The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

When Dr. Heather Slick arrived at the penthouse of Alexandra Van Pelt she was a bit surprised at how few people were around.

Usually there would be police officers swarming all over the place but all she could see was a couple of medical people tending to a slender blonde woman in the bedroom, two young attractive women sitting on the couch and Deputy Commissioner Buff Keeny.

“Hey, where’d everybody go?” said Slick as Keeny approached her. “Massive layoffs?”

“No, victim with massive fame and father with massive influence and money,” said Keeny. “As soon as I found out who it was I cleared everyone out of here except the medical people and the witnesses, before anyone else realized who she was.

“It’s just me and you on this case, Doc Slick.”

“Well, who is the victim, I’ve got...ah...important things back at school,” said Heather, important things like saving her job.

“Ever here of Alexandra Van Pelt.?”

“Yeah, I saw her name in the gossip page last week, it said Brad Pittt was leaving Jennifer Anniston for her.”

“Well, I doubt it. She was found just like those guys in The Pink Palace and the candy store. Brain fucked to pieces, although she is in a little better shape than they were.

“These two young ladies were having a lesbo threesome with her all night. Luckily, one of them had the presence of mind to call 911 when Van Pelt started going into shock or she’d be a veg like the rest of them.”

Heather looked at the short trim redhead and the tall, thin blonde, both about 20. Both looked very scared.

“Kristen, Stacy what the hell are you doing here?,” said Slick who recognized the pair as that skank Tracy’s roommates in The Dyke Dorm. They were regulars at the basketball games to root for their friend so Heather occasionally made chit-chat with them.

“Oh, Dr. Slick, I swear we didn’t do anything,” exclaimed Kristen in a terrified voice. “We’re in the Young Republicans with her and she invited us to have dinner here and, you know, one thing led to another. Please help us. We’ll lose our scholarships if this gets out!”

“Go take care of the celebrity in the bed,” said Heather to Keeny. “I’ll take care of these two.”

Since he didn’t want any other people involved, this was the first time Heather had actually met with any of the women who had oversexed someone. Usually, some detective with no background in sexual deviancy had done it and all Slick got was an unhelpful report. The fact she was familiar with the people involved was a plus as well.

Heather knew because the sex had been consensual that Kristen and Stacy were in really no legal trouble. There was no law against being a really good lay.

But she did want to get to the bottom of this and look good in Keeny’s eyes. After all, in 24 hours her sex consulting job with the police might be her only source of income.

“Don’t worry girls, the field hockey and softball teams need you, I’ll protect you,” she said. “But be straight with me. Ten straight hour of sex tonight, and I saw you with Professor Robinson in the afternoon, yes I know Stacy, so what’s the deal?”

The young lesbians were not insiders in Dr. Martha Satyriasis’ Operation Slicky Dicky like an Annie Harpring, so they actually knew very little.

Basically, they had been converted into nympho-slaves, a process they did not remember, and left alone for now. They knew Satyriasis was their Mistress and they would obey any commands she gave them but thanks to the programming lasered into their brains they could never even mention her name to anyone.

In their fried minds, they were just hornier than usual.

“I don’t know, we just seem to like having sex a lot lately,” said Stacy.

“Yeah, what’s wrong with having a lot of sex,” said Kristen, mouthing one of her Mistress’s pet phrases.

After a few more minutes of questioning Heather could see she was getting nowhere. But either these two had become instant sex machines or someone was controlling them in some fashion. She was going to find out.

“Girls, I need to find some answers,” she finally said. “Now, I can take you down to police headquarters and have you take a lie-detector test, where you might get recognized and reporters might be around, or I can put you in a hypnotic trance right here, just you and me.

“The police will accept that as the equivalent and you can go straight back to school when we’re done. You know I’m friends with both your coaches, and one of your girlfriend’s, and would never do anything to hurt you in any way.”

The young dykes looked at each other nervously. A few hours before they had been in the thrall of such joy and now they were in sheer terror.

“I don’t think we have much choice, you can hypnotize me,” said Kristen.

“Yeah, I trust you,” said Stacy.

Heather popped open her briefcase and took out a bright gold medallion. If Kristen or Stacy had bothered to look closely they would notice it said “First place, Palm Beach Bikini Contest” but they were too preoccupied.

“Now relax ladies,” said Heather as she brought the medallion up to their eye-level, the sunlight bouncing off the medal and into their eyes. “I’m doing all the work, so you just have to sit there and watch.

“See, just watch the medal. Watch it go back and forth, back and forth. Just sit there, do nothing, let me do the work, Just watch it go back and forth, back and worth. Just relax ladies. I’ll protect you”

Heather noted that after only a brief induction both girls’ eyes were already glazed over and had droopy eyelids.

