The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The hissing spray of the shower heads, coupled with the distant drone of the television news, combined to make a pleasantly mindless cancophony in the expensive marble bathroom of the socialite Barbara Cummings, otherwise known as the master thief Esha. The statuesque blonde sighed contentedly beneath the surging, steaming water, tilting her head back to allow the water to course through her long hair and down the bow-like curve of her back. Countless rivulets of water crisscrossed her naked body, from the swell of her magnificent tits to her long, toned legs. Once again, Barbara congratulated herself for the fantastic decision to install this oversized shower. It was easily one of her favorite luxuries. The water felt delightful, and the drone of the shower heads helped block out the world and all its insanities.

For however long she wanted, she could enjoy precious moments of unconcerned bliss.

Today though, her schedule demanded that she cut it a little short. She was expecting a client.

Sighing in resignation, she reluctantly shut off the shower valves. Stepping out into the steamy bathroom, she wrapped a thick, white towel around her body, cinching it tight between her breasts. A second towel wrapped around her hair, and a moment later she padded out into the luxurious bedroom of her sky rise apartment. The wall was an almost seamless glass window that offered a breathtaking view of downtown Delta City, shrouded in the dark blue hues of twilight, flecked with countless, brilliant lights.

Like jewels, she mused to herself; Delta City at night could be positively radiant.

The soft glow of the standing lamps cast the room in warm tones, the only other illumination coming from the massive flat screen television that dominated the facing wall. As Barbara moved to her expansive walk-in closet, she allowed herself to think back over the events of the last week, and she quietly shook her head at the madcap pace of it all.

She paused as she reached for a short, black silk robe, and glanced towards the carefully concealed panel nestled deep in the closet space. She slid back a section of clothing, her fingers moving with familiar purpose along a hidden seam, until they came to rest on the tiny biometric square one had to feel to find. Silently the system read her thumbprint, and with the tiniest click, the back panel popped up. She swung the door open, and felt to her chagrin a sudden, unexpected nervous flutter in her stomach as a small black box came into view.

She frowned. Random bouts of uncertainty were entirely out of the ordinary for her, she of the almost ubiquitous and unflappable sense of confidence, but as of late, they seemed to be coming with troubling frequency.

Always involving the box. Or more precisely, the precious, stolen thing the box contained.

Impatiently cursing her own ridiculousness—how many jewel heists had she perpetrated over the years, and suddenly this stupid rock was giving her problems—Barbara snatched the box from its receptacle, and set it momentarily on a deep red, antique vanity.

She toweled her hair dry, and slipped the silk robe over her naked form, her skin erupting in tiny bumps as the cool material wrapped her flushed body in its airy embrace. Thinking back to the museum, her thoughts were drawn irresistibly to the highlight of her caper, to that hot little utility room and her most recent bout of sexual conquest. Her red lips curled into a self-satisfied smile. Lovely little Carrie. What a delicious morsel she’d turned out to be. Repressed, well-endowed, and oh so eager to please.

Barbara’s pussy moistened just at the thought.

That one showed promise, Barbara thought with a chuckle, she’d have to find time to pay the hot little co-ed a surprise visit soon.

But that indulgence would have to wait. Right now there was business to attend to. She glanced at a small ivory desk clock, and gauged the time. Eight thirty. She was supposed to meet Magda Crowley in a little under two hours, and much of that would be consumed by the drive. Magda had insisted, in her typical better-than-thou attitude, that they complete the exchange at her family’s ancestral home, Crowley Manor. The ancient heap was an annoying hour’s drive out into the middle of nowhere.

The thought of the woman was enough to sour Barbara’s mood. Magda Crowley, a fifty-something member of the Old Estate, part of the stuffy bourgeois that made up the bedrock of Delta City’s upper class. No relations, the heiress of a vast fortune from old Europe who dallied in the same social circles Barbara often had to frequent for the sake of public appearances. As much as she loathed the cocktail parties and their riotously self-absorbed pandering, people expected a woman of her prestige to mingle. She was young, beautiful, and famously single; people expected her to be flirtatious, to date, perhaps even marry one of the snotty little shits that pestered her for attention every time she showed her face.

It was maddening. Happily, she’d worked out her frustrations by stealing many of them blind. It almost made up for the indignity of having drunken, stupidly vain men’s crudely attempt to get in her pants.

...almost.

But Magda...she was different. clever. Too clever by half.

It had all started so unassumingly, at a recent fundraiser for some new art installation along the Delta City waterfront. Barbara had successfully managed to thwart every attempt at snaring her for a date, leaving several would-be suitors stinging from her disinterested rebukes. In fact, things had gone so well that she’d been feeling uncharacteristically cheery as the evening drew to a close. It might have helped that the insufferable Brenda Wade was still incognito. That self-righteous bitch could really get on a high horse about public responsibility and civic good will. It was enough to make Barbara want to gag.

Maybe the do-gooder had found some new cause to sink all her time into. Some eco-friendly nonsense, from what she’d been able to gather. Why else would anyone buy up a whole section of Whitestone Hills?

Barbara could have cared less. Better she be out there, hip-deep in the wild, so long as she was out of Barbara’s hair.

It was as she was polishing off her last cocktail, resting against the boardwalk rail overlooking Delta City bay, that she realized she had company. Truth be told, Magda Crowley’s appearance had genuinely startled her; she hadn’t heard the woman approach, hadn’t noticed her until she turned away from the water, and nearly stumbled right into her.

