The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

No #3221 scratched absent mindedly at the “clothing” thing The Master had ordered him to wear. A “T-Shirt” it was called apparently. #3221 hated the thing. It just plain wasn’t natural for a Slave to have clothing things. But The Master must always be obeyed. With luck this mission would go a long way to replenishing the loss of over a hundred head of slave livestock caused by the Rogue Master known as Talon.

The man behind the desk was one of humanity’s less perfect individuals, 50 years old, fat, unshaven and with enough bad habits for any three other people.

“Bonjour, are you Mr Blakeney, of Blakeney Coach Hire?” asked #3221

“What’s it to you Frog?” demanded the target, stubbing out a cigarette.

“I ‘ave found something that was dropped, I think it may be valuable.” explained #3221. holding out his hand, the glint of gold between his fingers.

Predictably greed flashed in the man’s piglike eyes as he leaned forward to see what exactly he was about to confiscate as “lost property”. The flash of laser light hit his eye from a range of less than a foot.

“How many staff do you employ, in what capacity?” demanded #3221

“Five, Three Drivers and Two Mechanics.”

“How many are ‘ere today?”

“All of them.”

“Call them in here and then await further instructions.”

The man stomped off through the office’s back door and came back a few moments later accompanied by His employees.

#3221 held out the sphere he had concealed in his other hand and closed his eyes. The sphere was an entirely different technology to his trusted laser controller, not so much a beam weapon as a grenade. He could see the pulse through his closed eyelids, lighting up the veins it was so bright.

Opening his eyes he was satisfied to see that all six were fully under, their eyes rolled up showing only the whites.

“Mechanics, step forward.” he ordered

Two of the men stepped forward, one aged in his 20’s the other in his mid 40’s.

#3221 moved to the older one and placed a small cylinder in his hands. “The Coach booked for the University rowing team has a broken air conditioner unit. Placing this canister in the intake duct will solve the problem. when you have completed this task you will go to the canteen, have a cup of coffee and forget everything you have done since you saw the light flash. you will not feel alarmed that you cannot remember.”

Satisfied that the primary task was complete #3221 turned his attention to the drivers, two were mid thirties and somewhat ordinary looking, the third was younger, early 20’s with a good face.

“You and you, go to the canteen for a mug of coffee. You will not remember this conversation, nor feel uneasy about not remembering.” said #3221 indicating the older two.

Quickly #3221 placed a CD-walkman on Blakeney’s head and hit the play button, it was a standard recruiting CD, implanting a control word and the need to ring a telephone number once a week to request instructions.

#3221 returned his attention to the young Driver and Mechanic. both of which had ...possibilities. “Both of you strip off.”

Blindly obedient the two removed their clothes. #3221 paced around them inspecting. Yes, both had potential and a quick visit to The Master’s lab would correct any deficiencies.

“The University Rowing Team have decided that YOU are to be their personal driver. They have also decided that they need a personal Mechanic when on the road, which is YOU. You are both Gay but are in the closet, the thought that your friends might find out terrifies you. What are you?”

“I am the rowing team’s driver, I...do not have a girlfriend at the moment.”

“I am the rowing team’s Mechanic, I am...single.” replied the Mechanic, the passionate look in his eye all the confirmation that was needed.

“Good, get dressed, once you are dressed, you will forget having had this conversation.”

Joe Bent joined the crowd jostling around the notice board, cries of victory and groans of failure as the Rowing Squad learned who would get a seat in the boat that would race against Oxford. Someone elbowed him aside, It could only be Sadiq Ali, the brash golden boy of the team.

“Outa the way Bender” said Sadiq

Joe glared at his back, he hated the nickname, but what could he do? objecting would just make the damned name a permanent label. Taking advantage of the hole Sadiq had made in the crowd he arrived at the board.

“YES!” exclaimed Sadiq, as if there had been any doubt. “Hey Bender you’re in too....And...Who The Fuck is Jean Claude Delamere?”

“It is I” said a heavily accented French voice “I am how you say Le Ringer.”

