The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Dr. Fatakis and Rita were running out of time. Dean Mather had finally given them an ultimatum: finish up whatever they were doing and leave the campus within twenty-four hours, or he would report them to the authorities. And they still had nothing they could use against the demon. In desperation, they broke into Dr. Jones’s on-campus apartment and tossed the place for clues. It was dangerous: they risked being surprised by the demon, or arrested. But by now, it looked like their last option.

After an hour spent pawing through innocuous personal items, this burglary seemed about to prove as fruitless as their review of the police evidence. Suddenly, however, Rita announced, “Doctor! I think I’ve found something!”

She held up a videodisc with a small adhesive label on it hand-lettered MATHER/BRYER/ME. It was the recording from Susan’s “conference” with the Reverend Bryer and Dean Mather, the meeting which had ended in Bryer’s demise.

Dr. Fatakis nodded. “Let’s see what’s on it.”

They’d found the recorder earlier. It had a little screen for playback, and they scanned quickly through the disc. Suddenly the Doctor shouted, “Stop! Normal playback!”

Rita pushed the appropriate buttons, and the image on the little screen slowed and cleared. They saw a gorgeous red-skinned demon female, her barbed tale flicking in obvious excitement, standing over the supine form of the just-deceased Reverend Charles Kellogg Bryer. She seemed to be speaking to someone who did not show up on the screen.

“I remember, Dark Lord,” she was saying. “I have no desire to be sent below any sooner than is absolutely necessary. With the gifts you have given me, I like it here too much! I don’t intend to let anyone know the name you gave me—and if no one knows the name of Lilibat, no one can ever say it in reverse.” She seemed to be addressing someone the camera couldn’t pick up—another demon, evidently, one who, unlike her, was not physically present.

They had what they needed. The Doctor and his assistant left quickly, making sure they weren’t seen. There’d been no time to clean up the mess they’d made in Dr. Jones’s room, but with any luck, it would appear to have been an ordinary case of burglary, or perhaps vandalism. They didn’t even bother to take the disk; Rita simply put it back where she had found it.

They made a clean getaway and began to prepare for their final confrontation with the being calling itself Dr. Susan Jones.

Benjamin Lewis lived in an off-campus apartment on Mercy Street. He was a senior, and not one of Susan’s students. He recognized her, though, when she came to his door.

“Dr. Jones!” His surprise excited her. The poor boy had no idea what was about to happen. “What are you doing here?”

Susan smiled at him. “I’ve come about one of my students,” she explained. After a few moments, she asked, “May I come in?”

“Of course,” Benjamin said. Susan stepped across the threshold and entered Benjamin’s home.

The invitation had been crucial. To her chagrin, when her target had greeted her at the door, Susan had found she was unable to step through it. She’d recognized the problem immediately: her new demonic nature had made her subject to a demon’s weaknesses, including the inability to enter a person’s home without some sort of permission. On campus, that hadn’t mattered, because as an employee, the whole college counted as “home” for her. Here, she’d had to be offered entry. Obligingly, the unsuspecting Benjamin had done just that.

“You said you were here about one of your students?” Benjamin prompted after Susan had come in.

“Yes,” she responded. “Matthew Lucas, from my English Puritanism class, History 107.”

A wary look entered Benjamin’s eyes, which had still not quite met Susan’s. “What about him?”

“I know you sold him an essay paper, Benjamin.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! I don’t even know the guy!” It was an obvious falsehood. “Besides, I don’t do that sort of thing. I could get expelled!”

“Yes, you could,” purred Susan. “And I know you do it, Benjamin. Matthew confessed to me. He told me you do this regularly.”

“That bastard! I’ll kill him!” Benjamin was red-faced with rage.

Susan sprang her trap. “You can’t,” she told him. “He’s already dead.” She smiled mysteriously. “Heart failure . . . they say.”

“What?” Shocked, Benjamin finally looked Susan directly in the eyes, instinctively searching for any sign of a lie.

She had him.

“That’s right,” she murmured. “Look at me, Benjamin. Look at me. Look into my eyes, deeper. Deeper.”

The youth’s eyes widened, pupils dilating. His face lost expression, his mouth falling slightly open. He tried to say something, but all that came out was, “Uh . . . uh . . .”

