The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Iz lay on the floor, feeling the familiar weft and weave of the green carpet between her fingers, her chest rising and falling in a steady, satisfied rhythm.

Dr Z had really put her through her paces. Last week he had decided to number her positions, from one to six. Instead of completing her routine in a simple six minutes, he would tell her a number, and she would take up that particular pose. He might make her hold it for seconds or minutes, pushing the limits of her endurance. He would then say another number. She enjoyed this change. It was exciting, and she was proud when she could hold the more strenuous positions for as long as they desired. Of course, she knew the longer the session lasted, the more deserving she would be of her eventual orgasm. Tonight the Zeedyks had been voicing different numbers for the better part of a half hour before they rewarded her with her favourite phrase—“Good Girl”.

She must have performed especially well this evening, as sometimes they didn’t tell her she was a Good Girl at all. On those nights she would float home on a cloud of unsatisfied arousal, her mind dulled and her body voracious.

“Number two, Iz.” Dr Z said, waking her from her reverie.

Scrambling up, the girl pressed her knees onto the floor and rested on the balls of her feet. She settled her buttocks onto her heels. She held her shoulders up squarely, placed her arms behind her back, and crossed her wrists. Once settled, the Doctor spoke to her again.

“We’d like you to know how happy we are at your progress over the past month.”

Iz beamed with pride. However, he wasn’t finished.

“There is one thing that we’ve noticed. It’s a small thing, really, but it could possibly cause issues as we continue. Your orgasms seem to be lessening in intensity. Can you tell us why you think that is?”

“I … I don’t know.” Iz said, the rosy flush on her cheeks betraying her embarrassment.

“Well, my theory is that orgasmic activity achieved through copulation, or masturbation, outside the parameters of the set study pattern, negatively affects the outcomes we’re searching for. Tell us—have you been masturbating after you practice at home?”

“… yes …” She admitted, mortified. In truth, Iz had found herself compelled to pluck out her vibrator almost every night before she could even think about falling asleep.

“We thought so. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to cease.” He said sternly.

Trying to hide her disappointment, she agreed.

“Excellent. You will find that maintaining strict control over your baser urges will make each session more enjoyable in general.”

Mrs Z broke into their conversation, in a softer voice than her husband.

“Anyway, my dear, we really appreciate how committed you’ve been to our study. We thought that we would buy you a gift, as a token of our gratitude. Come over here, let me show it you.”

Iz crawled on her hands and knees until she knelt before the woman. Mrs Z lifted up a small bundle of tissue paper and unwrapped the leaves.

“What is it?” Iz asked, puzzled.

“It’s a special choker for you to wear. We’ve found in our studies that physical reminders of a subject’s achievable performance can produce beneficial effects regarding the release of dopamine into the brain. Let me put it on you.” She said, lifting up the shiny black strip.

Iz gathered up her hair and pulled it aside to allow the woman to fasten the leather band around her throat. She snapped the button closed.

“We’d like you to wear this whenever you practice from now on, please.”

The young woman’s fingers went to the choker. It felt a little uncomfortable. It was tight. She touched something, and realised that on the front there was a small steel ring, attached by an additional little loop of leather.

“What’s this for?” She asked.

“You needn’t worry about that for the moment.” Dr Z told her. “That will aid us as the study continues.”

Iz wondered if she should think this gift strange. But in truth she felt thrilled. She was obviously progressing. She remembered her manners.

“Thank you both so much!”

That night before bed, she practised once more. When she was finished, she pulled out her vibrator from beneath her pillow. And she dropped it back into the drawer where it belonged.

The days drifted by. Iz attended her college classes during the days, feeling a peacefulness she had rarely felt before, all the while looking forward to her visits to the Zeedyk household.

One night Iz toed her way into her kitchen and poured herself a glass of soda. Her mother was sitting at the table, writing out shift patterns for her staff. She frowned when she looked up.

“What on earth is that around your neck?”

