The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Martine had trained me by explaining things, waiting patiently through my questions, giving examples, showing me, and then if necessary, touching my mind to actually demonstrate. Loris was not like Martine. Loris didn’t teach, per-se. One survived Loris, or didn’t.

On the 20th, Martine returned to town, and Marco and I were alone for the first time with Loris. Martine hadn’t raised any fuss at all about Loris, my training, his motivations, nothing. I knew that she’d been enthralled by him. His power was nothing short of incredible.

He didn’t say much that day. He set me some exercises to do, getting prairie dogs or whatever they were, to come up out of their holes, send Marco to them, have Marco pick them up by the scruff of the neck, bring them to me unharmed, and then release them.

It was tedious, and I had to deal with more than one mind at once. By late afternoon I was exhausted and frustrated. I turned to go back into the trailer, to tell Loris I was done with this, when he attacked.

Blinding, killing pain bloomed behind my eyes, my vision went white, and I could feel myself hit the ground.

“I’m not stopping this until you’re dead, so you had better make it stop.” he said directly into my mind. There was no malevolence there, but he wasn’t harboring any regrets either. The pain was overwhelming, I had no time to think, to plan, to do anything. I could feel my power flailing around blindly, seeking for something to attack. There was nothing there. His power was invisible.

Down inside I was screaming, and part of me somewhere was already ready to give up. Just as I was getting hopeless about it, Loris increased the level of pain geometrically. I lost all sense of the external world. The only think that lived for me was this crushing white snake of blinding, killing power that had me in its grip. Every moment was an eternity of torment. I lost all sense of trying to do anything with my power at all, and tried to just survive it.

“Not good enough,” he said, and the pain amplified again. There was nothing left now, nothing left but the pain. It tore through me like sheet lightning. It was so horrible, so overwhelming, it became all that there was.

And, miraculously, once the pain became all that there was in the universe, once I had embraced it as the natural order of existence, it just faded away.

“Good start, lean into it,” he said to me.

I looked around. I was laying on my back in Loris’s front patch of dirt. I was soiled from rolling around in the dirt, and I’d wet myself. Marco stood over me, barking and snapping, trying to find something to kill.

From the looks of it, only moments had passed. I got cleaned up, and Loris made scrambled calf brains and eggs on toast for dinner. He ate, not looking at me. The only thing he said that evening to me was this.

“Move, Jeopardy is coming on next.”

The next day wasn’t pain, it was anger. One moment I was trying to get three of the squirrel things to walk one after another, working on controlling all three at once, and the next, this overwhelming rage tore through me. I started screaming incoherently at Marco for not staying far away enough from the squirrels, and began looking for a stick to beat him with. Part of me knew I was breaking my promise to him, and that made me madder yet. It was that damned dog’s fault in the first place for making me feel sorry for it.

“Fool.”

The rage amped up again, anger pouring through me like fire. I began pounding my hands into the side of the trailer, trying to get to Loris. I wanted to tear the skin off his face, hit him again and again, endlessly.

“Idiot, learn from this. You’ll go into cardiac arrest soon.”

The rage became vastly stronger, tearing through me. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, the blood rushing in my ears. Then somehow I knew that I had to embrace this rage, make it mine like I had the pain.

I saw the front of my mother’s home blowing outward in a rain of beige stucco, chicken wire, twisted stumps of wood and flying, burning insulation. Inside I saw the fire caress the flesh I had loved, all in slow motion. I saw my family burn and die.

The rage washed through me, I owned it, made it mine, tucked it away in a corner of my heart for future use. I stood up and looked around, I needed to apologize to Marco.

And so it went. I learned to deflect emotions. That was his lesson. And it was my first lesson. He took me through pain, rage, sadness, guilt, embarrassment, the whole range of emotions that could be used to cripple me, stop me. I learned to own them, let them pass through me without eating my soul or mind.

The next lesson was equally fun. One day, when I was working on training nine prairie dogs to stand on their hind legs and wave at me, Loris walked out of the trailer. He carried a two by two piece of pine board in his hand.

“I’m gonna hit you with this. Your job is to focus on keeping your sense of perception inside that dog of yours. If you lose concentration for even a moment, I’ll knock you the fuck out.”

I looked at him in bewilderment. He threw his left elbow out to the side and that hunk of wood slammed up against my head so hard I went to my knees.

