The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Dominant Species. Chapter 2

QUESTIONS, MYSTERIES AND A BEDTIME SNACK.

Radescu Stoica reclined comfortably on the thick bearskin rug in front of the intimate fire in the farmhouse he had taken from a young couple for his own. His lower body was stretched out, relaxed, his upper torso propped up against the wooden wall. It was the dead of winter and the temperatures outside was murderously cold, able to put a killer frost in a man’s breath and veins leading him down that slick black mountain into the great inky void if he were not careful.

He allowed himself to relax, his lean, strong body set comfortably in the complete repose of a man in total control of everything around him. He had a strong, well cut face, supremely handsome, unnaturally so; his thick dark hair was swept back like an animal mane, his dagger black eyes half lidded and content, his dark thick mustache hugging his sensuous expressive lips. Anywhere he went he was by far the most attractive man extant. His looks combined a masculine perfection mixed with an almost feminine beauty. It was all part of his allure. He was designed in every way to attract his prey, men and women, to him. His fur coat lay on the ground next to him. He didn’t need it to survive the cold but appearances had to be kept up if his true nature was to remain hidden.

He had learned long ago not to fear the elements as others did, they held no repercussions nor sway over him: not the chilliest winters night nor the burning deserts endless summer heat that could cook others like a fish in a pan of lard.

The blazing yellow hearth was meant to keep the farmer’s wife, eighteen year old Dumitra alive. But soon now she would never need a fire again.

She lay against Radescu’s body, one hand slowly rubbing his thigh the other lazily circling one of the small, very erect, hard nipples on her bare breast. Her glazed, euphoric, lovely blue eyes stared off in the distance, seeing wanton, wicked visions he had placed there over the weeks until the gentle, simple but fun loving girl he had met had been hollowed out and replaced with his darkness and absolute corruption. Once in a while she would whisper words in a soft, inviting voice; salacious, shameful words she never would uttered before. And once in awhile she would giggle. But it was no longer a young girl’s innocent giggle that had so often escaped her pretty mouth not so long ago. No, this sound had none of her former incandescent sweet tinkling sound at all but instead spoke of a cold heart bereft of any soul at all. Like the serving wench Galenka and all his long term thralls, her family and friends, of whom she had many, would only recognize the lovely shell of her body now, nothing that had made her Dumitra existed inside her any longer. But now she was expert at hiding what Stoica had turned her into.

He had come upon this idyllic little farm in the Wallachian woods in the guise as a simple trader enduring the roads hard travails. Dumitra had been cleaning a rabbit in front of her home and when she looked up at him she had smiled. That image was and always would be indelible in his mind, which was how his memory worked; he never forgot a single moment of his existence, no matter how mundane low on one side or exhilaratingly high on the other. He had complete and total recall of every second of his existence.

She had appeared as a golden haired and skinned young goddess that moment she turned to him in the bright sun. Her smile had been that of a friend; so sweet, so delighted, so innocent, so welcoming of a strangers arrival for they rarely had visitors in this wilderness. Her smile had been so misplaced; so foolish, so fatal to all she wished for in her just started life and held dear in her young heart. She had been so enthusiastic and trusting, so playful and happy in her life cocooned in her warm dreams of the future with her new husband.

Dumitra had greeted him with the unbridled enthusiasm and energy of the happy, naive young and brought him so quickly into her home to meet her husband, wed to her only three months. She almost dragged Stoica into their home in her love besotted exuberance and excitement. She couldn’t wait to show him off to Stoica as young girls so deeply in love do. He remembered the look in her sparkling, dancing eyes as she took her husband’s arm and snuggled up to him as she introduced them to each other. She gazed at her husband with complete faith and adoration and he returned the look in kind. Stoica knew immediately that these two would always be happy together, a very rare gift.

But they had met him instead and all that was no more.

Those sweet girlish things once so dear and inspiring to her were long gone now and forgotten. Now that same husband’s cold, rotting corpse lay in the wood behind the house and it bothered her not a bit. All those powerful emotions that had possessed her had been transferred to Stoica and been magnified a thousand times over. And he knew this was as it should be since he was the dominant species and Dumitra was just a human, an inconsequential plaything to use as he wished.