To Benjamin Lewis, it was as if he’d suddenly stared directly into the most beautiful pair of strobe lights he’d ever seen. They seemed to lift him right out of his body, drawing him forward into their dazzling depths. After a few moments, or perhaps an eternity, they merged into a single all-consuming spiral of colors, some of them hues he’d never even imagined.

A voice began speaking to him, the voice of the beautiful lights. He couldn’t quite make out what it was saying, but he knew he would do whatever it asked of him.

Susan looked at her new captive. Lost in her eyes, he was slowly swaying on his feet. She placed her hands on his shoulders to steady him, and spoke to him gently.

“Listen to me, Benjamin,” she said. “From now on, you belong to me. You will do anything I tell you to do, believe whatever I say. Do you understand me?”

“Yes Doctor Jones,” he said softly. “From now on I . . . belong to you. I will . . . do anything you tell me to do. Believe anything . . . you say.”

“Good boy, Benjamin.” Holding his gaze with her own, she changed form into her sex-goddess alter ego. Once again, she reminded herself to think of a name for it. But later, later; right now, she wanted to play with her new toy.

She slithered close to him and, still holding his gaze with her own, commanded, “I’m going to undress you now, Jonathan. As I strip off each item of clothing from you, you will do the same to me. Let my movements, my actions be your guide.”

And it began, Benjamin following her lead, peeling off Susan’s blouse as she unbuttoned his, pulling down her skirt as she unfastened and dropped his trousers, and so on, until both of them stood naked in Benjamin’s living room.

They stayed there like that for a few minutes, a mindless Benjamin Lewis holding Susan in his arms while Susan caressed his back, playing the nerve centers of his spine with a skill she’d never owned as a merely human woman. Each caress drove Benjamin deeper under her power.

Finally she whispered, “Show me your bedroom, Benjamin. Take me to bed.”

Two hours later, Susan left an exhausted Benjamin sleeping amid the tangled sheets of his queen-sized bed, dressed and changed back to Dr. Jones. Just before he’d fallen asleep, she’d commanded him to remember their meeting only as a dream. After his eyes closed, she’d watched him, just a little anxiously, until she was satisfied he was merely asleep. She was in no hurry to finish this one off.

The last warmth of the afterglow was still with her as she walked briskly back to the FCU campus, on her way home. She whistled cheerfully as she contemplated future meetings with Benjamin. And he wouldn’t be the last; there were all his other customers, after all.

Her mood crashed as soon as she opened the door to her apartment.

Someone had pillaged the place. It took nearly two hours to clean it up. Under normal circumstances, such an incident would have mandated that she call the police. Obviously, however, her circumstances weren’t “normal.” Better, she quickly decided, to keep the police out of it.

Eventually, her rooms were back in order. Strangely, for all the stuff tossed around everywhere, nothing seemed to be missing. Her TV and stereo, her computer, her video camera—she had a bad moment there, as she recalled what she’d last used the recorder for. But the incriminating disc was still there.

Not for long. It had been foolish to keep it. She’d been unable to resist the urge to make that disc, and to keep it for her amusement. Throwing it into a trash basket with some waste paper, she burned it.

Still, that left the mystery of who had been in the apartment, and what they’d wanted. If it had been a thief, he’d gotten nothing. A prank? She supposed it was possible, but she’d never heard of anything like this at FCU.

Late that night, Susan awoke. There was something she had to do, somewhere she needed to go. . . .

She threw on some clothes and headed outside. A light rain was falling. It wasn’t important. She moved on impulse, walking slowly across the campus. She entered the library.

It was nearly midnight. Only a few people, driven by either dedication or desperation, were using it at this hour. They ignored her. She ignored them as well, and went down into the basement.

The dumpy, bearded man who’d interrogated her before was there, accompanied by a young brunette Susan didn’t recognize. He nodded at her as, drawn by the nameless compulsion which had her in its grip, she kept walking.

She seemed to cross some invisible threshold, a wall of cold air. Suddenly, she no longer felt compelled to walk.

“And so we meet again,” Dr. Fatakis said calmly. “Lilibat.”

Susan felt a chill. “Where did you hear that name?”

Dr. Fatakis fixed her with a cold stare. “It was careless of you to say your demon name while your video recorder was running, Dr. Jones.”

Susan hissed in fury.

The brunette spoke up: “With it, we were able to summon you here. And with it, we’ll send you where you belong.”

Susan lunged at the other woman, hands crooked into claws. She never reached her. She slammed into what felt like a solid wall and rebounded, stunned.

