The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The dinner was excellent, the finest example of Deinian cuisine that could be provided. The after dinner drinks were also superb, and the conversation with the host witty and stimulating. Alcaeus was glad that he had accepted Lady Leusa’s invitation, though at first he had been rather nonplussed by it. The wizard knew the noblewoman socially—they had friends in common—but they were not intimate by any means. That he had been requested to bring along one of his slave girls had added mystery to the evening. During the dinner, Alcaeus had fed her the occasional scrap. At length, after the servants had taken the dishes and other miscellanies away, the three of them moved to Leusa’s study. Alcaeus and his host took comfortable seats across from one another. Nessa knelt unobtrusively in a corner.

“What goes into the making of a sex slave?” Leusa asked him.

“Are you asking in a professional capacity, my lady? That is, is there a man you want as your slave boy?”

“No.” The noblewoman shook her head vehemently. “I mean a slave girl. What is involved in the creation of a slave girl?” Her gaze drifted to Nessa, who lowered her head and tried to make herself more unnoticed.

“Well,” Alcaeus began. He adjusted his position, crossing his legs and setting himself in the chair’s right side. “At the risk of stating the obvious, my lady, I am a man-wizard.” He drew his left hand to his chest. “I have no personal experience in the magic involved in creating a female sex slave, or any female slave, for that matter.” It was common knowledge that a wizard’s powers were of limited effectiveness when directed toward the opposite gender. In other words, man-wizards created all the slave boys, woman-wizards created all the slave girls.

“But you are a wizard,” Leusa stated. “I am sure you are familiar, at least, with the basics, yes?”

Alcaeus nodded, acknowledging this truth. “What can you tell me about the transformation of Lady Eria?” Leusa was referring to an incident that had occurred a few months ago in the Deinian Senate. Eria Scarphn had been the noble Head of House of House Scarphn, yet driven to extreme financial difficulties she had had to beg to be transformed into a slave girl in front of the entire assembly.

She and her twin daughters had then been publicly auctioned. The fallen noblewoman now belonged to one of Leusa’s peers, Lord Chros. In subsequent time, Chros had proven extremely liberal with the use of his new slave. Many members of De’s nobility had so far enjoyed the girl’s pussy, mouth, and rectum. The twins were purchased by a brothel and had by now likewise received many usages, both noble and common. The whole affair had been the talk of the City and Island-Republic of De since.

“Lady Eria was transformed into a Nycclethnim property girl,” Alcaeus said. “So were her daughters. In a very real sense, they are no longer human. They require little or no food, little or no water, little or no real rest. They are living dolls whose only purpose is to bring pleasure to others.”

“Do they experience pleasure themselves?” Leusa asked.

Alcaeus shook his head. “I confess to ignorance, my lady. I suspect yes, as such responsiveness is often instrumental in providing pleasure to others, but I could easily be mistaken. Their helpless writhing and squirming in the hands or on the cock of a man could well be the result entirely of playacting.”

“But don’t you own a property girl yourself? Surely you, of all people, can tell the difference.”

“Nessa isn’t a property girl,” Alcaeus said. He snapped his fingers, and she rushed forward to kneel by his side. Leusa’s invitation had asked him to bring one of his slave girls. In point of fact, Alcaeus was in the habit of only owning one slave for his pleasure at a time. Nessa had been his just over a year.

“I don’t understand.”

“Stand, Nessa,” the wizard ordered his slave. She complied at once. “Strip.” Lady Leusa was wearing a richly brocaded dress of satins and silks. Alcaeus himself was clad in trousers and a jacket, complete with a cloak he had handed away to a servant upon entry to the house. In contrast, all evening Nessa had worn but a simple, white cloth, open to either side, deeply cut in the middle, and ending just above her mid-thighs. Naturally, it was open at the bottom. Removing it was the action of but a moment. Nessa then stood naked before the seated pair, a lithe, beautiful girl with generous hips and high, perky breasts. Her hair was blond and cascaded loosely about her shoulders (Lady Leusa’s raven-black hair, again in contrast, was drawn up in an intricate bun and styled high atop her head).

