The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The ancient room was as still as a crypt. Heavy velvet drapery hung from the iron curtain rods and from the antique canopy of the bed, silent and oppressive. The very air seemed thick and old, and bespoke of years, perhaps decades, of being unmoved by a living breath. Shadows lurked more thickly and clawed more aggressively along the strange shapes carved into the aged, stained wood furniture. Wan shafts of thin light speared into the heady gloom from the shut curtains, motes of dust dancing languidly in their rays.

There was scarecely a sound to be heard; the sprawling heap that was Crowley Manor seemed frozen in watchful anticipation. Like a great spider sitting patiently in the center of a massive web, its stark stillness might have been mistaken for inanimacy, or even death...when in truth, its eyes gleamed with malignant hunger.

Such was the way of things when the sole spark of life in the cloying darkness shifted in restless, troubled sleep beneath the silken sheets of the massive bed. Barbara groaned, her blonde hair splayed wildly across the pillows, and slowly blinked her way back to consciousness.

The instant her eyes registered the place she was in, she let out a startled cry, almost leaping back against the ornate headboard, blinking in fright.

“Oh god, oh god what—where—?” she stammered, confusion and horror churning her head into an addled mess. Her bright eyes looked around in wide disbelief, her heart instantly pounding. It was her room, the same damn room she’d awoken in since the day she’d arrived at this hellish place, but...how...

Memories (or were they dreams?) rushed uncontrollably across the canvas of her mind, filling it with images she scarcely recognized, images she dared not believe—couldn’t believe—were true. Her heart threatened to pound itself out of her chest it was hammering so hard. She clutched, white-knuckled, at the crisp bedsheets, and sucked in a shuddering breath when she realized, at length, that she was holding her breath.

She...she couldn’t remember...anything. All she had were vague images, fleeting impressions that were fading by the moment, driven out of her mind by her own throbbing pulse. She looked about, confused, bewildered, feeling lost and not a little out of her mind. What time was it? What DAY was it? She...she had called a cab...hadn’t she? Yes, that seemed right...she’d found the study, used the phone, called a cab...after having dinner with Magda. Then...and then...?

She shivered, clenching her eyes. Something lurked right at the precipice of her recollection, something she knew was terribly important...and yet the memory refused to obey her summons. Only impressions came; feelings of fear, of helplessness...but also of longing, submission, and a deep, aching desire...

She trembled again, but for entirely different reasons this time, as she suddenly came to realize the wickedly aroused state her body was in. Her hands moved reflexively, slipping beneath the sheets to cross over her heavy breasts, to glide between her legs, responding to her body’s silent, urgent call. Once more, as with all the other mornings, she found herself naked beneath the silken sheets. Her nipples were rock hard, pressing insistently into the arm that crossed over them. The fingers of her other hand grazed against the smooth flesh of her inner thigh, and she knew immediately what she would find if she allowed them to follow the trails of damning wetness leading back to her hot, slick pussy. Her face was flushed, and she realized that her harried breathing was only partly from fright...

What was happening to her? Beneath the feelings of disquiet and confusion were the tell-tale sensations of arousal, incredibly strong arousal. Her body was suffused by the heady bedroom warmth that only came from a night of hot, passionate sex; the way her afterglow still tingled and lingered spoke of not just one, but several long, intense orgasms she must have experienced over the course of the night.

And yet she could remember none of it. The bed, apart from her recent, frantic movements, looked almost pristine when it should have been a riot of rumpled sheets and disarrayed pillows.

Could it...could it all have been in her head...in her dreams...?

Barbara groaned, clutching her temples, sinking back into the enveloping mattress and trying to get a hold of her rampaging emotions. The longer she was awake, the further away her feelings of nameless fear continued to slip, until they were reduced to mere shadows of anxiety flitting about the dark corners of her mind. The speed at which her insinctive sense of danger was quelled should have been alarming in and of itself, but the thought never even occurred to the buxom thief; in fact, thinking in general was getting harder and harder to do. She just felt so...so...horny...

She scissored her long legs together, clenching her thighs, perhaps trying vainly to suppress the growing throb in her naked sex. Barbara squirmed beneath the pale sheets, painfully aware of how the fabric seemed to glide so cooly against her heated skin. Her smooth flesh erupted in sensitive goose bumps as a soft shiver chased up her spine. She felt a swell of pleasure issue from her heavy, swollen breast, and only then realized that her hand had moved to cup and massage it, seemingly of its own volition.

“What...what’s happening...oh...” Barbara sighed, trying—and failing—to will her rebellious hand to still its practiced motions. The sensation was so wonderful, so languidly seductive, that it was easier just to give in to the need, to let her stroking fingers do their work as her anxiety, her tension, all seemed to bleed away into the enveloping softness of the bed. Like a practiced lover, her hand pressed and caressed her heavy tit, making it ache with delectable urgency and turning her already stiff nipple into a lightning rod of sensation. The jolt of pleasure she felt as her fingers claimed the turgid bud in a salacious twist shocked her with its intensity, making her back arch and teasing a startled gasp from her parted lips. A moment later—again, seemingly with a mind of its own—her other hand joined its pair in seizing her neglected breast, and the sensation of having both her tits so perfectly stimulated made her dizzy with arousal.

“What am I doing?” a small, plaintive part of Barbara’s mind wondered in alarm, “I—I shouldn’t be touching myself like this...not here...it’s not...safe...”

But her marauding hands seemed completely content to totally ignore her misgivings. They played with her massive jugs, teased at her engorged nipples, and fed the growing cloud of pleasure and warmth billowing around her sense of awareness. She was not wrong; the bedroom only granted the illusion of safety, of privacy. She knew she was not alone in the house, that somewhere, perhaps close by, the house’s strange mistress could very well be lurking. Magda Crowley. The thought of her sly hostess sent a canchophony of emotions roiling through Barbara, both the familiar feelings of distrust and suspicion...but new ones too...things that made her feel small, and weak...

And hot.

“I—I have to stop,” Barbara whimpered, almost pleading with herself, “Need to...stop...”

But she couldn’t seem to muster the will. The bed was so soft, the pleasure so sedating. Her hands barely felt like hers at all; they moved seemingly of their own accord, and the things they did, the sensations they elicited from her sensitive breasts, were more than Barbara could stand. She sank back into the pillows, her eyes growing heavy, as a simultaneous pull on both her aching nipples made her moan.

There’s no hurry, another part of her mind insisted in a lilting, honey-sweet whisper. Just relax. You are safe here, in your bed; safe and alone. No one’s watching. You’re so hot...you need release...

The thoughts were cloying, almost smothering, and impossible to deny. She did feel hot, she couldn’t remember ever waking up feeling so aroused, and her body...her body needed relief...

She felt her hands moving, reluctantly abandoning her humming tits and sliding slowly, agonizingly slowly, down her slender torso. Barbara couldn’t remember actively thinking them into motion; she had, handn’t she? She felt so confused, and yet they continued to drift lower and lower, following the hourglass curve of her waist, the widening flare of her hips. Another part of her was calling for their attentive touch now, hot and demanding.

Spread your legs...

The thought—no, the imperitive—drawled across her mind in that same sing-song, sonorous whisper, making Barbara shiver. Her green eyes cracked open, watching in mute bewilderment as beneath the pale sheets, her long legs obediently responded. They bent at the knee, spreading wider and wider, until she was as open as a woman could be. The feeling of being so spread, so vulnerable, made her heart beat even faster. And still her hands continued to descend, reaching her thighs, playing across the velvety skin. She was almost panting.

Her pussy was throbbing in neglect, her lips slick and swollen, her clitoris pulsating in time to her racing heart. Feather-light touches danced along her inner thighs, teasing her in the most delightful, languid way. She couldn’t believe the things she was doing, but it felt so right, it felt so damn good. She wanted to touch herself so badly, but knew that the teasing, patient strokes would only make it that much better when she finally did.

No rush. No hurry. Just relax, feel yourself. Make yourself ache. Make yourself drip.

