The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Sitting in the back of the big car, engrossed in reading reports, Beren didn’t notice the long pause at an intersection as a large vehicle stopped in front, nor did she notice the second large vehicle closing in behind. She also hadn’t seen the strange jeweled circlets both her bodyguard and driver (seated in front with their backs to her) were wearing on their heads today.

She had come to meet with key people in one of her humanitarian efforts, something which would normally have had her energized. But the past few months, with the passing of her estranged mother and with her being thrust to the head of an international empire—the scope and nature of which she hadn’t been able to unlock—weighed heavily on her mind. This city, Stockholm, was among her very favorite places in the world, but now it passed by outside the car windows with her barely able to even look at it.

As a girl who grew into a woman while living mostly with her paternal aunt, she had always seen the best of things, while maintaining an uncanny understanding of things at their worst, and had absorbed herself into the beauty of the world and its people. But now, having to come to grips with unfamiliar duties, she was tired. The temptation to run, to hide, to simply turn down the position her mother had occupied, was very strong. She had, for a time, thought of doing just that: selling her interest to some third party management firm and walking away to the beauty she’d always wrapped her life in, but in the end that wasn’t who she was, and she knew it.

I slept and dreamt that life was beauty, and woke to find that life was duty. The line from some near-forgotten bit of poetry flashed in her mind, as she realized that there was no going back, that she was who she was, and that running and hiding had never been an option.

The biggest hindrance in taking over had been that she had been unable to learn anything about her mother’s holdings, other than an indication of their vastness. There had been no will, and no one had come forward to contest her inheritance, or to claim any share of it, which struck her as very unusual with a fortune so apparently vast.

It had been then, acting on the advice of a friend in Chicago, that she had contacted the thief, Olivia Brooks, who, it seemed, had recently infiltrated the headquarters of the corporation owned by that same friend. Further investigation had revealed that Brooks was indeed very good, possibly—probably—the best, and that, if anybody could help her unlock the secrets her mother had seemingly taken to the grave, it was Olivia Brooks. Beren nearly couldn’t wait to meet with the thief later in the week and learn what she had found so far.

With all of these things on her mind, and a lap full of reports, she didn’t notice that her car had stopped, and only looked up when her bodyguard spoke. “Halim selim,” Kareen said, startling Beren with her native language. Looking up she saw the tall, flaxen haired bodyguard looking directly at her with a strange intensity in her eyes, and saw the shadow of a large truck blocking their way, just as the flashing white crystal centered on Kareen’s forehead took Beren’s mind and commanded her will to sleep.

She was walking toward the doors of the Ari Kovani, her pulse pounding with excitement at what was about to happen, the street clothes discarded back at the car. She, the esir, had fully submitted and was awash with wonderful, warm keyif, which flowed into her from her eğitici. Her body sang with anticipation of walking proudly to her kapsül for beyin yıkama, the process which would forever change her into a kovan arisi. It was where she belonged and it owned her entire being.

Then she was awake, slowly recognizing her out of focus hotel room and the equally blurry face silhouetted against the ceiling.

“It’s alive!” the familiar face of Alex came into focus, standing over her. “You had me worried.” Alex had been Brooks’ sometimes-partner for a number of years and was probably the only person in the world she trusted. He had been acting as lookout, pretending to be a waiter, and been spotted by their client when Brooks had met with her a month before.

Brooks moved with a shock, attempting to sit up, but fell back to the soft pillow with her head spinning. “That’ll be enough of that for now I’d say.” Alex scolded. “You took a nasty spill, and, it seems, a lot of juice from your bug zapper.”

Brooks’ hand went slowly, lazily to her throbbing head. Her eğitici was still there, even as she had felt it, had known it would be, but she needed to touch it to be sure. It seemed not to be affecting her at present, at least not in any way that she could notice. As her fingers touched the jewel, and the metal around it, all of that changed: sparks of warm pleasure—keyif—jolted through her mind and she pulled her hand back, as if from a hot stove.

“Do I want to know what happened in there?” Alex asked, seeming to focus on the object attached to her head.

“I’m not sure I know,” Brooks said, slowly pushing herself up to a seated position. It took her a woozy moment to notice that she was naked, and then another to slowly pull the sheets up to her chest.

“I had to check,” Alex spoke, hesitatingly, “No broken bones, but a lot of bruises, and . . . that . . . that thing on your head.”

Brooks didn’t immediately speak. Her head was spinning slowly, and she tried to assemble memories of that place, Ari Kovani without tempting her eğitici to awaken. “They put it on me.” She finally said. “I tried to take it off, but when I tried it tightened up on you and wouldn’t budge, and when I went to cut it you screamed in your sleep. When I tried again to pull it off . . .” he trailed off, his expression alternating worry and embarrassment.

“It’s a control device . . .” Brooks began, “It seems to get stronger from touch, and . . .” she paused, considering: “. . . sex.”

Alex was silent, not knowing what to say, seeming deep in thought.

