The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Dreams and Nightmares

Chapter 2

Entering his home after work, John turned and locked the door, throwing the deadbolt with a firm, satisfying clunk. He leaned his forehead against the door, breathing deeply as a relative sense of peace and safety washed over him for the first time today.

What the hell was wrong with him? John had never had a panic attack in his life, and yet the entire day had seemed to be one paranoid encounter after another. He had felt clausterphobically trapped in his office; he had felt overwhelmed when in the smallest group of people; he was seized with indecision when faced with having to make the simplest decisions. Not his finest day, he decided with a bitter smile.

And then there was the fact that he was still aroused from this morning. His morning erection had not gone away, but pulsed with need, sensitive to every pressure and caress, constantly demanding his attention. He had found it impossible to concentrate on anything except the nearest woman at any given moment, and what she may or may not be wearing underneath her skirt.

The images and fantasies that had sprung up in conjunction with those contemplations had disturbed him. He had always been a quiet, sensitive guy, patient and attentive to the needs of the few lovers he had had over the years. But the entire day he had imagined taking women and tying them down, hurting and humiliating them, and then thrusting brutally into any convenient orifice until and only until his consuming needs were met. He had even sent his secretary home early—that little fucking slut with her short, spiky hair, stiletto heels, and “come hither” eyes; John bet he knew what she had done as soon as she left, was probably still doing right now, her round breasts heaving with every quivering gasp as she serviced whatever fucking stranger she had whored herself out to this evening—since he had been truly worried that at some point he would not be able to control himself around her, and might do something that would definitely get him fired or arrested.

His hips rolled forward and back unconsciously, the cotton of his underwear gently shifting, prviding the smallest amount of stimulation to his insubordinate dick. Although little more than a tease, this action at least eased his need enough for him to think clearly for a moment. He needed to figure out what to do, how he was going to address this problem. Ordinarily when he was anywhere near this horny, he’d just whack off…but no. Not after this morning. He had already tried that, and…it hadn’t helped.

He needed to find another way to work off his tension and frustration. So he headed down to the basement where he kept his weight bench. He pulled off his dress shirt and undershirt, not bothering to change into actual sweats. In his eagerness to focus on something, anything else, he simply loaded weights onto the bar, then slid onto the bench still wearing his work slacks. They would get sweaty, but the cleaners could take care of that.

He spent several hours in his basement, concentrating on his movements, tiring his body out. No longer in his twenties but still with a boyish face, John made a point of keeping moderately fit. Still, he pushed himself much harder than normal, unwilling to end this form of meditation and return to the questions that had plagued him all day.

At last, he could barely lift the bar off his chest anymore and knew it was time to stop. He felt wonderfully drained, almost too tired to think. He would be sore in the morning, but he could live with that.

But his cock was still rock hard. He could feel all of the lust, the desire that had crashed through him the entire day swirling around his consciousness. John tried to push all of that down, deeper into his psyche as he sought to avoid facing them.

Climbing the stairs out of the basement, John stripped off the rest of his clothes, now soaked in sweat, as he walked over to the bathroom to rinse off in the shower. Afterwards he dried himself and threw on a soft pair of pajama pants, the front fabric of which stretched out over the post of his erection like the top of a tent. He went to the kitchen and drank a large glass of water.

He could feel his thoughts roiling at the edge of his consciousness, pushing in, trying to fill his mind with the burning desire that had consumed him all day. His limp muscles and weary mind cried out for sleep, but something within him rebelled, refusing to let go of the waking world.

“Fuck this! And all over some idiot dream,” John snarled. He had a meeting in the morning, and work to do after that. He was not going to let some imaginary fucking bitch run his life from a dream.

Wrenching open one of the drawers, John rooted around until he found the small plastic bottle he sought. Unscrewing the child-proof lid, he shook out a valium and placed it on the counter. Next he reached up for his bottle of Maker’s Mark and poured himself a stiff drink. He drummed his fingers on the counter while he considered this combination nightcap.

Like this morning, a small voice in his head screamed at him not to do this, that this was far more dangerous than he knew. But at that moment John felt the storm in his mind of lust and depravity pulsed inward, seeking access back into his thoughts, promising nothing but the continuation of this day’s torture. His still rigid cock throbbed in unison with the pulsing storm in his mind.

