The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Muller wasn’t sure if she was in a dream. If so, it was a very pleasant one. The soft, lapping sensations from between her legs complemented the silky feel of the sheet underneath her, and the equally silky hair that caressed her thighs.

The lapping, and its associated tingling, paused for a moment and she groaned in frustration.

“Oh no, don’t stop now...”

“Just a moment, Captain,” said a soft voice, and Muller felt the tongue slide into her at a different angle. She gave a small, happy squeal.

“Oh yes, right there...”

As she gently rose to the surface of wakefulness, something was tugging at her mind. She remembered collapsing on the silken bed in that room hung all around with curtains, but what then...?

Her eyes opened to the sight of a small blonde head bobbing between her legs, and an equally small body in silk nightgown curled around her.

“Robinson?”

The attention to her sex stopped, and Robinson’s face rose into view. “Good morning, Captain.”

For once, Muller was lost for words. Not only had she ended up ordering one of her ensigns to fuck her Captain’s brains out, but now one of her crew members was—apparently voluntarily—giving her Captain the kind of close personal attention that was normally only from a betrothed one. If news of this level of fraternization ever got back to the Alliance, the legal officers’ heads would likely explode.

“You must have been so tired,” Robinson sympathized. “We debated whether to wake you at all, but in the end thought that some gentle tongue might be the appropriate level of arousing.”

“We?” Muller sat up, careful not to squash the smaller woman who was still entwined with her legs.

“About half the crew are here right now,” Robinson confirmed, lifting a corner of curtain that then showed much more of the harem room. A number of low beds and couches were spread across it, with crew members in various levels of undress entertaining each other on and around them. A large sunken bath accommodated maybe six of the crew—it was hard to count heads or limbs among all the bubbles.

Muller had many questions suddenly bubbling up in her mind, but landed on probably the lamest one. “Are you all OK?”

Robinson laughed, and several of the nearby crew joined her. “Captain, we’ve been treated so well. They took us in, showed us how we’d been repressed, and helped us enjoy our inner feelings together. They are so nice!” She paused. “How about you, Captain?”

Muller cast around for an answer. “It has been... interesting, I’ll say that. I have a lot to think about.”

“Don’t think too much, Captain,” advised one of the maintenance crew. “We’ve been doing that all through our work with the Alliance, and look where it got us—or rather, where it kept us. Now we can enjoy being who we are inside. Don’t you enjoy it?”

Muller mumbled something non-committal, and was grateful when two robots suddenly showed up at the entrance.

“I guess Aunty Em hasn’t finished with me. I’ll see you all later, I hope...”

She wrapped herself in an available robe, and joined her robot escort, casting a wistful look back at the bubble bath.

The robots marched her through an unfamiliar part of the space. Clearly, they weren’t going back to Em’s rooms, so what did she have in mind? Muller tried to memorize the layout as they descended several decks, but the anonymous design of the corridors was not helpful.

Finally, they arrived at a pair of double doors. The robots entered a code, and the doors hissed open to reveal a starship landing bay.

Muller couldn’t help but admire the ship that was parked there. It wasn’t huge—no more than about fifteen meters long—but it was elegantly designed, and clearly tuned for speed. If her estimates were correct, it was a high-performance one- or two-person speedster, capable of light speed travel.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” chirped Em, walking around from the other side of the ship.

“Gorgeous,” admitted Muller. “Is she yours?”

“Mine? Oh, my darling, I wouldn’t know what to do with her. No, dear Katie, she’s yours.”

Muller blinked, not sure that she had heard correctly. “Mine? What do you mean by that?”

Em laughed. “I’m not sure I could express it more simply, Katie. Yours to do with, as you wish. Fully fueled, ready to go.” She patted a small pile of clothing on a nearby table. “Here’s a spacer uniform for you. I hope you like magenta.”

Muller, disbelieving, walked along the side of the ship. It certainly appeared space worthy, crafted for real interstellar flight. There were no markings of allegiance to either Imperium or Alliance.

She thought for a while, then turned back to Em.

“I could put on these clothes, get in, take off, and you’d let me go?”

“Of course, dear Katie.”

“I could take whoever I wanted with me?”

“Well, darling, it’s only a two-seat craft, so only one other person. Of course, they would need to want to go with you—we’re not going to let you kidnap people!” Em giggled.

Muller stood there for a while longer, lost in her thoughts, while Em waited patiently with a knowing smile on her face.

Finally, she sighed in defeat. “Oh, Em. The things you’ve showed me—showed us, rather...” She stroked the side of the ship. “I had it all wrong, didn’t I?”

“How do you mean, Katie?” Em’s smile was growing broader.

