The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The basement floor became home for a while. I would look down upon my body, and come to new terms with the old understanding that I was the undead. Gayle came home, just before dawn, most nights, often directly to the coffin, using my near motionless body as a footstool, and my coffin as her bed. I churned in pain when the sun came up, longing for the motherland dirt in the coffin for relief. Though the cold ground in the basement was shielded from the sun, I seemed unable to gain more than a few minutes of untroubled sleep outside the coffin. Then, at dusk, she would reappear, her legs stretching out of the above, looming down so large, and then walking across my body as she moved into another night. At first she’d addressed me, often with loathing, but as the years passed, the glimpses and words no longer came; she completely absorbed in the life above, and me steadily shrinking until less a footstool than a rug.

I was turning to bones, and a thin shield of skin, as if someone had wrapped a skeleton in pink plastic wrap. I no longer stirred, and often fell into slumbers full of still, cold, nightmarish underworlds that lasted months. Waking from one, I found a leg held by a two inch long, quarter inch thick tendon, a hand crushed and a mouse feeding off a missing finger. Still I lived, in the sense of the undead, and what I had known as life for decades on end. She was gone, though I felt her pull, as if a compass always told me of her direction and distance. I smelled the room, not finding her odor, and instantly realizing that Gayle had not slept here in quite some days. The pull in my head brightened, not by decreased distance, I understood, but by some feeling of dread. My eyes engaged instead of opened, the lids long since gone, and a sensation swept over me that I had to act or I would soon be with the Master of hell, and not found in favor even by He.

There was no plan until I felt the nibble of the mouse. My eyes flashed in his direction, though my skull dared not move least it shake from its mooring and finish me.

There, clear across the room at the opposing wall, the mouse fed upon the three bones of that finger and upon the thin strands of flesh and muscle, that only a mouse could have noticed. What I lacked in flesh, I still held in mind. And, the fact that I had felt him reminded me much about my immortality. I willed my finger to move, it instantly jumping like a trap, curling about the mouse’s neck, as if a vise. The mouse jumped, but was no match for the quickness of even a near dead vampire. It ran, the noose of three bones tight about its neck, and disappeared into a crack in the concrete wall.

Through my finger I could feel his tiny, rapid pulse slowing. When it had, I waited, wanting to be sure. After all, waiting I’d learned to do so very well. As I waited, I gathered my strength, sending it to the feeling along the bones of my dissociated finger. I let it fly, driving the sharp nail and bone deep into the skull of the mouse. The nail flew off like the discarded skin of a snake, yet the bone drove onward. Once impaled, I blindly moved, as if I had become the finger itself, until I’d found the crack’s opening. The finger drug the mouse towards me, one chilling step at a time, the bone that had been nearest the knuckle digging at the floor, while the nail end remained bored into the mouse as if everything depended upon the purchase. Half way to me, I started to tire. I found sleep once again, and the horror of knowing it might be weeks before I could regain my consciousness. I fought then, as I’d never fought before, finding myself suddenly awake, and instantly opening my eyes to see if the mouse was still there, and not by now drug off by some other beast, or turned to dust.

I was elated to know it was, and that only hours had passed, it still no worse than a little bloated with the gas of recent decay. I gave myself back to the finger, and it came to life, dragging the mouse onward. At my mouth finally, the finger drove onward, crawling up between my open, lipless jaws until both the mouse and the finger climbed inside. I felt myself slipping, though the smell of blood was working my senses. I had to do it now, or never, I thought, knowing that any sleep I found would last months or an eternity if I let it come. I bit, my teeth still sharp. They barely grazed the mouse, so I opened my mouth again, and with another jerk of the jaw, sunk one tooth in, barely an eighth of an inch below the fur and skin.

There was blood on my tooth. I had no means with which to swallow, yet the tooth seemed to absorb a few molecules of blood. I raised my jaw now, using the fuel from those molecules, and sank the teeth again. The mouse started to leak fluids like a punctured balloon. I bit again, each time harder, more determined. Soon I had a tongue, that growing as if cloned and on some atomic clock. I licked the fluids, my esophagus building cartilage. I swallowed, though I had no stomach. As the mouse fell, the stomach raced its creation in order to meet the mouse’s ingestion. I felt acids sucking the juices from the mouse, and seconds later my newly reformed stomach clinched, forcing me to throw up the bones and fur. I struggled not to overdo my revulsions, lest I regurgitate the fluids as well. I slept then, peace filling me, as if I’d overcome the initial shocks of birth.

My mind screamed me awake. I felt my body moving on the floor. My head snapped—the pedestal and head still mostly bone—towards the East. I could feel my love. I felt her out there, desparate; desperate for me. It had been so long since she’d wanted me. I had lain there, letting myself become bones, just as much out of the despair of her rejection as out of the weakness of what she’d stolen from me when she’d sucked the blood from me, a fellow vampire. Now, I had both flesh and her desire. I crawled, the sensation of movement instantly intoxicating. She was calling to me. To me! Not to some thirst, or some heady new power that had change her from the person she’d been inside, a person whom she’d forgotten, but to me! I knew that she possessed me, and that most of my will was not my own, yet I also knew how much I wanted her to want me. I, most of all, felt waves like perpetual orgasms, inspired by the knowledge of how desperately she needed me, regardless of why! I dragged the bottom half of my still nearly shapeless carcass up the stairwell, and banged the door open with my head.

