The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The world floods back in, and a lot of things are suddenly different. A blindfold is tied over my eyes, my hands are bound up over my head, and I feel a whole lot more clothed than I did a second ago. My ankles are trapped in place too, but that seems less important.

My thoughts are moving a lot quicker, too. I don’t feel quite right around the edges, but I can think clearly enough to be furious. Being kidnapped sucks, but it doesn’t get me angry. Doing something to my cousin? That pisses me off.

I tug hard as I can at the restraints, but I’m held tight. Even turning metal I can’t tug hard enough to break myself free. One of these days having a mild edge of super strength is going to come in handy. People just need to start underestimating me. Lately it seems like people either have me right on the money or are expecting a lot more than I can do. Did Mourning Frost think I could stop this threat?

At least, I hope I’ve been captured by the same people as before. Otherwise I have another very big problem to deal with. Thankfully, the issues like to hit me single file.

“Good morning, Aurora. It’s really a pleasure to have you here again. It’s a shame you got away before, but it was necessary.” Doctor Lys is really the last person I wanted to hear right now. I scowl and turn away from her voice, tugging harder at the restraints. The ones holding my arms feel strange, like they’re inside of something and strapped to a bar instead of just ropes or chains or cuffs. “It will be a mutual pleasure soon enough.”

“Fuck you!” I hiss as loudly as I can, twisting twist a little harder. If the bonds felt like they were budging a little, I would feel a whole lot better right now.

Her heels click closer, and she slides her fingers through my hair. “A lovely new look, and what happened was the only way you’d ever acquire it. At least, within my time table. You understand, I hope. Besides, you deserved some alone time with your precious sister. Not that you won’t be seeing her soon enough . . .”

She’s trying to goad me. I know she is. That doesn’t make it any easier to resist swearing as loud as I can. She’s responsible for whatever happened to Mina. She’s got to be the one behind whatever happened to Sarah and Valerie . . .

Hope even said as much. I’m not looking forward to seeing her again, either. I know by then I’ll probably love her all over again, or at least be on the same side, but she used me. Her every smile will be a gloat. If I ever get out of this, and she does too, I might break her nose.

Doctor Lys laughs, tugging my hair back sharply. My scalp and my hair might be metal at the moment, but it still hurts. “Later, perhaps. The fucking, that is. We’re not going to rush back into the same approach with you, Aurora. The classroom? You’ve been expelled. That facility has been dismantled. A majority of it has been destroyed or sold. The useful components have been transported into Midas, where my brighter future will begin its next phase. You will play a very important role in that phase.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Do you really think what you’re doing is justified?! You aren’t my first super villain, and most of them were at least a little more honest with their motives.” Growling, I try to tear my hair out of her grasp with a quick shake of my head. “Tunnel wants the money and the sex. What do you want, Doctor? Do you even grasp what you’re doing?”

She laughs. It’s not a crazy laugh. It’s not an angry laugh. She’s laughing at me like I asked why the sun turns gray at night. I growl louder and tug harder at my bonds. They still won’t budge.

Her fingers curl under the blindfold and tug it away. I know her from more than just my visit to her office. I can’t remember how, or why, but I know I’ve seen her before. Hope’s words definitely ring true. Her heels are a soft pink, a shade of pink that makes me think it’s the cuddling equivalent to fuck-me-red. Her skirt is black, modest, and so is the blouse she’s wearing under her lab coat. Lab coats make me think of Professor Gold, but that’s where that association ends.

The bonds holding my arms are even worse than I thought. My arms are encased in golden metal all the way to my elbows. It’s shaped like different sheets of metal laid over each other, almost looking like they could expand or shrink, but the rings around my elbow and presumably my wrists make it look too inflexible. There are some small electric readouts, but I’m too far down to read. As lovely as that is, the cylinders are just part of a larger apparatus.

Large, mechanical, frightening, the apparatus covers the ceiling of the room and looks like it covers the wall behind me. The more I look, the more it’s obvious the entire room is built just for this machine. On either side of me are metal floor-to-ceiling chambers that vaguely resemble ‘AA’ batteries.

Hanging above me is a golden helmet, complete with opaque visor.

“So, what’s the deal, Doc? Got me recharging your batteries while you fuck away my mind? That’s original.” I roll my eyes, fighting to hide a bit of a shiver. One of the reasons Mom didn’t want us super heroineing before we were adults was she didn’t want some super villain to look at a pair of inexperienced supers, see our potential, and shove us into a cramped little space, my head up and her head down. “Maybe if you had a few of those really tall Tesla coils around it would at least have an interesting aesthetic.”

