The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

(Charleston, West Virginia. Now.)

James Bowden presses the head of his cock against His Beloved pussy lips. Soon she will be his Annette once more. Ready to offer him a second chance.

The familiar sensation—familiar when it is running down his arms to his fingertips, less so when it is shorted through his genitals—runs the length of his cock and the tip tingles in a way that makes him want to pull back and rub it raw. But he does not move, savoring the moment for what it is, seeing His Beloved’s face grow blank.

His cock dips into her pussy, without actually entering it. She is still a virgin, and will remain so until the end of the Ceremony. Whereupon he shall invest her and make her His. He shivers at the thought.

His Beloved’s eyes are on him now. She has stopped struggling. She is waiting. Waiting for his instructions.

“Annette,” he tells her, “I am your Lord, your Savior. I am the Light that illuminates your life and reveals the Truth.” He does not want her to be a Servant. Not like the others, at least.

He nods to Shelley, who rips off the piece of tape that seals His Beloved’s mouth shut and pulls out the cloth that gags her.

His Beloved looks back at him with devotion in her eyes. “You are my Lord—you are my Light.”

He closes his eyes, and sighs. It is like a weight lifted from his shoulders.

“I am your World, the Be All and End All of your Existence, my Love.”

“You are my World, my Lord.”

He savors her response. Suddenly, he is no longer in any rush.

He reaches down to untie the ropes at His Beloved’s feet, trying hard not to get distracted by the splayed legs of his soon-to-be bride, looking delicious in her white stockings, and her dress cut open to her waist. Her chest, which was heaving until he converted her to His Cause, is now rising softly, and the tight corset of her dress suggests a chest that he is craving to explore. Annette had such magnificent breasts, with hard nipples that he loved to suckle on, he remembers. He is certain that has not changed.

Both Shelley and His Beloved are looking at him, Shelley with an imploring hungry look—that he has not seen fit to fill her cunt with his shaft for the past three weeks is undoubtedly driving her crazy with lust—and His Beloved with a quiet expectation that is arousing him further. He restrains his urge to push his shaft inside her expectant body. Especially since she is now shifting her hips slowly, gently massaging his cock, and trying to get him to press harder and penetrate her.

He nods to Shelley. “Continue with the Ceremony, pet.”

“Do you, Annette O’Hara—” and Shelley lifts her head to look at him, as if to confirm the name, and he feels the urge to slap her, slap her hard, the stupid little brainless slut. How dare she question him? She will be punished, he decides. He will need to question her to find the specific punishment that will degrade her the most—she will have no choice but to tell him.

He restrains his anger. He is Magnanimous. He nods to her.

“Do you, Annette O’Hara,” Shelley repeats, “take our Lord to be your consecrated wedded husband, promising to love and cherish, through joy and sorrow, and to worship him in all of his exalted glory, and to offer him your body, your mind, your soul, for his pleasure and his use, for as long as you both shall live?”

This is the one moment that he was uncertain about—whether His Beloved would respond to Shelley, or whether he would have to make the request himself. He wanted the script to be just right.

But His Beloved seems to recognize Shelley’s authority as a speaker for her Lord, and her eyes in his eyes, eyes filled with love and now longing, she responds, “I do, my Lord.”

He feels himself shiver from head to toe. He closes his eyes again, enjoying the moment, the second time he marries His Beloved.

“By the power vested in me by our Lord, I hereby pronounce you husband and wife,” finishes Shelley, with a flourish. She looked up at him, a look of envy on her face. “You may deflower the bride, my Lord.”

He does not deign answer, all of his attention is concentrated on the woman beneath him, who is now thrusting her hips upwards to get him to sink his cock inside her. “Please, my Lord—my Love—fuck me! Make me yours!”

“Untie her wrists, pet,” he tells Shelley. He then leans down over his Bride, sees the lust in her eyes, the desire to Please him, as she just vowed. He has trouble containing his excitement.

“Annette,” he tells her. “You are now your Lord’s Bride. You are a Queen. A Lady. The Concubine of a God. I am your Master, your Lord. My Pleasure is your Pleasure, my Will is your Will, my Life is your Life.”

“Yes, my Lord,” His Beloved responds, her voice trembling.

“You will ask for nothing more from life than to quench my every Desire, grant my every Wish, fulfill my every Fantasy.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Her voice trembles more, and her body starts to shake. Shelley having freed her arms, she wraps them around his neck, and pulls him in for a kiss, her breath short.

