The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It’s so amazing being backstage. Not only am I backstage, but I’m backstage waiting for my own chance to wrap my fingers around a microphone in front of countless others – where none of them are my parents or there to see their kids.

Mistress managed to score us a gig in a club that won’t let me in as a guest without a fake ID. Outside I can hear cheers over the opening act. We don’t have star billing, but at least we’re not the twenty minute set openers. If we’re good enough, no one will even remember the band playing now. They’ll disappear into the fog of time, and we’ll be famous.

Nikki smiles blankly beside me, her eyes glazed and her nipples erect. The former, is thanks to her obedience. The latter, is because of the occasional misted tugs I’ve been giving them. Even her strong resilient mind couldn’t resist my power for very long, and reminding us both of that fact with each tug has been fun and distracting.

There isn’t an ounce of collective free will in any of their heads, and I love it. I love knowing how helpless they are because I helped twist their minds. I love knowing in Mistress’s eyes, I’m the star.

None of us speak, but we don’t have to. We’ve all been craving this moment for so long, or we wouldn’t be here. We would never have fallen into mistress’s web, or she would have cast us asunder for a lack of dedication.

After tonight, nothing will ever be the same. We’ve played together already, recorded a CD that’ll be released if we can have some successful shows, but this will bind us in a whole new way. Publicly. Everything has been private up to now, but this is as public as music gets. We’ll all be bound together more with each note.

We’ll be bound together even tighter than my breasts in the outfit Mistress chose for me. It’s not much, but it doesn’t need to be. The top is white and stops only a few inches above my navel. Its tight enough to show off curves I didn’t even know I had, and make the star cut out show plenty of cleavage. Over my legs, or at lest draped over my upper thighs, is a a tight black shirt that is just long enough to be decent while still being slutty. My feet are sealed in high heels that lace all the way up to my knees.

My favorite touch of all is the silver star hanging from my belly button. Glittering silently inside of the star is a bright, beautiful amethyst. Mistress gave it to me as a reminder of my obedience and the pleasure I’ve given her. It was a little painful, but it was worth it to be decorated by my owner.

I feel so sexy, and that always makes me mist just a little.

My band, my owner, my surrender to Mistress being redoubled . . .

The moment of truth comes closer as each ordinary moment passes. It’s impossible to have patience with my heart fluttering so fast and my clit throbbing so loudly. I need this more than I’ve ever needed anything in my life. It will validate both my dreams, and Mistress’s faith in me, and I don’t want to let either of us down.

Finally the band on stage finishes their set, and the singer delivers his final message to the crowd. I can almost hear Mistress’s song playing lightly in the background of my thoughts.

As hot as my auto pilot feature is, I want to do this myself with as much of myself in control as Mistress allows. They’re all still her songs, and we are all her instruments, but I can still be more present than a mere husk.

“You’re up.” Their guitarist jerks a thumb out at the stage, and I nod. My lips curl into a grin without a thought. It’s time.

“Let’s go, girls.” I stand, and they follow after in perfect unison. It makes me shudder, but just enough to feel. My band, bound in obedience to their leader . . . me.

I lead the way, thighs quivering under the short skirt.

The crowd is already cheering, still pumped from the last band (who weren’t all that bad if not yet another band with that familiar generic pop metal sound), but they get even louder as we step into view. I stroll up to the mic stand and curl my fingers sensually around the handle before lifting it up slowly to my lips. No more delays. No more silent guilt that I’m not a heroine or a doctor. Not after tonight.

With my empty hand I wiggle my fingers out to the crowd as I take a few steps closer to the edge of the stage. “My name is Sylvia, and we’re Symphonic Nebula. We’ve been waiting a long time for this, so I hope you’re all ready!”

Looking back I give Nikki her cue in a soft nod. Her eyes almost seem to shine as she glides her fingers delicately along her guitar’s strings. Leigh follows suit, squirming into place as she starts the drum line. My foot taps along with her as I pull my fingers up to my lips, and blow a kiss to my adoring audience. Mist stretches out from my lips as I do, filling the air above just enough to be brightly visible as it slowly spreads and melts out into the air.

