The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Cynthia was walking briskly home from work, when she spotted a pop-up store she had never seen before. From the looks of the exterior façade, it appeared to be a New Age type of store.

Now, Cynthia wasn’t one who necessarily made a habit of frequenting New Age stores, or spaces, but by sheer virtue of its novelty, she felt she owed it at least one visit. After all, she walked this exact route home from work, day in and day out, and she’d never noticed it before. Either it had been here all along, and she’d ignored it for years—in which case, she owed the store a visit as an apology for her previous neglect—or, it had recently opened, in which case she owed the store a visit in the spirit of wishing it well.

She knew all the other stores and restaurants along the walk home, and had made a policy of visiting each one over the years, at least once. This was to fill out her world, and make it bigger than it already was—now when she walked home, she knew the exact atmosphere, décor, and typical clientele of each place she passed—except this New Age one.

Her mind made up, Cynthia pulled open the front door of the shop, just in time to hear the tinkling of the bell announce her entry.

The first thing that struck her was that the store was well-stocked, and the ceilings and shelves were high, creating the feeling that there was miles and miles of knowledge, and many twisting, turning paths of experience running all through the store that could never be fully exhausted. She couldn’t make out what was in the back of the store from where she was, as the store extended deceptively far beyond the front façade, but closest to her she could see lava lamps and dream-catchers—clearly intended for a walk in, casual audience.

“Hello,” She called out, but there was no response. Despite the aisles and aisles of full inventory, she couldn’t see another person. In fact, from where she was standing, she couldn’t even spot a check out counter. Giving that up for a lost cause, (it was likely tucked away somewhere difficult to locate) she ventured deeper into the store, interested to see what other products the store offered, beyond the mainstream friendly lava lamps and dream catchers.

She passed an entire book section, organized but filled to overflowing—enough to be its own small bookstore really, though a few titles did pique her interest: Surrendering Your Identity to a Higher Intelligence, and the Joy of Letting Go, to name a few—but she kept walking.

She passed a section with all sizes of incense holders, and then many varieties of incense, but didn’t stop there, either. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was looking for something, something specific she couldn’t put her finger on. She’d know it when she saw it, but so far it was eluding her.

Then, she turned at the end of a winding aisle, and saw it.

A beautiful collection of crystals, hanging on chains hooked on the wall. There was a complete rainbow of colours—blues, greens, reds, purples, yellows, oranges—but not only that, each color had enumerable shades and tints of shades so that it seemed almost like looking at every color that could ever or had ever existed, all in one place. It gave her the feeling that she was somehow outside of time.

But one crystal caught her eye above all the others—a deep, blood red crimson one, with a flaw in the very centre, a jagged little crooked v, which let the tiniest slivers of light through, tinting it into a deep red before sending it out the other side.

She hadn’t noticed a flaw in any of the others, so it struck her. And the color of the gem itself set off the flaw even more—it was the color of deep, rich, thick clotting blood, so the crooked v in the very center stood out sorely, in a way it wouldn’t have on one of the lime green ones.

Hesitantly, she reached out to grab the chain, wanting to look more deeply inside the flaw. It hung from a silver chain she barely registered and was surprising light when she lifted the chain from the hook.

She brought it close to her, right to eye-level, and stared into the flaw.

The crystal was only a few inches from her face, as close as she could bring it without having to cross her eyes to look at it, and though she still enjoyed the color of the crystal, her eyes almost of their own accord went back to that flaw.

Under her gaze, it widened, like an opening mouth, and then closed again into a thin line. Startled, she looked back at the chain, and saw that it was naturally spinning between her fingers, slowly, slowly turning, without her moving her arm at all.

Chalking it up to the make of the chain, she looked back into the center of the flaw, and watched it, opening and closing its mouth, opening and closing its mouth. The chain turned as far as it would go and then started unspooling back—the flaw now opening and closing in the opposite way. Her eyes were locked to it—it completely captivated her, and she never wanted to look away from it again.

After so many times of watching that tiny mouth opening and closing for her, she noticed instead the variances of light in it. It was a flaw, but it clearly cut through the crystal at different jagged edges, to varying degrees of depth. When the light came through from behind, it was like staring into a red prism—all the possible hues of red fading into and out of each in one sliding line, that never stopped moving.

Unconsciously, she found herself turning the chain between her fingers, making the line of color flow more quickly, and then finally keeping it in a constant state of motion so the colors would never stop shifting in and out of each other within that opening and closing mouth.

