The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The afternoon sun slants through the third floor bedroom window of Lonemoor Manor where Lady Patricia Hardcrop sits before her dressing table mirror with a comb in one hand and a mobile phone in the other. The beautiful aristocrat is only half dressed. She is gossiping to her friend Lavinia Tremming whilst she completes a lazy morning’s preparations for breakfast. Lady Hardcrop leans back on her stool and stretches one elegant stocking clad leg with careless disregard for the soft pressure that meets her foot where it pushes against the most delicate skin of another woman’s vulnerable body. There is a low anguished whimper from the floor that makes the aristocrat chuckle. Suzanne crouches below the dressing table like a living footstool, completely naked and with her face pressed to Lady Hardcrop’s leg. The older woman’s toes are now invading the blonde’s sweetly swollen snatch and the aristocrat wriggles them luxuriously inside their living slipper of hot and moist girl flesh. Suzanne gasps. Although Lady Hardcrop’s stockings are of the finest nylon mesh, the material seems to rasp like sandpaper over Suzanne’s acutely sensitive skin and when the aristocrat’s painted toenail scratches sharply over the swollen nubbin of her clitoris she feels a shock of frustration shoot through her body, but the luckless blonde dare not climax.

“You must come round and see her”, Patricia is saying. “She’s quite a shameless little trollop but she’ll serve our purpose, I’m sure.”

Now that she has found the heart of Suzanne’s sex, Lady Hardcrop sets about it with malicious energy, waggling her big toe up and down so that the long nail repeatedly scrapes an agonising line of pleasure over the tiny fleshy bud that is Suzanne’s clitoris, strumming it up and down and applying the most exquisite pressure. This is too much for the girl. Suzanne knows that it is wrong for her to have an orgasm without permission from Lord or Lady Hardcrop. She has been told so, over and over again. But under this provocation she cannot help herself. She succumbs and comes with a pitiful little squeak and a strangled moan of surrender to her body’s base needs. Her loins quake with release. She feels like a naughty child who’s wet her panties—humiliated, desperate and about to cry.

“Bad girl!” Lady Hardcrop chastises the blonde. She withdraws her foot and inspects it. “Lick my toes clean”, she orders, presenting her foot for a softly sobbing Suzanne to apply her tongue to it. The lovely blonde slave does as she’s told, kissing the sheer nylon and tasting the shameful juices of her own prohibited spending. Perversely she still feels aroused. She would like to rub her hands between her legs but it is not allowed.

Later she is draped over her mistress’s knee for punishment. Lady Hardcrop traces the lines of Suzanne’s tattoo...

“Property of the Slob. If found, please spank this arse and return it to its rightful owner.”

The blonde’s bottom is beaten soundly with a hard wooden hairbrush in accordance with the instructions. Suzanne wants to cry but bites her lip. If she tries harder maybe Lady Hardcrop won’t be so cruel in future. ‘At least I’ve escaped from the Slob,’ she thinks.

Lord Hardcrop has a bath every morning at 8 o’clock and Suzanne has the job of attending to him. She is dressed in shiny black high heels and sheer black stockings and suspenders. She runs the bath punctually and waits with a set of crisp white towels as her master climbs into the warm water. Sir Jeremy enjoys the sight of an efficient and apprehensive young maid waiting to do his bidding, her bare breasts prominently displayed in the steaming heat of the bathroom. She passes him the soap when instructed and she helps him to wash his limbs. When he gets out of the bath she dries him off. It’s like a refined version of the use the Slob used to make of her in the shower. It’s still demeaning of course. Sir Jeremy treats her with an indifference bordering on contempt but he is rarely actively cruel to her. ‘At least I’ve escaped from the Slob,’ she thinks.

