The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Tavia’s skin glistens as she sits strapped in her chair, the moonlight reflecting off her naked skin. Her legs twitch sporadically, her eyes remaining glued to the two women on the television screen. She watches for the millionth time as the blonde and brunnette embrace in a deep kiss. A montage of similar scenes parade before them—a teacher and pupil entwining in a sixty nine, a submissive being spanked by her dominatrix mistress—and on, and on.

The other four girls sit beside her as well, hair matted by desire and sweat, bound together by the wires underneath their feet, and the electrodes between their legs. Their mounds vibrate with electricity as Shana’s shadow hovers in the background. They couldn’t know it, but her wry smile as she thumbs the controls only hints at the depravity to come.

Bzzt. Bzzt Bzzt. Bzzt.

Every so often the homemade film is punctuated by 30 seconds of what can only be described as subliminal advertising. Words like “love”, “truth” and “obedience” flash abruptly across the screen for only a few seconds before disappearing into black. The white haze of the TV illuminates Shana’s face as she looks on—and also the Playstation console that has made this night possible. She grips the slender remote in her right hand, pacing back and forth across the hard oak floor. A thumb rests on the vibration controls—just in case her students need encouragement.

“What is love?” She calls out. “What is truth? What is obedience?”

The sound of lovemaking on the screen goes unabated as her subjects remain silent. Shana frowns.

“I’ll say it again. What is love, what is truth, what is obedience?”

“Love is obedience to our Mistress,” A mousy voice cries out. “Truth is service to Her. Obedience is our reward.”

“Thank you, Courtney.”

The auburn haired teen gasps as another vibration strikes her quinny. The low moan escaps her lips, but it isn’t quite the reward she expected. She whimpers softly as the sensation disappears.

Shana glances at Hilary and Kylie. The two girls bite down hard on their lips. But is it a bite of submission or defiance? It doesn’t matter. They’ve had it coming anyway, and it’s not like they can do much besides—not with the braces holding them in place. Their mistress licks her lips in anticipation of their oncoming punishment.

“Hilary, Kylie? Is there something you two want to share with the class?”

“No ma’am.” The girls respond in unison.

A double strike of electricity pulses through their already moist sexes. The vibration is much harder than either anticipated, the bzzzzt-bzzzzt-bzzzzt-bzzzzt hitting one after the other like aftershocks following an earthquake. Their legs buckle and their knees quake under it’s force. If they could jump out of their seats, they would.

Yet Tavia is oblivious to it all. Her concentration focuses on the growing need between her legs, gathering ever larger. The anticipation accumulates with each moment, each jolt pushing her closer to the edge. But the night is far from over. She looks on as the movie repeats itself, hoping for her own reward...

BZZT! BZZT! BZZT! BZZT!

The cruel sound of an alarm clock shakes Tavia into reality. She groans as she strains to gather the thoughts in her head. A dull fog hangs in her head as the whoosh of highway traffic punctuates the silence. She lays in bed, letting the grogginess taper off gradually.

Voices cry out in the theatre of her mind. A teenage girl’s low moan; a woman’s cackling voice, and Tavia’s own ragged breaths gathering apace as a dam of pent up desire built up below her waist, waiting to be released. It all feels too real to be a dream and yet...

A lone hand wanders towards her underwear as Tavia investigates. Yet her cotton panties feel no more or less wet than they did the day before, or the day after that. She chalks it up to another one of her weird dreams. I have to stop taking those sleeping pills, she chastises herself.

She showers and climbs into a clean pair of underwear. The thought percolates as she pulls the pale orange tank top over her head. Somnambulent feet stumble haphazardly into the daylight as Tavia wanders into the massive area of concrete and brick that is the living room. A crumpled blanket lay on the couch where Kylie usually sleeps, not far from her cherished recumbent bike and other exercise equipment. A handwritten note lies on a coffee table nearby, pinned by a risque paperweight.

