The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Candice looked around the party, red plastic cup in hand. It was a pretty good party—good gender ratio, good music, nobody puking or fighting yet. She’d done a good job.

She wished she could care. But the idea that Groper was back in town... that made her feel sick to her stomach. He could be anywhere, and that was terrifying.

She was used to being so powerful. Ever since her powers had manifested at puberty, she could bench-press an 18-wielder or survive a direct hit from an artillery shell, and—once she learned to control the power of her voice—her Spirit Cheer could blow a hole clean through a skyscraper. There were only a handful of people on the planet who could successfully trade blows with her, and two of them were her sorority sisters.

But he didn’t fight. He’d probably never thrown a punch in his life. He hadn’t needed to; he just needed to touch.

She shivered. The girls he’d manipulated, used, rented out, had all gotten treatment to undo what he did. They were, as near as anybody could tell, normal. But Candice had never told anyone that, after she cornered him and before the others turned up, he’d managed to touch her.

Not for long, just enough to get a taste of what he’d done to all those girls, a taste of why they were slavishly devoted to him. She still remembered what he’d said to her as she went momentarily limp, gasping in pleasure. It had made her want to punch him through the wall, to scream until there was nothing left of him but a fine red mist.

But she hadn’t. She couldn’t. The anger was a distant, vague thing, buried under the pleasure of his touch. She wanted to punch him, but she wanted to fall to her knees, too. Between them, she’d just managed to pull back, out of his reach, and then Starfury phased through the wall carrying Corvid, who took him down with a sleep spell, and it was over.

Except for the nightmares, and the sex dreams, and the sex nightmares. And the fantasies. And the endless wondering—If that was a taste, what was it like to fall completely.

She wondered, sometimes, if Starfury or Corvid knew. They both had versions of telepathy. Could they sense what she felt? Had they seen something when they arrived? Neither had ever said anything to her, but she couldn’t be sure. Who knew what they might have said to the others?

She felt a hand on her elbow and half turned. Before she could finish, however, a familiar voice said, “First hit is free.”

The same thing he’d said last time.

“You,” she said thickly. Pull your arm away. Just get away from him. But she swam in an ocean of pleasure, and the water was getting ever deeper.

“Oh?” he asked. “Have we met?” He turned her around, keeping his hand on her bare arm, stroking and teasing.

She shuddered. “Once. You... you said the same thing.”

“Hmm,” he said. “Well, if this isn’t your first hit, then it isn’t free. How about a kiss?”

Don’t don’t don’t don’t don’t. But it felt so good, and kissing him would feel so good, and it was so easy to just go along with what he wanted. And then her lips met his and it was like her brain dissolved. She was drowning in that ocean and she couldn’t be happier about it.

He smiled. “What’s your name, babe?”

“Candice,” she simpered, blushing. Stop. You can fight this! You don’t have too—

He cupped her cheek and her knees nearly buckled. “You can call me Tantra. Hmm. Cute face, great hair, blondes always go over well...”

Through the haze, she struggled to hold it together. He was evaluating her—he likes me!—to be one of his girls, wasn’t he? Pick me please pick me please He was going to use her fuck me, make her his whore own me, turn her into a slave break me.

“Great legs,” he continued. “Real toned. Decent tits, not huge but we can fix that later.” He slid his hand up under the hem of her babydoll cami and she was drowning again as he stroked her belly. “Nice, taut tummy, too. Fit, blonde, decent rack. You a cheerleader?”

That roused something, even as deeply as she had sunk. Don’t say it don’t can’t let him find out! But it wasn’t roused enough, and by the time she was thinking it, she was already nodding and smiling. “Uh-huh.“

“Nice. Been too long since I fucked a cheerleader. Let’s head back to my place.”

She should protest. The part of her that was still drowning, still her, and not yet completely dissolved into that ocean, hoped desperately one of her teammates would see him and intervene. But the party was crowded, full of noise, and dark. There wasn’t any hope. And so much of her was so glad of that, and his hand on the small of her back, under her cami, was guiding her with the slightest variations in pressure, the tiniest little strokes of the fingers, and they vibrated out through her like a song, vibrating her pleasure nerves like guitar strings.

She was a guitar sinking into an ocean. She couldn’t help but giggle at the image.

The cool of the evening air did nothing to break his spell. It felt delicious, tingling against her skin, but not have as delicious as his hand on her spine. They found their way to an idling car, drive by a girl she vaguely recognized from around campus. She saw how the other girl looked at Gro—at Tantra, with big, needy eyes and a soft, dazed smile, and Candice knew she must look the same.

As soon as they were in the car, Tantra pulled her into his lap. One hand traced up her thigh, under her miniskirt, while the other continued exploring under the loose bottom half of her cami. She could snap him in two with a sharp tug, crush him between her thighs... but when he touched her she felt weak, helpless, needy. His hand was creeping up her thigh slowly, closer and closer, and she whined in need.