“Turn around,” the man-wizard told her. Nessa’s skin was perfumed and made-up, pale as most islanders were. While overall she was beautiful, what drew the eye most was the elaborate tattoo on her left shoulder. “That is the Mark of Daox,” Alcaeus said to the noblewoman. “Tell me, can you describe it?”

“I . .” Leusa began, then blinked several times in succession. “I . . cannot. It seems to move on its own, drawing inward in a spiral.” She closed her eyes and turned her whole face away. “It makes me uncomfortable.”

“And are you aroused, Lady Leusa?” She sniffed sharply and looked angrily at the wizard. He was not offended, though. “I apologize if the question makes you uncomfortable.” This was an odd conversation but by no means unenjoyable.

Leusa relaxed, a little. She leaned back. “Yes,” she admitted. “That’s what makes me uncomfortable. Seeing it . . . yes, it is arousing.” Very arousing, if Alcaeus was any judge of women, and he was.

Leusa’s breath was sharper. Her bosom was lifted. Her legs had twisted back and forth uneasily, in heat and wetness, he suspected.

“That is the typical effect the Mark has on females,” he said. “When I look upon the Mark of Daox, I see only a ring of circles surrounding another ring of circles. But then you are a woman, and I am a man. The arousal you feel is secondary, at most. Imagine the effect of having the Mark permanently written on your skin.” He reached out and casually touched Nessa between the legs. She jumped.

“Are you hot, Nessa?”

“Yes, master,” she said. “I am always hot and wet, master.”

“Do you want to be used?”

“Yes, please, master,” she begged. She bit her lips. “Please, master. I need you so badly.”

“Turn around and be silent.” Whimpering, she did as she was commanded. “Nessa is a slave girl, but she is still human, unlike a true property girl. She ages. She requires sustenance. The Mark of Daox binds her mind into heat and subservience, but otherwise there is little biological difference between her and yourself, my lady.”

“I see,” Leusa said. She had begun perspiring slightly, and she wiped her brow with a cloth she pulled from her sleeve. She was silent for a few moments. Alcaeus gazed upon his slave. Though she was trying to remain perfectly still, Nessa was trembling, and he didn’t think it was from the cold. He felt a stirring in his groin. He hadn’t had her all day. He felt an urge to have Nessa straddle him right now and impale herself on his cock. Her pussywork had improved considerably over the year he had owned her. He had trained the slut to all his likes and dislikes. But this was neither the time nor the place for such indulgence. For one thing, it would be terribly impolite.

“How was she made a slave?” Leusa had collected herself.

“Nessa was made a slave girl by the Pecthentnim Order,” Alcaeus explained. “They are based in the east on the Isle of Daox, along with the pirate-merchants of that island.” He turned to Nessa. “Nessa, what do you remember of your life prior to becoming a slave?”

“I have always been a slave girl, master,” she said, a hint of confusion crossing her face. “I have no memory of being anything other than a slave, master.”

“What is your first memory?”

“I remember . . . I was strapped into a slave-rack, master. A heavily robed woman was standing next to me. She was touching the Mark on my shoulder.” She shrugged in that direction. “When she stepped aside, there was a man there. He was . . . heavenly, master. He was the first man I had ever seen. I wanted him to use me. I greatly desired to be put to use. Then there were other men, too, all equally handsome and powerful, master.

“They removed me from the slave-rack. They took me to a training room and raped me in succession.

“I loved it.”

Her trembling had increased with the recollection. Her nipples were engorged. She would need to be used hard tonight, or he would never be able to get any sleep.

“Although I don’t know for certain,” the man-wizard addressed Leusa, “I suspect Nessa is originally from Dicao.” This was the large peninsula to the east of Daox. “Possibly she’s from Eastern Dommodon, or even from the Barbaric Isles. The blond hair is an indicator. In any event, she was captured or acquired by the Lords of Daox. The Mark was tattooed on her shoulder while she was held immobile in the rack, probably by one of the Daoxechent who first used her. That is traditional.

