The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

In hindsight, it all started when the pretty girl with pink and white streaks in her hair spilled her glass over Bonnie’s lap.

Bonnie yelped in surprise, almost letting go of her bottle of pseudo-German lager, while Carrie—seated next to her on the pub bench—quickly pushed herself away from the scene of the crime.

“Oh, God! I’m so sorry!” The girl deposited her near-empty glass on a handy table, and grabbed a fistful of paper napkins. “I’m such a klutz!” She swabbed at Bonnie’s soaked jeans leg, and at the puddle on Bonnie’s table that was dripping over the edge.

Bonnie pulled a handkerchief from her purse and joined in the clean-up effort. After a minute or so of intensive work, the two of them had managed to soak up the worst of the mess.

“If it helps, it’s only lime and soda water,” the clumsy girl offered, dumping the soaked napkins and replacing them with a fresh batch. “It shouldn’t smell. But I’m really sorry! I’m an idiot.” Her face contorted, and Bonnie thought she might be about to cry.

“Oh, honey, nobody died. These things happen.” She patted the girl’s arm. “Sit down with us for a bit.”

“Are you sure?” The girl gave them a hopeful look. Finding nothing but honesty there, she relaxed a little. “Look, the least I can do is buy you both a drink.” As the pair hesitated, she pushed a little. “It would make me feel better.”

“Okay, then. I’ll have another of these Lowenbrau things. Carrie?”

“WCKD green chili, if y’all please.” Carrie caught Bonnie’s look. “What?”

“I can’t believe you drink that stuff. You’re practically a European already.” Bonnie turned back to the girl. “There you go, a Lowenbrau and a WKCD please.”

“Coming right up!” The girl disappeared into the crowd in the general direction of the bar.

Carrie peered over the table. “How badly did she nail you? Do you wanna go back to the hostel to change?”

Bonnie sniffed at her jeans. “It ain’t too bad—she was right, it doesn’t really smell. It’s just damp. I’ve danced with worse.”

Carrie laughed. “Not that that excuses your dancing!”

Bonnie took mock offense. “Excuuuuuuse me? Which of us actually made the cheer squad?”

“It was JV, and only for one year, Bonbon. And you know it!”

Bonnie aimed a kick under the table but was stymied by the complex ironwork bracing underneath there. “I’ll get you for that.”

“I’m sure... Oh, here she is.” Carrie waved to the girl, who was clasping two bottles in one hand and a highball glass in the other, head turning left and right in an apparent attempt to relocate the two women.

She threaded herself through the pub crowd and flumped onto the chair next to Bonnie. “Lowenbrau and WKCD, ladies. And, again, my apologies.”

“Accepted!” Bonnie raised her bottle to the girl. “I’m Bonnie, this here is Carrie.”

“Sophia, and it’s lovely to meet you. I’m sorry about the circumstances!” The girl sipped at her glass. “You’re not from round here, are you?”

The two women laughed. “How’d you tell?” smirked Bonnie. She pointed at Carrie: “She’s from an Okie farm town that’s about ten square miles, and twenty square people.”

“I resemble that remark.” Carrie pointed back at Bonnie. “She’s the sophisticated one; from a bustling metropolis that might break 20,000 people when the rodeo comes to town. We went to high school together.”

“Now we’re about to be seniors in college,” Bonnie agreed, “and we thought we’d go look at good ol’ England before we start next year with all the really hard courses.”

“Okie?” Sophia was apparently struggling to keep up.

“Oklahoma,” explained Bonnie, and then Carrie joined in, piping “...where the wind comes sweepin’ down the plain...”

“Never met Hugh Jackman there, though,” sighed Bonnie.

Sophia looked a little bemused, but rallied. “How long have you been here—and what do you think of London?”

“Three weeks,” Carrie admitted, “and... it’s a cute city, but your summer weather is pretty darn different from ours. Do you guys ever, you know, actually see the sun directly, instead of behind clouds?”

“I don’t miss the Oklahoma summer temperatures though,” Bonnie snarked.

“Right. But you guys do have so much old stuff to look at! We toured the Tower of London yesterday, for instance.”

“I’m almost sure it was one of those damn ravens that took a dump on my bag.” Bonnie touched her bottle to Sophia’s glass. “But here’s to your city, it’s been a fun time.”

