The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Ophir was exhausted: Mentally, physically, psychologically... After the hazy events of her capture, and waking hooded in a cage, she had been repeatedly moved to a dark, terrifying room where black-veiled figures had subjected her to indignities that she hadn’t even imagined, then re-hooded to be returned to her confinement.

The greater indignity of having been so easily trapped weighed on her. During her long periods in her cage, she tried to work out what had happened, and how her team had been so comprehensively out-thought and out-maneuvered. Clearly, they had somehow managed to identify Talia, and get to her while she was comms-dark in the bath house. But somehow they had managed to block or jam Talia’s tracker signal, and indeed remove it from her at some point. If they could do that, it wasn’t surprising that they’d managed to find Ophir’s own tracker, and remove it from her while she had been unconscious. The wound itched now, rather than aching, but it was still an uncomfortable reminder of how competent their opponent was.

She had seen Talia in the chamber a few times; they were never able to speak, but had managed to flash eye expressions at each other in ing. In contrast, she had only seen Chaya once, briefly, and although she had still been restrained, it appeared that she was being treated very differently. There had been no sign of Naomi, and she held out hope that she had managed to stay free. Maybe even, she had started to plan a rescue? Ophir knew that hope could be a two-edged sword, but for now it gave her something to hang on to.

What was messing with her head was her treatment in the chamber. She came back from each session aching in various parts, often from being stretched in ways she had never known possible. Ruefully, she acknowledged silently that Talia’s previously annoying habit of doing yoga at every spare moment might now, in fact, be paying off somewhat for her. However, it was very rarely actually painful, and when it was, it was very brief. What she really didn’t like, was that the silent women in the chamber appeared to understand, and be able to control, her own body much better than she did.

The first time her hood had come off in the chamber, she had looked around her, taken into all the equipment visible, and assumed—in a way, resigned herself—that she was going to be worked over until she spilled all the secrets they wanted. As she had been securely bound to a table by the silent veiled figures, she had been waiting for the gag to be removed—but it never had been, until she had been returned to the cage.

There had never been any questions asked in the chamber, and she had never even heard voices, except for whispers between the veiled figures that were indecipherable. There were occasional murmurs of satisfaction from under the veils, when she was being played with particularly effectively, and giving out muffled squeals of reluctant sexual ecstasy, or begging for the sweet release of climax, but that was about as far as it got.

Another aspect that she hadn’t been able to figure out was the origin of the other two women she had occasionally seen under similar treatment in the chamber. One tall, one short, both European-looking blondes; their bodies weren’t anything like as hard as her and Talia’s, so they were unlikely to be operational field personnel of whatever agency they might belong to However, there was no other information to speculate with.

She was fed and watered occasionally, always with the hood on. After the first time in the chamber, she had been returned to the cage in a diaper, presumably in case she leaked after being so determinedly probed. They even seemed concerned about her hygiene—they would brush her teeth after food, and twice in the chamber, once they appeared to be finished, her weary body had been taken to a small shower room, secured by her wrists to the wall, then thoroughly soaped and showered. Thoroughly; her attendant’s attention to detail matched the others in the chamber.

All she could think of, given their apparent concern for her ongoing health, was that eventually they wanted to show her to someone important, but then why were they so diligent with their expert sexual manipulations of her body? And why was nobody apparently interested in talking to her?

The cage door opened, and she felt the familiar soft hands encouraging her out. She debated making a brief stand in the cage, but thought better of it. She cooperated, being eased into a standing position, and her reasonably unused diaper was removed. Resigned to her fate for now, she allowed herself to be walked down the familiar corridor and through the heavy doors.

To her surprise, she was walked much further into the room than usual; they then turned, went through another set of doors, and into a room that smelled very different to the main chamber. There was more of an antiseptic smell, and from her bare feet she could feel a slight vibration.

Her wrists, currently bound in front of her, were lifted up and secured to something above her head. Something was wrapped around each ankle, pinning her feet in place. Then she felt the hood being unzipped, and slipped off. With relief, she felt the cool air on her damp hair, and cautiously opened her eyes.

