The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

My sophomore effort. Send comments, criticisms and lavish praise to

Acts of Godfrey

By Ted Wood


Simply put, Jason got rewarded for saving God’s life.

Of course, to be honest, it wasn’t actually God. He didn’t create the universe, although he could alter any aspect of it on a whim, and even erase it completely if he felt so inclined. He had simply discovered our universe on his way from one place/time/state-of-being to another, and had stopped to take a look. We’ll call him Godfrey, if for no other reason than it has the word God in it.

Godfrey often took physical form and walked the earth. Many times, he had allowed aspects of his being to be born, grow old and die, then rejoin his central being, simply to gain the experience. Sometimes, he simply watched things happen. Sometimes he tinkered with people’s lives, to see what they would do.

One time, Godfrey had appeared before a mortal masquerading as Satan. He offered the mortal anything he desired in exchange for his immortal soul. The mortal accepted the offer and had received money, power, respect, irresistibility to women; that sort of thing.

Godfrey had watched with interest as the man wallowed in the pleasures of the world, but didn’t actually gain any happiness. In the end, the man realized how hollow, selfish and shallow he really was, just before he died. Godfrey took note of this, nodded to himself (metaphorically, of course. He didn’t have a body at that moment.) and moved on. He created a Hell for the man to be damned to, and sent him there before moving on, of course. A bargain was a bargain. Godfrey had learned enough about humanity to know that.

Jason didn’t actually save his life, either. Godfrey could not be killed by anything our universe had to offer. But Jason thought that was what he was doing, and it’s the thought that counts, Godfrey knew.

Jason was at a Kentucky Fried picking up a chicken sandwich to take home when he saw the man choking. He had been eating a drumstick and started to choke. Real choking, Jason knew. When someone is really choking, they make no noise. If they can cough, then the danger isn’t really as imminent. This man was heaving silently, his hands on his neck. Jason hadn’t had any formal first aid training but remembered reading about the Heimlich maneuver, and reacted. He rushed behind the man, put his hands around him, and slammed his fist into the man’s gut. It probably shouldn’t have worked, inexpertly done as it was, but in this case it did the job. The piece of chicken ejected itself from the man’s mouth onto the table.

There was a moment of silence, and then a round of applause arose from the spectators. Jason simply stood there blinking, more surprised than anyone at his own actions. A middle-aged man stood and clapped him on the shoulder, saying, “You’re a real hero, son!”

An employee of the store called 911, and a paramedic came to take the man to the hospital. The manager gave him a coupon for a free meal. A reporter came out and talked to Jason, and he got a glowing story written about him that appeared in some back corner of the local paper. The man who had been choking, however, had never said a word to him. That was the oddest part. The man never thanked him or said a word. He answered the paramedic’s questions simply and coolly, and got into the ambulance to be taken to see the doctor. Jason eventually told himself that the man was in shock. It’s not that he wasn’t grateful. He probably would be extremely grateful later, and regret not being able to thank Jason properly. But Jason didn’t really believe that. He had seen the man’s expression. Intelligent. Calm. But mostly interested. He had looked at Jason with a look of mildly surprised curiosity.

Godfrey lay on a deserted beach and pondered. There were no humans around. Not yet, anyway. There was some small animal life developing in the oceans but that was about it. Godfrey often came to this beach, in this time period, when he wanted to think without being interrupted. He could have dispersed his body and returned to his own natural state of being, but what had happened to him had been a very human event, and he wanted to consider it with a human mind. What his human mind felt was gratitude. He hadn’t showed it at the time. It was only later when he thought through what had happened that it occurred to him to be grateful.

At first he had been a little irritated. He had been trying to die, after all, and this human had prevented that. But he wasn’t actually angry. He could die anytime, and often did. He had already been hit by a moving truck, been shot though the head with a .22, starved, died on an operating table while undergoing open heart surgery, been electrocuted, burned to death, frozen to death, drowned, and had stood at ground zero of an atomic detonation. Choking was simply the latest experience.

