The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Josie Cade’s mind was exhausted.

Her arms and legs were stretched wide apart as she hung in the air. She was pulled open, naked, but there were no bindings. She merely dangled helplessly on display before the Mind Witch.

Amaria DeStehl had transformed into another figure, the same woman now about 30, although she was dressed in tight, black, seamless latex from her neck to her ankles. Josie floated above her just high enough that as Josie looked down she could not see her feet. But she could hear the sound of Amaria’s heels as they clicked on the stone floor of the dungeon she had created in Josie’s mind.

The witch had been trying to break Josie by taking her somewhere she had never been before—deep into her subconscious ... where her nightmares lived.

Josie knew she wasn’t on fire, wasn’t drowning, wasn’t being attacked by wild dogs. There were no such things as monsters. But the lines blurred as Josie suffered through those realities. The nightmares of her childhood were real. Here. In front of her. She could feel the fright, the agony. Still, she fought them, fought against what she knew was an illusion. A physical impossibility.

All the while Amaria was rolling her nipples, pressing on her clit just hard enough to elicit a sexual response during the endless terrors of Josie’s imagination in an effort to link the two together in a perverse duet. Suffering augmented by horniness. Yet Josie held back, no matter how hard it was not to give in and succumb to the aching pleasures Amaria offered with her fingers. To cum despite the pain. Josie was determined not to be the source of satisfaction for this witch.

Finally, Amaria stepped back unable to prevent showing her frustration. Then she smiled wickedly.

“You were right, you know,” Amaria said, gently running her hand along Josie’s neckline. “I’m not going to kill you. I do want you here to entertain me.

“It would be a waste to throw away the opportunity of exploring such an intriguing mind. Especially since I haven’t been able to pluck from it how you were able to find me here. It’s as if you don’t even know yourself.”

She stepped in front of Josie and dug her nails into Josie’s stomach and scratched deeply. Josie winced in pain but remained tight-lipped.

“You didn’t dream it. Perhaps you had a vision? Something buried even deeper in your subconscious? In any event, I will take my time to find it, scattering pieces of your soul around the room as I go. But I will find the answer.”

“So,” Josie croaked out weakly, “you don’t really know everything. Do you?”

She could see the anger in the Mind Witch’s eyes ... and Josie fell, as if a lever had been pulled dropping the floor beneath her feet.

Josie’s consciousness tumbled—downdowndown—and stopped abruptly at a memory. A setting that was painfully familiar.

The inside of Community Bank of Century.

Josie looked at Amaria, whose eyes almost flickered with anticipation. Josie stood next to the Mind Witch and looked at the images around her so sharply drawn that it made her heart pound.

“Last payment!” Audrey said with a broad smile. “Then finally that old heap outside will be all mine. I never thought this day would come.”

Nineteen-year-old Josie smiled. “I was kinda hoping you’d get rid of that thing. It’s like a deathtrap.”

They laughed, Audrey running her hand down Josie’s arm as they headed toward the teller.

Suddenly, four men rushed into the bank, carrying semi-automatic weapons.

“Everyone get down!” one of the men yelled. “This is a robbery! Everyone down! Down on the floor. No screwing around!”

Josie could see it all, the horrible memory played out before her. It was if it were a play and she had a front-row seat. She quickly realized her opportunity and began to fixate on everything before her. And her anger grew.

Her eyes locked on each of the four men—their images burning into her. The long-haired one, the bearded one, the redheaded one, the heavyset one. She studied each face carefully, memorizing them through the raging hatred that made her heart race and hands shake.

Ages, body types, ethnicities, eyes, teeth, ears, hair, weight, height, speech patterns, body language.

Faces she knew she would never forget again. Amaria eyed Josie carefully.

Josie then watched in fascination as her younger self and Audrey looked at each other wide-eyed and slowly slide to the floor.

The other four bank patrons did the same, as did the one security guard. The tellers and the bank manager moved out from behind the counter, a second hold-up man pointing a gun toward the floor in their direction.

Two of the men headed for the safe, while two stood guard in the lobby. No one dared breathe. Not a single head looked up from the floor.

