The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The train was hot and crowded and Kirsty was pleased that she had managed to get a seat even though the June sunshine was beating fiercely though the window. It was always a minor triumph to avoid the inconvenience of standing for those first few stations out of London. The little blonde insurance technician took a Walkman out of her handbag and slipped the headphones over her ears in order to distance herself from the press of bodies which surrounded her. For the most part they were the usual mix of city workers, soberly and smartly dressed if somewhat rumpled by the heat of the day; but the man sitting opposite was rather different. He was a portly, course featured individual, in his late thirties or early forties with a short sleeved black tee shirt and crew cut grey hair. A crudely drawn tattoo decorated one pasty pale arm. Rolls of fat were escaping above the belt of his trousers and a strong cigarette drooped from the corner of his mouth. His eyes were half shut wells of ignorance, sunk in a slack jawed face and showing only the thinnest connection to humanity. Kirsty shuddered inwardly and christened him the Slob. The man turned his gaze away from the window and gave her a wink which seemed to be full of lewd promises. Surely she must have imagined it! She blushed with involuntary embarrassment as the train got underway, trying to avoid his eyes but uncomfortably conscious that he was still looking her over with interest.

For once Kirsty wished that she was wearing something more conservative. Although her attire was perfectly respectable for an office at the beginning of the 21st century it was subtly sexy in a way that enhanced the appearance of her attractive young figure. Shiny black high heels and fine black tights displayed her legs to their best advantage and she was acutely conscious of the fact that her black nylon skirt was too short to cover her knees. Her thin white blouse had been moistened by an inevitable hint of perspiration (given the heat of the day) and she knew that the taut lines of her lacy white bra were visible beneath. Kirsty wasn’t a tease but she was did like to make the most of herself and enjoyed the attention she received from the men in the office. The stares of the Slob, however, were far from welcome. There was nothing that she dared openly object to, although this was a no smoking carriage and the fumes from his cigarette were annoying several of the other passengers. The man was too daunting to confront, however, and a collective timidity amongst the commuters prevented anyone from saying anything. Kirsty shrank under the Slob’s lazy menacing smile, avoiding the knowing look as though she were guilty of some social faux-pas.

The train rumbled on over the molten summer tracks and Kirsty made a deliberate effort to ignore the unpleasant stranger. After all, there was nothing he could do to her. She shut her eyes to blank him out and turned up the volume of her Walkman. With any luck he would have left the train before she opened them again. As the music found it’s rhythm she felt better. The stresses of the day began to seep from her body and the clackerty-clack of the train soothed her into a light doze. Unconsciously she relaxed in her seat and put her head back. Soon she was quite unaware of the other occupants of the carriage...

The Slob continued his frank scrutiny of the pretty passenger. On the whole he liked what he saw. The young woman was in her early twenties. She had nice legs and although her bosom could not be described as ample he could sense that beneath the sheer white blouse and tight lines of her bra, her breasts would be sweet and tender. He’d been looking for a suitable opportunity for more than a month and this one was nearly perfect. It was time to see whether or not the technique would really work.

The Slob reached into his pocket and flicked a switch on a small rectangular metal box. The device was a special piece of equipment which had come into his possession through somewhat nefarious means. It was research electronics capable of interfering with the normal operation of a radio cassette. Over the top of the basic signal the machine broadcast its own subliminal message with sounds operating at barely audible frequencies. And Kirsty picked them up, her ears and brain absorbing the message whilst her consciousness remained unaware of the orders filtering deeper and deeper inside her mind. When she reached to scratch her leg the Slob smiled in secret satisfaction. The girl was taking the bait! This was the first of the hypnotic suggestions, a low level itch implanted just below the knee. It was a reflex action for her to scratch—her brightly pained red nails finally laddering her tights before the impulse was suppressed. From the compliant pattern of her behaviour the Slob knew that he had found a perfect subject. Conditions on the train were ideal for impressing his message. Heat, rhythmic motion and sleepiness had all combined to induce a suspension of higher mental activity and the blonde was obviously naturally susceptible. It had taken less than a minute to successfully induce an initial response. Now he must make the most of the circumstances to convey his remaining important instructions. The Slob flicked another switch on his machine and initiated a second phase. Kirsty’s programming had begun...

