The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

More than two weeks had passed since the woman had called at his house seeking his support for her petition. Peter had not taken advantage of her physically, but had enjoyed himself immensely, watching her pleasuring herself to the point of near exhaustion as she reached peak, after peak, after peak, while she stood naked before him.

He had thought of it at the time, and had nearly succumbed at one point when the woman had reached a highly intensified state in her orgasmic rapture. Somehow though, he had managed to restrain himself, preferring instead to pass on the dizzy heights of the passion and raw lust rampant at that moment between his thighs and in his mind to his wife that evening, which he did, pleasuring himself and her many times over, until they both lay speechless and exhausted from his superhuman effort.

Peter knew for certain now that there was something strange and unusual about his silver ring. It had a power of some, but not over others. He had tried it out on the guys at work, but with no effect.

Yet every woman who became aware of the ring’s presence fell under its hypnotising power almost immediately, and with complete amnesia for everything that had been said or done after fixing their gaze on the mesmerising blue jewel.

He had only tried small tests of the ring’s power with the women from work, as well as his wife and daughter. He wanted to gain more and more knowledge first-hand from his efforts about the ring’s powers, and exactly what he could do with it.

But to date, all Peter had discovered was that its power only seemed to affect females, and then, only in varying degrees. Each and every one of the females, including his own daughter seemed different in their responsiveness to his suggestions.

Peter visited the library in search of the meaning of the characters around the ring’s band, even enlisting a local university student who majored in ancient languages to help.

His name was Bill. He was a friend of one of his wife friends. They had met at an afternoon party, hosted by the group wives’ association in their fund-raising efforts.

He liked Bill, but so far, no new information had come to light that would explain the meaning of the symbols surrounding the silver band, either from Bill, or from the extensive research he had been carrying out daily at the library.

Of course, he had not let on to Bill about the power the ring seemed to have over the female gender-only the strange writing around the band. Bill had been enthusiastic, but luckless to date with his efforts.

One day, Peter received a call from Bill asking him to meet at the university that evening. Bill wanted to introduce him to someone who might be able to help in the deciphering of the hieroglyphics on the ring. Peter readily agreed and looked forward to the meeting. Maybe now he would find out something about the ring’s history after all.

The person Bill introduced him to that evening was Bill’s main university lecturer-Professor Ruth King, an expert in medieval and ancient languages and symbolic communication in all forms known to man.

Ruth King was in her early forties-an unattractive, nondescript woman who seemed very friendly, and, who seemed to Peter to be very knowledgeable on the subject of languages and communication.

Bill’s teacher had a nice figure-tall and solid, Peter noticed as he listened attentively throughout her initial talk.

He wondered how different her personality would be if her facial looks would have been a little more appealing to the eye.

Bill’s teacher seemed very enthusiastic and keen to question Peter about how he came by the ring, yet when Peter questioned her back at some points in their conversation, Professor Ruth King became suddenly vague and evasive, tending to laugh off his questions as those posed by a laymen who couldn’t have understood her answer, even if she had given him one.

Then strangely, Ruth King asked Bill if he would mind if she spoke to Peter alone from that point onward, thanking him profusely for bringing the matter of the ring’s existence to her attention-an act that would not go unnoticed when it came to end of term assessments.

Peter saw Bill was caught by surprise at his professor’s request, noticing also how quickly he agreed when she mentioned the end of term assessment carrot.

Peter sat alone then in the professor’s office-a distinguished turnout, Peter thought, as he looked around admiringly at the mahogany desk and wall shelves housing hundreds of books in varying states of condition.

When he heard the professor’s door to the office shut as Bill left he returned his gaze to her. She sat in her chair behind her desk, staring intently at him. He smiled politely. She did also. Then she leaned back in her leather chair, interlocking her fingers behind her head.

She breathed deeply and sighed as she shifted her gaze to the copies Bill had sketched and photographed of the characters on the silver ring that had been placed on her desk earlier when she and Bill had first talked of the matter. As yet, the professor had not seen, and had not asked to see the ring itself.

Peter couldn’t help noticing the fullness of the professor’s breasts as she stretched her shoulders backward with the interlocking of her fingers behind her head. When he looked at her face again he felt acutely embarrassed to find her looking directly into his eyes with a half-smile on her face.

He had been caught, obviously staring at her breasts. He knew it, and she obviously knew it too. Peter felt like a little boy who had been sent to the Principal’s office for being naughty, but Ruth King seemed to chose to ignore where she knew he had been staring so imaginatively only moments before. Then she leaned slowly forward, her gaze never leaving his for an instant.