I knew that if I went after him, he’d kill me, so I tried to reach out for Marco. Loris never said what I could do with Marco though. So, once I was in Marco’s head, we went for Loris full bore. Marco ran across the yard in full attack, and..

Wham across my back... I was laying in the yard, rolling to my feet, going for Marco’s mind, getting in, turning the dog toward Loris, speeding up for the...

WHAM across my shins... face down in the dirt, throwing myself headlong into Marco’s mind, making a huge leap into his canine flesh, as WHAM I turned to Loris and WHAM leapt for his throat as WHAM I jumped over the body of my master and my jaw opened and WHAM Loris jumped to the side and

I pulled myself out of Marco and got up and looked at Loris. Marco was at his feet panting, then running to me, licking my hands. Loris looked at me.

“You’re good with animals. Use that,” he turned and walked inside.

First, days went by, then weeks. From time to time I’d spend a day in Reno with the women, but mostly I worked with Loris and trained with him. I knew I was making progress.

Loris trained me to fight. He trained me to fight dirty, to fight to win, and to use people’s weaknesses. He trained me to survive. I hated him almost as much as I hated anyone, but at least I knew I was getting something I wanted from him.

By late August, I was able to control multiple minds at once, I was able to ignore physical damage or sensation, my mind was vastly stronger than before, and I was able to manifest other, lesser telepathic talents to a minor degree. I guess I had started to feel cocky.

There was a sound of thunder. Pain shot through me. I woke up to Loris standing over me.

“You’re getting good. I just shot you in the guts with this gun of yours. Its a nice gun... I’ll leave it here for you. You’ve got a couple of hours before you die. Heal yourself. When you’re done, get in the jeep and find me. By the way... you need to learn to sleep with a ward set.” He laughed at me. Moments later I heard the sounds of a car pulling out, the radio blasting out ‘Mexican Radio’ by Wall of Voodoo.

He left me to die in the trailer. But it was way too late for that. Loris may have been brutally effective in teaching someone to fight, but Martine was a master at training me in technique.

Sure, I bled in the trailer. Sure, I could have died, but I knew I wouldn’t. I closed my eyes, reached into my gut shot abdomen with my right hand, ignoring the pain completely, and fished around for the bullet. I was relieved when I realized that it had gone completely through me.

One kidney was a ruined mess, and my stomach was a wreck, but it could have been worse, he could have made me repair my spine. Maybe he didn’t know I could do that.

For the next hour I patiently coaxed my body to heal itself, accelerating healing here, coaxing growth there, sending new life into tissue over there.

Sometime around midnight I was able to roll off the bunk and crash to the floor near the door. By twelve thirty, I was crawling out the door and falling down the steps. By twelve forty five, I was on my feet and tenderly making my way to Loris’s old beat up Jeep.

I could sense Reno alive around me like a million points of light and pleasure, winking and dancing like fireflies as I drove into town. Loris was there.

I found Loris by looking for where he wasn’t, finding the void of his power. It didn’t take that long. I wondered how I ever could have missed someone so powerful before. It seemed stupid. He could have tried harder to hide, but he wanted me to find him, so I did.

The night lived around me, throbbing with power, as I pulled into the gravel paved lot in front of an nasty looking dive bar. A motley assortment of modified motorcycles were lined up out front, and Iron Maiden, of all the trite possibilities, came blasting out of the recently repaired door and frame.

I must have been a sight as I walked into that bar, cause conversation stopped. Around me were probably thirty or forty mostly drunk looking hard cases. The environment seemed to call forth wall to wall beards, dirty leather vests, torn Levis’ and bad teeth.

At the far end of the bar, in a battered looking booth sat Loris, Natalie, and Martine, drinking and talking. I walked up. Around me conversation hesitantly restarted, and the bartender yelled over to ask if I needed an ambulance. I looked down to see myself covered in crusty, drying blood over sweat pants and nothing else. People laughed when I replied.

“The only thing I need is a beer.” I’d just won some points.

Loris looked up as I approached.

“Well, Carter, here we are. Make or break time. You can survive Vincent now, you can almost certainly destroy his lesser minions. You can cast your mind out, you can survive a beating, even being wounded.”

“Your point?” I asked.

“My point is that you have no power of your own.”

I didn’t know what he meant, and I said so. He looked at me. “Carter, You’re great on technique, but you never really followed Martine’s instincts and instructions, did you?”