“After the tattoo was completed, it would have to be activated by a Pecthent woman-wizard. Until the Mark is activated, it’s just a tattoo. The magic suppresses any memory of life prior to its activation.

“At the same time, it greatly augments the new slave’s sexual appetites. It also makes her worshipful and obedient to men. What training did you receive after your first rapes, Nessa?”

“I was taken to the Pleasure Pits of Daox, master. There, I received training in how to provide gratification to a man, or to men. I was taught how to use my mouth and pussy. I was buggered repeatedly. I learned how to dance seductively. I was trained in the licking and swallowing of cocks. I was made a sex slave, master.”

“Do you enjoy being a slave?” Leusa asked her directly.

“Yes, mistress,” Nessa replied. Per her training, and after meeting her master’s glance briefly for the granted permission, the slave girl went to her knees before speaking to a free female, and a noblewoman besides. “I am a slut.”

“What is it you enjoy most?”

“Cocks, mistress,” Nessa said frankly. “I love the taste and feel of cocks. I love it when they penetrate me. I love it when a man’s organ spurts his cum into my pussy. I love caressing a penis with my tongue and lips and providing him oral pleasure. I love being raped by two or three men simultaneously.”

Leusa’s head drew back to the headrest of her chair, not so much in surprise or disbelief but in sheer shocked reaction to this lack of guile. “You are indeed a powerful slut, Nessa,” she said.

“Yes, mistress. Thank you, mistress.”

“Is her beauty natural, Alcaeus?”

“For the most part,” the wizard stated. “The Daoxechent are excellent judges and purveyors of slave flesh, my lady. She would have had potential to begin with. Diet and exercise are important, even now. But the Pecthentnim also feed their slave girls in training a special concoction, which is magical. It increases the libido. It stimulates ideal femininity. Let’s say that Nessa was probably pretty to begin with, and that prettiness was enhanced to true slave beauty through minor magic and training.”

“Am I beautiful, Alcaeus? Do I have the potential to be as beautiful a slave as Nessa?”

The man-wizard appraised her. By this time, he wasn’t entirely taken aback by her question. “You have lovely features, my lady. Your hair is quite pretty. I would like to see it undone and flowing. Your figure is shapely. Yes, I think you would, in the fullness of time, make a truly beautiful slave girl, were you to be enslaved, my lady.”

Leusa was silent for a long while. She let her gaze linger off in the unseeing distance. “I am frightened, Alcaeus,” she said. “I don’t know what to do.”

Alcaeus leaned forward. “My lady, when I gave consideration as to why you might have invited me to dinner this evening, I decided to bring an item of power along with me. This item may help you come to a decision. May I fetch it?” She nodded.

The wizard squinted and concentrated. “Nessa, you can put your slip back on,” he said, distractedly. “Yes, master. Thank you, master.” He told the blond slave to return to her corner, and she did so.

A minute later, the door to Leusa’s study opened of its own accord (actually, at the mental urging of Alcaeus), and a bundled rug floated into the chamber. He had left it in the coach, just in case. The rug settled on the floor between the wizard and Leusa. The noblewoman’s breath was uneven, though whether this was in response to Alcaeus’ demonstrated power or to her own admissions he wasn’t sure.

The wizard lifted a finger: the rope holding the carpet tight came loose, and the piece of cloth unwrapped, laying itself out flat between them. Leusa gasped when she saw what was revealed inside.

Her eyes glazed a little.

“I purchased this from the Pecthentnim Order some years ago. It was very expensive, though by now I’ve long since made up the cost with the satisfactions it has brought me.” The carpet was long and rectangular and bordered in intricate reds and blacks. What was most noteworthy, though, was the Mark of Daox emblazoned in the center. To Alcaeus’ vision, this was just a sequence of radiating circles, unmoving. Leusa, he knew, would be seeing something entirely different: a dynamic pattern, winding and unwinding continuously. Smaller Marks were sewn into the border. To Leusa, the whole piece of fabric would seem alive. “You may consider the rug in the way of a test. Any woman whose bare feet or bare flesh are in contact with it will experience, temporarily, the effects of the Mark of Daox. She will be, temporarily, made a Pecthentnim slave girl.”

