The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Saira was in Oblivion with Naomi, silently watching her subject as the drugs slowly reshaped her, when the Black Chamber acolytes brought in Amelie.

The blonde French DGSE agent was wrapped head to toe like Naomi, but unlike Naomi, her mouth was still gagged, her cocoon was secured onto the couch with broad straps,and her eyes were wide in fear, darting around the room.

As the acolytes departed, as silently as they came, Saira slowly walked around the table to the new arrival.

“I hope you enjoyed your time in the Black Chamber,” she said, smiling. “This place is ... different. This is Oblivion.”

A nurse came in, wheeling an I/V stand which she placed at the head of Amelie’s couch. Carefully parting the wrapping at the side of the woman’s neck, she cleaned the skin and then slid in the needle, provoking a muffled squeak of pain from the woman.

“It was so rude of your agency to plan to—what was the phrase?—‘erase’ me, or effacer, simply because our interests clashed,” sighed Saira. “Now, had you been a field agent pursuing me, I could ire your frankness of purpose. But you, my dear, are an office creature, and would never want to dirty your hands. What beautiful hands they are! Your skin products must be top notch.“

She reached up to the I/V, Amelie’s eyes following her, and clicked open the drip.

“So I must return you to your office—with some mementos of your fun in the Black Chamber—to deliver a message from me to your chiefs. But I cannot allow your memories to go with you. Hence—Oblivion.” She gestured up at the I/V.

“Every structure in your brain that holds a memory will break down as the serum spreads through it. In twenty hours or so, you will be a clean slate, on which I may write whatever memories I wish.”

She indicated the silent Naomi.

“This lady is far along in the process. A few more hours, and we can bring her back to her stall, to start a new, blissful life. But for her, and many others, we blended Oblivion with heavy sedation. It’s much more humane that way, rather than be aware of your very self slipping away, minute by minute. For you, however,”—Saira’s smile was sharper—“I think it only fitting that you enjoy the authentic experience.“

She crossed to the nearby wall, where a large digital clock was currently off. She powered it on, and started a timer counting down from 24 hours.

“You can see that okay? Very good. I’ll come back now and then to ask you about your experience. Don’t hold back! This is an important part of my research; I want to know everything.“

She kissed the tip of the gagged woman’s nose.

“Au revoir, Amelie.“

Talia had gone from fearing her visits to the Black Chamber, to being resigned to them. She had always been mentally tough, and although she could do nothing about the sensations elicited from her body by the silent women, she had managed to bring herself to a frame of mind that distanced herself from what was happening to her body—it was almost as if it were happening to someone else. She still couldn’t stop the reflexive squeals and screams as a particular device or technique hit its mark, but it bothered her less. Even when she was in the shower cubicle, and soapy hands were carefully working over her body, she could just about imagine herself in a bubble bath in her apartment instead.

The cage door opened, and she decided to resist, just for the hell of it. As the hands reached under her arms, she squeezed her arms against her body and flexed her tired shoulder muscles as much as she could.

There was a pause, then the sensation of plastic over her mouth and nose, and a tightening around her neck. When she drew breath, the plastic pressed on her mouth, and virtually no air came. She gasped, flailing with her legs in system panic—her arms bound and immobile—but just hit the cage bars with her knee, painfully. Although the hood kept her blind, her vision turned red, then gray...

The obstruction was suddenly gone, and she sucked in air through her gag in long gasps. When the hands reached in again, she was in no condition to resist, and obediently slid out of the cage to lie, panting, on the floor. The holes in the gag made a shrill whistle, which added to her humiliation and sense of defeat.

Arms guided her to a kneeling position, then her arm was held firmly as a needle was stuck into it. This was new, and she wondered what she might have been given, but she was in no position to fight.

Now the hood was removed, and she opened her eyes—which revealed that she still had red spots in her vision—to see the two beige-dressed women who normally brought her to the Black Chamber. To her concern, they were now accompanied by a woman in scrubs with a surgical mask and cap, who was securing a syringe in a small case.

