The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It’s our second gig, but things are a lot different this time. I’m still wearing the same outfit (uniform?) and I still feel as sexy and anxious even though this time I’m not really here. My chest rises and falls to breathe, but when I try to double up a breath, slow down, speed up . . . nothing happens. I don’t have the ability to act, only to obey.

Before, I was worried that it would be somehow debilitating to not be in control of my actions, but now that I’m experiencing it I can feel how little of a difference there is compared to my usual situation. This is how I should have always felt. It was always the reality.

Nothing in my life was ever nearly as powerful or honest as this. I breathe because Mistress desires me to breathe. I’m only dressed because Mistress wants me dressed. If She wanted I would just as quickly tear my top open and dance out on the stage in a drunken reverie. It wouldn’t really be my choice, and I can’t say that I mind either the thought of how helpless I am, or the thought of being used more.

It’s been blissful torture having my place reaffirmed. I’ve forgotten what silence sounds like. Even now, waiting backstage, I’m wearing headphones pumping Mistress’s addictive music deep into my mind. There’s no chance of resistance when every moment more of that song is pulsing through my sense of self.

Hidden in the song are fragments of her voice, small little flecks of her presence, and a constant knowledge of how powerless I am. I’ve had the song playing in my sleep, when I shower, always, unless Mistress wants me to respond to a command. Then the earbuds are yanked free, and I obey.

Sometimes when the buds are yanked free I can’t even remember my own name. If Mistress does this to me long enough I don’t think I’ll really have a name anymore except for her own convenience.

Nikki keeps teasing my nipple only enough to make me whimper and squirm. It’s sore, hard and almost freakishly sensitive to the touch, but it feels amazing to be unable to ask her to stop. Tasha keeps teasing a hand along my thigh. Mistress put them in charge of making sure I’m well used. I’ve been on the edge for hours. They keep teasing me until they feel satisfied and then stop. It’s what Mistress wants, so I don’t care if they never satisfy me. I just hope my body can hold out for Mistress’s sake.

My sake is a moot point.

My thighs are so exhausted from clenching around the toy my panties are holding deep inside of me. Small, silver, and prone to vibrating along with the song, I’ve been commanded to hide all signs that I’m wearing it for the whole concert. It’s not easy, but my obedience isn’t supposed to make life easier for me. It’s supposed to make life easier for Her.

One of my buds is yanked free. Silence invades my mind, and I shudder into the sensation. I take a breath and wait, paused, ready, open to whatever will come next. It feels like my mind is holding its breath right along with me.

Heather’s voice fills the void, making me moan as she speaks. I moan softly enough not to miss a sound from her lips. “It’s time to go out on stage, little nebula slut.” That word, slut, I don’t know how anyone could find such a hot, sizzling word offensive. It’s so hot. It’s what I am. It’s who I am.

I nod, and pull the other earbud out before wrapping both around the small mp3 player before holding it out to Nikki. Her tight leather pants, and her physical ability to hold me down, led Mistress to assign her the task of holding onto it. It’s funny now to think of how free-willed Nikki was. She even managed to subvert Mistress’s programming to make it easier to fight against. Just changing pleasure to pain made all of that lovely association possible to find undesirable, and it still wasn’t enough to truly fight back. It was barely enough to try.

I tried, and now when my body rises, it’s not really me.

My lips twist into a familiar grin as I lead the way out to the stage. My band follows close behind, their every glance reinforcing my obedience and inability to struggle. Every movement my body takes on its own, the more Mistress’s autopilot grows stronger. Once it learns how to fully control me I don’t know if I’ll ever move on my own again.

Out on stage I approach the microphone and slowly wrap my fingers both around it and the stand itself. Just before my lips are about to move, my hearing mutes. I can’t hear anything. Breathing, ambient sounds, silence, all of it just disappears. I can feel my lips move, the air in my throat, and I know that I’m speaking, but the words are outside of my range.

Not only will I be unable to act during the show, but like this I won’t even know how I sound. How my mind can be singing, moving my body, and perfectly adjusting the pitch without me hearing my own voice . . . I don’t know.

I only know that I will always obey. That’s what matters.

Somehow I’ve gone from the stage to Mistress’s home. I know I have an apartment somewhere that I’ve been seen entering and exiting, but I don’t even know where it is. I never sleep there. It’s just for appearances, and another way for there to be proof that Mistress is paying me.