Leusa was inhaling heavily. Her eyes never left the center of the carpet. “Why do you own it?” she asked.

“I am a man,” he replied evenly.

She nodded. “I will lose all sense of myself on the carpet?” He noted she was already taking her shoes off. “Yes,” he said. “But you will retain a memory of the experience afterwards.”

“I will be a slave girl while I am on the carpet?”

“Yes. Fully and completely.”

She nodded again. “Yes. Yes. It is good you brought this, Alcaeus. Thank you.” And with that she stepped onto the rug. She was a very forthright noble, so unlike many of her contemporaries in De.

The effect on Leusa was immediate and galvanizing. Her entire expression changed. Before stepping onto the rug, she had been a fearful and uncertain woman. Tension had been written all over her face. She had looked unhappy and distracted. Upon stepping onto the rug, Leusa’s whole face lit up. Her mouth opened in amazement. Her whole posture relaxed. Then, when Alcaeus fell into her line of sight, she changed demeanor yet again. She gasped. She lifted her bosom to him. Her knees split; she smiled at him, awe and happiness visibly overtaking her.

“Strip,” the man-wizard commanded her.

She blinked. “Master . . ?” she said, confused.

“I said strip, slut!” She shook with emotion, equal parts desire, fear, and worship. Hurriedly, she began tearing her clothes off. She whimpered, wilting under his gaze, recognizing his impatience. “I’m sorry, master . . . I’m sorry, I don’t know what . . .”

“Silence!” She cried out, desperation overtaking her. Her nipples were erect, Alcaeus saw, when they were revealed a moment later. The blood was pumping beneath her skin, making her flush, partially in embarrassment of her nakedness before a man, partially in excitement due to her nakedness before a man. She squirmed attractively; it was a talent. “Go to your knees,” he told her. “Arms to your sides. Palms flat to the floor.” She obeyed. “Put your forehead to the carpet.” She complied.

She was a beautiful woman. She looked good on her knees. He told her to lower her hair. She did.

“Lift your ass. Higher. Higher! I said.” She cried out again. He knew, from prior experience with the rug, that the girl’s whole universe—she wasn’t strictly Lady Leusa at the moment—had focused on him and her body entirely: the feelings rushing through it, the need she had for him to touch her, use her, had no competition in her mind. With the loss of her memory, the loss of herself, her identity as the “Lady Leusa,” all the nameless girl could claim as her own was the emotion of the moment, and her instinctual need to obey a man. For all intents and purposes, her life had begun just thirty seconds ago.

He put his foot before her. Unbidden, she began kissing it, licking it, blubbering. “Oh, master, I’m so sorry. Your slave is so sorry. Forgive your slave, please, master.”

Alcaeus smiled. Yet he made his voice harsh, for her benefit. “You are a disobedient slut.” He slapped her upturned buttocks, and a shudder of arousal swept through her. Her whole body went red.

He hadn’t had a woman all day. He could have removed his clothes by hand, or even had her do it (that would have been amusing); instead, with a practiced flicker of magical force, every tie and button of Alcaeus’ outfit came undone at once. Every seam parted. Everything—even shoes—went soaring.

Nessa would gather them up.

Lady Leusa was already in the perfect position. He came behind her, took hold of her hips—she squealed in delight—raised her up, and entered her pussy.

She greedily pulled on his cock. He rode her, clutching at her exposed breasts, and she drove back onto him, meeting his thrusts with equal abandon. “Oh, yes! Yes!!” she screamed. “Master, your cock! Your cock feels so good! It feels so good!!” She turned her head, kissing him on the side.

He pulled out of her. Before she could complain or whine, he turned her about. Her long black hair spread out on the carpet as he laid her down. He entered her again. She kissed him at length, pressing her bosom against his chest, intertwining her legs with his. “I love being a slave. I love being owned and having to serve men. I have you to thank for it! Thank you, master! Thank you!” He returned her kiss and her embrace, and, his vigor inspired by her enthusiasm, thoroughly had his way with her.

“Oh, master!” she cried out. “I love you, master! I love you! I love being a slave! I love it!”

