The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Lemma the Librarian

Of Potions and Pimples, Part Two

Much to my annoyance, I came back to find someone kneeling in front of Iason, her hands on his knees.

I coughed. “Am I interrupting something?”

Iason turned, looking not the least embarrassed or annoyed that I caught him seconds before a blowjob. “Lemma! I think we’ve got a lead.”

When he turned, it revealed the face of the girl in front of him: Skank. “A lead?” I said. “Is that what you call it in your part of town? Where I come from, we call it a blowjob!”

“Huh?” he said. “Gods, no, Lemma! She was asking for help.”

“Sure. Help. You help her with her lack of cash, she helps you with your excess of sperm.”

“Dammit, Lemma, why are you being so unreasonable? Tskanka doesn’t do things like that! She’s in trouble, and needs help!”

Skank sniffled loudly. I hate it when they do that. Makes it ever so much harder to set them on fire.

“Actually,” she said, “I- I do. That’s how this started.” She burst out crying. “I know it’s the punishment I deserve from the gods, but I can’t bear it! Please, I promise I’ll be chaste from now on, just help me please!”

I sighed and plopped myself down on a nearby rock. “All right. We’ll hear what you have to say.”

She sniffled again. “Thank you, oh thank you!”

“No promises,” I said sharply. “Now spill.”

Iason was glaring at me. Well, screw him. Just because he wanted to bone the girl didn’t mean I had to help her.

Skank took a deep breath, then began spilling the story out rapidly and confusedly. The gist of it was, some local hedge wizard had come to her inn and bought a night of her “services”. She had been overwhelmed with attraction to him from the start, and soon found herself doing far more than he’d paid for. Soon, she found herself returning to him, needing what only he could give her. He was controlling her, manipulating her, and he had plans to claim other women.

“That’d explain the river,” I said when she was done.

“River?” asked Iason.

“There’s a residue of magic clinging to it, a spell to cause arousal in women. I first picked it up in our watered-down wine. It’s weak, but has a cumulative effect over a long time. That town’s probably going to produce a lot of babies in the next few months.”

“Right,” said Iason. “That settles it. Tskanka, lead us to him!”

“One moment,” I said. I smiled sweetly at Skank. “Would you excuse us a moment while I talk to my partner briefly?”

Iason gave Skank a half-apologetic shrug, and we put our heads together. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Are you crazy?” I said. “We can’t go with her. She’s admitted to being under his control—she’s probably leading us into a trap!”

“If she were going to lead us into a trap, would she tell us she’s controlled?”

“Possibly,” I said. “If the control is incomplete, or she’s fighting it, she might lead us right to her master and then turn on us. That might even be what he’s planning.”

“What, you don’t think you can handle her?”

“Ha ha,” I said. “The point is, we don’t want to come walking in at exactly the time and place he expects! We have no idea what book he has or what it allows him to do, which means we need the advantage of surprise.”

“I guess you have a point,” Iason said.

“Of course I do,” I said. “I’m a genius, remember? Not to mention beautiful and powerful.”

“Not to mention modest.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. “All right,” I said, “so here’s my plan.”

* * *

Iason stormed angrily over to Skank. “Screw you, Lemma!” he shouted back over his shoulder.

“Go to Hell!” I snapped back. “And take your little girlfriend with you!”

“I’ll see you there! Come on, Tskanka. She’s not going to help you, but I will.”

“Oh, get a room!” I shouted, and plopped down on my rock. Iason might not like my plan, but it was still the best way to take this guy down and get the book from him. First, though, I had to kill some time, and it was pleasantly warm here on the rock, in the sun. I stretched, yawned, and curled up for a quick nap.

I woke naked, bound to the rock. Four cloaked and hooded figures stood over me, one on each side and one each at my head and feet. The ones at my sides lightly, teasingly stroked their fingertips over my arms and belly, and I shivered. It was dark, and cold, and the moon was bright and full. It hung low, pregnant with light, and I could feel its cool touch joining with those delicate, maddening fingertips.

They were chanting something, too low for me to make out words. I could feel their chant twisting the light, twining it around me in dark, ritual magic. My thoughts were getting slower, more sluggish, but my senses were becoming heightened. It felt good. It felt right.