Clickerty, clack, clickerty clack, clickerty clack. Under the intermittent pneumatic hiss of brakes and the higher frequency static of her tape Kirsty slipped into a deeper and deeper trance. She was dreaming now; dreaming of a long slow bath. The sunshine warmed her like hot water, floating her away from the world to a secret place where her lover was waiting. She smiled unconsciously, thinking of his hands on her shoulders, gripping her tightly before moving slowly over her body. It was just as it should be. She was there to please him; there to provide pleasure for his needs. Soon he would use her—would take her and satisfy himself with her. It was what she wanted. She wanted to be useful. She knew that she must never disappoint him. He was stroking her now and she could feel herself getting hotter and stickier—a pleasing moist excitement was building between her legs. She stirred slightly as though some subdued part of her mind was rebelling against the gathering flood of her emotions. But any awareness of place or time had faded under the onslaught from the Walkman. Instead she knew that she had to listen carefully. She had to listen for two words. Listen for a man to speak the words. The man who spoke the words would tell her what to do. He would tell her what she must do. It would be very wrong to resist him. Very wrong. Her lover insisted that she obey the man, and what her lover wanted was what she must do...

Kirsty felt a firm pressure on her shoulder again and the headphones slipped from her ears. With a momentary flash of confusion the little blonde shook her head and blinked sharply, waking up with a head full of disturbing images. The first thing she noticed was that the seat opposite was empty. The Slob had gone. The second thing she noticed was that he was now sitting in the seat beside her and his strong left arm was round her shoulder! She began to tremble in shock but before she could open her mouth to scream he was bending his face to her ear, planting a slobbery wet kiss on her cheek and whispering,

“You’re mine now, sugar pie! All mine!”

At a level far below the centres of independent thought, Kirsty recognised the words of command. Sugar pie. There was nothing she could do to resist the man who spoke them. She had to obey him now. There was no choice.

“Kiss me, sugar pie”, he said. “Kiss me like you mean it!”

The reluctant blonde turned slowly towards him. She was still trembling in his arms unable to understand what was happening to her. Consciously she hated this disgusting man but her instincts had been overridden and although she was still engaged in a silent struggle against his authority it was a losing battle.

Now the Slob could study his victim’s face in more detail. She was pretty with a pale complexion, wavy shoulder length hair, a neat little nose and a small mouth. The Slob enjoyed the hint of fear in the girl’s wide blue eyes which stared back at him like a rabbit caught in car headlights. He detected the first sign of tears but ignored them, bending forward hungrily to kiss her full on the mouth. Kirsty felt physically sick at the stench of tobacco and alcohol on her assailant’s breath but when he instructed her to bend her head and kiss him properly she did as she was told. The Slob pushed his tongue inside the young woman’s mouth to savour the sweetness of her muted gasp of protest. She was delicious! His left arm had now taken a firm hold and his hand reached up to grope her breast, applying a little light pressure in a preliminary assessment of the captive flesh. He wasn’t disappointed. Kirsty’s mammary glands were softly yielding but firm enough when squeezed—a tasty morsel for anyone who claimed them. He let his arm drop down and found the thin metal line of a zip fastener on the hip of her skirt. Teasing it open just a fraction he loosened the waist so that he could insinuate his fingers underneath. He kissed her again, easing his fingers beneath the elastic of her tights and panties and rubbing his thumb into her sex. Kirsty let out a frantic little moan of protest and tried to cross her legs to prevent any further violation.

“Legs down!", the Slob instructed her sternly with a harsh whisper in her ear. “I want to see what my sugar pie is made of!”

An elderly couple on the opposite row of the carriage eyed Kirsty and the Slob with disapproval and to her shame Kirsty felt herself blushing as though she were the one to have transgressed against public standards of decency! Worst of all, she felt her body responding against her will. The crude fingering was arousing her and she began to squirm uncomfortably in her seat. How could this foul man have done this to her?

“Come on darling, zip yourself up. This is our station.”

The Slob had taken control now and Kirsty found herself swept up and off the train before she had any opportunity to prevent it. And of course this wasn’t her station at all; it was a seedy East London suburb and the abode of The Slob. Once he had her on the platform he indulged himself with another kiss as the train pulled away. The wench was as good as his! It was time to take her home.

The Slob hurried Kirsty out of the station, almost dragging her behind him so that she stumbled more than once, tottering in her high heels as she struggled to keep up with him. In truth, despite the spectacular success of his experiment the Slob wasn’t sure how long the conditioning would last. Only five minutes had elapsed since the young woman had removed the headphones. He suspected that she might soon begin to recover from the initial hypnotic assault and her individuality would reassert itself. Before that could happen he needed to get her somewhere where he could reinforce his domination.