“Everybody gone for the weekend,” Tavia glances at the heart-dotted script. “There’s food in the fridge. Help yourself—SE.”

Why her former patient continues to write like a thirteen year-old girl is beyond her, but more importantly, what is Tavia going to do for a couple of days? She smiles as she thinks of the possibilities. But then there is the private practice, the Tudor house on Pierce Street, and of course the mortgage.

Tavia glances at the sunlight streaming through the giant pane glass windows. Ever since she’d moved into the loft, it feels as though she has been drifting from her former life more and more. The only time she ventures out there anymore is to see patients and pay bills as per her Mistress’s arrangement. She never questioned this, or why a group of teenage girls would be living in a converted cigar factory. Something having to do with Hilary’s developer uncle, she once heard Shana say. Even now it feels as though Tavia is sleepwalking through a gray haze, not quite sure her actions are her own.

But she trusted her Mistress, and hoped that she would be rewarded in turn.

She glances every so often at the catwalk marking the upper floor where Shana eats and sleeps apart from the other girls. Sunlight gleams off the windows above, illuminating a trio of small rooms. They occupy the narrow space where Shana eats and sleeps as she works on her ‘special projects’. The area seemed more secretive than anything. Tavia and the girls are expressly forbidden from coming up when Shana is upstairs. The punishments for disobeying this rule are...harsh.

Curiousity gets the better of the doctor as she trudges up the winding metal staircase. The gears in her mind turn with each step. What could possibly keep Shana up here for such a long time?

The answer is more anti-climatic than she would think. Tavia’s eyes feast on a walk-in bedroom/bath. A small refrigerator and sink mark the makeshift kitchen nearby. It would all be drab if not for the lab, decorated ominously with signs that say “KEEP OUT!” and “NO TRESPASSING!”

To Tavia’s surprise, the door is unlocked. Her breath is almost taken away when she walks inside. Bundles of wires lay neatly in a corner of the room. Soldering equipment lays on a table nearby. Looming over it all is a giant machine on Shana’s desk, an hybrid video game console and mad scientist project. A visor and gloves lies on top of it, plugged into a tangled mess of wires running below the floor.

The spectacles are a bit large for her size, feeling awkward astride her pointed nose. The gloves fit comfortably with the contours of her hands, feeling like second skin. A greenish haze floods Tavia’s eyes as the machine whirs to life, .

“MAIN MENU,” the script reads “1. APPLICATIONS 2. ACCESSORIES 3. MAINTENANCE 4. EXTRAS AND UPGRADES 5. OTHER OPTIONS...”

Boring. Tavia thumbs the controls, looking for something more exciting. A dialog box pops up on the screen.

“6. GAMES”

A list of options stares back at the good doctor. The gamut runs from 3D Tennis, 3D Chess, War, Monte Carlo...and a little known item known as Witches and Warlocks.

From the instant Tavia chooses the latter option, her senses are assaulted by a blur of colors that boggle the senses. They play like a multicolored montage that verge on the epileptic. When the colors finally fade, Tavia is astonished to find herself staring at an interminable series of dungeon mazes before her, stretching endlessly into the horizon.

The doctor pinches herself. Her body feels the same but different. The contours of her form are still there, but more...supple, elastic even. She glances at her nearly nude self, taking it all in.

Total sensory immersion. She’d heard of such technology before but this... She glances at the stats in the upper right hand side of her vision.

“TAVIA,” They read. “FEMALE. 19. FIGHTER. XP 100 HP 100.”

She swings the short sword wildly. The weapon is ungainly as she struggles to gain control. It’s all she can do not to hurt herself. Why do I have this, she thinks to herself, and why am I wearing a loincloth?

Not knowing what else to do, the good doctor sets off. Her feet ache as her bare feet touch the dank stone floor. She stops to catch her breath when she spies a figure in the distance. The creature is short and stout, bear hide draped over its verdant chest.