The woman—somehow, I could tell all but one of the figures were women—at my head leaned down and began whispering in my ear. My brain was slow, so slow. I couldn’t keep up with what she was saying, but that was okay. I nodded and smiled and murmured agreement. Whatever she was saying, I just felt too warm and comfortable and intensely horny to argue.

Slowly, it occurred to me that I recognized her voice. It was Skank! Which meant I’d been captured by her master, just as I’d feared would happen. Oh well. If I was doomed anyway, I might as well enjoy it.

The man at my feet stepped forward, and his hood fell away to reveal Iason. “Hello, Lemma,” he smirked.

“Iason?” I asked. Or tried to, anyway. It came out more like “Yspln?”

“Relax,” he said. “Surrender to me, and receive your reward.”

Surrender sounded great. He was removing his robe, so I could guess what the reward was, and I wanted it as much as I’d ever wanted anything.

“You will be mine once more, and I will rebuild,” he continued.

Once more? When... wait, since when could Iason do this? “You’re... not Iason,” I managed to say thickly.

“You’re right,” he answered. “I transferred my mind into his body as he killed me, and have been slowly taking over since. Now that this body is mine, I shall build up followers and retake my castle. You will be firmly and fully mine this time, and I will never be defeated.”

“Lord... B-brinksmoor,” I stammered as he spread my unresisting legs, positioning himself between them.

“Master,” he corrected, and I knew it was true. I would never, could never escape. I didn’t want to escape.

“Master!” I gasped out as he entered me.

I jerked awake. It was late afternoon, and I was lying, unbound and fully clothed, on the rock. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and sat up, trying to ignore the fact that I was squishing. The thing I wanted most in the world, at that moment, was to jam my hand down my pants and finger myself while chanting the word “Master” over and over again. But I resisted the urge, and hopped down off the rock.

I stretched. I’d rested more than long enough; time to get this over with. I began walking swiftly upstream, and before nightfall I reached a little waterfall, covering the entrance to a cave. This was it. I could sense the book inside.

I took a deep breath. I was feeling hot and flushed and dizzy. I’d think I was coming down with a fever, if not for the incredible horniness coming along with it. No, this was definitely that stupid spell still working on me. Whatever.

“All right!” I announced as I walked into the cave. “I’m in a real bad mood, so whoever the hell you are, get out here so I can kick your ass!” Or fuck your brains out, I didn’t add. Maybe I’d do both, if I could decide what order to do it in.

A figure stepped out of the shadows at the rear of the cave, and I could only stare, mouth agape. “You!?” I gasped. “You’re the mind-controller?”

He blushed and smiled sheepishly. “Hi,” he said. He was a couple of years younger than me, tall and gangly and very pale, with a huge schnozz and a mop of pale-yellow hair. His face was pitted and scarred with pimples, and I felt a dash of empathy. Not that I ever had a problem with pimples, of course. I was most certainly not ever a skinny, pimply girl with poofy hair, and that semester of Cosmetic Magic was totally a mistake. Really! I thought they meant astrology or something. Look, just shut up and listen to the story, all right?

Where was I?

Right, pimples. I mean, he wasn’t a bad looking kid, really. Give him a couple of years, an exercise program, and some acne cream, and he’d be sort of cute. Oh, and a nose job.

All right, fine, so I was just insanely desperate to get laid. Point is, I held on to my head and kept barreling along. “You have a book of magic,” I said. “It doesn’t belong to you. Give it to me, and I might not set all your internal organs on fire.”

“Which book?” he asked. “I’ve got tons.”

“Huh?” I said. That was not the answer I’d been expecting. Nor was it the one I’d been hoping for, which involved him pushing me down to the floor and having his way with me.

Dammit, the spell was way stronger in here. What the hell was it? I looked around the room, but there didn’t seem to be any answers in here. For all that it was inside a cave, the room was done up as a fairly comfy sitting room, with overstuffed armchairs and chintzy little tables.

“Tskanka!” he called back into the cave. “Bring out my books.”

“Yes, master!”

