The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Strip, pet,” her voice commanded. He did, leaving his clothes in a heap beside him. “Now kneel.” He did. He trusted the voice, though he had not as of yet seen her face. They had spoken on the phone before, online, too, and he was well conditioned to her ways. When it came time to tell him to meet her at a nearby hotel, there was really no thinking involved. “Stroke yourself,” she said, somewhere behind him. “Slowly, now. I want to watch…” A cool hand touched his shoulder and he shivered. Then blackness encroached on his vision as a mask was affixed to his face, covering his eyes. He stroked himself slowly, restraining himself only with effort. He had never been this close to her before.

“Good boy,” she said. “Stand.”

He did so, uneasily. Hands gripped his shoulder and he was led forward, then turned around. “Trust me?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he said, still stroking softly.

Lips touched his, a hand gently caressed his chest, tweaking a nipple lightly, and then a sharp pain struck him in his left ass cheek, followed by a deep and sudden lethargy spreading up and down his body. Mistress tossed the empty syringe away.

“Sleep, boy,” she said, pushing lightly on his bare chest as he crumpled backwards onto a waiting bed, consciousness fleeing him. He mumbled uneasy protests… vaguely worried now that she would steal his kidneys or something. The last thing he was aware of was a pair of hands on his shoulders pulling him up and a set at his legs placing him more firmly on the bed…

Indeed, his Mistress and her “Apprentice”, naked silent observer to the whole escapade, were lifting his limp, sleeping form more fully onto the bed.

“Bind him,” Mistress said.

First his hands were tied to the posts of the bed, then his feet. The apprentice took her time, brushing her naked body along his, letting a nipple graze his slack mouth, letting her hand hover over his still arching member.

“Now you, dear,” Mistress said to her Apprentice, who sat dutifully down on the room’s other bed, already staring into her Mistress’ deep blue eyes. Her Mistress was dressed appropriately: a perfectly fit black dress, though her shoes were off and placed neatly by the door. She neared her Apprentice. “Time for you to enter a trance, isn’t it, dear? And you’re already halfway there, staring deeply into my eyes… feeling my will erode yours… look, you’re already naked, and all I had to do was ask. You’re halfway there. Halfway down. Halfway asleep. That’s right. Losing all your energy. Dropping down… down… so sleepy, so tired now. That’s right. I see your eyes are fluttering. They can barely stay open. That’s right. They don’t need to stay open. That’s right. It’s almost sleepy time, isn’t it, dear? Relax more and more. Sleepier and sleepier. Deeper and deeper. Sooo so sleepy now. So sleepy.” She tapped her on the head, pushing her back on the bed, whispering, “Sleepy time now, dear. Sleep.”

Mistress arranged her Apprentice with care, placing her bare body on the bed like a sculptor might a statue on a pedestal, arms crossed over the chest, legs straight, slumped head gently resting to its side. Mistress continued to whisper suggestions of sleep while she did her work. It was deepening the Apprentice was familiar with and responded to with ease, her body limp and loose as if it was as drugged as her male compatriot.

While they slept Mistress prepared the room. She made it look less the sad hotel room, more like an ancient altar, lighting the candles, drawing the lines on the walls and floor. She reflected on how depressing it was that there were no ancient altars devoted to this sort of thing anymore: not that it was her place to judge, exactly: not that it wasn’t, either. She knew a thing or two about altars, about sex, about the metaphysical theory and practice of it. She placed candles, did some writing on the walls, lowered the lights… It would have to do. The fact is the art of creating a good sacred space was lost: these times’ modern Gods, prophets and their followers knew more about power and commerce than they did the soul. Even this poorly decorated room now had more magic in it than most of their churches and cathedrals.

Mistress removed her dress, her bra and her panties, revealing the intricate esoteric tattoos they concealed, now glowing with a faint light that, though it would be perfectly visible to anybody present, could never appear on film or video.