Stoica had killed her husband three weeks ago at the devils hour on one of his night time visits to Dumitra. He had crept into the bedroom on cat’s feet and sliced his head off with Vlad’s knife. He remembered the site of young Dumitra standing right there by his shoulder, leaning close as Radescu did the deed. She had laughed and moaned in pleasure, her lovely kissable lips pulled back in a vicious she-devil’s sneer, urging Stoica on, running her hands between her moist thighs and husking out her new lovers name again and again. After the head had been removed he plunged his face into the volcanic shower of blood expunging itself from the body and fed. Dumitra, also covered with her husband’s blood quivered in uncontrollable ecstasy as she rubbed at her pussy until she came. Radescu loved the thing that Dumitra had become. She was much improved.

Now before the fire Radescu ignored the beautiful blonde girl whose entire life now revolved around her obsession with him, almost totally unaware of her presence. Instead he pondered on the nature of his strange existence as he stared into the golden flame in front of him. He did this often.

He had no memories of a childhood or anything else till the day he opened his eyes, naked, in a cave thirty miles north of here. That first awakening had been nine hundred years ago. He had memories of nothing before then. This all was so vexing to him. How could this be so? He didn’t understand it. He was highly curious and vastly intelligent and the fact that he had no answers as to who he was, what he was and where he came from burned at him endlessly like flames licking at wood, scorching and blackening his very existence.

He had woken with certain facts planted ineffably in his mind like the sure instinct of a bird to fly south for winter or a squirrel to store nuts. He was almost immortal. Neither age nor disease would ever lay him low. He could be killed only by fire or the most catastrophic damage to his body. That kind of damage would entail the removal of his heart or head or total dismemberment. Once he had cut off a finger just to watch it grow back in a matter of hours. Then he sawed off an arm. It had returned in two days. He felt the intense pain of these wounds but he had sloughed it off as a cow shakes off a fly with the flick of its tail. If pain did not lead to death, what was there to fear? He needed to see his rejuvenation with his own eyes. He needed to understand himself totally and if pain was the cost it was a coin well paid.

He fed in two ways. Blood, human blood, was his physical food. It gave him physical strength beyond imagining, the power of ten men when he was at the height of his powers. It healed any wounds he received and enabled him to endure physical hardships that would long before left others dead or incapacitated. It also set free his use of his psychic powers if his long sleep had drained them. Yet he also fed on emotions, some in particular: pain, fear, horror and sexual excitement and lust. He seemed to absorb these emotions from others and it charged his psychic battery that powered his ability to influence and control the thoughts and emotions of others

As he gazed into the fire, an activity that had drawn and captivated humans since they and fire had coexisted together he ruminated on his very nature. Was he some demon spawn or the creation of another of his kind? Or had he been human once? If so had the change brought about him destroyed all memories of his previous human life even as it enhanced him in other ways? Some type of bargain where something was lost yet other things gained? Had he too once had a mother, father, friends, family, a wife and children who wept and wailed at his death or disappearance? Or was he some angel, like Satan, cast from god’s good graces for some sin, some heinous crime or act of pride that had been stripped from his mind like all else of his past? For the longest time he felt this was so, the most likely answer and had awaited the Christ’s return and his final exile to eternal hell. But that had not happened yet and it made him start to wonder.

Dumitra reached out with her hand and brushed his hair back gently. Then she lowered it, running it along his cheek and jaw line. Her obsession with him, her need to be close, to touch him was all encompassing. Stoica was not pleased having his thoughts interrupted. He turned to her. She was gazing at him with the rapture of a true believer. Her eyes were big, wide open, roving over his face taking in every inch of it. A small, hopeful smile carved at her lips. Her golden blonde tresses hung wildly, brushing her long, graceful neck and collar bone and another lock fell over her forehead and one eye. She looked so young and so beautiful.

“Enough, Dumitra,” Stoica said brusquely. There was clear reproach in his hard voice.

Her hand froze on his face and she quickly pulled it back. A deep, hollow sadness appeared in her eyes and a frown immediately replaced the euphoric smile that had been on the farm girl’s face.