“You only think you lie well. It’s amazing how much of a disadvantage that can be. In the past, I imagine people wanted to believe you. I know better.” Doctor Lys cups my cheeks and moves my head so my eyes lock with hers. “This isn’t fun for you. You don’t need to pretend. I’m a doctor.”

It’s a mocking laugh, and I think the volume makes that obvious, but I just can’t stop laughing. It’s such hard laughter that my chest starts hurting almost instantly as my eyes fill with tears. She’s a doctor. If only the world were so black and white.

She shakes her head like a teacher with a very slow student. It’s a shake I’ve seen a little too often. “You lack a strong locus. Your cousin would not have been so effective if you had one. As it was, a few well-timed words had you melting. Then your old friend Anachronista helped finish the job of escorting you here. I’d reintroduce you more lucidly, but Ana is having a little rest. You did quite a number on her, you remember. It’s amazing I was able to help her as much as I was.”

“You only helped her because she could help you!” I tug harder, feeling something give, before I realize that something closes the bonds around my arms tighter. “Nnn! If you’re trying to make me feel guilty, you’ve gotta try harder. Anachronista was a member of The Syndicate. She attacked me, and because I’m me her powers backfired. I don’t regret that.”

Villains who love to talk are more dangerous when they aren’t talking. The longer I can keep her engaged the longer I have a chance to get out of here before the machine starts doing whatever it’s going to do. Obviously it’s been built very specifically with me in mind. While the bonds holding my legs in place aren’t as intricate, they’re just as strong. I can’t move enough to bang a dent into the chair behind me and gain some leverage. The only way out seems . . . too obvious. She would never be in the same room not wrapped head to toe in that latex that blocks sparks if there wasn’t some reason it would be a bad idea. Still . . .

Doctor Lys pulls back and steps over to a small computer console. She taps on the screen several times with a serene smile. She isn’t affected by anything I’m saying. She doesn’t even seem to care. I thrash as hard as I can, screaming in agony as the metal plates around my arms press tighter.

When I melt back into the chair, defeated and probably bruised even through the metal, the plates pull back. It’s like being trapped in a pair of metal finger traps. I can’t raise up high enough to push up if that’s the ticket out, but I’m guessing the locking mechanism has something to do with those external rings. I’ve never pushed my metal to the limit. Bullets, even high caliber, haven’t done much more than knock me over. That said, even when I’m metal that still hurts. I couldn’t pull long enough for the bonds to break around me.

That makes me trapped with only a single desperate gambit. If my hand isn’t a royal flush then I’m stuck here unless Sylvie or someone else can break me out. I don’t like the way that feels.

“Send her in. It’s time to begin the first saturation phase. Their power cores are ready to accept the first treatment.” Doctor Lys pulls away from the console with a sigh. “You have a far more useful role than you realize. However, your innate powers provide such adequate resistance! Lucky for us, Quillspawn provided the perfect distraction.”

I can’t wait to see who or what her trump card is. “Good timing. Speaking of good timing, catch!” My eyes flash, something I can only notice slightly if I focus intensely, and a pair of bright sparks flies from my eyes right for the doctor.

At least, that’s what should happen.

“Fuuuuck!” Instead of the sparks, something powerful courses down along my arms, up my neck, and behind my eyes. It burns so cold, like holding dry ice, all the way from the tips of my fingers to my eyes. It’s brief, quick, and as soon as I stop trying to spark it stops. “You . . . What the . . . What the fuck . . .”

“You can thank The Domina Argenti in part for her brilliant research on the use of your power and its alternative uses. You can thank The Lady in part for her work with Silver Girl in perfecting the flow of your current. You can also thank Doctor Valerie Raine for helping make sure you won’t overheat.” Doctor Lys grins as she steps to the side and motions to the door.

Dressed in a crisp violet lab coat, mo-Valerie steps in as the door opens. She’s smiling in that warm way she always would whenever she would tell me I had to do my homework or go to bed. Something in her eyes looks wrong, somehow unfocused, or too focused. I can’t really tell. Mommy . . .

She steps close to me and my metal melts away. I’ve missed her so much. “Mom . . . You have to fight whatever she’s done to you. I know you’d never do anything to hurt me. I know you can fight her.”

Her smile turns sad, and she strokes a gloved hand over my cheek. “Shhh, relax Aurora. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to help you. After your mother disappeared, they came to keep me safe. They taught me so, so much. You really do look so much like her, especially if you let your hair grow out. It looks so beautiful all silvery.”