“Oh god...ohh...yes...” Barbara moaned, eyes sinking shut as she felt herself just drifting away. She felt oddly detached, almost voyeuristic, inside herself as her hands continued to taunt and tease with tantilizing caresses. The heat in her empty sex had roared into a manic blaze. She was so wet, she could feel herself leaking onto the silken sheets. She tossed her head, spreading her legs even wider, as if begging her hands to cease their relentless seduction and end her suffering.

Finally, just when she was sure her heart would explode from anticipation, she felt the touch shift, growing firmer, more deliberate. Her fingers began to descend, starting at her knees and moving inexorably towards the throbbing core of her femininity. They slid into the rivulets of wetness lacing her inner thighs, tracing them towards their source. When her fingers met at the juncture of her thighs, Barbara gasped, her hips rising into the air.

So wet. So willing. The voice in her head was almost chortling in satisfaction. Feel how hard your clitoris is. How it throbs. Touch yourself now. Give in to the pleasure you so desperately crave.

Barbara’s sex-drugged mind barely recognized that the voice had changed. It was not hers any longer, if it ever had been at all; her subconscious knew it well, her mind trecherously receptive to its sonorous tone, and she was helpless to resist its honeyed commands. It was like she was a puppet, a beautiful marionette dancing to the strings of her own lust. She didn’t know who was touching her anymore; it was her hands, but she had no control over them. They pressed into her soft mound, caressed along the swollen folds of her labia before dipping teasingly between. One hand focused on her slick opening, while the older slid up, finding the sensitive nub of flesh at the apex of her pussy and giving it the attention it deserved. Barbara groaned, her eyes fluttering, as her pleasure began to soar.

More. Don’t stop. It feels too good to stop. You want to cum so badly. It’s alright. You are safe. You are alone. No one to watch you. No one to stop you.

“Yes. Oh yes,” Barbara was moaning now, her fingers sliding into her tight channel, caressing her inner folds even as her other hand wove circles mercilessly around her needy clit. It felt so naughty, so delightfully slutty, to be touching herself like this, her legs spread wide, barely covered by the soft sheets. Her hips rocked against her hands, rushing to meet her searching fingers as if they were a lover’s thrusting hips. She cried out. She was getting so close now. It was coming. Oh god, she could feel it. Yes...oh god YES...just a little more...just—

Suddenly, Barbara heard a sharp rap on the door, the sound piercing through her erotic haze and startling her back to reality. Instantly, the spell was broken, and the orgasm that had been right on the cusp of crashing down upon her receded like the fleeing tide. Barbara stared about in panting confusion, almost physically aching at the release she’d been denied, but a second sharp knock left her no time to recover. She heard the ancient handle begin to turn, followed by the creaks of protest as the heavy door was pushed inward. Suddenly painfully aware of her shockingly lewd position, she scrambled beneath the sheets, barely articulating a cry of “W-wait, please—” as the heavy door swung fully open—

—revealing the empty doorway leading into the hall.

Barbara blinked in confusion, clutching the bedsheet between her breasts. She waited, almost forgetting to breathe, for the black form of Magda Crowley to glide into the empty space...but the strange woman did not materialize. The hallway was silent; the only sound that of her own halting breaths, and the throb of her pulse in her ears.

There was no one there.

But...someone had knocked. Someone had turned the handle. These things don’t just happen.

Swallowing past a lump that had suddenly formed in her throat, Barbara cautiously slid one leg, then the other, to the plush carpet, and rose from the bed. Her eyes never left the open passageway, half-expecting that at any moment Magda would come flying into the room, like some hellish bat, eyes flashing, hands clutching...

Yet her fears proved groundless. The doorway remained vacant. Barbara risked glancing about the room for something to wear, and her scanning eyes fell upon the familiar long silk robe she’d used just a day or so ago. Barbara slipped into the garment, cinching it at her waist, and muttering a curse under her breath at how ill-fitting it was. The robe was clearly made for a woman without her considerable endowments, and even pulled as far closed as it would go, it left exceedingly little to the imagination. But it was either the robe or risk going naked, so Barbara swallowed her annoyance, and crept to the door.

Her movement was the same nimble, graceful gait she had mastered in her trade, her bare footfalls silent even upon the old hardwood floors. Her instincts for sensing danger were all on overdrive now, her body braced for the smallest movement from the hall. She honestly didn’t know what to expect, but the house was so old, and her nerves were so frayed, that she could scarcely control the tremor in her hands.

“Get a hold of yourself, Barbara,” she grimaced, peering up and down the empty hallway and seeing not a hint of movement. “It’s just an old house. She’s just a crazy recluse. You can handle this.”

God, she hoped she was right.

The hallway provided absolutely no help; she could make out no signs of anyone having come or gone in either direction, and there was no door close enough that someone could have slipped into without her noticing. She had familiarized herself with the general layout of the second floor, and knew that the passage to her right led to the spacious bath and the den beyond, while to her left was the stairwell to the main floor, and to the labyrinthine wings leading to the rest of the house.

She made a quick decision to head right. Staying close to the wall, keeping her footfalls as silent as possible, Barbara quickly made for the two rooms remaining at the end of the hall. The bathroom was a ludicrously grand affair, with luxurious tilework and a massive standing tub, but she found no one lurking therein. The den was likewise unnoccupied. She slipped back out to the hallway, mentally checking off the room as she cleared them.

“What the hell are you even doing?” she asked herself as she doubled back down the hallway, heading now for the main stairwell. “This is insane. You’re chasing ghosts, and for what? Just to confirm that the old bat was peeping on you in bed?”

But part of her had to know. There was something off about Magda Crowley, hell, about the whole house itself. Being here made her feel...weird. Barbara’s innate sense of curiosity and her total disregard for authority were exactly why she was a thief in the first place; she could no more resist the urge to explore than she could fly.

The house was deathly silent. Distantly she could hear the steady tick of a grandfather clock somewhere in the house, but beyond that there was nothing. There were no servants, no housekeepers, nothing. Apparently it was just her and Magda in the whole rambling mess, and she had no idea where the strange woman even was.

That realization suddenly made her feel uncomfortably small and alone. The lump in her throat grew thicker. She pressed on.

She reached the landing at the top of the grand stairway. Sunlight danced in shafts of light angled lowly from between the dark drapes; faint enough that it could be close to dawn or approaching dusk. She couldn’t tell, and her internal body clock was so messed up that she couldn’t trust it one way or the other. As she stood deliberating whether to proceed downstairs to the dining room and the study where she’d called the cab company or to continue exploring the second floor, she heard a noise that made the hair on the back of her neck prickle.

“Barbara...”

The lovely thief jerked her head up at the sound, freezing in her tracks. The airy whisper carried past her like a wafting breeze. Her pulse quickened; where had it come from?

A moment later and she heard it again.

“Barbara...this way, Barbaraaa...”

“Holy fuck,” she muttered to herself, staring in disbelief down the hallway. Human voices don’t carry like that, at least not in any way she could undestand. The voice was most certainly coming from the opposite wing, but the sound was so unsettling, so palpably bizarre, that the better part of her sense insisted she make for the main door immediately. Barbara glanced longingly at the massive double-door waiting at the entrance below. She could be down there in a heartbeat, taking the steps three, four at a time, and be out the door. If it was locked, she would find a window. If that was locked, she would break it. Get out, that part of her mind screeched, get out get out get out!

But beyond the door was the moors, the mist, and miles between her and a working road. She didn’t know what was waiting for her in the swamp, but what little she’d seen of it was enough to give her pause.

She felt sick; there really was only one choice, and she hated having to make it. She turned to the dimly-lit hallway, and began to follow the voice.

Only a few steps past the landing of the grand stairwell and the paltry light from the shut windows failed to illuminate the passage. The candles stood unlit in their sconces, giving the impression of nothing so much as a huge, black maw waiting to swallow her whole. Barbara proceeded anyway, moving cautiously, one hand holding to the wall as a guide. If the architecture on this side was anything like its opposite, the hallway would be empty, the doors to any adjoining rooms set in curved alcoves. By following the wall, she would find the doors, even if she had to go all the way to the end and double back along the other side.

And again, she heard the voice.

“This way...come this way...”

