The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

She opened her eyes.

She suffered the usual moment of confusion, and stared blankly at the dust mouse that lay a few feet in front of her.. on the wooden floor..

Under her master’s bed. With that the world snapped into focus, and a tiny, almost inaudible, whimper escaped her lips. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her mind, but whenever she closed her eyes, instead of darkness she saw an endless chain of garish pinwheels, spinning, spinning.. She uncurled slowly from her position on the throw rug, and rose, her spine snapping and pinging. As she rose she pushed her long mass of curly black hair into some semblance of order.. no time now for a shower...

The master and his two other slaves were tangled up together in the soft wide bed, still sleeping. She looked at the two other girls wistfully for a moment, and was able, almost, for a split second, to feel a surge of jealousy passing through her system. Her gaze shifted to her assigned Master and the all-too-familiar burning sensation fired up in her cunt. He’d barely touched her so far..

Sobbing a little, she tore herself away and padded silently from the palatial bedroom in her bare feet. She had to get the master’s breakfast ready, or he’d be angry. The thought of a Master’s potential anger sent a spasm through her and she picked up the pace of her movements. One of her few distinct memories was of a time she had annoyed one of her previous Masters, and he had casually twisted her mind up into knots, leaving her for hours on the floor of an empty store room as slimy, multi-legged horrors crawled up out of her mind, slowly oozed across every inch of her smooth, dusky skin and slid in and out of every.. She closed her eyes (pinwheels), shook off the memory and hurried to the kitchen, the arousal still strong within her. She couldn’t remember which Master that had been now, or even what he’d looked like. Two or three back, now at least; she was being passed around to various Masters on a regular basis, and each one displayed varying levels of sadism. Her current Master was actually rather kind and easy-going, but she knew bleakly that she’d never be a privileged slave in his service, like the two lucky women in the bed. And her hot pussy so desperately needed to be wrapped around its Master’s cock...

She arrived in the kitchen, and began assembling breakfast. Like everything the Masters did, she knew full well there was a good reason for her current situation. She was being punished for something, and rightfully so, but the specifics of her crime had long faded away in her mind. As she deftly cracked eggs into a frying pan, she wondered for the first time in quite a while exactly what it was that she had done. She hadn’t actually defied the will of the Masters, had she? The thought was chilling, but after a bad moment she calmed down. She’d be dead if that had happened; she’d have killed herself even before the Masters could. No doubt she’d been lax in her duties. Although the thought of that possibility was almost as hideous. She deserved to be punished if that was her crime. She shuddered and stirred the eggs, waiting for the right moment to add the milk..

The doorbell rang. She bit her lip nervously, and hauled the eggs off of the flames. Scurried to the front door, grabbed the ‘decency robe’ from the hook and slipped it on. Looked through the peephole. It was a tall, blonde-haired, imperious-looking woman, her figure straining the long leather coat she wore. The slave flicked rapidly through the list of ‘approved’ people in her mind. The woman.. The Mistress.. was there. She scrabbled to unlock and open the door.

The Mistress looked at her through cold, narrow, eyes. The slave couldn’t help staring back for a moment. Something about the woman... She bobbed deferentially, eyes now downcast.

“Good morning, Mistress. The Master is still asleep.”

The Mistress frowned, sourly.

“Of course. Wake him, now.”

The slave’s stomach turned over queasily. Refusing an order from any of the Masters was literally physically painful, but her assigned Master had been very clear on this point.

“I- I’m sorry, Mistress, but the Master said that..”

The Mistress rolled her eyes.

“Oh, all right, I’ll do it myself. Get out of the way, you little fool.”

The slave shuffled aside, twisting the short robe in her hands, brown eyes still looking at the floor. The Mistress stormed past, her helmet of golden hair flaring around her head like an aura. The slave trailed after, automatically closing and locking the door and removing the robe. Her breasts goose-pimpled again upon hitting the cool morning air.

“Henry! Wake up!” The Mistress snapped from the doorway of the bedroom. The Master snorted, rolled over, looked at her through sleep-encrusted eyes. The black-haired slave fidgeted behind the Mistress, sliding her sweaty hands up and down her thighs, waiting for the worst..