“What do you mean, old man?”

“She told you to harness your sexual talent, didn’t she?”

“Yes, and I did deal with it.”

Martine laughed, “Deal with it, Carter? You performed some kind of sexual healing on a broke hooker, then you mind controlled Natalie here, but you never actually turned her into your sex toy. Rather than actually deal with your power, you left Angela confused and leaving message after message for you on your answering machine, and poor, fucked up Natalie here has no real idea what her place is.”

Natalie looked at Martine, “You know, I am really confused by a couple of things. What’s all this talk about...”

“Shhh,” Loris said, and Natalie lapsed into a silence, playing idly with the curling up edge of the old Formica on the table.

“You’re trying to destroy Vincent’s entire organization and you’re unwilling to use your best weapon. You’re an idiot, and you’re going to get Martine and yourself killed,” he paused for a moment, then continued. “I really could care less if you destroy yourself. I’ve taught you the basics of survival, and you’ll either harness your power, or you won’t. The shame will be Martine.”

Martine turned and looked at Loris, and I could feel the flow of power as she tried to stop him. She failed.

“The shame about Martine is this, Carter... oooh, she really doesn’t want me to say this. Can’t you feel the power just boiling off of her?”

“Martine’s falling in love with you, Carter.”

Martine’s assault on Loris vanished, she blushed a deep red, and looked away, tears at the corners of her eyes. “Bastard.”

“So, Carter. Tonight is your make or break night. You have an appointment to keep. Martine and Natalie and I will head back to the trailer. If you die tonight, I’ll send Martine home, mind wiped and happy to return to Claudio, unable to remember me or talk about this, and I’ll keep Natalie as a souvenir of our lovely time together.”

“I really do hate long speeches, but there are a couple of things worth adding. You’re strong, very strong. If you could just let yourself go, you might well be among the strongest telepaths I’ve ever known... myself included. But something is holding you back, something inside you that I could only get to if I was willing to ruin you. And that, well that would ruin the whole game.”

I stared at him. There was nothing really for me to say.

They got up from the table, Martine, under his influence, was not talking but clearly had something to communicate. I tried to read her mind, but Loris’s power blocked me. She looked at me with tear filled eyes. The look was clearly pleading, but I had no idea for what.

“You’ll wait here, Carter. Come to the trailer in the morning if you survive.”

They left. I was alone in the biker bar for a while. After a bit, I got myself a beer and returned to my booth. I had no idea what was about to happen, but it clearly had something to do with sex. I sat and nursed both my beer and my sense of being the victim of powers beyond my ability to control.

The door to the bar opened and a woman walked in. She was so beautiful that every head in the bar turned to look at her. Although before that night I had never really been attracted to heaver women, I suddenly knew for the first time what other men meant when they said ‘big, beautiful woman’.

This divine creature was about five foot tall, and had to be at least three hundred pounds of pure sexy beauty. She wore the prettiest lime green frock, which could be called a mu-mu, and the heat of raw feminine sexuality just flowed off of her like a tidal wave of passion.

With a pleasant little belch, she shoved a biker off his bar stool and took his place. He grinned at her and apologized. She shoved him aside, that unworthy piece of flesh, and mounted the stool. I could only hope, deep in my heart, that I would prove worthy of being mounted that way.

A couple of guys starting shoving each other, vying for the opportunity to clean out a booth for her to sit in. She pushed those beautiful tortoise shell framed cats-eye shaped glasses up in her nose.

In the most lovely, beautiful low pitched voice, she told the bartender to give her a beer before she had him tear his own nuts off and eat them. He giggled at her and complied.

I shook my head and threw off the glamour. What I saw was an ugly fat woman turning a biker bar inside out. Within a second, she whipped around and noticed me.

That was a mistake. This woman was a powerful, trained telepath, and she was not playing...

I could feel a slow blooming pressure behind my eyes as she tried to dominate me.

I threw up a fast and dirty aura of submission and then quickly put up a maze of conflicting emotion overlaying my core personality. As she tried to go for that, I grabbed a handful of nearby guys and had them get very interested in her.

They stood up and started heading her way, just as a couple of guys pulled guns and began looking my way.

Have you ever seen a fencing match? To a trained observer, the movements are clear. To a novice, it passes in a blur.