The back room was different, and the living room completely refurbished. Strange appliances were everywhere. All of the pictures on the wall were now photographs—none paintings. I saw her in one, and then the other. Oh god, I was bathed in her beauty as the pictures looked down. Finding myself up on the sticks that were my legs, I wasted energy spinning from one image of her to the next, forcing my naked, decayed self out the front door so that I could stop. I was soon on the wet, dark city street. The city had changed. The cars that passed me by, often driven by wildly pointing passengers who hurriedly drove onward, seemed so sleek and full of color. I fell into the bushes of City Park, the landscaping completely unfamiliar, and blended in with the briars of a pond-side field. She needed me so badly, my head swinging wildly from the sights in order to gain my bearing, towards the East where she pulled me to hurry. Still, I endured the struggle, knowing from a long life as an undead, that one must play by the rules of survival. I had no strength, and as of yet, I had no idea how far into the night we’d passed. These things needed my immediate attention.

A police cruiser drove along the edge of the park, its big spotlight stabbing the bushes around me where I lay, blending in with the roots. An officer got out, leaving the spotlight shining down the path, and adding a flashlight to the cross of photons. At first I couldn’t believe my eyes, used to the big Irish policemen of years before. This was a woman, disguised I first imagined, in the clothing of a police officer. She moved down the path with courage and purpose though, I noticed, as if she’d been trained. I moved myself as close to the path as I could without risking detection. She looked down almost as an afterthought, when she neared, gasping to the sight of me.

I was but a pile of bones, though my half reconstructed digestive track only aided in stunning the woman above into thinking me a corpse. She pulled out a silvery handgun, and started pointing her weapon off into the brush, as if seeking out some killer. There was an odd looking, black communications device in her hand, which she used to ramble on about a body. When she looked well enough away, I sprang from the ground, enveloping her back and wrapping my bones around her body. My head was upon her neck, the partially fleshed out jaws at her throat. I held on like a leach, instantly impaling two teeth, and sucking the blood from her body. She fought me, reaching behind her, and then throwing herself against a tree so violently that I lost a leg in the underbrush. I opened my jaws, the first blood in many years growing layers of flesh in millisecond waves.

Then my eyes and senses were sharp enough to see the pulsing jugular. I bit with amazing strength, nearly through, but that did it, sending pulse after pulse of jetting blood down my throat. As I grew, my weight doubled in one small second, toppling my weakening prey down into the brambles. I felt the barrel of her gun touch my temple, forcing me to disengage from her neck, and duck away a quarter second before the weapon boomed, a bullet creasing a flesh wound across my forehead. With a brand new hand of muscle and still unfinished skin, I grabbed the hot barrel, and tossed the weapon across the park. Then I turned her over, and sat upon her, my body vibrating with growing things, veins, muscles, organs, ivory, fat and pink, translucent skin. I towered over her, her eyes unbelieving. When mostly whole, I grabbed her head in both hands, and turned it to the side. She watched in shock, the eyes twisted. I thought it might be better for her if she’d closed them, though in that moment I craved live prey, a habit I’d been able to repress prior to my recent misfortune. Thinking this small, but at the time insignificant, compassion, I lowered my face to the emptying jugular and finished my meal until the vein no longer responded to my sucking. Leaving my body and the bones that had once been my leg in the cover, I hobbled off, throwing myself through the seam between two townhouses just as the distant sirens closed upon the park.

I forced myself into my own house, washed my body in a minute, and dressed in the only sweatshirt and pants that didn’t fall apart on me the minute I touched them. I put a spare shoe and sock into a back pocked. Smelling of must, I hobbled out the same front door I’d staggered out of as a body of bones just a few minutes earlier. Police cars and ambulances rang the park just steps from the sidewalk from which I waved down a taxi.

All of this had stemmed from a sense of urgency that pulled at me as if I’d been magnetized. The cabby had asked me for an address, but I only had a direction. He looked back at me suspiciously. The fact that my clothing smelled of moth, and my body of newborn baby, only added to the quizzical glance.

“You maybe should wait for another cab. I have a call that I promised,” he tried, looking back around, and then into his mirror. His eyes widened, and then he looked back again, seeing me this time because I was no longer a reflection;

“I need to go. Now!” I commanded, though my control over him had not yet been established.

“You have any money, Mister?” He asked directly this time, letting it all out in the open.

“Sure,” I lied, realizing that it had seemed a trivial thing moments before, and that my own house had been so unfamiliarly redone that it would have taken me more time than I sensed I had to browse for currency.

He turned about, and thought better of an argument, driving on. I did my best to cower into the corner behind him, his eyes probing the mirror in vain. The pains of growth overcame me, my brow sweating as the knee swelled, and filled with water. My leg elongated below that, soon branching out into dozens of foot bones and tedious structure. There was a smell to it too, that is hard to describe. It was the sound of mucus growing over mucus that blew my cover though. The man looked around, and gasped at my leg where I’d propped it up on the seat for relief.