“Fuck!” Barbara started, jumping back. She glowered at the woman. She hated being surprised.

Magda Crowley might have been beautiful once, but time had taken its toll. She had put on some weight, so what might have otherwise been a shapely figure was rounded and soft. Her face was creased with fine lines, her silvering hair pulled back in a proper, tight bun. Her countenance had a severity to it, an almost regal gleam that bespoke old aristocratic heritage. Her cool eyes conveyed a general air of contempt, and her thick lips always seemed to be pulled in a bemused smirk. Her attitude chaffed Barbara severely; she was used to being the alpha female in most situations, and with Magda, she had to grudgingly admit she might have met her match. The woman was never out sorts, never spoke inelegantly, and even now regarded Barbara’s outburst with an eyebrow raised in amused derision. Barbara felt her cheeks color. She really could have cared less what the old bag thought of her colorful language.

“Lovely night, isn’t it?” she said cheerily, fixing Barbara with a steady, gray stare. Her voice had the hint of an accent, implacable. Eastern European, perhaps. The blonde bombshell would have happily stormed past her and avoided the discussion entirely, but Magda had managed to corner her against the end of the pier, her back to the rail. The walkway was narrow here, and the older woman stood just a half-pace too close, leaving no gap for Barbara to slip past without barging right into her.

How the fuck did someone so old move that quietly, anyway?

Barbara exhaled sharply, taking another draught from her cocktail, and turned away again to face the water. “The weather is pleasant enough,” Barbara answered. “I wish I could say the same for the company.”

If Magda had detected the slight, she gave no notice. She surveyed the statuesque blonde in front of her with brazen openness. Barbara had dressed purposely in a slightly tasteless, overly revealing little black dress, hoping to stir up some trouble between some of the married men and their jealous wives. The hem of her dress rode dangerously high on her thighs, revealing her long, nubile legs and emphasizing the tantalizing curve of her hips and waist. Her breasts threatened to spill out the top of the tiny black number, and a fat sapphire necklace drew immediate attention to the deep valley of her cleavage.

She was dressed for sex, her outfit screamed, just not with any of these sorry clowns.

Normally Barbara relished the attention her revealing attire earned her. She was totally comfortable with her body, and was exceedingly adept at using it to put people off balance. Suddenly though, Magda’s eyes were making her feel uncomfortable. Beneath her veneer of gentility was an almost hungry, predatory gleam. Barbara could feel her eyes roving over her. She felt like she was being undressed.

Well, the old dyke could go fuck herself.

Magda Crowley stepped closer.

“I’ll keep this short, dear,” she said, her voice low, “I find myself in an unusual predicament. I could use your...services.”

Barbara glanced at her sideways, then scoffed. “Listen lady, if you’re looking for a good time I suggest the corner of Eighth and Broadway. I’m sure you’ll find someone your speed.”

The woman was unperturbed by the crass remark. “It has come to my attention that you possess certain unique...talents. Talents that most people here might find unseemly—perhaps even...criminal.”

At that, Barbara snapped her head around, her jaw taut. Emerald daggers glared piercingly into Magda’s smirking gray eyes. Barbara’s voice was a threatening growl. “I really hope you’re not implying what I think you’re implying. It’s a long drop to the water. It’d be a shame if a frail old lady would lose her footing around here.”

Magda held up a hand, “I imply nothing,” she said. “I’ll state it plainly. You are the masked thief Esha, are you not?”

Barbara’s stomach dropped, her eyes widening in disbelief. How did she know? Who the fuck did this lady think she was, throwing it out there like that? But as Barbara opened her mouth to demand an explanation, Magda cut her off.

“Never mind how I know,” she said, keeping her voice low. “Just know that I do, and that I’ve taken some precautions before confronting you with it.” She smiled, her eyes narrowing. “Lay a finger on me and every police squad in the city, and more than half of its criminals, will be on your pretty little tail.”

She let the threat hang in the air a moment, enough time for Barbara to quell her shock, to reassemble her frigid demeanor. When it was clear the shocked blonde was waiting for her to continue, Magda went on, “As I was saying, you have nothing to fear from me. I merely have a business proposition for you.”

Barbara’s voice was ice. “And what the fuck makes you think I’d consider doing business with you?”

“The same reason you won’t try anything stupid now,” Magda answered coolly. “You have too much to risk by turning me down, don’t you?”

Barbara fumed, but she was at a major disadvantage. The woman knew her secret identity. She was completely blindsided. She was so careful, she was sure her trail was impossible to follow. How the fuck had she been found out?

She’d have to figure that part out later, and find some way of dealing with this crazy bitch. Barbara couldn’t stand the thought of someone like Magda having that kind of power over her. She’d have to be dealt with, and soon. But for now, she would have to play along.

She forced herself to loosen up. She tossed her hair as the night breeze picked up, only now it no longer felt pleasant. Cold beads of sweat had erupted in the small of Barbara’s back, and her stomach roiled with tight nerves. She refused to let Magda know just how jilted she felt though, and so her voice responded with careful, steady modulation. “Start talking. And don’t waste my time.”