Her chin rested on her doubled over hands as her elbows supported their weight on her desk top. Her lips were slightly parted as she drew a breath to speak. Peter waited, suddenly captivated by the fact that her whole action had seemed to be precise and deliberate, almost as if intending her action to be perceived in slow motion.

“Could you tell me again how you came by the ring, Mr French?” she asked when she had finished taking her long, shallow breath.

Her question annoyed Peter. He had never had much time for academics in the past, and her question was not endearing him to change his original attitude about them. He hadn’t told her anything in the first place.

“Professor, I...” he began, but she cut him off immediately.

“Please.” she said. “Call me Ruth. There are no students here with us now.”

Peter smiled politely and accepted her offer, suggesting she do the same.

“Why have you not asked to see the ring?” Peter asked her, deciding to satisfy his curiosity about that fact first, before she began to control the conversation and the situation as well.

“All in good time, Peter. All in good time.” she answered, fobbing off his question as if he were a troublesome student. “For the moment, I’m more interested in how it came into your possession. And what, if any, have been your experiences with it.”

Now what the hell did she know about that? Peter wondered. She must know something about the ring’s history, he concluded. But he wasn’t going to give up his secrets for nothing in exchange. Offence was always the best form of defence, he decided.

“Listen, Ruth.” he began seriously. “I didn’t come here for games, and I can leave just as quickly as I came in. All the same to me. I told you I found it. I found it-as simple as that. Now you tell me what you know, or out the door I’ll go, and that’ll be that. The choice is yours, but let’s not waste each other’s time. Okay with you?”

The professor had been caught off-guard by Peter’s directness, but recovered quickly, smiling a little while she quickly regrouped her mental defences. She took a deep breath and sighed, letting it out slowly.

“Okay.” he listened to her say finally, as she smiled a defeated smile that Peter did not believe for an instant. He felt strongly that something was amiss, but didn’t for the life of him know what it was.

All the while the ring on Peter’s finger remained hidden from the view of the professor’s sight as his right hand rested lightly on his thigh.

“At first,” she began, “I was puzzled by the characters and symbols Bill brought to my attention. He didn’t tell me they had come from a ring at first. They interested me greatly, simply because I had never seen anything like them, and I’ve been studying this area all my life.”

“After I had run a check of matching individual characters and symbols for singular identification through the world university computer data base, I had to know more about where they came from. I questioned Bill and he told me he was helping out a friend, and said that he’d sketched and photographed them from your ring.”

Peter sat in silence while she took a deep breath and continued quickly without giving him the chance to get a word in.

“The characters and symbols do have a history, at least as far as the data base goes, although it isn’t all that much. It’s what the data base doesn’t say that interests me greatly.”

“The data base told of a person who owned the ring in the early sixties. He was a professor as well, or to be more correct as far as his qualifications went, he was an accredited university scientist with a lifetime tenure at his university. The data base didn’t say where or how he had come by the ring, only what he had discovered about it, and that, as was reported, it was only discovered by accident.”

“He disappeared suddenly one summer and was never seen or heard from again. An investigation was held, but found nothing. When his things and his office were later searched and researched by the police and the university security they found many files and computer data disks of his works, and especially disks and files about the ring, and, the effect it had on certain people.”

“But, that was that. He had originally photographed and enlarged the characters and symbols and transferred them to computer, as well as all of his documentation on the experiments he had carried out, using the ring as a source of some kind of strange power.”

Peter watched as she finished her long spiel. He drew a deep breath, waiting and expecting her to continue, but she didn’t. Once again she leaned back in her chair and interlocked her fingers behind her head, and once again Peter’s attention was immediately drawn to her breasts, only this time, for some reason, he wasn’t bothered by the thought of her knowing he was looking at them.

When he’d satisfied his imagination’s imaginary inspection of the fullness and shape he looked up, only to notice immediately that this time, it was she who was blushing at his obviousness.

He said nothing by way of an apology, drawing breath of his own then to speak. But although his mouth opened, he said nothing for several long seconds. And then he did. His mind had been calculating, recalling everything she had told him so far.

“Does anyone else know we’re here talking, or that the ring has re-surfaced again?” he asked, watching her eyes very carefully.

“No.” she smiled. “Only you and I, and Bill of course.”