“Thank you!” Sophia sipped at her drink. “I’d love to visit the States properly, some day. I went to Washington when I was a kid, but don’t remember much of it.”

“Oh, you should totally come to Oklahoma City, honey. You’d just love it.”

The two Okies held it together for a few seconds after Carrie’s assertion, then burst out laughing. Sophia joined in.

“You’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?”

“Not sure exactly what you mean by that,” Bonnie admitted, “but OKC would not be first on my list of tourist destinations. Less’n you like sitting in traffic, and sweatin’ like a sinner in church.”

The girls chatted for another hour, replacing their drinks a couple of times. Eventually, Sophia glanced at her Apple watch, and Carrie picked up the hint.

“Sorry, we’re keeping you hostage, aren’t we? Don’t worry, if you’ve got somewhere to go, we won’t be bent outta shape.”

“Thanks, it’s just that I promised my friend that I’d go hear her play at a club—actually, do you want to come along? They have great live music, and it’s not that far from here.”

Bonnie and Carrie exchanged looks, then chorused “We’d love to!”

“What kind of music?” Carrie asked, feeling for her pocket guide to London.

“My friend’s band does Nineties covers, mostly.” Sophia shrugged. “I don’t really remember the songs first time around, but I quite like some of the house and disco stuff.”

She drained her drink. “It’s about a mile from here—are you good with walking, or should we catch a bus?”

“Let’s walk,” Bonnie agreed. “It’s a nice evening, and we’ve just about got used to y’all’s crazy city layout.”

The three girls fell into an easy rhythm of walking as they headed out from the busy street stuffed with eateries and pubs. As Sophia led them through side streets, the noise of the people and traffic mostly faded away, and they could hear the quieter background noises—an above-ground Tube train rattling along a few streets away, and the drone of the last few planes coming in across the city to land at Heathrow airport. There was still a moistness in the air from the late afternoon rain, but the clouds were starting to clear.

“How long have you lived in London?” Carrie asked, ducking under a small tree that leaned out from the townhouse frontage they were passing.

Sophia looked thoughtful. “Maybe eight years? I came here for work after uni—sorry, you guys would call it ‘college’, I think.” She gestured around them. “Kinda fell in love with it, there’s always so much to do and so many people to meet.”

They exited the back streets into a busier road, and Sophia directed them to the right.

“It seems like the club has been here forever,” she remarked, “but it keeps changing name and owner. It’s hard to keep up.”

The trio squeezed themselves down a fairly narrow set of steps in front of a non-descript industrial building, and entered a short but wide tunnel where several other twenty-something partygoers were forming a loose line.

“I think it used to be a plastics factory,” Sophia explained, gesturing around them. “Presumably the pollution regulations after the London Great Smog killed it off, but it turned out to be a great place for music.”

They quickly reached the head of the line, and Sophia deftly nudged herself in front of Carrie to present money to the blank-faced woman handling entrance.

“My treat, ladies.” As Bonnie and Carrie started to protest, she shut them down: “It’s my friend playing—if she’s no good, it’s on me. If she’s really good, I’m sure her band will be collecting donations if you really want to reward her. Come on girls, let’s dance!”

The trio climbed the uneven steps back into the London night, and each gave a small gasp as the chill air suddenly hit their lungs.

“That was pretty darn good,” Bonnie admitted. “Your friend can sing, and how!”

“Amen,” Carrie confirmed, leaning against a handy—but damp—brick wall. “Girl, I am whacked.“

“Those were quite some moves,” Sophia commented, stretching. “Does everyone in Oklahoma dance like you?”

“Like Carrie? Only if they have a yellowjacket down their shirt.” Bonnie deftly dodged her friend’s snap kick, and laughed.

“You’re one to talk, Bon-Bon.” Carrie looked up and down the street. “Which way back? I’m awful with directions.”

“The pub where I met you is this way,” Sophia replied, pointing, “but I actually live not that far from here, and in the same general direction. Do you want a coffee or something?”

“Coffee?” Bonnie shivered a little. “That sounds darn good, in fact.”

“I’m with you,” Carrie agreed. “Thanks, Sophia. Lead on!”