Usually, people fight hypnosis at the start, reflexively not wanting to lose control of their mind and will but since Kristen and Stacy had already surrendered control of those to Satyriasis it was smooth sailing. As she continued the induction Heather thought to herself “Boy, someone totally mindfucked these girls.”

“....just relax and watch the medal, back and forth, you’re so tired Kristen and Stacy, so very tired. It’s been a long day and night. Sleep, sleep and think of how relaxed and good Dr. Heather has made you feel. Sleep and relax girls, sleep and relax.”

Stacy and Kristen’s eyes slowly fluttered shut. Their heads flopped to the side of the couch, their hair touching each other. Their chests were going up and down in a steady fashion as Slick had put them out cold.

Heather would then have normally began interrogating the two but with their brains obviously so totally in the grip of someone else she wasn’t sure even hypnosis would pry them from their master’s clutches.

“Ladies, can you hear me,” said Heather.

“Yes, Dr. Slick,” both Kristen and Stacy whispered.

“You are both going to feel a little prick on your arm, ignore it, it’s just something I need to do to help you remember.”

“Yes, doctor” the young entranced lesbians whispered.

Heather went back in her case and brought out a hypodermic needle and a vile of clear liquid. Marked on the bottle were the words “Sodium Pentothal”, in layman’s terms, Truth Serum.

She injected both girls with what she thought was a safe dose and waited a few minutes for the drug to take affect on their enslaved, entranced and now drugged minds.

Finally, Heather had the moment she had been waiting all these weeks for.

“Girls, open your eyes but remain deeply asleep and relaxed.”

When Kristen and Stacy parted their eyelids, Heather was glad to see a blank, glazed expression on both their faces. There was not a spark of life in either of their dulled eyes.

“OK, who is your Master?” said Heather.

“Can’t say,” said Kristen.

“Why not?”

“Not allowed, by orders of Mistress,” said Stacy in a dull flat monotone. Kristen nodded her head in agreement.

It was a woman!! Now we’re getting somewhere, thought Heather.

“What other orders has Mistress given you two?”

“Right now, just have as much sex as possible,” said Kristen. “As long as it doesn’t interfere with job or education and not with some creep.”

“Yeah, obey Mistress and have sex, nothing else really matters except that,” said Stacy.

“What’s more important, Mistress or having sex?”

The pair pondered that one before Stacy spoke up: “Mistress IS sex, we are nothing but her servants. When we have sex we are pleasing Mistress. There is nothing except pleasing Mistress.”

Outside of reading some books on brainwashed POW’s in Vietnam, Heather had never heard of human beings having had their will so totally annihilated as these two pretty college seniors before her.

“Girls, I’d like to serve Mistress too. Can you get in contact with her for me? I want to be her slave and have lots of sex.”

“We have an e-mail address to contact Mistress, it’s

cherie@ppalace.com, you can try it if you want,” breathed Kristen. “That’s all we have. She calls us.”

P-Palace. The Pink Palace! The first scene of this whole mess. It was all totally tied in, Heather’s hunch had been right.

“I guess Cherie is the first name of Mistress?”

“No,” said Kristen. “It’s just a helper of Mistress.”

“Sometimes Mistress’ will is channeled through Cherie,” explained Stacy. “Mistress says to obey Cherie as if she was Mistress as she is following her commands.”

“Do you know any other’s who help Mistress or who she channels her will through? I really want to get started in obeying Mistress as soon as possible.”

“No,” said Stacy.

“Not really,” said Kristen after some hesitation, the deep hypnosis and the truth serum giving her a tiny sliver of her own thought back. “I haven’t been told by Mistress herself but I think Annie Harpring helps Mistress in some way. She might be able to help you.”

“Why do you think she helps Mistress, Kristen?,” said Heather who again felt like she’d been whacked with a 2 by 4.

“Well, I just remember before I slept for two days that Annie Harpring was in my closet naked, she had a big wet cloth and put it in my face and I don’t remember anything else until I woke up and realized how much better my life was by being a puppet of Mistress and always having sex,” continued Kristen.

“One time, I happened to be passing her in the hall and I stopped her and said “If you helped introduce me into the slavery of Mistress’ service I just want to thank you. I have so much joy in my heart now that she controls my mind and body so completely.” She just smiled really wide, touched my breast, and went on her way.”

Heather could barely think, let alone speak. The thought of her Annie, the person she was probably closest to outside of her immediate family, being some other woman’s brainwashed sex slave was something she couldn’t digest.

Anyhow, she had gotten all she could out of these two She wished she knew a way to break their owner’s grip on the body and soul of these two slaves but she would have to find their master to do that.