Before lunch it is time for Suzanne’s daily mounting. Mrs Miggins, the housekeeper leads her into the bedroom. She is tied to the bedposts, each limb secured with a tight leather cuff. Then a plump pillow is placed under her bottom, offering her loins up for his lordship’s pleasure. Sometimes she has to wait for half an hour or more before he enters the room. It always begins in the same way. He undresses then sits beside her letting his fingers probe and poke at her mound which is now kept smoothly shaven by the housekeeper. He tests her to assess the level of her arousal and to prepare her for penetration. Once her nipples are erect and her sex hot and moist her straddles her. Usually he reaches for a roll of duct tape and gags her at this point. Suzanne hates that but the aristocrat has told her that her moans irritate him and if she can’t keep quiet whilst he’s servicing her he’ll have to take measures to ensure she’s silenced. In truth, apart from the unpleasantness of the gag, Suzanne rather looks forward to the fucking over which Sir Jeremy gives her. He seems almost handsome compared to the Slob and he arouses her easily. She does her best to accommodate him, thrusting her hips up to meet his downward lunges and wriggling in a delightful way as he rides her. Sir Jeremy always enjoys the tight little convulsions of her sex around his rod and never fails to dose his blonde breeding mare with a good measure of sticky sperm. She is now so well trained that she often orgasms at the same time that he does. Pregnancy seems inevitable and what will that mean? ‘At least I’ve escaped from the Slob,’ she thinks.

Lavinia Tremming comes to visit her old school friend Patricia Hardcrop. When they were at a certain exclusive ladies college on the South Downs they were known as the terrible twosome. Lavinia was the sporty type—broad features and well muscled thighs. She was a prefect in the sixth form and so was Patricia. Between them they terrorised some of the younger pupils. Rumour had it that there were funny goings on between the sheets after lights out and the rumours were true. But the school managed to avoid a scandal though the headmistress was relieved when they left.

Now Lavinia has developed into a rather butch and domineering lesbian but a frustrated one without a regular partner. Patricia still thinks of her old friend fondly and occasionally they meet and reminisce. Today they exchange an intimate kiss before Suzanne is introduced. Lavinia watches wide eyed as she sees the way that Patricia runs her hand casually over Suzanne’s bare breasts and pinches the pretty blonde’s nipples. In her wildest dreams she has never imagined having such power over a lovely young woman. “She does exactly as I tell her”, Patricia explains. “If she displeases me or my husband she is beaten. She’s quite an exciting little piece in bed. Shall we take her for a ride?”

So they do. Suzanne is led to the bed chamber where Lavinia fits a strap on and straddles her. Patricia squats over her face and orders her to use her tongue. The school friends kiss as Suzanne wriggles beneath them providing them both with the most delicious stimulation. After they have both orgasmed they subside into some more prolonged games, teasing their poor victim by bringing her to the brink of climax without permitting her to enjoy its release. Poor Suzanne has to kiss their feet and lick their bottoms. She is degraded in a wide variety of ways which reinforce her role as rented flesh. It makes her burn with shame despite everything she has experienced. There is only one consolation. ‘At least I’ve escaped from the Slob,’ she thinks.

The inevitable has happened. Suzanne is pregnant and carries Sir Jeremy Hardcrop’s child in her belly. The Hardcrop’s move her into the stables where she is chained up at night. She sleeps on a small straw pallet and urinates and defecates into a metal bucket. She’s fed in the morning by the stable boys—bran mash and apples like the horses with vitamin supplements for the baby. The doctor visits her once a week and Sir Jeremy comes round in the evening to run his hand over her swelling belly. In the early days he buggers her then makes her suck his cock clean but as the pregnancy progresses he usually contents himself with the pleasure of oral sex, spunking down her throat with a grunt of satisfaction and ensuring that she swallows every drop of his seed. Often he taunts her with cruel words.

“If matters had turned out differently you might have been a free woman”, he says. “You might be married to some dope of a husband and fancy yourself in love and you might be bearing your own child instead of my heir. What a waste that would have been eh? Without disciple and training that pretty body of yours would have been quite useless to me. Now suck harder you stupid little slut!”

She often feels sick as she services the aristocrat like this but she does as she’s told. And much as she hates the regime soon she will have a baby and then she will be restored to the house. She hopes the Hardcrops will let her see her child and care for it. Despite everything they’ve done to her she still fails to appreciate quite how ruthless they are. It’s a side effect of the drugs—they dull her wits as well as suppressing any resistance. ‘At least I’ve escaped from the Slob,’ she thinks.