The trio negotiated several turns through the quiet streets, walked for a while next to the railings of a city park, then Sophia led them down a turn to a row of townhouses.

“I haven’t really tidied up,” she admitted, fishing in her clutch for a key to the solid-looking door of the third house. “Don’t judge, girls.”

Sophia’s house was narrow in Oklahoman terms, but seemed to be surprisingly deep; the living room on the ground floor extended quite a way back from its window onto the road. Bonnie and Carrie gratefully pushed off their shoes and sank into the soft sofa that was conveniently positioned for them near a gas fire. Sophia disappeared into the adjacent kitchen with a promise to provide two coffees, milk, with sweetener.

“I thought Americans all drank soy milk?” she called from the kitchen, across the sound of running water.

“Dairy town, darlin’,” Bonnie explained, stretching her toes out. “Lactose intolerants don’t stay long in town.”

“Same with vegans,” Carrie observed. “Ain’t nothing on the local diner menu without meat or dairy in it. Even the vegetables. I wouldn’t be that shocked if’n they dipped steak in the ice water.”

“I’m a vegan, what do you recommend?” piped Bonnie, in a creditable attempt at a whiny East Coast accent.

“Ah recommend you git outa Oklahoma, lady,” replied Carrie, collapsing into giggles.

Sophia emerged with a steaming mug in each hand, carefully handing them off to her guests. “I’m sorry, it’s just Nespresso, but I think it’s still better than instant.”

Bonnie took a sip and gave a thumbs up. “Just right. Thank you, darlin’.”

“You’re not having one?” Carrie enquired, taking a long pull at her flower-covered mug.

“Oh, I can’t do caffeine in the evening,” Sophia admitted. “I have some green tea steeping. Bikkie?” She presented a small plate with several types of English biscuits artfully arranged on it.

“Ooohhh, I should say so.” Carrie snarfed up a Jammy Dodger. “You guys do the best cookies...”

Bonnie blinked awake. Where was she? There was what felt like a comfortable mattress beneath her, and she felt pleasantly warm. She stared blearily at the ceiling above her, a soothing pattern of swirls and curves swept into the plaster.

She half-heartedly tried to remember where she’d been. There was the pub, then the club—they’d gone back with that girl, what was her name...? Sophie? Sophia, that was it. There seemed to be several stretches of time missing from her memory.

She remembered being in a small bathroom, and blushing as poop rushed out of her butt. The smell had been quite something. Sophia, Sophia—she had been very nice, helped Bonnie upstairs, helped her dress...

Bonnie tried to move her arms, but to no avail. Belatedly she realized that her body was wrapped in some kind of tight fabric, pinning her arms across her chest. She tried to raise her head, but it was somehow too hard.

“You don’t have to struggle.” An amused voice, familiar.

Sophia leaned over her, her streaked hair now tucked into a neat bun, and her eyes now surprisingly piercing between thin-rimmed glasses.

“You know, I really admire the cone snail.”

The non-sequitur bounced straight off Bonnie, whose drugged brain was mesmerized by Sophia’s eyes, like a rabbit in front of a snake.

“It’s such an effective predator,” purred Sophia. “Slow, careful, systematic, and precise. Do you know how it catches its prey?”

Even if Bonnie had paid attention in her marine biology class, she was far too gone to recall any details.

“It scents its prey in the water, sidles up to it, then floods the water with a sedative,” Sophia informed her. “And then, it slowly envelops it.”

She stroked the restraining jacket that wrapped Bonnie into a compliant package.

“And when it’s ready to feast, it harpoons the helpless prey with powerful drugs, to facilitate its consumption.“

She slid something into the corner of Bonnie’s mouth.

“This will make you feel better, Bon-Bon.”

Bonnie tasted something sweet, and reflexively swallowed it. She gazed up at Sophia, knowing that something was way, way wrong but unable to express it.

“The Rohypnol will still be keeping you confused,” Sophia explained, blandly. Bonnie could now see that she was wearing a white coat, like a doctor. “And I imagine that you’re quite worn out from that laxative.” She giggled. “It took a while to get the smell out of the bathroom, I can tell you.”

Bonnie tried to summon words, but failed after the initial “What...”

