The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

By the Sword

by Sandman

I was born the second son of a prince’s brother, fourth in line for the throne of a small principality, and destined to not even inherit the paltry family lands left after my father’s debts. I was sent off to the University at Heidelberg, but I soon realized that the life of a scholar or a priest was not for me. The tiny allowance that my brother provided me was insufficient to my needs and tastes, so I went to war.

I entered the service of the Hapsburgs to fight against the Protestants. As I was of noble birth, I was given a commission and command of a company.

I had studied enough of the great battles of history at university to keep my command from being decimated before I learned to lead. I had also done enough dueling to keep myself alive until I learned to fight.

During the sack of a small Bohemian village I became separated from the main body of my company. Many of the cottages were already in flames. Terrified villagers ran past me as I headed towards the fire and my men.

Then I heard commanding shouts and the clank of metal; perhaps a few local attempting to mount a resistance. I had no doubt that they would present no trouble to my company, but I was alone and in no hurry to face a mob of angry farmers. I stepped off the path, into the shadows of the trees.

A short walk into the woods I came upon a half-collapsed, moss-covered hovel. I drew my sword and ducked in the low door.

With a high-pitched yelp, a small man stumbled from his bench, knocking over the small table in front of him. A bowl flew up from the table, sending a cloud of choking dust into the air. The man shrieked, “Don’t kill me!” as he shrank into a corner. The point of my rapier was at his throat, but something held me from slicing it open.

I hissed, “Silence!” His terrified bleating stopped instantly.

We stood unmoving in the dim light of his small fire. I blinked at the dust. My throat burned and my eyes watered, making it harder to focus on him. He was a gnomish figure, less than five foot tall and spindly. His bald head, white beard, and threadbare robe put me in mind of some of the Doctors at University. I kept my blade to his throat. I was not sure what kept me from killing him quietly right then and there; I could not leave him here alive to raise the alarm against me. After an interminable amount of time, I heard musket shots, the clash of weapons, and screams of pain. My men were dispatching the few remaining armed villagers. I relaxed a bit and allowed myself to cough to clear the dust from my throat. I tightened my grip on my sword, pulling it back to swing.

The little man’s eye showed his panic, he pleaded, his words rushing out, “Please, Herr Kapitän let me live, and I will give you the key to great power. I can give you the ability to command anyone completely.” I smirked at the powerless little man offering me such power. “You don’t believe me,” he continued. “But think, what kept you from killing me as soon as you entered my home? I have discovered the alchemical formula of control.”

“So you are a great sorcerer then, with the power to bend men to your will? Then why are you bargaining with me? Why not just order me to leave you in peace?” It was a fantastic notion, but I had to admit to myself that something had held me from finishing him.

“The powder is not the complete formulation, it only allows one to influence, to suggest, and its effect is short lived. But the infusion I make with it, if used correctly, grants total control.” He reached up to a shelf and took down a small crystal vial. “Envenom your sword with this, and any you defeat with it will be yours to command for life. Let me live, and I will make as much for you as you can use.”

“Place it on the bench and back away.” I picked up the small bottle. “I believe you are either a liar or a madman, but to amuse myself I will test your magic potion. My men will hold you until I return, and if I am not satisfied, I will have you flayed alive.”

* * *

The sun was rising as I entered the village. Smoke from the burned cottages twisted in the morning breeze. At first I thought that I would find no one to test the sorcerer’s potion on, but a glimpse of motion led me to a barn. My soldiers had already cleared out the milk cows, but somehow they had missed the dairymaid who had hidden herself there. I drew my sword from its scabbard, unstopped the vial and poured the thick, sticky liquid on the blade.

The girl backed away from me, shaking her head. Her straw-blonde braids swinging at her shoulders. “Please sir, I meant no harm. I hid in here because I was scared by the soldiers.”

I swung my sword in a wide arc. The flat of the blade landed against her thigh. She cried out as the blow stung her through the heavy fabric of her skirt. She turned to run; my blade lashed through the air again, landing hard against her shoulder. She stumbled and grabbed at the shoulder. I stepped between her and the door. I swung three more times, the cold metal of my rapier slapped her leg, her arm and across her back. She dropped to her hands and knees, sobbing.

