammer out.”

I smiled at her. “We do?”

“Absolutely, Mr. Tawse. For example, the corporate structure I proposed earlier won’t work at all. It’s designed to allow me to wrest control from you and seize the entire value of the company.” She stopped herself with a horrified look on her face. “Oh dear, why did I say that? Now I’m going to have to make the deal look sweet and then have moved out of the way or even ruined.”

“Oh god, what a bad idea.”

“Am I talking out loud?”

“Why am I telling you these things?” She looked panic stricken.

“Calm down, Samantha.”

She took a deep breath and steadied herself.

“Everything will be alright from now on.”

She looked at me quizzically, but relaxed.

“You’re not going to have me ruined or publicly humiliated, you’re not going into business with me, you’re not going to worry about me. In fact, you’re just going to go get on with your life. I’m not interested in being your partner.”

She breathed a deep sigh and her shoulders lost their tension. “But Mr. Tawse, I really feel like I should be spending some time down here with you. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I’m certain that there’s something we can accomplish together. In fact, I think you’d be quite pleased with the business we could do together. Very pleased.” Pink spots had appeared on her cheeks as she said this. “I’d like you to regard me as being available to you.”

“No, Samantha, I think I’d be pleased if you left. Went back about your business. Went on your way. Yes, that would please me.” I grinned at her. It was probably not a really nice smile.

She gathered her dignity along with her clothes and headed upstairs to change. She’d not said a word about the state of undress she’d found herself in. I wondered how she’d rationalized it to herself. Maybe she’d told herself that she had had to offer herself to me to seal the deal. If so, she was surely regretting it now.

A few minutes later she came down fully dressed and we exchanged pleasantries as she waited on a cab. When it came, she hesitated on the doorstep, trying to find a way to stay. I pushed her out onto the step and closed the door. I heard a gasp of frustration. When I looked out next, she and the cab were gone.

My phone began to ring every day. It was always Sam, on her way into work, trying to find a way to get me to let her come back, to be near me. I never said yes.

“Mr. Tawse, this is Sam again. I’m on my way into work. I just wanted to leave you a message and apologize once again for the mess I made of our potential deal together. It’s not like me to call an associate and apologize, but for some reason I value your opinion of me highly. Lets find a way to work together in the near future.”

A few days later.

“Hi Mr. Tawse, this is Sam again. I know I’m leaving you a lot of messages, but I’ve been doing some thinking. This is about the things I said and did from before, isn’t it? It’s about that mess at Fielding, isn’t it. I’m so sorry I said those things. Please let me come down there and apologize in person. Please.”

A week passed.

“Mr. Tawse.... Sir. Oh god, please let me come see you. I know that I’ve been horrible to you, ever since we were kids. I was always mean to you, always. I’ve been doing some soul searching and I know I need to change. Please call me. Please.”

Two more weeks of messages and I came home to hear this on my machine.

“Sir... Mr. Tawse, Sir. Please, I beg you, please forgive me for what I’ve done. I need to be near you. I need you, I need you to forgive me. This is killing me. I can’t sleep at night. I made a list of every mean thing I ever did to you that I can remember. I want to apologize to you for them. Please let me. Please.”

BEEP. Beep.

“Please, oh god please let me come back down. Please Sir.”

BEEP. Beep.

There was a long silence.

BEEP. Beep.

“Please. I’ll do anything, even sexual things. Anything. Anything to be near you. I need to be near you.”

The next day...

“M... MMM...”

BEEP. Beep.

“MmmmMaster. Please. Please let me see you... Master.”

I picked up the phone and called her. The phone rang twice, then apparently rolled over to her cell phone. There was a squeal of delight when she answered. “Yes?? Yes, Sir?”

I could hear people talking in the background.

“What did you call me yesterday, Sam?”

“... master ...” She whispered into the phone.

“Louder, Sam, nice and loud. Say it so everyone around you can hear it.

“MASTER! PLEASE!” She shouted into the phone. Her voice was distorted by the volume.

“Okay fine. I’ll allow you to come to my house... But only under one condition” I chuckled aloud.

“Yes, Master, ANYTHING!”

“Samantha, you’re going to tell the story of Fielding and Stoddard to the DA up there. You’re going to cut a deal, and rat out your entire crew of bastards. You’re going to sing like a diva at the Met, and ruin Stoddard. Don’t call me again or come near me again, until that’s done.”

“Then I can come down, MASTER?”

“Yes, Samantha, then you can come to my house.” I hung up.