An ogre—no, two. The pair’s eyes lock briefly as hers as Tavia presses her back against the wall. She blanches at the dankness. She prays for them to leave her be. Yet their tell-tale footsteps forecast a much different ending.

Her hands grip the sword tightly. Their low growls echo off the walls as the doctor girds herself. She closes her eyes, preparing herself for battle.

The growl turns into a howl as the sword strikes home. Tavia glances at the ogre’s muscular arm twitching dramatically on the floor, a stump occupying the place where it’d formerly been. The creature’s devilish eyes glower menacingly as it spins around, charging towards its assailant.

Tavia stumbles backwards. She could feel the drip drip drip of perspiration flop from her forehead. Her hands tremble as she struggles to control the weapon. She’d never been in a fight before, much less hand-to-hand combat. The metallic taste of adrenaline lingers on the tip of her tongue. It feels so real, and yet...

The creature groans as Tavia plunges the sword into it’s heart. The ogre’s eyes loll in the back of its head as it falls face first towards the floor. The body shimmers into nonexistence, replaced by a handful of coins on the floor.

A pair of brawny hands grab her from behind. Tavia registers the ogre’s acrid breath tickling her neck as the creature feels her up. Everything seems to pass in slow motion as the doctor freezes, her life passing before her eyes.

So this is how I die, she thinks to herself, being molested by a lascivious monster.

The hands suddenly let go as the ogre lets out a bloodcurdling scream, falling face down on the ground. A glint of light glimmers off the blade in its back. The doctor gasps.

“Looks like you could use some armor,” A voice calls out. “Not to mention clothes.”

Tavia glances at her savior. The figure brushes it’s red cloak aside as it stands before her. The contours of a woman’s breasts on the breastplate suggest a female. But who?

A feminine hand removes the hood over it’s face, revealing...Kylie?

“You’re lucky I came along when I did,” The redhead sizes Tavia up. “Or else you’d be in real trouble. Is this your first time on a quest?”

The doctor nods.

“You look familiar. Have we met?”

“We don’t have much time,” Kylie cuts her off. “We have to get above ground before more of the White Queen’s goons arrive.”

“The White Queen?”

“I’ll explain later,” Kylie motions. “follow me.”

Tavia tags closely behind as Kylie leads her through a labyrinthine maze of secret tunnels and ladders as they evade their would-be pursuers. When they finally arrive above ground, the doctor is surpised to discover a medieval world. Men and women mill about in period dress, completely oblivious to their presence. She is half-tempted to ask whether they’re being paid to wear such antiquated clothing.

Her surprise turns to shock when she discovers Hilary manning the desk at the local armorer’s. The blonde blushes as she glances at Tavia’s nearly naked form.

“Back so soon?” Hilary glances at her lover.

“Afraid I am.”

Hilary and Kylie exchange a kiss.

“My friend is in need of chain mail,” Kylie says without introduction. “and undergarments, if you could spare some.”

Hilary leads her into a backroom. The doctor squirms as the young girl takes her measurements. Supple hands brush against the tawny raven head’s breasts. The doctor lets out a gasp of shock.

“Don’t worry,” Hilary teases her. “you’re not the only one to be on the receiving end of these.”

Tavia could sense the smirk creep along the blonde teen’s face.

“We don’t have much of a selection,” Hilary warns her. “So don’t be picky.”

The doctor takes note of her options. Breastplates lay neatly stocked on their racks. She spies a suit of chain mail in the background. The armor looks like something designed for an Amazon warrior...not a nineteen year old waif with a short sword.

“Is there anything in my size?”

“Come to think of it, we do.”

The blonde disappears momentarily, leaving Tavia to fret. Hilary darts back in, hands full of hide and steel. Her hands strain under the weight of the items. Hilary grunts.

“Some old item of Kylie’s, from her first quest. It isn’t much, but they’ll fit nicely.”