I could see a trickle of blood on her arm where the edge of my blade had broken the skin. Was that enough for the potion to have effect? I had no particular desire to grievously wound an unarmed maid to test the word of an undoubtedly mad hermit. “On your feet!” I commanded. She struggled to stand, shaking. “Stop crying.” She held her breath.

I needed a way to know if she was under a spell, or if she was just a scared peasant who would do anything to avoid another beating. An idea struck me. “Tell me the truth, do you think I am a handsome man?”

She looked down at the ground and spoke almost too low to hear, “No, sir.”

“Tell me what about me is not handsome, and please speak up”

Still keeping her eyes locked on the ground she answered louder “You are short, sir, and your nose is crooked, and the scar on your face, and...”

“That is enough.” Certainly she had not given the answer of someone trying to escape a beating. She was completely honest, even though she trembled with fear as she spoke. I began to believe; now for a more interesting test.

“I promise you on my honor that if you leave now and go straight to your home, I will do nothing to stop you. Furthermore, I will order my men to see that you and your family are protected from harm. On the other hand, if you stay in this barn with me, I will use you like a whore.” I walked to the corner of the barn furthest from the door. I leaned against the wall and watched her. Her eyes darted to me nervously, as if she were trying to figure out what trick I was playing on her.

I threw my sword up into the loft, and sat down cross-legged on the ground. “If you go now, no harm will come to you.” She backed towards the door, watching me carefully, afraid that I would jump up and pursue her. I kept still. Only when she reached the door did she turn away from me. Before she could break into a run, I spoke softly. “Come to me, please.” After the slightest hesitation in the door, she turned and crossed the barn to stand in front of me.

I chuckled as I stood. “Even though I told you I would use you like a whore, you returned.” I walked in a circle around her. “Lift your dress and shift up. Hold them up above your waist.” She gathered the fabric of her skirts up, exposing herself to me. I stopped in front of her and faced her. “Spread your legs!” As she did I pressed my hand up between her thighs. She gasped as my gloved hand cupped her cunt.

I leaned in close and hissed in her ear, “Rub yourself against my hand. Pleasure yourself.” She let out a high-pitched whine of protest, but her hips began to rock back and forth. I pressed my hand harder up between her legs, almost lifting her from her feet. Her legs shook, her breath was shallow and fast. Her head lolled back as her rocking sped up.

The dairymaid humped against my hand like an unruly dog. I could feel the heat of her sex through the thick leather of my glove. I growled, “Come on my hand, now!” She let out a low moan and she pitched forward to lean against me, as her knees buckled and her body shuddered.

I pulled my hand from between her legs and let her slide down my body to her knees. I pressed my palm to her face. “Smell the odor of your excitement. Lick your juices from my glove.” She inhaled deeply, then her tongue slipped from between her lips. She lapped at the palm and licked up and down the fingers of my glove. When she had cleaned the glove to my satisfaction, I ordered her down onto her knees and elbows.

I stood behind the maid and pushed her skirts up to expose her ass. I pulled my gloves off and dropped them on the ground next to her face. She let out a low gasp as she was confronted again with the evidence of her sluttish behavior. Wasting no time, I unbuckled my belt and pushed down my trousers. Once I was down my knees behind her, my hands kneaded her ample, white ass. I gripped her thighs and pulled them wide apart. The head of my cock was poised at the entry of her cunt. “I’m going to fuck you now, and you are going to love it.” I thrust in deep; my fingers dug into her thighs and yanked her back to meet me.

Soon I was riding the fraulein hard. She grunted each time I drove into her, her head thrashed back and forth. My hips bucked, slapping against her ass. I groaned low in the back of my throat, as my seed shot into her. “Now you come too,” I ordered. She shuddered and gasped as her cunt tightened around my shaft.

I left her lying spent on the hay of the barn. As I was walking back to my company’s bivouac, I met one of my sergeants. I handed him a few shillings, and instructed him to give them to the milkmaid’s family, and to inform the men that I had forbidden the looting of their home and possessions.