She parted her Apprentice’s legs, leaning her face down to her womanhood, and began licking… the Apprentice was already wet, and Mistress’ attentions made her more so. When she shuddered to climax, the Mistress sucked what moisture she could into her mouth, and spit it into a ceremonial cup, already filled with a concoction of herbs and liquids prepared on last year’s summer solstice. Next she attended to her pet, his member still somewhat erect. When he came in her mouth she spit it into the cup and stirred. The cum of a sleeping man and an ensorcelled woman, properly prepared, had strange and powerful properties. Now she only had to wait.

The first thing he realized was that he wasn’t dead. He still felt groggy and strange from the drug. He groaned. “What…?” Next he realized he was tied up. His mask had been taken off, though, and he could see the drab ceiling of the hotel room. Then his Mistress came into view. He knew it was her somehow. She was naked and… glowing? A little? Must’ve been the drug, surely.

“Welcome back,” she said.

“M…Mistress?”

“That’s right, dear. Shh.” She placed a hand on his groin, which gradually came to attention, despite his fear, as she began to slowly pet him. “Good boy,” she smiled. Her face was so gentle. This was the same woman who had demanded his absolute loyalty over the phone and jabbed a syringe in his ass? “You probably want an explanation? Well, honestly, you won’t remember it, at least not really. After this is all over you’ll just remember a night of Bacchus-worthy fucking and drugs.”

He moaned in pleasure as she stroked harder.

“But that’s okay. See, pet, you’re about to become… a carrier for an idea, let’s say. You won’t know you’re carrying this idea, and you won’t spread it via anything so pedestrian as language. You’ll become a carrier for a sexually transmitted idea. Impossible sounding, isn’t it? But: more things on Heaven and Earth etc., etc., pet. You’re about to become a kind of revolutionary. People will come away from a night with you with a whole new worldview. It’s actually all rather beautiful.” Her hand stopped its pumping and slid up his stomach and chest to cup his chin. She leaned down and kissed him, hard. Then she tilted his head to the side: for the first time he noticed the slumbering form of the naked Apprentice. “This is your dance partner for tonight. Apprentice, wake.” The girl’s eyes fluttered open. “Good girl,” Mistress smiled. “Sit up.” The Apprentice did so.

“Partake of this, dear,” Mistress handed her a small bowl. The Apprentice drank from it without hesitation. “Your turn now, boy.” This was all said without malice. He knew – really, he did – that he shouldn’t trust her, but he found he still did. He drank from the bowl. It tasted like strong tea.

“You’ll find the affects quite pleasant, I think,” Mistress said. “It’s a bit like MDMA? But, uh, obviously with a little bit of a mystic kick.”

The Apprentice stood and approached his bed… She was young, younger than Mistress, maybe younger than him. She had short, raven black hair and dark eyes to match. “Hi,” she said.

“Hello,” he stammered.

“Mistress said you were cute,” she said, kissing him. “She was right…” She bowed her head and started licking his shaft, still erect from the Mistress’ attentions. He moaned. He moaned louder when she placed him inside her…

“God,” he gasped.

“No,” she breathed. “And that’s exactly the point…”

She rode him, and he responded back as best he could… though the closer he got to climax the more difficult it became to even move; his body felt heavy, and somewhere under the waves of pleasure was a growing fatigue… She was slowing down, too. “The magic…” the Apprentice said, “… it’s in dreams…Ahh!” She came, collapsing on top of him – his own orgasm followed and sleep abruptly overtook him.

They dreamed strange things. The exact same strange things. When they woke, she untied him – he wouldn’t run now, not after the dreams. They made love into the night, eventually collapsing again as the sun began to rise.

He awoke alone and confused sometime the next afternoon. His memories of the night were fleeting and disjointed, but he knew – or, rather, he had a sense – that something had changed. He was different. The world was different. The room, well, the room was a mess. He was glad he’d let Mistress pay for it. He dressed and slunk out of the hotel. Whatever had happened, he decided, he was grateful.

And everything would be just one shred weirder for it.