As he lay on the beach he closed his eyes, and looked at Jason. His life, his personality, his mind and desires. Jason Brown had many traits that could be described as admirable, as well as many character flaws. He was friendly, considerate and helpful, but also very introverted and shy. He was a genuinely decent guy, which explains his almost reflexive actions in saving Godfrey’s life. But he was also lazy. He was unmotivated and had few ambitions in life, which led him to his current dead end convenience store job. He had toyed with the idea of taking college courses, but had no idea what he wanted to study. He was also perpetually horny, more so than most men his age. This posed a problem for him. He would love to have a huge variety of women, but his shyness and decent nature prevented him from being a real “player”, and his introversion and laziness would prevent him from being a decent boyfriend or husband, except to a girl who had little self-esteem, or one who would attempt to dominate the relationship. Jason did not want either type of girlfriend. He knew people whose girlfriends had image problems. They ended up playing full-time counselor. And as for domineering women, well....

Here, Godfrey found something interesting. Jason had a serious domination fetish. It seemed at odds with his shy, friendly personality, but it was there nevertheless. He dreamed of having beautiful slaves serving his every whim and command without jealousy, hesitation or complaint. The more, the better. He wasn’t sadistic or cruel at all. He just was extremely aroused by the idea of submissive slave girls. He fantasized about it every night. This was another reason Jason was perpetually alone and horny. He hadn’t met any beautiful women who had offered their eternal blind obedience to him. Not that he had asked them, of course. He barely admitted this fetish to himself. In any case, this meant that domineering women were out of the question. Jason had nothing against strong willed, take-charge women. If one ran for president, he’d probably vote for her. He just had no desire to ever date one.

Godfrey thought about the reward he would give Jason. Smiling, he realized that it would be very similar to the reward he had given that other poor man, in the guise of the devil. Only in this case, it actually would make Jason happy. Money, not because he wanted riches and status, but simply because he hated to work. Sex slaves, not because of a sick hatred of women, just a powerful domination fetish and overactive sex drive. And, what the hell, an extended lifespan. Give Jason a long life, so he can experience everything the world has to offer.

But how to do it? He could just give it to him all at once, but that wasn’t interesting, and would probably just shock the hell out of the poor kid. Anyway, it lacked style. Godfrey noticed that he was developing a quirky sense of style and humor, which he encouraged in himself.

Godfrey sat up. He moved himself in time and space to a drugstore, where he bought some envelopes, paper, and a pen. Then he went to the Post Office to get a stamp. He sat down on a park bench and began writing Jason a letter. He could have simply willed the letter into existence and placed it in Jason’s hand, but Godfrey felt that that lacked the personal touch.

Jason Brown came home from his job at around 11:30 PM on April the 5th, picked up the mail at the apartment building’s mailbox, and went inside to watch TV and cook a frozen dinner. Sitting down, he flipped through the mail. Mostly it was junk mail. Flyers and catalogs. He dropped them on the ground next to his couch next to some empty soda cans, to throw out later. (The soda cans were there also “to be thrown out later.” They had been there for two weeks.) He also found a plain white envelope with his name and address printed on it. He did not recognize the return address, and the name was simply “Godfrey.” Jason calmly opened the envelope, pulled out the lined notebook paper inside, unfolded it and began to read.

Dear Jason, (the letter began)

I am the man whose life you saved. I am grateful. I am, however, not a man at all, but a being from outside your universe. I sometimes call myself “Godfrey.” I have the ability to mold reality to my will, and plan to reward you generously for your act of heroism.

Jason stopped reading, deeply shaken. Godfrey had in fact effected a very subtle use of his power at this time. It ensured that Jason would be able to sense the truth of the letter. As he read, he knew, deep in his heart, that every word was absolutely true. After shaking for several minutes, he steeled himself, picked up the letter, and continued reading.

There are certain gifts that you will receive now, and some that you will receive later. First of all, you will live for exactly 2,000 years, starting on your next birthday. You will not show signs of age until the last century, and these will be minor and cosmetic. You will no longer become seriously ill or injured. You are not technically immune to these things, I have simply arranged the universe so they won’t happen to you. Don’t be stupid, however. You will be able to walk along the edge of a high cliff without falling off, but if you leap off, you’ll be a hurtin’ puppy. And you can still get the occasional head cold, or even a broken bone, but won’t have to worry about cancer. The occasional minor bad thing to help you appreciate the good. Also, I have made subtle alterations to your psychology. Nothing drastic, just minor tweaks to ensure you don’t become bored with your long life.