I gave him a reproachful look. “So you’re controlling her mind. Proud of yourself?”

“Hey!” he protested. “It’s not my fault!”

I didn’t say anything. I was worried that if I did, I would ask him to do me next.

Skank looking decidedly groped and very pleased with herself, emerged with a small box containing a dozen books. “Master has the largest collection I’ve ever seen!” she said proudly.

“Yeah...” How am I supposed to make fun of ridiculous barbarians when they do it to themselves for me? Inconsiderate, that’s what I call it. “That’s, uh, swell. So, Skank, what happened to Iason?”

“The big guy with the sword?” asked Skank’s controller. “Locked in the storeroom.”

“That idiot.” I glared at Skank. “I told him not to trust you.”

“Don’t be so hard on her,” said the controller. “She was telling the truth. It was only after I came upon the two of them in the storeroom, looking for my books, that she had her change of heart.”

“Whatever.” I walked over to the books. “That’s the one,” I said, pointing at the leatherbound copy of Cosmetick Magicks Faire and Foul: Fourth Student Edition.

Wait, what?

I whirled on the controller. “I’ve used that book! There’s no mind control spells in there. Who the hell are you?”

“I,” he said with a flourish, “am Maxithaumicius, the great and powerful sorcerer, soon to be known throughout the lands!”

“Right,” I said. “Pull the other one, kid.”

He sighed. “Fine. My name’s Steve. But one day—”

“Whatever,” I said. “Where the hell’d you get the spell you’ve been pouring in the river?”

“River?” He looked at the cave entrance. “Oh no, it’s been getting in the river, too?”

I pulled out one of the chairs and sat on my hands to keep them still. If I didn’t get some answers soon, I was going to strangle him, assuming I could keep my hands out of my pants and his. Godsdammit, but I was going crazy! I just had to stay focused on being pissed, and on getting the book and Iason and getting out of here without getting screwed. Physically or mentally.

Steve turned back to me. “Please!” he begged, desperation written across his face nearly as clearly as the acne. “Help me!”

Help him? I was the one about to explode! He should help me! “Uh, help you with what?” I asked.

“It’s happening to you, isn’t it?” he asked. “You’re getting, uh, horny.” His voice squeeked a little at the last word. “You’re controlling yourself well, but you’re going to snap any moment aren’t you?”

“Ungh...” I groaned. “I’ve got,” I licked my lips, “a lot more control than you give me credit for.”

“You shouldn’t fight it,” said Tskanka. “Being Master’s slave is wonderful. I always forget that when it wears off, but I’m always drawn back to him. You will be, too, forever.”

“It started when Master Hengrod died a few months ago,” Steve explained.

“He was a healer. Master was his apprentice,” Skank added.

“I don’t care if he was a professional hamster-groomer,” I snapped. “I wants my book, ya dig?” I took a deep breath and tried to calm down. I was in a worse mood with every passing second. A voice in the back of my head was whispering how awesome it would be to fuck Steve and Skank and anybody else I could find until I couldn’t see, to descend back into the slavery I craved.

I mean, the fucking. I craved the fucking, not the slavery. I am an independent, liberated woman of Lemuria, a sorceress and a professional and one tough cookie. I do not enjoy being enslaved, thank you very much. That had to be the spell talking.

Anyway, I needed to stay calm until I could convince him to give me a good, rough, hard—uh, hardback book. Yeah. I couldn’t just snatch it; the book was only a generation old, so the spells in it hadn’t been used much and weren’t very powerful. Problem was, because it was so young, it might hurt itself struggling. I had to get Steve to give it to me (give it to me now, give it to me fast and I’ll do anything you want), so it would recognize me as its owner.

Steve gave me a canny look. Well, as canny as Tin Islanders get, which is to say, he looked liked he had gas. “I’ll give it to you if you help me.”

Fuck. Fuckety fuck on a hot fuck sundae with whipped fuck and sprinkles. “What do you need?” I asked breathily. I looked up at him from half-lidded eyes. I couldn’t help it.

“Um...” he looked embarrassed. And more than a little turned on. He swallowed and closed his eyes. “Help,” he squeaked. “I need to find a cure! I haven’t left the cave in weeks!”