“I thought this was all a trick,” Muller confessed. “I kept looking for the flip side, but it was never there—like a Mobius loop, there’s only actually one side of it. You want us to be with you, but you don’t want that because of you—you want it because of us.“

“A masterful analysis!” Em clapped. “Sometimes, my darling, it really is as simple as it looks. I—we all—simply want you to be happy. If you’re happy, then you’ll stay with us. We just have to show you how to be happy—and how happy you can be.”

She took the younger woman in her arms, and Muller rested her head on Em’s silk- clad shoulder, smelling her familiar perfume.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t believe you, Aunty Em.”

“That’s quite all right my dear,” Em assured her, patting her back. “Why don’t we go back to my rooms and have a little play?”

Muller giggled, shyly. “I’d like that.”

Em beckoned to someone behind her. “I think someone would like to talk to you first, though.”

Muller turned, surprised to see—of all people—her missing raider commander Alice Andersen, dressed in a maroon silk robe.

“Alice! I thought something horrible had happened to you and Julie.”

“The exact opposite, Captain.” Andersen stepped forward, and hugged Muller. “Julie and I met Aunty Em a few months ago. We had such a lovely time with her, and she showed us how to enjoy ourselves.”

Em nodded, still smiling. “And didn’t you just, darling Alice!”

“I have a confession, Captain.” Andersen suddenly looked guilty. “Julie and I were the reason you had your reactors shot out. We needed you to come and see Aunty Em, and I couldn’t think of any other way.”

“Oh Alice, it’s all right.” Muller patted her on the shoulder. “You should see the crew—they’re so happy to be here. I’m glad you did it, after all.”

Andersen beamed. “Thank you, Captain. And, we’ve been making amends—Aunty Em and her friends have supplied us with replacement reactors. Julie and I, and a few other crew, have been overseeing their installation, and the ship is just about ship shape once more.”

“No harm done then,” Muller said, with relief. “Although at the moment, I don’t think I want to take her anywhere away from here.”

“I know what you mean, " said Andersen mischievously. “Tell you what, let’s go with Aunty Em to see Amelie. She and I can give you a lovely treat.”

Muller tried to relax herself, lying on the couch in her loose robe, but she wondered what Alice and Amelie had in store for her.

Amelie had removed her hood, and took up a position behind Muller’s head. “You’re very tense, Katie. Please let yourself go. We’ve got you.”

She wrapped a headband around Muller’s hair, pulling it away from her face. “You don’t have to close your eyes for this, but you may find it helps you relax.”

Muller tentatively closed her eyes, and almost immediately Amelie’s soft hands, slick with lotion, started to glide across her temples and cheeks. The repetitive motion was extremely soothing, and Muller felt her whole body starting to relax in response.

“How are you doing th... " she mumbled.

“Ssshhh Katie...” Amelie subtly adjusted her strokes in response, and Muller felt her eyelids grow heavier. It was as if she were sinking into the couch, further in with each stroke on her face.

Muller quickly lost track of time, falling into a dreamlike state. She only vaguely registered her robe being slipped open, but when a second pair of warm hands started to caress and moisten her breasts, it was surprising enough to bring her nearly all the way out of her trance.

“What...?”

“Let go, Captain.” Alice’s voice was quiet but firm. “Just let me in.”

Amelie’s strokes changed again, and Muller felt herself sinking back into the half-dream world. The new massaging of her breasts, with the occasional tickling tease of fingertips around her nipples, was like nothing she’d every experienced before. Eventually, she surrendered completely, her last few muscles going loose, and soaked in the sensations from her face and chest.

By the time that Andersen’s wandering hands slipped between her legs, to start work on her apology to her Captain, Muller was helpless...

Captain Ramirez was enjoying her time in command of the Alliance deep space station. It wasn’t for everybody—she knew a number of captains for whom exploration was everything, and who would have gone slowly mad if anchored to a static vessel such as this, but for Ramirez the constant flow of traffic in and out of the station, and the opportunity to meet so many other people, was fulfilling enough.

She appreciated the design of the station. The Alliance’s strict sex segregation led to two major docking rings on the station, stacked one above the other. Female-crewed vessels docked at the top on Ramirez’s ring; male-crewed docked below on the ring commanded by Ramirez’s counterpart, Commander Schultz. Ramirez didn’t mind Schultz—he was a competent leader and well-organized, and best of all was quite taciturn so she didn’t have to speak to him much.

Her operations officer called for her attention. “Captain, we have an Alliance cruiser on initial approach, asking for permission to dock.”