“...am I doing? Oh, Bon-Bon, I have something so wonderful in store for you. A whole new experience—a whole new set of desires for you. I love to send my guests back to their home countries with much more interesting interests than they came with.“

She pulled on a pair of black vinyl gloves. “For you, my darling, I want you to discover a new area to play with. Of course, we had to clean it out first.”

Sophia’s face disappeared, and Bonnie felt something cool being worked across her starfish. She whimpered, and shivered a little.

“Just making sure you are sparkling clean for me.” Sophia’s voice was amused. “Don’t worry, my darling, I’ll take my time.

Bonnie was vaguely aware of straps being pulled across her spread thighs, pinning them immobile.

“There are so many nerve endings in and around the butthole,” Sophia observed. “It’s a criminal shame to waste them.”

It didn’t occur to Bonnie to try to struggle. Her thoughts were too muddled to make sense of the situation, and the position she was secured in was comfortable enough. Instead, Sophia’s words just drifted through her head, not really registering.

However, when a lubed finger slid into her bottom, she still gave a reflexive mewl of surprise.

“Not used to that sensation, hmm, Bon-Bon?” Sophia chuckled to herself. “Oh my dear, if only you knew what was coming.”

The strange sensations from her bottom were now accompanied by skilled fingers playing across her labia, which caused Bonnie to sigh in vague pleasure, and relax. Sophia took advantage of the opportunity, and a second finger joined the first, stretching her wider. This was on the edge of discomfort, and Bonnie let loose a small cry of pain.

“Oh darling...” Sophia’s face, now covered by a surgical mask, reappeared in Bonnie’s vision. Her eyes were full of apparent concern for her patient. “I think we have to relax you a little more, don’t you, Bon-Bon?”

“Relax...” Bonnie stared up at Sophia, vaguely recognizing that her vision was going blurry.

“The psychoactives will be taking effect now, anyway. Here...” Deft fingers slipped a silky covering over Bonnie’s eyes, adjusting it to cut out all her vision. “Let your imagination take you places, Bon-Bon.”

A light cloth was draped over Bonnie’s mouth and nose. It didn’t interfere with her breathing, and in fact Bonnie barely noticed its touch, but then there was a hissing noise and a strong hospital smell filled Bonnie’s nose.

The two fingers inside her pressed down, and Bonnie inadvertently gasped at the sensation. She drew in a deep breath of the substance, feeling it warm her mouth and lungs.

“That’s right, Bon-Bon...” The voice sounded like it came from a long way away, and echoed. “Perfectly relaxed for me.”

Something slick but large slid into Bonnie, replacing the fingers, stretching her hole wider than it had ever known. Bonnie’s legs reflexively kicked against the straps holding them in place, her hands balled into fists, and she groaned as something smaller but still substantial penetrated her sex.

“A little wider, perhaps...” Sudden pressure against her opening caused Bonnie to draw another breath, and now the blackness of her vision was replaced by red-hazed vision. She was in her bedroom, back in Oklahoma. The room was dark, but somehow she could still make out her childhood soft toys staring down at her from the shelf. No-one else here, but a voice was still talking to her.

“To and fro, Bon-Bon.” Something electric pulsed deep inside her, filling her body with sensations of pleasure. “Every nerve exposed, here to play with.” The impossibly large invader slowly twisted, moving her most sensitive insides in a way she could not even start to describe. “And everything connected.” The electrical pulsing suddenly expanded through to her sex, and even in her drugged state she screamed, as inexpressible pleasure saturated her.

Sophia sat back to admire her work. Bonnie’s starfish was spread and locked wide by a speculum, leaving her insides open to Sophia’s experienced eye. The electric probe in her sex was connected to a much narrower probe placed through the center of the speculum, letting carefully controlled current flow across Bonnie’s rectum and through her sex. The quivering of Bonnie’s unrestrained fingers showed how she was experiencing the sensations.

“Well, my darling anal-slut-to-be, I think we’ve made a good start.” She checked Bonnie’s pulse and breathing—both elevated, but not excessively so.

“I think we can give you a nice hour or two of dreams, don’t you?” She reached for a small sprayer, and re-soaked the fine cloth covering Bonnie’s face with a fresh dose of her drug.

“Now, if you will excuse me, Bon-Bon, I have a baby to attend. But I’ll be back, to help you dive deeper.”