Joe took a good look at the speaker, short blonde hair, shaved close around the sides, a startling face that was almost identical to the filmstar Leo. The body looked fit enough, although his physique looked somehow unfocused as if his training had not concentrated totally on rowing. He also looked like he had just got off a plane from a warmer climate, wearing only cut off jeans and a plain grey T-shirt...bare feet? This guy was seriously excentic.

“All right you reprobates” growled a voice from the back of the crowd “Those of you that didn’t make the grade get down to the Gym, you have WORK to do if you EVER want to be on this team.”

A chorus of “Yes, Coach Tennison” came from several dejected athletes. Soon the crowd thinned dramatically.

“You will have noticed that we have a new crew member his name is Jean Claude Delamere he is on an exchange deal from University De Le Normande. You...Sadiq...are NOT to refer to him as Froggy”.

“Who Me?” asked Sadiq innocently

Joe frowned the coach’s speech had seemed a little odd, like he had read it from a cue card,....strange.

“As for you lucky individuals, you look like you need some exercise, Lansdown racecourse and back NOW.”

Oh great! a 5 mile run, up steep city streets, thought Joe. Still if you want to be the best you gotta do the training.

Exhausted the Rowing Squad piled into the changing room, quickly stripping off snow soaked rugby shirts before piling into the communal showers.

It seemed that the French guy was unusually well endowed, and semi-hard. Joe noticed Sam Tobin giving Jean a long covert examination. Sam was a quiet one, definitely “That Sort”. Unfortunately for Sam, Sadiq had also noticed.

“Hey looks like you Sam likes the look of that third leg of yours Frenchie!”

Jean Claude turned and smiled shyly, “I hope then that he see something he like. ”

Sam blushed deeply and Sadiq’s arrogant grin broadened like a predator sensing a weakness.

Enough of this, thought Joe and stealthily reached behind Sadiq flipping the showerhead from steaming hot to bloody freezing.

“YOU BASTARD!” screamed Sadiq at Joe’s rapidly departing back. The rest of the team roared with laughter as the chase began.

Later after things had quieted down Sam sidled over and mumbled under his breath “Thanks, Joe” before shuffling past.

Two days later the team piled onto the coach ready for the trip to Oxford and a race with one of the two premier rowing teams.

By luck, most of it bad, Sam had ended up sat next to Jean Claude directly across the aisle from Sadiq who made a point of sitting next to Joe, a malicious grin on his face. It was going to be a Looong journey.

Curiously Jean-Claude got out a smog-filter mask and slipped it over his nose and mouth. It had not occurred to Joe that anyone fit enough to come second in the cross country training would need such a thing.

The Coach eased it’s way out of the city centre, out of the valley and then higher into the tree capped hills, past the high peak with it’s old folly. Fifteen minutes down the road there was a commotion on the other side of the Coach, everyone trying to see what was going on. Another Coach had left the road and caught fire, the emergency services were on hand putting out the flames.

Joe caught a brief glimpse of the number plate, amazingly the first five digits (the legible ones) were identical to the team coach.

The air conditioning came on full blast trying to combat the winter chill. Joe glared at the nozzle, there was an odd smell, like male sweat coming from it.

Not only did the air conditioner smell, it was getting stiflingly hot. Joe pulled off his jumper. It didn’t help he was still sweltering, even the driver was wiping his brow.

Jean Claude got up and leaned close to the driver whispering in his ear. The Driver nodded and reached up for the microphone. “We will be stopping at Togg Hill picnic site, see if we can’t sort out the air conditioning.

Togg Hill was a good 5 minutes down the road, and Joe felt uncomfortable, his shirt sticky with sweat. The others were doing no better, Sam had taken off his shirt and was naked from the waist up. Unable to stand it, Joe unbuttoned his own shirt. Soon the rest of the team were doing the same, even the driver and mechanic. The only person unaffected was Jean-Claude and Joe figured that being from a warming climate it wasn’t bothering him.

A coffee coloured hand caressed his thigh.

Joe’s eyes widened and his cock went from limp to hard in seconds forming a tent in his trousers. Sadiq was feeling him up!

