The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Colors swirl to form a woman’s face, eyes half-closed, a silken pillow beneath glossy blonde hair, lips moist and breathing lightly. Above her, a voice drifts in: “Andrea. Now.”

Her lips part. “P-Please. Do not read further if you are below eighteen, or are offended by...graphic sexual descriptions. Any resemblance to real people or events are—” she pauses and licks her lips, “—coincidental.”

The sound of fingers snapping. She gasps; her head cants up to reveal a soft, white throat straining with the beginnings of a drawn out sigh as the view shimmers and—

* * *

And a time to forget



The house was tall and brown, with a white picket fence that made me wonder how long it took Brian to sell Josie on that idea. She’d probably pouted about it for a week, then forced him to take her dancing, or something.

Walked to the front door. Their basketball hoop was still up—Josie had sworn she’d stay in shape even after she hung up her track shoes; but that was before the accident.

Rang the doorbell, and Brian opened at the first chime. “Samantha!”

“Hey, doofus,” I said, and jumped him.

Brian caught me easily, and our hug was tight, but chaste. If he’d ended up with anyone but Josie, God knows I would have fought for him. Hard.

I pulled away and smirked.

“A lot more of you to hug now, eh?”

Brian laughed, then patted his tummy. “Josie’s cooking. Tastes awful, and it’s still fattening. Speaking of her—” He stepped away and waved to a figure behind him. “Honey, Sam’s here!”

The figure glided closer. Memories from a month ago: Brian’s call at midnight, the car accident, Josie fighting for her life and winning, but losing the baby, and...and...

Oh, Josie. Her face was thinner but still soft; her smile still crooked in that elegant, knowing grin as I held her and tried not to cry but failed, closing my eyes against the gunmetal grey of the wheelchair, and the thick blanket over her ruined legs.

“Hello Sam,” she said, finally. “You look...beautiful.”


Their house was just like I remembered it. Brian had built a motorized platform by the staircase to help Josie get around, but everything else was the same. Over dinner, they grilled me about life since the promotion, and the transfer to Hong Kong; I barely got a bite in before it was over, and we were all off to bed.

The guest room was walled with books. All of Josie’s old psychology readings were there, along with some new ones on biochemistry and physical therapy. I was picking out something to read when the door opened.

It was Josie. She always liked these late night talks. When we were kids, she’d slip in through my window to wake me up and go through her latest lame-brained scheme. Which I always wound up in trouble for.

“So,” I said, scooting over to the side of the bed. “What’s up?”

She looked away. A sudden shiver, her hands rubbing her shoulders. She swung her chair to a nearby wall, strained up to reach something.

“The thermostat. Could you?”

It was inconveniently placed just beyond the bedside table. Had to bend forward to reach the little dial, and—

A stabbing pain in my right buttock. I yelped; the room tilted at an impossible angle, and I collapsed on the bed. Josie was holding something in her hand. Something long and sharp. Her other hand held some sort of pendulum.

“J-Josie? What”

She smiled; then the room spun around me, and faded away.



Heavy. Everything felt heavy. Felt this way once, before an operation. Different though; could feel the guest bed under me, the weight of the air on my face. Beside me, Josie was sitting on her wheelchair, watching.

My voice was hoarse. “Josie?”

“Shhh. Don’t talk.”

The pendulum swung. Left and right; left and right. Josie was saying something, mouthing odd, perfect words. Left and right; left and right. More words, soothing and warm. Left and right...

Fight it. Had to fight it.


Her hand brushed my waist; I was...nude? Her fingers paused, then stroked gently between my legs. Touching me. Raping me.

My eyelids fluttered. Couldn’t talk, couldn’t even ask her why.

Couldn’t do anything but listen, as Josie wiped my tears, then spoke: soft and urgent, again and again, until sunlight crept in and she whispered one final command—



Morning. I sauntered into the kitchen, a robe cinched around my waist. Josie was already up, munching on a pear.

“Good morning,” I said brightly. The cupboard had eight kinds of cereal, all open. I picked out some frosted flakes, snagged a bowl, and sat.

She smiled. “Sleep well?”

“Out like a light, as usual.” She was watching me carefully, a sign that something was up. I decided to ignore it. “Brian’s still sleeping?

“He’s on vacation. Wakes up—”

“—at 11am, on the dot. God, some things never change.” We shared a laugh, and she went back to eating. I looked out the window, thinking of Brian’s quirks. Such a doofus...