He hit the break, tossing me up against the seat back, and then opened his door, getting out. He had a revolver in his hand, not nearly as nice looking as the police officer’s had been, but easier to pack, I understood. “What are you? What’s the matter with you? Get out of my cab!” The man screamed.

I wasn’t in the mood for this, but I also had no desire to draw more attention than I’d already drawn. One thing a vampire learns early enough in life is the wisdom to just walk away—I mean after the heady stuff; after the things my Gayle was finally passing through. What was this cabby going to do anyway? Go to his boss and say, “I lost a fare because he was a vampire! I saw him growing a leg right in my back seat, and he didn’t have a reflection in my mirror!” OK, I thought; I could risk that. People are reasonable. There are no such things as the living dead.

“I’m getting out. Just take it easy. I never gave you any trouble,” I said, scooting myself out of the cab and standing on the fleshing leg for the first time since I’d lost those bones in the struggle in the park. He waved his gun, moving me away, and got back into his cab, laying rubber. When he’d gone I put on my sock and shoe, feeling good. She was near, I sensed. The city was mostly behind me. I started to run farther out into the suburbs, led by my instincts until I came to a stop on road set off from a main highway. There, a small, white church with a two foot square steeple and a wooden modest wooden cross held the source of what pulled me. I went to the front door, and pulled it open, stepping into the quaint main room.

At the altar a handful of people were praying. For the most part they were sitting in the front pew, but a couple were over a body that lay on the floor just in front of the pulpit. The prayer was loud. To me it sounded frantic.

“Oh, Lord Jesus, deliver this woman! Tear this demon from her soul!” One man screamed. Others screamed related babble. I heard the first of it, but then lost all other senses when I recognized the woman they had bound hand and foot upon the floor. She saw me too, though her condition was acute. They’d gagged her, a move that left her with only small influence upon their minds. I saw stains on her blouse from where someone had been trying to feed her between gags, and imagined how futile that had probably been. I stood there in the center of the aisle, watching her try to remember me. I was still in that mind, I could feel it, my powers still under hers, but so much more refined from years of learning the more mature skills of fidelity. Our eyes were locked, so I gave her a feel of my thoughts, and then her eyes lit up in instant memory. I wasn’t sure if it was pleasure or fear, but it was something other than what was going on around her. As for the theists, they still had not noticed me even though I was standing a mere few feet away.

“I do not understand this service?” I finally asked, breaking the mood.

The man at the altar, as well as those in the pews instantly looked my direction. “Excuse me, sir, but this is a private exorcism,” said the man whom I assumed was in charge.

“Well now, that would seem to be a bit oxymoronic. If there is privacy, then how could there possibly be an exorcism?”

“I’m afraid, Sir, that I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“If you don’t mind, I prefer that you don’t call me Sir while you are insulting my intelligence. It is so rude. Now, don’t you think the police might find this interesting? Don’t you think we’d do a lot better hashing this out between ourselves? I promise not to take up too much of your time,” I said.

A few of the men started towards the aisle. I held up my hand, “I can get very, very violent. We don’t need that.”

“Please,” said the preacher, stopping his zealots, and stepping into the gap at the front of the aisle. “What do you want in the house of God?”

“God? Ha! I know a little about the idea of God. I know even, a little about the Lord of darkness. What I know most about them, should either of them exist beyond my imagination, is how little either of them cares about petty people like yourselves, or for that matter about petty people such as myself. You know, I, in the name of one distracted god, can suck the life out of the world, but you, in the name of another, have no rivals. On a more practical footing however, you have stumbled into my space. This is my woman. And, I am very real! It is you that I insist leave this place!” I commanded, my words echoing off the walls as I grew to a roar.

“How dare you!” The man managed to scream, one second before I grabbed him by the throat, and tossed him twenty feet back over the pulpit where he fell with a deathly crack.

“I want to kill every one of you! I really, really do. So, just so that I don’t have any regrets, I suggest you disappear. Now!” I screamed, the pews instantly emptying. A couple of the men hovered near the door, desperately wanting to find a way to regain their false sense of manhood, but for the most part I was unhampered when I removed my lover’s gag. I picked up the dying preacher, broke him into pieces, soon feeding dripping streams of blood to my lover’s upturned mouth as if she were a baby sparrow. Someone had some courage, and started tossing chunks of brick at me, which I casually deflected with an arm. She drank without a word, and then I picked her up in my arms. We jumped through the stained glass window, I no longer able to stand the stench of evil in our wake.

We returned to our home, where we showered together, trying to wash away years of neglect. Finally we kissed, and she remembered a day when we’d been lovers. We dared not waste time drying as the sun was soon to rise. Down in the cellar we again shared the coffin of native dirt, the black dirt sticking to us beautifully. I felt my cock rise, and then move inside of her body. Below me she moaned pleasure. Deep inside she still owned my soul, but deeper still were other memories that grew with each thrust. When we’d cum, she reached up. The lid closed, and we shared dreams of holding onto treasure.