Carrie was awakened by thirst. Her mouth was dry, and so her eyes flickered open in search of drink. Slowly, she realized that there was something filling her mouth. She reflexively tried to spit it out, but somehow it was held in place.

Her head felt like it was full of cotton wool, dampening any attempt to think. She was vaguely aware of something on her hands, making them hard to move, and something soft covering most of her head, but she couldn’t connect any thoughts together.

Her eyes eventually drifted up to view the ceiling. And there, improbably suspended, was a bonnet-clad baby, mouth apparently filled with an oversized pacifier, dressed in a nightgown decorated with teddies, hands covered in mittens. She stared at that baby for a while, unable to make any connection, despite the face somehow being very familiar...

“Feeding time for Baby!”

The abrupt voice caused her to turn her head away from the mirror. Beside her stood a severe-looking woman, in a formal nanny’s clothing and head dress, thick-rimmed glasses disguising her eyes. Nevertheless, there was something distantly familiar about her.

“Feeling thirsty, Baby?” The nanny leant over her, a powerful flowery perfume filling Carrie’s nose. The girl’s stunned mind could only watch, but she was aware of a compelling thirst.

The nanny’s fingers deftly operated on something by Carrie’s cheek, and suddenly her mouth was free of the obstruction. She licked her lips reflexively, while her gaze was still locked on the nanny.

“Have a suckle from Nanny...” A soft teat slipped into her mouth, and Carrie tasted milk on the tip. Without the intervention of thought, her thirst and infant instincts came to the top, and she started to suck on the provided bottle. The milk was warm, and creamy, and that primeval feeling caused her to accelerate her feeding.

“Oh my, what a greedy little piglet.” Nanny’s voice was amused, and now Carrie felt a hand slide under her neck. Nanny leaned down, cradling Carrie’s head towards her. “You like that, don’t you, Baby? You like to be fed and cuddled.”

With all her higher brain functions stunned by the drugs she’d been given, all Carrie could do was stare into Nanny’s face and smell her perfume, while working her way down the bottle.

“Baby needs a check...” A warm hand slid over her labia, playfully tweaking her clit, and her eyes widened at the sensation. Nanny chuckled, and Carrie felt those fingers start to spread her. “Would you like Nanny to play with you, Baby?”

Her instincts fired up by the aphrodisiac in the milk, Carrie couldn’t help but nod her head frantically.

“Well, I’m sure Nanny can help...” Nanny carefully laid Carrie’s head back on the bed, and slid Carrie’s diaper down her legs. “Oh, what do we have here?” She teased Carrie’s clit again, and the girl moaned, trying to pull her mitten-covered hands to herself, but finding it too difficult.

“No playing with yourself, Baby,” Nanny warned, coating her fingers with lube. “Leave it to Nanny to give you the right treatment.” She bent down to Carrie’s middle, and Carrie felt slick, warm fingers enter her.

“That’s right...” Carrie felt the last bits of control of her body slide away as Nanny’s expert touch fired all the senses in her sex, seemingly at once, causing her to mewl in previously unfathomed pleasure. “You feel so happy here with Nanny, don’t you?” Carrie’s nub sent electric shocks across her body, making her twist in the restraints. “You just want Nanny to take care of you. Nothing else matters....” The teat was slipped back into Carrie’s mouth, and she sucked even more urgently as Nanny explored the depths of her sex.

Finally, Nanny removed her fingers and gazed down at her charge, kindly eyes shaded by her severe spectacles.

“Now for some of Nanny’s special treat...” She gently removed the drained bottle from Carrie’s mouth, and dabbed at the girl’s lips to remove spilled milk. “Open wide, Baby.“

As Carrie obeyed, Nanny unbuttoned the front of her uniform to reveal a plump but firm breast on her right. She dipped two fingers in a small tub, and smeared its contents around her dark nipple.

“Something to give Baby lovely dreams...” She leaned over the stunned Carrie, and slipped the nipple into the girl’s unresisting mouth. “And suckle Nanny’s booby, my little Baby.”

Carrie followed her suckling reflex and pulled hard on Nanny’s teat, causing Nanny’s eyes to widen briefly at the sudden force. There was a strong, sweet taste to the nipple, and she unthinkingly sucked until it started to fade.