Magda seemed pleased with her response. The older woman reached into her expensive suit jacket, and produced a small, unmarked white envelope, which she handed to Barbara. “Everything you need to know is in there. I need you to retrieve a family heirloom of mine, one that I feared lost forever. It is my good fortune that it turned up again after all these years, but to my dismay, it appears to fallen into the collection of most undeserving souls.” Her gray eyes swept down to Barbara’s flushed cleavage, and lingered just a moment too long, gleaming in the dark, before returning her cold stare. “Don’t worry. You will be rewarded...generously...for your difficulties.”

Magda had slipped away soon after that. She’d explained to Barbara about the Devil’s Eye Pendant, about the museum collection, and how Barbara’s unique connections at the museum, coupled with her reputation as a master thief, had made her the perfect choice. She’d leave the details to Esha, her only requirement was that the jewel be delivered to the Crowley Manor by Barbara herself. It was too valuable to leave in the hands of anyone else.

“Can’t be too careful these days,” the conniving woman finished with a sneer, “You never know who you can trust.”

A little over an hour later, Barbara maneuvered her small, compact rental car down an overgrown road barely noticeable from the main thoroughfare. Magda’s directions were exquisitely detailed, and now Barbara understood why; there was almost no way to find the road to the manor without them. With some annoyance Barbara had discovered her portable GPS had stopped working soon after she’d left the city limits, and her cell phone had lost signal not long thereafter. An electronic dead spot of some kind, which, upon inspecting her surroundings, that wasn’t entirely unsurprising. The Crowley Manor was situated in the rural forestry far outside the city limits. The Crowley family owned much of the land surrounding the manor, for no reason other than their apparent love of privacy. The land was basically swampland, unfit for agriculture and held no other discernable value, but their steadfast refusal to part with any slice of it prevented the city from creeping growth in its direction.

here were no other residents within miles of the house, but Barbara had opted for a nondescript rental vehicle anyway. It offered her some anonymity as she left the city (alas, even she was not immune to the occasional paparazzi tail), and would spare her beloved Maserati from the hellish condition of these rural roads.

Great black clouds thundered overhead, blotting out the stars and moon. The only illumination came from the car’s twin headlights. Barbara felt as though she were riding into a pool of absolute night. Where her headlights hit the road, Barbara could see a low, thick mist starting to swirl, growing thicker as she drove on. It lent the entire ride an almost ethereal bent.

She wondered idly if she’d be able to find her way back through the twisting turns at night, but remained smoothly confident that she would. She had a unique gift of direction sense. Despite the winding road, she knew that she’d been basically moving northwest now for about half an hour. She spared a glance at the small, black box nestled in the center of the passenger seat, and once again, her stomach gave an almost imperceptible flip. She could swear, it almost felt like there was a small, dangerous animal sitting in the car with her.

It was starting to creep her out a little. She’d be glad to be rid of it.

Soon enough, Magda’s directions led her to a pair of worn stone pillars, atop which hung a great, black iron arch. The twisted metal letters were woven into an ornate, cursive word: C R O W L E Y. At some point, Barbara could see that there used to be a gate here, but the hinges had been stripped bare, leaving only the open, gaping portal, and the rough gravel road beyond. Her tires crunched through the grit as she rounded a final bend, and finally, Crowley Manor reared into view.

Barbara let out a long breath. “Wow...you’ve got to be shitting me...”

She had heard rumors of the Crowley place, but even the wildest ones couldn’t do the real thing justice. It was a sprawling heap, rising up out of the mist-cloaked moors like a mad child’s twisted plaything. Ancient wood siding had blackened with age so that the whole thing had the appearance of being covered in soot. Steep rooftops capped the multiple levels of the structure. The central building was the only one with any illuminated windows, and stretching out on either side of it, long wings to adjoining structures further added to the impression of a great, sleeping bat.

It would have been perfectly at home on the set of some cheesy Hammer film, Barbara thought to herself. Why someone of Magda’s obvious wealth would leave the place in such a state was just beyond her. Maybe being surrounded by something so old helped the old bitch feel young.

Barbara pulled the car to a stop beneath the awning before the main doors. She scooped the box up in her hands and stepped out of the car, her heels sinking into the ankle-deep mist, and sending it swirling. She shivered slightly. It was colder than she expected it would be. She should have worn more than just the buttoned-up silk blouse and black pencil skirt.

She climbed the worn stone steps leading up to the massive wooden door. A lamp hung on a wrought-iron hook, creating an island of illumination in the cloying dark. She grabbed hold of an ornate metal ring, and swung it loudly against the heavy wooden door, once, twice. The dull thud reverberated across the misty moors eerily, and Barbara felt the hairs on her neck stand on end. She glanced over her shoulder, steeling her nerves. She had the distinct feeling she was being watched.

As the moments wore on, a nagging voice in the back of her mind kept urging her to turn around. Something felt off, it kept saying, something doesn’t smell right. What if this was a trap? What if, right behind those doors, Magda had invited a slew of Delta City’s least desirable scum, all of them itching to pay Esha back for the money, and it was a lot of money, that she’d stolen from them over the years. She was out here, in the middle of nowhere, and no one knew about it.

Yet...what choice did she have? If she did not do as Magda requested, her secret truly would be blown, and the life she’d carefully cultivated for herself would be totally undone. She couldn’t risk that. No matter how risky it might be, she had no choice but to play along, at least until she could guarantee that Magda was no longer a threat to her.