“Think about him often?”

Josie’s eyes were clear, no hint of accusation.

“Of course not. He’s your doofus now, Josie. You think about him.”

I dug into my cereal, still thinking.



Memory flooded back. Last night; Josie’s voice droning, her fingers...touching me.

Touching me again, now.

The pendulum swung through another lazy arc. Left and right; left and right. My eyes followed it, half-closed, trying to tear away, not really wanting to.

“Come on, Sam. You know you need it.”

Moaned and rubbed against Josie’s coaxing fingers, stroking so slowly at my crotch. I’d fought at first, but Josie was patient, teasing for long, long hours in just the right way, while I watched the pendulum and listened to her voice. Felt my right hand rise; caught it, and willed it back down.

“Don’t you want to touch yourself? Even just a little?”


Her head bent down again, fingers still flicking in perfect time with the pendulum. She laved her tongue out, traced a wet circle around my right nipple; I shuddered, felt the heat course through me and flow with the maddening stroking at my groin. Gasped, sighed—

—and gave in. Felt my right hand lift of its own accord, joining Josie’s fingers between my twitching legs.

“Good girl,” Josie cooed. “Now listen to me. Nothing but me.”

Listening to her, nothing but her. Nothing but the sound of Josie’s voice, as I stroked myself and squirmed on the rumpled bed, watching the pendulum, listening and moaning until she finally leaned back and was done, for now.



Window shopping at the mall. Hadn’t done this with Josie in ages, and we went at it like schoolgirls again. Brian insisted on joining us; he was pushing Josie’s chair easily with one hand, the other resting on her shoulder. The same mall where they first told me, five years ago.

Of course it was okay. Back then, I probably even believed that. Just got back from the exchange program, just broke up with Brian before I left. Couldn’t even remember whose fault it was that time—probably mine, as usual.

I watched them. “Brian, I’m telling you,” Josie said. “Go on to the sports store. It’s just a building down, I’ll wait for you here.”

He looked longingly across the mall, then squared his shoulders. “Naahh.”

She threw up her hands in surrender. We rounded a corner; some kid was pointing at Josie’s wheelchair and whispering to a red-faced woman. I sensed Brian bristling, but Josie just stuck her tongue out at the kid, who giggled.

She sighed. Reached back to squeeze Brian’s hand.

“Idiot. You’ll have to leave me eventually, you know.”

He grunted something. I looked away, wondering what it would be like to be one of them, either of them.



Nude. Lying on the guest bed, the air warm on my sweat-soaked skin. My right hand played between my twitching legs, entwined with Josie’s fingers, her hand leading mine.

Josie was talking. Her voice was different from the whispers she normally used. More...thoughtful. She’d talked to me often during the past nights, while I stroked myself and shifted on the bed. Once, she even started talking about the baby, but stopped midway, and never mentioned it again.

“I used to wonder,” Josie said, “what you and I’d be like together. As in... well, you know. My only regret, really. Never regretted anything else.”

Her fingers faltered, and I strained forward. Focused. Put everything I had left into one raspy whisper:

“P-Please, Josie. Don’t...”

She sat back in her chair. Picked up the pendulum.

“No. It shouldn’t be this hard. Time for the lesson again.”

I gasped, watching the pendulum.

Left and right; left and right.



It was evening.

Josie was already tucked in upstairs; Brian and I were relaxing in the guest room, chatting about old times. First chance we had to really talk, though it didn’t feel like it.

“...and then,” Brian said, “She just gave me that look. Said if we didn’t get the Volvo, she’d kick my ass personally.”

I giggled. “Sounds like our Josie.”

“Yeah. Real lucky, aren’t I?”

I grinned and clinked my scotch to his Miller. The scotch was a single malt, smooth and neat as it traced fire down my throat. I burped and we both laughed; I sniffed the air.

“Old Spice?”

He nodded, chugging down the beer.

Always missed that about Bryan. Every other guy I dated wore some ultra-modern perfume. I leaned happily back into the sofa.

“You? Still using Chanel?”

I edged against his shoulder, tucking my knees under me. Tilted my head to the side; brushed back my hair, inviting him, feeling the room spin. “I dunno. You tell me.”

Closed my eyes as he bent closer, to the spot above my throat where he knew I always dabbed the scents. Felt his breath, light and warm, so good but so wrong, and...

He stopped midway. Swallowed, like he always did when he was nervous.

“Sam. I...we...can’t...”

