The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I was monitoring Cindi’s dreams now, more closely than ever. Her dreams were all gruesome nightmares. They were filled with Ares, towering over her, beating her, berating her, raping her, killing her.

Or at least they would have been if I had let them. I was inserting myself into her dreams, towering over Ares, dragging him off of her, beating the crap out of him, throwing him around like a rag doll. Eventually her dreams settled down a bit. Her subconscious had accepted that I would protect her, waking evidence from last night notwithstanding.

We were spooning as she awakened. She began to scream and thrash, visions of Ares filling her mind. I said, inside her head and into her ear at the same time, “Shhhhh. It’s okay. It’s me. You’re safe.”

Screams turned to sobs. She rolled over and hid her head in my chest. I wrapped my other arm around her and said everything I could think of to comfort her: “he’s gone”, “he’ll never come back”, “it’s all over”, “I’m here”, “I’m not going anywhere”, “let it all out”. I held her gently and kissed her tenderly.

She needed a savior. She needed a protector. I was the one who made Ares go away. I was still here. So I was the one. A wise man once said, “Man is not a rational animal, he is a rationalizing animal”. No one knew the truth of that bit of wisdom better than I did at that instant. I was the one who had brought Ares to the penthouse. I was the one who had allowed Ares to defile her emotionally and physically. She knew all that, and yet somehow I was still her hero, her rock, her shelter. I made him go away. I was still here. I was the one.

I could see that this new level of attachment would advance my plan in ways I couldn’t have imagined before. I should have been dancing on the inside. But instead I was consumed with guilt. I had done this to her.

Yes, I waterboarded her too. But I was inside her head both times. Believe me, what I allowed Ares to do to her was much, much worse than the waterboarding. I felt guilty, but I couldn’t be weak now. If she was going to bounce back from this in just another day, then I had to be the hero she needed me to be.

She had settled down some, and remembered that she has responsibilities as my slave. As she tried to push away from me, I spoke to her mind, «“Shhh. Not now. I know you love me. I know you are ... grateful to me. I know you want to serve me. But you have served well, very well. Serve me now by resting, by recovering your strength.“»

I seeded her with the image of her, last night, kissing away my tears. «“I may need that strength again some time.“»

She snuggled back into me, thinking warm thoughts that I didn’t deserve, planting soft kisses on my hairy chest as I held her closer. We both stunk of fear and exhaustion, but right now we were each other’s entire world.

She reached down between my legs. I wanted to tell her, again, that she didn’t owe me service right now, but looking into her head I saw that that was not the reason. She wanted to get the slimy feeling of sexual submission to Ares out of her head. She thought that sexual submission to me would help set her world on its axis again.

I found that I too wanted to get the slimy feeling of her sexual submission to Ares out of my head. Alright, we would do this then. As I pushed her onto her back and moved on top, she continued to hold my rigid member tightly, guiding my ship into her warm, welcoming harbor.

Her eyes were searching for something in mine. Love. She thought she had found it as I began slowly moving inside her. Something inside me hoped she was just fooling herself. Something inside me was afraid she wasn’t.

It was late afternoon. We had showered and fucked. We had brunched and fucked. We had talked, and then, for good measure, we fucked. Now she was in her happy place, lying atop me, breathing me in, drawing lazy circles on my hard chest and abs. I was playing with her hair and kissing the top of her head. I thought she would be okay. One more night watching her dreams to be sure, but that should do it.

The doorbell rang.

“My Lord?”

“I’m not expec—It’s Fred and Julia. Go fetch a robe, Cindi. I’ll throw on some jeans and a t-shirt and be out in a moment.”

“A robe?”

“Just do it.”

“Yes, My Lord,” she said with a strange smile. It was the first time she had worn clothing, well, other than the big chef’s apron, in the penthouse. Hell, in Falkirk. (No, smart-ass, the shoes and the collar and the necklace didn’t count. Oh! Right. She wore her uniform that one time too. Okay, then, the second time. Sheesh.)