The darkness swallowed her up. She could barely make out the general shape of the hallway, and the end was totally obscurred from sight. It seemed to stretch out forever. A cautious glance behind her presented the relatively brighter landing two dozen or so feet away. How long had the other hallway been? Forty, sixty feet? She had no way of knowing.

She continued down the path. With her eyes mostly useless, Barbara’s other senses were on maximal alert. Her ears burned from listening so hard, her fingers tracing the wall searching for an opening. The house smelled of the passage of time, endless and forlorn. Wild anxieties threatened her imagination, conjuring any number of nameless horrors she was sure lurked in the near dark. She pushed them out of her mind, only mostly succeeding. Her heart hammered in her chest.

Abruptly, she felt her foot strike against something hard in front of her, and she stopped short. She reached forward, and found the solid surface of a wall waiting for her. The end of the hallway, she surmised. Gauging from where she was to the pool of distant light coming from the landing, she had to be about as far in as the hall ended on the opposite wing. It was symmetrical, or very nearly so. There had been no doors on this side of the hall.

She slid across, feeling for the adjoining side, and turned around. Now the landing was ahead of her, her left hand pressed against the ancient plaster. She began to walk.

She hadn’t gone far when the wall beneath her hand abruptly fell away. Barbara stopped, feeling for the alcove with both hands, and discovering the door recessed therein. She swallowed, listening.

As if it knew where she was, the voice spoke again.

“Come...come...”

The airy whisper made her shiver. The way it dragged out the syllable into a low, throaty moan was somehow horribly suggestive. Maybe it was just the pent up tension from her earlier episode in bed, but she could feel her naked pussy tingle in response.

“Dammit, focus,” she insisted angrily, feeling color rising in her cheeks. Now wasn’t any time for her imagination to take a lurid turn. She felt around for the door’s ancient handle, and pushed it open.

Another hallway greeted her, but this time, small candles were lit intermittently down its length, the tremulous lighting still worlds brighter than the dark she had just endured. She exhaled gratefully, stepping fully into the hall, and shutting the door heavily behind her. She blinked, letting her eyes adjust. It took her a moment to realize that the strange, tall frames she saw running down the length of the hall were actually pictures...paintings.

A gallery of some kind, she surmised. She took a lit candle sconce from its holder nearest to the door. The end of the hall was too distant to see in the gloom, but she had a light, and as little as it was it the glow it offered was still reassuring.

With nowhere to go but forward, Barbara proceeded slowly down the hall.

She reached the first painting after a mere handful of paces. A sconce of lit candles, covered in cascades of dripping white wax, flanked it on either side. Every painting was illuminated the same way, Barbara noted. She paused as she passed in front of it, raising her own sconce curiously to examine it.

What she saw made her gasp.

She stopped in her tracks, staring wide-eyed at the vivid oil painting. The scene depicted in masterful oil-strokes on the canvas could only be described as pornographic, shockingly so. The central subject of the painting was a woman, stunningly beautiful, with flowing dark hair and flawless, pale skin. She was on her knees in a darkened room, the accounterments suggesting a bedroom perhaps, or a richly decorated parlor. Sharing the frame with her were the images of three men; each was brutishly masculine, their stark nakedness revealing not only their midnight-black skin, but their almost freakishly-large endowments as well, all rendered with startling clarity. The woman was on her knees between two of the men, a small, pale hand struggling to wrap around the base of each surging cock. The third was lying on the ground, the woman astride his hips. The painting left no question about where his engorged member was presently located.

Barbara stared at the painting with dumbfounded surprise. She was no afficionado, but she knew enough of fine art to realize that the painting was the work of an absolute virtuoso, albeit one unflinchingly perverse. Every detail was meticulously captured, the picture so vivid it could have been mistaken for a photograph. The woman’s pale skin looked almost luminous against her dark surroundings, and stood in stark contrast to the richly black skin of her amorous trio. But most fascinating of all was the woman’s expression; eyes shut, red lips parted in a silent, soulful wail, it was the look of a woman in the throes of ecstacy. If the man on the ground was proportioned anything like the specimens clutched in her dainty hands, Barbara had no doubt just how profound the woman’s ordeal truly was.

The longer Barbara stared at the painting, the more she grasped the amount of detail the artist had sought to capture. She could see the woman’s clothing, laying in shredded rags about the room; she saw the primitive markings adorning the men’s skin, the heavy shackles fastened around their wrists and necks; she could even see the spiderweb-thin strands of saliva trailing from the woman’s shining lips to the glistening cockheads throbbing mere inches away. A story began to form in Barbara’s mind, assembled from the disparate details captured so perfectly in the painting.

The mistress of the house, a woman of wealth and priviledge, bedding (or being bedded by?) the men servicing her home. Was she being raped? The ruined clothes might have been evidence of violence, or of uncontrollable passion. However she got to the position she was in, submissively pleasuring two throbbing shafts while another churned its way deep inside her, the look on her face was unmistakable; this was a woman experiencing pleasure of the most primal sort. And while her features were so fastidiously captured, the men were almost faceless, fading into the shadows of the room. They were automatons, their singular purpose the sexual plunder of the woman in their midst.

But as Barbara stared, a strange sense of recognition began to dawn on her. She could have sworn she’d seen this woman before...but...

Then it hit her. The dining room, the portraits lining the walls; this woman was in one of those paintings. She was a Crowley, somewhere along the ‘proud line’ Magda had spoken so highly of.

But...why this painting? Why would a woman of such stature subject herself to being immortalized this way? It was beyond bizarre. The scene was just so...so lewd...so erotic...

Barbara felt a blush creep high on her cheeks, and only then realized that had no idea how long she’d been staring at the painting. She blinked, shaking her head, stumbling back slightly from the canvas that had so dominated her perceptions. She swallowed hard, and glanced with a mixture of apprehension and helpless curiosity at the long line of pictures that extended down the gallery.

Raising the candles, she stepped to the next painting in line, and felt the world tilt beneath her feet.

In the painting was a woman, this time with vivid red hair, bound by her hands and ankles to a massive wooden frame of nefarious purpose. The woman was blindfolded, and gagged with a strip of night-black fabric. Her skin shone with sweat, the muscles in her arms and legs chorded from exertion. Again, the lifelike realism of the painting captured a sense of dynamic motion in a way that was unsettlingly acurate; Barbara could almost see the woman moving, writhing in her restraints. The painting made it perfectly clear what was causing her ‘distress’.

The woman was trapped, impaled on a devilishly carved dildo fastened to the wooden frame. The handful of inches curving up into her vulnerable sex were so wet Barbara thought the paint might actually start dripping, covered in the womans copiously flowing juices. There was no way of knowing how far the vile instrument reached into her grasping pussy, but somehow...somehow Barbara knew...

A wave of dizziness suddenly overcame her, and the buxom blonde uttered a wilting moan. She staggered, a hand at her head, falling against the opposite wall and only barely keeping her balance. Her trembling hand only just managed to hold on to the candleabra, the flames sputtering as they cavorted madly through the air.

In her mind, memories and emotions struggled to surface while a heavy, oppressive will, alien and malignant, methodically forced them back down. Only the vaguest of impressions made it to the fore, making her heart pound, her breathing catch...and igniting the lingering sparks of arousal that up till then had only smoldered idly in her belly.

Barbara moaned, feeling a shudder of uncontrollable desire suddenly well up inside her, driving her to her knees. Oh god, what was happening? Her limbs, they felt like lead, her head like it was full of cotton. In her ears rang the melodious sounds of distant, mocking laughter, like the tinkling of tarnished silver bells. Her heart beat wildly in unmistakable panic, and yet between her legs, squeezed beneath her trembling thighs, another part of her was awakening with shuddering hunger.

Her vision swam. She looked helplessly up at the painting on the wall, the image blurry and indistinct. The woman...she looked different suddenly, familiar...

“Is...is that...me...?”

“Baaarbara...”

She cried out, snapping her head to the sound droning from up ahead, from the shifting shadows masking the passageway.

“W-who’s there?!” she choked, before realizing just how stupid and pointless the question was. She knew. There was no doubt who it was...

“Come, Barbara...so close now...come...”