It takes a vampire some time to find the strength to get over the headiness of a transition. Between the time of Gayle’s conversion and her rescue, two decades had nearly passed. Suddenly she saw strength in me, and with that value, though I hoped that in time she’d pass another point, finding value in things other than power. She’d not gone that far in her transition, and to be honest I found the exploration between stages interesting. After all, for so very long I’d been the most powerful creature within grasp. At times I let her take me, finding myself under her body as she rode my shaft, or above me as I kissed my way up her wandering legs. Through newness, or perhaps through the power she held over my mind, I was growing to love my journey into the finer points of sensual submission. But, of course, there is one tale yet to unwrap before we get on with the shared lives that we’d been made into. She, of course, full of two decades of tale, and still reveling in the madness of power, found the words easy upon her lips.

Gayle’s Story:

I found myself tearing bodies apart in the most vile and easily traced manner. Headlines featured the deaths, mistaking them for murders, which of course they were not. After all, we all need food. My problem was not murder—no—it was the idea that there was a mystery to be solved, and there were people assigned to solve them. At first I thought nothing of this, but then after a few brief encounters with the police I came to understand the need for discretion. The thought is so obvious to me now, yet I am aware that in my first few days of vampira I imagined myself invulnerable to any mortal beasts, and had few instincts for my own survival. Of course dear, that included my neglect towards you.

How I could have so easily let you lay and ruin is beyond me; let me just say that the transition left parts of my conscience vacant, and with that spoiled my ability to love for so long. I had to go through puberty all over again, thinking first only of myself, and then only of my future, and now more towards the idea of family. It is human nature to think of me as we, the human being of course the most social of animals, rivaled only by the common ant. I stepped casually on ants as a human, and on humans as a new vampire, but in all of that I missed the possibilities of connection with another being. I was but pure, lustful power, as well as thirst. It troubles me that from time to time I still fall to that spell.

It was the concept of subtlety though, as well as that I might not be so immortal, that drove me to the Stern’s residence. I needed shelter, but most of all, I think, I needed a game. Oh come now; please don’t look at me that way; as if you’d never played with your food.

I’d met them by accident in a restaurant. We talked from table to table, and I realized the potential when he had mentioned that he was an investor. Investors are notoriously vagrant, I imagined. No doubt he was living off some relative’s unfortunate demise, and being something like an upper class welfare case, called himself a fancy title. His wife smiled though, bedecked in jewelry that sparkled vanity, at the investor drivel, as if it meant something useful. They were just the people I’d grown so fond of detesting as a mortal; well heeled, full of their own importance, and most of all, sucking off the golden tit. I could not get over how useless they seemed to me as I had the taxi follow so that I could discover their home. Well, of course, the idea of useless was only on a social level. I did have the most delicious of ideas on how to make them very useful indeed.

They had several servants, though mostly part-time. I imagine that the new way of not having to pay benefits. Noting this as well, I grew to positively loath the pair of otherwise beautiful bodies. There were two full-time servants though, both maids, one for the night, which I found perfect for my plans. Years passed as I learned these things, finding within me patience, though the trail was growing hot. Along with the years I knew they’d be unable to remember our brief encounter, my face but another passing peasant’s.

I was quite hungry when I followed the maid to her trailer. She was very poor and spoke only broken English. I’d found out that her wages were below minimum wage. Not native to the country, she hid behind employment to individuals who were comfortable exploiting her paranoia. To be honest, I found my first pains of conscience when I took her blood. Some deserve a great deal of pain, and others just a little, but she’d already had her share. Still, there was a greater good—a phrase I imagined my intended victims uttered at all of their Republican gatherings. I sucked her clean and with a great waste of hypnosis so that she could enjoy her last minutes of passion. Dead, I severed her head so that she would not return. Boxing her body in a crate, I sent her back to her relatives in Mexico, imagining it a gesture of good will. Of course I see now how that might not have generated a happy reception, though as I admit, my conscience was still in an infant state, and I was at a point where another local body would present increasing legal concerns.

“Yes? What do you want?” Said the lady of the house when I rang the fancy bell.

“I’m here looking for employment. I was told by Maria that you might be needing a night maid,” I said, standing on the porch with my hair up under a worker’s cap and a common dress that I’d taken from Maria’s trailer.

“Oh? Where is Maria?”

“She said that she needed to go back to her home. We’ve known each other for some time. We used to maid together for the Rothburns.”

“Well, I don’t know?” Said a leery Mrs. Stern.

“Look, ma’am, I’ll be honest. She said she was leaving because she missed Mexico. She felt kind of guilty leaving you in the pinch, so she came over and gave me your name. I’ve had some trouble. There was this man I got involved with in Illinois, and he had me wait in a car while he went in this store. I mean, I didn’t have a clue, and the next thing I know I’m up on robbery charges as some kind of lookout or driver or something. I could beat it, but I can’t afford a good lawyer, so I just skipped the state. I don’t know any million dollar lawyers, you know. Anyway, as far as I know I’m small potatoes, and it was a long time ago, so I figure all I need to do is stay settled down with jobs that don’t ask me to fill out forms. I’m no crook. I never even had a traffic ticket when I had a car. And, I’m a good maid. I can cook, clean, do anything,” I pleaded.

