The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Voodoo This

MC MD MF

Prince Agbagwa the Voodoo witch doctor comes to the city.

Arrival

As Agbagwa waved for a taxi at the main airport exit, he thought back to the two customs officers who had stopped him and pulled him aside into a small office. At first the little fat blonde in her late forties was very aggressive and very cheeky. The other was a slim young man with short fair hair who never said much. They had asked Agbagwa lots of questions and even though he had told them he was a prince in his village in Africa. They still persisted in searching his belongings.

Once the officers had made him lift his bag onto a large white table, they opened it to reveal lots of dried plants, some small glass bottles and clothes.

“What is all this?” the small woman had said sternly.

“These items are all vital to my stay in your country,” Agbagwa answered.

The blonde looked at her colleague who nodded and aggressively stepped forward.

“I can assure you they are quite safe. I can prove it,” Agbagwa said as he reached into the bag. He pulled out a small package, which when unfolded, revealed it was some kind of large leaf with ashes and powder wrapped inside.

Both the officers stepped forward and were looking at Agbagwa. “You cannot bring these items into the country in your personal luggage. They must be declared. And we are unsatisfied with the reasons you have for your visit and length of stay,” the blonde officer went on.

“We are going to recommend you are sent back on the next available flight,” the man said. The woman was about to continue when Agbagwa blew the powders into both customs officers faces. He watched as they both straightened up and drew blank expressions. Agbagwa smiled.

“You are feeling calm,” the Prince intoned. “You both feel safe and relaxed listening to my voice, don’t you?” Both officers nodded.

“You are both satisfied with my reasons for coming to your country. I am on holiday and have only holiday clothes in my bag. You are more than happy to let me be on my way.”

Agabgwa closed his bag, then looking back at the entranced officers; he smiled and looked at their ID’s.

“Officer John, tell me what it’s like working with Officer Hughes here, from a male colleague point of view.”

The young man stretched and with a yawn, “She’s a bitch. The rest of the guys call her the poisoned dwarf or mini Hitler. She is the strictest in the department and takes her work far too serious all the time. We also have a laugh because she’s never had a guy and that would lighten up if someone gave her a right good fuck.”

“Would you like to fuck her?” Agbagwa asked.

“No, I’m recently married,” he replied.

“If you weren’t married, would you?” continued Agbagwa.

“No”

“Why?”

“She’s not attractive, for starters and she’s old enough to be my mother. She’s overweight by about 4 stone and has a face like a witch. And then there’s the fact that the guys all hate her.”

“How long have you been married and do you have a picture?” asked Agbagwa.

“Four months,” said the man as he pulled his wallet out and slid out a picture of his wife.

Agbagwa took the picture and the wallet. The woman was fair skinned and had long, curly red hair. She looked about 22 years old.

“You are lucky. She is very attractive. But from now on you will want little Hitler here. She is now your ultimate fantasy. A small, fat, ugly woman; even when you make love to your wife you will imagine Officer Hughes. This will be the only thing you won’t want anyone to find out, but you will still long to have a secret, passionate affair with her. You will stay with your wife because she is the perfect cover, so no one will know your embarrassing passion.” Agbagwa passed him his wallet back, minus all the cash that was in it.

“You, Officer Hughes,” he said turning to the female officer. She just stared at him. “What do you think about your fellow worker’s thoughts about you?” The woman turned red with shame.

“It’s embarrassing. I’m only strict and aggressive because I’m unhappy. I only have my job.”

Agbagwa pondered. “From now on, you will drop you little attitude. You will be upbeat, confident, flirty and sexually adventurous. You will let any guy who wants to go all the way with you do so. You will also know that Officer John here fancies you, but doesn’t want to act because of what people will say.” The woman nodded.

“I also want your bank card and PIN as a matter of payment for this gift. Also tell me of a place where I can stay; I will be using your card for payment of this. One month from now, you will meet me there so I can find how things are going. You both shall be needed there.”

The woman pulled her purse from her trouser pocket, withdrew her card and handed it to Agbagwa. She then wrote her PIN on a piece of paper along with the name and address of a hotel and handed that over as well.

“Ok, I leave now. When I go, you will forever follow my instructions. I will see you in one month.”

As he left, Agbagwa looked back and saw the woman was now leaning her fat ass against the table, her arms straight out behind her and she was giggling and smiling at the man. The young man was intently staring at her massive tits. Agbagwa smiled and left.

Taxi

“This is where I wish to go,” Agbagwa said as he handed the cab driver the piece of paper with the address of the hotel Officer Hughes had selected for him. The driver nodded and proceeded to drive him there.

The taxi pulled up on a busy city centre street. The African Prince paid the cabbie with some of the money he’d taken from Officer John, then walked into the hotel. On his way, he passed two blonde women sitting with coffees, one in her late 40’s, the other around 20 and the daughter of the older, he presumed. They both looked at him, obviously judging his appearance. Two older men were discussing something on a piece of paper as they sat at another nearby table.

The check-in was taking some time, considering it was not his name on the card. He prepared his powder and with a careful, well-placed blow, the man whose name badge said Jeremy soon changed his snooty, condescending attitude. He quickly ran from behind the desk and gratefully took Agbagwa’s bags, then showed him to the lifts.