Tavia looks over the clothing. There is a leather thong, strophium, hosery, tunic. Not to mention a breastplate of chain mail. Hilary disappears as the doctor tries them on. The leather undergarments are surprisingly snug and comfortable as Tavia cinches them. The breastplate is heavy as it drapes over her chest. But Tavia is happy with the finished product—for now.

She glimpses at herself in the mirror, eager to slay dragons.

Boots echo off the hardwood floor, catching Tavia off guard.

“It’s almost dusk,” Kylie informs her. “I know a tavern and inn nearby. We need to save our energy for tomorrow.”

Tavia obediently follows Hilary and Kylie, winding through circuituous city streets. The pungent smell of refuse hangs in the air. The doctor turns up her nose in disgust.

The three of them struggle to talk over the din of loud voices inside. Tavia sips furtively from her stein as the lovers attempt to make conversation.

“You never answered my question,” She glances at Kylie.

The redhead and blonde exchange nervous looks.

“What are you talking about?”

“The White Queen, who is she? And who were those goons trying to get me?”

“Those are ogres. They serve as bodyguards for the White Queen. They provide security for the castle and in exchange she grants them certain...favors.”

“I can imagine. But what does the White Queen do exactly, and why haven’t I heard of her before?”

“She used to be the King’s consort,” Kylie parses her words carefully. “but then she got jealous of his power and wanted the realm for herself. With the help of witches she had him killed and his servants and knights as well. Rumor is she derives most of her power from the underworld. She’s said to bathe in the blood of virgin girls—no one who is alive can say either way.”

“Why don’t the people rise up against her? There’s more of them than there are of her.”

Kylie smiles wanly.

“She has them under a spell. She’s convinced them that she’s their protector, when in fact the opposite is true. Even if they resist, she has an army of monsters and demons on her payroll. Intimidation, seduction, bribery, the use of force...she’ll do anything to stay in power, even if our beloved Kingdom crumbles in the process.”

“So when did you two decide to fight back?”

“We didn’t,” Kylie glances at her drink. “I’ve been spared the stockade if I can somehow capture the White Queen.”

“Kylie’s a thief,” Hilary jumps in. “at least, she used to be one.”

“Right, and Hilary’s sister is imprisioned in the castle. So we both have an incentive to see The White Queen gone for good.”

Kylie polishes off her draught, slamming the stein on the wooden table with a hard thud.

“We have a long day ahead of us,” She glances upstairs. “we should get some rest.”

The three stumble up the wooden steps, sure to regret the indulgence.

A knock at the door jolts Tavia awake. They slip out quietly before dawn, using the dark alleys as cover from prying eyes. Kylie leads the way as she directs them through a secret tunnel once used by the King for his nightly trysts. They barely stop throughout the journey, pausing only to bathe in a cistern. At last they arrive at the castle’s underground entrance.

“The dungeon’s through there,” Kylie gestures with her sword. “We’ll fight our way up the dungeon towards the Queen’s bedchamber. There should be a back exit on the other side of the building. If we’re lucky we’ll steal her away without anyone noticing.”

The wind blows ominously as the three look on as the gravity of the mission slowly dawning on them.

“I should mention that the Queen prides herself on trickery. Whatever you come across, be on your guard. The White Queen has no shortage of demons who would think nothing of having their way with us.”

Hilary and Kylie exchange a kiss as the threesome marches on, powered only by surges of adrenaline.

They make quick work of the ogres on the ground floor, slaughtering them with ruthless efficiency. The monsters don’t have a chance as the three gang up on them. Tavia watches as the experience points pile up on her visor. 150...200...250..300...

Up and up they go, the bodies piling up with each level they encounter. Tavia’s confidence turns to cockiness with each kill. She quickly forgets Kylie’s admonition, slaked by bloodlust.

Tavia somehow gets lost in the melee. She stares at two paths diverging in front of her. The correct decision could lead back to the raiding party, the other path, well...

A figure wanders into view, tattered clothes barely hanging on her. Disheveled hair falls around her shoulders. She shivers as she approaches, caramel skin clammy with sweat.