Iz’s hand shot up to her throat. She had forgotten to take off the choker! It had just grown so comfortable to wear over the past nights. It seemed so natural to her to keep it on, even when she wasn’t with the Zeedyks, that she found herself wearing it to bed. Her heart skipped, fumbling for a reply. She didn’t want to lie to her own mother.

“It was a present from the Zeedyks.”

“A present? Why would they give you such a ridiculous-looking thing?”

“It’s … I’ve been helping with one of their studies.”

“What kind of study would need you to wear something like that? It looks like fetish gear out of a sex shop!”

“Mom!”

“I thought that they were being a good influence on you … but I don’t know. I think tomorrow I’ll visit them.”

“Mom, don’t!” Iz flustered.

“Forget that now. I’m going to talk to Dr Zeedyk and find out what this ‘study’ is actually all about, exactly.”

Iz’s stomach lurched. What would they tell her? What if she forced out all the details of what she had been doing for the past month? The exercises? The nudity? The … orgasms? She’s not going to understand, Iz thought. She’s not going to understand and everything will be ruined. She ran out of the kitchen, unable to protest further. She hid in her bedroom for the rest of the night.

Iz’s mother knocked on the door and waited. Questions had been fermenting in her mind since she had spoken to her daughter. She didn’t want this to turn into a confrontation, though. After all, she had known and respected the Zeedyk’s for almost twenty years. When her husband was still alive, the four of them had dined together on occasion. But whatever the hell they’ve been doing with Iz, well, it didn’t feel right down in her gut.

The door opened. Mrs Zeedyk greeted her with a smile.

“Hello Miranda! How are you?”

“I’m fine, Eleanor. I’m here to talk about my daughter. Can I come in?”

“Certainly. Iz is developing into a wonderful young lady, isn’t she?” She offered her some tea.

“Is Charles home?” Miranda asked, when they arrived in the kitchen.

“Sorry, no. He’s having a late meeting with a colleague at Concordia.”

Miranda was disappointed. She would have preferred to talk to them together. She suspected that it was actually the seemingly harmless Doctor who had given Iz the suspicious gift.

“What’s on your mind, my dear?” Eleanor asked.

“Well, for a start, why did you give Iz that awful leather choker? Giving a girl of her age something like that. Do you really think it’s appropriate?”

“Well, I suppose you could call it unusual, but she seemed very happy with it.”

Miranda shook her head, disliking her blithe attitude.

“She also told me she’s helping you with a study. I need to know what it is. I need to know my daughter is safe.”

“Oh, the study Iz volunteered for consists of very basic behaviour monitoring. That’s why we’ve been inviting her over so often. Gathering live data, so to speak.”

“What kind of data?”

“Do you know?” Eleanor considered aloud. “It would be simpler if I gave you a practical demonstration of our methods. I think all of your questions can be answered that way. Let me show you into Charles’ study.”

Mrs Z led Iz’s mother back through the hall and into a small room. It was dominated by a huge set of shelves, filled messily with books. The other walls were adorned with various diplomas and degree certificates as well as many framed photographs. Miranda looked at one. It appeared to show the couple in a lecture hall, surrounded by people she imagined were their colleagues. In the centre of the room was a mahogany bureau. It looked antique. Atop the desk was an unusual object: a box made of black rods. Suspended inside it was something that glittered. Miranda eyed it with curiosity.

“Here, take a seat.” Eleanor directed, pulling out the wheeled chair. She walked around the room and pulled the shutters of the wooden blind closed. In the dim half-light, she flicked on a small lamp. It shone directly onto the cube. Miranda realised the thing was really a glass crystal that contained many facets, and the light was now shining and reflecting directly into her eyes. She kept looking.

“It’s fascinating, isn’t it?” Her neighbour said. “Charles designed it. He calls it a “Concentration Aid.”