The second gift I give you is a better place to live and a better car to drive. Go down to the BMW dealership on State Street and give them your name. Your new ride awaits. Insurance is paid up for the year, and all licenses and fees are paid. When you pick it up, drive to the return address on the envelope this letter came in. It’s your new home. Again, all paid for. Don’t even worry about taxes.

This brings me to my third gift. You won’t be widely noticed. Individuals may notice your sudden wealth and long life, and you can tell them what you like, but you don’t have to worry about the law taking notice, or the government showing up to cut you open to see why you are living so long. You are now largely above the law. It works the same as your immunity to physical harm. You can get a parking ticket, but won’t be arrested for arson or murder. You also do not pay taxes anymore.

Again, don’t be stupid. If you shoot a dozen people in public while being filmed, you are probably going down. I know you wouldn’t do this, I am simply explaining how this works.

These are just the starter gifts. The real gifts are yet to come. Expect birthday and Christmas presents.

Have a great life!

Your friend,

Jason sat, dumbfounded. Needless to say, he didn’t get much sleep that night.

On June 22nd, three days before Jason’s birthday, Angela Claypool was opening her mail in her Los Angeles apartment. There was a visa card bill and the usual assortment of junk mail. There was also an envelope with a handwritten address.. Angela was puzzled, since the return address was from somewhere in Indiana and she didn’t know anyone from there.

Opening the letter she read, “You are no longer Angela Claypool. You are a slave. Your slave number is 1. Report to your Master at midnight, June 25th at the address below.”

Underneath, the return address on the envelope was repeated.. slave 1 blinked with surprise and put the envelope down. she knew instinctively that she was now a slave, and how a slave should behave. she spent the next couple of days closing out her bank account, inventing stories to tell her friends and family about her impending disappearance, and packing a small suitcase of clothing and other necessities. On the 24th she went to the airport, picked up the plane ticket that was waiting for her, boarded the airplane, and left her old life behind forever.

Year 1

Jason was sitting on the couch, in the living room of his large mansion, drinking a soda, when the clock struck midnight. He loved his mansion, but thought it was a little too big, and oddly designed. It had far too many bedrooms, for one thing. Jason usually only restricted himself to the kitchen, the living room, and one of the downstairs bedrooms. In the early days, he had explored the house eagerly, but had since settled into a sedate daily routine. He still worked his convenience store job, but had requested his birthday off. He wanted to know what the “birthday and Christmas presents” were going to be, and didn’t want to miss them by being away from home.

At the stroke of midnight, the doorbell rang. Jason leaped to his feet, pulled on some pants and dashed toward the door. He stopped at the door for a few seconds, bracing himself for what he might find, then opened it.

Standing in the doorway was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. She stood about an inch shorter than him, with long, thick blonde hair hanging down to the level of her thighs. Her eyes were bright blue, and her breasts were full and shapely. She was dressed simply in a pair of jeans, and a white linen shirt. She started as Jason yanked the door open.

Jason was, simply put, speechless. He hadn’t known what to expect, but not this. Well, to be honest, he had dreamed he might get a woman more than a few times, but hadn’t seriously expected it. After the initial shock had passed, his speechlessness faded, allowing him to say, “” before his natural shyness kicked in and served him up a whole new batch of speechlessness.

The girl also seemed speechless. Then she seemed to remember herself, and dropped to her knees, bowed her head, and said softly, “Master, I am slave 1. I am yours to command.”

Jason jumped back, and shouted, “What?”

“I am slave 1. I am yours to command,” the woman repeated, still kneeling in the doorway.

Jason stood staring, his heart pounding. Finally, he managed, “My... my slave?”

“Yes, Master.”

Finally, after a minute of silence, Jason said, “You... you’d better come in.”

slave 1 immediately said, “Yes, Master,” rose to her feet and walked in the door, shutting it behind her. Jason still continued to stare blankly. Slowly, and embarrassingly he realized that he had an erection.

