The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Aurora obediently stared at the front of the class with hooded eyes. Her back was faintly arched. Even wrapped in the same tight, minimal school uniform as the other girls that filled the room Aurora felt exposed.

The teacher was dressed chastely, and it set her on another level from the young heroine. Aurora was a student. Students had open minds waiting for their teachers’ instruction. They obeyed their teachers. She didn’t remember ever being told that, but somehow she knew it more than she had words to explain.

With nothing in front of her gaze to stimulate her Aurora soon found herself staring at a pen that rested loosely in her grasp. Her brown eyes stared at its simple white base with no memory of how it got there. She was lost infinitely deep within the small bowl that formed the bottom of the pen. It shined, white, clean, and dry. It was pristine. It somehow felt untouched. It felt like it had always been there.

Her eyes unfocused. Her mouth fell open slowly, leaving her jaw slack.

You’re resisting the treatments without even needing to try. We anticipated this. Your body is a powerful asset, Aurora. Your body however, includes your eyes, and your ears. They are powerful assets to us.

“Now class . . . eyes up.” Aurora felt the collective will of every school girl in the room pulled taut as their eyes rose as one set. She was just a drop in the same ocean of obedience she was drowning in. “Welcome to your first day of class. I will be your Teacher. I will help teach you all about your role in the days ahead, and help prepare you for the rest of your lives. You’ve all begun our special treatments, and this will help keep your mind open, but the most important lessons are still to come.”

A very quiet and somehow vaguely familiar song played in the background. It was only barely loud enough for Aurora to hear. She couldn’t remember where she’d heard it before but it was easier to feel how it drew her attention back to her teacher rather than to thinking. It was easier to feel how it weighed her body and mind down more than her metal ever had.

Aurora’s thighs pressed together, and she smiled an unintelligent smile. The usual blazing light in her eyes was hidden away. The light that reflected from the tile at her feet made her thighs glisten.

“The first lesson you will learn, is to listen. You must always listen. A majority of what you will learn, and how you will be instructed, will be verbal. Open ears make an open mind. Repeat, class.” Aurora loved the sound of her teacher’s voice. She loved obeying her even more.

She sat up straighter even as a deep part of her slouched lower. “Open ears . . . make an open mind . . .” Aurora’s voice rang out in unison with the other school girls’. She didn’t even know their names, or any of their faces, but the thought of looking away or asking any questions felt so foreign.

“Perfect. You’ve all been chosen to be a part of this particular class because of your special talents. Don’t bother trying to remember them now. This class is not about using them. It’s about being used. This class is about obedience. It will be your favorite class.” The teacher’s lips curled into a naughty grin. Four rows of girls stared at her with open mouths, adoring eyes, and none of their own control.

Aurora was far from being an exception to the rule. She hung on every word the teacher said, her eyes showing no cognizance. The lack of any thought behind her eyes hinted at how deeply she took the lesson.

“Now, just watch the whiteboard class. Teacher is going to go get a drink, but the cameras will be watching you. Show them what a good girl you can be, each and every one of you . . .” True to her word, the teacher ducked out of the class. Aurora could barely tell. The whiteboard began to twist with psychedelic swirls of color. Brown eyes watched as commands, thoughts, and desires were imprinted in Aurora’s brain.

No sound interrupted the sensual music that flowed from everywhere at once.

Hours passed, days, years, all in the space of a minute. Memories droned through them, an identical set of memories, that each mind would tailor in just the right way. Aurora’s memories found themselves competing against a more sinister, compelling set. The changes ranged from her mothers teaching her how important the lessons were that Sarah had learned from Chronos, Mind Bore, and so many other villains. Her most memories of Sylvia twisted from detailing an incestuous love affair, to an older sister claiming the younger.

She was being remade, and no one was even putting forth the effort to watch it in person.

A woman in the back row twitched and shuddered. Her hair was loose, flowing like mist over her shoulders and half over her eyes. The strands were every color of the rainbow, from red at the left to violet at the right. Her eyes were black with white pupils. The swirling colors on the whiteboard swirled in her eyes, but her eyes twitched as the other girls’ slackened.

With a horrified scream the woman tore herself to her feet and threw her desk to the ground. “No! No, that didn’t happen! I won’t let that happen! That’s not what made me who I am!”

Aurora’s mind dimly registered the pain in the woman’s voice. It shook her just loose enough from the magnetic pull of the board to draw her gaze back. “Should . . . Help her . . . I should help . . .” Her voice was confused and barely loud enough to be heard over the music. The accompanying thoughts were so quiet they could have been figments of her imagination.