She seemed to mull all of that over, and then asked me to wait. Her husband came to the door and took one look at my sweet face and cleavage. That’s how I got my first job since becoming a vampire.

At first I thought about wearing Maria’s things, but they would probably become suspicious, so I went to the uniform store, and bought a half dozen used maid outfits. There were five really common grey uniforms, like the kind you see in motels, and then I got this really textbook black number with big fat petticoats. It was so cool. I mean, being a maid and all is just rotten work, but the scene was delicious as Halloween. I managed to convince them to start my shift late enough to avoid the sun. Right off I kind of enjoyed cleaning, cooking and waiting on the livestock after so many years of stealing everything I owned from them. Then, after a couple weeks, I got tired of the monotonous work—which sort of gelled with my thirst cycle.

They were eating. I was moving around the table, clearing dishes, and handing off the next course. They were going on about some charity they wanted to give some money. I did a little calculation, and realized that the money in question meant about the same as ten dollars in middle income terminology, which was a corresponding nickel to me since they’d decided I could be exploited and worked at half minimum wage. Just listening to them blather on about tax breaks and making themselves feel good, started a tooth growing. I willed it back, finding myself clearing the last of the dishes while they retired to their twenty thousand dollar entertainment complex in the living room.

I couldn’t stand it any longer. I was thirsty! Besides, if I had to listen to one more minute of them talking their pathetic asses up, I’d go mad. I joined them in the living room, standing to the side in my knee length, grey maid outfit, the apron slightly wet from dishes, and the cap pinned to my long too restrained hair. Those were my first pair of white stockings, making me feel a little like an ornery little girl.

“Would the Madam or Mister need anything?” I asked, though they’d told me they preferred my silence.

“Uh, well, no Gayle,” said Mister Stern. His wife just glanced over, and then away without reflection, non-judgmentally.

“I know a very relaxing trick. I just thought you’d be interested,” I tossed out.

“Oh really? What is that?” Asked Mister Stern.

“Well, I can hypnotize and relax you. I learned it from my father,” I said, doing my best to sound innocent and a little ignorant. I mean, after all, the ignorant little people are weak minded, I imagined them thinking.

“I don’t think so, Gayle,” said Mrs. Stern, ending the subject. Her husband shrugged, returning to the pointless sitcom they’d been watching. I could see Mister Stern’s face though, thinking it over. I decided to wait and not spoil all the groundwork.

That night Mrs. Stern went to bed early. Why, I had no idea, since she never worked, but I found it fortunate on this occasion. Mister Stern hit me up right away, eager it seemed to try out my hypnosis. I had no illusions that he honestly was interested in just hypnosis though. Mister Stern, in the two weeks I’d worked for him, had found many opportunities to look me over from breast to ankle. I, of course, welcomed the advantage.

“Well then just sit in the chair. I’ll pull up a footstool,” I began after he volunteered. “Take off your shoes. It’s part of the technique.”

“I feel kind of funny,” he said, leaning back in the chair, but upright enough to see me well Everyone puts up a little defense before hypnosis, I realized. Most of the time he just stared at my breasts, which suited me fine since I’d been wearing a lovely diamond necklace that I’d advertised as fake.

“Just look at my necklace while I massage your toes.” I had his feet on the stool between my legs, the heel of one an inch from my pussy. I started to kneed a little toe between my fingers. He was looking at my crystal necklace, trying to get into it.

“You should talk back to me when you feel I’ve asked a question. Just yes, no, one or two word sentences will be fine. I’m here to relax you. It’s my job to make you feel relaxed, not to trouble you with deep thoughts. Do you understand?” I asked, pulling the tension out of his little toe. I went to the little toe on his other foot. I scooting close enough so he could feel my warm pussy on his heels.

“Yes,” he answered, not about to turn back, now that he’d felt the warmth of my pussy.

“You will concentrate on the crystal with your eyes. While your eyes remain there, your mind will be focused upon the feeling in your toes. I’m going to take all the stress and care out of your body one toe at a time. Do you understand what is going to happen?”

“Yes, the toes,” he said.

“Your toes are getting warm. I can feel them. I love the feeling of your feet there.” I rolled my hands over a knuckle on the toe. While I did that, I leaned just a little, letting the necklace dangle away from the skin slightly. It started to sparkle randomly as it moved back and forth. Slowly I changed the oscillation to side to side. “So much stress is leaving your body now. Can you feel my fingers milking it from you?”

“Oh yes.”

By the time I got to the big toe he was in a whole different world. I’d gradually mixed my own vampirish powers in with the basic touch hypnosis until he was completely open to my suggestion. “Now, you will listen to me carefully. Every word that I say will be imprinted on your brain. Do you understand me, Mister Stern?”

“Yes.”

“I want you to learn how to be a little less authoritative. You have been too stressed by the responsibility. It will be good for you to let go, and let me take a little of the stress. I don’t mind the job of being more controlling. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Very good. Now repeat after me: Gayle is going to help me relax.”

“Gayle is going to help me relax.”

“Gayle is going to assume more personal responsibility.”

