The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I always thought the kind of power I found in a South Side pawn shop six months ago required a deal with the devil. I never realized you could just pick up something and without even realizing it become the keeper of incredible power.

When I bought the Pen, it was because the only computer in the house was jealously dominated by my mom. I’m a writer by nature, and ideas don’t stay with me very long, so I have to get it written down A.S.A.P. before something else bumps it out. And my luck with pens was such that I never could get anything written in decent fashion with the dollar-store ball-point pens—I never could get a consistent line, no matter what. And pencils...don’t even get me started.

The Pen caught my eye right off the bat, so to speak. It was beautiful, with lacy gold inlaid with sapphire and jade. I couldn’t find where the ink came from. The pen came to a point like a knitting needle, with no visible place for the ink to come out, and I had no idea where to put the ink to refill it, but it made a beautifully consistent blue line when I drew it across a slip of paper. The pawn broker didn’t seem to notice how beautiful it was. He just said it was nice, and the previous owner had been real eager to sell. Well, now that I know its nature, I can understand why. Anyway, I was happy to pay the two bucks the broker wanted; considering how expensive some of the other pens I had purchased had been, this seemed a bargain.

On the way home I stopped for a cold drink at a local restaurant. There was a beautiful new redheaded waitress named Becky, whom I’d been smitten with for weeks, and with whom I liked to play a little game. I made sure to get one of her tables, and flagged her down. She smiled as she motioned for me to wait while she dropped off another customer’s order. I smiled as I pulled out a slip of paper and my new Pen. During the course of her tending me, I would always slip her a note, complete with my address or phone number and a short message. She never acted on it, but she did get a laugh out of it. What I wrote this time was this:

“1455 Oak St., 8pm

We’ll have wild, passionate sex

and you’ll never want to leave.

Come as you are.

Your love and Master,

Charlie.”

I added a cock-eyed smile to the end of it and palmed the note. I gave her my order, and slipped the note into her pocket when she came by to drop it off. What can I say? I’m a hopeless romantic. I ordered two more sodas and even the chicken-fried steak platter (Mom was cooking meatloaf that night). Becky talked animatedly with me when she had time. She was interested in several of the things I was, and had gotten me interested in a few things I hadn’t thought about before, like tarot and anime. But my main passion was writing. She had often sat during her break and listened to me read something I had typed up during lunch. She had written a couple of things herself, usually between orders, on napkins she kept in order through some contrivance she wasn’t going to share with me. Both were fanfiction. The first was an alternate ending to Project Ako, starting from where the orbital platform was destroyed. The second was a crossover between Darkstalkers and All Purpose Cultural Cat-Girl Nuku Nuku, or something like that. At about ten minutes shy of six, I paid my check and left a generous tip on the table. There was something different about her as I waved a fond farewell to her. She seemed to almost glow with happiness as she blew me a kiss—which she had never done before. Usually by the time I leave, she’s found my note and had her laugh and the look in her eyes tells me “In Your Dreams, you silly, hopeless romantic.” Not this time. Her expression was one of great joy and gratitude, and something else I had only seen in the naughty pictures online. Pure, unbridled lust. I put it out of my mind, figuring she was trying to play a strange, new game with me or something.

By eight o’clock, my homework is usually done, so I get to sit around and mournfully peek in on Mom as she visits one online forum after another, checks one of her twelve (no lie!) email accounts, or opens the word processor to write a story. I sigh. My friends tell me I should stay up until she sleeps and get on the computer then, but she does all her sleeping while I’m at school or work. The one time I stayed home from school because I was sick, I went in there after she fell asleep, and found that she’d put a password-protected screen saver on it. There ought to be a law against those. I seriously want to shoot whoever invented the password-protected screen saver. The grandfather clock in the hall chimed eight o’ clock, and the doorbell rang. I was closer to the latter, so I heard it. I opened the door, and there stood Becky, still in her waitress uniform.

“Becky, um...come in!” I stammered. She smiled and walked in the door. I could see that her nipples were peaked under her uniform. Eagerness was written in every nuance of expression and body posture. I could smell the delicate scent of her arousal. Far be it for me to look a gift horse in the mouth. I invited her upstairs and she followed willingly. As the door closed behind her, she turned on my radio and found a soft station.

“Shall we begin?” she asked huskily. I nodded, silly virgin that I was, not entirely sure what was going to happen next, and she locked the door. She approached me lustily, then about three feet away she dropped to her knees. “What is your bidding, Master?” she asked.

“Um, Becky, why did you call me Master?”

“Because you are.” she said, smiling coyly. “I just didn’t realize it until you wrote that note.”