Rainbow hair bounced as the woman ran for the door and desperately struggled with the handle. It was unlocked, but being the woman in the room most capable of any form of self-motivated thought didn’t say much. When the door opened, hands grabbed her arm and pulled her through. Aurora could just barely see the needle go into the woman’s arm before she was pulled out of sight.

Laughter was easily heard in the hallway and the cruel edge to it made Aurora shudder. Her eyes blinked, gaining just a hint of their former sharpness as she heard the laughter turn to voices. “I keep telling them the older ones need higher doses of the treatment . . . a trip to Miss Cotton should fix her right up . . .”

Aurora started to rise to her feet when the door clicked shut. Why she was standing became harder to remember. A moment ago she’d been wondering who Miss Cotton was, but the thought grew softer. Cotton was soft. She was soft. She was pliant. She was obedient. Her knees gave out and she fell back into her chair. By the time her eyes reached the board, her memories didn’t include the door opening.

Sylvia impatiently stared out the window. She needed to get home and fast. There were no layovers, no delays, just a nonstop flight to Midas City and that was hardly fast enough.

“You need to relax, Sylvia. Worrying isn’t going to get you there any faster. We’ll be there soon. I don’t see why you couldn’t have just called some friends of your parents to find out what happened.” Pamela sat beside the singer and gazed out the window with her. “In addition to getting a flight booked for tomorrow. I’m not insensitive, just pragmatic. You might be a super heroine, but you’re new to it. Doesn’t she have any friends local to Midas that might be able to help?”

“This is my family we’re talking about. If something happened in Midas I don’t know who I can trust.” Sylvia sighed as she watched the clouds flow underneath the plane like a sea of whipped cream.

The news was worrying enough. Something happened to Sarah. Details were being withheld from the media, and that was never a good thing. Only that and Sylvia would still be petrified, but then Valerie wasn’t answering her phone. That made it a thousand times worse. Sarah did everything she could to stop her work from affecting her family. Something making Valerie not answer her phone meant so many bad things.

Sarah had enemies. Sylvia had enemies too, and she knew Aurora had a few. Valerie was an open target. She had powers, but she was a doctor first and out of practice. Sylvia wasn’t even sure if her mother still had her staff.

Pamela sighed and kissed Sylvia’s cheek before resting her head on the songbird’s shoulder. She slid her fingers along Sylvia’s arm, and a shudder went through the younger woman’s body, her eyes unfocusing slightly as her nipples hardened. Pamela’s attentions always made things feel better. There was still a powerful current of worry and distress, but it was just a little less important.

The reporter arched her curves against Sylvia as much as the airplane seats would allow. Touch always made it easier to forget about her troubles and focus on feeling good. It made her voice sound special, too. “Why don’t you just lean back and let me make things a little nicer. I can’t make what’s happening go away, but . . . I can make it matter a whole lot less. It’s always better to focus on the good things in life. You’re on your way to fix the other things, but there’s nothing we can do for now. Plane travel takes time. So . . . Relax?”

“Mmmm . . . k . . .” Sylvia sighed and let her eyes flutter closed as she melted both into the seat and into Pamela. “You’re so good to me. . .”

Something in the reporter’s eyes twitched. Her lips curled into a frown before Pamela even noticed. Guilt? I’m feeling guilty? Sylvia’s getting just as much out of this, even if now and then she doesn’t remember a thing or two. I’m not hurting her. I don’t even care she’s attracted to her own sister more than me.

Pamela tried to find some way to respond. Sylvia was so vulnerable. One mother might be dead, the other wouldn’t answer her phone, and she’d only caught the recap on the news. Pamela could only imagine how it made Sylvia feel.

“I try, Sylvie, I try . . . Most of the time I do all right. All that matters right now, is you getting some rest. Melt into your seat, keep your eyes closed, and forget you have any worries or woes. Just let Pamela work her magic, and you’ll be feeling better before you know it.” Long fingertips slid through Sylvia’s hair, teasing out shuddering mewls. “There we go. Feels better already, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah . . . Always feel better with you around . . . seeing anybody?” Sylvia twisted her lips into a silly grin before letting it melt back into a peaceful smile.

Sylvia’s honesty was disarming. Pamela was convinced it had something to do with the way she had experience with a consensual mind controller. She was forthcoming as though Pamela were a lover. Usually that takes . . . effort? She misses what she had before. That’s the only explanation. She wants what she had before with Aurora. Nikki is filling in half. Taking the other half is fine by me.

“Probably . . . Probably. Just relax, Sylvie. No need for words.” Sylvia’s world melted further away as Pamela caressed along her cheek, and then along her neck. Numbers flowed from Pamela’s lips into Sylvia’s ears. They seemed meaningless, pointless, but they were building upon layers and layers of numbers before them.