The brunette gestured at the floor. Susan’s eyes followed the motion, and she gasped: laid out on the floor around her was a pentagram very much like the one she had used to summon the being with whom she’d made her bargain. It hadn’t kept her out, but now that she was within its lines, it kept her in very effectively.

Still, Susan thought, perhaps there were ways.

She looked at Dr. Fatakis again and, smiling, changed. She didn’t bother with her alternate human form; this time, she transformed directly into her lushly-endowed demon body.

As she’d hoped, the Doctor was male enough to respond. He gasped, and his eyes widened.

“You like what you see, don’t you?” Susan—Lilibat—purred.

“Unnh.” The Doctor had been caught by surprise by the sheer power of Lilibat’s attraction. Now he was falling, falling, under her power, his eyes roaming over her magnificent scarlet-skinned form. “Y-yes. Like . . . what I see . . . !”

“Then keep looking,” the demon seductress commanded. “Look, and listen to my voice, and let my voice guide you.”

“Doctor!” The brunette cut in sharply. “Don’t listen to her! Don’t look! It’s a trap!”

Dr. Fatakis shivered, and his eyes slid away from Lilibat. The demon could feel her grip on his mind loosening. She rounded on the mortal woman and snarled, “Look at me, cow!”

Rita reflexively looked, her eyes meeting Lilibat’s. Her face went slack as the demon female’s power ensnared her.

“That’s more like it,” Lilibat sneered. “Now just stand there like a good little mannequin and let me get on with business.”

Rita stood still, her face expressionless, as Lilibat turned back to the Doctor. If she could get him to look into her eyes again, he’d be completely hers. Then she’d have him release her, and she’d finish him. The mystical skills he’d demonstrated by summoning and trapping her made him too dangerous to risk adding him to her male harem.

“Look at me, Doctor,” she commanded.

But he was stronger than she had thought, and he was on to her now. He faced her, but with his eyes closed.

“Look at me, dammit!” Lilibat’s temper was fraying.

“No,” responded the Doctor.

Fuming, Lilibat turned back to Rita. “Girl, release me from this pentagram,” she ordered.

“I . . . can’t,” the Doctor’s assistant said.

“Why not?”

“Because it would be . . . dangerous,” explained the entranced girl. “It would be . . . wrong.”

“Who cares about that? Do as I say!”

“N-no,” stammered Rita. “C-can’t.” She was still in trance, but agitated.

Lilibat blew up. “You’re useless,” she snarled, lashing her tail. “Just kill yourself! I’ll get the Doctor to free me!”

“KILL . . . myself?” Rita shuddered. Her eyes flew open, suddenly fully aware. She faced the demon and said calmly, “No. I don’t think so.”

Lilibat hissed again, this time in dismay. She’d gone too far. She had been warned not to try to force any woman to do anything against her fundamental moral principles, but in her rage she had done exactly that. Now, this impudent sow was immune to her powers.

But there was still the Doctor.

“Look at me, Doctor,” she urged. Her voice was poisoned honey. “Look at me. You can’t keep your eyes closed forever. They want to open. They want to look at me. They are opening. . . .”

And indeed, the Doctor’s eyelids were fluttering. He was fighting it, but it was obvious it was only a matter of time.

“No,” he ground out. “You won’t win. You’re finished here.” Grimly, he began to recite the exorcism. “I banish thee, demon. I reject thy presence in the mortal world. Get thee hence, to thy rightful place. I conjure thee in the name of, of,” he struggled, eyelids trembling, and gasped out the name, “Tabilil!”

There was a roaring in Lilibat’s pointed ears. That last word echoed, louder and louder. And suddenly, she was plunging through the floor, then deeper, deeper. There came a blinding flash of red, and then blackness.

Dr. Fatakis mopped his forehead with one hand. That had been too close, much too close.

The video recording had been the key. It had given him the demon’s name, and confirmed that speaking it backwards was necessary to the exorcism. That was usually the case in dealing with genuine demonic manifestations, but there was always the possibility that this case might be different. Lilibat’s words on the recording had suggested that the name alone might be enough to banish her, but Fatakis hadn’t been prepared to gamble on that. From the way the demon had collapsed the moment it was uttered, though, it might have been so.

It was just as well. He shivered. The creature’s seductive voice had been on the verge of compelling him to open his eyes again, and he knew that if he’d done so, he’d have fallen back under her power. If he’d released her while under her spell—he didn’t want to think about it.