“Another human!” The woman shouts. “Thank heavens!”

“May I help you?”

“There was a change of shifts in the dungeon,” The girl explains. “I managed to escape before the guards took their posts. I heard there was a back exit. Can you help me?”

Tavia studies the woman suspiciously. A voice in the back of her mind warns her to turn away, but the sight of the maiden rents her heart. What did Kylie say again about demons and trickery?

“I don’t know if I can help,” Tavia answers guardedly. “I hardly know my way around myself.”

“What did you say?”

“I said I don’t know if I can help you. A friend of mine warned me to be wary of strangers and...”

“Come closer, I didn’t hear you.”

Against all common sense Tavia complies, bringing the pair face to face. The girl’s almond eyes are beguiling in a mysterious way. Tavia stares at them for the longest time, feeling herself pulled deeper and deeper into them.

The girl’s skin turns a bright red as a pair of horns appear on her head. Crimson eyes glimmer devilishly. The hairs on Tavia’s neck stand on end. She should’ve listened to her gut.

“Your friend was right,” The succubus flicks her forked tongue suggestively.

The demon wraps her thighs around Tavia’s, pressing her erect nipples against the doctor’s own. The succubus pelts her face with kisses as she pulls Tavia closer, eliciting an involuntary moan.

Tavia goes limp in her captor’s arms as the demon’s wings spread. The pair fly away, disappearing into the shadows.

The doctor groans as she wakes up in the Queen’s bedchamber. A breeze of warm air warms her naked body. She struggles against the chains binding her to the table. But it’s no use.

A succubus carries a tray into the room, flashing a smile of recognition that makes Tavia’s skin crawl. An acolyte watches obediently from the shadows.

“I’m almost ready,” A voice calls out. “Is she here?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

A woman with silvery hair wanders into view. Her alabaster skin glitters as she pauses for Tavia to get a good look. The room seems to cool down in her presence as she sashays around.

“I am sure I don’t need to introduce myself,” The White Queen plays with Tavia’s hair.

“The White Queen.”

“The one and only,” The White Queen glances at her assistant. “You’ve already met Carmen.”

The succubus licks her lips lasciviously.

“Where’s Hilary and Kylie?”

“Your friends are indisposed at the moment,” The White Queen smiles suggestively. “That leaves you, me, Carmen, and our friend over there.”

The villainess cocks her head towards the shadows.

“What do you want from me?”

“Your total and complete devotion.”

“And what if I refuse?”

“You won’t.”

Tavia buckles animatedly against her restraints.

“Resistance is useless. Carmen, bring me the oil.”

A tangy scent fills the air as Tavia’s captor slathers herself with the concoction. Her skin glistens with an eerie glow as she straddles the doctor, hips pressed against each other. Elongated fingers caress the doctor tenderly. A pleasant buzz fills her head as The White Queen gyrates against her.

“What is love, what is truth, what is obedience?”

“Love is service to our Mistress. Truth is loyalty to her. Obedience is our reward.”

An orgasmic cry rents the air as both succubus and mistress take turns pleasuring their latest conquest. From who or where no one can say. Tavia surrenders herself to them with each touch and caress, until her body can give no more...

The scene couldn’t be more bucolic across town as Shana naps in her parent’s house. She lets out a sigh as she pulls the covers tighly over her. The whir of white noise envelopes her. There are no distractions here. No moans, no purrs, no cries. Just the whir of white noise, lulling her into a dreamy sleep.

BZZT! BZZT! BZZT! BZZT!

The vibrating sound startles her awake. She groans as she kicks the covers awake. A pic of Tavia’s splayed out form greets her as she glances at her cell phone. She suddenly remembers how she programmed the motion cameras in her laboratory to send her an alert whenever an intruder entered. And oh, what a site it is.

An impish smile crosses her face.

That should teach her, Shana places the cell phone aside.

The blonde teen pulls the covers over again, enjoying a languid Saturday afternoon.