The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The blonde sat in her office, listening to the President of the highly homophobic Society of Moral Women rant on and on about the sins of the modern world. It was ironic that she was so bored; she had been a founding member just a few short years before. Now, she could barely listen as the raving woman, a woman who had once been one of her closest friends, carried on about the destruction of society due to the attack on morality that had been sweeping the country like a plague.

She nodded her head and smiled at all the right places, making sure that her misguided guest felt placated. She felt her hair on her shoulders, and wished that she didn’t have to wear this ridiculous wig, these ridiculously conservative clothes, or waste her time patronizing women with foolish notions. Her hands fidgeted, diplomatically out of sight, betraying her true restlessness as she wished that this meeting was over.

As she fidgeted, the room became more and more distant, the useless chatter seeming farther and farther away. Under her desk, her defiant hands fidgeted and swirled in perpetual motion, her fingers circling and circling, obscenely and ceaselessly circling, her hot, swollen, screaming clit.

Finally, the rabid woman began to slow down her barrage, her repugnant passel of sexual bigotry exhausted. “Lindsey—er... Senator Thomas,” she said, “I know it’s the same old thing, and I know you know all the issues involved, but it just seems to be getting worse. It’s as if there is something at work in the plethora of accepting attitudes of all the media towards these abominable ways of life. I don’t like to sound so radical as to propose that there is a conspiracy, but it certainly seems like more than coincidence.”

Lindsey appeared distantly thoughtful and finally responded, “I know how overwhelming it can be, Jesse. When Charles was alive, we talked about the possibility that it was a conspiracy, one that was reaching even into government, numbing good, wholesome people to lewdness (circle, circle) and debauchery (flick) that would, at first glance, appear to be spreading. In the end though, our conclusion, and my conclusion, is that it is mostly hype (pinch). It’s a question of marketing. Otherwise, people like you, and me (slut...Goddess...obey...), who are decent and upstanding (slaves) citizens, would not (surrender) survive.

“But I do have concerns as well. Sex (yes) as a trivial tool of advertising is nearly as (divine) bad. I suggest you contact your Executive Board, and arrange a luncheon (orgy) so that we can (fuck for hours) discuss possible strategies for (seduction) dealing with this (holy vision) problem.”

“That would be great, Lindsey!” bubbled Jesse. “I’ll have my secretary call your office this afternoon to arrange it!”

Both women rose, and after a few last pleasantries, Jesse left the office. Lindsey watched in lustful admiration as the younger woman left the chamber. Beautiful face, beautiful tits, beautiful ass... what a wonderful addition to the Goddess’ temple she will be—not to mention a real political coup, thought Lindsey.

As the door closed, she reveled in completing her assigned task, savoring the moment of pleasing her Goddess, Julia, and she suddenly, violently came, grunting loudly and rhythmically as pleasure rampaged through her and time stood still.

When she had nearly recovered, she keyed her intercom, and called, “Elizabeth, please come in for a moment.”

The door opened, and her small, petitesecretary entered, and walked to Lindsey’s desk, a quizzical look on her face.

“Elizabeth, Jesse Mattox will be calling you to arrange a luncheon. Once she has done so, and the scheduling has been confirmed, please call the Goddess and let her know that we have been successful in bringing her the new candidate for consecration,” panted Lindsey, in between deep breaths.

Elizabeth made a small note on her steno pad and walked to the door, but instead of passing through it into her small reception area, she closed and locked it. Smiling, she turned back around to her employer, a coy, gentle smile playing across her voluptuous mouth. Lindsey’s eyes lit up in knowing anticipation as she slowly made her way around her desk.

With incredibly disciplined formality that covered a lust betrayed only by glistening, moistened lips and hungry eyes, the two women reached up and pulled away their wigs, revealing the jelled, jet-black hair that was slickly matted to their heads, as if painted on. Almost without thought, they approached each other, and with reverence and affection, mussed each others’ hair, playing and delicately moving their fingers until each head was covered in unruly, short, restlessly sexy spikes. They backed away from each other, their eyes glowing with muted adoration, and removed their clothes, as if in sacred ritual, folding and laying them carefully in the bottom of an antique wardrobe that sat in the corner.

Their preparation finished and the successful completion of their latest task within reach, they fell to each other, beginning an afternoon of passion and lust so intertwined that anyone walking in would not have been able to tell where one stopped and the other began, their tongues finding lips that promised the heated nectar of fruit no longer forbidden...

The afternoon sun shining into the office fell across the gently sleeping bodies of the two spent and satisfied women. The one called Elizabeth slowly roused into half-sleep on the way to consciousness. Naked and tangled, like a rendition of Eve, she knew no shame, feeling only the euphoria of life in paradise, of walking in the path of the Goddess.