She was lying and Peter knew it. Without warning, nor knowing of his unconscious choice to even do it he flashed the silver ring quickly up from his lap and leaned forward, holding it a few inches away from the professor’s face. She jerked backward against the wall behind her chair, but her eyes never left the ring for an instant.

“No!” she cried out sharply as she turned her head away from the ring and covered her eyes with both her hands. But it was too late. She had glimpsed that which had held her intense interest and every moment’s thoughts for the past several days. Her hands slowly came away from her face, which then returned itself once more to the front.

Her eyes slowly opened, the inner struggle obvious to him as she finally lost the battle with her unconscious mind.

“Please! Don’t!” she begged, but Peter held the ring closer, only an inch from the tip of her nose.

He watched as her eyes crossed while trying to fight to look away, yet trying at the same time to focus intently on the blue jewel.

“You ... have ... no ... idea” she begged hesitatingly as he watched her continue to struggle internally with herself in a desperate attempt and effort to avert her gaze. But it was no use.

Although her cheeks presented themselves in turn to the ring face-on, her gaze never left the already changing scenery happening on the face of the blue jewel encrusted into the gleaming silver band. Peter watched as her facial tension began to drain away.

Her gaze seemed to glaze slightly, and she flushed upward from her open-neck, expensive designer shirt. Then her eyes took on a vacant look as she sighed and then relaxed back into her chair.

All in all it took about three minutes, Peter thought, as he became aware of his own racing pulse. He rose from his chair and walked around to her, sitting himself down on the top of her desk. He glanced down at the sketches, noting the striking similarity to those on his ring-an exact likeness. He’d just never seen them blown up pictorially before.

Then he leaned forward very close to the mesmerised professor, inhaling deeply the scent of her expensive musk, and feeling himself thicken at the same time with the onset of the familiar stirring in his loins.

“Who else knows about this?” he demanded of the now-subdued professor.

No response. She just sat there staring at the changing face of the jewel in the very centre of her vision.

“You will tell me now who else knows that the ring has re-surfaced.” he said, rephrasing his question to her.

“I will tell you now who else knows the ring has resurfaced.” she repeated immediately.

It was obvious to Peter that she was still fighting some kind of inner battle, and losing. Her forehead shined and glistened with tiny beads of sweat from her lost battles already. Peter smiled, waiting, his heart thumping against his rib cage.

“The data base clerk at university central knows the ring has resurfaced. He told a government man the ring has resurfaced. The government is coming here at eight-thirty tonight.”

Peter glanced quickly at his watch. Seven-thirty five. He looked quickly back at the entranced woman as her mouth opened to continue speaking.

“The Dean of this university knows the ring has resurfaced and is coming with the government man tonight at eight-thirty tonight.” she finished.

“You will tell me now, where are all the floppy discs on the ring’s history?” he told the stunned professor. “And you will not repeat any more statements back to me. You will just do as you are told without question and without delay. Now, tell me where they are.” he added.

“They are in my safe in the wall.” the professor said slowly.

“Get them now, and all other documentation and proof that the ring has resurfaced.” he told her. “In fact,” he added quickly. “You will get me all documentation and information that exists on the ring in its entirety.”

Peter moved sideways to allow her to move past him as she rose from her chair and walked to the central wall of her office. She moved a picture aside and opened a large wall safe, removing a package from within. She locked the safe and straightened the picture, then turned and walked back to stand before where he sat on the top of her desk.

“Give me the package.” he ordered her.

She handed him the package as she stared directly ahead, no longer looking at the ring, seemingly deeply in some kind of trance, but with her eyes wide open.

“Tell me if anybody else know my name?” he asked her.

“No.” she answered. “Only myself at this stage.”

“Tell me why the government man is interested in the ring.” he commanded her.

“Something to do with the disappearance of the owner on the disk-the professor.” she replied.

“Tell me what else you personally know about the ring that has any significance.” he ordered her. Her immediate answer nearly floored him.

“It can kill people.” she said without a hint of emotion or credulity.

“Tell me how it kills people.” Peter asked when he had recovered his thoughts from her last answer.

“I don’t know.” she said.

“Tell me what else you know.” he commanded her again.

“It has a strange and immediate power over women, but seemingly not over men.” she replied. Then added. “And it has to change the wearer somehow before it can have an affect on men.”

“Tell me what you mean by that.”

“I don’t know the meaning or the reason.” she answered. “That’s why I’m so interested in deciphering the characters. I believe the answer is told in their meaning.”

