The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The rain poured from the night clouds, washing away the tread seconds in the taxi’s wake. From the back seat, Gayle watched the city lights blur through the prisms of water. She sat back, though her mind was on the front edge as she anticipated the second visit. There wasn’t a whole lot that she remembered about her first visit, other than it had been wonderful, romantic even, certainly sexual, and that she was compelled to return. Her hand touched her neck, the blood red fingernails moving in circles, looking for the light scar which had nearly disappeared.

“Twenty-three-thirty, Miss,” the driver said, pulling her out of her trance.

“Oh! Oh yes, sure,” she answered, finding the money in her purse, and handing it up.

“You bring an umbrella?” Said the cabby; his way of politely telling her she’d have to move on in spite of the downpour.

“Thanks,” she kind of answered, her eyes and senses finely tuned on the door just beyond the curb. It seemed that her senses were so much sharper these past few days, and her eyes seemed to feel a rectangle of warmth crawling out from around the distant door. Gayle stepped out into the wall of liquid, and without a hat or coat or umbrella, casually walked up through the gate and to the door where she knocked.

On the third pounding from her hand the door jarred a crack, and then slowly, as if guided by an invisible hand, opened fully. There was no door man, but the way it had opened definitely seemed an invitation; Gayle walked into the dry entrance, her clothing already soaked to the bone. The form and details of her bra and panties seemed more clearly defined than the shirt and skirt that under drier conditions might have hid them entirely. Finally she looked down at herself, immediately embarrassed that she’d not brought an umbrella because she didn’t know what to do about the way she was. Not only did she seem exposed, but as she went forward, she dripped all over the living room’s floor. It seemed unclear why she’d been so distracted that she’d let herself get this wet, particularly after the hour and a half she’d spent getting ready. She looked for a mirror in order to torment herself at the sight her hair, but there didn’t seem to be one in the living room. Her eyes wandered from left to right, and then back from right to left. Soundlessly, my body stood in the middle of an archway right where she’d glanced a second earlier and found nothing.

“Oh!”

“I’m sorry. Did I startle you?” I said.

“Oh God. It’s just that I didn’t see you before. I ... I let myself in when the door fell open,” she explained.

“Of course. The rain is torrential. Please, come this way, and you can get dry,” I offered, taking her hand from where it hang limply to her side, and leading her down the hallway. “My, you are trembling. Nothing to worry ... about me. And, here we are; in there. I’ll get you something to drink while you’re fixing things. You can hang things over the shower rod if you like. There’s a robe behind the door.” I kissed her hand, and she backed into the bathroom, looking at me constantly. I had to reach in and gently close the door.

I waited for almost an hour, reading a vacation guide to sunny Florida that I’d nearly worn in half. I’d been there once, it seemed several lifetimes ago. The guide was full of bright color, not to mention large numbers of tourists. Things would be different there now, I understood, shuffling the pages back together as best I could, and putting the book back into the plastic cover I’d been forced to purchase in order to preserve it.

“Ah, there you are. Very lovely,” I said, standing up as Gayle walked into the room. The robe was real silk, something I’d bought in Japan several decades before the war, back when buying things in Japan had been truly risky. Admiral Cook had changed some of that by then though, a fact which meant I now had the rare pleasure of seeing this woman walking towards me in silk as fine and personally weaved as she.

“I’m sorry, but my things will have to dry. I don’t know why, but when ...”

“Don’t you worry about those things. They are not important now that we are here together. The important thing is that for tonight you are with me. Here, please, have a seat.”

“You have a lovely couch,” said Gayle sitting a cushion to my side.

“Do you like my shirt. I think the pearl buttons are so interesting. Pearl is so translucent. You always have the feeling that something more than appears on the surface is just under the surface, don’t you,” I said, pinching at the button Gayle seemed most attracted to.

“Yes, I do think so.”

“Have you found memories of couches of your own, My adorable lady?”

“I’m not sure,” said Gayle, her eyes growing a little introspective.

“When I was a child I used to hide behind my couch. I’d crawl behind it, and being small, I felt as if I were disappearing. Imagine yourself there, a young child behind the couch, things going on just to the other side of the fabric. You are delighted that not a soul knows you are there, aren’t you?” My voice was steady and warm.

“Yes. That would be nostalgic,” Gayle replied agreeably, her eyes wandering to the button on my vest.

“Yes that will be. Years from now you will want to remember the wonderful time you are spending behind the couch. From there you will learn so much about life. Here, let me help you find a comfortable position behind there. Take my hand, sweetheart,” I said, holding her hand, and bringing her closer. I put her hand to my chest so that her fingers touched the button that she found so fascinating. I drew her close, kissing her lips warmly. She sighed deeply, and leaned toward me until we were pressed together.

