The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

July looked up. She could see only a small window set in the wall before her. But it was a window made from dark, tinted glass. She couldn’t see anything on the other side of it; if there was anything on the other side of it at all.

It was the only window in the room, and since it was a dead end, there wasn’t anywhere else for her to look. She could try to look around the inside of this room she’d found herself in, but it was even darker than the tinting of its solitary window. No light had been provided to her; nothing had been given to light her wait as she sat there.

July put her hands on her upper legs, then thought otherwise, and slid them off to trace over what was ing her seated position. It felt like some kind of cot— bolted to the wall, and having no relationship to the floor. She shifted up and down in place, pressuring it with her weight to test her theory.

It sprung in response to her shifting; it was bolted to the wall, and not free-standing on the floor.

So she was in a strange dark room, with a tinted window, and a cot bolted to the wall. That was all the information that July could get for herself, unless someone turned a light on for her.

She thought about it again, for a second. She could try using sensation to map out the space, anyway, the way she’d mapped out her seat. Shaky in the dark, she rose to her feet, her hands stretched out in front of her, to brace against any unknown objects that might be waiting for her there.

The only thing July could see was the tinted window ahead of her. Since she could see the window there, it meant there was no column between her and it; and no piece of furniture tall enough to obstruct her view. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t something lower to the ground ahead of her; she hunched partly forward, to feel out the space at shin-level, to protect herself against walking into something and suffering a painful strike to her shin.

It was disorienting to walk in the dark. July felt as if she were moving blind, and she felt tense all the time she was walking, afraid that at any moment she was about to knock into something and get the accompanying burst of pain that would come with it. The fear of that hypothetical possibility had all her nerves on edge. This attuned her to the room; it was only through her added feelings of nervousness that July realized the air in it was chill. Not enough to make her shiver, but enough to make her uncomfortable.

She reached the tinted window without knocking into anything, and put her hand up against the glass. To her surprise it was warm; as if the room on the other side was heated, and so heated that the heat even inflected itself into the tinted glass.

July dropped her hand. She walked along the wall in one direction, trailing her hand along the window, then along the wall itself when the window ended. She walked until her body came up flush against the next wall.

Then she walked back the other way, until she came to the opposite wall. She repeated this exercise to trace out all four walls of her room, even including the one that bore the weight of her cot.

Then she returned to one of the walls that was adjacent to the wall holding the window. She crossed the room again, from side to side instead of back to front, to see if there were any objects she had not encountered on her direct room through the very center of the room. She traced out dozens of paths this way; it was much less efficient than just looking around would have been, but that wasn’t an option for her.

She would walk from one side of the room, hit the opposite wall; feeling it suddenly come up under her outstretched hands with no warning. In one second, she was sinking in the nothingness void; then suddenly, there was something under her hands.

When July came to the opposite, she would make one pace to the left, turn around, and follow that new route back to the wall she’d started from.

It reminded her of when she’d taken swimming lessons, long ago, in her youth, making laps from one end of the pool to the other over and over. It felt the same, only now she was lapping the darkness, tracing a map of the room in her mind as she went.

When she had followed the last path, and finally found herself in a corner, flush against the windowed wall again, she had to concede that the room was empty. There was absolutely nothing in it, except for her, and the cot bolted to the wall.

Tired from both walking, and from the tedious task of plotting the room out mentally one blind step at a time, July returned herself to the cot, and sank down into sitting on it again. Having returned herself there, she found herself greeted with more than just cot’s .

Her own thoughts were waiting for her there, too, dressed up in the form of questions.

Why was she in a darkened, empty room? Why did this room have a window? Was it only tinted on one side? Could someone on the other side of it see in— see her, when she couldn’t see them? Was someone standing there watching her right now? Why would they want to watch her— would they even be able to see her in the utter blackness that was holding her? How had she gotten here? Why had she been brought here?

How long would she have to sit in the darkened silence and wonder these things?That question, at least, was answered for her in the next moment, when she heard a voice enter the room.

“Hello, July.”

She was so shocked at hearing something— she’d already become so used to silence that its opposite stumped her— that she didn’t think to speak back in reply.

“I’m sure you’re wondering what you’re doing here,” the voice continued. It was a woman’s voice, but not the voice of anyone she knew. It was unrecognizable to her— the voice of a stranger. “You’re going to be one of my slaves; one of the next girls to become one, though I’m not quite sure of what the order is going to be. I’ve got two others in rooms like you; I’m trying a different strategy for each one of you. I must it, I’m curious to see which one will prove to be the most effective.”

July squinted in the dark; unsure of where to begin in the process of trying to understand the information that had just come to her through the room’s wall-mounted corner speakers.

“Can you guess what my strategy for you is?” The voice asked, its tone flecked with amusement now.

July really couldn’t. She didn’t have a clue about how one went about making a slave.

“No answer? Well, I’ll check back in with you later, and maybe you’ll have an answer for me then.”

The room lapsed back into silence; the woman who’d spoken had removed herself. In doing so, she had sent July back to her void, and left her to sit in its company once again.

The woman did not re-interrupt July’s darkness. It became hard to keep track of time; July had no markers. At least if the woman had spoken to her frequently through the room’s speakers, it would have been one habitual thing to cling to, and reckon time by. But she didn’t.

July’s constant companion was silence— and darkness. No light was ever provided for her eyes to see, and no sound was provided for her ears to hear.