The gag was still in place, and so when one of the women produced electric hair clippers and started to work her way through Talia’s already-shortened hair, there was little she could do to object. She saw now that she was kneeling on a sheet, clearly placed to gather the locks of hair as they fell from her.

The woman was careful with her shaving, even gentle, changing guides several times to execute an ever-finer trim. Talia sat ively, watching the carpet of her hair accumulate on the sheet, and wondering what this was in aid of.

The final over her head to remove the stubble took a while, and she became aware that her ivity had changed from being a choice to a default. Her limbs, and even her head, felt heavy, and it was starting to be a struggle to stay awake.

By the time that the masked woman returned, pushing a gurney, and one of the other women used a hairdryer to blow the finer trimmed hairs off her shoulders and back, she was quite docile. They guided her onto her back on the gurney, and covered with a sheet, without any opposition. Even when the gag was eased out of her mouth, it didn’t occur to her to do anything more than lick her dry lips.

She watched the ceiling lights go past as the gurney trundled slowly down the corridor. Dimly aware that she’d been sedated, she could only come up with the irrelevant thought that at least she wasn’t going for another round in the Black Chamber. They wanted her awake and aware in there...

Bright lights overhead made her squint, realizing that her masked nurse had been ed by several others. There was a sharp smell of antiseptic, edged with something like ozone.

“I’m so pleased to have you here.”

A new face, mask below her chin, was smiling at her. Talia’s drugged brain thought that she looked very pretty.

“I am Saira.”

She knew that name. They had been looking for Saira. Talia had found her—wasn’t that funny? She chuckled to herself.

Saira laughed quietly with her. “Quite! We finally meet. And here you are, about to be a huge help to me with my research.”

She indicated the masked women, neither of whom appeared to be smiling, or even capable of it. “Dr Ahmed is an expert brain surgeon; you are very fortunate to be under her care. And Dr Amal”—she indicated the woman who had sedated Talia—“is a very competent anesthetist.” She giggled. “You could ask your friends about her! She makes quite excellent coffee.“

Talia was far too far gone to understand the humor, gazing dumbly at Saira.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Saira patted her cheek. “I don’t intend to make fun of you.” She turned faux-serious. “But, my dear, it’s clear by now that you don’t enjoy the attentions that we so generously give you in the Black Chamber. The Goddess reports to me that you’re trying to distance your mind from the sensations in your body. I think we need to try another approach. Don’t you?“

She held a glass vial between her fingers, a few inches from Talia’s unfocused eyes. “My serums have to travel most of the cerebral bloodstream, shedding much of their efficacy, before they happen across the particular part of the brain they aim to affect. The noise this introduces in the results of my experiments is, frankly, intolerable. Wouldn’t it be so much be better to land them directly in the designated part of the brain, and let them degrade rapidly afterwards, rather than having to survive a whole journey?”

A sharp smell of antiseptic came along with a cold sensation on her freshly-shaved skin—something was being brushed over her scalp.

“We are not asking much from you, my dear. A few, a very few, tiny holes in your beautiful skull, so that we can insert micro-sensors and drug delivery lines; once your hair regrows, the lines will be very hard to see. Then, we can deliver my experimental serums to the precisely relevant parts of the brain.”

A hard, pointy frame was being fastened around Talia’s head, tightening, and immobilizing it. Somehow, It triggered a long-buried reflex, and her muscles briefly spasmed.

“There will be no pain, I promise you. Just, a wonderful journey through your emotions, and thoughts. Such as we leave you.”

Amal moved to Talia’s side. “I’m going to put you into a twilight state. You won’t anything that happens.” She slowly squeezed a syringe into the back of Talia’s hand.

“Are we ready to start?” Dr Ahmed asked, brusquely.

“Just a moment...” Amal gently brushed Talia’s cheek, watching her eyelid quiver. “That’s right, let yourself go...” She brushed again, and this time the eyelid didn’t twitch.

“Over to you, Dr Ahmed.” She stepped back, watching her monitors, as Talia drifted in a twilight dream.