Barbara felt her trembling legs slowly rise beneath her, until she had lurched completely to her feet. Her heavy arms and leaden legs felt oddly distant, almost numb. She couldn’t quite will them into motion. Her green eyes were wide and frightened; the utter madness of what was happening was just too much to take, to comprehend.

“Come to me...”

As if an invisible tether had been tugged, Barbara felt herself stumble forward. She gasped in shock, her knees shaking. The candlelabra tumbled from her slack fingers, the flames dousing themselves before they hit the plush carpet. The darkness eagerly rushed in to engulf her.

“No...no...!” she whimpered, struggling to fight off the heavy lethargy in her limbs, the smothering cloudiness in her head, but the voice continued to drone.

“come, Barbara...come...”

It filled her mind, enveloping her in poisoned sweetness. Quite against her will, Barbara felt herself take one step, and another, again and again, walking haltingly but inexorably onward into the yawning hall. Beside her the phallanx of paintings continued their march; she saw each one only fleetingly, out of the corner of her vision, and while the details were different the unifying subject was the same: each one depicted a woman caught in the grip of sexual torment, captured and rendered seemingly at the exact moment before their pleasure would crest. It was the collection of a madman (or woman? Something else entirely?); mementos and snapshots from a lifetime of sin and lust.

As she passed them, as the her gait steadily sped up and the pictures began to blur together, a final detail suddenly came into focus. At first Barbara thought it might be a trick of the dancing candles, or some twist in her befuddled perception, but she kept seeing it, and soon it was all she saw.

Something lurked in the paintings, hidden in the salacious details and masked by the mesmerising realism of the brush strokes. A shadow, huge and inhuman, an impression of something utterly demonic that seemed to haunch just outside the central image of each painting. Barbara only ever saw parts of it; the sillhouette of a spidery hand; the shadow of a toothy, grinning maw; but altogether an image was forming in her head, one that made her blood run cold.

It was waiting for her. She knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt. Whatever it was, it was waiting for her...just up ahead...

The gallery was more than just a collection of erotica. It was the self-portrait of a monster.

“Come...!”

Ahead of her loomed an ancient door, deep cherry hardwood carved with fantastic designs. Wisps of mist curled wildly from the gap at its base, illuminated by a deep red glow from the chamber beyond. Barbara’s heart was pounding, but she could not stop herself from approaching the foreboding portal. The metal knob twisted with a protesting creak, and then the door began to open, animated by unseen hands. Her eyes had become so accustomed to the dim of the hallway that for a moment Barbara was dazzled by the crimson glow. She shut her eyes, choking out a cry of alarm—

—and then she was inside.

The door slammed shut behind her, and just as suddenly, the unnatural lethargy left her limbs. Barbara stumbled, glancing about in reflexive alarm, and found herself in an opulent bedroom filled with trappings of a world long since past. A great fire crackled in a stone hearth, basking the room in smoldering orange hues. Candles flickered in holders all around, licking at the air, trailing plumes of heady fragrance up towards a vaulted marble ceiling. Spread across the inlaid tile floor was the fur hide of a massive bear, jaws open in a perpetual snarl. Even in death its eyes glittered menacingly, and Barbara couldn’t help but feel as if it was staring at her. A large tapestry depicting a coat of arms hung over the mantle, black and crimson flecked with gold. A raven clutched a scepter in one twisted claw, while the other held a strand of silver chain that ended in a huge red gem.

Barbara had seen that stone before. Oh god.

But the various accounterments of the chamber were mere distractions from the central piece dominating the room. A massive four-poster bed took up the lions share of the room, standing atop carvings of clawed feet, with a headboard of ebony wood embedded with glinting jewels. The thing looked almost alive, like an animal poised to lunge, ready to swallow her up.

“Welcome, my dear. I’ve been expecting you.”

Barbara spun at the sound of the voice, and found the odiously smirking Magda Crowley seated in a tall backed wing chair in a corner of the room. She backed away instinctively, glaring balefully at the older woman.

“This was all a trap, wasn’t it?” Barbara growled, terrified, yet grateful for the fury rising inside her burning away her sense of helplessness, of despair. She seized upon it. “All of it, from the very start!”

Magda seemed utterly unperturbed by her outburst. She cocked her head, regarding Barbara with those unsettlingly-stormy eyes. “Well of course it was, darling. And you played your part marvellously.”

“But why!?” Barbara blurted, “What do you want?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Magda smiled. Slowly, she rose to her feet, lips curling. “I want you.”

The sinister woman began to approach, seeming to glide towards her across the marble floor. Barbara backed away. “S-stay back,” she snapped, “Stay away from me, or I’ll—”

“I’ve wanted you from the start,” Magda crooned, her voice dropping into a sultry purr. “Ever since I first laid eyes on you. You are strong...young...beautiful! I was smitten, utterly enamoured, and who could blame me? You are absolutely...exquisite...I had to make you mine...”

Barbara wanted to hurl back an invective, something swift and biting, but the words refused to come. Instead, she felt an unexpected blush on her cheeks, accompanied by a disturbingly pleasant warmth that sought to dull the raw edge of her rage. Barbara shook her head in denial, edging back, keeping a wary distance. “Y-you’re insane!”

“Alas, it almost was not to be,” Magda sighed, gray eyes glinting as she saw Barbara redden. “I had lost something precious to me, you see. I was not at my best. It was pure luck that my jewel, my diamond, ended up in that fool Patterson’s collection. It barely took any effort to convince him he needed to set up an exhibit of all his useless baubles. I knew it would be no trouble for you, my dear, to retrieve it for me...”

She grinned like a cat regarding a mouse, “And retrieve it you did.”

Barbara’s mind reeled. The whole thing had been a set up from the start. Magda could have taken the jewel herself, but she used it as bait, used it to draw Barbara in...!

Oh god, what had she gotten herself into?

“You think some old rock is going to give you a chance at me? You really are crazy,” Barbara scoffed, hoping the bravado didn’t sound nearly as forced as it felt. She had to keep Magda talking, had to stall. She eyed the door. If she could get a clear shot...

Magda chuckled, “The stone is a uniquely powerful talisman, the key to a bargain made many, many years ago.” Her slender fingers touched at a spot beneath the inky black fabric of her dress, brushing something dangling around her neck. “Without it, I was trapped...but now...”

Barbara didn’t let her finish. She had maneuvered a narrow corridor of space between her and the door, and uncoiling the muscles in her legs, she propelled herself towards it with staggering speed. She didn’t look back once, even when she heard Magda’s shocked intake of breath, her eyes focused solely on the wrought iron handle of the door. She leaped for it, felt her heart soar when her fingers closed around it, but a second later her hopes plunged as the handle rattled uselessly.

Locked. Of course it was.

“Tenacious to the very end,” Magda clucked, shaking her head. “I admire that about you, like I admire so many other things...”

Barbara spun, her back pressed to the door. She was panting, near panic. Her breasts heaved in their flimsy confines with each ragged breath. “G-go to hell!”

Magda turned towards her, arms upturned at her sides, as if beckoning Barbara for an embrace. The flames of the fireplace roared behind her, turning her face into a mask of shadows. Too-white teeth glittered in a smile. “I won’t be returning there for quite some time, thanks to you. But enough talk. It’s time, darling...”

Barbara swallowed hard, her brow furrowing as she watched Magda warily. The older woman stood patiently still, barely moving. What the hell was she up to? “I’m on to your tricks, Magda. You so much as reach for that pendant, and I’ll break your arm!” Barbara snarled.

Magda’s steady gaze was relentless. She smirked. “Oh, I won’t be needing it, Barbara. I have other ways to subdue a beautiful, arrogant woman like you. Very soon, you will be helplessly in my power.” Her gray eyes smoldered. “I’m going to have my way with you, dear. I’m going to seduce you, lure you into my bed, and show you pleasure as no one ever has. Before the night is done, you will be my eager sex-kitten, my devoted slave...”

Any other time and Barbara would have scoffed at her bravado, at the absolute insanity of her claims...and yet this time, the words only served to make her insides squirm...