Tears well up in my eyes. I want to shut them tight and look away, but I haven’t seen her in so long and I don’t know the next time I’ll get a chance. Valerie . . . I spent so much time being angry she wasn’t my real mother, but she’s been my mother the whole time. She raised me, she helped make me who I am, and she always took such wonderful care of me. I don’t know how to say that out loud in a way that doesn’t sound stupid.

“Mommy, please, you need to help me get out of here. I’ve struggled as hard as I can, but I can’t get out that way. It’s all I can do. Please!” My voice cracks as I try to arch towards her, struggling and twisting in what I know is a futile effort. I can’t break free. She can’t either.

“I’m sorry you’re so scared. Let me help you.” Something sharp stabs into me, but it only hurts for the briefest of moments. Valerie is holding a syringe wrapped tightly in violet mist. It’s so hard to focus on the sharpness. The most relaxing feeling is spreading out from that point. “I was always the only one you trusted with needles. You need some very special medication, or this might hurt. Your power can make the future a brighter place. You need to spark as hard as you can.”

My eyes burn as tears stain my cheeks. It’s so hard to focus. I grind my teeth as hard as I can, trying to focus on the remembered biting pain of the needle. The spot already feels too good, and an anesthetic haze . . . hard to keep continuity . . . what?

Mommy looking into my eyes, her mist wrapping around me . . . wrapping through me . . . I feel so light and fuzzy, so pretty and . . .

“Spark sweetie . . . spark as hard as you can . . .”

“Yessss mommy . . .” My whole body pulses as I make it flow with as much silver as I can, as bright as I can. Something tingles, makes my body shake, like something pulling and tugging at my insides. My back arches, thighs clench, nipples stiffen, everything so tight and taut . . .

Can’t think past the strong tug, the fuzzy warmth wrapping around me, the . . . everything . . . just so good.

“Rest, sweetie . . . Rest . . .” I close my eyes, mewling, my current flowing all on its own.

“Awaken.” A woman’s voice tears me out of the formless aether that held me. The presence I felt riding inside of my thoughts is gone. My head is pounding, but at least it’s my head again. There was something important I was going to do. I’m pretty sure I failed, but I’d love to remember for sure what I failed. Right now I just feel confused.

The chair underneath me twists easily on its base, and I can tell it was made to be raised, lowered, wheeled around . . . and there’s a large mirror behind me. Am I in a dressing room?

My clothes are different. I still have the star cut-out over my cleavage, but I never had a mandarin collar before. The silver running down my arms and around my neck is a nice touch, too. I wouldn’t have thought it, but this shade of teal goes perfectly with the rest of my color scheme. My star is outlined in silver too, with a small band connecting it with the silver around my neck.

It’s a nice enough change while leaving my look the same. Short, black, tight, my skirt seems the same. My heels might wrap a little higher up my legs. I’m not sure. I should probably get a pair of boots if I’m going to keep using my alter-ego-cycle.

“Ahem?”

I spin around in the chair, and smack my forehead. “Perfect. Just perfect.” Hope, wrapped in white latex that holds her like a second skin, stands in front of me with a hand on her hip. If Aurora hadn’t told me, I would never have known her blond hair was a wig. Her mask makes me wonder how anyone who knew her couldn’t figure out who she was, but since I already know that’s sort of cheating.

“As wonderful a compliment as it would be, I’m going to assume you aren’t calling me perfect.” She’s amazingly nonchalant. She almost sounds bored. “I would have preferred to meet you on better terms. Doctor Lys is very particular. Everything needs to be done a certain way. I can respect it, but it is frustrating.”

Hope really does have a yummy body. If Aurora had to find a girlfriend to get mind controlled into loving, at least she’s pretty. She has long graceful legs and full pouty lips. If I remember right there was a blue dress that Aurora saw her in on TV and asked if I could get one like it. It doesn’t hurt to know that the force controlling those nice smooth curves is a brain smart enough to revolutionize the tech industry before turning thirty.

Through that revolutionary mind she created a helmet that suckled at my little sister’s will and made her a lovesick slave. I narrow my eyes, glaring into hers. They’re amazingly blue, a deep rich blue.

If she’d just had patience Aurora probably would have fallen for her anyway. Her uniform looks like something Mom would wear if she was trying to look like a secret agent. I wonder what Aurora would have to say about Nikki?

“Yeah, I can’t exactly pretend to be surprised that you aren’t jumping with joy. I did some bad things to your sister, and I know just how close the two of you are. It was wrong.” Her perfect lips curl slowly into a crooked smile. “I’m making up for it now. There’s so much good people like you and I can do for the world. With your power, your celebrity, mine, and my skills . . . we can change the world.”