She was lying in a comfortable bed. Her head ached, and something was wrapped around it, like a turban. Everything seemed fuzzy.

“Can you hear me?” A woman’s kind face.

She tried to move her hands up, but they didn’t want to move very far, so she gave up.

“Thirsty,” she mumbled. A straw was carefully pushed into her mouth, and she managed to suck cool water into her mouth.

“Not too much,” the woman warned her, easing the straw back out. “I’ll give you some more soon.” She took hold of Talia’s wrist, her firm fingers finding the pulse there. “Does anything hurt?”

“My head,” she groaned.

“I’ll give you something for it.” She left for a moment, then returned with two small tablets. “Open wide.”

Talia obeyed, and the woman dropped the two tablets in, and returned the straw. “Swallow.” The tablets slipped down her throat, chased by a gulp of water.

“Wanna pee.” Her bladder was starting to report in, and it wasn’t happy. She tried to work out how to sit up.

The woman gave a tut, and fastened a strap over Talia’s chest, holding her in place. “You’re not fit to stand yet. I’ll help you.”

She disappeared again for a couple of minutes, then Talia saw her return in a mask and gloves, holding a tube. She lifted the gown covering Talia’s middle, and reached down. “This might be uncomfortable.”

Talia felt something cold, then a sting as the tube pushed into her peehole, and she whimpered as it progressed down, but then suddenly felt relief as the pressure in her bladder decreased.

“There we are.” The woman picked up a wrapper, and eased the gown and blanket back over her middle. “Try to get some sleep. We need to wait a few days for the swelling around your head to go down.”

Talia was too muddled and tired to object. She closed her eyes, and quickly slipped into dreams.

“I’m so pleased to have you here!”

This bed was hard and uncomfortable. Talia opened her eyes, her head feeling much clearer than it had been over the past few days. Whatever had been wrapped around it had been removed, and she could feel cool air over her near-bald scalp.

This wasn’t the small bedroom she’d been recovering in. It was much more like a laboratory, with various equipment and glassware on shelves around her, and bright lights around. She tried to sit up, but, to her alarm ,realized that she was very securely fastened onto this surface at her neck, around her body, legs and arms. Her left arm was down by her side, but her right was stretched out away from her body.

A familiar face appeared, the woman wearing a white coat and black apron. “You me, don’t you?”

Talia stared at the face for a moment, then it clicked. The operating room. “Saira! What is this?”

“This? This is my primary laboratory.” Saira gestured around her, Talia doing her best to follow with her eyes despite the restriction around her neck. “Here, I synthesize and experiment with serums. It has proven to be a very profitable business whenever I produce an effective product. But,” she shrugged, “you know how the market is. You can’t rest on your laurels; you have to keep running just to stand still.”

She picked up a hand mirror from a table. “My edge is in my understanding of the interactions of hormones and proteins with different parts of the brain. This was hard-won knowledge, let me assure you. But I’m always looking to expand and refine my knowledge. This is where you come in, my dear.” She held the mirror above Talia’s head. “Take a look.”

Talia did so—and gasped in horror. Across her scalp, pairs of wires and thin transparent tubes sprouted from small rubber fixings that appeared to be embedded in her skull. The tubes and wires were eventually gathered together by tries, and ran off somewhere out of vision.

“What have you done to me? You’ve turned me into some kind of cyborg!” Normally, Talia enjoyed reading science fiction in her downtime, but it was one thing to read a sci-fi tale, and quite another to be apparently part of one.

Saira laughed. “Not quite, my dear. This is temporary, but it does give me complete direct access to insert serums precisely into your brain—and monitor the local effects.” She indicated a laptop on the counter, from which several cables ran to other equipment. “It has been a while since I’ve had a suitable subject for experimentation, and I’ve built up quite a backlog of serums to trial.”

She returned the mirror to its holder, and rolled up Talia’s gown to her belly button. “I just need to put another sensor in: it might be cold.” She produced a bulbous metal probe that trailed several wires, and squeezed some lube onto it. “You might find it helps to breathe out.”