“You are mine, Annette O’Hara, mine—Mind, Body, and Soul! Mine! MINE!”

Just as His Beloved’s lips make contact with his, as her tongue seeks to sneak into his mouth, as her hands clench over his back, he presses his cock inside the impossibly tight virgin canal, and pushes hard, and breaks through.

The scream from His Beloved gets lost in his mouth, and he drinks from that scream as from the rest of the kiss, and when his cock is fully embedded inside his Bride, he remains there, savoring the tightness, the warmth, the spasms that engulf him.

His Beloved is clutching him tight, her body a live wire, her thighs pressed against his sides. She kisses him like a mad woman, while at the same time shifting her hips to get him to move and continue fucking her.

He obliges, pulling out slowly and pushing in again once all of his cock but its head is out of her body.

His cock fully inside her, he stops, and looks at her, really looks at her. He sees them both, the Annette that was, and the Annette that is. He remembers the Annette that was, remembers her like it was yesterday. He remembers how she was, but mostly remembers how he wanted her to be—always ready, ready for sex, for pleasure, for joy. He wanted her teasing and playful and uninhibited, but also warm and loving and devoted.

The Annette that was shined on the latter but not the former. She was never very sexual, and he had always suspected a story of past abuse, possibly from her first husband, Lizzie’s father. She never wanted to talk of it, or talk of him either, and somehow, he always thought that one reason that Annette let herself fall in love with him was because he was, in a physical sense, inoffensive: not only could he not use his legs, but he had no ability for intercourse, and did not get physically aroused. He did not mind—he was happy that he could be what Annette needed him to be at the time.

Underneath him, the Annette that is, his Beloved, his Bride, is squirming and moaning, wanting him to start moving again, to start fucking her.

Shelley leans over her friend, caressing her face, and kissing her upside down on the lips. Her hands wander over His Beloved’s breasts, grasping them roughly. “You like that, sweetie? A nice big fat cock in your cunt for the first time? Told you you’d love it, you’d go crazy for it. You’re such a lucky little slut,” she adds, sounding envious.

He watches and listens. He slowly pulls out of His Beloved’s pussy, and thrusts in, harder this time, eliciting a “Oh!” of surprise and lust from the redhead, and a “Fuck yes!” from his pet standing over her.

And so he remembers the Annette that was, but it is the Annette that is which is right there beneath him, overwhelmed by the feelings of being penetrated by a male shaft for the first time in her life, and he has a chance to do something different, to be something different, to give her something different. He has a chance to erase all of her pains and all of her fears and obliterate her miserable memories. He has a chance to finally set right what was wrong, to allow the seed to desire to flower in her heart. For he is a God now, and he can correct that mistakes of the Past.

“Annette,” he tells her, as he increases the tempo of his fucking, much to the redhead’s delight. “Listen to your Lord.” She looks into his eyes, squinting a little every time he thrusts inside her, with Shelley hovering close to her, kissing the side of the redhead’s face, and playing with her breasts.

“From now on,” he continues, with His Beloved’s full attention on him, “I want you to enjoy—no, relish—Sex. I want you to be Playful, Teasing, Uninhibited.” He thrusts into her, hard.

“You are a Sexual Creature, my Sexual Creature, and nothing is out of bound—Sex is Pleasure, Sex is Joy, Sex is Light.” He thrusts into her again, harder, and she moans in response.

“I want you proud of your body, willing and happy to show it, for your Pleasure and the Pleasure of anyone around you who might be looking at you.” He thrusts harder still, and she clenches around him, her mouth seeking his. He feels the tell-tale signs of orgasm build up in his balls, and he is losing control of his hips.

“I want you to enjoy making men and women desire you, lust for you. You will get turned on by having them be turned on, you will be the ultimate Tease.” Images of her dressed in a see-through gown and dancing while crowds of admirers worship her makes him thrust faster, in and out, much to His Beloved’s delight, as she is cooing and ooohing and aaahing and hanging on to him with her nails firmly dug into his back.

“You will not give in to the urges of the flesh, although you will tolerate touching and kissing, but you will not satisfy other people’s lust unless I, your Lord, say otherwise. For you are mine, Annette—MINE!”

With a deep thrust and a shout he presses into her, bruising his pubic bone in the process, and explodes inside her, and she clenches and shakes and comes as he does, his pleasure overwhelming her senses and sending her over the edge.