The streets outside the station were ugly, dirty and intimidating in their own right. A row of old terraced housing was occupied by a few poor tenants but many of the windows were boarded up in an attempt to prevent squatters from colonising the vacant properties. It was obvious that this had not entirely succeeded. The houses abutted smoke stained factory walls and an oily garage forecourt which promised “MOTs while-u-wait” but the faded sign looked as if it had been painted before the war. Round the corner a short space of withered brown grass framed three nineteen sixties tower blocks which looked more like sheds for some sort of human battery farm than decent modern homes. They loomed over the neighbourhood casting shadows which were somehow threatening even in the summer heat. A gang of tough looking kids with bikes and skateboards were kicking a football against a graffiti covered concrete wall in a half hearted way. Their game seemed to be more of an excuse for fighting and swearing than anything else. Dogs had fouled the pavements and the grass and a burnt out car with a “Police Aware” sticker was rusting on the road. It was the sort of neighbourhood which Kirsty would never have visited before today.

The Slob hustled his catch part the kids who stopped to stare at them with aggressive unfocussed adolescent anger. They entered the lobby of the nearest tower block where the stink of old urine wafted from the stairwells. The lift wasn’t working so Kirsty was frog marched up five flights of concrete steps before they reached an apartment where she was unceremoniously shoved inside.

The place was a tip. Clothes were strewn all over the furniture including soiled underwear and an assortment of smelly socks. The aroma of stale cigarette smoke lingered over everything—there was ash on the carpet and the furniture was marked with multiple burns. Dirty plates on all the free surfaces were mute evidence that no one had washed up in quite a while. A harsh barking greeted their arrival and a large black Doberman bounded into the room.

“Down Mauler, down boy!", the Slob said gesturing sharply at the snarling animal. He noticed with some interest how Kirsty quailed in front of the beast, ‘almost’, he thought, ‘as if she’s more scared of Mauler than me’. In this state Kirsty wasn’t really capable of rational thought but her primitive fear response was still working below the level of his control.

In the kitchen the Slob filled a glass of water and took a tablet from a brown bottle by the side of the sink. When dropped into the glass, the white powdery pill dissolved within thirty seconds. He returned to Kirsty and gave her the glass.

“Drink this”

It wasn’t a request it was an order. The Slob knew the importance of simple commands with no room for interpretation. His authority worked best when exercised in the most straightforward way. She hesitated for a moment but then drank the water in five or six anxious little gulps.

“Good girl”, he crooned feeling the beginning of an erection at this new evidence of his growing power over the pretty blonde. Swallowing that water had been an extremely serious error on the part of his prey. With the drug in her system the silly bitch would be so much easier to condition.

“Now sit down”, he said, clearing away a bundle of newspapers and envelopes from an old leather arm chair. But he had miscalculated the level of Kirsty’s submission by a tiny fraction. When he wasn’t facing her directly she was just starting to find a way to muster her own thoughts. It had started when he was in the kitchen but a certain residual numbness prevented her from acting and when he’d returned she’d relapsed for a crucial few seconds. Now though, something told her that this was her last chance to break free.

“No! I won’t! I won’t!", she squeaked as she turned away and ran for the door. With a heartfelt curse the Slob followed, his heart pounding in his overweight body. If the bitch got away he’d be in real trouble! She was already on the stairs! The click of her heels on the concrete was accompanied by a little sobbing gasp for breath as she did her best to put distance between them. Her escape attempt might well have worked if it were not for a cruel piece of luck. On the first landing her heel caught in a piece if iron grating which had fallen from a vandalised air vent and she went sprawling. Before she’d caught her breath, she felt the Slob’s arms grab her brutally round the waist and she was hauled to her feet. She managed a single scream and then he turned her round and delivered a stinging slap across the face which shocked her into silence. Sobbing more loudly now, the captive was easily reclaimed and marched back to the apartment. With a quick push she was put in place in the chair and this time he took no chances, jamming the headphones over her ears and holding her down by the pressure of his arms on her shoulders. She kicked out and tried to punch him but it was like trying to fight a mountain of lard. Nothing she did seemed to have any effect and she was getting so tired, so very very tired... It was easier just to stop now—to relax like the voice in her head was saying. Her hands dropped to her side and she closed her eyes.