I shook my head and giggled. “Not unless we both want our asses kicked.”

We laughed together, the discomfort gone. I watched the clock as we chatted; needed to sleep soon, though I wasn’t sure why.



I opened my eyes already moist with need. Shifted on the bed; reached down to stroke my crotch; turned to the bedside, to Josie, and—

No. Something was different. She was sitting across the room, her face hard.

I whimpered, my eyes pleading for her to touch me.

She hiked up the flannel blanket. A runner’s legs still, but already starting to wither.

“Here. Now.”

I crawled over the carpet to her, gasping soft, unintelligible sounds, hating her for making me want this, hating myself for hating her.

Reached her. Spread her thighs tenderly. Bent forward, tongue slightly extended, looking up into Josie’s eyes and trying to drill the memory into my mind though I knew she’d make me forget, watching her face while she pretended that she could feel.

Moaned, and began to lick. Felt her hand tousling my hair, her voice mouthing the now-familiar words. Kissing and licking, I stroked myself, staying on the edge, praying she’d let me come, listening to her:

Words; whispered commands...

One last task; what to do, and how to do it...

Images; blue eyes burning in a sad white face...

A love; pure as worship...

The years stretching; fading into this tall brown house and the life I would lead in it...



Josie’s hand clamped down hard over my mouth as all the need of the nights gone by came crashing back in one bright wave that rose through me and exploded in an endless, muffled scream that did nothing to still the echo of Josie’s voice:



I waited on the bed, fingering myself slowly, floating on the soft, warm sea of my arousal. My hands stroked in time with my breathing; the clock read 7:14 am. Three hours and forty-six minutes left.

—there was a voice, and something shattering—

Felt my thoughts shift and fold like a paper trick. New instructions. I turned away from the now-useless clock; it was far too early, but that noise had come from the upstairs bath, and Josie had planned for that too. She always planned for everything.

Stood and walked to the door. A stray memory: of Josie scraping her knee at the playground, sobbing while I held her and refused to let go, even after the nurse got there. Then the pleasure roared back in to beat it down and I gasped, still playing with myself, never breaking stride.

My left hand held the cedar case. Josie had pressed it there last night, clamping my fingers around it with a pale, strong hand while she stroked me and whispered what I would do.

Degenerative nerve damage. Brian knew, but wouldn’t—couldn’t—accept. Bone fragments too deep for surgery, too small for lasers. A quadriplegic in two more months, then total motor loss. She’d cried when they told her, but even then her mind was already working. And she didn’t break down, didn’t retreat, refused to just sit down and wait. Not Josie.

She planned.

Reached the top of the stairs. The tingling between my legs grew stronger, pulling me to the end of the corridor. Instructions thrummed in my head; it was Josie’s voice from last night, so patient and urgent while I gasped and writhed and squirmed under her touch:

If you’re hearing this, then Brian woke up early. Weird, how he always knows when something’s wrong. It’s the end-game, Sam. One last task for you to do.

More pleasure, and this time I had to bite my lip to stifle the moan. My right hand stroked on between my thighs, steady like Josie had taught it, keeping me soft, making sure. Felt the slickness pooling, dripping down in sticky, silky strands as I reached the bathroom and stepped inside. Then Josie’s voice, again:

Not sure what else to say. Thought about it for a while. Tried to write a letter, but couldn’t. You always were the brave one.

There was blood everywhere. Brian had kicked the door open; past him, I could see Josie’s body in the tub. Her face was strangely radiant. Almost no make-up, the way Brian always liked it. She wasn’t moving, and...

Damn you Josie. You won’t even let me cry.

He never stopped loving you. Never told me, but a woman knows. I didn’t mind. Thought it would change when the baby was born, but then the accident happened.

Brian was pulling Josie from the tub. Clenching her wrists, squeezing, trying to hold back whatever life was left in them.

“911...gotta call—oh God don’t take her, oh please—”

One last task. I would have done it, but I wasn’t strong enough. I’ve left you the tools. I’ve taught you how. The last thing I’ll ask of you, then I’ll let you move on too. He deserves this much.

I snapped open the case. A glass syringe gleamed next to the pendulum. The lessons flowed back through my mind; applying the sedative, swinging the pendulum, whispering and murmuring and licking for hours and hours until I broke him. Just like Josie broke me.

Brian spun, cradling her body. Saw me. Started to say something.

One last task, Sam.

...oh God his eyes were so blue...

Make Brian forget me.


* * *