He spews his load, his precious Semen, all the way into her womb, and he rejoices at the thought of inseminating her, to make her the Mother of his Progeny, his Heirs. He feels each and every jet splash inside her, and it seems she does too, for she groans in time with his spasms.

Shelley caresses her friend’s face and kisses her hard and deep as His Beloved recovers. “That looked so fucking good, sweetie. Did you like coming from a big fat cock up your little tight virgin snatch?”

Without letting His Beloved answer her, Shelley grabs the redhead by the hair and tilts her head back and kisses her violently, while one of her hands shoots down to squeeze one of His Beloved’s breast hard enough to make it blanch.

He watches, a frown deepening on his face. “Pet!” he shouts, his hips still pressing against His Beloved, keeping his pill-enhanced cock pushed inside her pussy.

Shelley pulls up abruptly, a look of frightened incomprehension on her face. “My... my Lord? Do... do you want to fuck me now?”

He takes a deep breath to calm himself down. Shelley is looking at him with a look that dreads his punishment, and she does well to dread it, for he is not happy. How dare she treat his Concubine in such a demeaning way? And how dare His Beloved allow herself to be treated this way?

He kneels back on the bed—His Beloved mewls in dismay as his cock slips out from between her thighs—and looks at the two women, the frightened blonde and the satisfied redhead, and thinks back of their interactions, those he has just seen, those he has seen in the past, those that His Beloved herself reported to him.

And then, it hits him. Of course. His Annette, his newly found Annette, the Annette that is, naturally fell under the spell of her friend Shelley, who has a more assertive personality, and in the sexual realm, this assertiveness intensifies into actual domination, with the more mellow and easy-going woman as a matter of course shifts into a more submissive role.

And then he smiles. And Shelley sees the smile and her apprehension turns to fear. As well it should, he thinks.

“Annette,” he tells His Beloved, who is running one of her hands on her breasts, and the other between her pussy lips, spreading the semen that has started to leak out between her thighs. “From now on, you will be aroused by sexually dominating your friend Shelley, whom you will treat as your pet. Whatever you used to feel when she was making you do things, you will feel by forcing her to do those things herself. Do you understand?”

His Beloved looks up to her friend, smiling a smile that promises the blonde that she would not be treated kindly. “Oh but I do, my Lord. I will put the little bitch through her paces...” She grabbed Shelley’s short hair and twisted her head to the side, pulling her down to nibble hard on her ear.

“As for you, pet,” he tells the now whimpering blonde, “Annette here is now your Lady, and you will obey her like you obey your Lord, do her bidding like you do your Lord’s, crawl at her feet like you crawl at your Lord’s. Pleasing your Lady is now your second goal in life, after pleasing your Lord.”

“Yes... yes, my Lord.”

His Beloved twists Shelley’s head again and kisses her hard on the mouth, paying back the aggressiveness that Shelley has shown earlier. “I’m going to have a lot of fun with you, my little bitch,” she said, after pulling out of the kiss. “But now I want you to get down between my legs and suck your Lord’s cum out of my pussy and clean me out and get me ready for him to fuck me again. Oh, and shake your ass in his face when you do that, too, so that maybe he’ll be tempted to play with that little hole of yours.”

Shelley’s face looks hopeful for a second, looking from her Lady to her Lord and back. “And... and my Lord is going to fuck me?”

“You’re going to have to be a very good little bitch if my Lord is going to fuck that slutty little cunt of yours. Now get licking.”

He moves back to let the blonde slide down between the His Beloved’s legs and start dutifully licking the mess he had left there. He grins when he sees her raise her ass and sway it in front of his face, her butt plug sticking out of her rectum and begging him to play with it.

“Come on, you little bitch,” His Beloved encourages her friend, “get your tongue in deeper—oh, that’s it, just like that...” She squirms, and sinks deeper into the bed, tilting her hips up to ease the blonde’s access.

His cock throbbing before him, he reaches out to grasp the blonde’s butt plug between his fingers and gives it a twist, eliciting a muffled moan from the licking blonde. He is rewarded by a squeal of satisfaction from His Beloved.

He closes his eyes, submerged by Gratitude at having been offered a second chance at Love.

“There!” Hermann exclaimed from the back seat, his arm reaching out between Daniel and Shawbank and pointing towards a car parked in front of the Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church. “That’s Lizzie’s car!”

Shawbank pulled up behind the vehicle, and before the car was stopped Hermann had jumped out and was running towards the entrance of the church.

Daniel looked from the man to Shawbank. “Do we let him go in just like that?”

“Decoy,” she answered.