Slowly, she became aware of her surroundings and, careful not to disturb her sleeping lover, went to the telephone and dialed a number. She sat, unaware of how long it was ringing, but only that she waited for the distant phone to be answered. When she finally heard the click of a handset being lifted, there was no voice of greeting in her ear, nor did there need to be.

“Goddess,” she whispered.

Julia Shelton sat in her private sanctuary, waiting for a promised phone call, considering how things were going. All in all, she was very pleased. Her ambitions had changed since the beginning of her latest string of acquisitions. By comparison, all the seductive games of her youth had been drab and only partially satisfying; this time it was very different.

The idea had come simply enough. There were so many oddball cults taking in so many incredibly smart and otherwise sensible people and giving them a fanatical devotion. It was nearly impossible to crack, even though no really powerful brainwashing techniques had been used. It was so obvious, it should have occurred to her years before. She smiled, reminding herself that now was good enough.

Julia had a gift. Some people would say she was psychic, but she didn’t think so, at least in the classic sense. Some would say she was an amazing judge of character, but that wasn’t it either. What Julia had, in the simplest of terms, was the ability to quickly see what made people tick. She could see their motivations; their fears, their dreams, and most importantly, their obsessions.

And with that knowledge, she could shape them.

Within a few minutes of casual conversation, she knew whether they would be best approached with logic, with drugs, with technology, or even particular types of motion that grabbed their attention. The list was apparently endless and she had even been surprised at a few of the variations. It wasn’t that she had absolutely mastered any particular control techniques, although she was innately much more than adequate at any of them. It was that she knew how they would respond, and how to misdirect, which was more than they knew themselves. Without them even knowing, she could move them into a state of deep, mind-altering hallucination simply by letting their minds’ own reflexes close off avenues of escape.

Julia let her thoughts wander back in sweet remembrance.

She had started with women she knew. Her hairdresser and her attorney were her two first devotees. The results were more gratifying than she could ever have predicted. These women had gone from being vaguely friendly people to worshippers who would do anything, perform any deviant act, and even die for her if they thought it was her desire. It gave her a sense of responsibility, but even more, it made her thirsty for the excesses of her own bizarre compulsions.

She spent months working with her new sluts—shaping them, changing them, playing with their perceptions and desires. She was vaguely aware that she was honing her craft—but she was much more interested in the sinewy, hard-lined, ravenous sapphic sex that she was able to achieve with her converts. She had no need of more, and she didn’t even think of adding to her adoring couplet until she happened upon delicious little Elizabeth Parker.

She had met Elizabeth in the reception area of their mutual attorney. Short and incredibly elfin, perhaps five feet tall, with a scarlet dyed pageboy haircut, pert breasts and just a touch of weight around her hips, Julia immediately knew that this would be her next devoted concubine. She engaged the shy but otherwise friendly girl in light conversation, her eyes picking up every nuance of motion and reaction. Within ten minutes, she knew that the brunette was engaged, worked for Senator Charles Thomas, was completely heterosexual, highly religious and, for the most part, sexually inexperienced.

She also knew that little Lizzy was turned on by the smell of sweat. Turned on like a furnace.

All Elizabeth knew was that this strange woman seemed friendly enough, but looked like a complete whore.

Time, thought Julia, and she stood, removing her black leather jacket, revealing the black latex sleeveless bodyshirt she was wearing underneath. She walked across the room to hang it up and tripped, her jacket flying into Elizabeth’s lap. As she fell, she let her armpit fall over Elizabeth’s face, and she held it there, feigning a handhold on the back of Elizabeth’s chair. Grunting with the pretended effort of bring herself to her feet, all she managed to do was keep pressing her tangy, sweet scent into poor Elizabeth’s nose and face.

Elizabeth tried to help once the shock of the collision passed. As she attempted to help lift Julia to her feet, it almost felt like they were working at odds, and the exertion of her effort caused her to breathe more heavily and deeply. She smelled Julia’s tangy, but strangely clean odor and the top of her mouth began to itch, as if from the kiss of a lover. She felt a barely noticeable sense of disappointment as Julia finally managed to right herself, apologizing profusely.

Julia, breathing hard in earnest, made her way back to her seat and plopped down, splaying her leather-clad legs widely. Running her hands over her face and through her short spiked hair, she looked at Elizabeth, who was blushing terribly, and asked if she was alright. Julia also saw the evidence of what she had known would happen...

Elizabeth’s lips were slightly puffy and glowing with color, and her eyes were heavily dilated.

“I’ve messed your face and hair up, Elizabeth, I’m so sorry!” exclaimed Julia. “Come on to the ladies room, I’ll help freshen you up. It’s the least I can do.”

Elizabeth, despite feeling a little awkward at the offer, accepted. She was hardly in a position to be rude after Julia had been so apologetic. She blushed as she also realized with a horrified start that she was soaking wet “down there”.