“You might think that our family has a high propensity for mind control, and that my silver-haired mother being the poster child for evil mind control with good intentions makes me more likely to go along with your twisted little plan. It doesn’t.” There are no bonds anywhere around us. She doesn’t look particularly well defended.

Hope shrugs. “I didn’t think that. I thought if anything you’d be less likely to see the good in what we’re trying to do. I might be mind controlled. That doesn’t make me stupid.”

“Touche. Brainwashed and brain dead are a little different.” She says mind controlled so . . . boredly. She almost says it like it was a good thing. As much as I want to break her nose, I want to give her a hug. The poor thing doesn’t deserve to have her mind so horribly twisted. She deserves to have her nose broken and then clean up her act.

Maybe. Maybe she was always a bloodsucking manipulative bitch. The odds are in her favor that she has some redeeming quality somewhere even if she hasn’t tapped it in a very, very long time.

I try to stand up, but wince. My legs feel like dried cement. My toes won’t even curl.

“What did you do to me . . .? Why can’t I move?!” I try to throw a punch, but my fist stays unclenched and limp. I want to break her nose, not hang my arm limply at my side. She laughs, and for some reason the laughter echoes. “It’s not funny! I can’t move my arms, or my legs, or . . .”

“One funny thing about modern computer interfaces? If you give them quality this good, this beyond the consumer level? You sacrifice interaction without implants. I’ve been working on it of course . . . Your sister? She’s been helping. I’ve taken so many countless scans of her brain. Whole chunks of the operating system mirror reactions of her brain down to the smallest detail. I’ve memorized the way her brain lights up when she smiles or cringes or moans.” Slowly she moves closer to me. Her heels click loudly with each step. “You should see her brain when she’s cumming. It’s like a Christmas tree.”

Virtualization . . . it’s all fake. It doesn’t help me tear free, but it does make my heart rate quicken. I need to find some way out of this, quickly. Very quickly.

Getting out is hard when I can’t move. My powers aren’t here. I can’t dominate my way out of this. I can’t really do anything but fail to move. It doesn’t even feel like I’m struggling, which is even more infuriating. Thinking of moving doesn’t help either. This world might be one that only exists in my mind, but how I interact here is obviously not dependent on my mind alone.

My fingers curl into a fist, and then uncurl all on their own. “You’re helping too. If I can find whatever common ground exists in every mind . . . but making your fingers move is simple. I’ve been able to do that with everyone. I want more than that from you.”

I might not be able to feel myself moving, but I can feel her body move down against mine when she straddles me against the chair. She pushes me down against the chair by my shoulders, grasping them possessively. She’s in control of everything here, and that has to include how good her body feels. She’s just so warm and soft, and she smells like lavender and rose petals. It’s so intoxicating.

No amount of struggling has me moving an inch. If her operating system is based around Aurora’s mind . . . instead of struggling I try to arch in the shuddering way Aurora always did. It doesn’t work. Maybe if I could awaken the empathic shadow she left behind in the car . . .

“Sylvia . . . relax. You can’t move any more than you can force yourself to wake up. This isn’t a bad dream. This is reality, virtual though it may be.” Her nails claw down along my arms, making a shudder resonate down along my spine. “Doctor Lys wants us to be close. Together we could be a powerful symbol, a powerful romance. Symphonic Nebula doesn’t need our help, but you could accomplish so much more. World peace . . . civil unrest quelled . . . We can make a world where nobody needs super heroics. Everyone could be happy. The benefits outweigh the moral gray areas.”

“This is more than just a gray area!” Her nails rake again, harder, but my arms don’t bleed. It stings, sharp tingling pain usually does, but it also feels good. “Nnnnn! No way you got that from Aurora’s mind. I don’t think she has enough control of her metal to be a masochist!”

Stockholm Syndrome is not something you tell a captive to get. If they know that’s what you’re trying to do, it’s not supposed to be as easy for it to work. I can fight them. I can fight her. At least I can for now.

Counter Spell could appear, say a few words, point her staff, and I’d just obey. I shudder without shuddering. Lys is insane. I knew that the moment I saw inside of Screamer’s mind, but it bears repeating. I’m admittedly glad they didn’t shove me in the classroom.

“No, Aurora wasn’t a masochist. Amy, the girlfriend I had before her? She was. I didn’t get as deep a mapping of her mind, but I got enough.” Hope leans closer and melts her lips into mine. I try not to react or respond, but my lips move with a will of their own, kissing her back so passionately and carrying me along for the ride. Her nails tease the curves of my breasts, pulling a mewl out of me as my nipples stiffen. “She left. I wasn’t as good as I am now, and I didn’t have the courage to convince her to stay. She was a real sweetheart. I’ll make it up to her when I get a chance.”