She swallowed hard. She loved him so much. All she wanted to do was be with him, touch him, look at him, wait on him, do what he commanded. He was all she could think about anymore. She looked down at her hands in shame for bothering him.

“I’m s…so…sorry Radescu.”

He gazed at her with those incredible black eyes waiting for her to continue, not saying a word. He wondered where her penitence would take her.

She looked up at him shyly; the thought that he was upset with her seemed like the end of the world for the young girl. She would do anything to make amends. She knew she couldn’t live without him and wouldn’t want to.

Dumitra’s mind flashed to the things he did to her body and mind and a whole bunch of pretty butterflies took flight in her tight stomach and she involuntarily licked her lips. She could feel her face flush and turn hot. She fought to hold in a moan that wanted to escape her pretty throat.

The sex with him was incredible, unlike anything she thought possible. He had a way of touching her, making her whole body sing and hum and vibrate. And the things he made her pussy feel. Oh god. It was unworldly what he did between her legs. But even that pleasure paled to what he did to her mind. He was doing things to her mind that took her completely out of herself. It was like he was erasing her and replacing what she had been with a totally different person...a better person, one alive and free to take pleasures from life the old Dumitra had never realized even existed. And when he did it…when he did it….her whole world would come apart in freakish, delicious ecstasy. Not only did her body respond with more glorious sensations than when they had sex but her mind itself felt like it was being fucked. Not just fucked but fucked by a hundred men at the same time. It made her feel like she was floating on a pink cloud that enveloped all of her, cleansing her of her old bad thoughts and filling her with the rights ones, with a new and delicious purpose. And when she felt the filling…holy mother of god the feeling was indescribable. At those times she invariably ended up a mindless drooling shell responding to whatever Stoica put into her head.

Dumitra loved that feeling so much; she was so addicted to it that it was all she really wanted now. She wished Radescu would just fuck with her mind all the time, all day and all night until she didn’t have a single thought of her own in her head except what he put there. She wished she could ask him to do this to her but she never would. It was not her place to ask him anything. It was his place to tell her what to do and in the end that felt so nice too.

She attempted to explain this to him in some way but the words got caught in her throat. “Radescu….I….I….love you so much..and…I…um…It’s just that….,” It was no use. Every time he impaled her with those black eyes she felt so nervous she could barely function. It was like when she was fourteen and had developed a crush on her husband to be only far deeper. She felt so totally inadequate in Radescu’s presence and she could barely think around him let alone string together the kind of words she searched for to explain her feelings for him.

She blushed with deep shame yet conversely this feeling began to make her pussy grow moist. She rubbed her legs together. I love him. I love him totally. I am nothing but a silly girl and he is so smart. Oh god I need him so bad. I need him to do things to my body. I need him to do things to my mind. Please do things to me!

Stoica watched her as though understanding everything racing through her feverish, empty mind. He put a gentle finger on her lips and nodded wisely. “No need Dumitra. I understand what you are thinking. I understand all. It is fine.”

She almost swooned at his words and touch. Her head was spinning. He was so wise, so smart and she was just a silly, subservient girl. He had explained it to her weeks ago. They had sat right here on this very rug and he had gazed into her wide eyes with his own black ones. He had put his strong hands on her face and talked to her in hushed, intimate tones for hours. Or it seemed like hours for Dumitra could not be sure. The whole time she had stared dreamily at him, her head floating in the most intoxicating lovely way soaking up everything he whispered in her ear. And during that time he had spoken truths about her, things she not even known about herself until he revealed them! It had been so very perfect, him talking so intimately, her gazing at him, nodding to his words. She wished it had gone forever.

He had told her many, many things. One of them was how beautiful young girls like her were silly and mindless and subservient. Not just subservient to the right man but also to their own young lustful bodies. How their bodies craved things, needed things, naughty, carnal sensations and how those cravings were so strong that young girls could not resist them. He told her how those cravings always overpowered their weak minds and made them act as animals seeking to rut. And he had been right. He had described her perfectly, how weak her mind was and how she was a slave to her needy body and its desires of the flesh. She marveled at how Radescu knew every single thing about her and it only made her love him more for it.

Stoica spoke. “I will lean back and close my eyes, Dumitra. I wish to think awhile yet. I allow you to run your hand through my hair. But do not touch my face or speak until I open my eyes. Do you understand?”

