The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Mmmmmm, look at you. Why don’t you come inside for a drink?”

She was a six-and-a-half-foot blue-haired beauty, with fingernails and toenails to match. Her breasts made all kinds of threats about bursting out of the leather corset that was straining to contain them, while the rounded cheeks of her ass moved like two bubble hovers trying to pass each other in a tight race. Her lips made promises her eyes had no intention of keeping, but her hips made promises that made the risk worth it. She was a three-dimensional wet dream.

“Don’t go away,” pouted the blue hair bird. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to work through the pain,” I said, pulling out a vita-cig and lighting it. I blew a stream of smoke through the hologram.

A figure moved next to me, setting off Blue Hair’s automated offer of a drink. A skinny berk stood there, looking like a rodent on the back nine of a bender. I’d known he was there even before Blue Hair told me, but he didn’t need to know that. Being a mindwire was my own business and none of his.

“Waller,” I said. “What’s the chant?”

“’Ello, Gar,” said the rodent, without moving his lips. A neat trick. “Tonight at the Black Hole. 2200 digital. Bring cash.”

“Bring what?”

“Cash, guv. Old Earth slang for money.”

“I see. You’re a man of the stars, Waller.”

“Shite, cutter. Just a berk trying to make enough shiny to get off this hunk of metal, savvy? Now how ’bout providin’ some bounty, yeah?”

“Don’t be a tentacle’s ass, Waller. Half now, half if the meetin’ goes well.”

“I can’t be held vertical for a meeting that goes horizontal, Gar.”

“Relax, Waller. Just blowing your airlock. Mostly, anyway. Half now, half after they show.”

“It’s a fair pop.”

I worked my wrist tech-band for a few seconds. Waller’s band beeped in reply.

“There you go, Waller. Stay off the meteor dust and you’ll be off Port Kepler in no time.”

“Shite, cutter. Dust the only t’ing makes this rig bearable.”

I had nothing to say to that, so I nodded and Waller went on his way.

I started up the strip of shops and services that made up Port Kepler. The creaky space port had been circling Kepler B for so long, few people even knew it’s launch year. Everybody could, however, tell you to the day how long they’d been stuck here. There were far more berks than jobs and saving money to get that off-port ticket was every port resident’s dream.

But that was irrelevant at this moment. Tonight I was going to get something that would make my stay a little more tolerable as well.

At 2100 digital I walked into the Black Hole.

The décor wasn’t, strictly speaking, a reflection of its name. While some sections were certainly darker than others—intentionally so—a colorfully bland motif was vaguely evident. But the effect was pale and the effort fell flat, and everybody knew the decorations were secondary to function.

Drinks and business. Anything else was comet-tail. A wretched hive of scum and villainy, to be sure, but whatever you needed could be found here. For a price.

I glanced around, doing a whom’s-who, then moved toward a table of figures donning brown hooded robes. The typical cutter couldn’t tell which was who, but I wasn’t a conventional.

A hood turned in my direction. “Bright night to you, neighbor. Do you seek a higher plane?”

“Bright night to you, brother abbot,” I said politely. The sensate monks were no one to screw with. “I seek a verbal with Brother Ivan about a previously placed order.”

The monk stared for a moment as I waited. Sensate monks were the source of the best narcotic chems on the station, but they were so formal and conservative that they barely believed in starlight. Getting saucy with ’em didn’t score credits, either.

One of the monks stood, ending the suspense. I’d already known Ivan was there, but the abbot at the table didn’t need to know that.

Ivan and I wandered away from the table, moving into one of the darker corners of the bar.

“Bright night to you, Gar,” said Ivan. “Did my last delivery meet expectations?”

“As advertised, my friend,” I said. “It kept me awake for 2 cycles, as you promised. I needed every minute.”

“Marwake is a potent stimulant, neighbor, and it does so with few side effects.”

“What side effects? I didn’t notice any.”

“That’s because you used it as instructed,” said Ivan. “There are those who use it to stay away a week or longer. That never goes well.”

“Oh?”

“Hallucinations are the typical result,” he said, “typically followed by a further breakdown of faculties. For the first week, anyway. After that—”

I held up my hand. “Apologies, brother, but I have no digital for this. My clock is short tonight.”

“As you will, neighbor. How may I serve?”

“Street chant suggests you have a new product I might be interested in.”

Since he was wearing a hood, I couldn’t see his expression, but he somehow managed to convey surprise.