If that meant violence, Esha would be more than happy to oblige, she thought grimly. The bitch would have it coming.

Just when the last of her patience had worn through, and she reached to swing the knocker a third time, she heard metal rustling on the other side of the door as chains, deadbolts, and locks were disengaged. With a loud creak, the door swung inward, revealing the mistress of the house holding onto a silver candelabra. Magda’s thick lips pulled into a smile as her gray eyes settled on Barbara.

“There you are,” she said, “Right on time. I appreciate your punctuality. It’s virtue is often lost on your generation.”

“Cut the chatter,” Barbara snapped. She held up the box. “I’ve fulfilled my end of the bargain. I’ve come for my payment.”

Magda’s eyes lit up when they saw the box, firelight glinting greedily in their watery pools. She seemed barely able to contain her excitement. “Yes of course, as agreed. But come in, come in, a threshold is no place to conduct business between friends.”

“We aren’t friends.”

But Magda ignored the rude remark, opening the door wide, and bidding Barbara enter. “Enter freely and of your own will,” she said, somewhat theatrically, “Warm yourself by our fires and drink of our wine, for as they say in my old country, the night is dark, and full of terrors.”

Barbara gave her a strange look as she followed her inside. The woman was clearly unhinged. Best to get this over with and be back on her way.

Magda waited until she had fully crossed the threshold, then quickly swung the door shut behind them. Her lips curled into a wicked little smile.

“This way,” she said, gesturing for Barbara to follow her. They moved down dimly lit corridors lined on either side by tall walls, and a vaulted ceiling. Ancient decor filled the space, from carved iron sconces and furniture made of lustrous, polished wood. The floor was an ancient oak, worn smooth by years of maintenance and the pounding of passing footfalls. They passed a great, winding staircase that lead up to an unlit landing and second floor, and despite herself, Barbara couldn’t help but marvel at the atmosphere of the old place. It was almost cinematic. She half expected a butler named Igor to round the corner with a jar of brains clutched in his dirt-stained hands.

There was none of that, of course, only the silence of the house, and the strange company of her host. Magda’s dress was long and flowing, as anachronistic as the rest of the estate. It was almost as though she’d stepped back in time a hundred years.

“How old is this place?” Barbara wondered aloud, looking left and right as they ventured deeper into the house.

“Crowley Manor has been in my family for generations,” came the woman’s proud reply. “We trace our ancestry back to the first settlers in this part of the country, pioneers attempting to escape the persecution of New England. We go back further still than that of course, to the old world...to a simpler time. But enough of that, we have arrived.”

She opened a hallway door, and swept a slightly hesitant Barbara in before shutting it with a click. They had reached a plush parlor, with a long settee in place of a couch, and two wingback chairs flanking a great, flickering fireplace. Barbara was grateful for the fire, as it drove away the cloying dampness of the moors, and cast the room in an almost cheerful, orange glow. The walls were decked floor to ceiling with towering bookshelves, while a small nook to one side housed an old roll top desk and a glass cabinet filled with bottles of stoppered spirits and gleaming, quartz glasses.

Magda did not appear to walk so much as to glide over the thick oriental rug lying the center of the room to place the silver candelabra atop the stone mantle over the fireplace before finally turning to the still-hesitant Barbara, an expectant smile on her face.

“There, I think you’ll find these accommodations to be much more welcoming. You’ll have to forgive my hospitality, we have not had a guest in Crowley Manor for many years, and I am often content to keep to certain rooms rather than keeping the whole house lit. A house this old abhors a carelessly abandoned flame, and I simply can’t abide the glare of electric lights. I find firelight to be much more relaxing...don’t you?”

“Um, sure,” Barbara agreed, looking around with thinly veiled suspicion. She approached the bookshelves, but the spine titles were written in a language she did not recognize, and some merely had strange symbols carved into the old leather covers. God, there had to be hundreds of books here. Barbara circled to the glass case, noting that none of the decanters were labeled. She recognized the color of some of the contents as likely being whiskey, vodka, and an emerald green fluid that had to be absinthe. The age of the place was just amazing. So consumed she was in observing her surroundings that she didn’t notice the dark, hungry look that had crossed her hostess’ face, the way her gray eyes eagerly followed the sway of Barbara’s hips, and traced the generous curves of her breasts beneath the tight silk blouse. The older woman’s bright, red tongue slipped out to whet her broad lips.

“Can we get on with this?” Barbara said testily as she turned back to face Magda, “I really want to try and leave before that mist gets any worse out there.”

“Of course,” Magda smiled that strange, mirthless smile again. She gestured to the box Barbara held in her slender hands. “May I see the stone? I need to be sure it’s authentic...”

Barbara approached the woman, noticing, perhaps for the first time, how unusually pale she looked. Maybe it was just the firelight, but her skin was almost alabaster, except for two blossoms of color high on her weathered cheeks, and the unusually ruddiness of her lips. She hesitated slightly before sighing, and passing the small black box into Magda’s waiting hands. She eyed the woman warily. “It’s the real thing. I kept my end of the bargain.”

The older woman nearly snatched the box out of her hands, clutching it tightly to her chest. Magda turned to face the fireplace, her back to Barbara. Her hands trembled with barely contained excitement. Could it be true? After all these years...!

