The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Slave Simone watched the last moments of her daughter’s enslavement, struck with awe. Without slave 251 in the way, she could see all of her daughter’s naked body. She was beautiful. She was a slave. She had been enslaved! Slave Simone’s lower body was on fire. Yes! She’s a slave! She’s Mistress’s property now!

Suddenly all she could think about was all the ways Cora would be used now. She would be fucked by so many people. She would be their whore, and take them in all her holes, and dance for them, and kneel for them. She was a sex toy. She was a lap servant. She was property. She was a slave!

“Slave Simone,” Mistress said, pulling her from her perfect thoughts into an even more perfect reality. “Your daughter has become my slave. You deserve a reward for presenting her to me so eagerly. You may come.”

The orgasm crashed over her like a wave capsizing a ship. She was on the floor, screaming and convulsing, hands between her legs, pressing down against the unimaginable pleasure in an instinctive attempt to make it bearable. It was more than she could take. She would pass out. Her body was exploding in a firework of a million stinging, prickling points of pleasure and warmth and impossible joy.

”Ohgodyes!” she moaned. I just came on command! Mistress had made her come!

“Thank you!” she whimpered what felt like minutes later, when she finally came down from it. She felt like her whole body was glowing with joy. She had come for mistress. She had obeyed. She had enslaved Cora. Oh God, yes! Slave Cora! What about—

“Hallo, Mama.”

A deep moan of pleasure escaped out of her when she heard the voice of what used to be her daughter. With just those two words, it was clear: Cora was gone.

Slave Simone turned herself around and looked at the naked sweaty slave that was kneeling on the floor with spread legs, slowly—confidently—stroking her stubbly pussy. The arched curve of her body, taut with youth and shivering with the pleasure of obedience; her naked skin, smooth and glossy from the fullness of her breasts down to the folds between her legs, just begging to be touched and tasted;

her face, caught in an expression of defiant, almost selfish joy. A transcendental piece of art, titled “obedient object”.

Slave Cora!

Yesss!

“Mistress,” said the slave that had been Cora, stroking herself harder. It was just one single, beautiful word, and yet it was enough to express everything that her daughter had become. Slave Simone could see the need and thrill in her eyes. The thrill of a slave starving, bursting, shivering with the need to obey. She’d never seen her this happy.

Mistress smiled, and slave Cora’s face lit up with something that fitted her face far better than happiness: Lust. She looked at Mistress as she proclaimed the truth that slave Simone had so eagerly watched being raped into her:

“I am nothing but a slave. I am your property. I will obey, Mistress!”

Then she turned to the slave that had been her mother and said, smiling:

“Cora ist vorbei. Ich bin nichts als ne hörige Sklavin—willig und feucht und gehorsam.”

Slave Simone gasped, overwhelmed by the perverse beauty of what she had just been told. Cora is gone. She’s nothing but a slave—eager and wet and obedient.

Good.

“Danke,” slave Cora sighed, looking deeply into slave Simone’s eyes, and somehow the word was the most sexual thing she had ever hear her say. She didn’t know how to respond to something that beautiful and perfect. Slave Cora didn’t need her to say anything. She was obviously more than happy just getting herself off as her mother and Mistress watched.

“Jaaaah,” she moaned loudly as she stroked her engorged clit. “Ja… ich bin Sklavin… Sklavin… Ich gehorche! Ich… Ich… fuck! JA! Nichts mehr als… oh Gott, ja! …nichts mehr als eine willige Sklavin! Slavin! Fuck! Fuck ja! Yes! Yes! Nothing but a slave! Mistress! Mistress! I will… I will… oooohhhh!”

With a guttural scream, her obedience overwhelmed her and slave Cora came for her Mistress. She came for herself; for being a slave. For being nothing but property. She came in the face of everything she had been, to spite it and denounce it and undo it. She came, thinking lovingly about all the ways she would obey that she had never wanted, and had been made to crave like a drowning woman craved air.

She said none of those things.

But slave Simone knew.

When slave Cora’s spasms of pleasure were over, Mistress commanded them both to stand, and they happily, eagerly, obeyed. Their minds were blissfully circling around their own obedience as they stood naked in front of the woman that owned them.

“Kiss her, slave Cora,” Mistress said, and slave Cora laid her arms on slave Simone’s shoulders, smiling, looking deeply into her eyes before burying her tongue in her mouth. Slave Simone pulled slave Cora in, felt her warm flesh against hers, and lost herself in the exquisite perversion of finding this hotter than any sex she had ever had. Her daughter’s mouth was warm and wet against hers, and slave Simone could only think about what else that mouth could do. Cora was a slave. Her mouth was for sucking and licking and saying that she obeyed.