That business concluded, I moved further inside the Black Hole. I soon came to a table with an attractive redhead. She wore loose fitting leather pants and a sleeveless top that showed off her muscular shoulders and arms. Attractive women sitting by themselves in the Black Hole were usually automatic targets, but not this one. Everybody knew better than to test their luck with Vette. She was a merc and believed it was better to be good than lucky. The ones trying to get lucky with Vette usually found themselves at the med-unit.

I gave her a nod. “Evenin’, Vette. What’s the chant?”

She lifted a glass at me. “Hey, Gar. Just walkin’ and talkin’.”

She hadn’t thrown anything at me or suggested I self-procreate. Professional courtesy.

Vette used her glass to indicate the empty chair at her table. I sat down.

“I think,” she said, “that I’m going to get me some of Catamon’s thrall tonight.”

“The new one?” I said, suddenly interested but speaking casual.

Vette took a swallow of her drink. “Yep. No one’s tapped that yet. She’s good and Catamon’s getting cocky. Think I’m gonna get a piece of that and a stack of credits as well.”

“Be careful,” I said. “Street chant says this one likes to leave her mark on conquests. She doesn’t just win, she embarrasses her conquests.”

“Aww, your concern is touching. You jealous?”

“Sure,” I said. “I’ve been there.”

“Watch it, gonk,” she said, though without real heat. “You just got lucky with that royal flush. I’ll admit you weren’t bad, though. For a man.”

I felt like I was tiptoeing through a minefield. “Props to you for honoring the marker. Figured you to tell me to self-procreate.”

She took a swallow, then grinned. “Thought crossed my mind. But I ain’t javascripted that way. Word’s gotta count for something. Don’t get over yourself, though. You were good, but nothin’ to drop the ladies for.”

Vette finished her drink, then slammed both hands on the table and stood. “All right, time to delta. Gonna bang me some thrall.”

Catamon smiled as Vette approached his table.

He was a large man, well over six feet, with green skin so dark it was bordered on emerald. Dressed in gold and silver robes, his presence radiated beyond the table. He was covered in gold and jewels. That wasn’t what made his wealth obvious, however. The true sign of his position was the woman sitting next to him.

Catamon was a Taur from Tau Ceti-D. An ability specific to Taurs was being able to claim and bond with Taurettes. This bond turned the Taurette into a thrall completely under the control of the Taur. By all accounts it was a very intimate, powerful, erotic state. The Taur could claim only one thrall and it wasn’t always voluntary. The Taur controlled all aspects of the thrall at that point. But the bond between them was powerful and they could amplify each other in ways that were still unknown to non-Taurs.

Catamon looked up as Vette approached. A large bowl sat in front of him, with piles of credits stacked within. When he spoke, his voice was a deep baritone.

“You bring honor to my table, Vette,” said Catamon, “and a certain level of erotic ability. Your last visit left my poor Wenni exhausted. She was days recovering from servicing you.”

Vette smiled. “What can I say? I work hard, I play hard. Now how ’bout you screamsheet the stats on your new joytoy?”

Catamon smiled. “Were we on my world, Vette, referencing my vassal in such a matter would result in a challenge that would leave you with a collar on your neck, a true joytoy on my chain, servicing me as I wish.”

Vette shrugged. “You mean you’d try to put a collar on me. But that’s no bones here, ’cuz we’re not on your world. Just give me the figure so I can get busy putting your girl to work.”

Catamon nodded. “Very well. Xarissa, stand.”

At his words, the woman next to him stood. Thralls from Tau Ceti were typically blue or green skinned. On rare occasions, red or orange skinned vassals might be seen. On extremely rare occasions, a white albino skinned thrall might be seen, although it had been years since one was seen here on Port Kepler. In this case, however, Xarissa was a black skinned thrall.

Not just black-skinned, actually. Her skin was so black that it verged on ebony. Her stark white hair was long and hung down to her exotically rounded ebony bottom. Her impossible curves were so erotically charged that her sensuality radiated beyond the table to the surrounding patrons.

Vette took out a number of credits and dropped them in the bowl. Catamon nodded and then spoke again in that deep baritone.

“For the benefit of all observers,” he said, “what is happening is that this young lady Vette has just made a wager on her ability to overwhelm my thrall Xarissa. What will happen is this. I will open a psionic connection between them. They will then psionically battle each other. Whichever one is victorious will then have control of the loser for approximately three hours. And should Vette win, she will also receive back her bet and an equal amount from me. Meaning that if Vette is victor, she will win both money and have the use of my thrall for the next three hours. Should she lose, however, Xarissa will have control of her for the next three hours.”

Catamon turned to Vette then. “I wish you no ill, of course, but that will prove most interesting. Most recently my Xarissa has taken to piercing the nipples of her female conquests with Taurian steel.”

