The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Emily had never noticed the storefront before. Squeezed in between a cell phone store and a nail salon. Just a black-painted façade with a frosted glass door, and the name of the business in gold leaf lettering. Very tasteful, very low-key. The lettering said, “Wonderbox.” Lights were on inside, glowing warmly through the diffusing glass.

She passed it, and stopped, and backed up. Was this even a store? Was it an art project? She put her hand on the door, and gave it a gentle, tentative push. It opened a fraction of an inch. She was suddenly nervous, as if she was about walk in on something… something she didn’t really want to see. But her curiosity won out, and she pushed the door open, and walked in.

It was a small room, high. Trendy lightbulbs in an old-fashioned style glowed in a line down the middle. The floor was dark wood, polished until it gleamed. About half way down the room was a high desk set to one side, and a young man sitting behind it. He was dressed in what could only be a costume: Striped shirt under a dark brown vest, hair slicked back, round glasses. He even had garters on his shirt sleeves. He looked up. His smile was disarming.

There was a moment of awkward pause. She didn’t know what to ask, and “What is this place?” seemed rude. He gestured towards the back of the room, a grand sweep of his arm, an MC starting the show.

Along the back was a row of three machines. Each was standing on sturdy legs, with a round body. There was a viewing port set in each one, and a coin slot in the front. Sturdy metal handle on either side. Even though she’d never seen something like this before, she could tell what was expected: you put a coin in the slot, and you looked into the viewer.

With an equally dramatic sweep, he gestured to a fancy, hand-painted sign on the front of the desk. “Wonderbox! 25¢ per token!” it proclaimed.

She walked forward, opened her purse, and fished out a quarter. She put it down on the counter. The click of the coin almost made her jump; she realized that was the first sound she’d heard since she walked in, except for her shoes on the floor. He smiled, gave a small bow, and slid a brass token across the desk to her.

She hadn’t said anything since she walked in, and now, it had become a challenge. She smiled, took it, mouthed “thank you” without speaking, and walked over to the machines. She looked at them. They were identical, but which one to pick suddenly seemed a matter of grave importance to her. With a deep breath, she concluded that the one on the right was the one for her. She stepped up, put the token in the slot (there was a soft jingle as it fell), and looked into the viewer, hands on the handles to steady herself. She had to bend over quite far to see into the machine.

There was nothing but blackness, at first. The machine whirred, softly, and then the flicker of the end of a roll of film filled the screen inside. Then, a sepia-toned title card, shaking, appeared: “A Visit to the Alienist.” The what?

The title card was replaced by a scene in an overwrought Victorian (or was it Edwardian? she could never tell) parlour. The film continued in sepia, no colors. A woman in a long dress was sitting very primly on a couch. From her figure, she was wearing a corset, and her dark hair was done up. She was very pretty, but had a serious, reserved expression. Whatever was happening was something she barely approved of.

Standing a few feet in front of her was a man in a very sharp suit. His hat was conspicuous on a hat-stand behind him. He had a gold watch chain across his vest, dark beard with shots of gray, and small glasses. He looked like he could be the father of the young man at the counter, she thought.

The movie was silent, but he was explaining something to the woman. She was receiving his explanation coolly, haughty. He finished, and waited for her to reply. After a long pause, she nodded crisply, giving her assent to… something.

The man returned the nod, and left the frame of the movie. He returned shortly, pushing what could only be called a “contraption.” It was a mechanical device, standing on a platform with wheels. The body of it was an oval, and on the front, was a very large disk, taller than the man. The disk faced the woman, but was edge-on to the camera, so it was impossible to tell what was on it.

He examined the device for a few moments, and carefully adjusted some knobs on it. With a nod of satisfaction, he pulled a large lever, and the disk began to turn.

The woman looked at the disk, puzzled. The man walked to a space between the woman and the disk, although far enough back that he did not block her view. He was giving her some kind of instructions (how Emily wished there was sound!), and she nodded, and turned until she faced directly into the disk.

The film suddenly jumped, and the camera was now much closer to the woman. It was just off to one side, focused on her face. She was looking at the disk, a slightly puzzled expression. The film continued on her, and her puzzled expression slowly disappeared, replaced with a very neutral one. Her eyes slowly became wider, staring and unblinking, and her mouth opened slightly. Her expression now looked stunned or shocked, and her head seemed fixed, her eyes glued to whatever was on the disk.

