The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Mundane Application

There lies, in a bustling college town, a manor. Not neccesarily a full blown mansion (Mr. Rutherford was never a fan of the gaudy), but the sort of place that screams to passerby “Behold! Money!” in such a way that, for years and years, whispers would fly to and fro among the residents of the city about the eccentricies of the resident. And to be fair to the old wives circles and drunken parties, Mr. Rutherford acted about as eccentric as you’d expect. He had a few odd habits, such as his insistence that his milk still be delivered to the front door. However, he still got out to exchange pleasantries with others of his kind, and was overall a thoroughly uninteresting character. The real story of the place begins with a man who spent most of his time in the study.

Mr. Rutherford had a problem. Living in a town where booze flew free and law enforcement slacked on the job, the crime rate distressed him greatly. While he tied up most of his fortune beyond the risk of a petty thief, his increasingly frail body was not. He found the home security options avaliable to him wanting - until he met Cliff. Cliff did security, though not of the sort that anyone outside of the fabulously wealthy would be able to afford. One evening, he pondered this unfortunate inequality as he waited for potential thieves. Or was it really unfortunate? He did like having the results of his handiwork entirely to himself.

The familiar sound of ferocious knocking came from downstairs. Despite being a commonality, Cliff’s ears couldn’t help but perk up in excitement. What sort of prize would he collect this evening?

Petty thieves come from all walks of life. Some were genuinely desperate, living on the streets and willing to risk anything to approach a “normal” quality of life again. Cliff usually didn’t mess with those types. The real prize manifested as the hammered athletes from the nearby University, because any remorse he might feel was melted away in sheer lust.

"It always happens the same way." he mused to himself as he tuned in with his tablet. In they come, trying to be as quiet in spite of their elated state, making threatening gestures in the general direction of the butler who tended to the bottom floor that evening. Mr. Griffith, as usual, immediately backed off. And then they saw the first Sigil. Cliff always drew them with animal blood, partially because it stood out against the wallpaper, partially because it easily caught the attention of the terrified human mind. It was perfect for the sort of gawking horror he wanted to invoke in the visitors. He pondered what thoughts raced through the two boy’s heads - Is this guy some kind of Satanist? Are there dead bodies underneath our feet? - as their brains were pounded by the image with commands that would give them a very different kind of evening.

Once the first marking applied itself, the rest flowed easily. The two proceeded up the stairs with much simpler commands than the trap that lay below - “Proceed”, “Fascination”, and on the door, “Open”. As their trembling hands opened the door, Cliff got his first good look at the two boys. The first of the two stood at 6 feet or so. Were it not for the altered state of mind they were in, his extremely toned stature, blonde crew cut, and so-called Alpha habits would likely command quite a bit of respect. His presumed subordinate demonstrated that opposites attracted quite cleanly. Quite a bit shorter than his superior, he made up for it with bulk and medium-length black hair that framed his face. The first thing that came to mind when Cliff looked was “bull”, though he certainly wouldn’t be acting that part.

Though once they entered they had already crossed the Rubicon, the true moment of surrender still got Cliff going the most. Coming into the room staring straight ahead, they never noticed the strange marking beneath them. It was the simplest command in the whole place, but Cliff liked to reinforce it daily to preserve its effect. As the two former burglars stepped forward, their entire being, all of the subtle commands and prompts they received on their way up, were blasted away by a single word - OBEY. Their expressions melted into blank stares as a total lack of emotion washed over them. Cliff considered them for a moment before barking his characteristic “Atten-shun!” This tended to wake the live-in staff, but they were used to it by now. The two specimens snapped quickly - they had been taught well.