She nodded with joy her eyes shining with unadulterated devotion. He will allow me to touch him! Dumitra quivered at the thought. “Yes! I understand. I will do exactly as you say.” Just uttering those words made her rub her legs together again. She suddenly had become very, very wet between her legs. That felt really nice too because her young body was once again controlling her just as Stoica had said. He knew everything. He was her all knowing god. She was so lucky he had chosen her.

She marveled at how Radescu had saved her from the evil clutches of that boring nothing man she had married. He had manumitted her from his terrible bondage and freed her mind to understand who she really was and what she truly desired. Dumitra thought of the monster that had fooled her, almost claimed her for life and how her brave, strong Radescu had butchered him and saved her from a lifetime of slavery and abject misery to him. She thought of that night often. And often she rubbed between her legs, pleasuring herself wildly until she exploded at the remembrance of that glorious night. And sometimes Radescu would watch her do it as she moaned and spoke of her joy of that night. And it was those nights when he watched that she put on the greatest of shows for him, sweating, writhing, cursing as the lewd, wild, mindless animal in heat that Stoica had taught her she was. And those were the best times for other reasons. For afterwards Stoica would always reward her carnal fealty with a good long hard fuck and then…..then he would enter her mind and give her instruction and change her even more. And that was always, ever so much better than anything else. Even now the memory of it brought a sultry smile to her lips.

Stoica smiled slightly then closed his eyes. He waited till she began running her hand through his hair before he started to think again. Her touch was very gentle and loving and felt very relaxing and he enjoyed the sensation. He gave a soft purr of appreciation that made Dumitra’s heart pound wildly in her full breast.

As Radescu returned to his contemplation he turned over in his mind his endless search for others of his kind, looking for some small evidence of another like him. But try as he might he could never find any. Was he the only one of his kind, singularly unique, sentenced to a lonely existence, never to share his thoughts, experiences and questions with one of his strange kin? He had never met another like him but that was not to say others of his kind did not exist. Surely they would hide their nature as carefully as he did. For if others existed they knew as he did that they were the dominant species and as such would be feared and hunted and eradicated by humans. And for very good reason.

There was so much he wanted to know but the answers eluded him at every turn building on his frustration.

During his times of awakening he pondered these questions often but his time was limited, for there was another aspect of his existence that he was bound to as surely as a prisoner to the chain. He would exist in his waking state for three years and then his body and mind would drive him to seek a return to his particular brand of rest, a sleep that lasted three hundred years. He would inevitably be drawn, like a bear to its hibernation lair, to a resting place where he would become as helpless and inert as the young farmer out in the woods.

His sleep was an odd thing. He could drive and control it. He could shut his mind off totally and seek the oblivion of nothingness. From this pitch perfect black he had the ability to rouse his mind to dream if he wished. Because he had total recall of every moment of his life, not matter how small, he could dream the minutest of details of any given event of his life with perfect clarity. The problem was in his nine hundred years on earth he had only walked it in a waking state for nine years and that was precious few memories to people dreams with for a three hundred year long sleep.

The other impediment this gave him was his inability to make any lasting effect on the humans he toyed with at whim. Because he was bound to only three years he did not have the time to insinuate himself deeply into human affairs and begin to direct them to his wishes. He only had the time to amuse himself with the shallowest, briefest of encounters in the waking world.

He ruminated on his friend Tepes and could extrapolate his ultimate ending. He knew Vlad, despite his iron will and cunning would eventually perish at the hands of his enemies. They were too strong and numerous; the powerful military of the Muslim Turks to one side and other ambitious, treacherous Christian Wallachian Royalty to his rear and in his midst. Had Radescu the ability to walk the earth unencumbered by his strange sleep he would have fought by the Vovoid’s side, using all his mighty gifts to try turn the tide. Who knows what they could have done together? Nothing would have been beyond them, because the longer he stayed awake, the more victims he attained the stronger his powers grew. Because he had prowled the field of death he and Vlad had planted and absorbed the terror and suffering of so many his mental powers were stronger now than at any time in his existence. Normally he could enthrall ten or so victims at a time but now he knew he could control dozens. What if he had access to this kind of emotional sustenance for five years in a row, ten or fifty? Would he become as a god, enthralling the minds of hundreds or thousands? Could he one day rule countries, entire continents, even the world? It all seemed plausible to Radescu….if it were not for that damn sleep.

