The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Gentle Dreamer:

This is a dream of the purest fiction. Whether it inspires your heart to night visions of the darkest terror or the sweetest arousal, remember upon waking that it was only a dream. In the worlds of Waking, these wondrous things are not acceptable, nor even possible. Lay back and let these dreams consume you for a nightspell. Lose yourself in their warm embrace and in the morning, share them with the ones you crave. But do not, Gentle Dreamer, care for these dreams. For in the end, as beautiful and as arousing as they are, they are all of them doomed.

With lust and love,
Betshebat

The Dreamers’ Masque: Welcome to Eros Park

Prologue

Friday night, and Melissa was trying to drag Samantha off to yet another wild party.

“C’mon, Sam! I promise, this one will be too much.”

Despite herself, Samantha groaned. “You say that about every party, and they’re all the same. Besides, I have a paper to write.”

“You know as well as I do that you could write two thousand words of gibberish for Professor Stoner and he’d give you an ‘A.’ The man can’t see past those full, pouting lips of yours.”

“I still want to earn my grades,” she shot back at her, “and I’m just not in the mood for a loud, drunken, grope-fest.”

“It’s not, I swear. I’ve been going to this thing for three months and it’s the coolest thing ever. Wine and women, only, so no asshole men, and the entertainment is unbelievable!”

Samantha raised a single eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? What?”

Melissa only clamped her lips tight and shook her head, her ponytail whipping around her shoulders. “Mm-mmm! You have to come with to find out.”

Sam watched her grin for a moment. “No men?”

“Not a one,” Mel chimed at her.

“Why would you, of all people, go to a party with no men?”

Melissa only grinned wider and bounced in her seat. Samantha looked down at her stack of books and notes, then back up at Melissa, smiling evilly at her.

“It’s legal, right?”

“Perfectly!” Melissa half shouted, biting her lip.

“No one gets hurt, right?”

“No...”

Samantha groaned, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Yes!” Melissa jumped out of her chair and hugged Sam tight. “I swear, you’ll have the time of your life.”

“I’d better.”

Nine o’clock, they were pulling up in front of an old house a mile from campus. There were lights on and shadows moving on the insides of the curtains, but the music Sam heard was soft jazz, not hard rock, and there was no drunken hooting and no keg out on the porch. The porch was empty, in fact, so Sam thought they were early.

“Nope,” Melissa assured her, “Just a small crowd for this. I practically had to beg to be allowed to bring a friend, tonight.”

“I’m flattered,” Sam told her with all the enthusiasm of a dead vole.

“Oh, come on!” Mel chided her, laughing. “You’ll love it.”

They climbed out of the car and stepped inside. A few women were lounging in the dining room and kitchen, holding wine glasses and chatting idly. There were several bottles of different kinds of wine, lots of grapes, and several different kinds of cheeses and crackers. Sam wondered for a moment if they were all going to talk about Elizabethan poetry all night, but picked a few grapes and poured herself a glass as Melissa walked around saying her hellos.

She was just stepping into the living room to join the others when she heard Melissa’s voice. “What do you mean you’re not going to do it?”

She was casting a thoroughly disappointed look at a woman on the couch who looked exasperated, like she’d been answering this question all night. “I’m just not feeling very well,” she said.

Melissa’s shoulders slumped visibly. “Oh man, I’ve been waiting for this all month!”

“I think she’s just being dramatic,” said another guest – a tall curvy red-head with long wavy locks and freckles all over her face. “She’s just trying to build tension and drama for the scene.”

There were smiles and sounds of agreement all across the room, and the woman spoke more insistently. “No, really guys, I have a fever and using the Gift could make me weak and tired, and if I get delirious, then I could cause some real damage.”

“What are you guys talking about,” Samantha asked, now curious.

The woman turned to look at her. She was tall and slender with olive skin and straight black hair to her waist. Just above the bridge of her nose, between her eyebrows, there was a stylized tattoo of a sunburst.