“I’m me,” Brooks said, “or at least I think so, but it almost had me a couple of times.”

“Powered by sex? That’s pretty fucked up.”

“Sex is something you have,” Brooks said matter-of-factly, “and something you use. This thing has just found a new use for it.”

Beren was in heaven, her eğitici was drowning her in warm, soft keyif, as three köle, attendants in their beautiful blue veils, were softly rubbing fragrant oil into her eager skin. All of the earlier weight on her mind was gone, leaving only keyif in its wake. These women, her servants, were here to take care of her, to please her and it made her smile. Seeing her smile made each of them, in turn, tremble with pleasure, ödül—a thing Beren had felt many times over since arriving here, at this place, Ari Kovani, home.

She knew that she was being prepared, but for what, she was only slowly learning; the knowledge was unfolding slowly in her mind as her eğitici provided it to her. She was being prepared for something called beyin yıkama, which her brain translated as indoctrination, and something else . . . taç giydirme töreni, coronation, which to her sex-and-keyif fuzzled mind didn’t quite make sense. In time, she knew, it would, and she felt a new shudder of ödül as she accepted and obeyed, allowing the soft, warm caresses of the beautiful köle to wash her away in wonderful waves of keyif.

“Bağlı olmak Ari Kovani,” she sighed,blissfully.

Brooks sat next to Alex, as he tapped keys on his laptop, and clicked away with the cursor. “The decryption is going to take a while.” He said, looking at her, “You need to rest.” Alex had been her friend since college, where they’d met and he’d tutored her through chemistry. In return, she, the jock, had gotten him laid with a cheerleader friend of hers. He, in turn, had nursed a crush on her from the start, something which she had tried hard to discourage but had somehow not been able to squelch. Once, long ago, she had wondered if she ought to return his affections for a time, but knowing herself for what she was—someone whose appetites would never settle down—couldn’t ever do that to him. She was a thief, a mercenary, and sometimes even a liar, but she could never be cruel, especially to a friend.

“Too much to do,” Brooks said, opening a second laptop and typing a search query.

“Ari Kovani,” Alex read over her shoulder, “Turkish for bee hive.” Brooks could almost hear him thinking, puzzling over what it meant.

“I need to find a language tutorial,” she looked at him, “and I need to find it now.”

“Here,” he said, his eyes sneaking another concerned glance at the thing on her head with the seeming all-seeing sapphire on her forehead, “Let me.” He took her laptop and began a search of his own. “Our friends Pirate’s Cay and whirlyshare to the rescue,” he said after a few seconds, and then handed the computer back to her, a download progress bar displayed in the center of the screen.

“File sharing is illegal,” she said with a wry smile. “Shame on you.”

Ignoring her, he clicked the decryption program to minimize it, and bring up another screen, which showed the results of a search. “Uh oh,” he said, clicking a news link, “Our pretty client disappeared this morning, and initial reports called it an abduction, but now they’ve changed their story, even though there were witnesses who saw the whole thing.”

“Stockholm,” Brooks read the news clip while he summarized, “Looks like I’m going to Sweden,” she said at last, a familiar glint in her eye.

“Wait,” Alex said, his gaze darting from looking her in the eyes, to the thing on her forehead. “Are you sure you want to do this? Why not lay low and figure that thing out . . .” he paused before continuing, “After that, there’s that job in Chicago.”

“I have never lost a client,” she said, slowly rising to her feet and turning toward the connecting door between his suite and hers, “and I have never run away in my life. You know that.” He watched her backside as she disappeared into her own room.

In her room, Brooks paused, her eyes fixing on her own reflection in the large wall-mounted mirror. The sweatpants and t-shirt she wore looked strange to her as her mind drifted. Her peripheral vision caught the pile of blue fabric that was her giysi and a stray thought which she couldn’t quite catch flashed in her mind.

I look like Hell, she thought, and walked toward her bathroom; wonder if this thing’s waterproof.

The burst of water hit her full in the face and it was like being reborn, her body revitalized. She stood under the spray, turning the temperature up to maximum, filling the room and her lungs with steam. Massaging soap into her tired skin, her mind began to float, and her eğitici began rewarding her good behavior with warm keyif. Kovan arıların her zaman temiz olmalıdır: the words purred within her drifting mind; a good kovan arisi needed always to be clean. She couldn’t say it was wrong. After all, she had always liked to be clean and who didn’t love a good, hot shower?

She breathed heavily of the steam mixing with floral-scented shampoo as her mind drifted further, transported to another place. There was a kapsül, and a pretty kovan arisi leading her softly by the hand. “Içeriye girmek”, she cooed in Brooks’ ear, her warm breath sending tingles through the ready esir’s open mind; it was time, and Brooks obeyed the command without thinking, stepping into the waiting kapsül and calmly, blissfully standing while the restraints were fastened at her wrists, ankles, and waist. Her attending kovan arisi kissed her gently and warmly and stepped back, closing her into the glass tube which became her world. Her ears filled with music and sound as her vision filled with flowing tapestries of blue, red, gold and black. There was a fullness in her pussy that felt wonderful. Beyin yıkama, her mind sighed; she was becoming a kovan arisi, and it was heaven. Her mind and body were hit by the first of what would be many world-changing orgasms.