“I am so pleased to meet you.“

Standing in front of her was a tall woman, clad in a black catsuit and hood that set off the pale skin and red lips of her face. The suit was trimmed with patterns of fine silver chain. Her hands were covered in black gloves, and one held a long, thin black rod, topped by a silver ball. She spoke Arabic in what sounded like an Egyptian accent, and was apparently quite confident—correctly—that Ophir could understand her.

“I am Goddess Asherah. Saira has given you to me.” Her tongue slipped out, touching her lips before returning inside.

Ophir struggled to control her expression. Many questions came into her head, she she settled for the obvious one. “What do you want with me?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed, and the rod in her hand moved faster than Ophir’s eyes could follow. The sting as it cracked across the side of her left butt cheek was far more painful than anything that had been done to her in the chamber, and she couldn’t help but cry out in pain.

“ ‘What do you want with me, Goddess Asherah?’ " the woman hissed, glaring at Ophir.

Tears were streaming from Ophir’s eyes, as much from the shock as from the brief pain, but she managed to squeeze out “I’m sorry, Goddess Asherah.“

“Better,” purred Asherah, apparently mollified. She reached up with her empty hand and dabbed at Ophir’s tears. “What do I want with you? It is more a matter of what I want for you.“

She gave a gesture, and one of the veiled attendants standing behind her stepped forward, holding a syringe. Ophir winced as it pushed into her so-far unwounded butt cheek, and felt the burn of its contents in her muscle.

“I hope you enjoyed your time—so far—in the Black Chamber.” Asherah moved over a tall black pillar, decorated like her with silver strands, one of a pair flanking her and her silent attendants. “You seemed to appreciate the work of my diligent acolytes. Of course, they—and I—were just getting to know you.”

She traced her finger over the silverwork. “I understand that Mossad agents are generally well read. Did you ever read ‘1984’?”

Ophir struggled with the context switch, while still concerned with whatever drug had been shot into her. “1984? Georg... Georg Orway? I read it a long time ago.” She saw Asherah’s rod twitch, and hastily added ”Goddess Asherah.” There was a time for making a stand, and this was not it.

Asherah gave a small, intimate, approving smile, and Ophir couldn’t help but sigh in relief. However, her sex was starting to twitch, and she was in no position to help it, even if she had wanted to.

“Do you when Winston—the rebel—was being instructed by O’Brien—the teacher—and O’Brien explains that the focus of the Party is neither ‘thou shalt’, nor ‘thou shalt not’, but rather ’thou art’? That is what we desire for you, Ophir, my supplicant.“

Two veiled black figures moved from behind Asherah to Ophir’s side. Two more attended the silvered poles in front of her.

“It is time for you to begin your pilgrimage. Come to the feet of Goddess Asherah, and worship.“

From behind, something pressed against Ophir’s neck and back, then pulled her body forwards into a reclining position, ing from her head to her shoulders. At the same time, the two veiled figures before her pulled down cables from alongside the poles.

“Do you feel Saira’s serum working inside you? Do you feel your senses on fire?”

Asherah was regarding Ophir with a look that went well beyond merely predatory, crossing the threshold to actual hunger. Ophir, in her fevered state, would not have been at all surprised had Asherah pounced on her and taken a generous bite.

The sling behind her was connected to the cables at the front, and suddenly Ophir’s body was rising in the air. Her feet had already been released, and now were scooped up and slotted into awaiting slings before being buckled in place.

“Do you feel vulnerable, Ophir? Do you feel... exposed?”

Each of her hands was released from the fastening above, and brought down to be fastened behind her back. While it made little practical difference to her confinement, it left her bound body unconstrained by vertical position.

A collar was fastened around her neck, holding her head firmly in place, and then one of the attendants started to attach electrodes to several places on her chest. Something was clipped onto her left index finger, and suddenly she could hear “beep... beep... beep...” which appeared to be in time with her increasingly rapid heartbeat.