The thought that he would never have this chance to change history and make it his own, to drive his ambitions to their extreme, to fully realize his power was maddening and left him with a simmering rage.

But none of that would be. It was all just a forlorn hope. He would never see Tepes again and would awaken in another era to play out his sad three year game again with others not even born. He blinked his eyes against the fire. He could feel himself growing sluggish by the moment. He had reached the tipping point. His body and mind, sated and full of blood and human emotional suffering and sexual ecstasy was bloated like an engorged tick now seeking rest to digest its bounty. As much as he fought this end to wakefulness, as much as he railed to the heavens with clinched fists against it he was as much a slave to the inevitable function as Dumitra was to his mental enthrallment.

He wondered if this need to sleep away the centuries was god’s way of limiting his powers, preventing him from growing stronger and stronger till he himself would be as a god among men. He thought it must be so. A joke played upon him by the supreme jester. What other answer could there be?

Things had been going so well, this bout of wakefulness had been the most enjoyable of all and his powers never so high. The only emolument of his condition was the anticipation of what the human race would have in store for him after three hundred years of history had passed. He was preternaturally curious with a frighteningly quick and adept mind and loved learning of the human history he had missed during his enforced slumber. It was a true joy of his existence to garner this knowledge and he was voracious in absorbing it as soon as he woke.

Yet on the whole humanity was a drab disappointment to him. No matter how much time passed they really didn’t change, had not advanced in any real discernible way. Yes, empires rose and fell, clothing styles changed and small, tiny advances were made in weapons, engineering and science but basically it all remained the same. They changed or advanced no more than dogs did to their human masters. They just kept squabbling and fighting for money and power while they fucked, had babies, ate and shit...then died. Their lives and accomplishments were pretty much the same as they had been nine hundred years ago. All they really offered him was sustenance and being foils for the games he played to keep himself from going insane with boredom. They seemed a species in stasis. Why couldn’t humanity offer him more than this? Why couldn’t they add something beautiful to his existence? It was yet another frustration that gnawed at him.

He sighed wistfully. He had been delaying the inevitable, dragging out his goodbye to wakefulness and life here by the fire with Dumitra. He turned his face away from the fire and reluctantly opened his black eyes, and looked into Dumitra’s expectant violet eyes. He followed her hair with his gaze, looking closely at the strands it contrasted with her skin where they touched. It was so lovely. He took in her long, graceful, inviting peasant’s neck. Her plump pink lips were just a bit moist and shiny. She was so young, so beautiful. He studied that smooth angelic face that hid so well the beast that he had grown inside her.

“Life is so beautiful,” he murmured, a sadness underlying his tone.

He ran his finger down her strong, bare arm. It was muscled from the hard work she did on the farm and its firmness felt very good under her silky, warm skin. Her head immediately shot up a few inches, stretching her neck even further. Dumitra gasped, moaned, whimpered then sighed. She turned to him, her head moving so slowly, smiling serenely.

“My sweet Dumitra. I am afraid it is time to take my leave. I have one last request of you.”

She grinned and nodded. There was an evil glint in her eyes. She was a child no longer. “Anything my love, anything at all for you. Just name it.”

“Bring your lovely neck to me. I will drink from you until you are no more. I want you to give your life for me. Would you do that? I leave the choice to you my sweet love.” Of course he knew the answer. He had asked that question to so many over the years and they always answered the same. Yet he kept asking because seeing them as his puppets wanting to sacrifice themselves on the altar of his thirst and desires always gave him a master’s thrill and even now before the words left her lips he could feel his cock grow rock hard. All they wanted after he was done with their minds was what he wanted. And what he most often demanded was that they die for his pleasure. Like Tepes, he was a harsh ruler and he enjoyed watching his subjects sacrifice everything for him.

He had has sex with Dumitra many times over their brief acquaintance but he knew nothing would rival the feeling for both that was rapidly approaching.