“Tell me how old the ring is.”

“Older then we can measure-at least as old as civilisation itself-this one anyway.” she told him.

Peter sat back and collected his thoughts, glancing quickly at his watch again. He didn’t have much time.

“You will remove every single piece of clothing you have on, and, you will do it now!” he ordered her.

The professor quickly removed all her clothing, dropping it into an untidy pile on the floor beside her ankles. Peter watched as the fullness of her breasts became truly known to him.

When released from their bindings of the bra they sagged downward from the weight of themselves. They were truly a size and a half.

Her figure was plump, Peter noticed, as he watched every move she made, as well as looking at his watch repeatedly. She had the bushiest thatch of lush, curly black pubic hair he had ever seen on a woman, not that he had seen that many in the flesh.

He felt himself stir like an African panther. Then, for no special reason, he followed a hunch. His loins hardened more and felt like concrete. He felt like drilling her just for being an academic that he didn’t particularly like, but right then he knew he didn’t have the time, or the inclination.

“Tell me the truth about your sexual preferences.” he told her.

“I am a lesbian dominatrix.” she answered, her arms hanging loosely by her sides.

He smiled to himself. He had been right. But time was running out. He had to move quickly to avoid detection. They might be early. He just couldn’t take the chance on playing around with the lesbian professor any longer.

“You will close the door after I leave. Then you will lie back down spread-eagled on the floor here, facing the door. You will masturbate yourself with much feeling and intensity before and after I leave, but you will not be able to achieve your climax until the door opens once again, and you see another man or men walk through and look down at you. Do you understand?” he ordered her.

“Yes.” she answered.

“You will also forget and remove for all time from your conscious and unconscious memory, all knowledge about the ring, its history and its existence. You will not have ever heard of it, and know nothing of it, even if placed under a lie-detector test, because you now believe with your heart and soul that you have forgotten everything you have ever known or discovered about it. Is that clear?” he finished.

“Yes.” she said simply.

“I’m leaving now. Tell me the back way out of the university and to the car park. Then, lie down and begin to quickly and passionately frig yourself without climaxing until a man or several men enter your office. Then you will orgasm with a vengeance and a violent fury you have never experienced before.” he ordered her.

She told him the back way out.. Then Peter watched as the naked lesbian professor lay on her back on the floor, facing her office door, and spread her legs wide. Her hands rapidly began sliding between her thighs.

One hand began to penetrate deeply in and out of her black, bushy centre while the other began rapidly circling impatiently around the top of her crease where her own jewel of personal pleasure lay so well-hidden beneath its dense, fur-covered and bushy jungle of protection.

Another quick glance at his watch told him it was time to quickly leave and he did so, quietly closing the door behind him. Peter smiled to himself as he ran quickly, but quietly along the series of corridors and hallways she had told him about, in order to get out to the car park unnoticed.

He wished he could have been here to see the look on the faces of the man or men when they opened the door and saw her lying there, spread-eagled and stark naked, frigging herself like a crazy-woman possessed, and to then, while captivated by the overall scene of her, have her explode her unleashed passion in their faces literally as she completed her sexual release into the still, humid air of the night-time university corridors of advanced education.

Peter smiled as he ran. And all that would happen within seconds of them opening her office door.

As he wove unnoticed out into the evening traffic he thought of Bill. Peter figured now that he was the only one, apart from Bill, who knew of the ring’s existence. But supposedly the ring did not have any power over men unless the wearer changed somehow.

He shook his head from side to side as he drove, glancing often at the package on the passenger seat of his car that the professor had retrieved from her safe, and, when clear of the mainstream traffic, floored the accelerator of his car, hurrying to get home to discover its contents.

He had to find out if there was a way to erase Bill’s memory of the ring, as he believed he had done with Bill’s lesbian professor. Again he smiled at the thought of what the men had waiting for them when they opened the professor’s office door. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard of his car. Eight-thirty.

He grinned widely, picturing it in detail as he sped onward toward his home and the opening of the package that kept demanding his attention. He could almost hear the lesbian professor’s rapturous screams.

Peter waited until his family had all gone to sleep, which had involved another super-human sexual performance on his part that had taken his wife’s rapture and ecstasy to the point of her almost fainting from exhaustion and sheer, exquisite and raw, sensual pleasure,

After he withdrew from between her wet, relaxed thighs Peter crept out of bed leaving her naked, limp and lifeless in a dreamless sleep as if dead.