Cliff gestured them to the center of the room and then began to examine the evening’s catch. He ran his hands along the outline of the blonde’s frame, surprised to find a hard-on hiding in the boy’s basketball shorts. Teased by the missus, perhaps? Not that it mattered - fate doomed him to become rock-hard when he walked in the door to begin with. Taking off the shirt, the boy’s body looked almost completely shaved, save for some fuzz on his arms. Cliff turned his attention to the bull, noticing the intense glare he sent straight ahead. If he expressed his obedience like this, no wonder the other took the lead. While not nearly as toned as his friend, his enormous biceps and fur made him an excellent contrast.

"Firstly, I am Sir to you. Now, who are you boys and what were you doing here?" The bull responded first.

"My name is Peter, sir! I was here on a dare from my bro, sir!" So this one got pressured into this dumb break-in. Cliff almost felt bad. Almost. The other one took a little longer - his expression of obedience, slack-jawed and empty, indicated he didn’t do much of it.

"My naame is Nick.. sir… came here tuh swipe some shit or somethin… dunno…" The boy’s heist planning left much to be desired..

"Boys, lose the clothes and lay down." Cliff said as he reached for his temporary pen. Peter dropped quickly to the floor, still rapt at attention - Nick looked like he had passed out. Fortunately, he’d get a nice jolt of energy, especially since Cliff began on him first. These symbols came the most naturally to him - every one of his kind had a group they wrote with haste, and Cliff had always had an affinity for the explicitly sexual. After a short pondering, Nick received Horny, Body, and Other. His slow mental state would take a bit to affect the changes, so Cliff moved on to Peter. Peter responded quickly to his change, snapping back up once again.

"Sir! I am an object for your use, sir!"

"Object, I’d like to use you as a chair." As the last syllable exited Cliff’s mouth, Peter was already on the floor, his back almost perfectly straight. This was always a bit risky, but the stout boy looked like he could handle it. As Cliff took his seat, Nick slowly began to come to with a new, singled-minded focus.

"Dude… your bod.." The youth licked his lips in anticipation as he made his way over to Cliff. For his part, Cliff began to give in to his desire and slowly stripped down. As the enthralled worshipper crept towards him, Cliff occupied his furniture with some gropes and teasing. Like a good object, the boy remained silent, not even letting out a grunt in spite of his rock-hard erection.

Cliff has managed to undress by the time Nick made it to him, and Nick threw his tongue upon Cliff’s body. He started at the feet, trying to get up everything that he could and bathing in the figure of, to him, a complete Adonis. His hands strayed to Peter’s frame, lightly massaging it as his tongue worked on Cliff. After being swatted away from the dick, he moved on to the chest, completely getting up every last drop of the arousal-induced sweat Cliff had. Peter, too, had begun to pant in spite of himself. Eventually, completely overwhelmed with arousal, he collapsed into Cliff’s lap, stuffing his face into the crotch.

Cliff lightly pushed the dazed Nick off of him, and he fell to the floor, tongue hanging out like an exhausted dog. He slipped off of Peter as well, though the boy looked no worse for the wear and quickly said “Sir! What should I be now, sir?” Cliff knew the head resting on Peter’s back would tell him everything he needed to know as he lightly stroked. Normally at this point, Cliff might grant release, his urges sated for the evening. But this evening defied normality. He grinned as he realized that two of his thralls recently left the town - which meant two new slots on his self-imposed limit. Dragging his on-fire body off the floor, he ran his fingertips across the key book. Revolving bookcases were something of a cliche, but Cliff had always liked them.

"Into that room, boys." He gestured to the revealed, dark room. "There’s a hot body in there" he threw in, leading Nick to only be slightly slower than Peter in his obedience. He stepped in, closing the passage behind him, and reached for another pen - this one, the long-term ink. "Peter, chain your bro up, and then lay down next yours." Nick quietly moaned for the promised hottie as Peter slipped the restraints on before laying down next to his. While traditional chains were likely unnecesary, Cliff had enough experience to know that a little paranoia never hurt a sex slave collector.

With Peter’s last cuff snapped, Cliff prepared for one of his favorite sensations - the unleashing of his inner sadist. Raising his hand high, he clicked his fingers. “Release.” The effects were minimal at first - somewhat dazed, disoriented, but didn’t take long for the screaming to begin.