I still had on my clothing, shirt, pants, dark shoes and a tie, though my top button had long been loose. Her robe parted, a breast swaying nicely out, the nipple peaking at the world like a curious wanderer. I felt it; it responded to my touch by hardening under the palm of my hand. Just above the nipple, two blue puncture marks had nearly disappeared. Our kisses deepened.

“Now it is time to return under your couch. Here, down on your knees. Don’t worry; today I will be there with you. We can play your game together. That will be so much fun, don’t you imagine?”

“Oh yes. Let’s go there together,” Gayle said, her face now well into rem reflex. I led her by the hand onto the floor just between my knees.

Leaning over, I kissed her hair, causing her to look up. My lips found hers as she strained upwards. Then I leaned back. Her eyes closed. Through the V at her chest I could see her lovely cleavage as it darkened the cavernous domain, ending at a darker still hint of hair between her legs. I was glad I’d picked the silk robe, ancient beauty all the more beautiful surrounding the modern woman before me.

My hands touched her hair. The fingers wandered, stroking and then petting as her head slowly gets more restful against my left inner thigh. “You are behind your couch. Out in the room things are very busy. Somebody has asked, “Where is Gayle?” “She’s in her room reading, I think,” Another person says. “Oh.” comes a reply. They don’t know you are here. They, of course, miss you, since you are the charmed one in the family, but they think you are in your room and nobody goes to investigate, their days now on separate courses from yours. So, now you are free behind your couch. You can hear all of the conversations, occasionally hearing a comment or two about yourself, them giving away tidbits of secrets. You love this. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“The only thing you really need to do in order to fulfill your grandest desires is to remain still. But, as time goes on you tire. You need to rest your head. There! There just in front of you, you can see your teddy bear. You grab it, and put it into your hands. It’s so warm,” I told her. Her hands moved around my thighs and one circled my waist, ending at my butt. “You want to feel it on your cheek, so warm and soft. It will keep you company, and maybe later you can rest your head there. Go ahead, rest your cheek there, honey,” I said. Gayle lowered her cheek so that it rested on the fabric under which my penis had grown. I held her there, her head moving from side to side as if to pet the bulge.

“You are much older now, but you have still gone behind your couch. It’s wonderful because you are there with your first love. Remember the infatuation, the curiosity. Remember the way you wondered if you’d go all the way, and how much you wanted to see him, even to hold him in your hand. Then the time did come. He was so hard behind that zipper. You touched at his waist, and then you unbuckled the pants, snipping the zipper down as you kissed so much your mouth hurt. Go ahead. You can loosen the belt. It’s going to be so brand new when you unzip the pants. That’s so incredibly innocent for you, like a dream that’s become real. It’s not the evil thing you’d heard. No, it was love and deep, pent up desire. Love is never an evil thing. You want the penis out. You want to see it, to touch it, to feel it, to maybe even taste it. It looks so strange to you, feels so silky. Yes, there it is. Now you have it. You are so beautiful, and he loves you so much for touching him.”

Her hand had my cock cradled in it as she watched it from inches away. There was this amazing look of curiosity and awe in her eyes. Gayle’s mouth was partially open, her lips moist as she waited and enjoyed the anticipation.

“Do you want to taste it?”

“Oh god, yes,” said the entranced woman between my legs.

“We are behind the couch. Nobody can find us here. Go ahead. Taste it just a little. Just a few licks around the sides,” I said, my own pulse picking up fast.

When her tongue touched me I fall back against the arm of the couch. There was no room, no Florida vacation, no memory of a long missed sun. Everything in the universe was between her tongue and the flash it touched. It is kind of strange, but the way her tongue moved was for me not really sexual as much as it was an understanding between souls. The word sensual comes to mind, though even that is not innocent nor kind enough. She was touching me, and I her; we engaging in quiet exploration in one simple, respectful way. Sometimes words like fuck and ram and orgasm apply, each a metaphor for screaming abandon—that too a level of understanding. But ... this was sweet, gentle, and kind. She touched me, far deeper inside then any abandoned fulfillment, while I loved her simple touch, never imagining a need for more than this, though completely sure that it would not stop with this loveliness.

“I love this so much,” she whispered to my penis, though the words were too genuine to be meant for such an unworthy piece of meat. “I love you so much,” she said, her eyes focusing upon mine, beyond the phallus that her tongue once more caressed.

“I can’t stand this. It’s beyond my worth,” I whispered back, putting my hands to each side of her head, and raising it away from my penis. Our eyes met, as she drifted in and saw only the beauty of a spirit that I knew far better. For just a minute I felt as if I were resurrected.