John took a long drink of the bourbon. He told himself that this was just one bad day, and that everything would be back to normal as soon as it was over. He looked at the small pill on the counter, then placed it in his mouth and washed it down with several more swallows of alcohol. Then he went straight into his bedroom, crawling onto the mattress and pulling the covers tight around him.

* * *

He felt the dream begin. John was just watching the wall of swirling mist that always provided the border of his dream world, then slowly watched it swirl and part. She emerged slowly...first one milky thigh, then the rest of the leg attached to it, next her luscious breasts, and finally those dark and burning eyes surround by flaming hair. She lifted her chin in arrogant superiourity as she observed him, her face lit by a look of sadistic pleasure.

A short silk robe was all she wore tonight, the dark fabric shimmering in the light of his dream, light from a source he could not quite distinguish. The robe was snugged around her slender waist with a simple sash that succeeded in just barely holding the garment closed over her breasts, although the fabric hung loosely enough to provide a delicious teasing vision of those soft mounds. The hem of the robe similarly danced across the top of her thighs, seemingly short enough that one strong lust-filled thought could force the shimmering fabric aside and expose the woman’s sex.

John slowly became aware that he was looking down upon his own bedroom. He could see himself lying on his bed, the blankets kicked away so that he lay exposed before her devouring gaze save for the thin fabric of the pajamas that covered him from the waist down. The redhead slowly strode to the foot of his bed, her movements lithe and delicious, as if every gesture was part of an erotic dance. A cruel smile played on her lips as she observed his sleeping body...this night’s prey. One crimson-clawed hand came up to toy with the edge of her robe, pulling it almost wide enough that one breast fell completely free of the whispering silk. A single ruby nail trailed softly across the pale flesh of that breast, and the redhead’s eyes closed ever so slightly in pleasure at the sensation.

Then the woman looked up at him, her eyes searing through his very soul. She no longer looked at his sleeping body, but at him...his psyche, his spirit, his night-self. Whatever part of him that was observing this scene, whatever part of him that was now experiencing a terror that seemed almost indistinguishable from true madness. John knew that she was aware of him. Her smile grew even more feral, and John realized that he had been wrong before. Now the seductress was observing this night’s true prey as her eyes burned up at him in whatever ethereal vantage point he occupied while witnessing his own damnation.

I have come, as you requested.

The presence of those words in his mind was so shocking that it literally rendered John incapable of thought for a moment. He knew they had not been physically spoken; his eyes had been fixed on the redhead, and those smiling, snarling lips had never moved. Instead, he actually felt the words form inside his mind. They blossomed there, like an orchid in their beauty and the sensuality they conveyed. Like a weed, in their unwantedness and their rapid spread through his mind. Like poison ivy, in their vileness and the black infection they carried to whatever they came in contact with.

And he felt that infection working through him, spreading heat and lust and darkness. His half-dormant erection responded eagerly, as if black poison was being pumped directly into his cock. Vaguely, John realized he could distinctly feel his erection hardening, even though he was looking down at his own body as his cock swelled underneath the fabric of his pants. As if to underscore the point, the seductress moved around his bed, elegantly reached out a hand and trailed the tip of one fingernail across his chest until it perched on top of his erect nipple. John could feel every tickling inch of her caress, and his cock as it twitched in response.

The disjointedness of this experience finally broke through the numb shock that had paralyzed his mind. Thought flooded back, and he wanted to thrash and flail and flee...but he floated above without his body to act for him. He wanted to scream out that he had never called her, that he did not know what she was talking about.

Of course you know, the words grew again like a fungus in his mind. You called out to me, begging to be made a slave. I came to you three times, showing you the ecstasy that I offer. And after that third night you accepted as others have throughout eternity: you pleasured yourself while thinking of me. You wanted me, wanted what I can give. You begged for my gift as ferociously as you imagined fucking me. Her eyes closed and her head leaned back in remembered pleasure, as her hands moved to the sash that held her robe closed. It has been a very long time since someone called as powerfully as you did. I can still feel the delicious power of it. You will make an excellent servant for my needs.