At the door, Cindi met her friends with a big grin and a sweeping bow, “Welcome to My Lord’s abode, Sir and Madam.”

“Cor, luv, are you alright?” said Julia, embracing her immediately and tightly.

A memory of last night at its worst flashed through her mind. A look of fear briefly marred her lovely face. A single tear slid down her cheek, “I am ... I’m going to be.”

“Well, OI come bearing gifts.” Fred said with mock solemnity, crossing the threshold with two extra-large pizza boxes.

“Pizza delivery, now?” joked Cindi with a wide grin, “That therapy practice not working out for you, big guy?” They really had done more than just fuck for two hours after that game of H-O-R-S-E the other day.

As I was emerging from the bedroom the two women automatically turned to kneel, until I waved them off. It was high time I got it all out in the open now. “To what do we owe this unexpected ... pizza?”

Fred looked sheepish. “Just a bit concerned about Cindi ... and you, Master.”

“And me?”

“And you.”

“Why don’t we take this outside? It’s nice today.” I said.

Julia and Fred exchanged glances. Julia said, somewhat reluctantly, “Master, do you mind if Cindi and I eat inside? At the table?”

Fred wanted to talk to me alone. ”sigh Fine.“

Julia slid off the top box and said over her shoulder, “C’mon, Cindi. Gehl talk.”

Cindi looked at me, smirked and shoulder-shrugged and followed. I was about to be probed and lectured by one of my slaves. It was actually amusing in a way. “Well, Fred, let’s see what secrets you can pry out of this twelve-thousand-year-old mind.”

Fred was only twenty-five, younger than Greg. And only a junior psychologist in his therapy/counselling practice. He would never have made my doctor’s “list” of top analysts, or Fenton’s for that matter. But there was no other trained therapist in easy reach who already knew about me and the Ten Thousand. Maybe something good would come of this. I could certainly cut it off anytime I wanted.

As Fred and I headed outside I heard Julia raise her voice, “If you won’t sit in a chair and eat from a plate like a human being, I’m going to scream!” In her head I told Cindi it would be okay. They grabbed plates and sat at the table.

“So, Julia tells me last noight was a little ...”

“Intense?” I supplied.

“Horrific.”

“I see.”

“You apparently wehn’t too happy about it y’self.”

“Oh? Can you read minds now, Doctor McKenna?“

A look of annoyance crossed his face. He had a Masters in Psych, not an MD or Ph.D. He knew I was just jerking his chain, so he continued, “Julia saw you palming the Tums ... and ... um ... the croying was hard to miss.”

“Ah.”

“It’s just that none of us have ever seen you do anything ... ANYTHING ... that you didn’t want to do. You clearly didn’t want to do what you did last noight.“

“There’s a world of difference between wanting and needing.”

His voice became a low hiss. “What could possibly make you need to give one of us to that sadistic son of a bitch?” How quickly Cindi had become one of the Ten Thousand, even though she was only sharing time in Annette’s body.

“I have enemies Fred, serious, deadly, powerful enemies. I’m playing a very dangerous game to turn the tables on them. Sometimes I have to do things that sicken me.”

“So is that the whole story behoind Cindi too? That you don’t want to treat her loike an animal, loike a whore, loike a harem slave, but you need to? Chroist, Master, if any of us treated our women loike that you’d have us in the dungeon in a hahtbeat.“

Fred knew my dungeon well. He saw the inside of it more than once as a teenager. “So is that the problem here, Fred? I don’t let you beat your wife enough?”

A wicked grin crossed Fred’s face. “Well, maybe sometimes. She can be a cheeky bitch ... and a roight stickybeak too!“

Through Fred’s eyes I could see Julia staring out at us intently. Fred was right; she was being nosey. She was actually trying to read our lips. She quickly turned back to Cindi, her face flushing bright red.

“But seriously. Does Cindi know that she’s a chess piece in this sick little game of yours?”

“It’s not sick.”

Fred gave me a look.

“Not any more sick than it has to be.”

The look again.