“Cure?” I asked. Not what I was expecting. My shrieking, demanding, aching, dripping pussy didn’t care, but my brain was still running the show for the moment.

Bit by bit, Steve dribbled out his story. He was, it appeared, an idiot. More of one than was obvious, I mean. The short version: he’d whipped up one of the most basic spells in the book, an acne cure. Except that he didn’t know what a lemon was, or rosemary, or half a dozen other plants the salve called for. So he guessed.

“You have got to be fucking me. Kidding me. Fucking kidding me.” I bit my tongue for a second and mentally screamed at my hormones to shut up. “You just slapped a bunch of plants together, pumped some magic to it, and then smeared it on your skin? You’re lucky to be alive!”

“Smeared it?” he asked. “Of course! I thought it tasted nasty.”

I gave up sitting on my hands so I could bury my face in them. Just when you think people can’t be any dumber...

I kept my hands there because it felt good. My thumbs, seemingly of their own accord, began tracing the softest little circles over my earlobes. “So... ah... what did it do to you?” My voice was high-pitched and small. Had to quit playing with my ears... I brought my hands down to rest on my thighs, where my fingers started stroking, lightly, impulsively, completely-not-helping-ly.

“Well, uh... women get turned on being around me. If it’s in an enclosed space it’s really strong. Found that out in the inn with Tsanka. And, uh, once we, uh...”

“Fuck...” I whispered helpfully, gazing up at him with big eyes. It must have altered his skin like it was supposed to, give him an aphrodisiac scent of some sort. Which meant there was no way I could have resisted it. I didn’t have to feel bad about that.

“Yeah, uh, after, she became my slave. For a few days, until it wears off, and she’s immune for a couple of days. But even then if I gave an open-ended order she has to keep obeying it.”

I had a sudden mental image of the future: after days of helpless obedience to his every perverted, twisted desire, I recover my free will at last. I try to escape, and he utters the implanted word that makes me go completely limp. For days more I sit there while the dark scent that makes me want him surrounds me, fills me, until I am insane with lust and unable to act. Then, finally, he says the word that releases me, and I throw myself at him, knowing it will make me his slave once more, but powerless to contain my need.

“Oh, fuck,” I whispered, and jumped him. He yelped and tumbled over backwards, while I tried to simultaneously cover every bit of skin I could reach, mostly his face, with kisses, feel him through his robes, and struggle out of my own clothes. I was not very successful.

“Tskanka!” he called in panic. “Help!”

“Of course, Master!” she chirped, and rushed over help me out of my clothes. In hindsight, I don’t think that’s what he had in mind.

A moment later, Steve lay, half-stunned, on the floor, but the part of him that mattered was standing straight up. That was all the invitation I needed to push myself down on him, hard and fast. I bucked my hips wildly, desperately on top of him. “Fuck me,” I babbled. “Fuckmefuckmefuckme!”

“Shit,” he panted, grasping my waist in an effort to take my control. “I guess,” pant, “one more slave,” pant, “won’t kill me,” pant. “And then,” pant, “you won’t have,” pant, “any choice but to,” pant, “help me.”

“Ohhhh yes!” I shouted. “Fuck me, please fuck me, make me your slave, make me do anything just fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!” I practically sang the last word, as everything exploded in pleasure and little sparkly lights.

But I still wanted more. I kept going, bucking wildly as he thrust up into me, cumming again and again, riding higher every time. Finally he gave a shudder, his breath caught, and he spurted up into me.

I kept on going, but I could feel him shrinking and trying to push me off. “Get off and get dressed,” he ordered.

I kept pumping while I waited for the compulsion to obey to replace the compulsion to fuck. It was taking its sweet time.

“I said, get off and get dressed!”

Well, shit. I still had free will. Sort of. If by “free will” you mean “desperate need to keep fucking until I pass out.”

“Tskanka!” Steve shouted. “It’s not working! Pull her off me!”