Talia squealed as the cold object was pushed unceremoniously into her sex, then twisted left and right until it bedded down properly. Then another, smaller probe went into her starfish.

“I could measure your body temperature with an oral probe,” Saira itted, “but the rectal temperature is more accurate. And, isn’t it more fun?”

She turned to someone behind Talia. “Please start the blood collection now.”

Someone in pink scrubs and a pink mask and cap walked over to Talia’s outstretched right hand. Talia could now see that a sterile port had been taped into place there. The pink woman took a small vial and taped a label onto it, then plugged it into the port and let it half-fill with dark blood.

“Well, I think we’re ready now.” Saira settled herself on a stool next to the laptop. “The serums usually take effect very rapidly when applied like this, but fade quickly too, so we can get through quite a few experiments in the next three hours.” She giggled. “You didn’t have any other appointments today, did you?”

Talia’s only reply was a growl. Saira rolled her eyes.

“I suppose you’re thinking that you’re not going to tell me what sensations you’re feeling. My dear, between the sensors in your brain and body, and the periodic blood samples we will be taking, I will have all the information I require. But let me show how hollow your defiance is.” She tapped something on the keyboard, and Talia held a hum from the equipment behind her. “We shouldn’t have to wait long.”

Talia could feel her heartbeat accelerating—whether as a result of whatever serum was pumping into her, or simply as a reaction to her circumstances, she couldn’t tell.

“Don’t you feel sorry for the rabbits?” Saira asked, briefly raising her eyes from her laptop screen. “Poor little bunnies clamped to benches in pharmacy labs so humans can test headache pills on them.” She giggled again. “Much easier to have empathy with them now, isn’t it?”

She walked over to Talia, raised her hand above the girl’s pinned head, then slowly lowered it, index finger pointing down, towards Talia’s right eye.

Talia felt a flood of cold fill her body, and went straight to full-body trembling. She strained against the restraints, to no avail. The finger, tipped with an immaculate rose-pink nail, continued to descend.

“No! Please, stop! Please!” Hysteria rose in Talia, and cold sweat ran down her face. “I can’t! I’m afraid! No! Noooo!” Tears streamed from her eyes, and she felt wet warmth between her legs.

Saira slowed her finger, halting it an inch above Talia’s face. She held it there for a while, watching the ashen-faced girl whimper and struggle—then took it away, returning to her seat.

“Next blood sample,” she instructed the pink woman, who obediently bent to her task. She scrutinized the screen for a while, and Talia felt her body slowly come back under her control.

Finally, Saira sat up, and faced Talia again. “My Fear serum. What do you think?”

Talia shivered, this time not from the effects of the serum. “How... how did you do that to me?”

“Simple biochemistry, my dear, and a very good idea about the associated brain functions. I would say that I hit the bullseye with that location, wouldn’t you?”

She turned back to the laptop. “Now for number 2...”

Over the next few hours, Talia was assaulted by a huge range of artificially induced sensations and emotions. Sometimes the initial dose of serum had little effect, and Saira had to ramp it up until she obtained an acceptable signal. A couple of tests had no effect whatsoever, despite the dose, which had Saira quietly cursing wasted time and money. However, most managed to hijack Talia’s brain with very little effort.

There were times that Talia thought she was dreaming, and others that were nightmares Once, she broke out into something like glossolalia, and it took a while for normal speech to return. She was run through the gamut of emotions from joy, through anger, to tear-soaked despair, then uncontrollable lust. Through all this, Saira calmly watched her sensors, had the pink woman periodically take more blood, and wore away Talia’s mental resilience.

Finally, she shut the laptop lid and walked back to the lab table. “How is my little rabbit?”

Talia’s legs and arms were twitching and cramping uncontrollably. Only the restraints were stopping her from breaking or straining something in her body. Saira pursed her lips, and ran her fingers along Talia’s arm.