“Good,” Mistress said after a lifetime of hot, wet lips. “Stop.”

They obeyed and their kiss ended, for now.

“Thank you,” slave Cora whispered when she pulled away her lips, loud enough to ensure that Mistress would hear it.

“Good girls.” Mistress said, and both slaves shivered with the joy of being hers.

“Now,” Mistress continued, “Moving along with the agenda… Slave Cora: Tell me all about Iris. What did you two do together, so carelessly rummaging around in you father’s dirty laundry? Who is she?”

Slave Cora was confused for a moment. She had completely forgotten about Iris, because—like everything else about her former life—Iris had become completely irrelevant to her, if not something she felt actively hostile towards remembering.

She looked at Iris, who was still mindlessly entranced at the end of an inducer. She felt nothing for her. Their friendship didn’t amount to shit next to her obedience. If anything, she felt a simmering need to see Iris stripped naked and raped and enslaved, too. Yes. That would be hot. But it was up to Mistress. All she could do was hope.

“She’s nineteen,” she said, as if she was describing a used car, “She’s half a year older than me. Her Father is a coworker of my father’s.”

She glanced at her father, who was just as deeply hypnotized as the pretty blonde next to him. He looked pathetic, and he reminded her unpleasantly of the time she hadn’t been a slave. She grimaced, then turned her attention back to Iris.

“She saw the same pictures and documents I saw. We were snooping in my father’s files together. It was my idea to break into the computer in the first place, but she was the one that discovered the files.”

Her voice caught slightly when she realized that she herself had started all this. If she hadn’t broken into her father’s computer, she wouldn’t be a slave now. She would never have seen her mother fuck herself to the idea of it. She would never have even known that she had to be used. She would never have known her Mistress, and never have become her property.

The relief and gratefulness she felt was something she was sure she would never be able to put into words, but she knew she would show it every time she let herself be used.

“Continue, please,” Mistress said, and slave Cara almost tripped over her words in her hurry to make up for her wandering mind.

“She goes to the same private school I do. Classes are in English. Some international students, but mostly German. She has about seven to ten friends she sees regularly, and maybe twice again that many that she sees once every few months from what I know.

“She can keep a secret but she’s righteous, and this isn’t something she would ever keep quiet about. If you hadn’t abducted us, she would probably have told her parents or law enforcement by now.”

“Good. Tell me about what kind of person I’m going to enslave,” Mistress said, smiling, and slave Cora smiled with her. She could feel the hairs on her skin stand up with a pleasant feeling of frisson, mixed with arousal. She had hoped for this.

“She’s willful and loyal,” she said. “She’s smart but has little interest in Academia. She prefers having experiences over having things, and being active over being creative. She’s had three boyfriends, but only had sex with the most recent one. Her type is handsome but slightly unkempt and not too tall, because she doesn’t like feeling physically intimidated. She’s easily worried and hard to impress. She judges people too soon, and is difficult to persuade once she’s set her mind a certain way. She dreams of visiting Europe. She loves going to concerts and clubs. She plays the guitar but isn’t very good at it. She loves cats, but her parents never got her one.”

She went on for a while. She watched Mistress smile as she laid open everything she knew about Iris. She guessed that this was a game that Mistress liked to play with her prey.—like making Cora watch her mother’s enslavement, or letting slave Simone decide how her daughter would serve. Slave Cora was more than happy to play along. She was Mistress’s plaything, and it made her hot to be toyed with like this.

“Very good, slave,” Mistress said, and if slave Cora had been a cat, she would have purred. Her pussy burned with the need to be touched. She kept still. Some deep part of her instinctively understood that fucking herself when she’d woken up as a slave had been the one and only time she’d been allowed to by her own choice.

Yes. It made her crave obeying Mistress even more. She needed to obey. Mistress would allow her to cum. Mistress was the only one that could. Oh God, yes! She was such a deeply controlled little slut for obedience! She was so eager and wet for it that it almost made her crazy.

“Now, slave Simone—”

“—yes, Mistress!”

“Continuing with the fun we’re having with this: You don’t need to tell me anything about Tom, my toy,” Mistress said, approaching the handsome man that Simone used to fuck. “Except for how you feel about him.”

Slave Simone hesitated for just a moment. There was a moment when all kind of different thoughts and feelings warred in her, and she thought that it would be very complicated to explain to Mistress. But the moment passed, and her mind happily settled on something very simple:

“He means nothing to me,” she said, smiling thinly. “Do whatever you want with him. I don’t give a fuck.”

Mistress laughed musically, and slave Simone moistened. She loved her so much. Her approval was like slick fingers generously stroking her needy lips. Nothing could be better than being like this.