Tskanka rushed forward to grab me, but I pivoted right around on Steve’s cock without breaking my rhythm—someday I’ll have to tell the story of how I learned that trick—and nailed her with a quick-and-dirty paralysis spell from the knees down. The rotation had the added bonus of getting Steve hard again. He groaned and I grinned. I was getting fucked; all was right in the world.

Of course, since I was turned around and more than a little distracted, I didn’t notice Iason enter from the back of the cave. First I noticed him was when he knocked Steve out and dragged me from the cave. I, of course, spent that time doing the obvious, logical thing to do in that sort of situation: I humped his leg.

* * *

Half an hour later, I was dressed and curled on the grass outside the cave entrance, trying not to notice how horny I was and watching Iason drag the hog-tied Steve and Skank out of the cave. He’d followed his part of the plan perfectly—pretend to fight with me, go with Skank to the cave, let himself be captured, and break out and hit the wizard from behind while I distracted him.

Only flaw was, I got distracted, too. Was still distracted, really.

“How?” croaked Steve.

“I’m a six-foot armored man with a six-and-a-half-foot sword that can slice through dragon vertebrae like butter,” said Iason. “You really thought a storeroom would hold me?”

“I don’t think that’s what he’s asking,” I said. “He’s asking how I didn’t become a slave.”

“Become a—” asked Iason, surprised, before I waved at him to sit and listen.

“Well, Steve, to answer your question: Tskanka became your slave the instant your semen touched her. That’s what happened when you decided to be the king of all idiots and eat a salve you hadn’t even made properly in the first place!” I broke off a second to calm down. I was still pissed at getting so thoroughly snared by a guy who probably needed three tries and a visual aid to remember how to put his robes on in the morning. “The salve sort-of did what it’s supposed to do, alter your skin. But because you’re too stupid to catch a clue with clue-bait and a net—”

“Oh, I like that one,” said Iason.

“Thanks.” I turned back to Steve. “Because you’re an idiot and drank it, it altered your bodily fluids in order to get at your skin. Your sweat and your semen, specifically. It made your sweat a potent aphrodisiac, affecting any woman that smells you or the river you’ve been bathing in. And it made your semen a powerful potion of enslavement—which is why it only lasts a few days before you need to add more.”

“But I did cum in you!” he protested.

“Pfft,” I said. “I went to a school that taught magic to teenagers. Any girl who couldn’t cast Troia’s Monthly Incorporeal Condom by the time she was twelve was pregnant before she was fourteen. Your cum never touched me.”

“Okay,” he said. He must have been scared out of his wits, because I could feel my need rising steadily. “Great. Everybody’s fine, now you can cure me and we’ll all go our separate ways?”

I grinned wickedly. “Suuuure. But, of course, you’re gonna have to pay me first...”

* * *

An hour later I walked happily along the river, cradling my lovely little newly recovered Library book in my arms. Iason walked beside me, stealing glances at me whenever he thought I wasn’t looking.

“What?” I asked. “Did the sight of my gorgeous, naked body fill you with naughty thoughts? It’s perfectly understandable, but please, try to remember that I am a lady.”

“I was just thinking that, actually,” he answered. “’Man, she is one scary lady.’”

“Oh, I’m not so bad.”

“Lemma, you set him on fire.”

“It was an important part of the spell!” I protested. “I needed to cleanse him. When his skin finishes growing back, it’ll be perfectly normal. In the meantime, the pain’ll help him remember not to mess with magic.”

“Lemma. You set the kid’s balls on fire!.”

“Yeah...” I grinned. “That was awesome. Anyway, now he’ll never enslave anyone again. End of problem.”

“And ‘accidentally’ setting Tskanka’s hair on fire, too? What problem did that solve.”

“I like fire.”

“You could have really hurt her! She was an innocent!”

“Meh.”

“You’re going to get us in serious trouble some day, little scary lady.”

I stuck my tongue out at him and then rushed on ahead, laughing. The next book was waiting! Whoever had it, whatever defenses they put up, I’d find them, and no matter what they did, I’d win. I’d take on as many idiot Tin Islanders as they could throw at me, and I’d beat them all. Because I’m smarter than them, prettier than them, better at magic than them.

And because, no matter what else happens, there’s always more fire.