Her pale fingers slowly opened the box, and the weathered woman sucked in a ragged breath as the glimmering jewel of the Devil’s Eye winked up at her from inside its velvet case. Flecks of firelight danced in its endless facades, illuminating Magda’s wide, leering face in a deep, hellish crimson.

“Ohh!” she could only gasp, a shaking finger tenderly stroking across its meticulously carved face. “It’s just how I remember it...! How long have I searched...waited...”

Barbara felt a strange prickle of uncertainty on the back of her neck. The tone of Magda’s voice had changed, sounded off. Her instincts were sounding alarm bells in her head. She needed to get out of there, now.

“I’ve made good on my end of the bargain, Magda,” she said, putting as much authority into her voice as she could muster. “It’s time you fulfilled yours.”

The older woman turned her head just slightly, glancing back at Barbara over her shoulder. Her lips curled into a smile. “Why of course, dearie. I always keep my promises, and I have your reward...right here!”

She turned to face Barbara, the crimson stone glinting in her raised hand, which she suddenly allowed to slip from her pale fingers. Barbara started, part of her reflexively wanting to reach out and grab the falling stone, but as it fell a shimmer of thin silver trailed behind it, and suddenly it stopped taut. The pendant bounced wildly at the end of the long, thin chain Magda had looped around her fingers.

The effect of the firelight on the stone was infinitely more dramatic than the clinical lighting of its display case, and despite the utter strangeness of the situation, Barbara couldn’t help but utter an astonished gasp as the deep crimson jewel caught the flicker of the bright orange flame and seemed to resonate with it. The startled blonde watched as the smoldering jewel settled at the end of its tether, and with the slightest of gestures from Magda’s hand, it began to swing in slow, ponderous arcs. Every swing caused the fire to flicker and flash, reflected a thousand times, so that the heart of the stone seemed to hold a glowing ember itself. It was so...pretty...

Barbara’s brow creased, and she looked back at Magda’s serenely smiling face with mounting annoyance. “What the hell are you talking about? We had an...agreement...”

But even as she spoke, her eyes kept getting drawn back to the slowly swinging pendant. The way it flickered and shone, how it almost seemed to trail an orange afterglow as it moved was simply...fascinating. Attractive. Barbara’s voice trailed off. She’d lost her train of thought.

“Don’t worry, my dear,” Magda said, her voice honey-thick, almost lilting, “You’ve done such a good job. Such a good girl. Good girls deserve their reward...”

Her words were nearly nonsense, but their tone, their cadence, had sinister purpose. She watched with a predatory keen as the flecks of ember light danced across the eyes of the beautiful blonde, eyes that hadn’t blinked in long seconds. She began to slowly raise the swinging pendant, keeping the arc long. Slow. She watched with satisfaction how Barbara’s eyes followed the movement.

“S-stop wasting my...time...” Barbara grumbled, but the fire in her voice was dwindling, and her furrowed brow had started to relax. The pendant was so distracting. The way it kept flickering firelight in her eyes was making them feel heavy. The room suddenly felt warmer somehow, or maybe it was just her. She could feel heat rising in her cheeks.

“There’s no reason to rush,” Magda droned, “The hour grows late. You’ve traveled so far. You must be feeling tired, dear. So, so tired...”

The words wafted over Barbara in slow, easy waves, each syllable seemingly accompanied by the metronomic swing of that devilish jewel. She was suddenly aware of a growing lethargy in her limbs, and the weight of her eyelids was getting worse. She blinked heavily. Something wasn’t right. She shook her head, trying to clear the warm fog that was settling over her, but it didn’t seem to help. The pendant kept catching her eyes, drawing her attention. The rhythmic swinging made it hard to think about much else. “Tired...no, not tired...should...leave...”

Magda took a small step towards Barbara, and another, but the drowsy blonde didn’t seem to notice. Good.

“Oh, but you are Barbara. You are tired. I can see how heavily you blink. Your pretty eyes are feeling heavy, aren’t they? Heavy and drowsy...heavy and drowsy...”

With terrible slowness, Magda circled around her dazed prey, carefully maintaining the steady rhythm of the pendant, the even, soothing tone of her voice. Unconsciously Barbara shifted her footing, turning, so that the captivating gleam of the gem stayed in her vision. Magda only stopped when she had successfully maneuvered Barbara so that the buxom blonde faced her, while her back was towards the long, plush settee near the fireplace.

Barbara swayed on her feet, each blink growing longer, and when her eyes did manage to drift open, they remained hooded, distant. Why was she feeling so tired all of the sudden? The fireplace nearby was wrapping her in a soothing haze of warmth, exacerbating her lethargy. Her breathing had slowed, and the periphery of her vision was slowly being encroached by a flickering dim. Something was terribly wrong. She shouldn’t be feeling this way. The heat in her cheeks was spreading lower, across her chest, down her back. She wore no bra, and she was becoming increasingly aware of the sensation of her silk blouse as it shifted against her naked breasts.

Just like in the museum, she felt magnetically drawn to the pulsing diamond. It seemed to be beating, like some kind of weird disembodied heart, and with every throb it bade her gaze deeper into its burning core. Her eyes followed the long, slow swings obediently. The feelings enveloping Barbara were familiar, comforting. She felt almost as one did after waking from a pleasant nap, every inch of her felt like it glowed. The friction of her hardening nipples against the silk of her blouse was setting off little sparks of excitement in her belly, while lower, she could feel the blood swelling in her suddenly sensitized pussy. It was almost like she was getting...aroused...