“Okay, I let something slip about a ‘plan’ once, but nothing more than that, no. Look, when the time comes, I’m going to need her reactions to be completely genuine, completely natural, completely ... frankly ... terrified. There are things she just can’t know.”

“Master, um, this is just a stupid oidea off the top of moy head. Julia tells me that you’ve had her playing at still being Majestic Woman for over a week, when just the thought of being Majestic Woman was making her break down and croy. Roight in front of Julia! Has she, ah, disappointed you any at that?”

“No, she’s been amazing, flawless. She knows she’s just wearing Majestic Woman like a shell, like makeup, but she has never missed a beat, well, not for more than an instant or two anyway.”

“So what makes you think that she can’t play ‘completely terrifoied’ as well as she plays ‘Majestic Woman’, especially with last noight to use as a benchmark?”

“What’s your point, Fred?”

“Tell her! Tell her what the fuck is going on. Tell her what you need her to do. You know she loves you. You know she’ll do it, whatever it is,” the grin returned as he added, “Boy the way, OI’d loike you to tell me too, but you don’t owe that to me. You do owe it to her, and OI think you know it.“

“Is that all?”

“Well, you moight want to tell her the rest.”

“The rest?” It had actually been a bit amusing to watch the play of emotions across his face, especially since I had known that what he was about to say was what he had really wanted to tell me all along.

Muttering, “How is it that the wehld’s only telepath cahn’t read his own moind?” Now normal, conversational, straining not to be condescending, “Master, Bloind Freddy can see that you’re in love with this gehl. Why don’t you just tell her?”

“I’ll take your suggestions under advisement, Counsellor. Did you have anything else you wanted to get off of your chest?”

“No, OI guess that about covers it. Oh, OI’d appreciate a heads-up the next toime you plan to expose moy woife to a mad supervillain. That’s all then.”

“Okay, I can promise you that. Why don’t we invite the girls out here before Julia has an aneurysm?”

“Sounds foine to me.”

«“Cindi, Julia, come on out here, bring the rest of the pizza. It’s a beautiful evening. And bring a couple of bottles, a cork screw, and some glasses.“»

“Ten million is not enough, My Lord. You’ll have to charge at least fifty million bucks to hook the fish you want.”

It was later that evening. Fred and Julia had gone home. The city skyline glittered around us. Cindi was wearing a mischievous grin. I had laid out the plan to her. I was quite amazed. She had embraced it. She even had suggestions.

“Are you sure you’re not just trying to cut down on the number of takers?”

“No, My Lord, I’m sure it will still be quite awful. Men like that can be very ... creative,” she said with surprising bravado, especially considering what she had gone through just last night. She really was heroic, even without the super-powers.

She paused. Her tone changed, became more serious, “You’re certain that they’re evil.”

Ah, finally we got to the heart of the matter. The “they” she meant were not the “fish” she had just referred to. “They” were the other group we had been talking about. “They held back the era of Greek genius for hundreds of years,” I said, “Imagine Homer, Plato, Socrates, Pythagoras, Aristotle, Archimedes, all born fifteen generations earlier, twenty generations earlier. Look at how everything flowered after I forced them into hiding.”

She was still not convinced. Well, after all, as far as she knew the Olympian “Gods” had only done good things for her. A different tack then, “Look, they enslaved thousands—I know, I know—but I mean truly, deeply enslaved with no will of their own at all. I, at least, give good lives to my herd, as much as I can. But your ‘Gods’ worked their slaves into early graves and then just enthralled more.

“They showed up in Greece suddenly and took over, claiming to be much more ancient and powerful than they really were. They started pointless wars, killed countless thousands, for no good reason that I can tell. Maybe it entertained them to watch people slaughter each other.”

“And they really look like this?” indicating my hand drawing.

“Yes, funny, isn’t it. But only for a second or two, then the glamour takes over and they look like, well, Greek Gods.”

“And everything they can do, you think that’s some kind of, of, technology? ... My Lord?” Alarm flickered across her briefly. Now she was self-conscious that I would chastise her for saying “My Lord”.