The Slob breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the combined effect of the drug and the tape take hold, visibly smoothing Kirsty’s features and overcoming the last vestiges of resistance. In a rather perverse way her escape attempt had actually speeded the softening up process as her burst of adrenaline had helped to pump his drug more quickly through the bloodstream. Now he just had to wait. The cumulative effect of chemical and auditory inputs were doing their job very nicely but they needed time to work. This was to be a much more thorough process of reprogramming than the relatively light snare which was all that he had been able to manage on the train. This time he didn’t have to work through electronic interference and rely on fortunate and uncontrollable environmental factors. Now he could pump his messages directly into his victim’s mind, which was not to say that subtlety was no longer required but the foundations of a more permanent architecture of control could now be laid.

The Slob ran his hand up Kirsty’s leg, savouring the feel of her flesh beneath the nylon of her tights. She was going to be such a good fuck! He could take her now if he wanted but patience was called for. Everything would be so much better when she had been exposed to the full length of the tape.

“Good things come to those who wait”, the Slob told himself, enjoying the anticipation of a gourmet chef waiting for a delicious recipe to come to the boil. In the mean time there was work to be done. He returned to the landing to retrieve the shoe which had been left behind in the struggle; there was no point in leaving any evidence of the abduction lying around, however tenuous the link. Back in the apartment Kirsty continued to breath slowly as the tape told her what to think. The Slob took her handbag and emptied the contents on the table—keys, credit cards, cosmetics and some loose change. He took a notebook from the kitchen and began to write down all the details, building up a picture of his victim’s life. All this would be confirmation of the facts he would extract from her later. Then he poured himself a drink and switched on the TV. Kirsty needed another hour or so to cook before she was ready for interrogation.

The darts match came to an end and the Slob switched the TV off. It was time to ask some questions of his pretty blonde prisoner. He began by removing the headphones, pleased to see that when Kirsty opened her eyes they were glazed and unfocussed. The Slob decided that it would be more fun to conduct this session with the girl naked and in any case he wanted to see some more of his new acquisition.

“Stand up”, he said, pleased with her instant obedience.

“Now strip”, he said. “I want all your clothes off. And hurry up about it I haven’t got all day!” His feigned impatience soon had the anxious young woman fumbling with the buttons of her blouse like a naughty schoolgirl who has just been told off for not changing quickly enough before a sports lesson. The Slob was highly amused. The beauty of this technique was that a part of the subject remained aware of the reality of the situation but was completely powerless to resist. Blouse, skirt, stockings, bra and panties were quickly removed and dropped into a black plastic sack which he held out for her.

‘Very nice’, the Slob thought as he admired Kirsty’s body. Her breasts were every bit as delightful as he had imagined, topped by pretty pink nipples in wide pale pearl aureoles. Her belly was smooth and taut and her sex, covered by a fine down of strawberry blonde hair was pleasingly plump and enticing. She was trying to cover her body with her hands but it was quite hopeless and she gave up completely when he ordered her to sit down and rest her arms on the side of the chair.

“I have a few questions for you”, the Slob said. “You must answer me truthfully and you must not try to hide anything from me.

He pressed the record button on a second cassette machine so that he would have a permanent record of the interview.

“What is your name?” He knew the answer to this one already as he had read her driving licence but it was just a warm up question. She replied instantly.

“Very good Kirsty. Now your address.” Once again the answer rolled off the girl’s tongue and agreed with details he had found on an old letter. So far so good. The next few questions were also routine, eliciting some background information which would prove useful later. He determined where she worked, who she worked with, the names of her friends and the name of her boyfriend. He had half hoped that she would be unattached but was not at all surprised that a girl like this had a steady relationship. That would have to change...

After a while he began to ask some more intimate questions. How often did she have sex? When was her last orgasm? Did she deliver oral sex to her boyfriend? What about anal sex?

The questions obviously embarrassed the girl and she began to blush but she answered them all eventually and the Slob was happy that she was telling the truth.

“Who am I?", he asked at last, aware of her total ignorance of his name but interested in her answer now that she had reached this state of consciousness.

“You are the Slob”, she said without hesitation. She had no guile or sense of social form and so she just came right out with the name that had first occurred to her. If he had thought that this was a deliberate insult or a suggestion of defiance her interrogator might have been annoyed, but even though she was his first subject he understood enough of the process Kirsty was undergoing to recognise the true nature of her reply and instead he was amused.