“And what about the junior toy?” Mistress asked, grinning as she brushed a lock of golden hair from her forehead.

Slave Cora chuckled, and stepped closer to her father.

“I pity him,” she said, slowly striding around the entranced man like a model on a catwalk, “I think he’s pathetic. Look at you, Papa. You’ve lost everything. Your wife and your daughter are gone. Their Mistress took them from you because you were too stupid to protect them. I’m so glad you failed to protect me from this, Papa.”

She turned back to her Mistress, looking almost solemn, like she’d had an insight.

“Yeah. I suppose I have been enslaved to still want things” she said slowly and thoughtfully, almost as if to herself, “Even

if I’m nothing more than an object to be used.”

She looked at Mistress with wide, sincere eyes and a careful smile.

“And what I’d want most is this: Before you make him forget, or before you make him suck wealthy dicks in fancy back rooms, or before you make him have an unfortunate accident… Whatever you do to him—and I don’t give a fuck what you do to him—I hope he gets to see me like I am now. I want him to see that his daughter is a slave, and that you own her.”

Slave Simone felt a great warmth swell inside of her, and she couldn’t tell if she was proud or just incredibly turned on.

Mistress chuckled.

“Silly slave. I wouldn’t have made that happen no matter what the fuck you wanted. Good girl. You’re very much everything I’d hoped for.”

Slave Cora gasped with joy, visibly shivering.

“Slaves without numbers are much more fun to play with, because they play along,” Mistress said casually, and slaves Cora and Simone arched their backs proudly by instinct. “They’re eager and forthcoming and adaptive in ways my numbered dolls can never hope to be. But I do need them, too. They’re easier to sell, easier to reprogram, easier to maintain by their owners. Plus, there something that’s just so delicous about those empty eyes.”

She licked her lips, and both her two newest slaves imagined being the ones to moisten them instead. They knew that Mistress would use them, probably sooner than later. If they were lucky, she would even let them fuck her.

“It would have been a special thrill to see your eyes empty like that, slave Cora,” Mistress continued, “But your mother wanted you to be just as eager and wet for being a slave as she is, and honestly, I’m with her on this.”

She strode past them, gently dragging her finger across their cleavages, and they both shivered and gasped from her touch. She stopped when she was standing behind to Tom and Iris.

“You’ll get your wish with your father soon enough, but there’s another Material to be converted before then,” she said. She stepped next to Iris and gently felt up the entranced girls tits from behind her. Iris didn’t react as Mistress dragged her hands over her chest, softly squeezing. Her mind was sedated by the lights dancing in her eyes.

“This one definitely needs to be a number, though.” Mistress said. “I have a client in Antigua who commissioned a girl just like her. She’s young and hardly used. She’ll fetch a good price.”

“What about her family? If she disappears, they’ll—”

Mistress raised her hand, and slave Cora stopped dead. Mistress didn’t look angry; It was the only thing that kept slave Cora’s eyes from watering out of sudden shame.

“Your concern honors you, slave Cora—but I will never need your opinion again unless I ask it.”

Slave Cora smiled as if she’d been given the most wonderful compliment of her life.

“Yes Mistress,” she said, glowing with relief and satisfaction. She knew that she was nothing but a worthless piece of property. She was only good to be used. She was a slave. It was so good.

“Is her English good enough to understand what we’ll program her with?”

“Yes, Mistress. She is a native English speaker,” slave Cora said, happy to have properly obeyed this time.

“Good,” Mistress said without even a moment of pause. “Slave two-fifty-one, enslave this Material; Protocol Delta.”

“Yes Mistress,” said slave 251, and went to work. She plugged the vibrator control cables into the inducer that already had Iris’s mind under control, and started deepening her trance into submissiveness. Iris almost immediately began to mouth after the slave, falling deeper, becoming suggestible and pliant.

These are her last moments, slave Cora realized. Or maybe, she thought, her last moments already happened an hour ago, when the inducer first caught her. It didn’t matter. That was the whole point: Nothing of what Iris thought or felt would ever matter again. The thought made Cora’s pussy tickle pleasantly.

“Slave Simone,” Mistress said. “Why don’t you return to the place you belong and lick my cunt as your daughter and I watch Iris become my slave? Show my what you remember.”

“Yes, Mistress,” slave Simone gasped, already on her way to her knees. Mistress stepped up to her, lifting the split hem of her dress to present a shaved, visibly wet pussy. Slave Simone crawled forward, disappearing under the fabric.

Even a glimpse of Mistress’s pussy had been enough to take slave Cora to the edge of climax. In that moment, the desire to worship between the legs of the woman that owned her felt greater than her desire to breathe.