She tried to overwhelm me with activity. Basically, what she tried to do was to very quickly generate a situation that I could not control.

First she tried sending more guys my way than I could handle. When I was able to handle all of them at once, she gave that up and tried to directly bore in on me, overwhelm me with pure strength.

That didn’t work either, but we were more closely matched in strength than I liked, and it was rapidly looking like we were going to be locked into a contest of wills.

What generally happens when telepaths engage in a battle is that people nearby get hit with the overspray. There’s a splash effect. People don’t get directly controlled, until there’s a winner, but they get whipsawed around by the passing energy.

The woman’s name was Ruby. She was Vincent’s main agent in Reno, and she was powerful. Her game was sex and power, and she liked to use up her toys. The closer I got to her mind, the uglier she was.

Out in the bar, there was enough raw power roiling through the air that the guys were starting to draw guns, to leave, to start fighting, to get excited or fearful. Every emotion was coming out, and people were responding. The thing was, the fight would be over in seconds, long before they could become a decisive factor.

Ruby was fast. As she bored in on me, it was all I could do to keep her at bay. I was on the defensive from the start, and was finding myself mentally backpedaling from her work. She seemed experienced at this form of combat, and her attacks were assured and practiced.

While none of her attacks had the raw power that Loris had, her expertise was more than enough to make up for that... at least as far as I was concerned.

I could feel my defenses beginning to crumble and I was not fast enough to put up new ones that would slow her down. I was losing, and it was not supposed to go this way.

I could feel her anticipation filtering in as overflow.

Wait.

That’s when I saw it.

I could feel her anticipation. I never got that from Loris, not once. His attacks were so clean, so pristine that you never got even a hint of motivation from them. Ruby’s attacks were powerful, fast, hard edged, but they were ‘dirty’.

I could use that.... that very dirtyness ... it was an open channel into her mind. Sure, not a direct channel, but if I could feel her emotional state that way, I could surely do something to go back up that channel, couldn’t I?

She pressed me harder, her lust for dominating me beginning to be a clear presence. It was there, like a palpable sense in the air. Excitement, lust, anticipation. I could ‘smell’ her ... this was like the best sex in the world for her.

I began to visualize it, go with it, allow her lust to actually manifest as lust... I could see, could visualize each parry and thrust of our combat as sex, filthy, sweat drenched, mattress pounding, pelvis bruising sex...

And then I was in.

There she was, Ruby, her internal self, her internal picture... sixteen, beautiful, naïve, and aroused. I could see the scene in her mind... her Uncle’s house... mid-summer... evening, crickets chirping outside. She’s been given a couple of drinks, to celebrate her birthday... she’s tipsy...

He rapes her... violates her, takes her innocence, uses her... he throws her over the couch, forces her legs apart, forces himself on her. His sweat drips on her back.. she’s screaming .. he’s grunting... he’s in her...

And there’s the moment it all changed.

She cums... while being raped. And suddenly, she’s a bad girl, a dirty girl... and something snaps... and her mind opens... and the next thing anyone knows, poor old uncle-fucker is in cardiac arrest, and Ruby is found naked on the couch. Her aunt slaps her... dirty slut.

Dirty Slut.

Ruby’s a dirty slut inside. I touch the slut from inside. She responds to me, and Ruby the dominant monster begins to crumble. There’s screaming in the bar. I can hear it distantly. I stroke Ruby the slut, and Ruby the monster, the killer, is dying.

She’s running now. How do you outrun the mind?

How do you outrun me?

Ruby. Ruby, who has killed a dozen men in her bed, who has used knives on men, who has sold her soul to Vincent... Ruby the monster dies.

The door opens, in very slow motion, running up a hill in a dream, Ruby tries to hurl herself outside that door. Time gets thick like a night of wishing, and ....

and ... and Tim Snyle, three time loser out on parole, who just finished beating his girlfriend’s face in... Tim draws his stolen short barrel Glock and fires in a smooth and precise motion born of having all the time in the world.

The bullet enters the back of Ruby’s head, and I give her time to say good bye to herself, lock her into an infinite loop of forgiving herself for her mistake at sixteen, and then let her go.

A gout of blood and brains blows across the open door and out into the night.

Ruby goes peacefully home.

Tim puts the gun on the bar and tells the bartender to call the cops. Everyone else forgets me and I walk out, over Ruby, and into the world of revenge.