Ouch. Taurian steel was the diamond of metals. There was no known way of cutting through it without travelling to Tau Ceti. It was essentially a permanent piercing.

Vette nodded her understanding. Her confidence was impressive.

They faced each other across the table. Catamon said, “I’m opening the connection…

…now.”

A small crowd had gathered now. That happened often here at the Black Hole and it was usually due to games of chance. This was no different.

For long seconds, nothing seemed to happen. Vette and Xarissa stared at each other, neither blinking. Vette right eyelid flickered and there was a murmur amongst the crowd. One of Xarissa’s bare shoulders moved then, jerking up.

Sweat was breaking out on Vette’s forehead now, but she showed almost no other sign of difficulty. Xarissa appeared to be almost relaxed.

I pulled my glance away from the tension of the table and took a viddy at Catamon. Suddenly I knew what he was doing.

Vette’s face still remained calm. Too calm. And then I knew why. She had lost.

Xarissa smiled and crooked her finger at Vette. Vette walked around the table and stood in front of the collared Xarissa.

“Be a good girl,” said Xarissa in a throaty voice, “and take off your top.”

And just like that, Vette was topless at the Black Hole.

Xarissa began kissing Vette then, running her hands over Vette’s body as if she owned it. And she did. And when she pushed Vette to her knees and told the redhead to lick her pussy, the crowd cheered.

I could have intervened sooner, most like, but I opted not to. I wanted Xarissa hot for the next act, so I chose to let the scene play out. Besides, while Vette may have preferred the top position, being the down for an exotic beauty like Xarissa wasn’t the worst thing.

The crowd had cheered itself hoarse by the time Xarissa lifted the enthralled Vette to her feet, using only her finger under the redhead’s chin. Vette’s nipples were rigid at this point and I suddenly intuited what was about to happen. The thrall was about to pierce Vette’s nipples.

“Before you go that route,” I said, “perhaps we could have a bit of verbal?”

Catamon rumbled. “You’ll verbal with me, Gar, and none other.”

“Fair enough,” I said. “This is such a fine digital that I’m inspired to throw my helmet in the ring. Before you let your joytoy javascript Vette’s nipples for perm, perhaps we could match first? I’ll put up double the funds with the conditional that if I win, Vette will be spliced to me as well for the remainder of her clock. Savvy”

Catamon bristled at my use of ‘joytoy’, as I’d hoped. He should have known better.

“So if you’re victorious over Xarissa, you will have both she and Vette?”

“Affirmative,” I nodded.

“And if Xarissa wins, she will have both you and Vette simultaneously?”

“Also affirmative.”

“Very well,” said Catamon. “I agree to your wager. Place the credits in the bowl.”

I did so, then turned around to face Xarissa. To my surprise, her eyes were already locked on mine.

“When I defeat you, Gar, I want you to know one thing,” she said. “I will continue to use Vette’s body for my pleasure. You, on the other hand, will be pleasing Catamon. You will be pleasing him in every way you can. And after marking Vette as my conquest, you too will be marked.”

I smiled. “I guess that gives me something to look forward to, doesn’t it? Shall we begin?”

Catamon didn’t even give me a chance to get ready. He immediately opened the psi-link between us.

I nearly blinked. The sudden intensity of Xarissa’s psionic pressure against my mind caught me by surprise. Had this been a typical match, I might have lost it right then.

The problem for Catamon and Xarissa, however, was that this wasn’t a typical match and I wasn’t strictly playing by the rules. But I was fine with that, because neither were they.

I had realized that Catamon was using his psychic connection with Xarissa to boost his thrall whenever she got in trouble. So Vette hadn’t been just battling Xarissa. She’d been battling Catamon as well. And it’d worked for them, which was why Vette was standing there, her eyes glazed, Xarissa’s juices on her cheeks and chin.

Vette wasn’t javascripted to cheat. I, on the other hand, had no such reservations, as the willpower chem in my system—the one I’d acquired from Brother Ivan earlier—attested. And with my psionic willpower boosted, not only was I able to circumvent Xarissa’s defenses instantly, I was able to follow the psionic link from Xarissa’s brainpan to Catamon’s, catching them both almost simultaneously.

Catamon and Xarissa were finding out what happens when one attempts to take on a jacked-up mindwire in a psionic knife fight.

So was Vette, but I was pretty sure she wouldn’t mind.

The crowd around Catamon’s table was murmuring now, beginning to realize what had just happened. My street cred had amplified without losing clock. A profitable night. And looking at Xarissa and Vette, a fun night. At least for the next three hours.

A fun night for me. A typical night for the Black Hole.