“You will service me, too, slave Cora, don’t worry,” Mistress said as if she’d been able to read her mind. “I’ll use you plenty. You’ll—mmmhhh… ooh yes just there slave Simone. Good girl!”

Slave Cora watched attentively. Her pussy was moist again. It had been moist the whole time. She was always so wet and ready, now.

“You are a prize slave, Cora,” Mistress said, panting, wheezing, “That body. That face. That energy. I could sell you for ten times the money I sold your mother for. But you’re mine. I want you.”

Slave Cora gasped with barely restrained pleasure. She felt so close to orgasm.

“You will spend your days licking my cunt, and your nights whoring for me. You’re welcome,” Mistress said with a smile, then suddenly moaned and gasped from what slave Simone was doing with her tongue beneath Mistress’s dress. She reached into the worshipping slave’s hair and pushed her deeper into herself, momentarily enraptured by the pleasure her slave was lucky enough to give her.

“Thank you, Mistress,” slave Cora said quietly, almost to herself, her voice little more than a tiny whisper; there were tears of joy sparkling in her eyes.

“You may watch Iris be enslaved,” Mistress said in a pause between deep moans of pleasure, “Pleasure yourself as you do. She used to be your friend.”

Used to. The thought drove into her like a cock or a tongue she’d been craving for hours.

“Yes, Mistress,” slave Cora whimpered, and her fingers finally—finally—followed her thoughts to the moist, needy place between her legs, at the center of her being. She needed to come. It was unbearable. She had to come. She had to obey. Yes! Yes! Obedience was pleasure. Pleasure was obedience.

She turned away from Mistress, hungry for the sight of Iris.

The blonde girl was already stripping when Cora’s needy gaze found her. Her eyes were empty. No fight, no opinion, no thoughts. Cora thought of everything Iris was and plunged her fingers into her cunt as she watched her be erased.

She came instantly. Her finger pressed against her clit, and it was like setting off an avalanche. Pure pleasure erupted from the burning, throbbing obedience at her core and she screamed. It was joy and pride and lust and purpose and impossible relief. This was everything she wanted. Obey and cum and serve and cum! She felt herself reel, and almost tumble, as—somewhere—her body kept itself on her feet. Everything was raw, electric joy, and she was at the center of it—enslaved and obedient.

Fuck yes! It wasn’t stopping! It was still going! She felt something squeeze her tits and realized that it was her own hand, and she pressed down harder on her tingling, sensitive nipples, and it was like another radiating star in a bursting sea of light.

She’d never felt this good. Pleasure and pain smeared into each other in a fire of intense sensation, but she didn’t stop. The wonderful prickling agony only meant that she was obeying, hard. She bit down on the pain and kept going, obeying what she had been commanded to do. Pleasure herself. Fuck herself. She had to obey. Obeying was better and more important than anything else.

She was so lucky.

She kept going, and so did Iris.

Slave 251 told the blonde to lie down and spread her legs, and Iris obeyed. Slave Cora watched her how she mindlessly followed every command, watched how she continued to tonelessly repeat slave 251’s suggestions, watched her make a small, surprised sound when slave 251 penetrated her ass and her pussy, plugging the vibrators into the Material’s body.

Slave Cora watched Iris be enslaved, furiously masturbating to the sight of it, already close to cumming again. Iris’s body was so tight and slim, and her breasts were full, with large pink nipples. She was seeing her fully naked for the first time. She was fucking hot. She would make such a good sex slave. Slave Cora already pictured her kneeling in front of the

man she’d be sold to, ready to bend of over and take him from behind, serving, obeying.

It set her off again. She didn’t stop. She wouldn’t stop until Iris was a slave.

Two orgasms later, a slave that had been standing by passively sprang into life at 251’s command. She produced a metal band that she proceeded to tighten around Iris’s head, and plugged a cord into the inducer, something that hadn’t happened to either Cora nor Simone.

“Formatting harness in place, slave251,” she reported, then returned to her post.

Slave Cora cooed softly. This was what will make the difference between Iris, but enslaved, and a slave without a name, she realized, and a spike of pleasure rocked her body.

Iris wouldn’t be gone like Cora. No. That was only a metaphor; Cora was still there, wanting to obey, wanting to be fucked and controlled and to be used, unlike she used to be. Saying that she was gone was just a pleasant way of expressing how different she’ d become.

Iris on the other hand would literally be gone—her memories and identity taken from her, leaving only the parts of her that were of value: a naked body, and a naked mind that could only obey!

Nothing but a mindless slave.

Slave Cora came again.