“A cruiser? Interesting. Who is it?” Ramirez walked over to the ops console, peering over Ops’ shoulder.

“Captain Muller’s ship, ma’am.”

“Ha! I heard she was around this area, but I didn’t expect her to drop in.” Ramirez moved to the comms console. “Alliance cruiser, please identify.”

The video screen snapped into life. Captain Muller’s smiling face appeared. “Hi, Ram. How are you doing?”

“The better for seeing you, chica” Ramirez purred. “What are you up to in these parts?“

“Oh, a little of this, little of that,” Muller said, coyly. “I’ll tell you more over a drink—as long as you promise not to synthesize that damn 21st Century tequila again!”

“No promises, no promises!” Ramirez laughed. “Okay, it’s just you and a cargo ship on approach right now. You’ll beat them in by a while, I expect. Ops will give you your course cues.”

“Roger that. See you in a few hours, Ram.” The video screen clicked off.

Ramirez checked her chronometer. She’d be getting off shift a couple of hours after Muller’s cruiser was due to arrive—perfect! There was a lot for them to catch up on.

Her ops officer coughed politely to bring her attention back. “Captain? The cruiser has an unusual energy signature.”

“Unusual how?” Ramirez leaned down to squint at the screen, following the ops officer’s small fingers as she traced several items on the display.

“The emitted power is about the right level for a cruiser,” Ops admitted, “but look at the frequency and shape of the fluctuations.” She pulled up a reference trace from her library. “This is what I’d expect to see—sawtooth peaks, not these more rounded minimums. It doesn’t look like a regular Alliance plasma reactor output.”

“I see your point.” Ramirez stroked her chin. “But the beacon is correctly encoded, yes?”

“Confirmed,” admitted Ops.

“And that was definitely Kate Muller on the view screen just now.” Ramirez stood up. “Well spotted, Ops, but I suspect Captain Muller and her engineering team have been playing around with their power configuration. It will be interesting to see what they’ve found out, though. Make a note for me to talk with their Chief Engineer—Kopel, I think.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Ops switched back to her main display and started to plot a course for Muller’s cruiser.

Ramirez settled back in her chair, and continued her scrolling through the crew fitness reports. The day had just got a lot more interesting.

Docking Bay Five’s crew was very small considering its size. Designed to take connections from the largest Alliance ships, the bay was a full twenty meters across, and still at least half full with hoses, cables, and expanding connectors of various sorts designed to mate and exchange gases, fluids, data, power, and even people.

The three crew double-checked the seal readings on the primary connector, designed to allow people and cargo transit. The bay itself was isolated from the rest of the docking ring, so any explosive decompression would be limited in its damage, but none of the crew were in a hurry to go floating off into the void, so were scrupulous in their checks. Finally satisfied, they released the manual locks, and Joan—their leader—entered her authorization code into the digital controller.

The connector door hissed briefly, as the small pressure differential was equalized, then slid open.

“Welcome to the station!” Joan peered down the tube beyond the portal.

There were heavy footsteps, and a tall woman appeared, pushing a cart that carried several large white-painted cylinders. Her features were partly obscured by a uniform headscarf that covered her down to her shoulders.

“I am Lt Commander Kopel, Engineering. I need to recharge these cylinders, urgently. Which way to Life Support?”

Joan snapped to attention. “Ma’am! Out of the double doors, turn right, about thirty degrees around the ring—look for the sign.”

“Thank you, Crewman.” Kopel pushed her load past the crew, and out of the bay. Joan admired her strength—those cylinders must have been over two hundred kilos, and even on a cart that was a heavy load, but Kopel didn’t seem to be even remotely struggling.

She turned her attention to the rest of the couplings. “Power... comms... Waste... Okay, I think we’re good here. Crewman, signal the cruiser that she’s fully docked.”

“Aye, aye, boss.” One of the crew tapped rapidly on a console. “And... done.”

“Good job, people.” Joan consulted her hand-held device. “All right, let’s hustle to Bay Eight. That cargo ship has caught up, and almost ready to dock.”

The docking crew gathered their equipment and hustled out into the main docking ring.

Kopel casually pushed her load down the main ring corridor, her concealed cybernetic limbs and exoskeleton making light work of the effort. The interface at the back of her head kept up a light stimulation, holding her in a pleasant and semi-dreaming state. All she was attentive to was the mission passed on from Dr Reyes—whenever she thought of the doctor, she felt a warm tickle inside her, and sighed in desire.

Life Support was an unglamorous engineering space, buried deep down a corridor that branched from the main ring walkway. Kopel patiently pushed her cargo down this passage, finally reaching the double doors guarding the space. She briefly rested the cart in order to tap on the call panel.