Her whole body was now tingling, as if she’d suddenly come in from the freezing cold outdoors to a hot room, and she wanted to squirm around to try to relieve the feeling, but two straps were fastened over her body and pulled tight. She was now effectively one with the sling. Looking above and behind her, she saw that two more black and silver poles were the other anchors to the sling, and above her on the ceiling a large mirror displayed her confinement.

Soft hands from behind looped a plastic tube over her face and slid its soft prongs into her nose. She felt the flow of dry, cool air start to issue from it.

“The serum allows your body to experience a much more prolonged ecstasy than normal,” Asherah explained, leaning over Ophir. “We found that giving supplemental oxygen helps to keep our sacrifices aware during the ritual.”

She patted Ophir’s cheek, smiling in amusement at the terrified look on the girl’s face. “Do not worry for your safety, my dear. Your health is being carefully monitored, and my priestesses will keep you in a sustainable zone for your heart.”

She turned to the silent black-veiled figures behind her. “You may begin the ritual.”

As two figures approached Ophir, Asherah walked to the side and climbed up a daïs to sit on a padded black and silver throne, the rod resting in her lap, while she watched Ophir with a smile.

Ophir winced as one robed figure placed a metallic device over her left nipple, twisting something that pulled the nipple and more of her tender breast up inside. She felt spikes prick at her skin.

Suddenly, she noticed a distinctive gap about half the way along her tormentor’s right eyebrow. She had seen that scar before, and heard how it had occurred.

“Chaya? Chaya! What are you doing!“

The figure ignored her outburst, producing a second device which she started to attach to Ophir’s right breast.

“Stop it, please Chaya! Why are you doing this to me?”

“She cannot hear you,” Asherah remarked, leaning forward on the throne. “She only hears the commands from her earpieces. And, she no longer responds to that name.”

“What did you do to her? OW!” The second device tightened, pulling even more breast into the spikes.

“She, like her companion”—the other priestess was between Ophir’s legs, applying what felt like warm oil around Ophir’s extremely tender nub—“have been programmed with erotic techniques from over a thousand years of human culture. You should feel honored to have such a wealth of knowledge shared with you.”

“No, you can’t—aaaaahh!” A silken rope was wound around Ophir’s breasts, and slowly pulled in a figure eight pattern, just as sometime round and ice-cold was pushed past her starfish and into her bottom. Ophir started to pant, her fingers and toes reflexively curling as the increasingly powerful sensations ran through her body.

“Do not feel that you have to hold your tongue,” Asherah said, sweetly, leaning back in the throne. “I find the sacrifice’s sounds... soothing. But let me not interrupt further.”

The two figures continued their silent work, as Ophir trembled in her restraints, and tried to choke back screams of forced ecstasy...

Perhaps two hours later, perhaps longer—what did time mean, in such circumstances?—a tall figure in a red gown and hood entered through the soundproofed doorway. She knelt at the base of Asherah’s throne, and bowed.

“Goddess Asherah.”

“Implanter!” Asherah lightly touched the top of the figure’s hood. “You are welcome.”

The Implanter walked unhurriedly to Ophir’s side. She consulted the monitor displaying the girl’s vital signs, then looked into her face. Ophir’s eyes were glazed, and she appeared to be talking silently to herself as the two veiled priestesses continued their silent work. Only the occasional whimper was a clue to the sensations still controlling her.

At a silent signal, the black robes withdrew and detached their devices from Ophir’s body, then gathered them on a trolley and left as silently as they had arrived.

Asherah eased herself from the throne, and descended to stand next to the Implanter, who had opened a small case and removed a syringe. Ophir’s arm was swabbed, and a vein found for the needle, but she barely twitched, staring blankly up at the ceiling mirror.

“An impressive result,” murmured the Implanter, unfolding a red plastic cover over the girl’s still-trembling body. “The skills of your priestesses never fail.”

“Indeed,” purred Asherah. She rested her hand on Ophir’s mouth for a moment, before turning away. “I will leave her with you, Implanter.”

Ophir had been brought to the very edge of madness by the tools and fingers of the priestesses, her artificially heightened sensitivity exploited in every vulnerable part of the body. Repeatedly guided to the very edge of a cliff of climax, and pulled over it when she least expected, she had temporarily lost all ability to determine reality from dream from nightmare.