“Nobody move an inch! Just lay there and it will all be over in a few minutes.”

Young Josie’s left hand reached out and squeezed Audrey’s arm, feeling it flex. She looked sideways from the floor and stared at the frightened young woman she clung to.

Josie’s eyes weren’t scared. They were on fire. Audrey bit her lip as she noticed Josie’s other hand reaching into the purse flung above her head. Audrey tried to shake her head NO, her eyes pleading. But Josie only looked more determined. She dug into the purse, gently sliding out the cell.

Audrey’s eyes were wide with fear. She knew she couldn’t do or say anything that would draw attention to them. She couldn’t stop Josie.

Josie’s hands fumbled over the buttons. Her fingers deftly hit the 9, then the 1, then the 1. But she had forgotten one thing. As the call connected, the volume was still on high. And the phone’s ring echoed across the room.

The phone was kicked away—“You stupid bitch!”

Josie was enraged, leaping up and grabbing at the robber, grabbing for his gun. He pushed her down roughly. He pointed the weapon at Josie’s head.

Watching her memory play out before her, Josie’s hands reached out in a vain attempt to stop the inevitable.

Then Audrey sprang. She lunged, trying to tackle the man around his legs ... but missed. As she stood up, the second hold-up man turned ... and the loud BANGBANGBANG! startled Josie. She tried to get up again too, but the man above her shoved her down easily.

“Don’t fucking move!”

The other two men hurried into the lobby—“What the fuck? You shot somebody?” “Let’s get out of here!” “We got it! Let’s go!”

The four men dashed out of the bank as young Josie crawled toward Audrey—face down, in a growing puddle of blood.

“No! No, no no! Audrey? Audrey? It’s me! It’s Josie! I’m here. We’ll ...”

She stopped as she turned Audrey over. Her chest was a deep, deep red.

“Hang on! We’ll get a doctor!” Josie pulled Audrey to her, cradling her in her arms and she knelt. She waved away somebody. “No! I need ... doctor ...”

Then she looked into Audrey’s eyes. Deep blue and bright. But the light was dimming.

“Oh Audrey ... please ... I’m so sorry. I’m so ...”

Audrey smiled.

“Oh, baby ...

“... I couldn’t let them hurt you.”

Josie looked at herself—the young woman she was gently rocking her love, her only love, dying in her arms again.

“Don’t worry, Josie,” Audrey said. “I’ll be ...”

She lifted her hand and placed it over Josie’s heart. “... right here.”

“No!!!!!!”

Josie heard clapping above her as she collapsed to the floor. Everything around her was frozen in time. The anguished face of 19-year-old Josie matching her own. The Mind Witch walked in front of Josie and looked down at her sobbing uncontrollably. Josie looked up.

“That ... that’s not how it happened!”

“But it is,” Amaria cackled. “It is what is true. Wonderful. It was wonderful to see. That moment has been locked away in your mind these past five years. Your weakness. Your fatal flaw. Your own guilt locked it away so tightly and deeply that you allowed yourself to believe an untruth. Not realizing that creating the fantasy of what happened would never give you the peace you craved. How does it feel, Cade?”

Josie was too stunned to move. It was true!

“I will keep you. Now that I have you the way I want you. You won’t be giving me any more trouble. And I could use a slave around here. A mind to use. And certainly ... a body to use. Welcome home, Josie.”

Josie opened her mouth to scream. Then felt herself plunging, falling deeply to sleep.

Amaria DeStehl sipped her champagne as her slave served dinner.

She was heady with satisfaction as she looked around the splendor of the room, filled with the priceless antiques, art and furnishings she had “acquired” over a lifetime of thievery.

The slave was naked, except for the thick collar around her neck and the 20 feet of chain that coiled at her feet connected at the other end to a metal ring under the dining table. The slave didn’t even recall cooking the dinner. But she had done it precisely and perfectly according to the instructions she had been told to read and memorize in the kitchen.

The slave then kneeled beside her Queen, her back stiff and her mind soft and empty. There were no commands in the dark void of her thoughts to follow but being always at the ready in the service of her owner.

