The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Time passed in Tallin.

Mister Talv began to take me out in the city, and, continuing my training in pursuit of excellence, he often delighted in surreptitiously whispering his words and watching me squirm in my seat in restaurants, at the ballet, anywhere he could think of, reinforcing, always. A random, delicious, wave-like pulse, and then another, and another.

Ärkama.

“Are you all right, Katya?” he’d joke, knowing full well what was going on. He liked to watch me trying to control myself.

Ärkama.

“You see? Now you are truly awake.”

I’d look at him, filled with distracting and urgent needs, and wonder how far this would go. It was an automatic response, inaccessible to my conscious mind.

“Exactly,” he’d say, unperturbed at my concerns. “Automatic. Strong associations, repeated over time, fully imprinted now. My voice activated girl.”

I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about that, but oh God the rest of it felt good.

“You’ve learned a lot of words, now, Katya. We’ll practice them soon.”

Next day he took my hand and led me through the Secret Garden. I stopped by Blodeuwedd’s perch, preparing myself as usual, but instead he led through me through the foliage to yet another door, hidden behind trees.

“Let’s go through the looking glass, now,” he said, guiding me through the door and down the stairs.

As he opened the door to the level below, at first I couldn’t quite understand what I was seeing, because I was looking at myself, and then another self, and then another, all at different angles. “Go in,” said Mister Talv, “take a step forward.”

As I stepped into what I assumed was another version of the apartment, the angles and reflections seemed to shift and change around me. Katyas, Katyas, everywhere. I turned back to Mister Talv. “Go on,” he said, chivvying me forward. “Explore. I’ve got a few things to do.” And he turned to go.

I walked forward tentatively, into the mirrors, and my reflections twisted and moved disorientatingly. I heard his footsteps padding back up the stairs. As I stepped forward into the room, my reflections glittered, a chaotic host of me, mimicking, mocking myself. I paused. It was a maze. Very carefully, I started to edge my way around, exploring. Reflections of reflections of reflections all round.

I felt the mirrored surfaces, navigating by touch, edging sideways with my back to the walls, feeling for the openings.

Two more steps and suddenly suddenly, perspective widened. All my reflections receded into the distance, a flock of Katyas scattering into the glass, and I realised I was in some kind of clearing in the forest of mirrors. An expanse of floor, at last. I looked down and there was a sudden sense of vertigo, as of standing over a bottomless pit, and I very quickly looked up, and when I looked around again I knew I was completely lost.

Slowly, carefully, I walked towards the centre of the room, seeking the route out. There was something there, in the middle of the area, but it was hard to make out. More mirrors? An optical illusion of some kind? It was impossible to focus on it, with reflections and reflections of reflections everywhere, moving and morphing with every move I made. Very tentatively, another step, and there seemed to be a gap in the mirage of structure, albeit hard to discern. Another step, and another, and then I was dead centre in the area. I stood, and turned slowly. Reflections and mirages swirled around me.

And then, although I saw nothing, the distinct clang of a door swinging shut behind me. Something came briefly into focus and then vanished; the practically invisible bars shimmered like a mirage.

I was a wild and beautiful and exotic creature, he said, perhaps one that only existed in this mirrorworld, and he had captured me, and I needed to be tamed, and then kept here for my own good, he said, when I was not locked into Blodeuwedd’s Perch, of course.

The area within the mirrorworld which held the almost invisible cage offered only a myriad views of me, but that was a lot to look at. The mirrored room, reflections of reflections in infinite regress, fascinated me. I knew there was no point shouting, all the way down here—he wouldn’t hear. And he would not let me out until he wanted to. Sometimes he kept me there for hours, and hundreds of Katyas writhed and danced in the mirrors, identity fracturing like a kaleidoscope.

It was in the mirrorworld that he finally, truly, tamed me.

Just words.

Time passed in unknown quantities, and at indeterminate rates, in the mirrorworld, and things could happen without warning. I was suddenly conscious that Mister Talv had entered the room and was looking at me through the bars. Reflexively, I straightened my back and got myself into Best Display Position. A hundred reflected Katyas did the same, pert breasts everywhere.

“Katya,” he said. My body tensed slightly, a conditioned response now. “I wonder how tamed you are.” His voice, deep and perfectly accentless. He unlocked the mirrored cage. “I want to be clear. You know you can leave here any time you want to, don’t you?”

I stepped out of the cage and stood in front of him. I nodded. I did not want to leave.

Ärkama.

And then another word.

I scrambled to get into position, to kneel for him. Wrists together, behind my back, ankles together, and for some irresistible reason my body knew I needed to be quick. I was definitely getting quicker. My body knew this was right and that it would be rewarded for its obedience. Savouring the thought of reward, pleased for him and myself.

Another word.

I straightened my back, raised my hands, and begged like a dog. I did not question why. The word was all that mattered. Pleasure and punishment and whatever other means he employed meant I had learned many words well, by now, and at another word I automatically lay back, arms stretched behind my head, raised my knees, and spread my legs wide to receive him.

With each word I edged closer to orgasm.

Another word.

I smoothly rolled into position, on all fours, and felt the pleasure as I got it exactly right, as always. My mouth opened, ready, in automatic response, salivating. In this mode, he always made me wait—to become more and more desperate until I felt I could stand it no longer. I didn’t know why. Perhaps it had something to do with respect.

There were many others. Just words.

“Excellent. Truly excellent, Katya. I think you’re ready.”

I throbbed with readiness.