“Welcome home, my slutty little nebula.” Mistress is looking down at me from up in her chair, and I’m kneeling. It feels so perfect. It feels so . . . right. “You performed wonderfully, again . . . not that I had any doubts. With your mind properly pinned into place, you’re so very effective at obeying my every command. I could hardly believe I was able to mute your conscious hearing and still have you perform so . . . well.”

A part of me is tempted to respond, but she hasn’t asked for a response and nothing that she said requires one. If Mistress wanted me to respond, she would have programmed it into me. Instead I kneel: naked, legs spread, and back arched.

Her lips curl into a very satisfied grin as she makes me moan by reaching out her bare foot to stroke along the inside of my leg. “I think this was just the trick. Break apart the girl Sylvia was, and mold you into the nebula you are for me, and there’s none of that annoying free will. I don’t have to worry that my techniques are outdated. You know, I must admit part of why I pushed my luck with you is your family’s history. I felt the desire to test myself, and who better to test myself against than the daughter of the woman who took down Jesse Colloten? I had to know if I was up to the task.”

I don’t respond beyond the moans she pulls from my throat by teasing the tip of her toe against my inner thigh. Each slight little curve makes my whole body shake. I don’t feel the overwhelming need to cum I felt before the show, so something must have satisfied me, yet I don’t remember it or the satisfaction itself.

Rewarding a slave that needs to learn the meaning of obedience is hardly what I would imagine Mistress would see worth her time, but it’s not my place to make that decision. I merely revel in it.

“She did a lot for us, her successors. Oh, there are more things in place to protect against a company built on mind control now than there were when Chronos was busted . . . but her failure wrote the book on what not to do for a lot of us. She got comfortable. She played favorites. She let her slaves keep some form of cognizance. You will serve as a reminder of the right way.” Mistress’s toe presses against my wet slit. I scream louder the longer she keeps it in place and just shifts it side to side.

I never really cared about Chronos besides the details of Sarah’s day-to-day life. The rest never really mattered to me. The Argentum Array only even matters to me in that it’s the only proof I have that my mother really existed. I’m sure both greatly affected the way mind-controllers do business.

My mind feels active, not in control, but active. Overactive.

The song is there, but the song is always there. It’s just not all-consuming enough that I can’t feel the gears moving in my own mind. Mistress talking to me makes a part of me want to respond meaningfully, but I push it into the song.

“I hadn’t thought about her much though, on a conscious level, before I nabbed you. Then I had to start thinking . . . what do I do to stop Silver Girl from dodging the bullet? It’s been tempting to have her killed in her sleep, but that would draw attention, take away a good publicity angle, and if it were traced back to me . . .” She pauses her speech only to resume rubbing her toe against me harder and quicker. “Capes don’t really need extradition treaties, and I like my face the way it is.”

It doesn’t even bother me that she just hinted she wouldn’t mind killing my mother. Instead, a part of me clenches. It should bother me. It should bother me a lot. Instead, I just feel more helpless to act, or think. It feels so good, as horrible as I can remember it should feel.

Her toe pulls back, and I whimper pleadingly.

“No, that’s quite enough. I’m only really talking to you now because I wanted to let you know you’re going to be very, very busy touring. I’ve managed to get you some radio play on a lot of local stations – and a station in Midas. You’ll be touring daily now while we stamp enough CDs to fill every player in America.” Mistress stands, ruffling my hair as she walks past me. I stay staring forward. “I won’t be touring with you, and it’ll be a month or more before you’re back. I have other business ventures to give my attention to.

“Therefore, Nikki will be in charge of keeping you in line. I’m confident she’s right for the job. First thing tomorrow morning you’re going to be calling up your mothers, and telling them you’re on tour. Don’t worry. We’ll program conversation tangents into you before this happens. We have time. Then, you’ll hit the bus.”

Mistress grabs a chunk of my hair. I do my best to stay limp. It’s hard not to stiffen, but Mistress’s pleased reaction seems to agree that I did a decent job. When she pulls my hair, I scream, and then her hand pushes the back of my head so hard I feel myself fall forward. I’m so dizzy. I don’t know how much I’ve slept. I don’t know how much I’ve eaten. All I know is that above all else, I obey.

