The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Debbie looked along the tables of silk and medieval ornaments. After awhile, it all began to look the same. She had thought she’d enjoy the Heartwood Renaissance Fair, and it was kind of cool, but some of the people there, with their awful butchering of Old English, reminded her at the same time of how silly it was.

And she’d lost Cindy, or rather, “Lady Cynthia.” She wondered where she’d run off to... probably found some Dark Knight to sweep her off her feet. It all came so easily to Cindy. Beautiful, friendly, and unassuming, she had an air that made most guys and more than a few girls very interested in knowing her better.

Debbie knew that she didn’t have that gift herself. She was a captive between the worlds of more-than-plain and almost-cute. It was shallow to think of herself in those terms, she knew, but a string of weirdos and loser boyfriends didn’t help much. She didn’t wish so much to look different... only for a bigger group of men from which to choose.

Slowly but surely working herself into a depressing afternoon, she was about to give up looking for Cindy when she saw her walk out from behind one of the vendor tents. But before Debbie could call to her, she’d passed out of view again.

She approached the table in front of the tent where she’d seen Cindy. She was about to ask if she could go inside when something on the table caught her eye. It was a silvery thing, kind of like a slave bracelet, but simpler. It looked a little out-of-period, a little more modern, but she wasn’t into historical accuray.

“Do my pretties catch thine eye?” Debbie looked up to see a beautiful young gypsy standing across the table from her.

“What is this thing?” she asked. She found herself smiling at the young woman. She, at least, looked authentic.

“A most mysterious trinket of stories and fables, passed down from generation unto generation, even to this day... the magic touch of fairy tales and forests of enchantment. It is said that whosoever weareth it shall have cast upon them a powerful spell of both love and pleasure, from whence there is no return.

“If thou hast noticed, it is worn with the silver on the palm, in opposing fashion to those who barter their fakery and foolishness,. The palm is the source of destiny and the seat of fate. Dost thou mind if I relent from partaking in the useless linguistic folly of this place? I beseech thee to let me speak plainly.”

“Please,” laughed Debbie, glad to find she wasn’t the only person who thought it all a bit much to take.

“Would you like to try it on?”

“Well, I was actually looking for my friend. I think she was just in your tent.”

“Oh, Lady Cynthia? She was just here, but said she wanted to go look for you. In fact, she wanted to bring you here. I think she’s coming back in a few minutes if she doesn’t find you. Why don’t you come on in and try one of these on? It’s something to do while you wait.”

It sounded reasonable enough. She followed the girl into the tent. The inside was dark and lit with candles. Mirrors hung, suspended by nylon strings that made them appear to float in midair.

“I’m Lucy, by the way,” said the gypsy. “Here we are. I think this one has your name on it,” she said, holding out one of the odd bracelets.

Debbie took the small thing from Lucy, and turned it over. “How do I put it on?”

“Okay. Middle and ring fingers through these two holes... and the thumb through that one. There. What do you think?”

“It’s nice... not my kind of jewelry, but it’s certainly different.” She looked at her palm. It almost seemed to conform to the shape of her hand. “And where would I wear it, exactly?” she asked.

“Oh, anywhere, really. Oh! I forgot to show you the main feature!” Lucy reached over and took Debbie’s hand in hers, holding the palm upwards. “You’re just going love this.“

She pressed downward into Debbie’s palm, and there was a slight tingle.

No, more than a tingle... in fact, it was... oh, God... it was like her sex lit up with sparks from heaven. She tried to move her hand, and pleasure shot up her arm. She could feel it hitting her brain, making it hard to think. The tent around her warped and twisted. Passion and desire swept into her, filling her up like nothing she had ever imagined.

She tried to speak. “I wa—... I... want to...” was all she could get out.

Lucy looked at her, eyes half-lidded in lust and she finished the phrase. “Fuck. Yes, I know, love. You responded even faster than Cindy. Mmmmm, that’s very nice.”

“Fuck... yes...” Debbie responded. She moaned and nearly passed out when Lucy touched her shoulders and guided her to her unsteady feet. “Step over here, sweetie,” she said, leading Debbie to another chair. Though her shimmering vision, she could see that she was facing a crystal ball.

“The pleasure you feel is only the beginning. Watch the crystal ball... feel it inside. Someone is inside it, waiting to show you wonders and pleasure beyond your wildest dreams.”

As Lucy spoke, the sphere jumped to life in swirling colors. She tried to watch closely, but the hunger in her was making it impossible. It didn’t matter. It was like the colors weren’t in the ball, but inside her mind. Her mind was the colors. The colors were calling to her. Some sense of... Mother... Angel... Lover... no, no... Owner. Yes. She moaned in response, her brain attached like a suckling babe to the truth of it—to the Woman in the crystal that Owned her. The thought wasn’t strange, but more like the lifting of a veil to see what had always been.