Finally, Jason found the will to speak, “You... you’re my slave.”

“Yes, Master.”

“You’ll do anything I tell you to do.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Including... sexual things.”

slave 1 suddenly gained an eager, even hungry, look in her eye, and her tone became soft and controlled, “Yes, Master.”

Jason had other questions, but they would come later. Before he even knew what he was doing he was kissing her. And she was kissing back. They fell to the floor in a heap of passion.

A few minutes later, they lay resting. Jason was a little embarrassed, as he had finished incredibly quickly.

“So tell me about yourself.”

“i am slave 1.”

“Yeah, but how did that happen? Did you just appear from nowhere to serve me?”

“No, Master. i got a letter in the mail telling me to come serve You.”

They were sitting on the couch together. Jason simply stared at her naked body. It was flawless. If Jason had been asked to compile a list of physical features to comprise his perfect women, this woman would have embodied that list. Strangely, even though they had just had sex, he found himself strangely reluctant to touch her. Almost as though she were too perfect, and his touch would sully her. She, for her part, simply stared at him.

“A... letter?”

“Yes, Master. It’s in my pants pocket. Would you like to see it?”

“Um.. yeah. I do.”

slave 1 got up and walked back to the front hall where her discarded clothes were lying and began looking though her pockets. Jason’s voice called to her, “While you’re there, get dressed! And bring me my clothes, too!”

slave 1 called back, “Yes, Master,” loud enough to hear, but not enough to be considered a shout. A slave would never shout at her Master, slave 1 knew.

she put on her underwear, then her pants and shirt, then her shoes and socks. Then she picked up her Master’s clothes and carried them to Him. she waited patiently while he dressed.

When He was done, he said to her, “Better. If we’re going to talk, I need some clothes on you if I expect to concentrate.”

slave 1 did not answer. she simply waited respectfully for her Master to continue speaking.

Jason read over the letter that slave 1 had received. Then he sat and thought deeply. Finally, he spoke, “Your name is Angela Claypool?”

“Yes, Master. Or at least it used to be.”

“Would you like me to call you Angela?”

slave 1 considered, “i would like You to call me whatever You want to call me.”

“Yeah, but do you have a preference?”

“my preferences don’t matter, Master, but since you ask, the name Angela Claypool no longer means anything to me. i would feel more comfortable being called slave.”

“Okay. ‘slave’ it is, then.”

Jason paused, then continued, “I’m not sure this sits well with me.”

“What do you mean, Master?”

“Well, I’m not sure I like the idea of just ripping some girl, with her whole life ahead of her, away from her home and having her cook and clean and suck my cock. Frankly, I would feel guilty about keeping you.”

“i... see, Master.” slave 1 didn’t seem to know how to respond to this.

“I mean, what would you do if I just told you to go home? To leave me forever, go back to your life and be Angela Claypool again.”

slave 1 looked pained at the thought, “i... i would obey, Master. i would go back to Los Angeles, and continue my life where i left it. But i would still be Your slave. And i would always crave your command.”

“So you wouldn’t exactly be happy.”

“.... i would take some satisfaction in following Your orders, Master. But no, i wouldn’t be happy.”

Jason sat and thought about this for what seemed like forever. Then he sighed and said, “I guess I’ve got myself a slave.” slave 1 beamed with happiness. “I don’t know what I’ll tell people, though,” Jason continued. “How about this? In public, I’ll call you Angela. You are my live-in girlfriend. We’ll tell people we met and fell in love on the internet, and finally you decided to move here to be with me.”

“Yes, Master.”

“And try and act less slave-like in public. Like, call me Jason and stuff.”

“But still call you Master in private?”

“Oh, sure.”

“Yes, Master.”

Jason stopped, and looked at slave 1 for several seconds. “You’re very beautiful. Possibly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

slave 1 blushed, “Thank you, Master. i’m glad you’re happy with me.”

“So... what do you think of me?”

slave 1 paused for a few seconds. her slave instincts knew how to respond. she had a strong empathy for her Master’s moods. she knew that sometimes He would want slavish obedience, but other times would want friendly conversation, and sometimes an honest and frank opinion.