“T-that’s never going to happen,” Barbara muttered, swallowing incredulously, and yet Magda seemed so confident, so certain...Barbara only wished she felt nearly so sure herself.

That’s when something seemed to shift in the room. The candles flickered, though there was no breeze. Shadows cavorted wildly around them. Barbara’s brow furrowed. Something was wrong. Something was...strange. It had to be a trick of the light; Magda’s face was obscurred in shadow, but her eyes...they seemed so bright, almost glowing. They stared at Barbara with piercing intensity, as gray as storm clouds and rumbling with thunder. Like so many other times, Barbara felt those eyes undressing her, roaming over her with unmistakable hunger. Barbara had always been able to put it out of her mind before, had always beenable to dismiss it...but now...

The shapely blonde shifted uneasily against the door. Those eyes...she could almost feel them on her skin. They seemed to take in everything at once. She felt the gaze rising up her long legs, felt it caress the pronounced hourglass of her generous hips and slender waist. She felt it follow the curve of her naked tits beneath the too-thin silk of the robe, and focus on the stiff peaks of her nipples where they pressed out, as hard as pebbles. She felt it lick along her neck, felt it delve into the prominently-displayed plunge of her cleavage...

The heat on her cheeks was getting more intense. Barbara blinked, feeling...strange...feeling warm...

Magda’s voice was thick, soothing. “You don’t seem so sure, darling. I can sense your doubt, your confusion. Come to me. Let me help you make up your mind...”

She smiled wickedly. She raised a pale, slender hand at the wide-eyed blonde, and imperiously curled her finger.

“Come.”

The word sent a shard of pleasure right through Barbara’s sensitized clit. She uttered a startled gasp, falling back against the heavy wooden door, her knees shaking. Like the kiss of a whip, the feeling was sharp but fleeting, a burst of sudden ecstacy that drove the air right out of her lungs. Only as it receeded was she able to pull in a shuddering breath, her fingers clawing uselessly against the unyielding portal.

Instantly, Barbara felt her whole body flush with heat. Beads of perspiration glistened on her forehead. The thin fabric of her silken robe was tented obscenely over the suddenly rock-hard points of her pink nipples, while between her trembling thighs, her clitoris was almost aching.

Barbara looked at Magda with wide, fearful eyes. “What...? H-how did you...?”

But the woman only continued to smile that cruel, confident smirk. Once more, she gestured, crooking her finger ‘hither’. “Come...”

“AH!” The lash of pleasure made Barbara arch her back as it forced the sweet cry from her lungs. She teetered on her feet, her vision flecked with dancing lights. Her hands flailed out, grabbing at the wall, grabbing at the threshhold over her head, anything to steady the room that had started to slowly, madly whirl. She pressed her thighs together, reflexively trying to ward off the invisible caress that had left her pussy humming in blind anticipation.

Her breathing was out of control, her heart hammering in a dangerous cocktail of terror and unnatural arousal. She looked around the room desperately, but nothing seemed to be steady, nothing was still. It was all suddenly spinning...spinning...

Except for Magda; except for her stormy, luminous eyes. They stared at Barbara with smoldering intensity, projecting plainly the woman’s forceful, suffocating will. Barbara had never seen anything like the pure, unabashed hunger in those eyes. They were almost magnetic. So deep, so...alluring...

The dazed beauty struggled to pull her eyes away from Magda’s lurid stare, but the wicked witch knew she had her snared, and now began to tighten the noose.

“Come, Barbara...” she whispered, beckoning again with her upturned hand. This time, the sensation was like that of a slow, steady caress, ghostly fingers softly tracing the length of her trechearously heated sex. Barbara quivered, intaking a trembling breath, before releasing an almost moaning sigh as the silky touch focused on her engorged clit. The waves of gentle pleasure rose and fell in time to the steady strokes over her hot little button, buffeting her mind, eroding her will. It spread through her body like a drug.

“No...n-no...” Barbara moaned, her eyes suddenly feeling impossibly heavy. She swayed on her feet, her wavering will trying so hard to stay focused on resisting the phantom touches stoking her sex that she could barely keep her balance. At last, her battered senses could take no more, and she stumbled, groaning as she staggered a few steps forward.

Towards Magda’s waiting arms.

“Yesss...” the evil woman sneered, eyes flashing. Her crooked finger beckoned. “Come...!”

Barbara tried to close her eyes, to shake her head free of the heady fog that was coming over her, but it was no use. The villainous stroking of her vulnerable pussy rewarded her obedience with a sensuous squeeze of her clit, sending a spike of unwanted, but undeniable pleasure coursing up her spine. She wanted to fight it, God how she tried, but it felt good, just so wickedly good. She could feel the wetness beginning to leak from her torrid pussy, felt it starting to coat her creamy thighs. The pleasure made her weak, dizzy, she couldn’t stop...

She took another halting step.

“S-stop...please...stop...” she begged, whether to Magda or to herself even she wasn’t sure, but it was no use. She couldn’t fight both the overwhelming dizziness and the sinister pleasure at the same time, and she was forced to take another unbalanced step, and another, all the while feeling each tiny submission rewarded by another rolling caress of her aching sex.

Before she knew what was happening, Barbara found herself swaying barely an arms length away from Magda’s black-clad form, trembling in what she wished was fear, but was feeling more and more like wild anticipation. When she felt Magda’s pale hand cup against her cheek, and when the heat in her already-charged body flared in response, Barbara only barely suppressed the whimper that choked in her throat.

Then she felt those fingers glide past her ear, entangling in the wild mane of her blonde hair to grip possessively behind her head, where it began to exert a slow, steady pull. Barbara’s eyes widened in alarm, “N-no! Don’t—I don’t want—mmmpph!”

Barbara’s protests were stifled as Magda drew her into her inky embrace, one arm wrapping around her tiny waist while the other maneuvered Barbara in for a long, deep kiss. The struggling blonde felt the older woman’s plump lips press into hers, claiming the prize that had eluded countless suitors with such confidence that it made Barbara’s heart skip a beat. The woman’s grip on her head was so possessive, demanding, that Barbara had to fight hard not to respond. She whimpered, her arms hanging limply at her sides, while Magda’s lips engaged hers in tawdry, erotic pursuit.

She felt the woman’s other hand rise up to caress her back, raking her surprisingly sharp nails over the flimsy silk robe and making her skin burst out in goose bumps. Taking advantage of the disarming kiss, Magda slipped a leg between Barbara’s parted thighs, bulling them apart.

Barbara’s mind reeled. She whimpered in muffled protest, the heat blossoming on her cheeks almost unbearable. As the kiss continued, the pillowy softness of her assailant’s lips began to take their toll on her dangerously aroused body. Every brush, every seeking caress, bade her heavy eyes to sink lower...lower. As much as she tried to fight it, the heady arousal continued to build and build, making her light-headed, making her stomach flutter. At last, with her head swimming and her pussy on fire, Barbara’s fluttering eyes sank shut, and her red lips parted with a helpless moan. Instantly, she felt the hot, slippery sensation of Magda’s tongue glide past her lips, plunging into her mouth to claim it as her own.

Barbara squirmed, held fast by the hand gripping her head, as more and more of Magda’s tongue filled her mouth. Its size, its impossible length, made her stomach uncontrollably thrill, and soon it had totally filled her, dancing with and overwhelming her small tongue like a living serpent. Barbara’s flailing willpower began to plummet, dragged down by the surging, inescapable urge to submit to that marauding appendage. She couldn’t help herself, she moaned openly into Magda’s hot mouth as the evil woman plundered her with the kiss. In her daze, with her eyes shut and her head swimming, it was so easy to forget that the slippery thickness in her mouth was a tongue at all; it might as well have been a cock, a hot, swollen cock, demandingly seeking the soft envelopment of her waiting throat. The thought made her pussy gush, and before she knew it, Barbara felt herself sucking on it as if it WERE a cock. Her tongue sparred ineffectually against it, her body melting against Magda’s as she fell victim to the witch’s subjugating kiss.

