The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“I am thinking about what to do with you, now,” said Mister Talv.

Sisyphus trembled slightly in the glass case, although no discernible thought crossed whatever was left of her mind. “There are new projects to be pursued,” he continued. “New ideas to be made flesh. New flesh, in fact. And for you, perhaps a new user. Of course, I doubt you will ever forget me.”

He unlocked the glass case and turned away. “Come here,” he said. “Heel.”

Nimetu was waiting. Sisyphus got down on her hands and knees, at her feet, and looked up at Mister Talv. From that vantage point, he seemed very tall.

“I have never marked you. Do you wish to be marked?”

To my surprise, Sisyphus shook her head. There must be some tiny vestige of Takeshi left there, I thought. I remembered the momentary flare of fear at Nimetu’s entertainment.

Mister Talv frowned. “I will ask again. Do you wish to bear my mark?”

The spark died. Sisyphus nodded. Yes. Yes. Yes.

“Everything is so high tech, these days,” said Mister Talv with a sigh. “Sometimes the old ways are better.” He stepped back, gesturing to Nimetu. She was holding something, but I couldn’t see what it was. Her heels were shiny and black. I could feel heat, from somewhere.

Without warning, Nimetu grabbed Sisyphus’s hair in one hand, and there was a swift movement, behind. Then suddenly all I could feel was a searing agony in the left buttock, overwhelming all other sensation. Sisyphus went rigid with shock. All other sensation vanished in a white hot pain. For the second time in my life, I nearly blacked out.

The Takeshis screamed as one.

Sisyphus squirmed to escape, vestiges of willpower sparking and guttering, but Nimetu was far too strong, and she bore down harder, pressing the brand in place. The stinging hurt only increased. I smelled singeing flesh. My flesh. Her flesh. And then, within a few seconds, it was over.

“Stand,” he said. Sisyphus stood, trembling. The pain was still almost unbearable. I saw the brand in Nimetu’s hands, red glow reflected in black. Her face, expressionless.

“There,” said Mister Talv. “Duly signed.”

The burning feeling wasn’t going away. The Innocent was starting to cry.

“Position,” said Mister Talv.

She automatically lay back, arms stretched behind her head, raised her knees, and spread her legs wide to receive him. Just echoing silence, and lust, and pain, and pleasure, and more pain, and no difference between them at all.

“No. Actually, I want to see you.” And then Sisyphus was as before, hands and knees. The pleasure and pain mingled, merged, and were one.

I wondered what his signature looked like.

Contact at last! As Mister Talv entered Sisyphus, I prepared to make my exit. The feeling of his hands on this body was such that I was tempted to wait … but that way lay danger. Madness. Dissolution. So without hesitation I waved to the Takeshis and -

“Waitwaitwait,” squeaked the Innocent, running up, babbling. “Please! You can’t leave us here. We will be lost!”

CyberTak was right up in my face. “No way. You’ve not leaving without us. #cutandrun.”

“I don’t mind,” breathed TakSlut, eyes closed, enjoying the thrust and push of him, deep inside.

I paused, conflicted. New feelings, rising. Strange—what was it, altruism? This wasn’t like me at all. But I wasn’t hanging around to go back in that glass case. Time was short, and there was nothing else for it—I reached out and grabbed the three of them, wrapped intangible arms around them, and then Contact I leapt -

- and I was suddenly looking out, through Mister Talv’s eyes, at the obedient, subjugated body of Sisyphus as she writhed beneath him. I saw the red mark of his brand, imprinted permanently in her left buttock, maybe three inches square.

I felt his pleasure in the act of using Sisyphus, of the coming to fruition of something he had begun a long time ago.

I felt the deeper pleasure he took in what he did, his art, and the certainty that he was giving pleasure, too, that he was giving people what they wanted. His utter conviction that you can never make anybody do anything they don’t want to do.

I felt his satisfaction, his grandiose pride, in his work. His high standards. His total self-confidence in his abilities. His invulnerability.

I felt Mister Talv’s certainty that he was the only true man left on earth, and his commitment. His unending uphill struggle in pursuit of an ever-receding goal.

I felt the strong cold wind of his own true desires. His aesthetic, ice on a lake.

I looked into the abyss of Mister Talv’s motivation and it looked right back at me.

His thoughts tasted like iron. I didn’t want to touch them if I could help it, because who knew what I might come away with?

And I knew I’d just acquired a whole new set of problems.

“Shut the fuck up,” I whispered. “He mustn’t know we’re here. Leave this to me, OK?”

The Takeshis nodded, as one, wide eyed. TakSlut raised a hand and covered her mouth. They were all still, now, staring apprehensively. They’d got the message, I thought. If he clocked that there were three demented Takeshis in his head, let alone me, it would not be pretty.

Mister Talv was not a person I wanted to be hanging around with for too long.

Of course, everybody’s different, so feel free to disagree.