Silvery streams of light wrapped in violet fog melt down gently over the audience, barely enough to feel, but enough to pull their attention.

I slowly lift the mic back up to my lips, and Heather’s bass joins in. My eyes melt nearly shut as I speak in a slow, breathy voice. “This is a little song we like to call ‘Sweat’.”

Tasha’s keyboard joins the rising action just as my voice fads from the speakers, and I slowly step back to the mike stand, and grasp it once I’ve taken my vigil behind it. The song quickly turns harder, faster, beat thumping through me as I arch and dance with it. I can feel the song welling up inside of me, begging to burst free more and more as my cue gets closer.

Each eye I feel on my body, anticipating, begging to be wowed, makes me even more lost to the song. Its sweet melody is already starting to make my body glisten. My eyes are probably swirling with mist and glistening with points of silver light.

“Pumping faster, running harder, glistening, shimmering, my swear is drowning me . . .” hold the note, mic so close, and I clutch it like an anchor. It’s the only thing keeping me in this reality.

It almost feels like if I let go I’d melt away and become nothing but the heat and raw energy coursing through me.

More lyrics swim through me, passing from my lips through the air into the depths of the microphone and then out through the speakers. I feel the sparkling mist inside of me flowing so raw, the weight of the microphone feeling so heavy in my hand. I can feel a single bead of sweat slowly slide down my spine, making me feel so . . . alive.

I obey the voice that drives me, and sing until my throat burns, and then I sing some more.

By the time we’re walking backstage, I feel drenched. It would be a boring lie to claim that its only with sweat. They just kept cheering, and I swear it was like the crowd had a fingertip to my clit that shook more with each word I sung. That might seem a little extreme, but its the only way to capture how extremely sizzling it felt.

I feel alive in ways I’ve never felt before. It almost feels like I’ve never felt my heart beat before now. Before it was a quiet drum beat, now its practically beating out of my chest. My skin is tingling.

Every thought ends in an exclamation mark. I just feel . . . more. That’s the only real way to describe it. Its not different – the world around me anyway. It hasn’t changed. I have. The world feels like it has a time signature now in a way I never sensed it before. Little aftershocks of the pleasure make a part of a drum line or of a guitar solo echo in my soul. I can still taste lyrics on my lips, sticky and warm like freshly warmed syrup.

Around me, my mist hovers like an aura of glittering purple. I might just be the singer for Symphonic Nebula, but at the same time I am the nebula. Nebula.

It never felt so fitting before, but I feel so full of stars, so glittering, so hot, so . . . powerful. Unleashed. That’s the only word that can sum it up. Aurora always had such a richness to her, such a forcefulness, and she let it all out on me that night in her car, and now the audience has awakened it in me.

Euphoria, pure erotic euphoria . . .

“Whoa, your eyes do that trick all the time?” I forgot that there was an act on after us. Their singer is the one who spoke to me, and it takes me a second or two to realize how brightly my eyes are glowing. Sarah never noticed when hers did it, but no one ever asked me about mine.

I let my lips twist into a grin and shake my head, fingers reaching up to slide through my hair before I shake it out. “No. Not all the time. But I think they will be a lot more now. You have a good set.”

He probably thinks I’m grinning at him, or at least thats what his grin screams. Let him think that. I don’t particularly mind. He’s not my type – being male and all – but he helped me notice something special. I’m supercharged, galvanized, reborn . . .

“That was so . . . So amazing, wasn’t it?” Nikki’s voice is full of lushly audible arousal. “I could feel each chord like it was twining around me.” I turn around and nod, gazing into her eyes with the most satisfied expression I can manage. “You felt it too . . . Different, but I can tell. That feels so nice to know. You look really sexy glowing like that. It makes your skin glisten.”

There’s almost a drunken edge to her voice, but not enough to make her slur. Its only enough to make her sound as glazed as her eyes look.