She lay as if thrown there like a broken rag doll. He quickly made his way down to the lounge room and to where he had hidden the package behind some books in the bookshelf after he had arrived home earlier in the evening.

He opened the bound package of floppy discs and documents, reading first the documents. When he had finished them he walked to his computer and switched it on, inserting the first of four small, black floppy discs inside.

It was more than and hour and a half later by the time he had finished.

He sat in his chair as if he’d been stunned. He had found the answer to his question posed earlier to the professor in her office. To achieve what he wanted in relation to the control over men, he would have to give up who he was, for all time.

The documents said little about ring itself, more along the lines of the professor and his habits and qualifications. But the discs documented the professor’s own notes and experiments, some ending in the death of the people he was experimenting with.

Somewhere along the way the professor had documented he was changing in his basic essence, but the notes did not elaborate in great detail. They described changing loyalties and increasing effectiveness in the power of the ring.

More toward the end of the last disc did the professor’s notes detail the extent of the change he believed himself to have been going through, and at the time, was still happening.

The notes on the disk told that of the professor’s original personality there apparently had been none visible, and, only with the control of mind-enhancing drugs was he able to keep up the diary notes regarding the person he once was.

He also stated that he had no regrets of the change in him, citing the rewards were all worth whatever he would have believed he’d lost, had he been thinking in the manner he once had. Then the notes had ended suddenly.

Everything else on the disc had belonged to another person’s own opinions. The writer went on to document the investigation into the professor’s sudden disappearance and the views of the police at the time. The matter was apparently then closed and the investigation shut down. All the notes ended at that.

Peter sat for a long time, until after midnight, wondering how the whole process started in the giving up of one’s self. He knew he had to silence Bill, less the government people find out his identity. He did not want to give up possession of the ring before he knew exactly what he could do with it.

He didn’t ask for it to come into his life, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to give it up easily, or without at least a fight. He raised his right hand and began to closely study the face of the blue jewel, while at the same time rubbing the fingers of his left hand absent-mindedly over the characters around the bend.

Suddenly, as he continued to look at the dull face of the blue jewel it began to deepen. Lighter blue clouds began to drift across the face from left to right as the background colour of the jewel continued to deepen in its basic essence. The more Peter stared deeply into the blue jewel the more he lost the awareness of what he was actually doing.

He was aware only that he was falling under its spell, but he had no desire to look away, or otherwise try to stop what was happening to him right at that point in time. He felt strange, as if he was falling into the very centre of the ring, even though he was well aware of the chair beneath his buttocks and thighs, and the room about him.

His mind felt like it was floating inside the jewel itself. And his body seemed to be floating just above the chair, no longer feeling the firmness of the material support beneath him.

Then suddenly, without warning, he sensed himself falling very quickly, inside the blue jewel itself. Down, and down and down he fell, tumbling head over heels. He was disoriented and felt nauseous. Everything was turning and spinning. Everything was black.

Yet throughout the experience, frightening though it was to him in every sense imaginable, something felt very right about it, as if it was what he had been expecting.

Then, just as suddenly, the falling and spinning sensation stopped. He became aware of himself standing, yet he could not feel the ground. He quickly glanced left and right. Everything was blue-coloured dark, tinged all around, with a dim light, yet,look for it as he did, he could not identify the source of that light.

Then his attention was drawn instantly and suddenly to a figure standing less than ten feet from him and to the front. Peter wondered how he could not have seen the figure before when he was searching for the source of the light.

He was scared out of his wits, yet a part of him seemed to remain in complete control, as the figure moved slightly. He couldn’t make out a face, but from the shape and height of the person, he was certain it was a man.

“Your choice is this moment in your time.” a voice suddenly boomed inside his head, neither male nor female in sound. It echoed throughout his brain, yet he did not shift from the spot on which he stood.

“Choose this moment in your time and all that it entails, in faith without doubt and belief without question. Choose, or, do not. State your answer now.”

“Choose life, or, choose mediocrity.”

Peter suddenly became aware, in the very essence of his being, that he now faced the most awesome and frightening decision of his life. Yet, somehow, and, for some reason, he already felt and knew in the heart of his mental turmoil and terror, that his decision had already been made, and, by him and he knew that, fully.

He had chosen ... life.

“So shall it be as you have chosen,” the voice boomed in his temples, “and so shall you live as you have chosen, with the power over all mankind, to help or to hurt. That choice will always be yours”