Finally, she responded, “Master, i think You are the most perfect man who could ever exist. i’m not capable of thinking of You in any other way. i know that this is all very new to You, Master, and You are a little frightened and nervous about this, but don’t worry. i will do everything i can to help You. i’m sure that in a few weeks, You will be ordering me around and using my body for Your pleasure like it’s the most natural thing in the world.”

She was basically correct, except it took a couple of months. At first, his nice guy instincts were in full force, and he would say things like, “slave, would you mind....” and “Would you like to make love?” but by the third month he was casually ordering her around, and saying things like “Drop your pants, I want to fuck your ass.”

In public, she wasn’t slavish, but did act like the most devoted and loving girlfriend on earth, which made Jason’s friends green with envy. They would say things, like “Dude, that chick is totally out of your league. It’s only a matter of time before she realizes it and dumps your ass.”

Jason simply smiled and responded, “You know, somehow I don’t think so.”

she got a job waitressing, and the additional wages and tips helped Jason out considerably. Naturally, any money she made belonged to him. He would take her paycheck, and would give her money if she needed things like clothes. It was always things she needed. she never wanted anything, except to serve.

One night, as they lay in bed relaxing after a round of sex, slave 1 said, “Master, i think You will be getting more slaves eventually.”

“I think so, too. Why else would you have a number?”

“True, Master. i’d noticed that, too. But there’s another thing. You know how You have me stand at attention, so You can inspect me?”


“Well, when i do that, i always have an urge to check to my left and right. i didn’t think about that at first, but then i realized i was trying to line up with fellow slaves.”

“Part of those slave instincts you’ve mentioned?”

“Yes, Master. If we were standing in a line, we would all do that, to try and make a perfect formation.”

“Does this bother you?”

“Does what bother me, Master?”

“The thought that you won’t be the only slave. That you will have to share my attention.”

“No, Master! I can sense that You’re getting bored with only getting to fuck me. You deserve to have a huge variety of available slaves!”

Jason was surprised. He had started to entertain fantasies about other women. He had always dreamed about having a huge harem. But he had no idea that slave 1 had picked up on it. But then, she had always had great instincts for sensing his moods.

“Well, I’m glad you won’t be upset. Probably, this Christmas the next slave will show up.”

“i hope so, Master. i love serving you in any way i can, but i feel a bit unworthy of so much attention. my slave instincts tell me that i was meant to be part of a large group.”

“Like a faceless drone?”

“Exactly, Master!”

“Well, I am sure I will eventually have many faceless drones. But I’m sorry to tell you this, honey, you will probably always be my first and favorite.”

slave 1 smiled, “Well, Master, i will try and accept that, even though as a lowly slave, i am unworthy of that honor.”

“Well, I’m recharged, and this talk of getting more slaves and owning faceless drones has gotten my motor running. Get on all fours, slave. I’m doing you doggy-style.”

“Yes, Master.”

Next Christmas, Jason got good news and bad news. The bad news was he did not receive another slave. The good news was he received one million dollars. It was a cashier’s check slipped under his front door, along with a letter.

The letter was from Godfrey, and said,

“Dear Jason, hope you are enjoying life. And also getting an idea of what kind of presents you will be receiving. If you have any requests, just write them down. stick them in an envelope addressed to me, Godfrey, (no address necessary) and drop it in a mailbox. I won’t be granting genie-like wishes, mind you. Your life would be dull without some restrictions and limitations for you to overcome and work around. But if you meet a cute girl and decide you would like her to show up on your birthday with a shiny new slave number instead of a name, then please, drop me a line.

Yours sincerely,

Both Jason and slave 1 quit their jobs the next day, and spent the next few days fucking furiously, with the wild abandon of two people who know that have absolutely nothing else to do.

Jason then decided to experiment with this, and wrote a letter to Godfrey requesting “a Japanese girl.”

A month later, Jason and his slave took a vacation, escaping the Indiana winter to lay on a beach in Mexico for a month or so, then they returned home to await his birthday. be continued.