“By making her part of this. That’s not a gift. That’s a sentence!” She has me trapped in my own mind. It’s a cage I can’t wriggle out of, no matter how hard I try. Yet the closeness of the bars, and the cramped conditions, make it impossible to give in. There’s no corner to hide in and pretend things are going to be okay. Hope shrugs, her lips trailing tenderly along my neck. I moan and whine as my body arches hard against hers. “You don’t seem to be very limited here . . .”

“I’m as limited here as Aurora would be without a customized simulation. Aurora’s brain scans are flowing by you in lines of code, as are Psiona’s, Flora’s, Amy’s . . . and mine.” Her teeth nibble and nip at the base of my neck. My thighs clench and turn more and more damp with each passing moment. My toes clench every time she touches me. I’m replaying someone’s sex life, reinterpreted by my own brain. It makes me feel like a voyeur in my own sensations. It shouldn’t feel like an added thrill. “Others, too, but I had to be careful who I put under the helmet after all. But the goal has always been control. I hid behind the illusion that I was trying to go for compatibility. But the more minds the software can grasp . . .”

My eyes widen. Kidnapping me? My fans can be mind controlled and abused through me, but they have to at least hear my song in passing or come to a concert to see someone else. Draupnir Inc is something no one can escape for long. Even just going to an ATM, or turning on a television, there’s a chance there’s some software there. Students using the more immersive experience for the internet, or for studying, they would never know.

Doctor Lys may be insane, but she is a genius. Combining the two of us, making us work together, we’d be unstoppable with the kind of backing she could give us. My music wouldn’t even need to be overt. Just get people going to concerts and the rest writes itself.

“No! I won’t be a part of that!” I reach deep down, as deep as I can, but my power isn’t there. I can’t physically fight it, and I can’t stop her from pulling my top up over my breasts. My nipples are so hard, and the firm twist she gives them makes them tighten more, and my screams louder. “Stop! Stop it . . . oh goddess fuck stop it!”

Hope slowly kisses down between my breasts, nipping at the inner curve as her fingers stroke and caress along the inside of my thighs. Each kiss pulses with something I can’t describe, like bright lights flashing in my vision, symbols I don’t recognize pulsing and twisting in front of me each time she twists my nipples a little harder. I close my eyes, but that just makes them easier to see, and my head feel so incredibly dizzy.

She laughs in my ear, and for some reason I moan. I don’t know why, but I can’t stop moaning. I can’t stop her when she reaches up under my skirt and slides her fingers along my slit. At the exact same time her fingers touch my sex I hear a distant melody, soft and delicate, but intricate, firm . . . I’ve never felt so wet before. Every movement of her fingers makes my thighs clench harder, and the melody grows louder.

It feels like I’ve tasted these feelings a million times before. My pussy clenches with anticipation for the way her fingers have always slid inside of me. Rebeca, Hope, has never touched me before, but I . . . I remember . . . my pussy remembers . . .!

This is so much worse than an empathic echo. Everything she’s forcing inside of me, every flash, every stroke, every note of that song, are all borrowed from someone’s mind. They’re all laced with muscle memory that isn’t mine, but my mind is good at filling in the blanks or . . . or she’s touched me so many times before, over and over again until I came screaming with my toes curled tight enough to break a mic stand in half.

Where I end and the fake memories begin is harder and . . . flash . . . a pretty little solo played out in those notes and . . . clenching and screaming so loud . . . screaming so loud my lungs burn . . . my throat aches . . . clenching tighter, hips moving faster to match her rhythm . . .

I can remember the way it felt the first time she . . . she whispers something, but she’s too quiet and the music is too loud. It’s our song, the first song we fucked to . . . I never learned the name, it’s instrumental, and it makes my nipples harder like a flash of bright white-hot light blinding me and making my fingers curl into fists. I can smell my own lust filling the air, staining the moment with pleasure and need.

No one makes me feel like this, just Hope, taking me, fucking me, raping me with light and sound . . . lips suckling at my ear, at my neck, fingers moving harder, deeper, her latex-clad breasts rubbing against me . . .

No one fucks like Hope, no one could ever . . . so hard to remember this isn’t real, it feels real, it feels more than . . .

“Override: Orgasmic nebula.” Rebeca’s voice pierces through the sound and the flashes, and my world melts into hot wet bliss.