Fatakis regarded the pentagram sadly. A limp body lay within it: Dr. Susan Jones, reverted at the moment of death to her natural form. As he’d feared, her human nature had been too far gone; when the demon had been cast out, there hadn’t been enough of the real Susan left to keep her body alive. And even as they watched, the corpse was crumbling, decomposing at an accelerated rate. Within minutes, nothing remained but dust. Evidently, by the end, Dr. Jones’s demon parasite had so thoroughly consumed her that only its own power had maintained her mortal shell at all.

It was over. All that remained was to dismantle the pentagram and make a discreet departure.

It took a while to scrub up the paint they’d used to mark out the pentagram (since the creature they’d be calling would be entering it physically, they hadn’t wanted to use something like the traditional chalk, which might be smudged, breaking the pattern and the spell attached to it), but eventually it was gone. Early the next morning, Dr. Nicholas Fatakis and Rita Hawkins left Freedom Christian University.

Dean Caleb Mather was glad to see them go; he had no idea that they had rescued him from slavery to a demon. Unfortunately for him, his ongoing embezzlement of university funds came to light in the course of the general audit of the Reverend Dr. Bryer’s various enterprises which followed the Reverend’s death. Mather served five years in prison. The highly successful “Ministry of Repentance” he founded while incarcerated led to his being labeled “the new Charles Colson.”

Freedom Christian University survived. Professor Joseph Hinton became acting dean after Mather’s disgrace, and was eventually appointed to the position on a permanent basis by the university’s trustees. One of the late Reverend Dr. Bryer’s subordinates, a firebrand preacher from Mississippi named John Calhoun Lee, eventually emerged as Bryer’s successor, assuming control of his faith-based empire. The Reverend Dr. Lee vowed to “continue the work of the Lord.”

The sudden disappearance of Dr. Susan Jones, coming in the wake of the other bizarre events which had plagued the FCU campus, was never solved. The authorities never knew where to look. . . .

Susan’s eyes opened on a scene out of a medieval painting. She seemed to be in a vast cavern, lit with a flickering red light. Here and there fires burned in brighter colors.

The air was full of the stench of sulfur.

“Welcome,” a familiar, mocking voice greeted her. Looking up from where she lay sprawled on the rocky floor of the cave, Susan saw her demon benefactor. He was naked this time, rather than clad in the black outfit he’d worn before. She became aware that she, too, was nude, and in demon form. She tried to shift back to her Dr. Jones appearance, but it didn’t work.

“You’ve left that form behind, my dear,” explained the demon lord. He extended a hand, and she took it, letting him help her to her feet. “In any case, no human body could survive here.”

“Then this is . . . hell?”

The demon lord bowed. “Think of it as hell’s greeting hall,” he said. “Now come, there’s something I wish to show you.”

The creature led Susan through a maze of rock tunnels until they reached a smaller chamber. There, imprisoned in cages whose bars jagged stalactites and stalagmites, huge teeth of rock, were Joshua Carstairs and the Reverend Charles Kellogg Bryer. They were naked, and screaming; their cages glowed dull red with heat.

“I thought you said human bodies couldn’t survive here,” Susan observed.

“Bodies, no,” responded her companion. “These are their souls, delivered here by you.”

Susan nodded. Then she noticed something.

“There are three more cages here,” she said.

“Indeed there are,” chuckled her demon benefactor. “One of them is for Caleb Mather, when the time comes. We would have had him even if you had not made him one of your victims; that you did merely ensured he’ll end up here, rather than enduring some other punishment. The next is for your youthful conquest Benjamin Lewis. Unlike young Matthew Lucas, he shows every sign of being a promising candidate for our eventual,” he smiled, flashing his fangs, “recruitment.” He turned to her. “As for the other—!”

He gestured, and Susan gasped. The world vanished around her, and when it returned, she was in the final cage. She had just time enough to register that she looked like her old self again and that her demon form still stood there, looking toward her prison. Then the pain began, and crowded out everything else.

“Congratulations, Lilibat,” the demon lord said to his apprentice. “You have brought us one final soul. That which was once your own.”

Lilibat smiled wickedly. “Thank you, my liege,” she said. “Shall we go somewhere and celebrate?”

The male hellspawn agreed, grinning broadly. “And afterward, we can discuss plans for your return to Earth. I’ve already begun making preparations.”

The demon couple walked away together, ignoring Susan’s screams.