Amaria ran her fingers lightly over the deep slashes on her slave’s belly as she placed the napkin on her lap.

“You’ve done very well, slave. It looks delicious. And after dinner I will take you to bed, if you complete all your tasks for the evening. I’m looking forward to putting a few more scars on that firm flesh of yours. And delving into your mind a bit. Especially your impressively strong sexual drives. I’m surprised you didn’t become a whore instead of a crimefighter.”

Amaria laughed loudly, taking great pleasure in knowing that the slave at her feet was totally unaware of the insult. She forced a finger into her slave’s cunt and nodded approvingly. Her slave was dry.

An hour later, the slave was following her Queen into her lavish bedroom, the thick chain replaced by a thin leather strap. Not that it was needed. The tether between their minds pulled the slave along in blank obedience.

Amaria stopped in the center of the room, placing her hand under the chin of her new slave, taking in her beauty and the glassy emptiness in her green eyes.

“I will enjoy this, slave. I’m going to find out how you found me, but not before I ravage your body. And then you will beg to tell me. There are so many interesting ways of causing pain and pleasure at the same time.”

The hand fell away and Amaria stepped awkwardly, a hand to her forehead. She sighed heavily.

“Unfortunately, maintaining control of a mind even as weak as yours for this long a time can be tiring.” She took a few steps toward a door on the other side of the room, then turned. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Amaria entered the anteroom on the far side of the bed. The slave had an impulse, and she moved her head to follow her Queen with her eyes. She slowly stepped forward, around the bed, and stood in the doorway.

The room gave off a soft red glow. In the center of the room was a small table and on top of it something round was hidden under a black, silk coverlet. Amaria pulled the sheet off, revealing a glowing orb about the size of a bowling ball. Very carefully, Amaria placed her hands on each side of it, closing her eyes.

The orb began to swirl and Amaria’s head lifted slightly, feeling the pulses of light taking form and submerging her fingers in it.

The slave backed away slowly, quietly, and returned to her spot in the bedroom, resuming her posture of obedience and mindlessness.

Josie Cade woke up.

She felt her lips touching a smooth, sweaty shoulder on the body beside her before turning and finding hard lips waiting. Josie couldn’t recall the past hour she spent being fucked by this woman, the animalistic sex as her body was used. But she felt the sting on her bruised lips and mouth and the rawness between her legs.

Yet she was awake now ... and looked into the eyes of Amaria DeStehl.

Josie was detached from the grip on her mind at last. She didn’t realize it, but she had been prepared for this moment. Mistress Mynd had toyed with her thoughts. Miranda Foggina’s pink mist had blanked her out from herself. Zandilla had tapped into her memories. And Amaria DeStehl had made her face her nightmares.

The Josie who had overcome all of that knew what she needed to do. She was focused.

Josie flowed off the bed, as if in slow motion, then turned to see the Mind Witch with her arms wrapped around empty air. Her lips twisting, her tongue seeking. Moaning into an invisible lover.

Josie hurried into the anteroom, yanking the black shroud off the orb.

Amaria moaned again on the bed. Her slave’s movements had changed. They were more forceful, more accurately reading where and how to send spasms of pleasure through her body. But the pinches to her nipples were rough. The bite to her neck made her wince. And the thumb that found its way between her drenched lips was unyielding as it drove deeply into her.

“Slave ... Cade. Stop!” Amaria was grunting but her slave only pushed deeper, holding her body down with her other arm and pushing her back into the pillow with her head. Amaria tried to struggle free.

Then a familiar voice: “Hello, my love. Miss me?”

Amaria strained through tearing eyes to see the one person she never expected to see—Zandilla.

In the anteroom, Josie looked at the orb carefully. She could hear Amaria gasp loudly from the bedroom.

Josie had lost the two people in her life she loved the most and found strength in her endurance. She had used her anger to take vengeance against wrongdoers and found the strength to finally purge it. To only do what was right, what was just. She had been made helpless and controlled ... and found strength in her ability to persevere, to fight—not just against villains, not just for their victims and not even against her own sense of guilt.