“You are behind the couch. I want you to relax and feel the warmth and joy of your secret place now. I want you to go deeper and deeper into the magical feeling of youth and abandon. It is summer. You have no school, no job, no troubles. People have wandered off to bed. You have found a pillow. Everything is wonderful and light. Dreaming behind the couch. Your mind has never felt so at peace. Let your mind relax. There you go. Let your eyes relax. Your thought are warm and relaxed. Your mind is no longer troubling your body. I want your body to come with me now. I have to have you. You have to have me. We simply are no good apart.”

“Yes. Oh yes,” said Gayle, as we both rose and walked into the bedroom. She laid down. I pulled my shirt apart, riddling the floor with buttons. My tie was tossed one direction, and my pants another. I kicked off my shoes, and forgot my socks. She gasped when I took my last step towards the bed, and sank to my knees between her knees. Grabbing at her robe, I pulled it up as she leaned forward. She let it happen, only to find me stop when her hands were up above her, and twisting the robe, trapping her arms above her in the clothing. I leaned on the robe, and held her, while my other hand touched her skin. I felt her chest rising, and then let my hand crawl down her flesh until it had felt her lovely thigh all the way down to the knee. She was so alive! God, I loved that.

I could smell her breath, imagining the blood rushing through her veins. When her heart beat, the arteries pulsed just under the skin, my eyes darting from one to the next, ever aware of the red rivers of life just under her tender skin. I wanted her touch. I wanted her breath. I wanted what was one inch from the round and hard tip of my cock. The blood though, oh god how it tempted me as I lowered and grabbed her lip with mine.

We kissed, and I tasted her unique taste. My tongue met hers, and we teased incredibly. Then she bit my tongue and backed away, taking it with her. I dove, and plunged my tongue inside of her, my cock one second behind, finding her vagina, and slowly parting her lips. She sucked at me, pushed me away, and then took my tongue again, eager to replay all of the beginnings. I had no will. She’d taken me too far. I tightened my lower body, and pushed it forward with one steady stroke, driving my cock inside of her body until I groaned, and she screamed joy.

Words cannot express the pleasure of moving back. My dick waited, one inch still inside of this woman, and then fell back into her as far as it could reach. I pulled back again, this time letting it come out. Her hands protested, grabbing my ass. Her strength increased, realizing my evil thrill at denying her penetration. “Oh God! Fuck me!” she screamed.

I put my cock back inside, and started fucking this incredible woman with steady abandon. It was as good a feeling as I could imagine, other than perhaps the idea of doing this very same thing in the light of day on some sun warmed stretch of sand. I was gone. It was like something had taken me; as if I’d been hypnotized. I found myself inside of her, my cum splashing up inside of her body.

Suddenly I realized that my teeth were deep in her neck. I’d gone blank for just half a minute, but in my lust and trance I’d found a vein, and was sucking the blood out of her at an incredible pace. I pulled back, and saw the blood squirt out at me with her pulse. What had I done! I can’t kill this woman! I was beside myself in panic. Looking down at her eyes, I saw a woman near death. Her face was pale, and her eyes dull. The lips I’d so loved, were blue. I screamed my lungs dry, and fell on her, capturing her as my arms were lunged behind her back.

Desperation! That’s what it was. I was in agony. Her pulse was so weak, and then it stopped. I put my hand to her neck, applying pressure. My mouth covered hers, and I breathed, giving her air. The heart started again, still so weak, and futile. I was mad with anger, and then sorrow, and then fear, as my face changed from one emotion to the next in fleeting shifts that only we immortals can engage with such rapidity.

She needed blood. My hand at her neck, stopping the flow, could sense the contracting veins, a skill retained from so many feedings. I had only one hope. I bit my own lip, sinking my still elongated teeth into the flesh. My own blood now flowed, as I captured the injured lip with my top one. I leaned over my lover, and kissed her mouth, forcing the weak, unresponsive lips on her face to open. My blood flowed, soon trickling down her throat. My tears flowed, wetting her hair at her temple. With super human speed, my own wound healed, and the blood stopped feeding her barely swallowing throat. Then her heart stopped, and she died.

I breathed into her, but nothing changed. Her body grew chill. I leaned on her chest, and did heart massage, interleaving breaths of air, but nothing happened. She grew colder, and I could see the distance between life and death widen in her half opened eyes. What I’d done terrified me, my terror casting me out of the bed, and onto the floor. I knelt there, just below a dead foot that overhang the bed, and wept until the early morning sky started to lighten.

My problem was my complete lack of control, I told myself. I knew that the more I put off feeding on a lover, the more inclined I got to blacking out and feeding anyway. Why had I chanced upon so wide a vein, I lamented? There was no salvation for an illness so nocturnal. I found myself wanting to go over to the other side of the bed and stand in the window and take the sun that was minutes away. Of course, we vampires also have no will to kill ourselves either, as big a curse as the rest of it, I was thinking, when I got up and looked down upon the body of the only woman I’d really ever truly loved, her hands still wrapped up in the ancient silk gown that I’d once found so becoming on her. Now, seeing her hands like that, the whole thing seemed so illicit and vicious; as if nothing like passion had existed at all; just a brutal beast of a man raping another whore; only she was not a whore. No, I was the whore, and a whore unto my own soul, I cried. The way she was though, that was just wrong, my mind screamed!