She struggled to gather her thoughts. “Wait...this...isn’t right...what are you...doing...”

Magda smiled, her teeth gleaming white. “Why isn’t it obvious, darling?” she said, pausing ominously. “I’m hypnotizing you...”

Hypnotized? That was crazy, just some stupid parlor trick. She was out of her mind. A swinging pendant, that’s all it was. And yet...why was Barbara finding it so hard to look away?

She shook her head, blinking heavily, staggering slightly on her feet. “No...no! I won’t just...let you...”

“Oh but you will, Barbara. You already are. You’re being such a good girl. Just keep watching my pretty pretty stone. Watch it swing slowly, back and forth. Back and forth. So easy to watch. So lovely. So hard to look away.”

Barbara tried to ignore her sonorous words, tried to pull here gaze away from that flashing stone, but she couldn’t seem to muster the will. She was feeling so tired. Her eyes felt so heavy. She just wanted to rest them a moment, just for a moment. Suddenly her stomach knotted, a sense of danger flaring, but she perceived it only through the cloudy, hazy warmth that pervaded her senses. She stepped back, instinctively trying to distance herself from Magda and her strange, compelling voice. “S-stay back...”

But Magda followed after her, moving closer. “Oh it’s too late now, honey. I can feel you falling under my spell. Yes, that’s it. Let yourself drift on my voice. So sleepy. So warm. Watching my pretty stone makes you drowsy and relaxed. Drowsy and warm. Back and forth...”

“N-no...stop...” Barbara almost pleaded, staggering back, furiously trying to resist the tide of Magda’s honeyed voice. With every long blink, her head would start to loll forward, before jerking back up like a drowning swimmer gasping for air as Barbara struggled to keep her sinking eyes open. Magda stepped closer, now nearly within arms reach. So close now. So deliciously close. She now held the stone almost directly in front of Barbara’s drooping eyes, every sweep flashing them with compelling brightness, urging them lower...lower...

“Every swing brings you closer,” she whispered, “Every swing draws you deeper. Into the pretty stone. Into the warmth. All around you now. No need to fight it. No need to resist. So warm. So relaxed. All you have to do now is close your eyes, darling. Close your heavy, heavy eyes...yesss...sleep for me, my pretty...ssleeeeep...”

Barbara’s lips parted, as if they meant to utter some final denial, some final resistance, but all that escaped was a weak moan. The beautiful blonde’s glazed eyes blinked once, twice...and did not open again. A weary sigh slipped from her lips, and she suddenly sagged on her feet. At once, Magda moved forward, slipping an arm around Barbara’s slim waist, pulling the spellbound woman firmly into her vile embrace.

A low, victorious chuckle tittered in Magda’s throat as she slipped the now unnecessary diamond into a pocket of her dress. With surprising strength for a woman of her age, Magda held Barbara’s swooning body in a firm, controlling grip, her arms hanging limply at her sides, her head tilted back. Magda could see the flutter of her eyelids as a whimpered “no....no...” came weakly from her parted, full lips. The stone had done its job perfectly. Now it was time for Magda’s other talents to do theirs.

With her free hand, Magda reached around the curve of Barbara’s shapely hip to find the zipper on her short, black skirt. With practiced ease, the older woman pulled it down, loosening the garment, then easing it over the enticing swell of Barbara’s ass so that it fell to pool at her ankles. Magda’s lustful eyes took in the tiny, black lace panties that barely covered Barbara’s vulnerable sex, and noted with satisfaction the way her pussy lips pressed against the fabric, puffy and swollen.

Suddenly, to Magda’s utter surprise, Barbara shifted in her embrace, a shaking hand coming up to grasp weakly against her disrobing arm. The blonde’s eyes remained closed, but her brow had furrowed, and beads of perspiration had sprung up on her heated forehead. “N-no...don’t...don’t touch...me...”

Such strength! Magda was genuinely impressed. The statuesque blonde clearly had a stronger will than she had anticipated. Good. Magda loved it when they struggled.

She pulled Barbara closer, so that her red lips could graze along the pale slope of her neck until they came to rest beside the helpless blonde’s left ear.

“Still trying to fight, are we?” she breathed, letting her hot breath slip teasingly into her prey’s sensitive ear. She felt Barbara shudder in response, her breath catching. “Fight as much as you like, but I know the truth. The stone made you so tired, didn’t it? So sleepy...warm...and something else, too.”

Her pale hand came up between Barbara’s parted legs, and pressed up against her panty-covered sex, eliciting a shuddering sigh from the entranced woman. Magda groaned as the sensation of those swollen, bare pussy lips beneath the lacey texture of her panties thrilled through her. It had been so terribly long since she’d last felt this. She meant to savor it.

A deep blush crept up Barbara’s face, and suddenly her nipples hardened into stiff peaks beneath the smooth silk of her blouse. Magda gently began to stroke her sex through her panties, long fingers caressing her covered slit, tracing it teasingly. Barbara gasped, and her legs began to part reflexively to the pleasure of Magda’s cunning strokes.

“Oh! Oh don’t...no...”