“Every evening, we ask Iz to direct her eyes onto the crystal. We ask her to hold her eyes directly on it and not look away. We ask her to concentrate all her attention upon it and focus. Can you do that for me now, Miranda?”

Miranda was silent. She had no difficulty looking. The bright yellow light was refracting into her eyes in a fascinating way.

“Now, as we ask Iz to look, we ask her to take long, deep breaths. Take a breath yourself, dear. Feel your own lungs filling deeply now, as deeply as you can, and exhale slowly. Feel yourself relaxing as you do. Don’t take your eyes from the crystal.”

Miranda breathed in and out and kept her eyes focused. She sank ever so slightly into the soft leather chair as she listened.

“Can you feel your eyes becoming heavy, my dear? So relaxed now. So heavy. So relaxed. Feel yourself falling, falling, falling. So relaxed. So relaxed. Now, let your eyes close. Now … sleep for me.”

Miranda’s eyes fell shut. Her head slumped down towards her chest. Eleanor gripped hold of her shoulders to prevent her from toppling over entirely.

“Very good, my dear. Now you can feel all your cares and tensions drain slowly from your body as you listen to my voice. You’re falling deeper, and deeper, and deeper. Now, would you like to talk about your daughter?”

“Yes.” She replied dreamily.

“Yes. Your daughter is helping us. She is very valuable to us. She will learn a lot from us. We are using our methods to change her behaviour.”

“No … you can’t …” She said, her brow furrowing. Eleanor leaned in to speak softly into the woman’s ear.

“Yes we can. You can trust us. We are very responsible people. You trust us to change your daughter, don’t you?”

“N … no …”

“Yes you do. We’re helping to change your daughter. And that’s wonderful, don’t you agree? Don’t you think your daughter is wonderful?”

“Yes …” Miranda said, with a struggle that betrayed her confusion.

The door opened. Dr Z had quietly let himself back in. He surveyed the two women. His wife turned and smiled.

“Hello dear. You can see I’ve been busy.”

“So. She decided to visit at long last. Was she much trouble to put under?”

“No, you were right. If anything, Miranda is even more susceptible than her daughter. You might want to consider her as a future candidate.”

“One thing at a time, my dear.” Charles said kindly. He walked closer to the oblivious woman and crouched down to address her.

“Okay, Miranda … let us take you deeper. And then we can tell you how you can help your daughter.”

Iz sat hugging her legs as she heard the front door slam close. Her mother had been at the Zeedyks for hours. When she came into her room, Iz tried to gauge the emotions on her face. What had they been talking about for all that time? Her mother was inscrutable however.

“Is everything okay, Mom? What did you say to Dr Zeedyk?”

Her face lit up.

“Oh honey, they told me everything. I think it’s wonderful.”

“They … told you everything?”

Yes. We had a very long talk. They even showed me that focus box, or whatever it they called it. I don’t remember. Anyway, they explained it all to me. They’re very responsible people. You’ll learn a lot if you keep up with their directions. And they told me all about the study and how well you’ve been doing.”

“Wow, really?”

“Mm-hmm. I think it’s excellent work you’re doing together.”

Iz felt so relieved.

“In fact, we came to an agreement. I’m going to help in any way I can for you to be the best girl you can for our neighbours.”

“So you don’t mind if I wear my choker all the time?”

“Of course not! In fact, they told me you feel also more comfortable being naked in their house. So, I want you to do the same at home too. I don’t want you to feel awkward. Charles told me that “familiarity of routine” is an important component of the study.”

Iz smiled. Being nude at home all the time would feel so much better, she just knew.

“I want you to feel like you can practice your regime any time, even if I’m at home. You don’t need to hide any more. I really wish you’d told me sooner, honey. I would’ve loved to have helped you from the start.”

In the hallway of the Zeedyks, Iz pulled down her pink shorts. She wished she had the courage to dash naked across the grass lawn that separated her home from theirs. It would certainly be easier. Now that her mother knew everything, she happily spent her whole time indoors without a stitch of clothing on. Throwing on a t-shirt and bottoms merely interrupted her routine. She had imagined feeling the warm evening sunlight on her bare skin as she walked between the houses. But she would be scandalised if anyone saw her.

