The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Angela stirred and opened her eyes. She tried to reach up and touch her face, but was unable to move. With a lurch, she realized that she was lying on her massage table on her parlor, that she was effectively restrained, and that she was completely naked. As Charley walked into view, her mind began working at light-speeds. What the hell just happened? Last thing I remember I was looking up at him in the living room. as he took the photograph away from me, I blink and suddenly I am naked, tied down in the parlor, with no lapse in time! What the fuck is happening? Charley glanced down at her for a moment then nodded. “You can speak now, Angela.”

“What in the hell is going on in here? How did you do this? WHY are you doing this? What do you want from me?” All her questions came pouring out of her with return of vocal control. Charley held up a hand to silence her again.

“Okay, you have a lot of questions, and that is understandable. But you see, I still have to finish your session, so if you don’t mind I’ll tell you while I work.” Reaching down inside his pack he pulled out a small box, with a medical cross on it, and Barton Pharmaceuticals printed in big bold letters. So he IS the thief after all, she thought to herself silently. I should have known he was drugging me during those sessions! That’s why I was acting so weird all the time. But why am I just now figuring it all out?

“Remember these?” he asked, showing her the box. “This is one of the boxes I took from your factory before I bombed it. The last of your new experimental Neo-Nannite model two viroids. I also took the plans and the genetic codes, making sure that only I had the knowledge to use or duplicate them. You see, Angela my dear, I have looked forward to having you here, this way, completely helpless and at my mercy, for a very VERY long time. Ever since I first read about your rapid rise to wealth and power more than five years ago, I decided to make you pay...pay for the terrible injustice you performed on mankind...and on me personally.”

“Injustice? What are you talking about?” Angela cried out, hysterically. “I’d never even met you until the day you showed up for the massage! If my cure-all Nannites hurt you in some way, fine, I’ll be happy to pay you any amount of money you want! ANYTHING! But please, just let me go! You don’t have to kill me!”

Charley laughed, as he opened the box, taking out a small container of what appeared to be simple steel stick pins in a glass container. “Kill you? My dear, you misjudge me! I am no killer, though I must admit in the hospital I dreamed of seeing life’s blood trickling away as mine had. No, Dr. Barton, YOU are the only murderer around here!” His words froze her heart, as her secret sin, her long-forgotten murder of her once partner Dr. Devonshire came back to stare her in the face. Had this man somehow found out about it? Impossible. He had no family, no real friends or close acquantices to miss him. And no one saw me shoot him, no one was there, not even the damn store clerk! Yet...its the only explanation that explains all this. “Yes,” he continued, watching her reaction. “I can see it in your eyes, you remember now. The night you shot poor Dr. Devonshire down in cold blood, to steal his life’s work, his plan to better humanity, and perverted it for your own self gain.”

“Who...who are you?” Dr. Barton whispered softly, suddenly afraid. “How do you know all this? No one was there except Clayton and myself. And Clayton is dead!”

Charley smiled wickedly. Closing his eyes deeply, he concentrated a moment, and to Angela’s horror his face...MELTED. Skin momentarily melted like hot wax, then immediately reformed, cooled and set. The man opened his eyes, breathing deeply with the effort, and Angela once again looked into the face of Clayton Devonshire. I have lost my mind! Please dear God let me have lost my mind! she begged silently. Don’t let this be the vengeful spirit come back to take me, oh God oh God oh God!

“I DID die that night, Angela,” he said softly, opening the tiny glass box. “You killed me, the man I was, the humble gentle man who only wanted to help people. When you shot me, you killed that part of me. But you see, Angela, you didn’t know that I was paranoid about leaving the prototype Nannites in the lab, unguarded. I had the latest batch in my shirt pocket that night. Your very first bullet broke the container, and those wonderful little creatures invaded my system, seeking out my injuries and setting to work healing them. When you walked away, my Neo-Nannites were healing the mortal wounds you had inflicted on me, saving my life, but doing much more. You see, that batch had not been programmed, not given a specific type of cell to repair, and with no set instructions, like good little worker drones they fixed everything. EVERYTHING!”

Slowly, Angela’s shock was giving way to horror. Her mind felt close to snapping like dry kindling, but strangely, perversely, she found herself becoming aroused by his tale. “The viroid cells repaired the gunshot damage, and they repaired the nerve and spinal damage I suffered from the wreck so long ago. But they didn’t stop there. Their rudimentary programming told them to fix EVERYTHING wrong, so they split and reproduced themselves to complete the monumental task. They repaired my eyesight to twenty-twenty, they fixed my hair, which was starting to grow a little thin on top, they gave me a face lift that made me look twenty years younger. Hell, they gave me a complete overhaul and MADE me twenty years younger! They completely rebuilt my body slowly, cell by cell. It was quite painful, by the way. Working organs infected and rebuilt piece by piece in favor for a new BETTER working organ. As I lay in the hospital, letting them run their course, I came to a horrifying last conclusion. This batch has also never been programmed to terminate after finishing the job. Self-replicating, they would stay in my system forever, rushing to fix every minor little problem in my body.”