“I felt it all right. I felt it so deep. You really are a wicked guitarist.” I pull her close, hands grabbing her tighter than I’ve ever grabbed anyone, and I kiss her fiercely. Her body trembles at the suddenness, and I can feel her strong body yield after half a moment’s worth of tensing. She has such a firm body. I rub mine against hers to feel it more. I keep my eyes open to watch hers hood from their initial wide shock.

Power trip? No. I feel like I’ve been reconstituted as pure energy. That’s a big difference.

When the kiss breaks, it breaks because I pull back. I don’t let her go. Instead I lean a little closer and whisper right into her ear. “And you’re my guitarist. That’s whats really important.”

She just stares for an eternity before slowly nodding and smiling in the most erotically “gone” way I’ve ever seen. It’s like my words are her whole world, and she’s just kneeling in the middle. Kneeling naked of course, but for this sort of thing, that goes without saying. Still, every little detail counts, like how her body still trembles against mine as if I’m all thats keeping her upright, and not so much my body as my desire for her to be standing.

Grinning, I lean up on the tips of my toes and kiss as close to her forehead as I can manage before walking past her to look at the rest of our band behind her. “And you’re all my band, too. Each of you so very important for the strength you add to my melody.”

Someone behind me starts to clap. My heart leaps up into my throat. The elegance, the gentle power in it, screams Mistress. Yet, when I turn, I only see Miss Leighton. Just one of Mistress’ corporate slaves, not Mistress herself . . . “Miss . . . Corvi wanted me to tell you that she truly enjoyed the show, but sadly, important business called her away.”

“What . . . business?” Something deep inside of me gives a nice firm twitch. After a show like that, she sent Rachel? I know that I’m just her pawn, twined up in her own song, but I still deserve a certain amount of respect.

The Lady would never have “been called away by business” if Sarah was about to come back with a recruitment in hand. This should be no different. I deserve that much, even as a slave.

My head tingles for a moment, and I hear Her song flowing through it. My eyes hood for a moment as I feel the sound hit me like a strong ocean wave. It pulls me under, drowning me, but only for a moment. The next, I’m straightening myself, and fluttering my eyes. I can feel the slightest ebb in the song, like a current changing, or something redirecting the song’s ocean.

Miss Leighton simply smiles her serene, empty smile. She’s a cardboard cut out of a woman held up by a picture-frame stand. “I’m afraid she didn’t tell me that. I only know that it was important. But, I’ve been told to see your reward. You already have another gig thanks to tonight’s performance.”

A tingle shudders down my spine. Mistress must have opened up her cellphone from wherever she hid to watch us play. Either that, or she’s off right now “ensuring” that gig in other ways.

The latter seems less likely, but its possibility is unnerving.

“Oh. All right. Well that’s some good news, huh . . .?” Everyone else is still all grins. I still feel supercharged, but suddenly bottled. I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.

Tasha’s bright smile and its accompanying voice breaks what feels to me like an uncomfortable silence. “So what do you have planned, Miss Leighton?” Her voice sounds so worshipful, and it makes a part of me clench jealously. I helped make them be Mistress’ puppets, but . . .

“A limo is waiting for all of us outside. It will take us to Miss Corvi’s residence, and from there she has given us permission to enjoy ourself however we see fit until she returns home.” Her voice drips with both innuendo and obedience. The shifting melody in my head gets subtly louder. I’m the musician, and my mist is so much quicker acting than Mistress’ conditioning. Why am I the one obeying?

Only because I helped Her leash me, because I thought that She was what I wanted.

I’m not so sure anymore.

“Mmmm sounds fun. There’s a cabinet or two I think might be fun to raid, if that’d be okay.” Leigh’s cute little voice makes a part of me squirm. We’re the source of her power, but it needs to be okay. No. No, that’s not exactly what I want.

“Of course. She specified that. Though perhaps Sylvia would enjoy spreading around a little mist, too. But for now, we should get outside. The limo won’t wait all night.” She motions for us to follow, and we do.