“Lt Commander Kopel. I have a delivery for Life Support from Captain Muller.” She swiped her Alliance ID badge to authenticate herself.

There was a pause, then the doors hissed open to reveal a puzzled-looking crewman.

“Commander, welcome to the station. I’m Chief Petersen. But... what are you delivering?”

“Allow me to show you.” Kopel wheeled the cart into the Life Support space, careful to clear the doors so that they closed behind her. She quickly surveyed the room, identifying three other crew beside Petersen, and released the cart.

Suddenly exploding into action, she sprinted past Petersen, far faster than any normal person. As she passed, her cybernetic hand shot out and gripped Petersen’s neck; a half second discharge of high voltage power from contacts in her fingers dropped Petersen to the ground like a rag doll.

Her next target was a space between two crew members. As she reached it, only a few seconds after stunning Petersen, she swept her arms out to embrace both crew at once—and slammed them hard together, knocking the breath from both of them.

The fourth crew member had finally begun to react to the invasion of her space. She ran to the comms console—only ten meters away, it might as well have been a kilometer. Kopel effortlessly caught up with her, and a second electrical pinch ended any resistance.

Kopel walked back to the two breathless crew, writhing on the deck, and carefully stunned each in turn. She then hit her comm badge, communicating to the newly arrived cargo ship.

“Kopel here; commencing installation.”

One by one, she hauled the large cylinders to pipe valves lined along one wall. Each cylinder was secured, high pressure hoses secured to the valves, and then the valves opened to let the cylinder contents flood into the station’s life support system.

Final cylinder opened, she sat down at Chief Petersen’s chair and hit her comm badge again.

“Kopel; installation complete.”

Instantly, a huge bolt of sexual pleasure ran through her. She clutched at the desk—her cybernetic fingers leaving dents—and groaned in ecstasy while her interface played her like a violin...

Bay Eight was smaller than Five, but the procedures were similar. Joan’s crew verified the positioning of the cargo ship—an unfamiliar design to them, but clearly signaling Alliance protocols—and set up the critical connections. Finally satisfied with the configuration, they released the main connector door, and signaled their completion through to the cargo ship’s bridge.

They took their time cleaning up their equipment, since no other ship was due to arrive for a while, and Joan took a seat at one of the consoles to start entering her docking reports on both ships. They were absorbed in their work, and so it was a while before the steady tramp of feet from within the connection tunnel registered with them.

Joan peered around the console with idle curiosity as the first few figures emerged from the tunnel. What she saw, however, jerked her into alertness and put all thoughts of paperwork aside.

She opened a comms channel to the bridge, fingers darting over her console.

“Bridge, docking bay Eight, priority.”

“Bay Eight, go ahead.” Ramirez’s voice sounded bored, though Joan was certain that would quickly change.

“Captain, we have robots emerging from the cargo ship. They are not Alliance design, I repeat, not Alliance design. Please advise.“

The robots continued to march out of the ship, some of them pushing transports piled high with containers; others, unencumbered, currently ignoring the three wide-eyed crew.

Ramirez blinked, as the message from Bay Eight registered. “Not Alliance robots?”

She swung to face Ops. “Ops, re-scan that cargo ship. What the hell is it?”

Ops tapped at her keyboard, paused, tapped again, and cursed, holding up her hands in confusion. “Ma’am, I can’t type...”

Ramirez became aware of tremors in both her arms. She tried to enter an emergency code into her seat keypad, but to no avail.

“W-ww-what is...?” Even her voice was starting to wobble.

Around the bridge, crew collapsed onto their stations, or slid onto the floor, as their nervous systems were somehow overwhelmed. Ramirez’s paralysis left her in her chair, looking across her bridge but completely unable to move her body, or even her fingers. She was staring at Ops, who was lying on the floor staring straight back at her Captain.

This tableau remained frozen for more than half an hour, until the bridge doors finally hissed open. Ramirez heard the heavy tramp of many feet, and eventually saw eight robots enter her vision as they spread across the bridge. Each attended to a crew member: administering a gas injection to their neck, then effortlessly picking them up to place them on one of a number of carts they had brought along. Ramirez ruefully reflected that Bay Eight had been correct—these were certainly not Alliance robots, and were not executing any sort of Alliance mission. But how had they got through security?

Ramirez watched Ops as she was selected. Only seconds after the injection, Ops’ eyes fluttered closed, and she made no sound or movement as she was removed from the floor.

There was pressure against her own neck, and a cold hiss indicated that she was next in line. As the powerful sedative took effect, and she slid down a tunnel into darkness, she hoped that Muller at least would be able to escape...