“That’s right,” he said. “You know what you want. And you know what you have to do to get it.”

She could feel his cock through his pants, hard against her soft bottom. “Anything...” she gasped.

“Exactly,” he said, and hauled her down for another kiss.

She ground against him, desperate, empty, whimpering in need.

“That’s right. You’ll do anything to please me, and in return, if you do....” His hand reached the edge of her panties and slipped under. She cried out as sensation exploded through her, like he’d skipped past orgasm and gone straight to an entirely new tier of pleasure beyond it. “You’re going to make a great addition to my collection,” he said. “And sooner or later, if I collect enough girls, I’ll draw the Girls Power out...”

She wanted to please him. She couldn’t think of anything else but keeping this feeling going, and she meant it when she said she would do anything. Without hesitation, she gasped, “They’ll come for me!”

He kept stroking, teasing, driving her higher and higher even though she was already higher than she’d ever been. “Why?”

“Because—oh! Ohhhhh... because I’m—C—I’m Cosmic Cheerleader!”

His hands stopped. The pleasure didn’t vanish immediately, but it began plunging downward, fast, and its sudden absence was like a physical pain, like shattering grief, like the center had been torn out of her. “Seriously?”

“Yes!” Her mind was clearing, enough for memory to function. But she felt so very awful, so desperate—she needed him to touch her more. Next to that pleasure, nothing mattered. In its absence there was only despair and emptiness, and nothing—not her team, her friends, her work to protect the people of Cape City—made the slightest bit of difference. Nothing except him. “You touched me right before we caught you. I think about it every time I touch myself, I’ve been haunted all year by what it would be like to—to finally...“

He grinned. “What a good girl.” His hands resumed their exploration and the pleasure returned, filling her again, driving away the despair, the emptiness, any guilt about telling him anything. “What a good, submissive little cheerleader slut. Get naked for me, my good girl.”

The praise and the pleasure of his touch swirled together in what was left of her mind. Disobeying was unimaginable. She needed his touch, needed his praise. She was a submissive little cheerleader slut and she would do anything he wanted. She scrambled desperately out of her clothes—the pale-blue babydoll cami, the white miniskirt, the white bra and pink panties underneath. He didn’t make it easy; his hands danced over every bit of skin she exposed, making her squirm and writhe in ecstasy while she struggled to focus on the task he’d given her.

His hands were on her tits, and they were so sensitive, his touch felt so good. She was soaring higher and higher, skipping past an orgasm as far above the one she’d skipped before as that orgasm had been above his first touch on her elbow at the party, into a yet higher tier of pleasure, climbing up and up, her whole being crying out for release.

“Take it out,” he said, and her brain couldn’t process the words, but she obeyed automatically. Then he was in her, and there was nothing but a void of endless, mindless, total bliss.

The woman who walked into the little tea shop could not possibly have looked more out of place. She was massively overdressed, for starters; this was still a place where little old ladies sat to sip and exchange herbal remedies and complain about the kids today, a place for cardigans and shawls and pantsuits two decades out of style, and she was wearing a neat black skirt suit, her dark hair up in a severe bun, and carrying a briefcase. She was also about forty years younger than the average attendee, wearing no makeup at all, and much steadier on her feet, moving with an ominous grace that spoke of coiled power and total confidence.

She walked briskly toward the shadowed table, seemingly taking no notice of the other customers. In fact, she had already identified three possible means of egress, which customers were really little old ladies and which were disguised guards, and which of those posed a potential threat.

“Madame Yao,” she said as she sat.

“Ms. Viers.”

“Viper,” she said automatically and without rancor. “This is business.”

Yao inclined her head. “Viper, then. Your services are required.”

Viper yawned. “For what?”

“Someone has gravely insulted our organization. Of course we have many competitors, but this one reported us to the police. I have been instructed to ensure that insult does not go without redress.”

“You have enforcers of your own,” Viper replied. “The five in this room, for starters.”

Yao raised an eyebrow. “Well spotted. But that is the difficulty—our enforcers can be spotted. We do not want evidence tying us to this.”

Viper examined her nails. “If the target’s insulted you, wouldn’t that create a tie right there?”

“He has many other enemies. Some of whom could afford you.”

Viper grunted. “There are other assassins.”

“But you are the best,” said Yao. “The best is what we need.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Viper said, standing. “I know you guys are the up and coming thing, and from one venomous animal to another, you have my respect. But I don’t deal with these kinds of inner city squabbles between gangs. I go after targets who are high-profile and well-protected; nothing less is worth my price or my time. Find another assassin.” She turned to go.

“The target is Jayden Masters.”

Viper stopped. Slowly, she turned back. She studied Yao’s face a moment, then sat back down. “I’m listening.”