A pained look did cross my face, but I hid it quickly. It would happen when it happened. “I didn’t used to think so. At the time I just thought it was magic. But none of the ‘Gifts of the Gods’, even those as amazing as your gifts, or Themiscyra’s, are any more amazing than the Uenan technologies or powers that the Magic Lamp Corps has brought to Earth.“

“So you think they are aliens—”

“Probably rogue aliens. Hiding out from other aliens that have been searching for them for millennia.”

This was going to be hard, but I had to bring it up. “Ares ...” She cringed involuntarily and started to shiver.

I held her tighter. “Shh, shh. Ares was a mistake. I needed him out of the way. I needed him neutralized. But I should have just killed him. It would have been much harder, much more difficult, to kill him than to make that awful deal that I did ... with your mind and body! But—”

Shivering still, she asked, “He’s never coming back?”

I looked at her again and my heart broke. I had ridden along in her mind for more than seven decades. I knew her. Intimately. I had never seen her this weak, this frightened, this vulnerable, this ... small. I had just praised her in my mind for being heroic even without her superpowers. There was no trace of that heroism now. My guilt almost overwhelmed me. It would have been easy to tell her some comforting lie, but ... but she deserves the truth.

“He’s mad, so I can’t guarantee that he won’t try. I can guarantee that if he ever gets within a mile of you, within ten miles of you. I’ll kill him. I don’t think he’ll do that. He was on the verge of just letting go of everything ‘big’ and just becoming a much less harmful garden-variety sadist sociopath. He’s done that before. That’s why Scotland Yard never found Jack the Ripper. However, when you appeared on the scene, he decided he had to have you. Nothing else would do.

It has something to do with the Amazons. He was the, ah, founder and ruler of old Themiscyra. He instituted the original “pack horse” female slavery system that Hippolyta was born into. He thinks he might even be, um, Hippolyta’s father.”

She gasped. “Ares is my grandfather?”

“Who knows? Family structures were so fragmented in old Themiscyra nobody really knew who their parents or children were. Actually it just seems like a perverse kind of arrogance to me. ‘The only woman who could have been powerful enough to defeat me must have been my own daughter’, or something like that.”

She grew quiet. One more mystery about her life that might never be solved.

I continued, not wanting to dwell on that mystery. “In any case now that he has had you, he should be out of the picture. But I won’t take any chances. If he tries to come back, I’ll eliminate him. Even if I have to kill an innocent to do it.“

She felt safer, but that last bit disturbed her. She didn’t want to think about the death of an innocent. She wanted to change the subject. “And he’s not a God?”

“You’ve always suspected that, and you’re right. He’s a demigod, like Heracles, like Hades, like you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, Kynthia of Themiscyra, Daughter of Heracles and Hippolyta. You are the last, or at least the most recent, of the demigods. A normal human, given special powers by those twisted bastards. Usually they fuck with their minds too, but in your case there were too many people around for them to get away with that.”

She was lost in thought for a long, long time. It was a lot to take in. “I still want to be with you. I still want to belong to you. I still want to be your slut, your slave, your pet—”

I put a finger to her lips. “I want that too. Or ... something like that. I love you,” It was not the first time I had said it tonight, but now my heart caught in my throat. I continued somewhat more hoarsely, “but you understand that it may not work out that way.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “Yes, My—Yes. I do.”

“So, let’s make the most of the time we have.”

A lascivious smirk lit up her face. It was a strange juxtaposition with her still-flowing tears. “Yes. By all means. Let’s.”

I stood up. She took my hand. We went inside.

“Oh, I think I’ve figured out a role for Blake in this mad scheme of yours.” She was trying to protect her friend. For some reason that annoyed me, but I could at least hear her out. She wanted to give me a reason not to kill him. But this “role” she had in mind was still jumbled, not well-formed.

“So what can the Wraith do for our plan?”

“Let me think about it more, My ... I’ll get back to you.”

We looked into each other’s eyes. We were done with words for a while.