Elizabeth sat in the chair, watching the mirror as the woman behind her combed the knots out of her hair, briefly tripping her thoughts over the strangeness of her situation. It wasn’t like her to follow a stranger to the ladies room for a touch-up. She was suddenly struck starkly by the intimate way that the woman was touching her locks. Alarmed that she had let things go this far, she had nearly gotten up the nerve to say that Julia had done enough, when Julia reached into her black canvas bag and pulled out a makeup kit.

“Turn your head to the left dear, I can’t see that part of your face well,” said Julia. It wasn’t a request, it was an admonishment, and Elizabeth was not about to risk offending this woman, strange as she was.

Her nose wrinkled as she smelled Julia’s aroma again, and then flared as she breathed deeply. This did not go unnoticed by Julia, who pressed closer as she applied little touches of mascara to Elizabeth’s eyelashes with her right hand. She began a sort of endless prattle, full of inane little observations... Elizabeth’s mind was screaming to get out of there, that this woman was some kind of pervert. Just another moment, though... can’t hurt..., thought Elizabeth, deeply ashamed to find that she was much more interested in the pervasive scent that was invading her head than in her revulsion at the thought of a lesbian overture.

She began to feel a sense of panic rising in her. Fear is not a sense, it’s a feeling... touch is a sense, and smell... she thought through her growing stupor. Her fear melted as she gave in to some deep compulsion to breathe deeply again, the scent filling her mind like a thick morning fog. She could hear Julia rambling on and on, and it sounded like the nonsensical jabbering of an auctioneer. After a time she quit listening entirely, letting Julia say whatever she wanted, as long as she kept the scent close.

At one point Julia had Elizabeth turn her head in the other direction and she smiled to herself as she watched the little vixen pixie stretch unconsciously toward her opposite underarm, her cute little pixie brow furrowed.

The banter droned on continually as Elizabeth faded in and out of being able to hear. Strange thoughts were floating around in her head. Wondering why she was engaged. She was so young. So much to experience. So many women, so little time. She jerked as the alien thought came to her, but relaxed as her head filled again with the scent of perfection. Strange thoughts come up all the time. Like getting engaged. To a man. A man like all the rest. Nameless. Faceless. Heartless. She jerked again in shock, only to bounce her nose again against the source of the heavenly scent. So many odd thoughts. Like why some people get engaged. To strangers they could never love. So lucky she never had. So lucky there were women who understood. So lucky there were lovely women. So lucky there were women to love. To breathe in deeply of. To fuck mindlessly. A tiny, sharp tremor passed through her, but passed quickly into the building heat in her dizzying brain and in her sopping cunt. Her thoughts were harder and harder to form into words—they were mostly feelings now... Love... scent of heaven... scent of Julia... Julia... heaven... Goddess... Julia’s slut... horny... worship... Julia... love... obey... She shivered coldly as a face she should have known, the face of a man, slipped into a mist of tangy aroma and disappeared.

Slowly, Elizabeth felt the fog lift and realized once more she was in a bathroom, seated in a chair. What was it I was doing... she managed to form through the fog. She looked up to see the Goddess sitting on the sink, her legs spread, her holy pussy open and glistening with dew.

Elizabeth sighed and breathed... as the now familiar scent, the scent she lived for, entered through her deeply breathing nostrils, she remembered why she was here. She was here to worship her Goddess, Julia.

Of course.

“Lick, cunt,” came the Holy Word of Goddess, “and be born again.” The words, echoing something deeply rooted inside her from childhood, mixed with her past and present and created a desire and heat she had never before felt. As she began to lick the Holy Wellspring, her own clit blossomed into a volcano of heat and passion... her fervor was unstoppable, her thirst for the nectar of her Goddess unquenchable, and she felt the heat spread through her entire body, infecting and changing her, her core being swept away and replaced, her purpose clear as the humming pleasure that was surging through her veins...

The Goddess began to chant her true name, “Yes slut, my slut, goddddddd yes my elfin cuntlapper...” Hips and mouth moved as one, the rhythm of the universe, the desire of countless mythical ages building to a peak that was brighter than any light Elizabeth had ever known, and she felt more than heard her Deity command her to cum... and as she came, her relenteless orgasm of fire and spirit washed away in a deluge of scented perfume the last vestiges of honor and decency... and she joyously embraced the miracle and her new definition of Godhead...

Julia licked her own juices from her heavily coated fingers, savoring the taste. Even now, the memory was strong enough to take her back as if she were there. Maybe I AM psychic, she mused. What would they call it though... telepafucking? Telefuckathy? Laughing, she raised herself from her chair and went to answer the phone that had been ringing insistently for the last half-hour.

“Goddess.”

Speak of the pixie! “Yes, my perverted little elf-cunt, you have news?”

As she listened, an evil smile grew across Julia’s face. For the second time in five minutes, Goddess Julia began to laugh... what a wonderful challenge her next conversion promised... and reaching down between her legs, took another lascivious helping of her own, sweet scented musk...