Emily had lost any sense of time. It might have been just a few seconds, or a few minutes, or an hour. The film continued to show the woman’s unmoving, blank face for some time.

Then, the film cut back to show the whole scene. The woman was sitting, back even straighter than before, staring at the disk. The man was looking at the woman with an expression of smug satisfaction. Then, he turned and looked straight into the camera. Even though she knew that this was a film, Emily suddenly felt very exposed, nearly jumping back. She felt like she’d been a voyeur, sneaking a peak through a hole in the wall, and she’d suddenly been spotted.

The man stepped back to the controls of the machine, and with some effort, began turning it. The disk was swinging around, turning so that it was facing the camera. Emily thought that she should stop now, look up, but she was desperate with curiosity as to what was on the disk, what had put the woman in the movie into a trance.

The disk swung around. On it was a black spiral, on a gleaming white background. The disk was slowly turning, making the spiral seem to continuously move inwards towards the center. Emily looked at it, and immediately felt drawn in. It was almost physical, as if there was a force pulling her towards the disk, into the center of the spiral. She stared.

The man was invisible behind the disk, except for his shoes. The disk began moving closer to the camera, being pushed from behind, and soon, it filled the entire frame. Emily stared into it, the feeling of being drawn in and down into it becoming stronger and stronger. She felt a little bit giddy, like vertigo, like she was about to fall into the viewer and down into the disk and fall down, down...

She could feel her own face relax, just like the face of the woman in the movie. Her eyes got wide, and her mouth open, staring into the disk. It was pulling her into it, pulling, pulling… she was fixed in place, unable to move, hardly able to even blink.

The feeling of falling became more like one of… suction. The disk was a vacuum, and it was pulling everything into itself. She could feel it, feel its power drawing her in… drawing her mind in. She felt as though her thoughts were being sucked out of her, drained into the disk, one by one disappearing until her mind would be completely empty, devoid of thought, just her staring into the spiral, letting it take all of her thoughts… all of them falling…

Then, the disk began backing away again. She kept looking at it, but she knew that it had done its job. A part of her still could think about what was going on, but it was just a spectator. Her mind was otherwise completely empty, her body frozen in place. Soon the man had pushed the disk back out of the frame. The woman was still sitting there, staring, not having moved at all.

The man then came over to the woman, and gestured to her to rise. She stood up. He made more gestures, a hand telling her to turn. She turned to face the camera, her eyes not focused on anything.

Then, he started to undress her. First her bodice came off, and then the first of her skirts. Emily watched, fascinated, as item after item of clothing was removed and neatly put aside. During all this, the woman stood fixed in place, staring, only moving when the man positioned her to assist in her being stripped.

It took some time, but soon, the woman was only wearing her corset, some pants-like white undergarments, and her black shoes. The man moved around her, inspecting her. She had quite a large bosom, and a very narrow waist. The inspection was, apparently, satisfactory.

He then turned her to face him, and with a gentle push on her shoulders, had her kneel. He then reached down, undid the fly on his trousers, and produced his cock. He was already half-hard, and a few quick strokes brought him to a full erection. She did not react even to this; she continued to stare ahead, not at his cock, or at anything.

He then presented the head of his cock to her mouth. She opened her lips far enough to take it in, apparently with him giving her instructions (why couldn’t there be sound! she wanted to hear what he was telling her!). She then began to suck on him.

No, that wasn’t right. He began to mouth-fuck her. She didn’t move; he put his hands on her head to steady it in place, and slid his cock in and out of her unresisting mouth. There was something obscene, and very arousing, about watching the woman be used as a living sex toy. Emily’s mouth opened into a blow job O, her tongue sliding back and forth at the bottom of her mouth, as if his cock were in her mouth, and she was accepting it, letting him use her, just using her tongue to pleasure him as he fucked her mouth.

After what seemed like a delicious eternity, the man popped out of her mouth. Emily gave a small moan of disappointment… she wondered if the woman in the movie had made the same noise. With a gesture, slightly impatient, the man waved towards the couch. The woman stood up, with the man’s assistance, sat on the couch, and reclined back. She spread her legs. The underwear was split-crotch, and even from this distance, Emily could see how wet the woman was.