Feeling her prey swoon in her arms, the vile woman chuckled derisively, slowly pulling back to extract the half-foot of meaty tongue that had reduced the haughty thief to a panting, pliable mess. Barbara’s groan sounded almost regretful as it slipped free, and the blonde managed to open her heavy, glazed eyes enough to stare up at the baleful dominitrix in dazed confusion. She leaned limply in Magda’s arms, the older woman effortlessly supporting her weight. She brushed her sharp fingernails across Barbara’s sensitive throat, and smiled approvingly as the buxom blonde’s reflexively craned her neck in response.

Magda shifted her leg, pressing it against Barbara’s weeping sex and slowly starting to rock. Barbara moaned, her eyes fluttering, before her waning strength failed and her head fell back, exposing her long, pale neck to Magda’s waiting lips. The woman planted a trail of wet, sucking kisses from her jaw all the way to her delicate collar, relishing the way the silk robe split obscenely wide to frame Barbara’s massive breasts. Her stormy eyes lingered hungrily on the rock hard nipples peeking out from just beneath the parted seam. She raked her nails lightly over them in a lazy criss-cross, teasing them harder still, before her roving hand continued to descend, lower...lower...

Then Barbara felt the warning tug on the knot of her belt, and barely halted her descent into dreamy, erotic oblivion. She forced her head up, struggled with her leaden arms, but could only manage to weakly grab hold of Magda’s assaulting wrist. She whined, “No...s-stop...! What—what are you doing...?”

The witch smiled serenly, her intentions belied by the ravening glint in her eyes. She adjusted her hold, pulling Barbara in so that her head fell back, leaving her to stare hopelessly up into Magda’s wide, gleaming eyes. Barbara made to spout another word of protest, but in an instant Magda had her transfixed. The kiss had drained her, had left her too weak, too turned on, to resist the hypnotic allure of Magda’s deep, penetrating stare. The stormy gray seemed to churn, to swirl, drawing her in, making her...dizzy...

Magda grinned triumphantly as she felt Barbara sag in her arms, her voice falling to a soothing whisper. “That’s it, Barbara. Just relax. It is useless to struggle. It’s so easy to gaze into my eyes. To feel yourself being drawn into my eyes. So easy to stare. So easy to relax. You are drifting, darling...falling deeper...deeper...”

Barbara tried twisting in her arms, tried to wrench herself loose from Magda’s sordid embrace, but the woman was much too strong, and her strength...her strength was fading...

“Stop...stop it...I won’t...I won’t...just...I...” Barbara stammered, but the words kept getting jumbled up in her head. It was getting hard to focus, hard to think. Magda’s voice was so distracting, and her eyes...so inviting. It was so hard to look away...to think about anything else. It was just so easy to stare...to relax...

“You can’t look away, can you, Barbara?” Magda lilted, “You like how I’m making you feel. My eyes are making you so sleepy...so relaxed...a woman like that becomes so open to pleasure...so easy to arouse...like this...”

Magda pulled her in close, letting Barbara’s large, heavy breasts brush against the dark fabric of her dress, and the waiting softness of her own tits beneath. She felt Barbara shiver, saw the denial flare in her eyes one moment, only to fade into a roil of uncertainty and confusion the next. “N-no...what...what’s happening, I...” Barbara moaned, the motion of her tits shifting in the confines of her silken robe filling her mind with the most scintillating sensations, “I feel...I feel so...”

“You’re getting drowsy, Barbara. You are falling into a trance. I’m putting you under my hot, sexy spell. I can feel your resistance crumbling,” Magda breathed, “You’re getting too tired to fight. Too aroused to think. Look into my eyes, darling. Gaze deep, deep into my eyes....I’m making you hot...I’m making you wet...you are powerless to resist me...”

Magda’s voice had taken a sinister cadence, lilting, simmering; it seemed to flow over Barbara like warm, sweet wine. The arm behind Barbara’s back pulled her close, and gently rocked her body against her own, making her accutely aware of just how painfully little she had on. Magda’s lips hung mere inches away from her own, as if at any moment she meant to sweep the dazed blonde into another mind-melting kiss. Barbara felt each word breathe against her panting lips, low, soothing, intimate. “Let yourself be seduced, my sweet...let me undress you...let me make love to you as no one else can....”

“N-no...n..n..ooh...” Barbara moaned, trying, and failing, to pull her gaze away. Magda’s eyes held her fast; they sapped her strength...robbed her of her will...and her body...her body was getting so hot...so turned on...

“Yesss, my dear, oh yes...I know just what you need...just what you want...” she crooned, shifting her leg, pressing gentle circles against Barbara’s soft, glistening mound. Barbara’s eyes fluttered, the pleasure so sweet, so seductive. Magda pressed her advantage, feeling the grip on her hand starting to slip. “You want this, Barbara,” she whispered, her long tongue lolling out to wet her thick lips, “You crave the pleasure I offer, that only I can give. The pleasure makes you tremble...the pleasure makes you weak...so tired...so turned on...yesss...”

Barbara groaned, barely able to keep her eyes open anymore. They were glazed, lost in the stormy gray of Magda’s mesmerizing stare. The whole room was fading away. She felt so warm, so relaxed...Barbara never even noticed when her trembling hands finally fell away from Magda’s wrist. They hung limply at her sides, useless now, leaving her utterly defenseless as she stared dreamily into her wicked temptress’s unwavering gaze. “...so tired...so weak...can’t...resist...”

Magda chuckled, clasping the dangling strings holding the belt knotted at Barbara’s midriff, and slowly starting to pull.

“....don’t...oh, don’t...please...oohh...” the enspelled blonde could only whimper, helpless in the witch’s arms as the robe slipped apart, revealing her nakedness, her slender waist, her soft, flaring hips, and the wetly glistening mound between her quivering thighs. The silk flowed across her skin as Magda pulled it away, until it fell to puddle uselessly at their feet. Magda sucked in a breath at the sight of Barbara’s glorious, naked body, the hunger gnawing inside her nearly too much to bear. She wasted no time in seizing one of Barbara’s large, soft tits in her hand, relishing the sensation of the firm flesh yielding beneath her expert caress. The older woman murmured in appreciation, her hand stroking, teasing, testing the sumptuous weight of Barbara’s proud breast as it spilled around her hand. She felt Barbara’s rigid nipple pressing into her palm, a hot, pulsing beacon begging for attention. Magda did not intend to disappoint.

She shifted her leg so that her thigh pressed squarely against Barbara’s erect clitoris, trapping it against her pubic bone. The change in sensation, from teasing and gentle rolling to sweet, hard pressure elicited a gasp from Barbara’s quivering lips. Magda’s hand never left Barbara’s vulnerable tit, scraping her sharp nails lightly around and around her sensitive breast in endless, tingling spirals. With every revolution, she inched closer and closer towards Barbara’s puffy, swollen areola, and the stiff peak at its center. The languid, nonsense sensations soon had Barbara panting, her aching nipple throbbing and more swollen than ever, but the anticipation, the promise of those fingers finally closing in on her turgid nub never crested. Magda’s fingers just continued to circle...circle...

“Ohhh...oh, oh god...” Barbara sighed, her mind reeling from the exquisite longing, the relentless build up of pressure. All too soon though, the patient, cunning strokes began to take their toll. It wasn’t enough to feel Magda’s wickedly sharp nails grazing the pale slopes of her tit, or to feel the steady pressure of her thigh against her clitoris. Her nipple was aching, so hard that it felt like it might burst. And her pussy...her pussy was drooling, rivulets of slick fluid coating her swollen labia, soaking into the black fabric of Magda’s dress. She was so hot, so hopelessly turned on.

Magda watched her prey’s growing distress with mounting amusement. She felt Barbara beginning to squirm. “Is something wrong, Barbara?” she taunted, “Doesn’t this feel delicious...doesn’t this feel good...?”

A part of Barbara’s mind, some small shard that hadn’t yet been snared by Magda’s erotic spell, knew this was wrong. She was being raped. She didn’t, shouldn’t want any part of this...and yet...she was aching. She needed more. She needed to be touched...she needed...

“P-please...” Barbara whimpered, “Please...I’m so hot...please...”