As the sheet was tucked around her, she ed the new arrival—intelligent, fierce eyes gazing at her from above a glistening red mask—but her exhausted body was in no condition to react. She was ive at the sheet was tucked around her, as an arc of small electrodes were placed around her temples and forehead, and as a small light device was fixed over her left eye, and focused to stream red light on her retina. The room had darkened, and a pattern of red stars was slowly moving over the ceiling. Snug headphones shut out any sound from the room, replacing it with a slow, irregular, quiet background beat.

The tingling in her body had faded away, replaced with a kind of numbness. Her mind was completely ive, letting sights and sounds flow into it with no friction; the consciousness that was Ophir had been slowly, gently smothered by the hypnotic serum that now patiently worked its way through her brain.

The Implanter waited patiently, watching the signals from her monitoring, observing Ophir’s mind being taken over by the serum. When she was finally ready, she activated the microphone in her mask and leaned over the stunned girl’s face.

“You were driving down the desert road. The stars were bright in the night sky. You were trying to put as many miles as possible behind you...”

A while later, Goddess Asherah made a silent reappeance, standing at the Implanter’s side and watching with interest as the Implanter slid memories into Ophir’s unresisting brain. She waited for a break in the narration, then touched the Implanter’s shoulder.

“Goddess Asherah.” The Implanter leaned back, checking her monitoring, then turned to Asherah.

“How goes the implantation?” Asherah took in the dreamy expression on Ophir’s face, the girl clearly far, far away from the room they stood in.

“As smooth as silk,” purred the Implanter. “The new memories are received without question, held as unshakeable. They will be believed even over the previous experienced memories.” She looked at her tablet. “I have maybe another hour of implanting to complete Saira’s requests.”

“Wonderful,” purred Asherah. “Could you perhaps add one for me?” She ed over a tablet of her own.

The Implanter studied the tablet, and a smile tugged the corners of her eyes. “But of course, Goddess. I would be honored.”

“I thank you, Implanter. Now, I will leave you to your work.” Asherah strode regally out of the doors.

The Implanter consulted her original tablet, reactivated her microphone, and bent back to her work.

The fingers of the early morning sun finally poked through the car’s dusty windshield to play across Ophir’s sleeping face. The light and warmth nudged her to wakefulness with a groan, sitting up from her slump against the door pillar.

She blinked the sleep from her eyes, reflexively checking around her. The car was empty apart from her, there was no sound or sign of human presence from outside. The tattered jacket that she’d used as a blanket was starting to become uncomfortably warm, now that the sun was chasing away the cold of the desert night, and she discarded it on the back seat.

Her body ached all over, and her mouth was dry. Pulling herself together, she tried to what had happened, teasing reality away from the vivid dreams that had racked her exhausted brain during the night. The cage door catch, not properly closed, swinging open with a creak. Managing to get her cuffed hands in front of her once she could stand, and pulling off her hood. Dexterously picking the cuffs open, then listening for noise before creeping into the corridor. Finding the stairs that led down to a garage, and streaking this car that had its keys on the dash.

A long desert road, finally ing a paved highway. The stars had been bright, and she had instinctively headed south while avoiding built up areas. Finally, spotting this large boulder at the side of the road and pulling over, exhausted, to hide until day.

She slapped the dashboard, suddenly filled with boiling anger. Damn Chaya! Laughing at her and Talia being tormented in the Black Chamber, after giving them up to Saira. How could she have betrayed them so?

She thought of Talia, and felt guilty for leaving her friend in Saira’s hands, but knew that she had no alternative. The only thing to do was get herself free, then she could try to come back with a tooled-up squad to free her. And maybe, whack that traitorous bitch Chaya, while they were at it.

She turned the key, and the car’s engine coughed into life. The gas tank was low, less than a quarter empty, but there were a few bills stuffed into the driver’s door pocket. That should be enough for gas, water, a snack, and hopefully a telephone call to warn her organization to pick her up at the border.

The old car crawled reluctantly onto the road, and she turned south. Time to find a gas station, and make good her escape.