I took the wrap, and freed her arms, tossing the loathsome rag into the trash. Then I lifted her, and took her to my body. Her head and arms fell back limply, the elbows and knees now rigid as rigamortis set in. We went together down the stairs, and into the coffin. Just enough room existed for me to lay beside her, and hold her one last ... day. I felt my eyes grow heavy, drained of tears, and responding to the rising sun that was cursedly out of reach of my carcus. We met one another on the plane of dreams.

I dreamed of my lover. I dreamed of her body next to mine. We kissed and felt one another close, sex no longer the object, closeness being more than enough. I wanted to die and be inside of her forever. I gave her my neck. She suckled at it, growing warm. I felt so redeemed, as if God no longer cursed my soul. It had been since my own transformation since I’d felt anything so rich as this. The sun was dying outside, but I was almost mortal in my coffin. Then the sun was gone. Still at the edge of sleep, I willed the coffin lid to rise. I looked up at the floor joists that served as a ceiling for my crypt. The pain of my lost lover returned, haunting me, tearing at my core. I leaned up, not imagining what I would possibly be able to do this night, in such a weak and foul mood after such a horrible loss.

Strange, I thought. I seemed more than weak from the sadness. It was almost as if I’d not fed in a week. I tried to get out of the coffin, and fell instead, my legs hardly able to hold me. I pulled myself up by the handles of my coffin. I guessed that I’d contracted some illness like the common flu. Of course, the flu is one thing, but my actions the night before were so much less forgiving. My eyes were closed, unwilling to look at what I’d murdered while in my animal-like transformation.

“I love you so much,” My ears thought they heard.

“I can’t stand it!” I roared, feeling as if my mind was being ripped from my head.

A hand touched my face. “It’s OK. I love you still,” the voice returned.

My eyes flew open. She was alive! I shook my head, then banged it on the wood to make sure I was no longer dreaming. This was too good to be true, yet it was. In spite of my elation though, I felt this tugging again, now as if it were coming from her, as if some string had been tied about my brain. Still, it was joy I felt, knowing I was awake, and she was sitting up, very much alive! She’d took to the blood from my lip and transformed. I was so shocked and elated. “You’re alive! I can’t believe it!”

“Yes, my love. I am. Thank you for your blood while we slept. I know what you have given me. I will always cherish your gift,” said Gayle. Her words were like the finest wine; they rang in my ears, as well as inside of me, almost telepathic.

“You drank from me? Again? After the transformation?” My voice asked, but my mind was on another thing; on the power of the new tugging at my brain, the same thing I’d felt when I’d first been bitten in the old world. They’d dragged the monster who’d bitten me off, and he was quickly dispatched by guillotine, the custom in my country of origin, so I’d only felt the tugging for a short time, many years into nearly forgotten memory, but here it was again, as real and powerful as then.

“Yes. Now I have your blood.” She paused, her nose smelling the air, as if catching the scent of an old curse.

“Now I have your soul,” she said into space, her eyes alight, and looking into the secret evil domain that most of us have learned to ignore or go insane with lust embracing.

“I will be benevolent toward you if things go well,” she added, the demon growing in her.

“I thought of you as stronger than this. Now what has become of you? Where have you gone?” She mused.

But, then she returned to the room, her eyes wandering back toward me, remembering what we’d shared more foundly. Flatly she said, “It helps that I love you—for now. As long as you obey me,” Instinctively I knew, as did she now know, what it meant for one vampire to have fed off of another.

“Yes, of course ... my precious Goddess. I love you too. I am so sorry for what I did to you. It was a horrible accident, for which I owe you my devotion. Please, I am at your mercy,” I replied, my mind no longer entirely my own. I, a man used to dominion, was reduced to begging, though it was the love for the woman hidden behind this vampirish mask that held me as much as the domination of my soul.

She dismissed my brain, letting go enough that I now had only my own dwindled strength. My legs were no longer strong enough to hold me. I fell to the floor, so drained that I knew I’d be unable to feed myself next time without this new head vampire’s help. She recaptured my mind, snapping my eyes up to the edge of the casket. Her legs came over the edge, and her toes found purchase upon my chest. As her footstool, I could not breath. She loomed above me, her naked belly stretched, full of my blood. She then walked off of me. I gasped for breath. The new vampire sauntered away through the basement gloom, up the stairs, and into the bathroom to freshen up before moving off to enjoy her first heady night of immortal power.