Just like she’d promised when they’d first met, none of it would be remembered. Pamela’s grin grew and grew the more Sylvia’s lips faintly twitched with the series of precise numbers. Her looks and touch alone could have easily gotten her through life without a second thought, but Pamela was smarter than that. She also learned at a very young age to keep smart people very close.

Sylvia’s nipples poked against her top as they hardened more by the moment. Her panties dampened. White searing bliss shuddered quietly through her essence leaving its mark in subtle ways.

Pamela’s eyes hooded more by the moment. Her tongue slid out to sensuously wet her lips. She could taste a story in the air. Whatever awaited them in Midas she knew it wouldn’t disappoint. Sylvia was a front row ticket.

Beside her, the ticket moaned and shuddered as numbers invaded deeper into her mind.

Yana N. Ritter stood on a balcony overlooking Midas City. It had been too long since she’d visited, at least three years on either Aurora or Sylvia’s sixteenth birthday. She couldn’t remember which. Her blonde hair fluttered in the breeze. Her eyes narrowed as though finding something distasteful down below.

Aniela Ritter knelt at her feet. Yana wore black clothing that clutched tight at every curve, otherwise loose and flowing otherwise in a sensual but regal way. The kneeling woman wore only a bikini. It wasn’t a warm night, but the wispy aura of shadow that surrounded her kept her warm while leaving her almost completely bare for Yana to admire. Her eyes were unfocused, following the shadow as it flickered not unlike translucent black flames. Her eyes did not lack intelligence. Instead they lacked focus as though she were too relaxed to care about anything.

It was late, but Midas was alive. The city slept and dreamed. In the shadows all sorts of heroines and villains vied for victories that few were likely to hear about. Some of the more inventive were busy scheming. Even in a city renowned for its tales of heroics, there were just as many tales of villains. There were even quieter stories whispered of successful villains that quit while they were ahead.

Some whispered stories were told of heroines kept as trophies.

Pale fingers with black nails grasped the balcony until knuckles turned a brighter shade of white. Their tightness manifested every frustration the woman had experienced for twenty years. Black ink flowed beneath her pale skin, subdued only by Yana’s intense focus.

Her nails were black because of a lapse in that focus.

“Soon, Aniela . . . She’s finally out of my way. I know the two of you had such fond memories, and I would never take them away . . . but I was so sick of being hidden in the brilliance of her shadow.” Yana reluctantly released the balcony and stretched down a hand to slide her nails through her lover’s hair. “It’s a shame Yanuka had to ruin that book, but there are other ways to accomplish that same goal. You’ll help, won’t you love?”

“Yesss . . . Mmm and it’s okay, really . . . I love you, Yana. I love what you do to me. They will too.” Aniela’s eyes focused as she slowly rose to her feet and wrapped her arms around her lover. “Will it really be as satisfying without her in the way? You’re such a romantic, not having a real opponent will cheapen it for you.”

Slowly Yana shook her head and wrapped an arm around Aniela. Her gaze never turned from Midas below. “I’ve had time to grow up and see that victory is victory. I’ll have plenty of resistance yet. Even if Sarah was holding me back, her daughters will be interesting to confront. You said Sylvia was on her way, yes? Aurora will come in time. I can feel it. This won’t be as simple as it seems. If it were, there wouldn’t be a point to it.”

Ink dripped from Yana’s fingertips and slid along the curve of Aniela’s thigh. She hissed in a sharp breath as she felt the ink move back up once it reached her knee and slide through the fabric between her legs. “Whatever you desire, my love, my owner.”

Yana’s pupils grew wet, shifting with the power that flowed inside of her as its slickness teased her lover’s most sensitive places. Slick and warm, it flowed like lust itself over Aniela’s clit. Aniela grasped Yana tighter as her knees shook and threatened to buckle.

She screamed as she felt the familiar sensation of the ink sliding through her body and into her mind. Years of being a canvas, a novel in progress, had made her familiar with the sensation of having her thoughts crossed out and rewritten, but it had lost none of the thrill. All doubt in her lover’s words was scribbled out, devotion written in its place. Years of programming and training had left her mind wide open to Yana’s every desire.

“Good girl. Such little needs playing with, but why let that stop us? Soon I think I’ll lose the blonde, but until then, I need something to make holding it back easier. Scream for your captor, my helpless heroine.” Yana laughed as her black lips closed over Aniela’s neck. The pale flesh arched, and the dark lips quickly began to suck.

“Mmm love being your helpless heroine. You treat me so well. Mmm so glad we couldn’t stop Quillspawn.” Aniela moaned as she trembled, her eyes rolling back into her head as their lids fluttered. “So helpless to you . . . Don’t want anything else.”

Yana grinned as she made the ink inside of Aniela drip hotly over such sensitive portions of her mind. “And soon that opinion will be one much more widely shared . . .”