Then, just as Magda knew she would, her buxom victim shifted against her, arching her back, offering her swollen tit into Magda’s teasing hand. At the same time, she felt her hips starting to rock against her thigh, grinding her needy clit against the firm flesh of Magda’s leg. Magda’s eyes narrowed, boring into Barbara’s own.

“Give in, my sweet,” Magda whispered, “Your desire is too strong. Your will is too weak. You can’t stop yourself. Your hips move on their own.” All at once, like wolves falling upon a lamb, Magda’s fingers rushed forward, claiming Barbara’s throbbing nipple in a swift, sensual vise. The helpless woman let out a moan, her eyes lidded and glazed. Slowly, Magda began to assault the sensitive peak, twisting, pulling, squeezing in a rhythm that made Barbara melt. Her thrusting hips began moving faster, her wetness soaking through to the skin.

“OOH...oh yes...yesss,” Barbara moaned, her pleasure rising. Her entire tit danced to the ministrations of Magda’s wicked caresses, her pussy ready to burst, ready to explode. Beseechingly she stared into the older woman’s hypnotic gaze, “Please...I need to cum...I...I want to cum...!”

I HAVE HER, Magda laughed, seizing Barbara behind her head.

“Then close your eyes, Barbara,” she murmured, brushing her lips against Barbara’s own, “Close your eyes and surrender...let Magda take you away...”

The wicked woman began to milk Barbara’s heavy breast, stroking it from base to engorged tip in a slow, steady massage that made Barbara’s toes curl. The entranced blonde could resist her no longer. With a low, helpless moan, her heavy eyes finally fell shut. “Y-yes...ohhh...yesss...mmmmh!”

The moment Barbara’s eyes closed, Magda pulled her forward, devouring her in a ravenous kiss. Barbara’s lips spread wide for her, obediently opening to accept the hot, sinuous tongue that slid foward to plunder her soft, waiting mouth. The wild, wicked sensation, combined with the patient milking of her engorged breast and the desperate thrusting of her hips, sent Barbara right over the edge.

Her cry of submission was muffled by the thick lips wrestling with her own, her pussy creaming against the evil woman’s leg. Her body spasmed, tiny convulsions wracking her torso that would have sent her crashing to the ground if Magda didn’t have her trapped so thoroughly in her torrid embrace. The thrusting tongue delved deeply into her mouth, teasing the entrance to her throat. All thought, all reason, had been driven from Barbara’s lust-soaked mind, and she reacted with pure sexual instinct, opening her jaw, relaxing her throat...and a moment later Magda’s tongue plunged in deeper still.

The orgasm seeemed to last forever. Every time Barbara thought it had passed, another drive of her hips, another squeeze of her breast, or another salivating intrusion by that impossibly-long appendage sent her right back over the edge. She moaned and quivered, sucking mindlessly on the organ plundering her throat. She was helpless in its grip, a lovely doll wracked by suffocating bliss. At last, just when the burning in her airless lungs was almost unbearable, Magda pulled back, releasing Barbara from her sensual ordeal.

Barbara gasped, sucking in a massive breath. But even as her hips continued to twitch sporadically against Magda’s sodden thigh, her emerald eyes stayed helplessly shut. Magda tilted her head back to expose her delicate throat, laving it with the hellishly long flat of her tongue. “Good, Barbara, very good. You needed release, didn’t you? But you need more, darling. Much more....”

“More...yes...” Barbara moaned, “More...touch me more...” The beautiful thief was totally at her mercy now; her body was ready, primed for sex, and her mind so delightfully receptive.

At last, Magda grinned, the time was upon her.

Effortlessly she scooped the entranced blonde up into her arms, and carried her to the wide, waiting bed. She lay Barbara onto her back, her brilliant hair spilling around her like a halo, while her enourmous breasts settled upon her chest with a tantilizing quiver. Magda’s eyes travelled slowly down the length of her lithe torso, until they fell upon the slick, swollen lips of her vulnerable sex.

Like a great bat, Magda crawled atop the prone woman, moving until she lay alongside her. She pulled the mesmerized woman close, brushing her lips against Barbara’s sensitive ear. Sharp fingers began to glide up and down her naked body, tracing over her thighs, weaving across her stomach, and leaving a trail of tingling sensation in their wake. Barbara shifted beneath the caresses, mewling reflexively.

“Do you know where you are, Barbara?” Magda breathed, occasionally letting her tongue slip out to brush wetly against Barbara’s ear. “You are in my bed...”

“B-bed...” Barbara repeated, her brow creasing. It was as if, even in her entranced state, she innately recognized the threat it represented, because all at once her furtive motions began to grow that much more frantic. But her body was far too relaxed, leaden with the lingering warmth of her forced orgasm, and Magda had no trouble keeping her prone. “Your bed...no...not safe...get...get away...”

“Oh, it’s much too late for that, my pet,” Magda chuckled, rolling the back of her fingers casually along the tender slope of Barbara’s right breast. She uncurled her talons, walking the points of her nails slowly down Barbara’s toned stomach. Unlike the mindless meandering of a few moments ago, this time her hand moved with purpose, with lascviscious intent. They crept towards the Barbara’s silky mound, and the hot, wet treasure it guarded. Magda crooned, “And why would you want to leave? Especially when I can make you feel like...this...”

The witch reached down and cupped Barbara’s pussy in her clawed hand, her fingers gliding across her slick nether lips. The practiced touch made Barbara gasp, her hips jumping involuntarily, pushing her sex against Magda’s probing fingers. “Ahh! M-magda...Magda...nnn...ooohh...”

Magda’s fingertips traced paths of tantilizing pleasure up and down the sodden length of Barbara’s labia, teasing her glistening folds with patient, knowing strokes. Almost immediately, the blonde’s paltry struggles melted beneath the erotic assault, any words of protest dissolving into whimpers of submissive pleasure as her pussy helplessly blossomed under Magda’s experienced touch.

Once more, Barbara felt Magda’s steamy breath at her ear. “You know, we’ve done this before, darling,” she said, “From the first night you arrived, I’ve been visiting you as you’ve slept. It’s a simple thing to enchant the mind when it’s in the grip of slumber; for you, my nightly visits have been nothing but wild, erotic dreams. But night after night, I’ve coaxed you to the very heights of ecstacy. Your cries of release nourished me; the pleasure I wrung from your delicious body renewed my strength. Now, at last, my powers have returned in full...and it’s time I made you mine...”

Through all her mellifluous whispering, Magda had continued the steady seduction between Barbara’s legs. Her skillful hand found her clitoris standing hard and proud at the apex of her pussy, where it was swiftly trapped beneath the rolling pad of Magda’s thumb. Slender fingers spread apart her dripping lips, sliding between to find the weeping opening of her pussy. At once, Barbara cried out, her back arching off the bed. Magda’s fingers circled her achingly empty cunt, while her thumb rocked back and forth over her clit.

“Spread your legs for me, Barbara...”

The words were thick with lust, delivered in a tone that made Barbara’s stomach flutter. Even a woman completely free of Magda’s corrupting influence would have felt her pussy quiver at the command, but for Barbara, deeply lost in the witch’s sexual spell, there could be no refusal. “Spread my legs...” she sighed, bending her knees, letting her thighs drift apart, “...yesss...spread...my...oohhh....”

Her obedience was immediately rewarded. The fingers teasing the entrance to her channel suddenly stopped their mad stroking, pressing down, sliding in, while Magda’s thumb began rocking harder and faster against her throbbing clit. Her all-too-eager cunt clamped down on Magda’s digits as they pistoned in and out, delving deeper with every stroke. Barbara groaned, raising her hips off the bed to meet the increasingly dominating thrusts.

“You’re getting wetter, my sweet,” Magda crooned, “Your pussy is getting so hot, so tight. I know all your weaknesses, Barbara. I know just how to get you off...” She sank the fingers of her other hand into Barbara’s poor, neglected tit and began massaging it with intimate familiarity. The vile woman sneered as her beautiful victim cried out, swiftly losing control of her thrusting hips as they rose to meet the increasingly forceful motions of Magda’s masterful finger fuck. “Yesss...give in to the pleasure. Cum for me...” her thumb became a blur against Barbara’s clit, “...now!”