She walked up to the side door that Hermann had managed to find that had been left unlocked, and pulled out her knife from the sheath in her jacket.

Daniel eyed it with equal parts weariness and fascination.

“Wouldn’t a gun be more effective?”

Shawbank shrugged, and again a hint of a smile ghosted her lips. “Other agents have guns. I find Magenta more... precise.”

Magenta?

Before Daniel could ask further questions, they were inside the church, which was mostly dark. The windows had been boarded up once the stained glass was removed, Daniel guessed.

Shawbank followed the retreating footsteps of Hermann, who seemed to know where he was going. If this church had some emotional connection for his fiancée—her mother had gotten married here, and Hermann had said that Annette Bowden, in her last year, had frequented this church assiduously—it made sense that he would know where Elizabeth might be. The old chapel, he had said.

In the distance, there was a flickering glow, suggestive of candlelight.

“How are we going to play this?” Daniel asked Shawbank.

“Leave the Special to me. You deal with whomever is there that needs dealing with.”

“I don’t have any weapons.”

“Well, that was stupid, wasn’t it?” Shawbank snapped.

That first display of real emotion betrayed her tension.

Daniel looked around and grabbed and hefted what looked like an old standing candelabra. It was clumsy, but it could serve to keep someone at bay. Unless they have a semi-automatic, he reflected glumly.

“Lizzie! Oh my God!”

Shawbank and Daniel hurried towards the sound of Hermann’s distressed shout. They made the corner to the chapel and first spotted Hermann, frozen in place, eyes wide, a look of utter disbelief stamped upon his face.

In front of them, on a bed illuminated by several candles, they could see Bowden, his old body kneeling behind his stepdaughter Elizabeth, fucking her roughly from behind. The redhead was clad in only a white corset and the ripped remnants of a wedding dress. Underneath Elizabeth a thin athletic blonde was busily licking the redhead’s slit, once in a while giving a long lick to the balls of the old man slamming into her friend’s pussy.

Bowden, whose expression was almost as startled as Hermann’s, looked to the new arrivals, and panicked. He pulled out of Elizabeth with a jerk, the redhead letting out a shout of frustration at finding herself so abruptly empty.

Bowden jumped off the bed, his cock bouncing incongruously in front of him. His legs looked incredibly frail compared to his well-developed upper body.

“Stop them,” he shouted at Elizabeth and Shelley. “STOP THEM!”

Quickly, without attempting to cover themselves up, the two young woman jumped off the bed and ran towards the trio.

Shawbank gave Daniel a sharp glance, and then looked at Bowden and her eyes never left him as she made for the wall to avoid the incoming girls. She was going for the Special, leaving Elizabeth and what Daniel guessed was her friend Shelley to the two men. Hermann, his arms spread wide and shouting “Lizzie!”, ran towards Elizabeth who went straight for him. Daniel wanted to warn him, but was prevented by the blonde with the athletic body that was coming at him quickly with powerful strides.

In the few seconds he had to take in the woman, Daniel saw resolve in Shelley’s face, harsh and unrelenting resolve. He remembered what Shawbank had told him—that affected women could fight to the death. He steadied himself for the onslaught, unconsciously putting himself into one of the defensive position that had been drilled into him over his summer training.

Shelley never slowed down, jumping on him with a shout and bared teeth. He did not know what she intended to do with those, and did not care to find out. He grabbed her arms and brought her down with him, using her own momentum to flip her over his head. It was one of the moves they had practiced during self-defense training over the summer, and he was surprised at how effective it was. That Shelley made no attempt at defense and attacked him all out probably had something to do with it.

Shelley hit the ground hard with a blow that winded her. Daniel came behind her and grabbed her arms in a lock and pinned her to the ground. She struggled, her legs trying to kick him despite her impossible position. He slipped a zip tie over her wrists and pulled it tight.

“Aaarghhh!!!” came the cry of pain from Hermann from his left. Daniel stole a glance in that direction. Hermann was on his back, and Elizabeth was straddling him, and he was trying to hold her wrists, and Daniel saw with horror that Elizabeth had managed to drive one of her fingers deep into one of Hermann’s eyes, which was now closed but was leaking a disgusting soup of blood and a viscous fluid. Hermann was wriggling in pain, and was trying hard to keep Elizabeth from going for his other eye. Elizabeth, naked but for a half-corset that exposed her breasts, was foaming at the mouth, a look of rage on her face, and she was shouting incoherently, screams where “my Lord” and “hurt” and “love” and “die” kept coming over and over again as she struggled to finish the job of blinding her fiancé, or ripping his throat out.