Dumitra immediately stretched out her neck and brought it close to his lips. He felt her whole body quiver. He could smell her arousal. He looked at the moist, golden brown skin. He could smell the freshness of it like the pungent, black soil she used to till with her husband at spring planting.

“I want nothing more than to give myself to you, Radescu,” she murmured, her big, lovely eyes fluttering. He could hear her heart pounding in her chest with lust and excitement and want. He knew her husband had never come close to bringing her to the precipice of this exquisite pleasure and lust no matter how able he may have been in bed. “Use me….use….all of me.”

He gazed at her ethereal beauty and searched his mind for any feelings or emotions he had for this young girl whose vibrant hopes and dreams and finally her very life he was ending. But he felt nothing. Some of his thralls he actually became attached to in his own fashion, but not this one. Dumitra for all her beauty did not engage him on an intellectual level. He found her bland and callow. She offered him no spark of surprise or divertissement through a strong personality or agile, clever mind. Dumitra was just there. So in the end, like so many of his victims it just boiled down to the fact he was the dominant species and she was his by right. Just as humans did not cry or regret the slaughter of cattle, pigs or chickens used for their survival, neither did Dumitra mean anything more to him. The love between them was strictly unilateral.

But despite her failings, she was good for something.

He lowered his hand between her legs; he wanted to feel it when it happened. It was yet another erotic affirmation to him of his total mastery over this amazingly beautiful woman’s perfect young body and warped mind.

“You die so that I may live again, my lovely,” he murmured in her ear.

Dumitra smiled, so happy, so enraptured with that thought. “I die so that you may live again,” she husked dreamily, her breath so hot, her now sweaty chest heaving in anticipation and pleasure. She was so totally under his sway and she loved how it felt. Dumitra knew she had never really been alive till she met her master. She felt so hot and horny under the heat of the blazing fireplace and Stoica’s dark spell.

Radescu’s fangs slowly lowered and then he started kissing her neck. She wiggled in his grip, moaning and gasping and whimpering, her face enraptured in pleasure.

“More, more….more…..my love…”she whispered in a lust broken voice. “Do it…take from my body..my perfect, beautiful master…”

Radescu smiled at Dumitra’s desperate blandishment. Her mind was completely his. The longing and desperation in her girlish whine was so intoxicating. “I will miss you my love,” he murmured as a parting gift through his building thirst. It was a not true but he wanted her to die with that lie in her mind. He wanted her to be his even as she died. Then he did her the favor of giving her what she needed so badly.

Her body rocked with orgasm as the fangs penetrated her neck. Every muscle in her lithe body contracted then exploded. She groaned gibberish words as she arched her back and spread her legs as though begging for his cock. She squirted on his hand, as he knew she would, as they all did when he made this unholy penetration of their minds and bodies. She clung to him tighter and tighter as though she would never let him go.

Both of them became as one, warm tides and glorious blankets of colors enveloping their minds, shivers of pleasure seemed to explode from every inch of their bodies and radiate out in waves. Dumitra started to rock her hips and sex lewdly, back and forth as though fucking an imaginary cock all the while smiling and groaning. She looked and sounded more animal than girl now, a wild, wanton animal functioning purely on instinct and desire with no mind left to reason out any actions. Stoica absorbed this intensely erotic sight, imprinting it on his memory even as another part of him absorbed and fed on her emotions. He knew he would want to revisit this scene again during his rest.

When the young woman’s heart finally gave out she still had a smile on her face when he lowered her to the floor. She looked so beautiful and happy. Even in death she was his. He liked that.

An hour later Radescu exited the small farm into a fierce storm and started his long trek into the woods through the driving snow. He had left the door open so the wolves could feed on Dumitra’s body. He felt a kinship with them. They too were cunning, fearless hunters, at the top of their particular food chain and the winter was cold and long. She was a gift of his noblesse oblige from one predator to another. Nothing of his slave Dumitra would be wasted.

Stoica had a long way to go but the distance and cold was no issue for him. He was making a beeline for a shallow, well hidden cave he staked out long ago. It would be the perfect hidey hole for his three hundred year sleep.

From a long distance he resembled a large rat scurrying against the pale white landscape.