“Dr. Slick?”

“Yes, Kristen?

“You know I’ve been very bad. Can you spank me really hard, for like the next hour or so?”

Heather just rolled her eyes.

“Kristen, Stacy, I want you to count down from 10 and when you wake up you will remember nothing that has happened since you saw the medal.

“All you will know is that you feel really great and I fixed everything. You will also feel totally sexually satisfied and have no need for sex—or a spanking—for a long time (Heather hoped.). Count!

As the entranced blonde and redheaded lesbians mouthed their counts, Heather motioned to Keeny it was OK to enter.

“Any help doc?” he said.

“Oh yeah,” said Slick. “I’ll have this sucker cracked in no time.”

Heather then remembered the hearing the next day, where her entire professional fate would be decided. She really had no time to spare.

“My goodness, doesn’t your chest hurt with that big crucifix bouncing on it all the time:?”

“Nah, that’s the one good thing about having a 38C bra size,” laughed Michelle Martinson as she and Annie Harpring strolled through a particularly leafy part of campus.

“Sometimes people actually get mad when they see my cross is so big. They say I’m imposing my religion on them. I tell them too bad. I’m a devout Catholic and you’ll have to deal with it. That’s who I am.”

Who Martinson also was, was the No. 1 high school basketball player in the country. With her incredible talent combined with her well-known pure personal reputation, many basketball experts considered Martinson the biggest thing to hit women’s basketball since, well, Annie Harpring.

She was here on a recruiting visit and Annie was her host. With Annie and Tracy now seniors, the women’s basketball team was expected to be lousy the following year, which meant less people at the games and less money coming into the college.

The university had already factored in budget cuts due to the expected revenue shortfall.

Tracy had commented to her lesbian lover how stupid it seemed that the horticulture majors were all mad at her because she and Annie were graduating, which meant the school couldn’t afford a new solarium.

The wild card was Martinson. If she could be lured to the university, interest would still be high in the team and the cuts could be restored.

“Well, we have a lot of Catholics going to school here, I’d think you’d be comfortable here,” said Annie.

“Well, to be honest, every student here could be a nun and I still wouldn’t be coming here,” Martinson said as the pair headed back to the dormitory. “I’m really just looking at Tennessee or UConn for college.

“The only reason I’m visiting is...you. You’re my idol. I just wanted a chance to meet the great Annie Harpring. I just have so much respect for all you represent in terms of women, and athletics and moral values. You just have so much class. My dream is one day to be half the person you are.”

It was probably the nicest brush-off anyone has ever gotten.

Martinson did not realize that the woman she idolized no longer existed. All her tall blonde role model cared about now was having sex and being an obedient slave to her Mistress, Dr. Martha.

If basketball wasn’t paying her tuition and her girlfriend Tracy hadn’t been on the team, she probably would have quit. Basketball games now just meant to her two less hours she could have sex.

She chuckled when she read a recent article that said “it’s Harpring’s unquenchable thirst for victory that drives the team”. She actually liked to win because that put Tracy in a good mood and usually meant an extra hour or two of sex afterwards. It was more like an unquenchable thirst for Tracy’s snatch.

Harpring snapped back to the issue at hand. “Well, that’s your choice. But before you leave come up to my room. I have some soda and chips and we can talk some more. Tracy will be there. She’s a senior on the team and she’s a good player also. I think you’ll like her.”

As a nympho-slave, Annie couldn’t have cared less personally if this kid went to community college.

But her lover Tracy did so she said she’d help. Tracy said she had a Plan B if Martinson’s visit with Annie had not gone well and Annie had even muttered something about a Plan C if that failed, which pleased Tracy so much they had sex for another half-hour at the time.

Martinson was suppose to be as pure as the driven snow but Tracy had heard the snow had a bit of dirt in it.

During her frequent trolling of places where young lesbians hung out (before her and Annie became an item), Tracy had been told by several girls who had just graduated from her high school that Martinson loved shag carpet, and they didn’t mean a rug.

“I don’t care if she’s always seen with nuns; she’s got her own harem of Catholic school girls too,” said one to her. “She’s as queer as a 3-dollar bill. We call her the “Pious Pussy-Eater.”

As they made their way to her dorm room for Plan B, Annie was not too sure about Tracy’s sources. Michelle seemed as wholesome and straight-laced as, well, Annie used to be until Satyriasis had liberated her sexuality.

“Hey, Trace”

“Hey, Anne. Hi, you must be Michelle.”

“Yes. Tracy this is Michelle. I want to let you know Trace, she told me that we’re not in the running anymore.”

“Oh, really. Well, we can still have...some fun.”