“Yes, oh god YES!” Barbara wailed, her entire body arching off the bed as she exploded on command. Her pussy clamped like a vice around Magda’s thrusting fingers, devouring them, desperate not to let them go even as they pistoned in and out of her. Just as she reached the peak of her hellish bliss, Magda fastened her mouth over her rigid nipple, and furiously began to suck. Barbara’s belly heaved; she collapsed back onto the bed, as the sensation of Magda’s prodigious tongue lashing against her tortured nub sent her flying into one orgasm after another. Magda kept her riding that precipice for long minutes, and was only content to let her rest when Barbara’s hips could no longer meet her thrusts.

She pulled her mouth away, releasing Barbara’s spittle-soaked tit with a wet pop. “Your tits are so wonderfully sensitive, my love,” she taunted, “If I wanted to, I’ll bet I could make you cum just from sucking on them. But you and I both know there is something else you want more...somewhere else you’d rather I use my tongue...” She drew her dripping fingers to her lips, and moaned as she sucked them clean. The heady flavor thrilled her, made her shiver with inhuman delight. The candles flickered around the room, buffeted again by the unseen pressence exhuding from the black form of Magda Crowley. When again the witch opened her eyes, gone was their stormy gray. Instead, her eyes smoldered like hot coals, glowing with a hellish light that made them seem like flames...

...or like twin, blood-red diamonds, glittering in the light.

Her gaze roved across Barbara’s panting form, once more delighting in every delectable curve, every sumptuous inch of flesh, before settling on the sodden mess between her legs, and the wet, inviting sheen clinging to her inner thighs.

She found no resistance as she crawled between Barbara’s wantonly spread legs, caressing them with her monstrous claws and watching her shiver in response. The scent of Barbara’s arousal made her salivate.

“Open your eyes, slave” the older woman commanded, bathing Barbara’s drooling pussy with her hot breath, “I want to look into your eyes when you start to beg.”

Barbara could not help but obey. Her eyelids reluctantantly opened, her emerald orbs glassy and distant. Instantly they were drawn to Magda’s ember-bright stare, trapped, like a deer in headlights. The eyes are the windows to the soul, and Barbara’s were soon dancing with sparks of bright, infernal red. She began to pant, her clitoris absolutely throbbing.

Magda opened her mouth, unleashing her inhuman appendage. She pressed it against the full length of Barbara’s sex, gathering up the flow of copious fluids and making her gasp. The tongue moved like sinuous snake, swiping along her thighs, devouring the wetness that had covered her feverish skin. The tip of the tongue dipped between her swollen labia, spreading them apart. Barbara moaned as Magda dragged the length of her silky tongue over her aching clit.

It only took a few moments, a few long, dominating licks, before Magda had her moaning uncontrollably. “Ohh...oh god, that’s feels...that feels so good...oh my god, I...” she babbled, unable to look away. The panting blonde spread her legs even wider, offering herself completely to the woman between her legs, and her irresistable, conquering tongue. “Your tongue...it’s...it’s setting me on fire...oooohhhh....”

Magda was relentless. She licked and sucked at Barbara’s pussy with consumate skill, alternating her strokes between long and languid motions against her dripping core, and firm, focused attacks on her throbbing clit. She watched Barbara closely, patiently coaxing the helpless woman higher and higher, always careful never to go too far, never to let her cross over the razor edge and fall into orgasm. She lavished her with pleasure, but Barbara’s release...it was hers, and hers alone, to command.

Soon, Barbara was practically babbling, moaning, crying out as she soaked the bed with her juices. At last, when she was sure she would go mad from the pleasure, Magda stopped. She stared into Barbara’s eyes, looking for any shred of remaining resistance, and seeing only the wide, desperate eyes of a woman on the brink of total surrender.

Perfect.

“Do you want me to stop, Barbara?” she breathed, knowing full well the answer. The enraptured blonde was panting, her massive tits heaving atop her chest, as she rapidly shook her head.

“No! Oh please no! I need it. I-I want it!” she whined, thrusting her hips, transfixed by Magda’s unrelenting gaze.

“You want me, don’t you?” the wicked seductress whispered, “You want this pleasure I offer. You want it never to end...”

“Yes, oh yes,” Barbara sighed, “It’s so good...never stop...don’t ever stop...!”

“Beg for it, slave,” she hissed, eyes flashing. “Beg for my touch. Beg for me to enter you, to fill you up...to give you the pleasure you desire.” Her tongue spilled out, it’s tip lodging itself in the entrance to Barbara’s sex. “Beg.”

“Please,” she cried, “Fill me up. Come inside me. I want you, oh god please, I’m begging you, please, make...me....COME!”

Magda’s eyes flared in triumph, “Good little slave...Now...you’re all mine!”

And with that, Magda plunged her tongue into Barbara’s pussy, spreading her open, filling her with a writhing appendage longer and thicker than any man’s cock. Barbara screamed, arching her back, rising off the bed as the orgasm of all orgasms exploded inside her. Her hands seized her own breasts, squeezing them, clawing at them as the pleasure filled her, as the ecstacy overwhelmed her. Magda filled her like no one ever had before, stretching her to her limit, thrusting in and out of her in foot-long strokes that had her trapped in constant, ceaseless orgasm. It was so big...so deep...so...good...!

“YES!! YES! OH GOD...YEEEESSSS!!” Barbara’s screams filled the halls of Crowley Manor, “DON’T STOP, DON’T EVER—AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!”

The creature that was Magda Crowley was only too happy to oblige.

The candles had burned down. The flames extinguished in pools of hardened wax.

The room was utterly silent. Nothing stirred. Nothing moved.

The bed was a ruin. The sheets were in total disarray.

Atop the massive mattress, a woman lay, naked, alone, her blonde hair a bedraggled mess.

Between her parted legs was an old, empty, moth-eaten black dress. A diamond, blood red, lay atop a coil of shining gold chain, glinting hungrily in the dark.

For long moments, the woman lay there, unmoving, unbreathing. As still as death.

Then, all at once, her eyes opened...

The maitre d’ glanced up as he heard the woman approach. He barely managed to maintain his composure, a surprised gasp successfully choked back in his throat. “M-miss Barbara,” he stammered in greeting, shutting the reservation book hastily, “I’m so sorry, no one—I wasn’t informed you’d be joining us...!”

Barbara smiled at him, her perfectly painted lips curling into a bow. “Don’t panic, Jean. I came on a whim. I won’t hold you responsible for the...oversight.”

The tension visibly drained from his taught shoulders, the color slowly returning to his face. The woman was notorious for her temper, and his employment was preceeded by a long line of other men who had not been so fortunate in her mercies. He gestured madly for one of the attendees, who scampered away to ready a private table. The restaurant was packed, the line to enter curving around the block, but they would find her a spot, even if they had to kick someone out to prepare it.

“T-thank you Madam,” he sputtered, “It will only be a moment. Will...will you be dining alone?”

But Barbara didn’t seem to be paying any attention to him. Her eyes were fixed across the restaurant, at a young couple sitting in a small, secluded booth. The man’s back was to them, but his companion was in full view. Young, beautiful, laughing in a way that was lively, contagious...

...innocent.

“I’ll be joining them, Jean,” Barbara said, her eyes staring at the woman with almost predatory hunger. “Bring them a bottle of champagne, then escort them to my table. I want the woman seated next to me...”

The maitre d’ nodded swiftly, summoning up another servant. “Of course, Madam. Is...is there anything else, Miss Cummings?”

“Crowley.”

He blinked. “...Begging your pardon?”

She looked at him. “Crowley. It’s Barbara Crowley now, Jean. Don’t forget it.”

He blanched, “O-of course not, Madam. You have my word.”

Her gaze softened, but only slightly, “See that you don’t.” Barbara trained her eyes once more at the couple in the distance. She licked her lips in anticipation. “Now...I have someone I need to meet...”

She strode off, leaving the poor man practically shaking in her wake. Even after she’d gone, the impression she’d left him lingered fearfully. He shivered, feeling unusually chill.

He hoped he’d never have to see those stormy gray eyes again for a very long time.