Once out of the lift and in the corridor, Jeremy stopped at room 413 and Agbagwa could see an older gentleman in his mid 50’s close the door to room 411. He was with a very attractive, slim blonde woman about 5′10″ tall; he estimated she was around 30. She was immaculately presented and was obviously a woman who not only spent a lot of money on herself, she also spent a lot of time with her appearance. She was wearing a full length fur coat and black heels.

The man never even looked at Agbagwa as he passed, but the woman gave him a look that said she was disgusted by his appearance.

Agbagwa watched as the couple walked to the lift, arm-in-arm. Once in the lift, they kissed, then separated to either side of the lift car. “Who be that?” Agbagwa asked Jeremy.

“That is Mr. Forest. He is a very important businessman. He always books two rooms here when he is in town,” Jeremy explained.

“Two rooms; is one for his daughter?”

“She’s not his daughter. She’s his girlfriend. He keeps the other room in case his wife comes to the city. In fact, his wife and daughter are coming to visit him today for lunch,” said Jeremy as he opened the door for the African Prince, his master.

Agbagwa went to the toilet and returned with several pieces of tissue. He walked over to Jeremy and pulled hair from his head. The man flinched, but said nothing. The African witch doctor placed the hairs in a tissue, folded it and then placed in under a book on the table by the window.

“You will tell me more about this Forest man. Meanwhile, pour me a drink,” he commanded as he sat in the handy chair.

“He is a very successful man,” said Jeremy as he made the drink as commanded. “His company owns lots of companies. His company buys and sells other companies.”

“And what of his woman?”

“Ah, Miss Grant. Her name is Sophie and she was a part time model. She gave up modelling when she met Forest. It happened in this very hotel about 8 years ago and they started this discreet arrangement. Everyone in the hotel has been warned to keep it quiet.”

“When they come to stay here, what are they like? How are their personalities?”

“Mr. Forest is no problem. He generally never looks at you and has little dealings unless he is unhappy with something. Miss Grant on the other hand is not very well liked. She is very short tempered and discourteous. She has threatened many of our staff regarding their jobs.”

The African rubbed his chin, then pushed himself from the chair. “You will open their room for me,” he instructed Jeremy.

Room 411

Jeremy returned shortly with the key to room 411 and they walked over and into the room. Agbagwa then picked up a man’s jacket from the chair beside the bed and looking at the collar, he discovered and pulled a long, blonde hair from the shoulder. He placed it another piece of tissue and folded it. Then he pulled a short grey hair from the collar of the jacket, placed it in yet another piece of tissue and folded it like the others.

Jeremy followed him as he left the room. “That will be all, Jeremy. I will contact you later.” Jeremy left as Agbagwa went into his room.

Over the next few hours, he made male and female dolls from various materials in his bag, then used candle wax to seal the hairs onto each of the dolls, including one of himself.

He bound the dolls of himself and Miss Grant together facing each other. He then drew love symbols onto her doll and chanted something. He waited for Jeremy’s call informing him when Sophie returned to the hotel.

The phone signalled him she was back in the hotel, he waited outside his door. When she exited the lift, she had to walk toward him to get to room 411.

“Come to me,” he intoned as she made her closest approach to him.

“How dare you!” she yelled at him. She sneered at him and haughtily walked to room 411 where she opened the door, then looked back. “Don’t get to comfortable. Security will be moving you shortly.” Then she stepped inside and forcefully closed the door.

Back in his room, Agbagwa held Sophie’s doll in his hand and while staring at it commanded, “You will come to me.” He waited for her chap at the door. Nothing. “You will come to me now,” he again commanded more insistently, but no one came to the door.

He waited awhile and tried all his procedures again. Sophie still didn’t respond. Eventually, Jeremy called to let him know Mr. Forest had returned and was at reception complaining about the black man in room 413. He picked up the Mr. Forest doll and commanded, “You will drop the complaint. It has merely been a misunderstanding and return to your room.”

Jeremy confirmed, “It is ok, Prince Agbagwa. Mr. Forest has explained the misunderstanding.”

Listening in

Forest soon returned and Agbagwa settled down to listen.

“Did you get that black bastard moved? How dare he talk to me like that?”

“Its all sorted. Don’t worry about it. Let me cheer you up.”

“Do think you can?”

“I can sure as hell try.”

The sounds of the couple kissing and their passions rising came through to Agbagwa clearly. He was listening intently when suddenly there came a knock at his door. The sound made him jump, but he quickly recovered, left off his eavesdropping and went to the door.

He opened the door and found a young, blonde girl in her mid 20’s. She was about a size 8, 5’5” tall with long, silky hair. She wore a black jacket, black trousers and a red top.

“Yes?” Agbagwa queried her.

“You don’t know me. I got your room number from Jeremy at the front desk.” She moved both arms to her back, clasped her hands and looked down at the floor. “I had to find you,” she muttered.

“Who are you, girl?”

“I’m Sarah Forest…”

“You are the daughter of the Mr. Forest staying in 411? The business man who owns lots of companies?”

“Yes. Do you know my father?”

“We have met. Come to me girl.”

Without another word, she stepped into the room and shut the door.

To be continued….