“Yesss...” Magda hissed, feeling Barbara’s wetness begin to soak through the flimsy fabric, “That’s it. I can feel you weakening, Barbara. Your sweet little pussy is getting so hot. Feel my fingers caress you. Excite you. I know how good little girls like to be touched.”

Her deft fingers moved up, feeling for the small, sensitive nub of flesh nestled at the top of Barbara’s slit, and gently rolling against it in small, quick circles. Barbara let out an unwilling moan, and she lost her trembling grip on Magda’s caressing arm. Her head fell back, and Magda began planting hot, wet kisses along the length of her exposed throat. Barbara’s quivering thighs continued their slow, obedient spread beneath Magda’s seductive, knowing touch. Her treacherous clit swelled eagerly under the patiently circling fingers of the vile seductress.

Magda was in no hurry. As her fingers continued their devious work, she slid her other arm up from Barbara’s waist, around her back, and seized her left breast in a firm, possessive grip. Barbara gasped. Gently, Magda lifted her heavy breast, caressing her through the soft silk blouse, massaging the huge tit with expert familiarity. She rolled her palm across Barbara’s stiff nipple, eliciting a helpless moan.

“Such beautiful breasts!” Magda sneered, reveling in their exquisite softness. “Big tits like yours can be more than most men can take. But I know what to do with them. I know how to make them sing...”

And she was right. Barbara couldn’t believe how amazing Magda’s hands were making her feel. The sensation of the silk gliding across her heated flesh, the firm, confident pressure of her hand, it made her knees tremble. In mere moments, Magda had her panting. At the same time, Magda’s fingers continued to dance erotically over her rigid clit, stoking the flames of her arousal. Pleasure licked up her spine as that knowing caress slowly, irresistibly, set her on fire. She groaned, “Oh...I feel...so...OH!”

Feeling her prey slipping further and further under her sexual control, Magda grinned deviously. She let her stroking fingers slip up across Barbara’s swollen mound, her nails raking the soft flesh of her belly and making it jump, before they wormed their way under the low band of Barbara’s panties, and plunged down.

Barbara moaned uncontrollably, her eyes fluttering, as Magda’s fingers dove into her hot, slick pussy. With merciless skill they slid along her swollen labia, dipped teasingly into her sex, and spread her wetness all along her throbbing cunt. The pleasure was intoxicating. Soon Magda’s wet fingers had her pussy spread wide, her caress making Barbara ache with need. Her rigid clit was teased out of its protective hood, and slender digits swiftly moved to trap it between them. Magda rocked her hand against Barbara’s pussy, her fingers weaving an erotic spell every bit as potent as the mesmerizing flicker of her accursed pendant. Barbara swooned.

“Do you feel that Barbara?” Magda whispered into her moaning victim’s sensitive ear. Her voice had resumed the hypnotic, honeyed cadence she’d used to snare her unsuspecting prey. “Do you feel the way your pussy yearns for my touch? Do you feel the way my fingers play with your clit? Feel them sapping your strength. Weakening your will. It feels so good, doesn’t it? So, very, very good...”

Barbara couldn’t help herself. The part of her still trying to fight was slowly falling prey to the languid, delicious stroking of Magda’s devilish fingers. The pleasure battered her resistance, dragging her in, leaving her mind dangerously open to the compelling, suggestive words Magda breathed into her ear. She felt so sleepy, so aroused. It was so easy just to spread her legs, to lean back, and let Magda’s wicked fingers work their evil magic on her throbbing, aching clit.

“I-I feel...it feels...good...” Barbara repeated weakly, falling hopelessly under the leering lesbian’s Sapphic spell. Her hips rocked against Magda’s hand with a will of their own. “Ohhh! Yes! It feels...so good!”

“That’s it Barbara,” Magda cooed, feeling Barbara’s conviction melting away, “Let yourself go. Sink into the pleasure. You’re too hot. Too aroused. You cannot resist me anymore...” Her fingers began moving faster against Barbara’s rigid clit, coaxing her higher and higher, driving her towards that precipice of unspeakable pleasure that would seal her fate.

Barbara was losing herself. Magda’s control over her clit was total. Helplessly, the buxom blonde could only moan in submission, as the last of her willpower was drained away by the skillful manipulation of her pussy. “More...please more...” Barbara gasped, her voice rising sweetly in pitch, “Oh god, I can’t stop! Oh god you’re making me—”

“Come for me Barbara,” Magda commanded, masterfully assaulting her clit, “Come for me...now!”

Barbara could hold back no more. A final, dominating stroke across her engorged love button sent her over the edge. With a strangled moan, the overwhelmed villainess exploded under Magda’s vile attentions, her pussy gushing with honeyed nectar, soaking through her panties to coat her trembling thighs. The tide of pleasure sweeping up from her orgasm was too much, it overwhelmed her, drowned her. Her eyes fluttered rapidly one last time, before at last falling terribly still. A blissful, mindless sigh escaped Barbara’s lips as the release plunged her into a deep, deep trance. Her body went limp.

Magda eased her back onto the plush settee so that she lay prone. Her lace panties clung wetly to her swollen, overheated sex, and her rigid nipples tented her tight silk blouse in hard, enticing peaks. The older woman chuckled in satisfaction to herself at the successful seduction, licking at her slick fingers and relishing the taste. It had been so long since she’d had such a delicious morsel in her grasp. The sight of her, lying open and helpless on the couch, was enough to drive a woman mad with lust.