Later, an unmarked red door. Familiar. A stunning blue-eyed woman, like a goddess from the tales of the deep North, right there at the bar. I’ve seen her before, here and elsewhere, and I drink in her cheekbones and her astonishing figure. Good Girl, I think.

“Tere õhtust, Katya,” he says, a familiar greeting.

“Good evening, Mister Talv,” Katya replies, smiling. She offers her cheek to him, and Contact—I know her, completely.

I am looking back at Mister Talv through Katya’s eyes. I can feel the attraction she has for him, the hold he has over her. I realise again that he is a very attractive man, tall and athletic, dark haired, intensely charismatic. He has his hand at the small of her back, as he slips into the seat next to her, and she shivers imperceptibly at his touch. TakSlut squeaks with delight. I shush her.

“Have you thought any more, about my suggestion? My offer?” he asks.

A shiver. Images flash: Good Girl on her plinth, at the Winter Party, on hands and knees, embracing her role, taking these anonymous men as deep as she can.

“Mister Talv,” she smiles, coolly, collected, although I can feel turmoil, too. “Why would I need such things? Such enhancements? Such … implants? I am all woman, and wish to stay so.”

“Of course,” he shrugs, grinning. His smiled turns her on. “And you could be even more woman than ever. Did you not like my performers?”

Images: Katya in role, raising her buttocks, angling herself expertly, drawing the cock’s full length into her. A double image: her point of view and mine, overlapping, merging. Good Girl had simple needs.

“Hmm,” murmurs Katya, and sips on a drink. “Were they real, like me? Am I not real enough for you, Mister Talv? Do you not feel you have enough control, already?” She was tough, Katya.

Images: across the room, the sudden shock of symmetry, as Katya stares at Sisyphus, down on all fours now, and sees her mounted by—ah, so that is where I came in -

“Of course.” Mister Talv shrugs, a gesture I cannot read. Astoundingly, I believe he respects this woman. “How could you not be perfect, beautiful Katya? Let us see.”

She nods, acknowledging, almost, but not quite, in control.

Images: later, after the party: the squeeze of a breast, the stroke between her legs. Katya, longing, uncertain, craving, a complex brew of emotions. His offer of enhancements; unknown bio-technology, of which I’d just had a taste that I’d never forget. The offer of a ‘permanent position’. The temptation and the doubt. She wants it, wants him. She fears it, fears him.

“And do you have plans, Mister Talv, for this evening?” she asks him. She is strong, independent. She is actually making the running, here.

Images: Room Seven, the best of the Club’s accommodation, a room where Katya has spent a great deal of time, and which is equipped for Mister Talv’s tastes.

“Naturally, I have plans. With you. For you.”

He was talking to Katya in Room Seven, while he tied the first rope around her wrist, but I didn’t catch it because I was still desperately trying to keep the three Takeshis quiet. I just remember his strong hands on her flesh, and the luscious feeling, for Katya, of the rope tightening, and him testing the knot until he was happy. Then the other wrist, as Katya held it out to him, compliant, offering herself to him. She moaned as he tied each loose end to a bedpost, and moaned more as she lay there, arms spread, secured. She enjoyed this, more than anything.

A moment later and he had tied both her ankles. She tugged at her bonds, part of the game, no doubt already knowing that the knots were strong, and that he had tied them well. And then, the thrill as Mister Talv began to run his hands over her helpless, spreadeagled body. Then the gentle stroke of his riding crop at her thighs.

Takeshi Slut was going into paroxysms of arousal. I could tell she felt right at home now.

“So, Katya,” said Mister Talv. “Always so controlled. In both senses of the word. What shall we do with you this evening?”

Katya knew full well this was a metaphorical question. I wondered again what I could offer Katya, this woman of the world, that she didn’t already know. I thought of Clara, and Takeshi, and the woman with the special gift, and of Katya’s cool self-control. I loaned her something, out of the goodness of my heart.

I felt her surprise and shock at the unexpected orgasm as he entered her for the first time. Katya cried out, her pussy muscles pulsing, as Mister Talv pushed deep. At the third, the fourth thrust, as she came again, I felt her fear at this sudden loss of control over her own body, and she bucked and thrashed underneath him, helplessly in the grip of uninvited, uncontrollable climax. Somewhere around the tenth orgasm, she threw back her head and screamed, flinging her head from side to side. Around the twentieth, she surrendered completely, and still it went on, and on.

This must be how it had felt to be Sisyphus, before the emptiness, I thought.

“My, Katya,” he said, a half smile on his face, as he untied her. “I’ve never known you quite like this. A most impressive display.”

I could feel the flush in her cheeks and the muscles in her belly twitching. “Mister Talv, I—”

She was shaken up, confused.

“I’m sorry I don’t have time for more, this evening. But yes, you have proven your point. All woman, indeed. I would very much like to see you, at my apartment, tomorrow night. There is someone I’d like you to meet.”

“Who?”

“A woman called Nimetu. You’ll find her very interesting, I believe.”

He kissed her once, on the forehead, almost tenderly, and then he left.

I was dumbfounded.