With sick dread, a part of John knew the truth of what she had said. He had masturbated that morning thinking of her, of claiming her and her treasures in the most forceful and depraved manner he could conceive of. He had known it was wrong, even dangerous; the part of him that now hovered above his bed had tried to warn the rest of his psyche to stop. But at the time all he had wanted was release, no matter how it came.

And that is what I offer you...release. Release from your mundane reality. From cares and worries, from the burden of responsibility for decisions and their outcomes. You will welcome me, and I will give you an eternity of ecstasy.

A part of him actually melted as that last word hissed in his mind. Desire began to grow, then to blaze within him as he surveyed the seductress. John could feel the dark lust radiating off of her, permeating his being. It made him feel strong as he began to relax and let her power wash over him...

The sane part of John’s mind screamed out in both terror and denial. He wanted to tell this vixen that he didn’t want her gifts. He only wanted to be left alone, and not turned into some mindless slave.

The woman looked up at him and made a melodramatic pout, her full lips puckering deliciously. Her eyes betrayed this teasing expression though, losing none of the commanding hunger that fired them. Very well, her words danced within his mind. I understand. Some individuals are simply too repressed to allow themselves such pleasure. It is a shame you are one of those. You would have made such a...delicious subject.

But I am easily vanquished, the woman assured him. She trailed her crimson nails lightly down his chest and abdomen, and John both felt the tickling light caress and watched from above as the muscles of his abdomen rippled in response. Then she moved her hand to the sash of her robe, and with one deft flick of her wrist the belt was undone and the silk whispered its way down her body. The pretense of a subservient pout became too much for her to endure, and those red lips twisted into the feral snarl that chilled John’s soul. All you have to do is wake up.

In all of his previous dreams, John realized he had never actually seen the woman’s body completely naked. Now it blazed before him, searing him with its unholy beauty. Divine was almost the appropriate word, except that to apply it to this depraved whore would clearly have been blasphemous. She was petite, but always seemed to loom over you somehow. Her skin was perfect porcelain, uncreased and flawless. The paleness of her body was contrasted perfectly by the scarlet hair that blazed around her, spilling over her shoulders and breasts until it reached the small of her back. Her hair seemed to be constantly shifting, as if there was a breeze that only touched her…or as if her locks possessed an anger and hunger of their own. The nipples that crowned her ample breasts were erect with trapped blood and were almost as red as her hair and fingernails, a more intense shade than would be found on any ordinary woman. Her stomach was tight and flat, subtle contours highlighting her womanly curves. Her sex was shaved nude, which gave no impression of youth or innocence as one might expect; somehow it only added to her sense dominance and raw sensuality. Finally, legs that seemed to go on forever stretched down into the mist that John’s dream.

Her body did not glow brighter, but instead somehow everything around her seemed to dim and darken until she was the only thing you could make out clearly, and so that your attention was per force drawn to her. The effect seemed to cause a…diminishing of himself, as if he faded and shrank along with the rest of the room.

Her magnficence was so overwhelming that John almost lost her final sentence, the one that held his last possible hope. It took his entire concentration to resist the hideous desire he felt for her, to remind himself that he did not want her to ravish him. John bent all of his will to resisting the lust that threatened to obliterate him and then tried to reach out, desperately searching with his mind for some way to connect to his body.

He knew he had little time to learn how this dreamworld worked, a fact made perfectly clear as ruby talons slid underneath the waist band of his pajama pants and began to pull down. John could feel the fabric slide down his legs and then just…evaporate, as his now unneeded clothing dissolved away into the dream. Now freed, his erect cock sprang into the air, meeting with the seductress’s haughty approval. John saw his damnation in the utter confidence with which she surveyed his nude form.

The woman slid onto the bed, pressing her body against John’s sleeping form. Her tongue slid over her lips in debauched hunger, and her eyes once more turned upwards to find where John’s psyche was observing this scene. Her tongue continued to trace the path of her upper lip from one corner of her mouth to the other, then back again.

I can feel you struggling. Why? Submit to me, and you will know pleasure beyond imagining. To emphasize her words, the woman leaned over his cock and devoured his member into her mouth in one slow swallow.