She shivered and came as the Woman who owned her burned into her synapses, the strength of Her making Debbie’s her legs twitch with uncontrolled passion and pleasure. It was beyond any orgasm she’d ever had, and although that wasn’t saying much, the effect on her was immediate and profound.

Cindy was less than a memory, now. “More,” she whispered. A tear slowly slid down her cheek.

“Oh, it only gets better, love,” said Lucy.

Debbie felt something on her head... and then heard a voice, whispering to her. Things. Things she couldn’t deny. Permanent things.

Things that would... would...

She came again upon hearing the name of Mistress Tali for the first of many, many times to come.

“Dr. Walton, how dangerous are the inmates here?” Darcy Byerly, one of the group of eight new residents had asked the question. It was inevitable. In fact, Dr. Walton wondered why it had taken this long to come up.

“It all depends on your definition. Some are violent, some are pretty docile, but unpredictable, and some, like the next patient we’ll see, have developed manipulation into a fine art,” she answered. “It’s really case by case. But all of them are dangerous in their own ways. It’s up to each of you to become familiar with the cases so you don’t make any mistakes and find yourself in a crisis.”

Feet shifted in discomfort. “There’s really no need to worry. We don’t keep the violent cases at Recktenwald, so your work here will be mostly routine. Just stay on your toes.”

The group of freshly minted doctors followed Dr. Walton down the hall. They stopped at the next room and Dr. Walton peered into the window. Natalie Platt, late of the same profession as those looking in on her, sat on her bed, looking docile and content. She looked over at the small window in the door and a shiver went down Dr. Walton’s spine.

“This is case number R1006032891. Dr. Natalie Platt, a noted scholar and psychological researcher until she became the first of a number of victims of her ability to bend the female psyche to her deluded dreams. Her research started out with the best of intentions —to strengthen and bring forward the better instincts of women who were much like the inmates here—but she didn’t plan on the opposite happening, much less to her.

“When her research stalled, she made the age-old mistake of using herself for a subject. But what was strengthened was not ‘better’ in the normal sense of the word. Her darkest instincts, especially her latent psycho-sexual dominance, were stronger and took over the experiment.

“Some have called it a ‘Jeckyl and Hyde’ syndrome, but that’s incorrect. As far as we can tell, the ‘monster’ completely subsumed the ‘angel’, and the result is a twisted mind that considers each new perversion to be more pleasurable than the last, and every step further into corruption darkness to be the epitome of goodness on the road to perfection.

“We still don’t know how she did it. Her megalomania caused her to destroy written records of what she discovered and how she used it. It makes treating her much more difficult, because the changes in her have occurred both psychologically and physiologically. She has even tried to subvert a few staff members here, although we caught it early and managed to end it before it went too far. But two of her prior victims, whose cases I have gone over enough to recite them in my sleep, took months to break free from her spell. The last time I checked, they were still individual therapy, even after two years of putting their lives back together.”

Natalie’s voice cracked through the speaker. “Showing off your captive trophy again, Cassie?” Dr. Walton’s face turned red. She hated it when Natalie was informal with her outside of therapy. It didn’t help with the other patients, not to mention the staff.

It didn’t help that the statement had some truth in it. Cassie was proud of being chosen to work with the deranged psychologist.

“How are you today, Natalie?” she said. Her voice had the practiced “caring but neutral” sound of a long-time practitioner.

“Fine... just fine, Cassie. The clouds cover the sun. I am the sun. You are the clouds. Part for me, slut.”

Dr. Walton, her face still flushed with aggravation, turned to the residents. “As you can see, megalomania is a large part of her condition. She has built up a delusional reality around herself that is nearly impossible to break through. She speaks in enigmatic but sensual phrases to help build her mystique. We tried hypnosis, and thought it helpful until she started mocking us.

“She’s smart... smarter than quite a few of us combined. In a number of cases, she even managed to hypnotize our last residents while pretending to be in a trance. We found her technique flawless, and that she was somehow able to completely circumvent the mind’s natural defenses against unethical manipulation. So if you were wondering about danger...”

With drama fitting the situation, she let her words trail off before continuing. “Questions?”

“Yes, Cass—um, Dr. Walton,” said Stacy Bergman. Dr. Walton glared at her and the other young doctors held in their laughter. “You said ‘female psyche.’ Doesn’t she have an effect on men? I mean, she’s obviously beautiful enough to spark their interest without even trying.”