Often Suzanne wonders how Kirsty is managing. It must be dreadful for the hapless young woman under the dominion of the Slob and without even the comfort of her friend. She shivers at the thought. Sir Jeremy and his wife may treat her with contempt but there is still something worse about the Slob—something inherently nastier. The very thought of him makes her catch her breath. Poor Kirsty!

Eventually the baby is ready to be born. The doctor is an old friend of Sir Jeremy and he knows how to be discrete in social as well as medical matters. His nurse is a sober matron in a starched blue uniform, professional and quiet. She helps Suzanne onto a scrubbed table and then the process begins. It proves to be a long and painful experience for the mother. From time to time when Patricia looks in on the progress of the labour she winces as she witnesses Suzanne’s violent contractions and her rhythmic pelvic thrusts. “Push harder”, she says, squeezing the younger woman’s hand.

She smiles grimly and runs a speculative hand lightly over the young woman’s swollen belly. It really has been an excellent plan to use this blonde breeder to produce a child for her. It has been a great benefit to avoid the pain of the birth and the social inconvenience of the pregnancy. Patricia feels no remorse about the use she has made of the luckless slave, only a certain distant aristocratic distain. This is the way things should be. The lower classes exit to serve the aristocracy. It’s only right.

“May I have a private word?", the doctor asks his employer’s wife and away from the table where the blonde strains to give birth he whispers to the aristocrat.

“You know we could administer some pain killers for her. It might be best.”

“Is there any danger to the baby?”

“Well, not yet. Not as such”

“If the baby’s life is in danger you must do what it takes to save it. The baby is the priority. It doesn’t matter about the mother.”

The doctor shrugs. He’s had to take difficult medical decisions before and he hopes this won’t come to one. But if it does, he knows the priority. Fortunately the early problems seem to resolve themselves without his intervention and the labour continues to its happy conclusion in a relatively routine fashion. Suzanne sobs in relief as the umbilical cord is cut

The nurse takes the baby and holds it up to the light. It cries out loud—a healthy son and heir for Sir Jeremy’s estate! Both aristocrats are delighted. The Hardcrops take him away from his natural mother immediately so that he doesn’t form any sort of attachment to Suzanne and begins instead to bond with Patricia. From now on, she is the only mother he will know.

A week after the birth, Lady Hardcrop holds a little soirée for some of her close friends to introduce them to her son. She proudly cradles the baby, overlooked by her smiling husband whilst her guests make suitable complements and congratulations. Suzanne serves drinks for them all, dressed in her French maid’s outfit with sheer black stockings and suspenders. She has to fight hard not to cry at the unfairness of it all. This attention should be devoted to her! But the only attention she gets is an unexpectedly fierce little pinch on the bottom from Lavinia Tremming which makes her squeak with surprise and nearly drop her tray of drinks. The brutish lesbian gives Suzanne an evil grin, which is not at all sympathetic. Sir Jeremy smiles as he sees Suzanne’s flustered look of confusion, shame and humiliation. He’s pleased to see her looking so sexy again so soon after the birth.

“Come here”, he says. He bends and whispers in her ear. “Never mind my lovely little trollop. As soon as this is over, I’ll take you upstairs and give you a good hard ride again!”

So later that same evening, when Lady Hardcrop has taken her son out to visit her mother, Sir Jeremy has his wicked way with Suzanne once again. It’s been a little while since he’s been able to enjoy himself so thoroughly with the slave girl for fear of harming his baby, but tonight no holds are barred and he makes good use of her sweetly surrendered body. Afterwards he strokes her flanks idly, enjoying the soft warmth of her flesh pressed against his own. She struggles to speak and although he normally dislikes this and forbids her from talking when he has his pleasures with her, this time he is in a good humour and lets her continue.

“P...please sir”, she begins hesitantly.

“Yes trollop”, he says, giving her permission to continue as he squeezes her left breast a little more firmly.

“W... will you keep me now that the baby is born? I mean”, she swallows nervously obviously apprehensive about what she has to say. After all, speaking directly to Lord Hardcrop isn’t something she does everyday! Then she seems to find her courage and continues in a rush.

“I mean you’ll need someone to look after the baby for you, won’t you?”

“Go on”, he says, amused by this pleading.

“And I can be useful to you in other ways”, she says almost coquettishly.