His body arched and a gasp was torn from his lungs as his dick slid smoothly into her throat. Red hair slithered over his pelvis, and John suddenly thought of the woman as a serpent…one that was swallowing him whole. One that would swallow his soul whole. She raised her head very slowly, and John could feel every exquisite sensation as his cock throbbed in her throat. She lowered her head once more, and in terror John watched the expression on his face smooth with pleasure as he felt the beginnings of an orgasm building within his body.

The whore unhurriedly rose up and released his now lubricated cock. Her pointed tongue made one last lick along his stiff rod, from balls to ultra-sensitive glans. She looked up at his vantage point with a sneer. No…I hope you don’t submit. I think I’d rather enjoy taking you by force. Raping you while you gaze on helplessly.

John tried to sob, but could not draw breath. He wanted to flee, but knew that would be useless. He screamed in his mind, screamed at his body to wake up. He begged for any sort of control. He even prayed for salvation.

The woman straddled his waist with her legs, then delicately pressed her nether lips lightly against the head of his penis. She glared at his psyche in derision. Your god cannot help you, came the fetid words into his mind. The seductress flexed her hips, massaging her engorged clit with the point of his prick. You forsook any possibility of divine intervention when you courted your damnation. Like it or not, you called out to me. Called out to the darkness you knew I would bring. It is far too late for second thoughts. She arched her back in pleasure, hair spilling around her in a crimson haze of pleasure, as she continued her maddening foreplay. He was aware of every agonizing caress, but somehow the sensations did not bring his climax any closer. Instead it only caused him to ache for release.

You know what you have to do to banish me. You just have to wake up.

Being driven insane is not always an easy thing. The mind will protect itself, using any number of tricks to block out unwanted truths. Having been faced with obliterating terror for what seemed an eternity, John’s psyche teetered on the brink of utter collapse. In a final effort to save himself, John’s subconscious simply chose to ignore the overwhelming fear battering down upon him. Instead, his mind focused itself upon a single emotion of its own choosing: rage.

The entirety of John’s being seemed to focus on that one thought. He raged at his own stupidity. He raged at his own weakness. Most of all, he raged at his sleeping body as it lay there useless. He wanted to throttle his own neck. He imagined reaching out, pummeling himself, his rage erupting forth as he tried to brutalize himself.

And for a moment, the expression of slowly intensifying desire on the face as his body lay on the bed faltered. His brow drew together and his mouth twisted in displeasure.

In that instant, hope sprang forth within him. He had made some sort of connection with his body. It was possible that he could survive! He was about to redouble his efforts when he felt an invading hiss of pleasure slither through his mind.

The seductress had stopped, surprised, her cunt hovering over his quivering cock. Yesss…, her voice hissed into his mind again. What strength. Yes…release your power. Her eyes were once more afire with carnal hunger, the time for teasing foreplay obviously over. I will consume it all. Give it to me. Her chin lifted as she glared at him, arrogant and commanding. You will be mine. With that, she impaled her cunt upon his rock hard erection.

The pleasure shook John to the core of his being. The warm, wet velvet of her body embraced his cock, massaged it, pulsed around it. John’s psyche was almost swept away completely, but his mind had already developed the tactic that saved him in that instant: despite the sinister ecstasy that crashed over him, he resisted all other sensations and focused only on his rage. He shrieked at his body as he continued to direct at thoughts of inflicting pain to himself. Punching, kicking, throttling…anything that he could think of that would force himself awake.

The woman rocked her hips back and forth, grinding her pelvis against John’s body as her hands moved to cup and caress her flawless breasts. With every violent thought John directed upon himself, the whore’s own obvious pleasure grew. Yet John could see he was winning. He looked down upon his body on the bed, and saw his expression pinch with anxiety. Then his eyelids fluttered for an instant, and fell closed again. But John knew it was possible. All he had to do was wake up.

I have not feasted like this in centuries. Yes…more my darling. I will rape the power out of you, and you will be one of my most magnificent slaves.