“That’s right”, he confirmed with a grim smile, deciding to go along with the name. “I am the Slob. You will address me as Sir from now on. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir”, she said. Her voice was soft and subdued.

“Now who are you?”

“Kirsty Sim...",

“No, you are not.”

He cut her off before she could complete her reply, his voice firm and uncompromising.

“You are my fuck toy. You’re going to do what I tell you from now on. And I shall be using that pretty little body of yours to satisfy my appetites. Do you understand me?”

The unmitigated cruelty of these brutal words seemed to shock the little blonde more that anything he had said before and for a crucial few seconds as he watched her struggling expression the Slob wondered if her had gone too far. Then she bowed her head in surrender and he knew he had really won.

The serious business was over. Now it was time to enjoy his prize. He led the pretty office worker into his bedroom and ordered her to lie face up on the bed and to spread her legs.

He took his time undressing, revealing a blubbery mass of badly kept flesh as he peeled off his top and unfastened his trousers. Kirsty’s expression was a picture—a picture of loathing, apprehension, fear and resignation. But the Slob didn’t mind that; in fact her revulsion excited him. He came over to her at last and sat on the edge of the bed causing the springs to creak in protest. The little blonde shivered as he ran his fat hands over her naked body, squeezing her breasts with speculative amusement and pinching the nipples. One hand continued to maul the softly yielding cushion of her left mammary as the other stroked her flat belly and probed between her legs.

“You’ll soon be ready for mounting!", he mocked as his fingers teased her sex. “I want my little sugar pie wet and eager before I’ll ride her.”

Kirsty swallowed with the effort of fighting a useless battle. There was absolutely no way this pitiful parody of foreplay could be stimulating her and yet it was! “Sugar pie” was some kind of key trigger and it had completely bypassed the centres of her conscious control. Without volition she was becoming helplessly aroused. She groaned softy and pressed her bottom harder into the mattress in a futile effort to resist.

“You’re just a damp little tramp aren’t you?", the Slob grinned. She was ready now. He straddled her and pushed his still stiffening rod deep inside with one easy thrust.

“Nice and tight!", he grunted. He looked in the mirror to savour the view of his own gross mountain of flesh so obviously in command of the sweetly supple body pinned below it. Naked and struggling, Kirsty was a marvellous sight and he lifted himself slightly just to ram into her again.

“You’re one hot bitch!", he said, fucking her harder now and relishing the sensation.

She surrendered to him utterly, her disgust and horror overcome at the last by his cunning manipulation and the brutal assault on her body. Her hips jerked in a spasm of release and she gave a tight little gasp of orgasm. At the same moment The Slob grunted in satisfaction and spent himself inside her. Thick streams of his sticky white fluid fountained inside the warm tunnel of her flesh. He breathed deeply, savouring for a long minute the shuddering collapse of the helpless blonde crushed beneath him. But Kirsty had an important lesson to learn and she needed to learn it now. When teaching a pet the proper limits of behaviour the punishment must immediately follow the crime to ensure that a correct understanding is attained. ‘Just so’, thought the Slob as he dismounted, turned an exhausted Kirsty over his lap and without warning or explanation began to spank her bare bottom. She squealed and tried to kick but he was remorseless and strong. Soon the blonde’s buttocks were flushed with a bright pink rash of pain and she was reduced to sobbing and squirming feebly against him.

“Let that be a lesson to you”, he said at last. “In future you will only climax when I give you permission”

He pushed her away so that she fell to the floor.

“Get up you stupid little slut! You’ve got to clean yourself up before you can go.”

Kirsty began to sob quietly, but when the Slob delivered a sharp little kick to the ribs she struggled to her feet and followed him into the bath room. He ran a cold bath and ordered her in, supervising whilst she ran a sponge over her shivering body. In fifteen minutes Kirsty was dry and dressed again but before she could be allowed to go he sat her down under the headphones again for a final ten minute session. There were some important instructions which had to be delivered....

The Slob watched Kirsty walking back to the station from his upstairs window, her heels clicking on the pavement like the hooves of a nervous gazelle. She still looked delicious in her smart stockings, skirt and blouse and only the Slob knew that he’d taken her panties as a minor trophy. Already the young woman was beginning to forget her experiences in the flat, suppressing the memories he had told her to lock away; and there were other significant alterations inside her head. By the time she got home she would only ‘remember’ a long breakdown on the train.

The Slob smiled. Kirsty was perfect—just perfect. And he had only begun to work with her...