“I see you found one you liked,” a woman’s voice startled her from her reverie.

Blearily, feeling oddly disoriented, she looked around for the sound of the voice, and found a young woman, about her age if not slightly older standing beside her, giving her a slight smile. The woman was blonde, with long flowing hair that, if Cynthia had been more in her right mind, she would have thought was typical of a New Age store owner type. As it was, her eyes were aching from the adjustment back to colors that weren’t deep crimson, and the multitudes where in, and areas of focus that weren’t a half-inch crooked v.

“The flaw…” she tried. Somehow, she felt the desperate need to explain to this woman why the crystal was so beautiful to her, why it was that she had been standing in this back corner of the store, staring into it, and spinning it. It seemed very important the woman understand, suddenly. “It’s so beautiful,” she tried again, feeling almost like the beauty would move her to tears.

“Yes, it does make this particular crystal very special,” the girl said, with that same mysterious smile. “May I show you something else it can do?”

Wordlessly, Cynthia nodded, and the girl reached for the silver chain, her fingers brushing Cynthia’s as she did. The contact sent a shiver through her.

Adeptly, the girl set the chain swinging from left to right, one position Cynthia hadn’t thought to try in all the time she had stared deeply, deeply into that flaw. She felt such a rush of gratitude that this girl, this wonderful, brilliant girl had started this new direction of swinging, because what the flaw was doing now drew a low moan of surprise from her.

It was like the red prism was… rippling, bubbling out from the center to the very edges of the gem, and then drawing back from the edges of it into the center, in time with her breath, in time with her heartbeat. The light as it moved through the crystal and her chest moved as one, her heart beating out a perfectly synchronized soundtrack, and her eyes were helpless to follow the swinging crystal from side to side.

It created such a state of deep peace and wonder in her, a delicious feeling she had never known before, and she could only watch it swing. She wondered why she had never felt it before, wondered if she could feel this way for the rest of her life. The thought brought her great happiness.

The longer she watched, the more relaxed she felt, the relaxation so intense it was like a burning within every muscle of her body, throbbing, and pulsing in time with the swinging that only made her want to moan more. It was like an elixir through her veins, it brought her such bone deep satisfaction.

Still it turned, relaxing her so much, she could feel her jaw unhinge, could feel her bones sinking into her joints in a way that felt right, and still the rippling and pulsing colours of the crystal only seemed to bring her deeper into the feeling. She wanted them too. She wanted them to draw her down, deeper into it, until she could almost be sitting inside the very centre of the flaw itself.

It stopped spinning abruptly, and suddenly there was silence—she realized the other girl had been speaking the whole time she had watched. The thought should have troubled her, because she couldn’t remember a word the girl had spoken, but she felt strangely at ease when she realized this.

The girl was smiling at her again, that strange beguiling smile, and she found herself wondering if instead of staring into the crystal for ever, she could instead stare into the eyes of this shopkeeper… if she stared hard enough, she could almost see crimson red specks streaking through her amber irises…

“There are lots more things this old crystal can do—it would be a shame if I sold it to you without you knowing them all. You could come back tomorrow, and I could show you some more,” She spoke solely—now her lips drawing Cynthia’s attention fully, absorbing her as completely as the crystal had. They were crimson too, crimson with lipstick she had not noticed until this moment. Strangely, she could feel herself mouthing the words even as the blonde girl spoke them, as if she already knew them by heart… somehow.

“I could come back tomorrow,” she repeated, hazily, vocalizing aloud now, “and you could show me some more…” she trailed off. She had the odd feeling that drool was pooling at edges of her mouth at the thought alone of feeling that feeling again.

The blonde girl leaned in close, pressing her lips close to Cynthia’s ear. “Just remember, dear one… remember to forget until it’s time to remember… your subconscious knows exactly how to walk you back here, again and again…”

Cynthia thought there might have been more after that, but the rest of the night sort of trailed off unclearly into an indistinct fog. Somehow, she found herself crossing the threshold of her own townhouse at nearly 1:00 in the morning.

She couldn’t quite remember where she’d been, or why she’d taken so long, but it didn’t worry her. It clearly wasn’t important. After all, there was something… something for her to do after work tomorrow, that kept slipping away from the edges of her conscious mind as she trailed off to sleep… something….

In her dreams, she saw amber eyes flecked with crimson, and a shimmering, rippling gem that seemed to spin forever.