“When I’m done having you tour, I think it’ll be about time to get rid of the last of you. We’ll launch the CDs. We’ll take a month just to enjoy watching the sales, and then you’ll be off overseas. And where will Sylvia be?” She pauses, and I can feel her staring at me. I can feel her watching. Listening. Waiting.

“Gone.”

Mistress laughs and pushes down on my head until I collapse into the carpet. My body burns and tingles, but I don’t struggle or squirm an inch more than my body does on its own. I can’t stop the slight little twitches and muscle spasms. I’m sure if Mistress wanted me to, she’d have me changed even more. I don’t see her caring enough to do that, but if she wanted to, it would happen. I’d lose even involuntary motion.

I’d be like that blond in the joke about the headphones telling her to breathe in and out.

“Her remains will be scattered like ashes all through the world as you let them hear your lovely voice singing my songs. Singing my words. Being my conduit. Goddess it’s so delicious to own a woman so completely. My perfect little nebula slave, helpless to obey my every whim.” Mistress strokes along the curves of my ass. I can feel her leering.

All I do is breathe, and focus on the sensation of her hand. There is nothing else. Nebulous, indistinct, floating, wispy: that’s all my consciousness is.

“Now it’s time to teach you what you’ve been just dying to talk to your parents about.” Headphones, big and bulky, slide over my ears before she swats firmly between my legs. I can feel the button click down, and then I can hear her voice as mine fades, replaced by Her truth.

“Sylvia! I’ve been worried sick about you!” Valerie’s voice. She’s concerned. I’m smiling brightly, balancing the phone on my shoulder as I get dressed. “Your sister even called sooner, and you’re supposed to be the responsible one.”

Her tone is playful. I would act offended by how she brought up Aurora, but I’m not supposed to care, so I don’t. I am the responsible one. I’m the one doing something with my life. “Sorry Mom, we’ve – the band has – been way too busy. I have barely had a moment for myself, and I’ve loved it! I’ve done two shows . . . we’ve laid some tracks down . . . It’s amazing! We’re even going to be on 94.7 out in Midas!”

I am excited, but it feels so strange to have my voice flow so . . . detachedly. Those are words I’d say. Mistress didn’t make my words unbelievable. I’ve just never been a mouthpiece before.

It’s going to ruin my panties if I’m not careful.

“That’s great! I’ll listen whenever I can. If you come to Midas, see if you can’t get Sarah and I a pair? We’ll pay, but it’d be nice to get mother-of-the-star treatment.” She’s so proud of me, and it feels . . . negligible. She’s just not that important anymore.

“I’ll see what I can do. Right now we’ll just be hitting local venues for awhile, then we’re . . . I’m not sure where I’m going to be in a week to be honest, but I’m hearing whispers of a fun little international tour planned if our stateside shows go well. CDs’ll be ready to roll too.” I don’t tell her it’s all guaranteed. She probably wouldn’t like the sound of that.

If she even remembered half of what she knows, I imagine she wouldn’t be very happy, and then Mistress would need to do something about her. I wonder if she’d really shoot Sarah. I wonder if she’d miss.

Mistress told me to sound excited but focus on brevity. I know Valerie could keep me on the phone for hours. “The band is kinda waiting on me though. My apartment is great. Food is great. I’ve been seeing a lot of the city, and I love it. It’s a lot like Midas in some ways, a lot different in some ways. Is Sarah around?”

“No, she’s onto something big. Apparently some crime syndicate is trying to move into Midas’s area, and might be trying to start the auctions back up – and you know how much Sarah hates those. Anything you want me to tell her?”

The first thing that comes to mind should not be a playfully phrased, “Duck?”

“Just tell her I love her. I love you too! As soon as the CD gets off the presses, I’ll send one back to you and Sarah. Love you lots Mom, I gotta go or I’ll be late!” I leisurely lace up my heels, wigging my toes to savor the last few moments before I’ll be cut off again from any hints of the old Sylvia.

“Love you too, Sylvia! Take care of my precious little nebby.” I hang up, and almost instantly fall to my knees. Somehow I manage to finish lacing my shoes first.

Inside my head, the song is raging, grinning a wicked grin. It’s back in complete control. There are no illusions. It’s only too bad that I can’t slip some of it into Valerie so she could share in this penultimate bliss of surrender. Taking her for the song was beyond delicious. Maybe some day I’ll get to again.

The song pulls me up, and drags me out toward obedience.