“The note?”

“Please don’t ask me to explain it.” she half-pleaded. “I’m not even sure of the details myself. All I know is that I knew this as soon as I saw you writing the note, even before you slipped it into my pocket.” Well, having read well the stories of magical pens, I immediately suspected the Pen I had just bought that day. “Please...tell me what you want me to do.” she begged, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Hand me that nametag.” I said. She immediately undid her tag and placed it in my hand. I set it on the nightstand. “Now the bra.” I said. She set about the task of undoing her bra without taking off the uniform blouse. Finally she slipped the bra out from one of the shirtsleeves and handed it to me. “Now the panties.” I said, thoroughly turned on by now. She reached under her skirt and brought her soaking wet panties down to her ankles, then stepped out of them and handed them to me. I took a moment to sniff the sweet aroma of her juices. She looked at me with eager eyes. I wasn’t sure where to go from here. “Have you ever had sex before?”

“A few times.” she breathed. “But it’s been a while. I got myself checked for any diseases, and I’m clean, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No, it’s just that...I haven’t.” She chuckled softly.

“Want me to help you?” she asked.

“If...if you don’t...m-mind.” I stammered.

“All you have to do is give the order.” she breathed, barely audible.

“Do me.” I said. She rose to her feet and came in close.

“Do you wish me to keep the rest of my clothes on?” she asked. I could feel the warmth radiating from her breasts.

“Lose the clothes, and undress me.” I said. She undid the buttons on her bra and dropped it to the floor, then slipped off the skirt. “The shoes too.” I said. Her shiny red pumps came off. She was glorious—everything I’d ever dreamed she could be. She did a little pirouette, showing off. Her trim little red bush glistened, and rivulets ran down her thighs. I lifted my foot, and she got back down on her knees, and took off my right shoe and the sock beneath. She kissed each toe tenderly, sending thrills up my legs, through my balls, all the way up my body. She did the same for the left foot. Then she sat up and pulled my zipper down with her teeth. She undid the button with her hands and pulled my boxers down with her teeth. She sat me down on the bed and pulled my jeans off the rest of the way using her teeth, growling playfully like a little dog. After the boxers were gone, she pulled my T-shirt off over my head. I was a writer, but I wasn’t completely un-athletic. I had decent abs and okay pecs. I worked at the local Brookshire’s and had to do a lot of light to middle-size lifting, so I had some biceps from lifting pet food and such, and a semi-tight butt and legs. I hung my Las Vegas necklace (formerly a key chain) around her neck. She pressed me against the pillow and straddled me.

“Charlie, whose car is that outside?” my dad asked.

“Becky’s.” I called out. “She’s now my mind-controlled sex slave.” I added. Becky giggled, then started to laugh as my dad gave a loud guffaw followed by a “Yeah, right.” Then he asked why she was really here. “We’re studying.” I said.

“Studying what?”

“Astronomy.” I replied. Becky giggled.

“Use a condom.” Dad replied.

“My period ended a week ago.” Becky whispered. “It’s okay. You can come in me all you want.” We heard Dad’s heavy footsteps outside, slowly growing quieter. They sounded fake to me, so I started talking as encyclopedically as I could about pulsars and quasars and black holes and such. Apparently it sounded enough like I was reading from a book to fool Dad, because eventually we heard him walk away for real. My penis had gotten slightly flaccid from the delay, so Becky waddled backward so her face was directly beneath it and began to lick it up and down. She took the head into her mouth and sucked until it was hard again.

“Mmmm...that feels so good.” I said. She smiled and continued her oral ministrations, driving me nearly insane with pleasure, until finally I exploded. She swallowed it as best she could, but some dribbled out and ended up running down my deflating cock. She licked it off, cooing happily.

“I just love the taste of your hot, salty come.” she said. She sucked me until I was hard again. I didn’t know if I was up to another go, but she most definitely was. She straddled me again, lowering herself on my cock. I moaned softly. “You can do better than that.” she said playfully. As she began to move slowly up and down on me, I did do better. So much better that she had to cover my mouth with hers to keep me from making the family suspicious. Her pace increased as she really began to get into the act. I massaged her breasts as she began to fuck me harder. I teased and caressed her nipples, and she moaned in pleasure. I fountained inside her, and she brought me back up again with her mouth, and then we continued. This time I managed to hold back until her orgasm began. I fell asleep then. The last thing I was aware of was Becky as she covered us with the blanket.