"YOU FAGGOT! THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO US?!" screamed Nick at the top of his lungs, struggling against the chains. Peter, likely used to letting Nick do the talking, just mumbled a series of expletives underneath his breath. "WHEN I GET OUT OF THESE YOU ARE DEAD, BITCH." See, Cliff thought, they always had it backwards on who the bitch was. It’s not his fault he had to reeducate all these coincidentally attractive people.

"Oh, boys, you don’t know what you got yourselves into." Cliff whispered as he dipped the permanent pen into the vat. It always sent a chill up Cliff’s spine - markings made with this were not to be taken lightly, and had spelled the end of a writer on many occasions. Fortunately, Cliff had no such issues. "You going to keep screaming, or would you like to know exactly what’s going to happen to you?" Nick had degenerated into gibberish. Cliff applied the nearby duct tape to solve the issue, at which point the energy devoted to shouted was directed into a glare.

"Well, Peter, you seem a bit more inclined to follow, so I’ll ask you the questions. What year are you two?" Peter looked at Nick. After receiving a nod, Peter sighed and looked back at Cliff.

"We’re both Freshman… sir." Peter winced. If he could’ve, Nick probably would’ve gasped.

"Ahaha, lovely, I get to keep you both for four years." Both of the boy’s eyes grew wide with terror - more nights like that, for four years?! Cliff leaned back and bathed in the tradgedy. "Yes, it’s true. You two are going to be added to my personal little harem. You really did come at the best time, what with two of them leaving." Peter resumed his string of expletives and struggled against the chains with new ablomb, while Nick thrashed with even more force. Cliff began tracing a temporary sigil on the wall in advance as he enjoyed the sound of their exhausted bodies pounding against the floor.

Stopping with one stroke left, he moved to Nick first. resting his hand on the bare chest of the boy. He decided on a spot in the lower right of his stomach and began to trance. The pen, fortunately, compelled stilness. Otherwise, these jobs would be quite difficult indeed. Cliff wondered whether Nick felt too afraid to cry, or merely held the tears back. He decided not to find out as he finished the last stroke. But he still knew there was some emotional anguish to extract.

"You know, I bet Nick’s quite disappointed in you." He remarked to Eric as he began the "Time" sigil. "He was counting on you, as a bro, to help him. And look what mess you two are in. And you," Cliff pointed to Nick, "are really a horrible leader, bringing him into my clutches like this. And if you couldn’t resist my commands, how could you expect someone so loyal to you to resist? Really, I’ll take much better care of either of you than you ever could." Soon "obey" followed, and then the "writer" finished it off. The two were, in this case, identical. Cliff strolled back to the wall.

"But it’s not all bad, you know. You will know sexual pleasure beyond compare. And you’ll get nicely paid to cover not being able to hold a job. You’ll still go to school, of course, can’t have people getting suspicious." He examined the wall sigil, making a small mark in it to allow its effect to hit him as well. He raised a pen and brought it down, shouting "SUBMIT!"

The wall-covering sigil soon bathed all three men’s minds in the sheer bliss of orgasm, adding another deposit of it to the well-worn room. The markings on Nick’s stomach and Eric’s neck sunk in, disguising themselves as birthmarks and rewiring the brains of the helpless slaves. The pleasure further cemented the change, dooming them to accepting it as a positive experience down the line. Cliff, albeit with quite a bit more control, also bathed in the warm embrace of pleasure, feeling a surge of dominance rush through him. Cliff slowly setlled back down into reality, the newly minted slaves marked with streaks of white and sweat.

He couldn’t keep them tonight, unfortunately, as people would wonder where they were. Cliff enjoyed the two of them showering together and then sent them on their way, only barely aware of what had transpired. After tidying up his study, Cliff returned to his chair, content with the payment he had received for that evening.