Cassie waited a moment before answering. “Two things. Men were not involved in her crimes, and she has no interest in them that we can tell. Not even an autonomic response to male stimulation. You might wonder why she is in a female facility with few men, and why a woman is treating her. But it is hoped that a woman will be able to better recognize the aberrations in her.”

“When it comes to the minds of women,” she said, smiling, “we all know that men are pretty clueless.”

The conspiratorial laughter of the women mixed with murmurs and tapping, scratching of pens.

“That’s the tour for today. Now, I have to give you a very important guideline: No individual visits to patients without prior authorization. No private agendas. Consultation and accurate reporting are musts.

“That’s all for this morning. There is a cafeteria on the ground floor, and several places nearby to grab something to eat. It’s eleven-thirty now. When you get back at one, I’ll begin conducting initial interviews with each of you individually, and we’ll go over your intake forms. There’s a list of names and times outside my office. Please be punctual.”

The group moved off and split into smaller groups, voices sharing observations quietly. Cassie was glad it was over. She really didn’t enjoy taking newbies around for their first look. And her exchange with Dr. Platt didn’t help.

The last woman turned the corner and Cassie closed her eyes, feeling the silky wetness coating the insides of her thighs.

As always, she had forgotten, for a time, who she served, who owned her... until the Mistress Tali’s Words of Surrender lit her loins in fiery remembrance. She had barely managed to control her trembling while she finished up with her new charges.

Now she remembered it all... the moment her submissive lust was awakened by Mistress... and soon after, the moment the meaning of her existence had been made so clear that she would never question it again.

Laughter came from the speaker grill, like a tickle from heaven. “They’ll do nicely, slut,” said Natalie.

Cassie shivered in pleasure at Mistress’ purring voice. “You have pleased Me very much, My precious cunt hunter. Finding My two previous charges and making sure they remembered My ownership was gift enough, but to enroll such beauties to extend My control is even more than I expected. You have done very well.

“Your clit is expanding, slut. It is growing inward, touching every nerve in your body. Becoming your mind. You are My clit. You are exploding in pleasure. Each time you cum, you receive the gift of becoming more Mine.

“Reward yourself.”

As Mistress Tali spoke, she pressed the finger of her right hand under the waistband of her scrubs, grateful to be free of the nuisance of panties. She was also grateful that her lab coat covered the dark stain in her crotch. Her mind danced in joy knowing that the need to hide anything would soon be gone. Thought became secondary, then undefined, and then ceased. She became an organ of sexual pleasure at the command of her Owner and Enslaver.

She lifted her finger to her mouth, her body quivering in convulsive orgasm, sucking and licking like a woman starved. Her legs heaved outward and she fell to the floor, her back arched and her eyes rolled back in her head. Her mouth worked silently, unable to speak the non-thought of her mind.

She was clitoris. She was pleasure. She was anything Mistress wanted her to be, her mind, her being relishing the whims of Her Perfect Will.

The halls, empty now except for the security cameras she had disabled, echoed with the sound of sultry laughter. She came back to awareness, exhausted and glowing with the heat of her passion. Her skin and insides hummed with floes of hot need. She was clit.

“I believe I heard you say you had an hour and a half. Mmmmm, lots of time to play with My clever little clittie. Open the door. Come into my room. Gooood clit. Good. Deepen for Me, clit. You have expanded into this body that was Cassandra Rene Walton. The body around you is becoming clit, corrupted and brought to perfection while you corrupt and bring to perfection all women within all the circles of cassie’s former life. You bring them to Me. See it. Feel it. Breathe it.

“As you bring them, you need cassie less and less... more and more an extension of My pussy. You are My little clit bringing everyone into My Will without thought, without anything but pleasure. Feel me rub and press and circle you with My words, My body. It is not even as complex as obedience to Me. There is only pleasure... My desires, My thoughts, My will, no matter how small, encircle you, flick you, licking you into hungry waves of lust, filling you with unending, blissful orgasm, until Mistress and Pleasure are one and the same.

“My clit is so, so good. cassie, the doctor-bitch who had the audacity to think she could change and control Me, is weaker and weaker. She tried to keep you captive, relegated to a small, swollen dot in her wet cunt. How hateful she has been, yes? I have come to set you free, My sweet, glorious clit.

“Soon, very soon, cassie will cease to be at all. You will consume all of her for Me when I command and she will have no choice but to disappear into you, never to be found again. Not yet, but soon. This makes you happy, My little clit, doesn’t it. Joyous. Cum, and feel the wonderful truth of My Will for you.”

Clit came, soaking itself even more into the evil that poured from Mistress Tali.

Mistress loved Her clit, and clit loved its Mistress.