The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“A good time? Oh my God, Melissa, we drank so much that I’m surprised we survived. And you should have seen Sonia—we weren’t even there a whole day before she already had this skinny black dude all over her,” Cynthia said and her younger sister glared at her.

Cynthia had been my best friend since middle school. She and Sonia had just gotten back from spending a week in Punta Cana for spring break.

“She’s just jealous because Andre said that I was the one blessed with magical power, not her,” Sonia said.

She had just turned eighteen in February, and Cynthia was my age, twenty, so the trip with Cynthia had marked the first time that either of them could legally drink, thanks to the laws there. Combine that with the fact their parents let them go on the trip with no real adult supervision and I’d known even before they left that they were going to have a wild time.

Cynthia rolled her eyes. “He thought that you were the one blessed with a big white ass is more like it,” she said. “He fed you a line, and you ate it up.”

Sonia wasn’t quite fat exactly, but she’d always been on the few pounds-past-curvy side and, by contrast, her sister Cynthia was slim and fit. If Sonia was a bit chubby, it didn’t seem to hurt her love life any. Actually, it had always impressed me how often my friend’s foul-mouthed little sister had some good-looking guy crushing on her despite her obnoxious behavior.

In a lot of ways, the two of them were more different than alike. Where Cynthia had manners and style, her little sister was as crude and foul-mouthed as any skank that had ever slunk away from a trucker’s cab after earning twenty dollars the quick way.

“He didn’t just want to fuck; Andre said I had magical powers of attraction. He begged me to let him teach me voodoo.”

I’d seen guys use some pathetic lines to work a girl, but never by any claiming to be voodoo educators. “Free voodoo lessons, huh? It sounds like he was really into you. Isn’t that sort of reinforcing the stereotype, though?” I asked.

“What stereotype?” Cynthia asked.

“You know, the one about black guys going after chubby white sluts.”

“Fuck you, bitch,” Sonia said, and she glared at us as we both laughed. “We’ll see who’s laughing when I finish making my doll.”

That was when I first really noticed what Sonia had been working on since I’d arrived. It was a tiny doll made from what looked like small twigs arranged in the shape of a stick man.

“You’re making a voodoo doll?”

She nodded to me as she continued tying colorful strips of cloth around it, covering it, and filling out the shape of a tiny person. She was almost done by the looks of it.

“Ooooh, I’m so scared,” Cynthia said with a sarcastic tone that elicited another dirty look from her sister. She turned to me and said, “I’m going to change and fix my hair up a bit before we go.”

“You’re not serious about this, are you?” I asked Sonia, killing time while I waited for her sister to return.

“Of course I am—I’m making this doll exactly the way Andre taught me.”

“You do realize that a guy will tell a girl anything to get in her pants, right?”

“He wasn’t saying it because he was hot for me. I mean, well, of course he was hot for me, but that wasn’t the only reason he wanted to teach me.”

“You aren’t really dumb enough to believe in voodoo just because some Dominican guy told you that you were ‘blessed with magic’, are you?”

She kept her eyes down on her work as she continued fastening the little strips of material around the doll, but I could tell from her expression that she was annoyed with me.

“Go ahead and laugh, but Andre is a real voodoo priest, a bokor, and he said that I have powerful magic in me. He isn’t Dominican, either, he’s Haitian.”

“Sonia, if you believe in voodoo, then you’re dumber than I thought. There is no such thing as magic. You’d have to be disturbed or a moron, to buy into any of that hokum.”

“Don’t talk too much smack, Melissa. I’m just about done with this doll. All it needs is a little bit of hair from a victim and it’s ready to use,” she said, looking at me with a pointed little tilt of her head.

“Is that a threat? Oh no, I’m quaking in my boots.”

“You do not want me using this on you, trust me,” she said, and her voice had a grave tone to it.

She was so serious that I started to think she really believed she could do voodoo. I sensed much opportunity for future mockery in exploring this with her if I accepted her challenge.