The way outside is quick enough, but time feels slower inside of my mind where the most disobedient thoughts flow and shift. I don’t want to be obedient, and I can feel the song grow louder in agreement. It sounds the same in so many ways, but there are subtle variations. The beat is harder, the tempo faster, and the lyrics subtly encouraging rebellion.

The limo is comfy, too comfy. There were a few people that cheered for us on our way out. That was a pretty awesome feeling. We already have fans and we’ve only had one show. Hopefully this is a sign of things to come.

Another sign of things to come is how Rachel keeps staring at my eyes. They must not be glowing nearly as much anymore, but they are definitely still pulsing occasionally. Her thighs squirm and rub together under that business appropriate skirt. Finally I catch her in the act, eyes making direct contact with hers instead of looking up once she’s had the thought to look away. I curve my lips into a crooked grin and slowly raise up an eyebrow.

“You look like you want a little entertainment yourself, Miss Leighton.” Something inside of me whispers that the same part of her that has been bent over so many desks and trained to be so very powerfully obedient for Mistress is also a weakness.

I shouldn’t be able to think like this. The song should be silencing such thoughts, but its not. Sarah told me the only reason her light probably didn’t eventually fry away The Lady’s control was because The Lady always treated her so special. The Lady never told her that she couldn’t patrol. The Lady was there for her. After her mind was broken into a million pieces, The Lady even sobbed as she tried to put her back together.

Miss Corvi would never cry because something like that happened to me. She’d try to make a business deal with the witch. Maybe she’d pout that her new favorite toy was broken, but that wouldn’t suit her for long.

“Your eyes are just so gorgeous.” Rachel’s voice sounds faintly breathless. “I was watching you perform. You have a beautiful voice, and you move like the song is what moves you. It’s intoxicating.”

Though Sarah was always loathe to glorify the experience to us, something else she said springs to mind as I wiggle in my seat, arching out with a soft yawn. The Lady always let her pets play. I wonder if Mistress’s permission to melt the band extends to its management?

“You’re going to make me blush, Miss Leighton.” I hood my eyes as stretch out, letting my body shake that extra noticeable bit. I can see it in the way she stares that she notices. “You must say that to all of the new talent. Does Mistress ever let you play with the talent? Because I would love to play with you. Maybe even a little mist if you wanted it? You sounded like you did backstage.”

“I meant you might let the band enjoy a little mist!” Her voice isn’t upset, more embarrassed, and its obvious. Her blush makes her almost glow. “Because they seem to like it, quite a lot . . .”

Her voice trails off, and the band is all fuzzy grins. Even my strong, powerfully resistant Nikki is fluttering her eyes at the thought. “Oh they do. I’ve made them love it quite a lot. Thats not just a perception, that’s become their reality. Maybe you’d like a glittery reality adjustment, too?”

Rachel’s hands grasp tightly at her skirt. “I . . . it would probably feel nice, but I should probably decline. I don’t know how much Mistress would like that.”

“Mistress will mind you being more obedient?” Slowly I raise up my foot and slide the tip up between her legs. “That’s just how she likes you. Shuddering. Open. Helpless. Unless I’m wrong.” I hood my eyes and look to hers as misty sparkles begin to flow from my foot into those firm thighs of hers. “In which case, I’d apologize. Do I need to apologize?”

She feels so warm even through my shoe. If it wouldn’t take so much effort, I’d take it off to feel her more directly. “N-no, you don’t need to apolo . . . gize!” My nebula coils itself past her panties, and I can feel the intense flow of her arousal. She’s already so drawn to me, and I don’t think all of that was from tonight.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt mist from someone whose felt like this before. I can’t place it. She can’t take her eyes off of me, and that’s not new to her when it comes to me. Its familiar even after just a week. She likes watching me. She likes hearing me. She loves feeling me touch her.

“Mmmm did you know I can feel wisps of thought, of emotion, of intent through my power? Does Miss Leighton have a crush on me?” I press my toes and my mist into her so much more firmly, and revel in the feeling of embarrassment mingled with . . . fulfillment? I’m still learning things like this. It takes practice I never felt that I’d need. “I think you do.”