The man came over, knelt down between the woman’s legs, and guided his cock into her. He began to fuck her, first slowly, then faster. Emily clenched her cunt, or it clenched on its own, and she could feel how wet she’d become. She desperately wanted to be that woman, to be fucked, to be taken and enjoyed and used for his pleasure.

And then, Emily felt hands on her ass. She was being stroked, caressed by someone. She couldn’t move to see who it was; all she could do was wiggle her ass, a little bit, to show how welcome the touch was. The hands stroked her for a few moments, then began to lift up her skirt.

In the movie, the man was now fucking the woman from behind, her on her hands and knees on the floor, facing the camera. Emily’s skirt was now hiked up, and she could feel her panties being slid down. Her body moved on its own, stepping out of them, and spreading her legs wider. Fingers played with her pussy, spreading her wetness, spreading her open...

And then a cock slid into Emily. It was incredible. She allowed whoever it was to fuck her, fucking back as much as she could without disturbing her view of the movie. Whoever he was, he was not small, and he filled her perfectly. She wanted to encourage him, tell him how much she needed it, wanted it, wanted to be taken and used and enjoyed by him, but she could only stare into the viewer.

In the movie, the man had the woman back on her feet. He was close to her, staring into her eyes, telling her things. For the first time, the woman focused her eyes on him, and nodded as he spoke to her. Emily was desperate to know what he was doing to her. Making her fall in love with him? Making her think that he was her husband? Turning her into his mistress? Or maybe just making her into his sex-slave, compliant, obedient, and always willing to serve him, do what he wished, let him take his pleasure with her as he wanted, anytime he wanted.

Then, he reached behind her, and pulled the pins out of her hair. Masses of curly black hair fell down her back, past her ass. This was as erotic as the sex, and the woman gasped, closed her eyes, and arched her back in an orgasm as her hair fell. This seemed to be the final act, that she was completely his, under his power, his willing servant, owned by him.

The man behind Emily was continuing to fuck her, agonizingly slow and exquisite. She desperately wanted to come, but something was denying it to her. She wanted to fuck back, grab him, make him speed up, but that was impossible. She was just there to allow him to do his will with her.

The woman in the movie had sunk back down to her knees. She was licking the man’s balls as he stroked himself. Her eyes were now closed, and her expression more animated. Had he finished transforming her? Emily wondered what he’d done to her, what thoughts he’d planted into her head, how he had reached in and changed her and made her a whole new person, eager, obedient, desperately in love with him, her whole body his to use as he wished…

The camera moved again, close to the woman’s face. She was leaning back, mouth open wide in a smile. She looked happy, eager. She nodded, saying something, something no doubt encouraging. Then, suddenly, from off-camera, he came, cum raining down on her face. He might have been aiming for her mouth, and a lot fell in there, but it sprayed on her face, her throat, her cleavage… amazingly, none seemed to get into her eyes. She smiled up at him, her eyes twinkling, a woman who had just been given a wonderful gift by her beloved.

And the man fucking Emily came then, too, and Emily’s brain exploded in an orgasm. She screamed out, the spell of the movie breaking, and grabbed the handles of the viewer, her cunt spasming again and again.

And then, suddenly, he was gone, and her skirt was back down. She shuddered, and stood up. The man was still behind the counter, looking down at some papers. He looked over at her, and gave her a friendly smile. She did her best to return the smile, and walked out, unsteadily, her body moving on its own.

When she got back home, her panties were in her purse.

The next evening, she dressed carefully. She wore a skirt that was long enough to be decent, but only just. She wore heels that raised her ass to a more convenient height. She did not wear panties. She wore bright red lipstick to advertise her mouth’s… availability. She squeezed herself into a bustier top, and walked back to the storefront.

The lights were on. When she entered, the room was full of the soft whirring of machines. Two women were already there, one on the left machine, one on the center, looking down into them. They had dressed carefully, too.

She was very happy to see that her machine was available.

Emily walked directly up to the counter. The same young man was there. She boldly met his eye, and with a small smile, slid a five dollar bill across the counter.