“Wha? Who.. Dammit.. I told... Oh.” He sat up, carefully disentangling himself from the two women who still slept on either side of him. His body was incredibly hairy. Her head lowered, the slave stared up covertly at the black masses that covered his chest and arms, longing to run her hands, her tongue, her cunt, through it... He looked blearily at the Mistress and frowned. “I should have known.” He waved irritably. “Get outta here for a minute, Eliza, would ya, and let me get my pants on? Go play with whats’erface there.. the new girl.. she’s still on punishment detail. You of all people should get a kick out of that.”

“Oh?” The Mistress arched her sculpted eyebrows, and seemed to truly see the slave standing behind her for the first time. Even with her eyes pointed at the ground, the slave could feel that burning gaze roaming over her shapely figure. There was a long speculative pause. “What did she do?”

“I dunno.” The master yawned widely and stretched. “The usual. ‘Insisted’ that we recruit her by sticking her nose into Hierarchy business. I think she was a reporter or something.”

“Really?” The tone sent chills running down the slave’s spine. A long-nailed hand cupped under her elfin chin, sharply pulled up her head. She was looking into a pair of piercing blue eyes with a miniature thunderstorm swirling at the center of each. The slave stared back in horror. She would have screamed, if that was permitted.

Still holding the slave’s chin, the Mistress turned back to the Master. “I want this one. I’ll trade you..” she paused salaciously and smiled.. “..Veronica for her.”

“Veronica? Done.” The Master for the first time showing any interest in the conversation, didn’t hesitate for a second. The bottom dropped out of the slave’s stomach.

The Master cheerfully slapped the two girls on the rumps, one with each hairy paw.

“Wake up, girls.” The two girls woke up like they’d been switched on. Which basically was the case. They squealed in unison:

“MASTER!” and looked up at him with rapturous devotion, the awe and lust burning brightly in their eyes.

“Girls, you’re getting a new playmate today. Say goodbye to.. um.. oh yeah.. Louisa.”

The redhead and the voluptuous black woman turned towards the door and obediently chorused:

“Goodbye, Louisa.” Immediately their eyes returned to their Master. The Master spoke.

“Louisa, transfer all control to Eliza here.”

The world shifted around her.

Her Mistress turned back to her new property and smiled unpleasantly, dropping her hand away from her slave’s chin.

“Gather your things and wait for me by the front door.”

“Yes, Mistress.” She whispered, a tear running down her cheek. As she turned away, she heard her Mistress speak into the room beyond. “Now, Henry, about why I came. It’s that bastard Henderson, over in the Eastside. He’s plotting something again, I just know it. But I’m ready for him. And when he tries anything, you’re going to help me.”

An oddly familiar voice groaned. “Oh for Christ’s sake, Eliza. You’re not even gonna let me get dressed, are you? I swear, you’re so damn paranoid. I’m sure that if you just go talk to Henderson, you and he..” The voices cut off as she rounded a corner. She wondered fleetingly if Henderson was one of the other Masters, but the thought faded away and died. After collecting her few possessions, she stood silently by the front door and trembled, now wearing the short one-piece skirt that standard slave attire when going out in public. Like all clothing, it itched and scratched horribly. An unknown amount of time later, a vaguely familiar red-haired girl sauntered by, her naked body disappearing into a nearby doorway. Soon, cooking noises started emanating from somewhere.. eggs from the smell.. There must be a kitchen in there...

After what seemed like hours, her Mistress came into the hall, opening the door and stalking grimly out of the apartment without a word. The slave hurried after her, remembering to close the door behind them.

They were riding along in the back of her limo; cut off from the driver and the rest of the world by panes of thick tinted glass. Eliza took a sip from her glass, and coolly examined the black-haired woman who knelt shivering on the carpet before her. In her other hand she held the portable Reinforcer, its glowing pinwheel spinning slowly, throwing the usual blue and green shadows onto the slave’s face and into her mind.

“So, slave, you were spying on us, were you?”