Nanny gently touched Carrie’s cheek and eased her teat out of the girl’s mouth. After buttoning back up, she retrieved the pacifier from earlier and slipped it back into Carrie’s mouth, tying it firmly in place.

“Dream time for Baby.” She unfolded a soft, fuzzy pink blanket and placed it carefully across Carrie’s chest. “Nice and snug for Nanny.”

Carrie’s eyelids were suddenly very heavy. She tried to focus on Nanny’s face, but without success. All she could see was Nanny removing some pink items from a box.

“Let Nanny shape your dreams,” Nanny purred, holding something that had started to buzz. “Soon, there will be nothing else you desire, but Nanny...”

The sedative pulled Carrie’s remaining consciousness down into the darkness, but not before she felt firm fingers hold her sex, and a pleasurable vibration coming from something pressed against her mound.

Bonnie groaned as someone shook her shoulders. “Go ’way, it’s not time yet...” There had been a dream—a deep, deep dream of things which had suddenly evaporated from her mind.

“Bon-Bon?” A familiar voice.

Bonnie reluctantly squeezed her eyes open. Fortunately it wasn’t too bright in the room. “Whaddya want? I was having such a good dream...”

Carrie was kneeling by her bed. “Bon-Bon, it’s six thirty. In the evening. I just woke up too. What happened last night?”

Bonnie pulled herself to a half sitting position, which was the best she felt she could currently manage. A look around confirmed that they were in their room at the hostel; sunlight was still coming through the closed curtains, but not the full strength of day.

“Last night?” She searched her memory. “We were in that pub down the street, weren’t we? That girl spilled her drink on me...”

“We went to some kind of 90s club,” offered Carrie. “I remember that much.”

“There are a lot of blanks,” Bonnie admitted, stretching. “I must’ve had way too much to drink. My head feels like it’s full of feathers.”

“Me too, " agreed Carrie. “But at least, no headache. Whatever we were drinking, must have been the quality stuff.”

“I’m going to have a shower.” Bonnie slung her legs out of bed, and shrugged off her T-shirt. “That’ll help... Carrie, what’s up?”

Her friend had suddenly frozen, staring at Bonnie’s chest. Bonnie looked down, but couldn’t see anything unusual. She wasn’t wearing a bra, but that was normal for her sleeping attire.

“Carrie, what is it? Have I got a tattoo or something?” Belatedly, she remembered their high school friend who had gone out drinking in Las Vegas, and returned with a skull and crossbones tattoo on her shoulder and no memory of how it had got there—her father, a physician, had been less than amused.

“Carrie?” Bonnie tapped her friend on her shoulder. “You still there, darlin’?”

Carrie shook her head, and appeared to come back from wherever she had gone. “Sorry, Bon-Bon. No idea what just came over me.” She licked her lips. “I’m going to get some water. Enjoy your shower.”

Bonnie walked into the tiny but clean en-suite, and pulled the shower curtain closed. As the warm water ran over her, her head seemed to clear, and she became gradually more aware of her surroundings—and body.

There was something stuck in her butt.

Cautious, Bonnie slid her hand between her cheeks, and felt something firm, plastic, but slightly malleable. Feeling around, she realized it was the tail end of something quite large that was firmly wedged deep in her butt. And she’d walked from the bed to the bathroom—and how far before that?—without it registering.

She drew a breath, grabbed the end of the object, and started to pull. Whatever was inside her was slick enough to move once she applied moderate force, but she gave a small yelp as it bulged against her sphincter on the way out. Then, all of a sudden, it slithered out of her, and she was holding five inches of butt plug.

Almost instinctively, Bonnie washed off the item in the stream from the shower, and gave it a long stare. She was sure that she’d never seen this particular thing before—so how had it got into her? What had she done last night?

As she reflected, she suddenly realized that her fingers had, apparently automatically, returned to her starfish and started to push into herself.

She pulled her fingers out, and rinsed them off. The invading plug in her hand seemed to mock her. What was the story behind it? Who had she met at that club? Where—how?—had this all happened? But her memory was stubbornly blank.

Sophia, carefully disguised in wraparound sunglasses and a baseball cap, looked up at the window of the hostel where she had left her drugged, obedient, subjects.

“A present from London, my darlings. Your lives have changed, but you don’t really know it—yet.”