Standing under the shower, her mind came back to her, and she slowly realized that she had been deeply masturbating with one hand while the other idly kneaded one of her breasts. She couldn’t really remember what she’d been thinking; only that she had brought herself off, and that it felt really good. It didn’t bother her—really, nothing did right now—her world was the hot water and the polished black marble of the bathroom and the glass doors of the shower. She was safe and a little pleasure was good for her.

Toweling off, she walked back into her bedroom and caught sight of herself again in the full-length mirror. For a long time, she stood still, quietly focused on the naked woman in the mirror with the bright, gleaming jewel on her forehead. There was a flash of a thought in her mind, of getting her giysi and putting it on, but the thought passed quickly as she drifted, pulling her sweatpants and t-shirt back on instead.

Slowly, and with effort, she turned away and went to the small desk near the wall. Slipping the headphones over her ears seemed familiar somehow, but the thought failed to stay with her as she booted up the new language program.

“Merhaba,” the program voice said in a bright, friendly tone.

“Hello,” Brooks said . . . “Merhaba.”

The screen offered pictures for which, when she placed the cursor on them, the program provided spoken and written words in the Turkish language. Brooks clicked through them very quickly, feeling good that she was such a fast learner.

The program was very easy to use; Alex had done well in finding it so fast. “Telefon,” she repeated, clicking further, a warm, pleasurable feeling rising from between her legs. “Taksi—the program was obviously meant for travel purposes, but it was very easy, and she was learning very well. Her eğitici seeming to twinkle at her from her faint reflection in the screen, slowly, her free hand found its way into her waistband.

“Gıda,” her lips mouthed through the building keyif. Yes, food was an important word to know. “Otel”, yes, evet; it would be good for a tourist to know how to find their hotel.

Unknown time passed as she studied. Alıştırma; her body glowed with keyif and it was wonderful to just learn, and not think. “iyi . . . evet, good, iyi, very iyi . . . çok iyi . . . .” her hand began to move faster and push deeper, as she clicked through the screens and pictures.

“Ev, home” her lips breathed huskily. She was close; she could feel it coiling inside of her, tighter and tighter. Ari Kovani, “home”, her body was afire with keyif, “Please! ne olur beni eve götür.” Please take me home; her eyes rolled back in her head as keyif began to give way into ödül. “Bağlı olmak Ari Kovani!” she moaned the words which filled her brain, declaring to what she belonged, as her body tumbled over the edge, convulsing with each wave of orgasm, each wave of ödül.

After a while she passed out, slumping in her chair.

Getting in had been relatively easy, as had been finding the files. Now, the hard part was to copy them before someone came in and wondered what this stranger was doing searching through files in a darkened detectives’ office in Stockholm in the middle of the night. The strange jewelry on her head would possibly be the least of the explaining that Brooks would need to do. Scanning pages with a wand, she copied page after page from the folder marked “Omenaa, Beren, stängt.” That the case had already been closed, within a day, seemed strange, but somehow witness accounts of women with shiny white jewels on their foreheads didn’t. Brooks had wondered that, since waking up face down over her laptop, her eğitici had been very quiet. She hoped it had finally run out of power, and that it wasn’t just waiting for a moment to strike, dragging her back into keyif, and back to the Ari Kovani. There was a lurking thought at the back of her mind that she planned to go back any way, to find her employer, but she tried not to let thoughts of the place grow too large for now. One burning bridge at a time, she thought.

She knew that she should have left Alex a note before leaving the hotel, but he had been sleeping soundly, and she didn’t know what to say anyway. Waking him would only give him an opportunity to try and talk her out of going in the first place, so she had left quietly and taken a taxi to the airport. This was the first time since Chicago that she had done a job without Alex sitting backup in the car, but this one was different, and she knew she needed to go alone.

Her PDA beeped once, informing her that it had absorbed the information she’d selected from the police database, just as she scanned the wand across the last page in the file. Another beep told her that someone had just passed a motion sensor she’d placed, which meant she had only a few seconds before they would be walking down the hall outside the office. Looking down at the scattered files, she made a quick decision: better the police wonder who had carelessly left the files out than be discovered.

Policewoman Lis Rapace had been working late shifts all week, and was too tired to give the woman in the gray hoodie who walked past her in the hall with what looked like a restaurant take-out bag in her gloved hand much of a look. Absently, she noticed a glint of silver and blue from under the hood, but the aroma of curry from the bag drew her attention from the woman. Lis hadn’t eaten since lunch, almost twelve hours before, and made a note to check on which of her coworkers had ordered food, and to get the number for the place.