The woman lowered her hands to brace herself against the shoulders of his still-sleeping body and began to raise and lower her body along his cock. She quickly increased her pace, her body lithe poetry in motion as her movements pleasured them both. The temptress seemed again to almost glow as her lust grew, as the rest of the world dimmed even further. John could feel her power, her darkness creeping upon him, wrapping itself around and trying to pull him down into the vile depths. Worse, he could once more feel his orgasm building within his body. He was in a race, and he sharpened his thoughts still further, kindling his rage into it burned white hot, hot enough almost to sear the sickly black tendrils of sexual hunger that gripped at him.

His body began to stir, one hand making a feeble, lethargic attempt to fend off the woman. His eyelids fluttered again, almost opening for an instant. But still a thick shroud of sleep hung over him, a self-induced molasses of physical exhaustion, valium and alcohol that he had to struggle through. He swept away his frustration and again refocused on his rage, on the only power he had to save himself.

All you have to do is wake up, the woman taunted him viciously, intentionally fueling his fury. Her body arched and flexed with exertion, hair thrashing around her, breasts heaving with every shuddering breath. One hand moved down between her legs, and she began to furiously masturbate even as she again sped up her pistoning. She looked up to where his consciousness hovered, one smoldering eye burning through his soul while the rest of her face was hidden by the bloody shroud of her hair. But you don’t have long…

John knew it was true. He was so close…his body stirred again, shifting beneath the woman, and his mouth mumbled something vaguely negative. But he could feel the whore’s hunger, the lust swirling around him, the dark passion trying to drown the white light of his rage. His climax drew ever nearer, and now John had to divide his attention: both to force his body awake but also to fight off his imminent orgasm. But he refused to submit to this fate.

The seductress’s throaty gasps of pleasure, grotesque in their absolute eroticism, spread their dark infective lust with every passing instant. Her hand worked furiously against her naked clit as her body rammed against the weakly stirring man beneath her. John knew his time was up. As the demoness rose up and crushed herself down upon him one last time, John focused his every thought and strength into one desperate point, stabbing out towards his body even as the redhead ground her sex against the base of John’s cock.

There was a shudder in his testicles, then another. In the next instant, the redhead’s cunt began to spasm with ecstasy, and John’s orgasm erupted forth from him. His last blazing thought was devoured by the ravenous darkness, drowned in an ocean of lust and desire. Who and what John was ceased to exist as the most powerful orgasm of his life coursed through his body in concert to that of the woman who had obliterated him. Their climaxes enhanced and fed off of each other for what seemed an eternity…

* * *

He felt the dream begin. The dreamslave opened his eyes and found himself in a bedroom he found vaguely familiar. Everything seemed softer now, less substantial. The edges of objects blurred slightly, sounds seemed slightly distant and echoey, and the eternal mist pervaded all.

The Queen was standing across the room, the only thing that was sharp and distinct to his senses. Her hair blazed around Her, shifting gently as if in a breeze, framing a look of absolute satisfaction as She witnessed his birth. She gestured vaguely towards Her side, and the dreamslave felt the utter obedience that careless motion demanded burst forth within him.

Quickly moving to his hands and knees, the dreamslave crawled across the bed and onto the floor, his now permanent erection swaying with his movements. He crouched obediently at his Queen’s feet, wrapping his arm around one divine, endless leg and pulling close to Her.

Red-taloned fingers played through his hair, and the dreamslave almost literally purred. He gazed up adoringly at his Queen, Her sadistic expression of triumph making his dick quiver with need. Then the Queen looked up, and the dreamslave followed Her gaze.

For the first time, he was aware there had been other observers to his damnation and blessed rebirth, other ghostly observers that floated above, their dreams invaded and subverted to Her will. Terror radiated from them in intoxicating waves. Terror, and repressed but undeniable desire. The dreamslave felt each of them calling out to Her in their need for release, even as they recoiled in horror at what they were doing. The delicious paradox made his lips curl into a pleased snarl, while a hungry and predatory growl formed in the back of his throat.

The observers seemed to be bound as if to crossed beams, presenting themselves spread-eagle to Her inspection. There was a large and powerfully built black man, his impressive member at rigid attention, tears streaming down his face as he whimpered in despair. He would make an excellent addition to the Queen’s service, but not until he was first broken into a shuddering, incoherent shell of a person. Then the Queen would simply jerk off his helpless and unresisting body, which would be the ultimate humiliation for this man: that with all of his obvious physical strength, he wouldn’t even be able to stop some waifish, redheaded Whore from playing with his dick. Wouldn’t be able to stop from cumming in Her hand in an embarrassingly short period of time. Wouldn’t be able to stop Her from smearing his thick cum over his own lips and tongue. Then he would know true subservience, and be able to fully accept her gifts. But he wasn’t ready yet.