She fought for Josie Cade. She needed to fight for her now. Josie took a deep breath, then pressed her hands upon the orb ...

In the bedroom, The Sorceress and the Mind Witch glared at each other. Amaria pushed Zandilla away, freeing herself enough to roll off the bed, then spun around from her knees.

“I should have know,” Amaria hissed.

“Yes, you should have, sister. You don’t know everything.”

“I’m more powerful than you, Zandilla. There is nothing you can do.”

Zandilla stood, towering over the witch. “I wanted to be like you. I grew up wanting to be like you, I loved you that much. I was willing to be corrupted. I could have used my gifts differently, but they were perverted. My mind wasn’t strong enough. But I’ve found someone whose mind is stronger than both of ours.”

Amaria lunged at Zandilla, but just as their bodies were about to collide Zandilla’s image turned into a puff of smoke, dissipating into the air. The witch stumbled, then stood dumbfounded.

Josie returned to the bedroom—the swirling orb bright in her hands. She lifted it over her head.

“No. No, don’t!”

In one mighty motion Josie smashed it on the wooden floor, watching it explode into a million pieces.

Amaria staggered back—her visage of truth stood before Josie. Aged, wrinkled, ugly.

Josie could sense the fear on Amaria’s gray face as she approached. The Mind Witch closed her eyes and concentrated, trying to push Josie away with her thoughts. Yet Josie’s face grew even more calm, mentally batting away the hateful thoughts like so many of the fists she had dodged before.

“Sorry,” Josie said as she stood before the old witch. “That won’t work on me anymore.”

“Are you going to kill me then?” the Mind Witch asked in a hoarse voice, defiance in her eyes. “Because you’ll have to kill me if you think—”

With all her strength, Josie swung.

It took Josie a lot longer to deliver Amaria DeStehl to the nearest police station than she’d wanted. She had to do some fast talking to explain to the officers there what the situation was—why she had an old woman tied up over her shoulder. Amaria was still out cold. Fortunately, one officer had recently transferred from Century and knew well of the masked vigilante.

On the drive back home, Josie’s thoughts weren’t on Amaria or Zandilla or the mysterious orb. They were on the four men she was hunting.

She had copies of every mug shot on file at Century’s police headquarters over the last 20 years, but she needed to spread her net wider. She needed facial recognition software and all the mugs available within a 200-mile radius. To start.

Josie was so close to the end she could almost taste it, but this was going to take time. She needed a short cut.

“Josie! My God!”

Josie smiled into the phone at the happy voice on the other end. If anyone knew computers it was Megan Tanner aka Techna. She already had an impressive database of all the criminals between River City and Century. The other “Supers” had accessed it many times. But these weren’t supervillains. These were young men, common crooks. Either too brash or too stupid to have not worn masks that day.

“What about the bank’s security cameras? I can get a lot of different images from them. I can do all that for you. It would narrow your search quite a bit.”

Josie sighed. “They had the videos for the initial investigation, but they were lost or stolen or misplaced. No one has seen them in five years.”

“You know,” Megan said hopefully, “I could always bop down to Century and we can do this together. I have some free time on my hands.”

Josie stammered. “Well, let’s start with this and maybe ...”

Megan laughed, and it made Josie smile. “I’m just teasing. But you know, Josie, one of these days you’re gonna take me up on my offer.”

Megan had worked fast. Within hours, Josie was letting her computer do the work, running at lightning speed through file after file, face after face, name after name. Josie’s memory of that day was so fresh that she was able to construct composites of their facial features and physical details into the software Megan had sent her and from the thousands of faces and names at her fingertips she was able to whittle it down to hundreds, then dozens.

Then four.

The man Josie had attacked and one of the men who looted the safe were already behind bars, serving 20-year sentences for the same crime—armed robbery. The third man was dead. Two years. Driving drunk, he’d lost control and flipped his truck over an embankment and died instantly.

But the shooter was still free.

Curtis Wheeler had done time, 18 months for petty theft before he was released on parole two months ago. It was his first offense. His parole officer had the info on him—it took Megan all of five minutes to remotely hack into his computer—where he worked, where he lived. He was in Century.