“Aaaarghh!” came another shout of pain, this time from behind Daniel, and everyone—except possible Hermann—turned to look and stare and see that Shawbank had driven her knife into Bowden’s left shoulder and had pinned him to the wall. The man wriggled like a worm caught at the end of a hook, and Shawbank’s eyes reflected nothing but candlelight as she twisted the knife and elicited another scream of pain and rage from the old man.

“How... How dare you!” he spat out, between cries of pain. “I’m a God, you bitch! You roach! You—”

He never finished his diatribe. Shawbank drove a punch into his gut that would have doubled him over if not for his shoulder being impaled, and finished him off with a blow to the jaw that knocked him out. He collapsed like a limp rag, supported only by the knife in his shoulder. Shawbank pulled an injector out of her pocket and pressed it against the man’s neck. It made a soft swishing sound.

Shelley and Elizabeth quieted their struggles and looked at Bowden’s unmoving form with concern and confusion. Daniel had Shelley well in hand, and Hermann took advantage of the pause to toss Elizabeth from him and push back and grab his wounded eye and wail in pain and confusion. “Lizzie?” he choked, as Elizabeth looked from Shelley to Bowden and back.

Shawbank went to her and injected her with whatever she had injected to Bowden. Elizabeth soon went limp. She then turned to Shelley, who had stopped struggling underneath Daniel, and did the same to the blonde.

Daniel approached Hermann, who was curled up against a wall. “You okay?” Daniel asked him.

“What... what happened to her? She just... just attacked me. Attacked. And he was... oh God! They were fucking! And she just... she was crazed...” Hermann sobbed again, and Daniel, not knowing what to do, just grabbed his shoulder and hugged him.

“We have to get you to an emergency for that eye,” Daniel said, finally.

Shawbank, meanwhile, was on her earpiece, contacting Brisecoeur, talking about sending in a recovery team that had been on standby since Shawbank had contacted him from the car earlier. She glanced in Daniel’s direction, then added that having a medical team on hand as well would be helpful.

She looked towards the two men. “Help is on the way,” she said.

She then went back to Bowden, and pulled out the knife from his shoulder. He folded onto the floor.

As Shawbank took a step towards the back of the chapel, Daniel caught up with her. Shawbank spoke without looking at him, sheathing her knife after wiping it off on a piece of cloth that Daniel recognized as the skirt of a wedding dress. “We’ll have the Special taken away, and have Hermann’s injury looked after. We’ll drop him off to an emergency room along the way.”

“What about the girls?”

“What about them?”

“Are we just going to leave them here?”

“What do you want to do with them?” Her tone had a question in it, one that Daniel did not particularly care for. What was she saying?

“I don’t know. I mean, we should help them...”

“How?”

“I don’t know...”

“No you don’t. And there’s nothing we can do for them. In about an hour or so, they’ll wake up. Maybe they’ll go back to their life, and this will just be an episode that they’ll forget about. Maybe they won’t. It all depends on what the Special did to them, what sort of instructions he gave them.”

“And that’s it?”

“That’s it. Our concern was the Special. Get him out of circulation, keep him from doing more damage. We’ve done that. We’re done.”

“But...” Daniel was scrambling. He stared at Elizabeth and Shelley, unconscious on the ground, and then to Hermann, holding a piece of cloth on his injured eye, cradling his knees. “Maybe we can get Bowden to fix them?”

Shawbank shook her head. “No. He doesn’t wake up. That’s the rule. He’s unconscious now, and he will stay that way. Once they’re down, they stay down. It’s too dangerous otherwise.”

“But he can help them!”

“Or make them worse. What if he wakes up and tells them to kill themselves? Or mutilate themselves? Or go on a rampage? You can’t reason with Specials, Malcolm, not when they’ve reached the stage this one obviously did. You can’t reason with them, and you can’t control them. All you can do is put them down, like rabid dogs.”

“But we have to help them!” Daniel still felt there was something to be done.

“How?”

“I don’t know.”

“They’re victims, Malcolm.” There was bitterness and hatred in her voice. “They got caught. Too bad for them.”

Daniel felt that this was a topic not to pursue.

“I’ll go wait for the retrieval team. Keep an eye on Hermann.” Shawbank left the chapel without looking back.

Daniel stared at the two women unconscious on the floor. Hermann was sobbing softly in the corner.