“Gayle is going to assume more personal responsibility.”

“Gayle will help by controlling more things, and helping me relax,” I coached. He repeated every word, his eyes flickering, and his face wooden but starting to sweat.

I eventually had him repeating, “Gayle controls me.”

“Gayle is my Mistress,” I said.

“Gayle is my Mistress.”

“I will do everything she command me to do because I am her slave.”

“I will do everything she commands me to do because I am her slave.”

“That’s very good, slave. You will enjoy calling me Mistress while in a trance. It is a very relaxing word that allows you to remain stress free. This ... all of this is making you feel so good. You love hypnosis. You love this state of trance more than any feeling you’ve ever experienced in your life. Isn’t that true?”

“Oh yes, Mistress.”

“Good. Now you need to become very still while I take one little thing into my hands. Just to look at and keep safe for now. There it is. I can see your spirit. Let me take it from you, so it is safe. But, there is a special way that I need to get it. You will like it very much.” I reached over, and pulled down his zipper. reaching into the seam of his boxers, I pulled out his still raging cock. “Do you feel my hand on your penis,” I said, letting go once I got it out, and lightly stroking it with one finger.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Now you should loosen the muscles there, becoming very loose and yielding in your loins. Let me in. There we go. Can you feel your spirit, your very soul, in your stomach? Can you feel it hanging there, ready to come out as you loosen up the muscles in your groin?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he said, his breathing becoming very rapid, and his half opened eyes darting. I put his penis back into his boxers, but kept on touching it through the thin fabric. My fingers lowered to the underside of the penis, stroking from his balls to the head.

“There it is, right behind your penis, just above the balls. Go ahead, piss your soul out so I can have it, slave. Once you’ve pissed it out for me, it will be gone, and you will be so relaxed knowing I control you so completely,” I said, feeling as if it was something tangible myself. I felt him yielding, and at his crotch a small wet spot materialized as he peed himself just a little, and gave me his soul.

“You are so vacated now. I have you, and you no longer have will. I am your will. I own you. I own your soul. The way this makes you feel connected to me is euphoric for you. You long to always be my slave, and to return to a complete, zombie-like trance whenever I utter the word soul. Do you understand me, slave?” I said, taking my hand off of his cock.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Say these words, slave. This is forever. I am Gayle’s soulless slave.”

“This is forever. I am Gayle’s soulless slave.”

“Good. Now, I want you to give me your hand. You will be very under, and your arm will not be a part of your body until I give it back. Do you understand?”

“Yes. My arm will no longer be a part of my body until you return it, Mistress,” he said.

“Your arm is unattached now. It isn’t harmed in any way, and I will return it as if it never left your body in a minute. This is just a little hypnosis experiment. Can you feel anything below your shoulder, slave?”

“No, Mistress,” he said, as if in wonder.

I took his arm, and cradled it in my hands, bringing it up to my lips. “You do not feel my hands. You do not feel my lips. You do not feel my teeth.” I sank my fangs into his wrist and drank until I feared he’d faint. The bastard was still as a zombie. I got up to get some bandages and antiseptic. I sent Mister Stern back to bed with enough suggestions to make him think and act as if nothing had ever happened. His mind was full of clouded memories, but I made it easy to bring him back to a trance with the simple word, soul. Then I did a little laundry duty on the man’s pants. I soon left with a full stomach and for the first time in ages, no bodies to worry over. I slept in my coffin like a baby all day, and was almost late for work due to the contented nature of my stomach.

That very next day I tested my control. After dinner his wife had gone upstairs to take a shower. I was in the kitchen, drying the dishes which they insisted I do by hand in order to save electricity in the dishwasher. I heard the shower start, and asked Mister Stern to please come into the kitchen. “How are you feeling today?” I asked, when he came in.

He seemed a little surprised that I’d called him into the kitchen for idle chat, a very not appropriate thing for a maid to do. “Well, I had a headache, but I got over it with some medication. I’ll have to ask you not to be so informal, Gayle,” he said, turning to leave the kitchen.

“I’m sorry, Sir. I forgot my place.” He was almost out of the room when I concentrated with my vampire mind and looked at the back of his head. “It pains my soul to think I’ve displeased you.”

He turned around, his face a mask of confusion. “Pardon?” He asked.

I looked at his eyes and saw the hesitation. “I can feel your soul. I am so glad that you want to relax and feel comfortable. Yes you do, don’t you. I just was saying how much it pains my soul to see you so uncomfortable.”

He looked very enchanted after that, and took a step closer, his body seemingly stiffer. “I can take very good cares of your soul, if you want me to. Do you want to relax and let me take all those cares away?”

“Uh. I don’t know. I’m not sure that I can do that,” he said, genuinely bewildered, but taking another step closer to me, his face perplexed like nothing I’d ever seen before.