Josie waited in her car, knowing exactly when he would come out of his shabby apartment. She had to force herself to breathe slowly and deeply, trying to choke back her anger. This was the moment she had been waiting for. She got out just as he opened the door.

“Curtis Wheeler?” she said as he reached the curb. “Oct. 15, 2011. Remember that date? You’ve been identified by one of the witnesses in the bank.”

She could see that he did. His face fell in shock. Then eyed Josie carefully.

“What ... what do you think you’re gonna do about it?”

His voice was defiant, perhaps because she was a woman, perhaps because that’s what a tough guy was supposed to say. But there was no life in the threat behind it.

There are prisons and then there are prisons. A criminal could serve 30 years and come out just as bad as before. But this was a young man who had to live with what he had done. Josie could recall in her mind his image the moment after his weapon went off, his nervous finger squeezing the trigger without thinking. The horror on his face.

The man who stood before her had lived with that horror every day for almost six years.

“I could break your neck.”

And he saw that she could, that she would. Josie had wished for this moment. She was face to face with Audrey’s murderer. The old Josie, the one who first put on a mask, might have.

But not this one.

“Come on,” she said. “I have to take you in.”

Smithers had just slammed the door on the black-and-white when Josie approached. She didn’t need to look inside the vehicle to know that Curtis Wheeler was ... relieved.

“You gonna be okay?” Smithers asked.

“Yeah,” Josie said, nodding. “It’s strange. I played that moment out in my head a thousand times. What I’d do to him. But it never ended this way.”

“Maybe,” he said, “because you didn’t have to think about doing the right thing.”

Warden Quick didn’t even pause when he saw Josie standing outside the locked entrance to the prison. Smithers hadn’t even come with her. Quick just led her to the basement.

The four guards had taken up their positions as Josie approached the glass wall of Zandilla’s cell.

“You used me.”

“In a way. And only as far as I could,” Zandilla said directly. “The rest of it you did all on your own, Josie.”

“She’s your sister.”

“Yes.”

“Then why did you say—”

“I didn’t want anything else in that sharp mind of yours that wasn’t absolutely necessary, Josie.”

“I didn’t killer her. I wouldn’t have.”

“I know that, child. I never expected you to. But you needed to know it was a possibility. Otherwise, you might not have found the strength to oppose her. I didn’t think you’d kill the men you’ve been searching for all these years, either. You’re not a killer.”

Josie took a deep breath and Zandilla could see pleading in her eyes.

“I don’t know ... which memory of that day is true.”

“Yes you do, Josie,” Zandilla said quietly. “Guilt. There isn’t any stronger human emotion. Except for love.

“You cannot blame yourself for what happened. You did what you thought was right. So did Audrey. You cannot be responsible for the actions of others. No one should. No one has learned that lesson better than I.”

Josie nodded.

“You’ve held up your end of the bargain, Josie. And I shall fulfill mine. When you’re ready.”

Josie stared at Zandilla, then closed her eyes.

“I’m ready.”

The first thing Josie saw brought a smile to her face.

That bed. That squeaky, rickety bed they had shared in their apartment when they were in school.

The second thing she saw ... was Audrey, as she always was for Josie. Bright, beautiful and radiating a love so strong Josie could almost feel waves of it washing over her.

Josie rushed on top of her, Audrey’s beaming smile embracing her before her arms did. And as their lips joined, Josie felt a release—of pain, of unfulfilled longing, of pent-up guilt. All she felt was the love she had so long denied anyone, especially herself.

Josie’s eyes were dry. Tears were not enough to express how she felt. The joy of holding Audrey in her arms again. Like two virgins remembering then and knowing now that this first time was also the last.

Still, there was a newness to it all. As if the nearly six years of emptiness had been filled, quickly and completely, and she spread it all out, sharing it with the body beneath her.

Time did stand still. They made love with everything that lovemaking could possibly offer—the pleasure of giving more than receiving, the playful giggles, the lusty moans, the intimate care from a kiss or touch or shared sigh.