I was a little confused when I awoke to find Becky cuddled up next to me, but the memory of the night before came back, like the memories of happy (and not-so-happy) birthdays triggered by the discovery of an old photograph. I gently untangled myself from Becky’s smooth limbs and got up to shower. She was waiting for me when I got out. On her knees on the floor, her legs formed an obtuse angle, her hands woven behind her head, her lips curved upwards in an eager smile, she looked every bit the happy slave girl.

“When do you have to go to work?” I asked.

“I’ll quit today.” she said.

“No.” I said firmly. “I can’t support us both on my salary.”

“But...” she stammered, then lowered her eyes. “Yes, Master.” She didn’t look happy. That was when I remembered one of the important parts of the note I’d written. “And you’ll never want to leave.” I lifted her chin gently with my index finger.

“If you can find us some apartment space, we can move in together. Our two salaries might be enough to subsist on, with a little bit to put back for emergencies.” I told her. She smiled. “You haven’t answered my question.”

“I start work at noon.” she said. I glanced at the clock. It was nearly seven am.

“Take a shower. I’ll lay out some clothes for you to wear temporarily. Take your uniform home and wash it. And give me directions to your place. I’ll meet you there at eight.” She squealed with glee. “Do you have any sexy lingerie?”

“No, Master.” she said sadly.

“It’s okay, we’ll make do.” I caressed her cheek gently. “Now, get started.” She rose and headed for the shower. I gave her a playful little pinch as she passed me. I got out the Pen and a piece of paper, and began to write.

“Becky turned on the water and began to feel very hot. Her arousal only grew as her soapy hands ran over her body. She put a finger in her vagina, thinking of her Master. She knew he had a strange kind of power over her, but she had no fear of it, for she knew her Master had only her best interests in mind. Her pleasure increased, and she inserted a second finger...then a third. A fourth finger entered her vagina, seemingly of its own volition. Her left hand reached up and caressed her breast, and she began to feel a strange tingle. She increased her ministrations, feeling near-orgasmic pleasure as she realized it was part of her Master’s power. The pleasure only increased as her breasts enlarged, growing a full cup size, and becoming so sensitive she felt she could come just by pleasuring them. She felt jealousy, hatred and greed disappear entirely from her mind, and she came powerfully, and yet she remained silent, for to cry out in her ecstasy would betray her Master’s secret.”

I could hear her living out my paragraph even as I wrote it. My dick got hard listening to her. I almost forgot to lay out the clothes she would wear. I put a pair of my drawstring pants and one of my T-shirts on the bed, then put her pumps on top of them. My alarm went off. I turned it off and got dressed. I heard the water turn off. When Becky walked out, she looked so sexy wrapped in the towel with my name on it I wanted to take her right there. But I held back and watched her put on the clothes I had laid out for her. She gathered up her things and gave me a sexy wink before she unlocked the door and walked out. She did have orders to fulfill, after all. I gathered everything I’d need for the day, making sure not to leave the Pen...if someone else came in and got a hold of it, it could cause trouble, and lots of it.

Work was uneventful. I showed up at seven-thirty and helped clean up before the manager unlocked the door, admitting the first few customers of the day. I hauled pet food and sugar and boxloads of cans just like every day. I clocked out at noon to go to school. The only parking space I could find was next to a dirt cake the size of a Buick LeSabre. Well, from the presence of windows (albeit, very very filthy windows), I could tell there was a car under there somewhere. I pulled out a slip of paper and with the Pen wrote “Wash Me” and slipped it under the windshield wiper. Right before my eyes, the dirt and grime (and the slip of paper, for some reason) melted away like so much ice under the hot July sun, leaving the slate-grey Buick LeSabre clean as a whistle. “Cool!” I said under my breath. I silently wondered if the owner would even recognize it. The teacher on duty was looking the other way. I sneakily slipped by him to see if he’d notice. Apparently, he didn’t. I moved on to the cafeteria and got myself a plate of chili cheese fries and a glass of iced tea. I ate with gusto. These were the best chili cheese fries in the county—I should know, I’ve looked.

The varsity and junior varsity cheerleading squads entered the cafeteria, jumping and cheering and beautiful. Everybody our team played against agreed that our cheerleaders were the sexiest in the state. Contrary to the myth, however, they were quite chaste, fearing pregnancy or sexually transmitted diseases. A story idea came to me, and reflexively I flipped over my English study guide and grabbed the first pen I could find. I jotted down ideas as they came to me. “Chaste cheerleaders hypnotized to lower their resistance,” I wrote, “then drugged and brainwashed until they were the fawningly servile sexual property of the one who made them that way.” It seemed like an interesting plotline at the time, and what did I care what pen I was writing with? All I needed was a hero, some specifics on the villain, and... Movement to the sides of me broke my concentration. One of the varsity cheerleaders, a buxom blonde with piercing blue eyes and a heart-melting smile, set her tray down in the place next to mine.