Looming over her helpless victim, Magda Crowley hungrily unbuttoned her straining top, staring lustfully as Barbara’s prized tits spilled into the open. Her eyes followed every creamy curve as they travelled the length of her captive’s amazing body. Her fingers played idly with the thin straps of Barbara’s lace panties, before a sharp tug with her surprisingly sharp nails sliced through the delicate material. Almost like she was unwrapping a present, Magda slid the torn fabric away, revealing Barbara’s hot, glistening pussy to her ravenous gaze. Clear, thick moisture ran in tiny rivulets from between her swollen pussy lips, and the torrid nub of her clit visibly throbbed in the firelight. Licking her lips in anticipation, Magda hurled the now-useless panties into the roaring fireplace.

Now almost totally naked except for her expensive high heels, one leg still on the ground while the other rested against the soft back of the settee so that her legs were spread obscenely wide, Barbara was completely at Magda’s mercy. Magda crept to kneel beside Barbara’s head, crouching over the sleeping blonde almost ghoulishly. She tenderly brushed aside a stray lock of Barbara’s platinum-blonde hair, a gesture that might have even been loving, had Magda’s face not been contorted into a demonic grin.

“Barbara...” the evil woman whispered, “Listen to my voice, Barbara. I want you to focus on the soothing sound of my voice...”

On the settee, Barbara stirred, but her eyes remained closed. Magda’s fingers drew small circles around her temples, stroking down her cheeks. Then, her voice a distant whisper, Barbara responded. “L-listen...to your v...voice...”

Magda’s hands began to slide lower, massaging her neck, tracing the delicate lines of her collarbone and dipping into the hollow of her throat. The hypnotized woman sighed, her skin erupting in goose bumps.

“Such a good girl,” Magda smiled, “So pretty...so obedient...just listen to my voice Barbara. Let my words wash over you. So easy. So relaxing. You were so sleepy, Barbara, so tired. My voice will help you rest...”

Her long fingers peeled away the open flaps of Barbara’s blouse, fully exposing her magnificent breasts as they rose and fell with Barbara’s slow, deep breaths.

“Yes, you were so tired. You came into my home, and the warmth of the fire made you so drowsy, didn’t it? You brought me my pretty stone, just like I knew you would. You’re a good girl, Barbara...and good girls do as they’re told...”

Her fingers stroked along the soft top and sides of Barbara’s breasts with an almost ghostly touch, barely there, but enough to send little shivers of pleasure into Barbara’s open, vulnerable mind. The pleasure would dull her memory, making the false thoughts Magda planted easier to accept, to believe. Barbara’s lips parted in a dreamy sigh, “Do...as I’m told...”

“You’re going to forget, Barbara...” Magda whispered, “You will remember nothing of what happened after I showed you the diamond. Trying will make you feel sleepy. It will all seem a dream to you, my sweet. Nothing but a hot, sexy dream...”

Now, she allowed her fingers to trace up the slopes of Barbara’s conical tits, until they reached the wide circles of her pink areola, and the hard, swollen peaks of her nipples.

“You will remember only one thing, Barbara,” the honeyed voice whispered into her unresisting mind, “You will remember...this...”

At that, Magda’s fingers closed in on Barbara’s stiff nipples, and gently began to squeeze. The entranced blonde gave a startled gasp, but remained deeply asleep, while a fresh rush of color blushed across her cheeks. Magda’s devious fingers began to tweak and twist, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through the sleeping blonde’s helpless body. She whimpered in her trance as Magda’s fingers did horrible, wonderful things to her rigid nipples.

“This is the pleasure that comes with my voice, my sweet. Your mind will forget, but your body will not. This arousal you feel is mine to command...and you will find yourself unable to resist...”

Barbara was panting, her nipples aching with delight in Magda’s skillful hands. Her back arched, pushing more of her sensitive tits into the evil witch’s clawing hands. Magda chuckled at the reaction. Such a saucy little tart. Oh, Magda had such plans for her! All her patience, all her planning, would soon bear fruit, and the hot little minx lying before her would be the key to it all.

But for now, Magda had other needs to fulfill. Other appetites. Only one thing would satisfy her.

Rising from beside the settee, she kissed her way slowly down Barbara’s feverish body, letting her thick lips linger hungrily on her quivering breasts before she began inching lower. She kissed a path down Barbara’s firm belly, pausing to let her hot, red tongue slip into the small dip of her bellybutton, making Barbara gasp sweetly. Lower, and lower. Finally, her eager mouth hung over the slick, swollen lips of Barbara’s pussy, and the small pool of wetness between her legs. The scent of her arousal made Magda’s head spin.

“Remember this, my pretty,” Magda hissed, her lips splitting as a long, inhuman tongue spilled out to lap up the copious juices that coated Barbara’s smooth, creamy thighs. “Remember only the pleasure...and sleep...”

Unable to hold herself back another moment, the thing that had been Magda Crowley fell upon Barbara’s helpless form. And as that long, monstrous tongue began its evil work, the dark, ancient halls of Crowley Manor were soon filled with the sweet cries of her hapless victim as she was plunged into the depths hellish ecstacy, as well as the hungry cackle of the hag between her legs.

Ravenously, she would feed from Barbara long into the cold, moonless night.