“I.. I don’t remember, Mistress.”

“Crop.” The slave spasmed, feeling the invisible riding crop crack sharply against her skin. That was the first suggestion that Eliza always immediately implanted in her new slaves. Instructively painful, didn’t damage the merchandise in case of later transfer, and she didn’t have to lift a finger. She also always left the association buried deep in their minds after she passed them on to someone else in the Hierarchy. For the rest of their lives, if they ever happened to hear that word, they were reminded forcibly of their Mistress. The others, like dear simple-minded Henry, never did these things properly... If it weren’t for her (and, she was forced to admit, Henderson..) this branch of the Hierarchy would have stagnated years ago..

“If I tell you to remember, you remember, slave. If I tell you to forget, you forget. Understand?”

“I understand, Mistress.”

“Good. Answer the question.”

“Yes, Mistress. I was spying on you. I..” The girl struggled, her wide forehead creased as she stared into the Reinforcer’s light. Obviously the information had been buried deeply inside her. “..I was a reporter for... for.. some newspaper.. the Times, I think..” She began to sob. Eliza scowled with disgust.

“Oh, never mind, slave. It doesn’t matter which scandal sheet you scribbled for. So you were caught and programmed, were you?”

“Yes, Mistress. I was investigating all of those disappearances, and.. and I went to a warehouse to meet.. a man.. who claimed he could tell me where all of the women.. the slaves.. had gone... He.. he showed me..” the slave pointed mutely at the spiral she was staring into.

“Of course. What did he look like?”

“He was a short man, with greasy brown hair. He smelled.”

Eliza snorted with easy, familiar, disgust.

“Miller. That little worm.” She studied the slave critically for a moment. “At least he has some semblance of taste. His single redeeming feature. And who did your training?”

“Dr. Williams.”

For a moment, Eliza paused. “Doctor Williams. A pity about that.. He was a good man.. as men go. A true.. professional.” Her voice hardened. “But he’s gone now. And now we’re going to have some fun, you and I.” She smiled, a movement of lips with no humor whatsoever behind them. “Well, I’m going to have some fun.. And, slave, remember at all times, if you’d kept in your place, and waited until the Hierarchy recruited you, you’d have had a chance of living in bliss with a permanent master, like Henry’s two little playmates. Everything that happens here is your fault.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

A belated thought occurred to Eliza.

“After Doctor Williams programmed you, have you spent any time as the slave of man named Henderson?” The black-haired woman thought, obviously struggling against the standard memory-wipe that came on after each Master..

“No, Mistress. My first Master was Mr.. Tomelson.. then Ms. Yullins... then..”

“Crop. I didn’t ask for your life history, slave.”

“Yes, Mistress.. I- I mean.. no, Mistress. I’ve never been Mr. Henderson’s slave.”

“Pity... Hmm. Enough questions. Until we get to your new home, lick my shoes. Start at my shoes, and work your way up. Slowly. We’ve got to get that lovely little forked reporter tongue of yours trained, so it can maybe someday lick more important things...” The slave sank down and began running her tongue slowly over the expensive leather.

They were met at the door by six slaves, each wearing a skimpy garment that was half underware, half uniform. They stood in a row, eyes downcast. Eliza ignored them as she stalked by, then paused and snapped her fingers in remembrance. The new slave stumbled to a surprised halt behind her, carefully clutching the large pile of paperwork that had been thrust on her as they had left the limo.

“Oh, of course. Veronica. Look at me.”

The slave in question lifted her limpid eyes, her pale skin flawless beneath her waves of soft brown hair.

“Veronica. You remember Henry Harper, don’t you?”

“Yes, Mistress.” Her soft voice was poetry, music.

“Transfer all control to Henry. Gather your things and go to him in the limo.”

Veronica gave a brief curtsey and hurried off, eager to be re-joined with her Master. (A rapidly fading corner of her mind whispered that it would be wonderful to escape her Mistress as well...) Eliza scooped up the phone by the door and punched a button. After a short pause:

“George? This is Ms. Fairborn. Have the limo back out front immediately. Take the girl waiting there over to Mr. Harper’s apartment.. Yes. Correct, George.” She hung up the phone, looked over at Louisa.