“Mind if we sit here?” she asked, batting her eyelashes.

“Um, n-no, not at all.” I stammered. I caught sight of the Pen in my hand. Shit! I thought, slipping it into the zipper bag with the rest of my pens. I put the study guide and the zipper bag back in my binder and put that back in my book bag. A petite Asian girl who looked like she could easily fold herself into that bag sat on my left, having turned her chair around ass-backward. I was surrounded by two dozen smiling, happy cheerleaders whose only desire was to serve and please me. I managed to excuse myself after the bell rang by giving them instructions to be at my house at seven-thirty that evening. I used pencil on the quiz in English. No one seemed to notice the beautiful gold-inlaid Pen that sat on my desk for fifty-five minutes. No one even asked to borrow it. No one asked about it in algebra, either, except for Wes and Sally, two writer friends of mine with whom I had collaborated (individually, of course) in the past.

“Cool pen!” Sally whispered.

“Where’d you get it?” Wes asked, curiously.

“Pawn shop.” I said, pulling out the mechanical pencil I used for my math assignments, and clicking it twice to advance the lead. “We’ll talk later.”

Fifty-five minutes later, we were out in the hall, dreading the homework we’d have to do. Something else was weighing on my mind, though. I wanted to know what the Pen was, who created it, and why. Struck by a sudden inspiration, I borrowed Sally’s notepad and, on a blank page, wrote “The Pen’s creator shall appear at center stage in the school auditorium as its keeper enters, stage right, and shall remain there until sent away by the keeper.” I led Wes and Sally to the right stage entrance to the auditorium. As I passed the black curtain separating the stage from backstage, there was a blindingly beautiful flash of light, and a regally dressed young gentleman (who didn’t look too much older than me) appeared at center stage.

“I say, young man,” his surprisingly powerful voice said, “I don’t appreciate being transported in the middle of the night.”

“It’s mid-afternoon.” I replied. “Besides, I want some answers.” I held up the Pen for the gentleman to see.

“Maybe it’s mid-afternoon where we are now, boy, but it’s the middle of the night in my kingdom.”

“Just who are you, anyway?” I asked. He advanced, angrily, but encountered a barrier at the place where the masking tape on the floor showed the division between center stage and stage right.

“I see.” he said, angrily. “A prisoner, am I? Fine. You should know it is not wise to incur the wrath of Ali Myrdhynn, young one.”

“Look, all I want is to know about this Pen here.” I said, holding up the Pen and stepping closer so he could see it in more detail. “After that, you can go home and get back on with your life and I’ll never call on you again, I promise.”

“That Pen, my boy, was created three thousand years ago by my own hand.” Ali Myrdhynn said. “I made it for a newly-crowned Chinese emperor after he gave me a number of living samples of the florae and faunae in his garden, as well as his youngest sister, who had no hope of finding a willing suitor due to her distance from the front of the line, so to speak. My driving desire since even before I learned of my gift for magery has always been for living beauty, and these gifts were definitely that. Thus, in gratitude for his fine gifts, I created that Pen, which has the ability, as you have no doubt seen, to manipulate reality.”

“And why is it only the three of us ever gave it a second glance?” I asked.

“A glamour I placed around it places it beneath the notice of anyone who lacks the imagination and verbosity to use it effectively.” Ali Myrdhynn said.

“Any curses I should know about?”

“Ha! You are a paranoid one! No, there’s no curse on it. You are, however, responsible for the consequences of what you write. Every action has consequences.”

“No kidding.” I said. “Like claiming twenty-five young ladies as my own...I doubt I’m going to be able to keep up with those odds.”

“Use your imagination, lad.” Ali Myrdhynn advised. “And the pen.”

“Thanks.” I told the sorcerer. “I’ve taken up enough of your time.” I retrieved the notebook from Sally’s nerveless fingers and in three penstrokes I fulfilled my promise to him. Wes and Sally stood dumbfounded at the space where the sorcerer had been. “So, did you guys think of any questions I didn’t?” They shook their heads in unison, still in semi-shock from the powerful Presence of the sorcerer, and the gravity of what he’d had to say. I was indeed the keeper of a great power. I had a responsibility to use it wisely from now on, instead of the haphazard way I’d been going about it until now. With Sally’s notepad still in my hand, I jotted a few notations on what I felt would be the ideal strength, stamina, and endurance for someone in my situation. I’d need all of it if I was to satisfy twenty-five lusty young women tonight.