The woman looked at her for a moment and seemed even more tired. “And you bought someone new. Lovely.”

“You told me I could,” Melissa reminded her.

The woman nodded, her fingertips pressed to her forehead like she had a headache and said, “Yes, yes, I remember now. You just picked a bad time.” She looked back up at Sam and told her, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to seem rude. I really am not feeling well.”

Samantha shrugged. “It’s okay. I mainly just came to get away from the books, you know.”

A slender young Asian girl sitting curled up in the recliner in the corner chirped, “Beth, here, is a goddess.”

“Betshebat!” the slender woman half-barked at the Asian girl, “and I am not a goddess, just... different.” She pulled her knees up to her chest, curling up in her spot on the couch and looked indignant.

The Asian girl smiled at Sam and told her, “Once a month, we get together for the Dreamer’s Masque, which we need her for.” Here, she gestured at Betshebat, who was hanging her head into her knees. “But it looks like she’s not up for it.”

Betshebat mumbled a quick, “Thank you,” under her breath.

“Dreamer’s Masque?” Sam asked, a smile pulling on her lips.

The woman standing next to Betshebat – tall, skinny, with bright blond hair short and wild and bright green eyes – told her, “The easiest way to explain it would be to say that IF Betshebat WERE a goddess, she would be the goddess of dreams. She can make people fall asleep and remold their dreams, cast them into scenes of her choosing, make them seem so much more vivid and real, make them last longer, and even link them together so that we all share one big fantasy.”

Sam looked back at her and then at everyone else, who were all looking at her expectantly. “Bullshit.”

They all broke into grins and some of them giggled. “No, really!” the blond told her.

“It is so cool!” Melissa told her. “It feels so real when it’s happening to you, but it’s a dream, so absolutely anything is possible.”

“Back in July, we did this on a night when it was a hundred degrees,” the red-head told her, “and I got turned into a cherry Popsicle. I don’t know what was more erotic, being impaled bodily on a huge stick by my pussy, or getting licked by every woman in the room.”

“Hey, hey, hey! Let’s not scare her, okay?” Betshebat looked up to see a worried look on Sam’s face. “It’s not always sexual, it’s just...”

“I’m lonely and horny?” the red-head finished.

“Last month, we were all mermaids,” the Asian told her, “swimming around the Great Barrier Reef looking for some lost treasure or another.”

“The month before that,” the blond chimed in, “We were all elves, battling orcs with spells and bows and such.”

Samantha shrugged. “Sounds like fun, but I still think you’re all putting me on.”

She sipped her wine as the blond nodded and told her, “New girls always do.”

Everybody looked at Betshebat expectantly. She looked up at all their faces, then rolled her eyes and groaned. “Okay.”

“Yes!” the red-head exclaimed, setting her drink down and making herself comfortable in the couch. The blond smiled and sat down next to Betshebat, and Melissa pulled Sam down into another recliner before sitting on the floor at Sam’s feet. Everybody shifted about, making themselves comfortable.

“Really, though, guys... I’m feeling kind of off, so I’m feeling kind of grumpy and selfish and actually kind of mean-spirited, and I really am just a little worried that if I open the box right now I might not be able to close it again...”

“Boring...” the red-head chimed. “You’re just trying to scare us. You got some sort of ‘Nightmare on Elm Street’ theme planned for tonight, huh?”

Betshebat shot daggers out of her eyes at the woman and moaned, “Fine,” before waving her hand across the room. Except for her and Sam, everyone in the room fell instantly asleep, their heads lolling off to one side.

Sam felt a moment of fear as it happened. She thought maybe they were all play-acting, but no, they really were asleep. She looked back at Betshebat who looked at her with concern. “Don’t worry,” she told Sam, “I’m really good at this, and yes, I’m in a bad mood, but you’re new and I’ve got nothing against you, so I’ll try to take it easy on you.”

Sam was about to object, to stand and politely excuse herself, but Betshebat waved her hand, and she blinked off into a sound slumber.

To Begin...