The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Bernard

I stood in the old MRI room, watching Dr. Elodie Thorne’s face through the opening of the machine. The cute petite woman was trying to maintain a neutral expression, but I could see the devotion in her brown eyes, that beautiful, programmed devotion. The scanner hummed around her, capturing every neural flicker as she gazed at me. Behind the glass partition, Kaori Dressen’s fingers moved efficiently over the controls, her own expression one of focused concentration.

“Perfect,” Ramona’s voice came through the speakers, precise and clinical. “We now have Dr. Thorne’s brain activity patterns when looking at you, specifically inferior temporal cortex, the part that deals with facial recognition. We’ll translate these into the matrix decoder’s programming language.” There was a brief pause. “Dr. Smith, could you please speak? We need to capture the voice recognition patterns as well. Say your name clearly.”

I suppressed a sigh of impatience. The technical necessities were tedious, but essential to my plan. “I am Bernard Smith, your master” I said clearly, then added, “Is that sufficient?”

“Yes,” Phoebe’s voice replied. “We’re incorporating the patterns of your face, voice, and name into the program. Once deployed, all women on Earth will instinctively recognize you as their owner through these combined identifiers. By default, they’ll know they’re owned by someone they haven’t met yet, unless they already know you. When they see you and hear your voice, your name, it will trigger immediate recognition. We’ve designed it so that at least two identifiers must be confirmed before the recognition activates, preventing misidentification.”

I nodded, considering the implications. “I’m concerned about imposters. Someone could claim to be me.”

“We’ve accounted for that,” Ramona responded. “The program includes a natural suspicion instinct. Women will require a certain threshold of confidence before submitting to anyone claiming to be Bernard Smith. But yes, there’s no perfect solution given our constraints. Though if a woman is tricked into thinking she’s obeying you, receiving more trustworthy orders would override the previous ones.”

The MRI slowed its rhythmic pulsing, and Elodie was told she could exit. I extended my hand to help her out, calculating the perfect moment to assert my control. As she stood, I placed my hand on her shoulder and casually pushed her down to her knees, her ponytail bobbing as she descended. She smirked up at me, understanding immediately what I wanted. Her hands moved to my belt, unfastening it with practiced efficiency.

“When will the program be ready?” I asked, maintaining my composure as Elodie took me into her mouth.

“It should be relatively quick,” Phoebe explained. “We’ve cleared the original program last night to make room for the new changes. Now we’re essentially modifying it, replacing the universal claiming process with the specific identifiers we just scanned. Thanks to the decoder, it will translate properly for each individual neural matrix, making you the default and only owner for all women worldwide.” She continued her technical explanation as Elodie worked diligently, her tongue demonstrating remarkable skill. “There will be exceptions like Charlotte Corbin, whose brain didn’t develop a proper matrix after infection, but we’re talking about a statistically insignificant percentage who were already immune to the original programming.”

I placed my hand on the back of Elodie’s head, guiding her movements as Phoebe continued. “Creating the modified program will take just a few hours, but compilation cannot be accelerated beyond certain parameters. That process will require additional time.”

“The program will be ready to deploy tonight,” Ramona concluded.

I smiled, feeling both the pleasure of Dr. Thorne’s mouth and the imminent success of my plan. I pushed deeper, watching her adjust without complaint. “Contact Norway immediately. Make sure they’re prepared to transmit.” The thought of Charlotte and her pathetic band of escapees trying to stop me was almost amusing. They simply didn’t have enough time, nowhere to go. By tomorrow morning, every woman on the planet would be mine.

“Sir?” Ramona’s voice interrupted my thoughts, carrying a note of hesitation. Whatever she meant to say wasn’t easy for her. “What should we program in case of your... death?”

I froze, my grip tightening in Elodie’s hair. She looked up at me, her expression questioning, even concerned. I forced a slow exhale before smirking. “Après moi le déluge,” I said with a chuckle.

“Sir?” Ramona asked, confused.

“It’s a French saying from Louis XV,” I explained. “It translates to ‘after me, the deluge’—as in, if I’m gone, let the world drown in chaos.”

A moment of silence followed as the women considered my words. “So...” Phoebe said, her tone cautious, “what would that entail exactly?”

“People are not going to be happy with what I’ve done,” I admitted, my voice tight. “With the control I’ve seized over the world’s women. Some may seek to... remove me from this picture. So, for now, I need to make sure my death is not in anyone’s best interest.”

Elodie continued to pleasure me, my grip on her hair firm as I spoke. “I need to make sure that if I’m gone, every woman on the planet goes with me.”

“Brain damage?” Ramona suggested.

“Doable?” I asked.

“Much easier than what we’re doing,” Phoebe explained, her tone playful. “We’ve been struggling not to cause damage. A few inserted nonsense triggered by learning about your death, we modify the unclaiming sequence and boom, scrambled eggs.”

I laughed at how casual Phoebe made it sound. “Perfect, let’s do that, then.”

“If I may,” Ramona’s voice interrupted, “we’re talking about billions of women here. Most of them will never even get in direct contact with you, realistically. How would they hear about your... death?”

I chuckled, my fingers loosening their grip on Elodie’s ponytail. “How about triggering it if they don’t have evidence of me being alive for long enough? If they are too far away to serve me, then I don’t care much about them anyway. Knowing they need to hear from me might also compel men to protect me, to keep me safe, to stay in touch, wherever they are. I’ll reward them if they do. They’ll lose the women they love if they don’t.”

“There’s actually a similar sequence we’ve identified as being part of the unclaiming process,” Phoebe pointed out. “If a woman looses all contacts with her owner for a long period of time and suspects he may be dead, she’s unclaimed. It would be easy to tie that to what you suggested, sir.”

“Then you know what to do,” I said, nodding in satisfaction. “And once it’s done, we’ll make sure as many people as possible know about my new status, and what would happen if they try to... remove me. It’ll be the ultimate deterrent to anyone who thinks they can stop me.”

As I reached climax, filling Elodie’s mouth with my release, Ramona and Phoebe acknowledged my instructions with enthusiasm. “Yes, Dr. Smith,” they chorused, their voices carrying the same devoted tone that all my women shared. Soon, it would be the only tone I would ever hear from a woman again, and the world would me mine.