“Like how?”

“Like I’ve just demonstrated”, she says.

“Ahhh... Well, I’ll tell you what bitch”, he says. “Why don’t you demonstrate that to me again? Stop chattering and put that mouth of yours to better use eh? Show me that you’re worth a man keeping you on!”

So she does and it is an experience which the aristocrat enjoys enormously. He’s had oral sex with her before, of course, on many occasions, but it has never been better than this time. Suzanne is really desperately anxious to please him and she is trying so hard! She uses her lips and tongue with every effort and employs all the skills she has learned, worshiping his prick, delicately licking the sensitive skin and planting delightful kisses on his scrotum. The knowledge that his organ has so recently been violating her bottom revolts her, but she fights this natural disgust and overcomes it.

All the time that she is working Suzanne is thinking, ‘please don’t send me back to the Slob!’ It’s not as if life at Lonemoor Manor is exactly a bed of roses. Far from it! But she’s almost learned to tolerate her master’s abuses here. Lady Hardcrop still frightens her but if she works hard and tries her best to please her master and mistress she can sometimes avoid the most painful punishments. The aristocrats seldom show the capricious and imaginative cruelty of the Slob. And she wants to be near her baby too. Even if the world thinks it belongs to Patricia Hardcrop she knows it belongs to her! ‘Please, please don’t send me back!’, she thinks, but she says nothing and concentrates hard on licking and sucking.

Sir Jeremy finally climaxes down the blonde’s throat with a sigh of great satisfaction, lying back to contemplate as she swallows frantically.

“Splendid”, he says. It’s the first complement he’s offered in a long time. “You know”, he continues in reflective mood, his hand once again absently fondling her breast, “I would like to keep you. I’d like too, but I’m afraid I can’t. Patricia wouldn’t allow it I’m afraid. Not part of the plan. You see we had a deal. You were brought here to give us a child and that’s all. She wouldn’t like it if I kept you on for other sexual services, as pleasant as those would be.”

“B.. but the baby. My baby!", she wails.

That’s a dreadful mistake, which she realises as soon as the words are out of her mouth. It’s not her baby. The aristocrats have always been very firm on that point. Sir Jeremy purses his lips in a line of anger and resolution.

“Over my lap now, young lady!", he orders. Suzanne quails, her momentary and oh so minor rebellion instantly crushed by his direct command. She lies across his lap whilst he spanks her for her insolence and presumption. It is a hard spanking and it makes her cry softly—and not just from the physical pain.

Another week passes. Suzanne continues in the role of maid, dusting and cleaning round the house under Mrs Miggins disapproving eye. She’s kept to a strict regime and her workload is hard and demanding. It’s a measure of how completely she accepts her role that she now understands that some punishment is inevitable and proper but she’s upset that the punishments she receives seem harder and more frequent than she feels she deserves. She knows this is to chastise her for speaking out of turn. That distresses her but there is nothing she can do about it.

Sir Jeremy doesn’t use her again. She’s been relegated from bed toy to simple maid. In the evenings she sometimes slips her fingers into her sex and allows herself to fantasise he will take her again. Or even, she is disturbed to realise, to hope that Patricia will fit a strap on dildo and use her. At least at Lonemoor manor she sometimes has the opportunity to masturbate free of the Slob’s devilish plastic panties. Even so, masturbation is still a punishable offence if she is caught and she has to be careful. She seldom gets even a glimpse of the baby. Still, as the days pass Suzanne allows herself to hope that her owners might change their mind. It’s not something she can control. This hope just rises of its own accord when she least expects it.

One day she is bending over the table in the hallway when a visitor arrives. She is under instructions not to look up from her work when the master and mistress have guests so she doesn’t see him as he walks up behind her, breathing heavily. It is only when fat pudgy hands reach from behind her head to close about her tender breasts that she realises the man has trapped her. The hands squeeze her bosom with a cunning cruelty that brings forth a weeping drop of milk from the lactating glands. Suzanne feels hot breath in her ear and a growing sense of horror. Before he speaks she knows who it is. Her stomach lurches in fear and dread. Her worst nightmare has come true!

“Nice to see you again Suzanne”, the Slob says. “It’s time for you to come home!”