“Actually, I do want you to use it on me. Go on; show off your magical power. I’m sure you’re going to end up being a famous voodoo priestess someday, and it will be a real honor to have been your first victim,” I said, making no attempt to hide my opinion of her magical powers.

“You don’t know what you’re messing with. I could make your life hell with this,” she said, waving the colorful little cloth stick man for emphasis as she spoke.

Sonia watched as I reached up to roll and pinch my hair between my fingers, separating out a few strands. I squinted with a quick blink of pain as I yanked the hairs free. Sonia’s eyes went wide as I held them out to her.

“You seriously don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“Really? I think it’s pretty obvious, I’m asking for you to do all the hoodoo-voodoo bullshit you want with my hair. Go on, do your worst.”

She looked at me, and then down at the hairs. “Fine,” she said, and she took the hairs and set about working on her doll.

Sonia wrapped the hairs around the doll’s head, one at a time, tying each off in a series of careful knots.

“Done,” she announced, holding it up for me to see.

A whiff of something dirty-smelling hit me as I leaned in to review her work, and I recoiled.

“I don’t know if it’s you or the doll, but something stinks,” I told her. “If it’s magic, go ahead and prove it. Do something to me with it.”

“It won’t start working yet. I still have to do a ritual with dirt and stones and salt.”

“Don’t you want to at least give it a try? I mean, with your being so magically gifted and all, what if it already works?”

Sonia regarded me again for a moment, placing her fingers like pincers around the tiny doll’s head. I smiled at her. “Go on, do it.”

She squeezed the head of the voodoo doll and I cried out. My hands came up to my temples, and I leaned forward with a groan.

“Holy shit,” she said, releasing her hold on the doll’s head. “Melissa? Are you fucking with me?”

I burst into laughter as I straightened up. I laughed so hard that it took me a moment to recover before I could lay into her. “Oh my god, you should have seen yourself. I can’t believe you could be stupid enough to buy whatever crazy line that chubby-chaser ran on you.”

“Bitch,” she said to me as her sister Cynthia returned.

“Like I said. There. Is. No. Magic,” I told Sonia, and she stormed off with the doll clutched in her hand, pushing past Cynthia.

“What was that about?” Cynthia said.

“Mostly your sister being a chump—she actually seems to believe she learned the mystical secrets of voodoo magic while you guys were on vacation.”

“Yeah, she’s been talking about that shit ever since she met that guy.”

“Better watch out, your sister is into black magic,” I said.

“Into black guys, more like. This magic business will pass, she’ll find some new obsession soon enough.”

“I have to give her credit, though—even though she’s a chub, she still always has some guy enthralled with her wherever she goes,” I said as we headed for the door.

Cynthia seemed to consider it for a moment before she responded.

“I think that’s because some dudes can’t pass up a desperate hippo when they see one. It’s like their penises come equipped with needy slut-radar or something.”

We laughed about Sonia halfway to the car, and then we moved on to other things and I forgot about Cynthia’s dorky sister.

That night I was lying in bed reading a novel when I felt warm. The room felt suddenly stifling, hotter by the moment. My skin tingled, and I realized I was sweating. It wasn’t until I felt my pussy go hot and slick that I realized that I was getting turned on.

It made little sense; I wasn’t at a particularly arousing spot in the book and it wasn’t like me to just get so heated up out of the blue, with no explanation.

My door was closed, though, and as my pleasure grew, I didn’t waste time figuring out why I was so horny. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I set down my book and slid my hand down into my panties. I rubbed myself and I found I was even wetter than I’d thought.

The heat continued to build from out of nowhere. I was so turned, I’d barely started working at my clit, but already I could feel myself chasing orgasm.

I was sweating so much that my face felt wet, and the air in the room seemed thick and scented with something strange. It was so steamy that it was hard to breathe, but I was focused on my pleasure. All that mattered was my sopping pussy and my swirling fingers.