Brushing her hand through the giant fern as she passed, she walked through the hallway and into the dining room. She almost yelped when she got there.

There was a man she had never seen before sharing the table alongside the Zeedyks. Iz’s hands instinctively moved to cover her nipples and groin.

“Hi, Iz. We’d like you to greet a colleague of ours.” Dr Z said cheerily.

“It’s a delight to meet you!” The man said, extending his hand. Iz meekly shook it, blushing, conscious that she was revealing her breasts to him. As tall as she was, this man still had the size advantage over her. He wore a white pin-striped shirt underneath brown braces. Combined with his side-parting and his black thick-rimmed glasses, he looked like a caricature of a nineteen-fifties chemistry teacher.

“This is Professor Edward Ridgeway. He’s senior lecturer in neuroscience at Concordia University. We been telling him about you, and your progress, and he’s been very interested in meeting you.”

“Yes, Iz.” Ridgeway said. “Your case is very intriguing to me.”

Mrs Z had cooked a large meal of Thai beef noodle soup for the four of them, and as they ate, they fell into easy conversation. The three scientists had seemingly known each other for years, and spoke in familiar terms. The Professor regaled them with tales of his own particular travels. He seemed to Iz even more worldly than the Zeedyks, despite looking like he had barely escaped his thirties. She couldn’t help but feel impressed by his confident manner. When he began to ask her questions, he seemed genuinely interested in her replies.

“So, how do you feel about taking part in this particular study?”

“I really love it!” She told him. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“And you’re such a tremendous subject!” Mrs Z complimented her. “I hope you feel confident enough to show our friend just how well you’ve been doing.”

Iz hesitated. In front of a stranger? But she nodded. He was a scientist after all, just as they were.

As always, the session began with Iz’s brief gaze into the Zeedyk’s “Concentration Aid”, her sleepy nodding and the delightful release from tension she felt afterwards. As she sat peacefully, her eyes closed, she listened as the Professor asked probing questions to the couple about the little crystal inside its frame. He seemed particularly interested in it how the elder man had constructed it. Eventually the Doctor indicated it was time for Iz’s demonstration. In the living room, the Zeedyks shared the sofa, while Ridgeway took a seat beside them on a wing chair.

“All right Iz. Position number one.” The Doctor told her.

With a deep breath, Iz stood rigid and craned her arms toward the ceiling. She knitted her fingers together and stared up. Her skin chilled even more than usual as she sensed a third set of eyes upon her. The seconds ticked by.

“Very good. Now, number four.”

Iz turned around and spread her legs. After so much practice, she could easily bend over at the hips without any effort. She pushed down until she could grasp her ankles. She held on, feeling the blood pulse in her forehead. She burned with forbidden excitement, knowing full well how she was displaying herself for this unfamiliar man. Dr Z let her hold the pose for a full minute.

“Number six.”

Iz pulled herself back up and turned back to face her audience. She sank onto the carpet and pressed her back flat. She inched her heels close to her buttocks, spread her thighs as wide as she was able, and finally thrust her hips up into the air. As always, she kept her eyes and mouth open, and stuck out her tongue. The silence that filled the room was thick as she held the pose. The pleasure she always felt during her routine was deliciously magnified. Dr Z had been correct. The arousal she experienced, when denied release, would simply build and make her next performance feel even more intense. Right now she was sure her skin must be flushed pink all over.

“Number two.”

This pose had become Iz’s favourite. She felt peaceful as she knelt and crossed her wrists. She pushed back her shoulders and felt her chest swell as she took in long, deep breaths. She saw the Professor staring at her. He seemed transfixed by her body. Iz knew full well that her breasts were pushed out prominently in this position. She felt her nipples throb harder as she recognised the look in his eyes. She wasn’t a naive little fawn. She couldn’t deny, however, that the thoughts he was clearly struggling to hide were exciting to her too.