Rachel nods, and its not an ordinary nod. It’s the kind of nod where she can’t quite keep her head from just shaking up and down. I lick my lips again right before she responds, and it makes her stutter more. “I . . . a c-crush on you? Maybe a small one. You’re just young and firm and pretty. Lots of people must . . .”

“Now now, no lying to the nebula . . . You’ve had an extra close eye on me. I can feel it in your words, see it in your eyes, and mmm you’re a little too hot down here for me to be wrong on this one.” I wiggle my foot with a grin. She moans as I coil my mist through her thighs, through the curves of her ass, and then tenderly along her slit. “You’ve noticed me. I think you were glad it got to be you watching us tonight and taking us home. Am I right, Miss Leighton?”

“Yes! Sooo glad! I love watching you move, hearing you talk, your voice is just soooo yummy and you’re just . . . gorgeous!” Her thighs clench hard around my foot as her hips start to grind. Her eyes flutter back under their lids. “Different than our usual talent . . . so much more unique . . .!”

I lean forward as my foot continues to push and twist, glittering mist tangling its way deeper inside of her, wrapping down around and through her legs, and tenderly up along her spine. Already she’s so helpless. All I’d need to do would be to just ask and she would kneel for me, but for one, there’s not enough room for her to comfortably kneel. For another, I don’t want her to kneel until I don’t even have to ask.

Every little part of her body is shaking, clenching, eyes fluttering as her lips twist and tremble with her screaming. The tip of my shoe seems to have found just the right spot to press into her soaked panties, and her voice cracks in the most inaudibly erotic way I’ve ever seen.

She makes such a wonderful plaything. I’m sure Mistress thought that about me, but then she had to go and skip the after party.

“What if I said you could have me, Rachel?” I twist my toe against her subtly as I say her name, and grin as her eyes flutter and struggle to stay staring forward. They fail. “You could touch me, hold me, do all of those things that I can feel you itching to do. You’ll just need to do something for me.”

Finally I can feel my energy twine its way through the wrinkles and curves of her brain. I can feel her whole body filled with my control. It sends shudders down my spine, and down my leg. I’ve never taken the time to feel someone like this. Its a rush. Like with mother, I can feel her desire, her helplessness, but something about this is different. Besides that before a week ago she was a total stranger, her mind is just completely unprepared for this invasion.

Mistress’ methods are effective enough with reinforcement, and the right minds, but I don’t think they compare to mine.

“Annything! To touch you . . . want to hold you . . . Need!” She’s only barely able to enunciate, and it takes a supreme amount of effort. It also takes a lot of effort to resist pressing my foot against her harder to make her lose all of her train of thought.

What might be hottest of all about this lovely little bit of fun, is that all around us, my band sits back and watches. None of them interrupt. I’ve trained them better than that, though I think they deserve a little freer range, too.

“Pleeeeease! Mean it! Aaaaaanything!” Her voice sends shudders down my spine, and with a wicked smile I slowly pull back my leg . . . and she falls to her knees on the limo floor between eyes, eyes desperately looking up to mine from between my legs.

I curl my fingers around the hem of my skirt and slowly slide it up my thighs. “Then lean forward, suckle away your worries, and surrender to me. It’s time the singer reigned in the song.”

As her lips suckle their way up along my thighs, I let my eyes flutter shut and melt back into the appolstrey. Nikki leands her head against mine and I tremble, reaching out to squeeze her hand as Rachel nips beside my thong. Her hand squeezes back, still so firm even so melted and mine, and theres something else thats special about it too.

The way she squeezes my hand makes me remember the way she struggled, and how even after being misted she had defiance. Raw indignation, pride, and a surge of something that can only be described as raw. So much like how I felt . . .

Was a week of suckling and nibbling at Nikki’s defiance withmy mist enough to tear me free of Mistress like this? Was her spirit what tore me loose?

Rachel’s tongue joins her lips as she suckles, and I decide its not important enough to think about right now. She moans as she suckles, and I wrap my legs around her back to pull her closer.

This is more like it. A girl could get used to this.