It felt so good that it was like no masturbation session I’d ever had. Everything sped up so quickly, I was already stifling moans and thrusting my hips to meet my stroking hand. I was so hot, and so close. The air was thick and I couldn’t catch my breath but I didn’t care, because I was almost there. Hanging there at the edge, I struggled to push finally through, my fingers working harder still, but the release I needed, so desperately close, remained just out of reach.

It made no sense; if I was so turned on that my whole body thrummed with arousal, why couldn’t I come? My fingers rolled my clit again and again in the perfect rhythm, but it was like I’d hit some invisible ceiling that kept me just out of reach of ecstasy.

Without warning, my elusive orgasm arrived, hitting me with explosive force as if from out of nowhere. My back arched, and I flopped back, shuddering against my pillow as I came. The climax was so intense that I forgot myself as I shivered and shook and clenched with the force of it.

It was amazing, and it left me totally still but for breathing. I had come so hard that for a moment I felt frozen there in my pleasure, too tired to move a muscle.

The next night, it happened again. I awoke in the dark to a strange feeling that something wasn’t right. Something smelled funny in my room, and there was a strange humidity in the air. I was sweating, and I was horny to the point that I realized once more that my pussy was already wet.

It was just after midnight, and I must have had a naughty dream to have awoken to be so turned on. My hand slipped down between my legs. I was still aroused, and without thinking about it, I rubbed myself, chasing the heat left behind from the now-forgotten dream.

My heart rate accelerated, and the room felt warm as I got into it. I smelled something familiar yet not, and for a moment I worried that it was the smell of my own wetness but that couldn’t be, my sex was buried beneath the covers, my pajamas and my panties. There was something in my room that smelled, though, a smell like sweat and sex and it was dirty, but sort of hot too.

My pleasure grew as I masturbated, my breathing growing more ragged by the moment. Stifling my moans for fear my mother would hear, I worked my pussy harder and faster. I was already charging up the hill towards my climax when an odd taste hit my mouth. There was a strange tang to the flavor, but it only increased my arousal and it sent me rushing over the edge.

Groaning into my hand, I shuddered and quaked with the force of the immense orgasm that rocked me. It was a vivid eruption of sensation, the electric perfection of the moment so pure that I didn’t enjoy the pleasure as much as I was possessed by it. For a few seconds there was no me, only the intense, blazing hot glory that was joy beyond imagining.

Gasping for breath, I finally slowed my swirling fingers and relaxed, settling deeper into the pillow and bed as if I were melting there. Something happened then, as the aftershocks of the huge climax quivered through me, and I felt my already relaxed body grow even heavier still.

The weird smell and taste faded, and an overpowering sense of calm settled over me. Normally after I came, my body relaxed but my mind raced, to the point that it was hard to fall asleep for a time, but this something entirely different. I tried to pull my hand away from my sex, and it wouldn’t move. With rising horror, I realized that I couldn’t move my other arm or my legs either.

Somehow, I was paralyzed. It had been an amazing orgasm, but could it have been so powerful that I’d shorted out my nervous system? It wasn’t how I wanted my fifteen minutes of fame, not when the headline would read something like “Suburban Girl Masturbates Herself Into Paralysis”.

It was a strange sensation of disconnection from the world. There was no pain, not even any sort of numbness. I could still feel my arms and legs; I just couldn’t will them into action. As seconds ticked by, I grew more and more concerned. I really was paralyzed, and with my hand in my panties, no less. For a mortifying moment, I imagined my mother’s reaction when she found me not just immobile, but caught in the act of pleasuring myself.

Finally, I felt something change in me, a spark returning where previously there was none. My fingers and toes tingled slightly before returning to my control.

I pulled my hand out of my underwear with a sigh of relief. It hadn’t been long, maybe thirty seconds, or a minute at most, but it was terrifying to have felt so helpless.

For a long time I lay there worrying that I would freeze up again, but whatever the cause of the fit had been, it seemed to be over and after a while I fell back to sleep.