Charley/Clayton took out a pin, twirling it in his fingers lightly. “The one saving grace is that they actually left my mind pretty much alone. They repaired the physical damage, but otherwise left me quite alone. That brings us to the question of what I am going to do with you.” He gently embedded the needle into her flesh, placing it in with remarkable skill and precision, causing no pain. As Angela watched, the steel pin seemed to shrink, melting, slowly being absorbed by her flesh. “These needles, and the others used on you, were synthesized Neo-Nannite sticks. For the past month, I have been imbedding them into your flesh. Unlike the ones in my body, yours have very specific programming, and are at work even now in your system. They are repairing your brain, my dear, from the inside out. Slowly but surely they have rebuilt your mind, in a slightly better way, which results in a totally new personality and thought process. I am in essence making you into a helpless shameless sex-starved slut. Last week’s session accomplished that, by the way. But for the coup de grace, I wanted you to see me and KNOW who it was that did this to you, and why. This last session will complete your make-over, with one little difference.” Smiling wickedly, he took out several pins, stabbing her painfully in the side of the neck. “You are about to become my complete and total slave, Angela. Kiss your controlling superior attitude goodbye, and say hello to sweet submissive slavery.”

A loud scream escaped her lips as the last barrage of needles flowed like quicksilver into her body. Whether it was a scream of outrage, a scream of pain, or a scream of pure pleasure as she came gushing, she never knew. The blackness once again rushed up to engulf her.

Epilogue:

(a year later...)

Clayton Devonshire sat in bed, yawning, stretching a bit, and glancing down at his sexy little slut, chained at the foot of his bed. Completely and hopelessly obedient to him now, her programming complete and irreversible, he found her even more beautiful than he had working next to her night and day in the lab so many years ago. In the aftermath of his sudden reappearance and marriage to the well-known billionaire, he reflected on how peaceful life had become. He had told her that the Nannites had not changed him mentally, that he was still basically the same person he was before. Now, he wasn’t so sure. Glancing around at the opulent expensive surroundings, the sheer pleasure of having anything and everything you could possibly want at your fingertips, he could see how Angela—now simple “slave” in private—wanted so badly to reap the full rewards of their work. He could have simply donated it all away, went through with his original plan and gave the secret of the Nannites away for free. But somehow he just couldn’t do it.

He would keep the rewards slave and he had righteously deserved, as well as the technology of the Nannites. However, he knew better than anyone just how it could be abused and misused in the wrong hands. So he used his resources and removed the Nannites from the major markets, reserving them only for extreme cases for incurable diseases or severe untreatable conditions such as paralysis. Instead, he focused his company’s revenue into scientific research, and government work.

In time, his million dollar companies became many many BILLION dollar industries. Deciding to retire from the active part of running his empire, he combined his companies into one mass corporation, naming it TransCorp Industries Unlimited. The Board of Directors would nominate a CEO and run things for him, and he could enjoy his profits and spend time with his loving submissive wife.

One day he received a call from the B.O.D. concerning a prospective new employee. They had reviewed his record, and noted that he was a promising up-and-coming young scientist. The man had cited HIM under references, however, and Ben Davis, the current CEO, decided to call and confirm it.

“Me? As a reference? Hmmm.” Clayton said, stroking Angela’s wet pussy idly. She responded with a cat-like purr and spread her thighs open wider for her Master to play with. Hopefully, if she excited him enough, it would lead to another 15 to 16 hour marathon of sex. Smiling inwardly, she blessed one aspect of their genetic rewriting: their bodies were blessed with incredible endurance and recuperative abilities.

“I see. His name is James Specten, you say? Yeah. Yes! I remember him now. He was a first year student in theoretical physics at the University where I taught a while back. A bright one, that boy.” Pause. “So he got his doctorate already, you say? Top of his class? Hah, doesn’t surprise me. He was always a sharp one, Specten was.” Another pause. “Well of COURSE hire him! We don’t want a man with his talent get away! Offer him whatever you think is fair, then add another ten percent. Just make sure you get him on the payroll. I think that man is going to really make a name for himself in this corporation.” A soft whine came from his slave, and Clayton looked up to see her writhing painfully close to orgasm. Sighing, he nodded to her. “Well Davis I have to go. I have a meeting of my own to attend to, if you catch my meaning. Uh huh. Yes, I’ll give her your regards. Okay. Goodbye.” Hanging up the phone, he pulled his little slave up into the bed with him, and spreading her legs, mounted her firmly on his cock.

In all ways, it was the start of a most memorable night for them both.