She moaned as he played with her body, and the climaxes he managed to induce in her—the long, rolling, screaming climaxes which only a woman in bondage could experience and enjoy—confirmed for Alcaeus the raw potential he had seen in her. As she bucked beneath him, her body convulsing with the ecstasy that only a fucked slave girl could experience, Alcaeus was honestly impressed with the noblewoman’s performance on the carpet. Leusa was a virtually inexperienced slut—he discounted any sexual experiences she might already have had in her life, for two reasons: one, at the moment, she wouldn’t be able to remember any of them; and two, even if she could, they would have been without the benefit of the training any slave girl typically goes through before sale—nonetheless, she gripped his organ with such rampant appetite and enthusiasm that she was comparable to other more experienced slaves he had had, and she was actually better than some. She kissed and licked well. Her hip movements were inexpert but eager. He came inside her, and she all but melted in his arms, screaming in her submission. “Oh Master!! Master!! Your Slave. Your Slave!! I am Your Slave, Master! Ohhhhhhh, ahhhhhh!!” Her body shook from long-denied passion.

She nearly passed out. And yet again she impressed Alcaeus. Despite the release of longing, she held onto him, stroking his back and legs with her own. When he turned over she continued to stay close to him, pressing her soft breasts close to his chest. More than one untaught slave girl he had had brought to such an extreme of orgasmic relief had been rendered virtually comatose following her first usage.

Untrained and untutored—all but completely untried, in fact—Leusa was still a better fuck than many.

Because he was an honest wizard, he told her as much. “Thank you, master,” she whispered to him. She gently kissed his face.

They lay entwined on the carpet. “What is your name?” he asked her.

She frowned. “I don’t remember, master.”

“But you know what you are?”

Relief on her face. “Yes, master.”

“What are you?”

“I am a slave girl, master. Your slave girl.”

“And how do you feel about being a slave girl?” She would remember this exchange once off the carpet; more importantly, she would remember the feeling. That was the important thing.

“I love being a slave, master. Thank you for using your poor slave.”

“You have no name. Would you like a name?”

“Only if master wishes it. Your slave desires only what her master desires. She is totally his, in all ways.”

“If I am to own you, you will need to have a name.”

“Yes, master.”

“You are Leusa. Your name is Leusa.”

She beamed with happiness. “I am Leusa. I am Leusa the slave girl.” She kissed him hard.

Yes, this she would remember. This moment. That was the important thing for her. He wished her well.

Later, in the back of Leusa’s coach, Alcaeus and his slave rode home. The rug was safely secured in back. His clothes were repaired. He sat on the leather-covered seat, she knelt on the wooden floorboards beside him. “What will become of her, master?” Nessa asked. She touched his leg and looked up at him plaintively.

“Now that Eria Scarphn has broken the taboo against the enslavement of nobles, Leusa will voluntarily surrender her freedom within the month. No woman who has enjoyed the pleasures of slavery can long endure without them.” He gently touched the side of Nessa’s head. “Could you?”

“Master teases his slave. Nessa will never be freed. You will only sell me to another when I begin to tire you.” She leaned her head against his leg. “But Nessa understands. I, too, love being a slave.” She turned her face toward his trousers, breathing hot against him. “Master, please,” she begged.

“Is your need to serve hot upon you?”

“Yes, master,” Nessa said. She caressed his thighs beneath his trousers. “As master knows, Nessa has not been used all day.”

“Did seeing your master rape that noblewoman add to your heat?”

“Yes, master. She will make a hot slave, I’m sure.” Her hands were crawling up the man-wizard’s legs, undoing ties. “But perhaps master is too tired to use his slut now? Could any master put me to the same thorough use so soon afterwards?” She lifted both an eyebrow and the corner of her mouth, returning his teasing. “Surely master is too tired?”

“You think me incapable, slut?” Alcaeus said, not seriously. “I’ll have you know, I am a wizard after all!” And with that his strength once more was potent, and to her pleasure right in Nessa’s face.

“Oh, master!” she cried out, delightedly. And not for the last time during that long trip home, either.