There was a slightly balding, middle-aged man, his pallid skin stretched over fifteen years worth of unexercised girth. Jutting out of his scraggly and greying pubic hair was a small erection that did not come close to projecting further than his beer gut did. This man seemed nearly catatonic, with almost a look of acceptance on his face. The dreamslave realized this man would never be accepted by the Queen, but had instead been chosen for some inscrutable reason to be terrorized in perpetuity.

The dreamslave felt something akin to pity for the poor bastard, but there was no actual remorse in his emotion; instead, it was the laughing, spiteful “pity” a boy might feel as he realizes it must really suck to be the fly he just pulled the wing off of, that the poor creature must be suffering exquisitely, even as the boy smilingly reaches out to commit further torture by rending the second wing from the small body. Blessed nightmares every single night depriving him of any meaningful rest, then stumbling through the day barely able to remain conscious, and all the while his pathetic little penis pointing out and begging for a release that surely She would never allow...this man’s life must be absolute hell. The thought made the dreamslave clutch tighter to the Queen’s leg, feeling her power surround him, reveling in her cruelty.

Finally, there was a lovely Asian girl watching them. Reed thin with small but attractive breasts, pale skin, and long jet black hair that clung to sweat-damp skin. The dreamslave looked at her and understood her completely. A spoiled little rich girl, always part of the ‘in’ crowd, never having wanted for anything other that something to dispel her ever growing boredom. She pissed off her parents for sport, had dabbled in drugs and sex, even taken up shoplifting and committing other petty offenses to pass the time…always relying on her daddy’s money and her own exquisite beauty to see her through any trouble. Each new fad grew tiresome more and more quickly and she would reach deeper, searching for something ever darker to fulfill her needs. And those dark prayers had finally been heard, and this girl would soon learn just how deep she could descend.

The Queen looked into the girl’s wide, almond-shaped eyes and gave her a smile filled with wickedness and promise. The girl stared back, a look of deep fear on her face but her nipples clearly erect.

Snarling in pleasure, the dreamslave continued to stare into the helpless girl’s eyes and then slowly reached his tongue, stretching it obscenely for the girl. Then he pressed his tongue, wide and flat and moist, against the Queen’s leg and licked his devotion slowly up Her thigh. He nuzzled his nose into the soft, hairless folds of Her sex, inhaling deeply. One clawed hand reached down and pressed his head into Her firmly, and he instantly obeyed by pushing his tongue through delicious, velvety folds of flesh as he sought to fulfill the only purpose of his existence: to serve the Dream Queen’s pleasure.

He knew that for now She would spare him only the minute amount of attention necessary to acknowledge his ministrations. The rest of Her attention would assuredly be fixed on her next victim, Her eyes conveying all of the tortures and pleasures that awaited the girl.

The dreamslave knew absolutely that the girl would awaken both in terror and in an arousal that she could not control. The girl at some point would plunge her delicate hands between her legs, furiously working her aching pussy, while with every stroke of her engorged clit a part of her called out her desire and need. Then finally, he knew, the girl would push herself over the brink, screaming and moaning in pleasure, as every shuddering wave of ecstasy that washed over her proclaimed her acceptance of the Queen’s dark offer of enslavement.

The complete certainty he felt of this scenario drove him mad with desire as the last vestiges of rational thought left him forever. He growled in need, his tongue redoubling its efforts while he shifted his position and, his cock desperate for stimulation, he began to mindlessly hump Her exquisite leg. The knowledge that the girl would be staring in horror as the possibility that she also could be transformed into this sort of hedonistic beast only spurred the dreamslave to further acts of depravity.

The Queen’s eyes would never leave the lovely young Asian girl, he knew. The Queen would be savouring the girl’s plight, feasting on her terror. At last, the dreamslave felt Her words blossom forth as She informed the girl:

You’re next.

THE END.