On an intellectual level he knew this was NOT RIGHT, a homophobe like Sadiq, stroking his thigh. Even more bizarre Joe found himself enjoying the gentle touch and leaned back against the head rest letting it happen.

The coach swerved slightly, Joe looked up to see what had happened. Apparently Sadiq was not the only one feeling randy. The Mechanic had pressed himself against the driver’s naked back and was reaching around him to tease his nipples.

Across the aisle Sam’s head was buried in Jean-Claude’s lap, bobbing up and down energetically.

Joe heard the first popper release, Sadiq was slowly undoing the fasteners down the leg seam of his track trousers. He felt dizzy for a moment, a waft of that smell from the air conditioner, and when he opened his eyes he was looking straight at Sadiq’s nipple. His tongue was licking the stiff nipple head before he really stopped to think about it. A hand curled in his hair holding him in place.

The smell again, and the dizziness. It was getting difficult to think. His own hands began to explore Sadiq’s smooth skinned body, his fingers running through the thick hatch of hair below the beltline..

The Coach came to a stop, Joe could see the snow covered picnic seats and trees. Togg Hill.

“Everybody off the Coach” ordered Jean-Claude “There is more room out there for sex.”

It seemed an odd sort of statement to make, but Joe didn’t care anymore he just wanted to FUCK.

They all piled off the coach, Joe got groped by several hands as he made his way to the doors. The semi-clothed rowing team took mere moments to get naked. Joe felt so HOT that the snow didn’t even register as he rolled Sadiq in the snow.

He wanted to say something but his mind felt fuzzy all he could get out was “Gonna FUCK YOU”

They wrestled, struggling passionately, somehow Joe realised that whoever lost would be the one to get fucked. He rolled Sadiq onto his back, pinning his arms. Sadiq obligingly spread his legs in a V. Joe thrust in feeling the tight grip of ass muscles on his tool for the first time...ECSTASY....And then someone was touching him from behind hands pulling his ass cheeks apart even as he continued to thrust into Sadiq.

He tried to think to make words in his mind but there was only one word left fuck, Fuck, FUCK

The penis nudged at his ass insistently and that felt REALLY good. a third penis dangled within reach of his willing lips, he caught it and sucked it in.

The penis touching his ass thrust up inside him, did something wonderful deep within him and suddenly Joe was cuming inside Sadiq. Semen splattered his chest, Sadiq too had cum.

He looked up to at least see who’s cock he was sucking on and nearly gagged as Coach Tennison shot his load, filling his mouth to overflowing. white love juice dribbled down his chin

Sated Joe pulled out of Sadiq and rolled onto his back in the snow, feeling sleepy....so very sleepy. There was something he should have remem.....

#3221 watched patiently as one by one the recruits ejaculated and fell exhausted into gas induced slumber. Satisfied that things were going to plan, #3221 began collecting the scattered clothes, putting them in a “keep The Country Tidy Bin” along with the T-Shirt and shorts that The Master had given him. Soon they were blazing away merrily.

The Master’s Van pulled up next to the coach. An Enslaved Reginald Blakeney got out walked Zombielike to his coach got in and drove it away. Tomorrow he would be re-spraying it and attaching new number plates.

He woke up, someone had nudged him with a foot wrapped in hard stuff.

“Sleep time is over Slave, get in The Van.” said a man. The man was wrapped in something dimly his mind groped for a word ...clothing.

He got up and started walking toward the thing the man had called a Van, A coffee coloured man and an older man were also walking toward the Van, they seemed familiar somehow.

The Van was already half full when he arrived. inside was a convenient shelf to sit on with rounded conical projections sticking upwards. Gratefully he lowered himself onto the buttplug seat wriggling a little to get the most pleasure. His penis hardened as he sat waiting patiently.

The other two followed his example and soon they too were erect.

Another naked man walked along the line, this one seemed to know the clothed man’s wishes and was putting things over the ears of the other seated men. The things were placed over his ears and a voice began whispering in his ear, telling him his name was #3602 .....#3602 smiled proudly he LIKED having a name.

Deep inside the mind of Number #3602 the name Joe stopped being relevant as the voice droned on.