“Oh, of course you can. It’s so extremely easy. Oh yes, definitely you can do this. It’s very easy. I have your soul already, and you know how much that lifted burden makes you feel good. Your wife is upstairs, and I wouldn’t think of betraying you in a any way that would divide your family. I will be very careful to make sure your family is always together and happy. So, you see, any lingering concerns need not be an issue. You can be relaxed. Yes, you CAN relax. It’s perfectly OK. We’re going to be like one soul very soon, you, me, your wife. It will be so wonderful. What you want right now though is to be closer to me. Closer to me. Close to my sex. There we go. On your knees, slave. Go on—you want to. You want to so much, and there is nothing to fear,” I coaxed, him walking closer with each word. As he neared, his eyes glazed over more and more until I thought he would soon topple over. But, of course he didn’t, dropping to his knees just in front of me instead.

I had my panties in my purse, which was hanging on a hook in the utility room that I doubted either of them had ever visited. I lifted my skirt, and showed him my naked pussy. His face was a mask of nothingness, just stark zombie stare. I lowered my skirt over his head and shoulders, hiding the top half of his body with the plain grey material. He just stayed there, very still and zoned.

“Oh,” I moaned, long and lovely. “I think you should eat me now.” His face met my body, and seconds later his tongue started to work. I let him taste me until the pipes told me his wife was done upstairs. Then I put him in a chair at the small kitchen table, and wiped off his mouth with a soapy sponge. His licking had seemed very mechanical; not at all as enjoyable as I’d expected, though the pleasure of my conquest more than made up for the lack of skill.

“You are going to have to get used to being my slave. I want you to feel more comfortable with this. It will make things go better for you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he said.

“Good. You will be very careful, and so will I. Now, when I say soul, you will be unable to resist the urge to be my immediate slave. I will not allow you to risk your marriage. You will be very sure of that. You are going to go to a store tomorrow and get a book about the benefits of hypnosis. You will share a couple of the good insights that you find in the book. Find things that are about getting rid of compulsions and stress, for example. Tell your wife that she is looking tired, and that you want her to try some relaxation hypnosis from me, and that you’ll stand guard so that nothing bad will happen. Do you understand me, slave?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Well then tell me; what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to become your slave as soon as I hear the word soul. I am not going to worry about my marriage, because you have promised that you will not take risks. I am going to go get a book about the joys of hypnosis, and share it with my wife. Then I am going to talk her into letting you hypnotize her, assuring her that she will not be harmed because I will stand guard.”

“Very good, slave. You will be so much happier when you accomplish these things. Now, I imagine your wife has gotten all showered so that you can have sex with her. I suggest that you go do that, but first brush your teeth, and take your own shower, including washing your face off. You will not remember having eaten my pussy, but you will have a lingering craving to do it again, imagining that you’ve imagined it. When you go down on your wife, you will tune into her very movement, and learn to please her with your mouth. Then you will fuck her like you’ve never fucked her before, imagining her hypnotized by me, so that she can enjoy her love making even more. Without overdoing it, you will determine that come hell or high water you will have her under my spell. Do you understand me, slave?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Good. Now go shower. As you go up the stairs you will become less and less hypnotized, only this once. The stairs will not normally have this effect upon you, but this one time, each step will being you back to reality. The first three steps will remove any memory of what has happened. The next three will call to you over and over how much you want to be in a trance again. The next three will bring you back to reality, out of hypnosis. The last few steps will increase your lust for your wife to the point of no return. One way or another, she is going to get fucked by you tonight—even if you have to toss her on the bed and rip her clothing off. Do you understand, slave?”

“Oh yes, Mistress.”

“Good. Remember, the first three removes these memories, the next three call to you and tell you that you love being hypnotized, the next three step you out of hypnosis, and the last steps drive your lust onward as if you are a beast! Now go to your wife and fuck her as if she were a new conquest. I have no desire to harm your wonderful marriage to that woman. On the contrary, it is our hope that I will soon have you as a pair,” I told him, sending him on his way. A half hour later I could hear the bed squeaking, and imagined the ceiling might cave.

Two days later I had them in the parlor. They sat together in a love seat, and I across from Mrs. Stern on a footstool. She looked a little down at me, completely incapable of looking at me as if I were anything close to an equal. It had even gotten worse as I settled into my life as a maid, the word Gayle positively spitting from her lips as she spoke out the chores. That sort of thing made what I was about to do to her even more delicious, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“Now I want you to feel comfortable, ma’am; right down deep to the soul. I’m only going to introduce you to this relaxation thing. I do hope you like it though. I had someone do this to me a long time ago, and it has had a very calming effect upon me. I know that I felt it shifting my soul; that’s for sure. You both should relax, and just call me Gayle for now, using short sentences when I ask a question, like, “Yes Gayle,” or “No, Gayle.” Do you understand?”

“Yes, Gayle,” said Mister Stern, though is wife seemed oblivious to his nearly instant trance.

“What’s all this talk about souls, Gayle? Just come on and do the trick,” said the madam of the house.

“OK, well concentrate on my touch, ma’am,” I said, leaning over and touching her above the nose, right between the eyes. “Your husband is right beside you, so you can trust me. Open up to me, and come along with my words. I want you to look into my eyes, and feel where I am touching you. All senses should rest between my eyes and where you feel my finger. Now, the energy from my eyes is coming toward you, moving through the air, a warm spot of air, moving down close to my arm, and into my finger. Can you feel it as you breath slowly, moving into my finger, my finger getting warmer?”