The only variations in her timeless waiting were the periods of unconsciousness that came by sleeping. But they did nothing to orient her in time, either. She fell asleep in soundless darkness, and woke back into it. She fell asleep with no idea what time or day it was; and she woke up with the same ignorance.

Only one thing changed, shortly after the woman’s announcement through the speakers. It happened maybe one or two sleeps after— during the time she was asleep, a person, or multiple people, entered while she was asleep. When July woke up, she found she’d been hooked up to a standing IV; it meant she could still walk and move freely, to her relief.

It was an easy guess as to what was in there; July hadn’t eaten or drank anything since she’d first woke up in the room, and clearly the woman holding her captive wasn’t interested in starving her to death. The faint hunger pangs and thirst which had haunted her during her first and second stretches of awareness were completely gone, and they never came back.

Around the same time as the IV was introduced into her little world, she found that a place for her to void her body’s waste had also been provided.

Since July could still move freely within her confined space, July made sure to spend as much time pacing the room as she could. It gave her a sense of forward motion; and it kept her feeling fresh physically. None of her muscles were wasting away, or becoming sore in their lack of use. To the contrary; July might even have been using them more than her pre-captivity days. She hadn’t used to walk so constantly and for so long. Now, whenever she started to feel herself slipping into despair, she stood, and she walked quickly around the room until she was only aware of the movement of her body.

It took a very long time, sometimes. Often her legs began aching before her mind had fallen quiet— but she would force herself through it. The peace that came at last when her awareness was only physical and not mental was worth it, and she chased it like a drug.

Between the constant drip of sustenance and fluids, and her frequent walks around her little space, July’s body was in fine shape; it was her mind that was atrophying. Though she chased the peace that came from moving her body, and though she moved through the blind darkness like a duck through water, she could still feel the places where her mind was wasting away.

When she did think, it was disorganized. She couldn’t keep her thoughts on one track for any length of time, no matter how determined she was. Somewhere between the constant silencing of her thoughts through motion, and their return in her stillness, they changed form from words to feelings. She did not think in despair; only felt it, and then felt it recede if she stood and ran away from it in circles around her cell.

Apart from returning feelings about her ongoing situation, there wasn’t room for much else in her head. When July cared enough to check, she found that her memories of her life before were fading into paler and paler grays. She didn’t do much to try and cling to them. When they were still in their vibrancy, they made her feelings of despondency worse— a reminder of what she had lost, and and what was behind her forever, now.

The one thing that did stick in her head was the conversation the woman had with her through the speakers. At the time July hadn’t understood how a slave could be made— but she understood now. What was happening to her was the way to do it; only one of three the woman was currently trying, but as far as July was concerned, it was the most effective. If some path to slavery had been offered to her, she would have immediately accepted it. The path to slavery would have been a path out of the darkness, out of the silence, into the light, and there was nothing in the world that could have convinced her to refuse it.

But no offer came.

She was left with her void to keep her company.

At last, after unknowable steams of time, the woman spoke once more into her room. It felt like a miracle when it happened; and it came so unexpectedly. July was in her void, the same as always, not quite sure anymore if she were walking or sitting. All was silent one moment, and then in the next second, with no warning, no fanfare— suddenly, the woman was speaking.

“How are you doing, July?”

July almost didn’t recognize the sound of her name; she couldn’t find her way to formulating words.

“If you were curious, the other two girls I captured at the same time as you have already given into me. They’re with me right now. How about you? Are you any closer? Do you think you could make a guess now, as to what strategy I was using for you?”

July wanted to burst into tears. There was so much she needed to say, if only she could how to find the words. She clung to her determination. She would — she would speak, while this portal was open to her, before it closed and left her alone again.

“I… please, I don’t know how…”

It became easier to speak the longer she did it. Though her voice was a little raspy for lack of use.

“I’ll become your slave right now if you tell me how to do it. But I don’t know… I don’t know…”

The tears came at last.

“You know better than you think you do,” the woman countered. “When you felt your mind slipping, you gave it something to do to keep it at least a little active; distracted it with physical motion. That’s all obedience is, really. A constant dance woven through your thoughts that keeps your mind moving forward. You can taste that peace all the time. Your mind never has to still and leave you alone with all those things you were trying to outpace.”

“But I don’t— I don’t know how—“

“There’s only one thing I need to know,” the woman went on. “Are you ready to come to me, and let me show you how to do it? Or do you need some more wearing down time?”

“No!” July shouted. She couldn’t stand the thought of falling back into that emptiness again. “I’m ready— please bring me out of here, please, please!”

July was begging with a desperation she had never felt before. But her begging was answered by the opening of a door, right next to the tinted window.

In the hall outside, there was light; July stumbled to her feet and chased it into the hall. She was chasing other things too: the promise of continuing forward motion, the peace it brought to her mind; the promise that this could now be permanent. Her own slavery, because it could bring her all the rest of these things.

In the hall, there was a woman standing and waiting for her. She knew without hearing the woman’s voice that it was her. The one to whom she belonged.

“Come, slave. There’s much for us to do.”

July went, following the woman down the hall. She had been given an order— her mind was already dancing the eternal dance of continuing momentum forward, continuing movement away, and it was giving her that drug-like feeling of peace.

She revelled in the dancing; she followed, just as she had been told to.