“You, the new one. Come with me. The rest of you, get back to work.” An almost subliminal tremor of relief passed through the other slaves, and they scattered.

The room was made out of stone, or a reasonable facsimile thereof. Metal shelving lined the walls, filled with various.. implements, most of which the new slave didn’t recognize. Those that she did.. her stomach lurched again, and a helpless sense of doom washed over her. The Mistress lowered herself regally into the high-backed chair in the middle of the room, and crossed her long legs. Their tight leather coverings squeaked as she did so.

“Put those reports there on that table... That’s right. Before I get down to some serious fun, I want to see if Dr. Williams was up to his usual high standards with you. Fix me a martini, slave.” She idly ran a long fingernail down her own leg. “Oh.. and start getting hot. Every time you obey one of my orders, you get hot and wet. Down there. You know what I mean.”

“Yes, Mistress.” The slave hurried across the room to the nearby bar, and began assembling the drink, trying not to let the fire and dampness of her naked sex overwhelm her. After a few moments of combining and shaking, she picked up the glass and began to pour from the tumbler.

The world turned around her.

In mid-motion, she paused, blinked (endlessly spinning) and glanced at Eliza out of the corner of her eye. The blonde-haired woman was rapidly scanning through the pile of reports and scowling, making an occasional savage notation in red ink. Louisa finished pouring, returned the tumbler to the bar. She casually swiped a hand through her long hair, and a small white capsule appeared between her fingers, as if by magic. She rubbed it briskly between her fingertips, and it crumbled into the filled martini glass. The powder fizzed silently and vanished into nothingness almost instantly. She carefully carried the drink to the woman in the char.

“Good, slave. Now down on your knees.” Louisa knelt down quietly on the hard stone floor. Watching. Her dripping pussy redoubled its demanding screams, as per orders, but her eyes were suddenly cool and focused.

Eliza drank the drink.

Eliza took another sip of the martini and arched an eyebrow again. Not bad at all. Finish these, and then... She stared at the report, and frowned. Suddenly the words had gone blurry. She blinked sharply, and shook her head. Better, but only for a moment. The whole page slowly and irreparable melted into a white haze. She felt woozy, light.. almost as if she was slowly floating up off of her chair... suddenly it was impossible to concentrate. The room (what room where was she) was spinning slowly around her. Something pulled the glass and pen and report from her nerveless fingers, and her hands fell uselessly to her leather-clad lap. What was going on... How.. NO...

Someone grabbed ahold of her head, holding her chin in a gentle but vise-like grip. A finger came in towards her staring eyes and deftly lifted out and flicked away the contacts ... the contacts that prevented... something... from happening...

“Eliza. Look here.” Her balloon-light head was released.. The voice was somewhere near by... She looked around, confused.

Then she saw it, hanging right before her blurring eyes. The Spiral. It was the most wondrous thing she’d ever seen, spinning green and blue, and going down. Down. Down forever. She fell into the Spiral, multi-colored pinwheels flowering and pulling her down deeper and deeper as a voice talked to her, a kind friendly voice. Down she went, deeper and deeper.

Suddenly an ugly iron barrier swelled up in front of her, and her descent slowed to a halt. She remembered now her self-conditioning, hours of staring into the spiral while listening to her own recorded voice in a locked room... She resisted, started to climb back out of the depths. A set of gentle fingertips stroked her neck in an odd fashion, the voice spoke a word, and the barrier trembled, shattered. She was swept back down, deeper and ever deeper, as the nice friendly voice, the voice she trusted implicitly, explained things, made everything so clear..