She continued, obediently taking up whichever number was asked of her, for the next fifteen minutes. By the time Dr Z stopped, she was trembling. She didn’t want to be called a Good Girl this time. Despite all the tingling, she was distressed at the thought of orgasming on command in front of someone she had only just met. Thankfully, no-one said anything.

“Well done, Iz.” Mrs Z finally broke the silence. “Here you go.”

She reached out to her and handed over a Wibele cookie. Iz gratefully crunched it in her mouth as the three academics began to talk.

“And how long has this been going on?” Ridgeway asked, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

“This is her thirteenth training session. We have her practice on her own, too.” Dr Z answered.

That word, Iz thought. He said “training”. He’s never called it that before. She wondered.

“Hmm. She always obeys your directions without any hesitation?”

“Yes. Entirely passive. She’s by far the most receptive subject we’ve ever encountered … she has carried out our instructions without question so far …” Mrs Z interjected.

“Even though the poses are clearly meant to show off her body as explicitly as possible? I would have though she would have been shy, at least at first.”

“Oh, no. She shows no discomfort. As I say, no questions. She’s one of the most naturally submissive girls we’ve come across.”

Strangely, Iz felt a little slicker between her legs at that remark. They continued to discuss her as though she wasn’t in the room. She remained still and listened. The Professor cleared his throat.

“And she’s obviously getting … satisfaction, from this?”

“Unequivocally!” Dr Zeedyk laughed. “But that’s under control now. We’ve been training her in orgasm denial so that she derives sexual pleasure solely from following our instructions. Again, it was surprisingly easy.”

There was that word again. Training.

Dr Z looked at Iz.

“Thank you, my dear. I think that’s all for now. We’ll let you get back home. Professor Ridgeway and I still have a lot to discuss. You’d find it all rather dry, I’m afraid!” He said, with the hint of a laugh. Iz nodded and got to her feet. Ridgeway mirrored her movement and once again shot out his hand to shake hers.

“Goodnight, Iz. It’s been very interesting meeting you.” He said.

Several nights later, Iz was kneeling as usual, savouring the vanilla taste of her Wibele cookie. The Zeedyks were talking. She had grown accustomed to listening to them discuss her progress whilst she waited. Her mind felt a little dopey from lovely orgasm she had just earned. It had been a particularly powerful one. She had performed for nearly a full hour tonight.

Her mind snapped back into focus when she realised she was being addressed directly.

“I’m sorry … what was that?” She said, sheepishly.

“I was saying: we have some news for you, Iz. This will be our last session for the time being.” Mrs Z said.

“Why?” Surely the study wasn’t over? She really hoped not.

“We’ve actually been given a grant to pursue a project at the University of Bern.”

“Bern? In Switzerland? How long will you be gone?” Her heart pounded. She would miss her Dr Z terribly.

“Three weeks.”

“But … what about the study?”

“Yes, we’ve been talking about what to do with your case. We think it’s important that you continue to receive training in our absence. It really seems the best thing for someone like you. I’ve talked the matter over with Professor Ridgeway, and he has kindly agreed to step in. I’ve told him everything he needs to understand our work, so you can feel comfortable that whatever he tells you to do, he has our full support. Do you understand?”

Iz nervously fingered her choker. She wasn’t sure how to process this information. The Zeedyks were one thing; she had known them since she was a child. She had only met this Professor once. She was a little fearful of the idea of taking instruction from a virtual stranger. She was also acutely aware of the way he had stared at her that evening. On the other hand, if this is what they needed from her …

“Yes, I understand.”

“Very good. You’re to follow his directions until we return.”

The Doctor handed her a small slip of paper.

“Here is his faculty address at Concordia University. We told him to expect you at ten o’clock sharp next Saturday morning.”