Josie was made whole.

Their lips parted, and Josie took a long time to gaze at the face that looked back at her lovingly. The face of the one person who had loved her, this way—as the young girl she was so long ago.

“Audrey? It’s time for me to go.”

Audrey squeezed Josie’s arm. “You don’t have to, Josie. We can stay here. A day? A week? A year? As long as you want. Time stands still here.”

Josie kissed her cheek.

“I know. But ... I have things to look forward to now. I didn’t have that. I was always looking back. We have this moment. And I will treasure it with all the others. I love you, so much.”

She gave Audrey a deep, lasting smile.

“I’ll always be ...” And she pressed her hand to Audrey’s heart. “... right here.”

Josie blinked, and stared through the glass cell. The four guards rushed forward, looking around frantically. Josie was inside. And Zandilla was gone.

“Magic tricks,” Smithers scoffed out as he pushed back from the dining room table. “I would sure like to know how she pulled it off.”

Jerry was clearing the table, his eyes on Josie. She poured another glass of wine and shook her head.

“No,” she said. “It wasn’t magic. Zandilla could have gotten out of there any time she wanted.”

Jerry stopped, the dinner plates in his hand. Smithers’ glass of beer was held mid-motion before his lips. Both sets of eyes were fixed on Josie.

“There’s a reason for everything, boys,” she said, trying to smile.

“What makes you say that?” Smithers asked.

Jerry took a step toward her. “Yeah. Why didn’t she just walk out of there anytime if she could?”

A smile came to her slowly.

“Because,” she said, “she was waiting for me.”

“Well, if she could get out, then Amaria will just as easily,” said Smithers.

“No,” Josie replied quickly. “I have a feeling Zandilla’s going to keep an eye on her for us. I don’t think we’ll have to worry about Amaria DeStehl anymore.”

Josie gave Smithers a soft kiss to his cheek as he prepared to leave, full and buzzy and happy to see Josie back to being her old self. He looked at her a long moment as he stood in the doorway pulling on his coat. Her old self, he thought. Her new self. The way she was meant to be.

“I’ll see you at work.”

He kissed her back, quickly, almost embarrassed by his own gesture. He gave her a wink and a wave to Jerry as he walked out, feeling more at peace than he had in a long time. And, he was looking forward to getting home to Bonnie.

Josie turned around as she closed to the door. Jerry looked at her with uncertain expectation.

She walked up to him, admiring his solid, muscular arms, and ran her hands up and down them.

“I’m sorry I pushed you away,” she said, looking up. “I felt like this was something I needed to do alone.”

Jerry softly kissed her forehead.

“You don’t have to say anything, Jo. Men like me? We don’t ask for much.”

She pulled him in for a tight hug, surprising him. He wrapped his arms around her gratefully. They held each other a long time. Josie hoped it was his voice in her head. The words he would never say to her aloud. She looked up at him. And he finally, for the first time, could read her face.

Jerry swept Josie up in his arms and carried her lovingly into the bedroom.

As he laid Josie on the bed, he noticed something on her dresser top.

“What’s that glass ball?”

Josie smiled. “A souvenir.”

Josie Cade effortlessly slid down the fire escape ladder and leaned.

It was a quiet night in Century. Not a siren to be heard. Her eyes scanned the apartment building across the street.

She concentrated, hearing the sounds, the voices. At one window, a child’s silent laugh at the television show he was watching. Another window, and she could hear the pleasure in the thoughts of the old man picking his banjo to the tune that had stirred him out of bed.

Another window ... a mild domestic squabble she couldn’t even begin to make sense of—the voices and the thoughts in conflict even within themselves. Another window, and she could hear the internal monologues of two teenagers listening to music, each too nervous to vocally plant the seeds of a soon-budding romance.

Josie could hear it all. In her mind.

There was a smash! The shattering of glass down the street. A soundless cry for help in the mind of a homeless man being attacked and abused by a pair of thugs. Thugs looking for kicks and nothing more.

Her eyes steeled.

The superheroine known as Focus sprang into action.