“Yes, a little,” said Mrs. Stern.

More than a little, I understood, ten minutes later when she’d gone into a nice deep trance. My warm spot was behind her eyes now, warming her mind, and numbing all of the cares in the world, as if she ever had any, I was thinking. On the bright side, she was much better of a subject than her husband had been, soon between his legs sucking him dry. I knew that she’d denied him that pleasure recently because I’d asked her, though without inhibitions, she seemed more than willing to go at it this time.

“Can you feel how smooth it is? Do you love the taste?” I asked her.

“Yes, Gayle,” she mumbled as best she could with the penis inside of her mouth.

“I want you to silently count from one, counting each time your head bobs down on your husband’s penis. Each time you do this, you will feel more relaxed, almost like some kind of robot. The penis is getting warmer each time you count, and your eyes more and more relaxed as they go numb and start to stare blindly at your husband’s stomach. It’s getting easier with each number as you count, so natural, so automatic, so pleasurable. Isn’t it, Mrs. Stern?”

“Yes, Gayle; eleven,” she said

“You would give anything just to be able to keep doing exactly what you are doing, maybe forever. It is your new compulsion. Every chance you get, you will want to do this, even when not in a trance. The only thing you will want to do more is to please me, or to go back into a trance for me. Whenever I say the word soul, you will desperately want to go back into a trance for me. Isn’t that right, Mrs. Stern?”

“Yes, Gayle; twenty-three,” she said, muffled by the penis between her lips.

“You feel so wonderful when you are under my spell, don’t you Mr. and Mrs. Stern?”

“Yes, Gayle,” they both said, Mr. Stern particularly zombified, his eyes partially open and staring off into space.

“Serving me, and wanting to do my every will, and most of all, wanting to earn the right to go into a hypnotic trance for me, is your overriding passion. It is better than sex; better than an orgasm. In fact, you will find it increasingly difficult to be happy, and impossible to achieve sexual release again, even when you masturbate, unless under my trance. Every moment of your lives will be focused upon the desire to be under my spell. When I let you go, back to being out of your trances, you will be unable to put your finger on what it is that troubles you, though deep inside, when I present you with the word soul, you will instantly know what it is you’ve missed, and crave the trance that you will find.”

“Yes, Gayle,” they said in unison.

“I want to give you some information now. Do you remember when you gained the inheritance for this place and your assets?”

“Yes, Gayle.”

“You will also remember that the will was a fake. You will remember that you conspired with your lawyer to fake the will because you thought it unfair that a maid in the deceased’s past had actually been granted all of the inheritance. That maid is me, Gayle. You will remember that through this fraud, you caused me much hardship, and that this is why you have chosen to hire me; out of pity, and then, as time went by, out of conscience. Do you understand that you are living in this luxury, only because you have defrauded me?” I asked.

“Yes, Gayle,” they both replied.

“There is something new though. It is this new pain of conscience. You are so torn by the fact that you know what you have done, and have seen me working every day, thinking that I do not know what you’ve done to me. You will feel this growing pain every day, imagining that if things had been done right, it would be you two doing the maid service, and that I would be the Mistress of the house. You are not quite ready to confess, and make amends, but it torments you so much, increasingly as the days go by. Still, you go on and act towards me as if it isn’t an issue, pinning yet new guilt upon yourselves, but each new act seems so much more unbearable now that your conscience is increasing. I want you to work very hard at feeling guilty about it, and filling in the details too, of how you did this despicable deed. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Gayle.”

“Good, now I think I need something to drink. Mrs. Stern, please sit on the couch; it’s time for Mr. Stern to lick you until you are as frustrated as is he. Yes my dear. That’s good. Take off your panties, and shift up your skirt. Spread your legs and lean back so you’re at the edge for him. He’s not very good at this yet, but you can help him with your hands on the back of his head. Show him where to go, how to move, and how hard to touch you. That’s very nice. Now go on, Mr. Stern. You love this so much, Mr. Stern, that you don’t care about anything else, not even your frustrated penis. Let it get small for us girls; it’s not important to any of us, particularly you because you have the object that interests you under your tongue. Just eat there, and learn what parts she likes touched, and how she likes them touched. We’re going to sit beside one another so we can both watch you while we talk. There’s a good boy,” I teased, sitting on the couch beside Mrs. Stern.

“Lean your head away from me, Mrs. Stern. You crave my love bite upon your neck so terribly much. It makes the feeling at your pussy so intense when I touch your neck with my lips.” I started to lick, and then suck at her neck. She moaned. “You don’t seem to feel anything on your neck now. But, you do seem to understand that I am there, and this makes your pussy so much more frustratedly hot. No feeling in your neck. It all translates to your pussy. Just be very still and frozen now, all senses and motion reserved so that you can better feel the movement of your pussy under your husband’s tongue and lips. Can you feel all of your feeling and sensations rolling over your flesh until it settles down there, Slut?”

“Yes, Gayle!” She said desperately.

“You won’t feel this now.” I leaned into her neck, and started to suck, her blood. It was sweeter than wine as it trickled down my throat.