At the sound of the doorbell, Louisa dropped the Reinforcer and hurried out of the stone room, wild happiness bubbling up inside her. The other slaves stood, or sat, quietly where she had herded them using the Reinforcer..(Except Veronica, unfortunately, who had wasted no time in making her escape, and was presumably at this moment wallowing joyfully in her new Master’s embrace.) After so many months of confusion, of pain, of lies, of serving a series of wretched false ‘masters’, everything was clear again. So clear. Her mission had been a success, and now her true Master was here, in answer her prayers and her feverish telephone call. His Miller mask and his Williams mask torn away at last. The man who had introduced her to her wondrous new life of slavery, first shown her the Spiral that glorious day in the warehouse, and personally trained her how to please and give pleasure, how meekly serve the other Masters on one hand and glibly lie to them on the other.. it was so easy now to flash back to wonderfully endless hours in front of the Spiral in a locked room, fingering herself and listening to her Master’s voice, only to her Master’s voice..

She breathlessly unlocked and opened the door. Her Master. She stepped up to him, her eyes shining with lust and awe, pressing her firm breasts into the front of his suit. They kissed, endlessly, his powerful lips burning hers, his large smooth hands leaving streaks of pleasure down her back as they moved across her naked flesh. Breaking off the kiss, his mouth came around and whispered the words of power and mastery into her ear. Her head snapped back and she helplessly came and came and came, shuddering like the puppet she was as the pinwheels exploded in her eyes and in her brain again and again..

Henderson smiled down at his lovely weapon as she twitched limply in his arms. It had all been so easy, killing two birds with one stone. As soon as he had become aware of Louisa Sniderman’s snooping around the edges of the Heirarchy’s operation, he knew that Eliza wouldn’t be able to resist snapping up the ex-reporter once she got passed around to within range of her claws.

And now he had a new slave waiting for him. A tall, ripe, golden-haired slave with blue eyes that had fiery, burning, pinwheels spinning forever at their centers, instead of thunderstorms. His penis gave a new, stronger, twitch; both it and he had been waiting a long time for this day.

Yes, he had a new slave to finish training. He also had total control of the city’s Hierarchy. From here, he and his two favorite slaves, his little raven-haired spy and his ‘little’ blonde executive assistant, would soon all have ‘accidents’ and follow Williams up into the National Hierarchy, whatever that turned out to be... He smiled again, remembering Louisa’s message, and wondered if Harper would stop screwing that wench Veronica long enough to even notice..

He stepped into his new apartment, closed the door, and took possession of his new toy. The former Mistress’s slaves stood quietly in the stone room, listening to the ecstatic feminine cries from the bedroom next door as Eliza and Louisa together rose higher and higher, and plunged deeper and deeper...

Click. The surveillance shot of the threesome in Eliza’s rather garish bed faded slowly away on the monitor.

Henry dropped the remote onto the covers, and leaned back thoughtfully. So, as expected, Eliza was out of the game.. or had been reduced to the status of a pawn, which amounted to the same thing. And Henderson would undoubtedly ask Louisa, or Eliza, or one of Eliza’s former slaves... to pour him a drink some time soon... Or prepare him some food.. Or.. something..

Yes, the last few days had been difficult, but everything was going according to plan. He glanced disinterestedly into the corner, where Irene, Michelle, and a Second-Stage Reinforcer were efficiently cleaning all of Eliza’s crude little kinks and booby traps out of Veronica. Riding crops. Really. Henry shook his head in disgust.

His mind turned back to the plan. He’d been very skeptical when it had first been proposed. He’d thought even Henderson couldn’t be this dumb.

But Louisa, clever little Louisa, had been right. Henderson was that dumb, leaping at the chance to enslave the nosy young ‘reporter’ who was dangled so conveniently and enticingly in front of his nose. When Henry and Louisa shared absolute control of the city’s Hierarchy between them, and when he undid the intense programming installed in Louisa so she could play her current role with the necessary conviction, he’d apologize to her for ever doubting her. And for making her sleep on the rug when she happened to get passed around to him while on punishment detail..

He’d apologize several times. He smiled.

Of course, it might not prove to be 100% necessary to remove.. all.. of her commands. Or maybe he’d just edit out a few memories..

It wouldn’t be hard to do. After all, Louisa hadn’t originally thought that using herself in the role of her ‘reporter’ was such a hot idea.

But she had come around.

In the end.