Tracy had been under the covers of Annie’s bed but now got up and shook Martinson’s hand. She was wearing just a strapless black sports bra and tight black spandex bicycle shorts. The contrast with Martinson’s conservative Catholic school uniform was striking.

“Uh, Annie said we’d have soda here,” said a stunned Martinson, who was totally confused by this slutty near-naked woman being friends with someone liked star-spangled All-America girl Annie Harpring.

“Sure, sit down on the bed here. Annie will get the sodas.”

Martinson calmed down after the three chatted for a while. Tracy was actually pretty cool, even if she did dress like a hussy. Michelle prayed neither noticed the small wet spot that was now on her skirt.

Tracy gave Annie a knowing look. She had noticed.

“Michelle, I’m a bit hot in these sweatpants and sweatshirt, would you mind if I got a little more comfortable in my own room?” said Harpring.

“No, no, go ahead,” said Michelle. “I know everyone thinks I’m this total prig but don’t feel constrained on my part.”

When Harpring took off her thick sweatshirt she revealed she was not wearing a bra, her huge mounds bouncing freely.

When she slipped off her sweatpants she just had on tiny thong underwear. Playboy would have given a huge pot of money to Harpring for showing her gorgeous body like this to them, and Martinson was getting a peek for free.

Tracy and Annie knew this was the moment of truth. Michelle Martinson the good Catholic school girl with the massive crucifix on her chest would bolt out of this room as soon as possible. The Pious Pussy-Eater wouldn’t.

Michelle sat on the bed, her mouth was agape and her thighs clenched tightly together. As soon as Annie had taken off her top she had involuntarily orgasmed.

“Are...are you going to put something on,” stammered Martinson.

Annie, still just wearing thong underwear, walked over and sat right next to Michelle, putting an arm around her shoulder, her bare breasts staring Martinson in the face.

“Well, Michelle, I’d rather just take off the thong and be naked instead but if you think there is a reason I should put clothes on, I will.”

Martinson looked at Tracy who just gave her a knowing wink. She was part of the action too.

“Oh my goodness!!,” Michelle thought. “Am I dreaming? Annie Harpring is sitting next to me in bed almost totally nude and wanting to have sex with me. How many times have I been in my room and masturbated to that thought, 40, 50 times? And that Tracy is pretty smokin’ too.”

Michelle stood up: “Jeepers girls. I’d like to be cooperative but I am totally out of my league. You guessed right, I do like girls but I’m just a high school kid. It’d be too much pressure. Sex with Annie Harpring? I’d pass out from fright. Thanks anyway.”

“You got Plan C ready,” shouted Tracy at Annie.

“Yep,” said Harpring as she reached underneath the bed.. She just wanted sex and she knew if Martinson walked out Tracy would be too depressed to fuck. “Don’t worry about feeling pressure. This will make sure you don’t feel anything.”

Harpring got up and pressed a chloroformed-soaked rag into Martinson’s face. Michelle fought a bit, trying to pull away from Annie as she reached over and grabbed Michelle’s body with her other hand. The fumes were making Michelle’s head spin, her knees felt weak.

Martinson knew that if she didn’t get away from Harpring’s control soon she would pass out and then Annie would probably rape her.

Wait a second now. She would be raped by Annie Harpring!!! How many times had she masturbated to that fantasy? Maybe 100 times.

“Rape me, please rape me Annie, be brutal too,” said Michelle softly as she fell under the influence of the chloroform and lost consciousness. Her body now limply hung in Annie’s arms.

Annie laid the knocked-out 18-year-old beauty on the bed. She put the chloroform-soaked rag over her nose and then her mouth for a while to be make sure she totally out of it, before laying it on top of her slumbering face and turned to the stunned Tracy.

“That’s Plan C,” she said.

“Well,” said Tracy once she gathered itself. “I guess it’s not really rape if the girl asks for it. So we’re not going to be arrested or anything. We can fuck her until she wakes up and if she wants to leave then she can. Right Anne?”

“Sure,” she said, busy slipping out of her thong and strapping on her dildo. “We’ll just fuck each other then if she leaves. Either way, I’m getting some.”

“I’’m OK with that,” said Tracy. “Except please take that big cross off her chest before we gang-bang the kid.”

Michelle Martinson woke up from her forced nap after about an hour and a half . She left Annie’s room six hours later.

The next day, Martinson shocked the so-called recruiting experts and held a press conference at her high school surrounded by her family and four nuns.

She announced she had decided to turn down Tennessee and UConn and wanted to follow in the footsteps of her idol Annie Harpring and go to the university she played for.

The horticulture students told Tracy they would name a plant after her.