“I thought this might happen,” she said, ruefully. “Some of the by-products when the serums break down can be quite toxic, and cause damage to the brain matter and cranial nerves.” She brightened, and clapped her hands. “No matter! Dr Ahmed will be able to fix you up.” She drew up a syringe, and inserted it into the port in Talia’s right hand. “Sleepy time in three... two... one...”

Talia was back in bleary-eyed sedation. She looked around—this was the operating room again, wasn’t it? Some familiar eyes above masks, and of course the antiseptic smell.

Two nurses lifted her legs into stirrups, strapping them firmly in place. Something warm was spread over her mound by gentle fingers, making her sigh.

“You have been such a huge help,” cooed a familiar voice. She gazed up to see a face—Saira. Unlike the others, she wasn’t masked and gowned.

“Dr Ahmed is still preparing,” Saira explained, “so the nurses will look after you until she is ready.” Talia felt a razor start to scrape the now-soft fur from her mound. “I have someone to see, so I’m going to leave you in their very capable hands.”

She disappeared, and Talia lay ively for a while, feeling the attentions around her mound, until warm water was run over it, tickling her sex.

“Always wan’d shave,” she mumbled.

A different face above her. Amma... Amal?

“How are we doing?” Amal asked sweetly. Talia felt small fingers teasing her warm slit.

“Kinda nice...” She was quite blasted. Shouldn’t have done shots with the girls. Shouldn’t have ... Shouldn’t...

The fingers were made of silk, caressing her. It was wrong—but how could it be wrong, when it felt so fulfilling?

“We are going to repair your mind. Isn’t that wonderful?”

It certainly sounded great. Talia’s critical faculties were buried so deep that they might never see sunlight.

“After we remove the damaged brain tissue, we’re going to carefully trim away your higher brain functions. No more worrying for you, no more cares. Doesn’t that sound good?”

Something buried deep in Talia’s mind was jumping up and down, shouting at her, but all she could make out was an annoying warbling. She frowned, and tried to wave it away, but her hands were firmly pinned to her sides. That triggered a reflex to make her sit up, but she then realized that she had been firmly strapped to the operating table. More alarms started to go off in her head.

“Don’t want... can’t... ohhhhhhhhh...” The fingers caressing her slit had moved to work their way around her nub, and her body shivered with the guilty, wonderful feelings spreading through it, even though dulled by the sedation. “Feels so good...”

“It does, doesn’t it?” murmured Amal. “And we are going to implant a remote stimulation unit down there, so Saira can grant you her blessing any time that she so desires. Won’t that be wonderful?”

“More like this,” breathed a voice from between her legs, and now slick fingers worked their way inside her.

“I’m ready to start,” said a brusque voice. “Put her under.”

Amal produced a black rubber mask and held it just above Talia’s confused face. “Deep breaths for me, please.” She pushed the mask firmly onto Talia’s mouth and nose, and strapped it in place. She turned briefly to the nurses working on Talia’s sex: “You can keep going for now. We can give her a wonderful send-off.”

She reached under the table, and there was a hiss. “Increasing the halothane.” She peered into Talia’s eyes. “Good night, Talia. When you wake, things will be quite different—but you will have such a lovely life...” The world started to spin in Talia’s vision. “Going... going...” The black curtain came down.

Amal sat patiently for a few minutes, letting the halothane saturate her patient’s system. Finally, she turned it down and removed the mask.

“Let’s secure this lovely airway...” She snapped a laryngoscope blade into place, slid it into Talia’s unresisting mouth, and eased it into position. “Jaw up...” She peered into the airway, lit by the laryngoscope light. “And there are the vocal cords.” She slid a tube down along the blade, squeezed a small syringe to inflate a cuff to hold it in place, and connected the other end of the tube to the ventilator, ing that Talia’s chest was still rising and falling, and her oxygen saturation was holding up. “All yours, Dr Ahmed. You can stop the stimulation now, ladies.”

“Thank you, Amal.” The Dr picked up an uncomfortably industrial-looking drill. “And now, time to make a new servant for Saira.”