The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

John woke up with a start, the sheets damp from perspiration around him. He took a few deep breaths and tried to focus on his surroundings, calming himself.

“Damn,” he muttered. This was the third night in a row that he’d had that fucking weird-ass dream. There was always the same woman in it...this stunning woman. Small, flaming red hair, sexy as hell...should have been his wet dream. He shifted, suddenly aware of the almost painful erection he had, much more intense than his normal “morning wood”. Maybe she was his wet dream, after all. Then why was he always terrified?

It should have been so erotic. He paused for a moment and then admitted that the dreams were erotic, but he still found them terrifying. This woman was always having sex with someone, and John stood by and simply watched. It was so weird; ordinarily he was the main participant whenever he had erotic dreams instead of some kinky voyeur.

The people the woman had sex with were different each night, sometimes men and sometimes women. Last night, he remembered, it had been an attractive blonde girl—probably a co-ed from some university, maybe a sorority girl, considering what she was wearing. She had still had that smooth, youthful skin, and a beautiful, innocent face. As if she were the last truly good person in this world.

John tossed the covers off and swung his legs to the floor, sitting on the side of his bed. Again he was aware of his erection; he trailed his hand gently across the fabric of his pajamas stretched tightly over his member, inhaling as his cock amplified that simple touch ten-fold and sent those sensations back to his brain. He shook his head and stood, heading for the bathroom.

In his dream, the blonde had been lying on a large bed. Her long ringlets were softly splayed out on her pillow. She had been wearing a rose-coloured negligee, one of the ones that was so simple that it had to have cost big money. The delicate fabric was thin enough that you could see straight through it, exposing every curve of her body, the sculpted lines defining her tight midriff, even the sparkle from the gem that glittered from her navel piercing. You could see everything except what you most wanted, of course. The negligee was held up by two spaghetti straps over her shoulders, the fabric spilling down over her breasts in cascading waves. The fabric drooped so that it exposed the swell of her pert breasts, but gathered enough layers just below so that her nipples were completely hidden behind the gossamer shroud. Just as teasingly, the negligee would have allowed a clear view of the girl’s sex, except for the white french-cut bikini briefs, that seemed to ride impossibly low over her hips but still hid her treasure.

John had watched the woman sleep: her breasts shifting slightly with each deep breath; the gentle, fluid motions as she stretched or shifted slightly. It was a peaceful, serene vision, somehow having a purity that in no way detracted from its sexiness. He had felt love for this girl, entranced by her light and her innocence, had wanted to protect her from all harms.

Then he had felt a change, even before he had seen anything. John had been afraid, felt a primal desire to flee building within him. But he could not flee, he could only observe as the woman had emerged from the vague dream-mist that always surrounds such visions.

Whereas the girl had a pure innocence about her, this woman radiated nothing but power and sexual hunger. Thick red hair the colour of passion spilled down to the middle of he back, while her eyes burned to match as she surveyed her prey. Last night the woman had worn an ebony silk corset top, held tight against her figure by leather lacings. Her breasts spilled out of the top, straining against the soft material that barely held them trapped beneath. A matching set of underwear rode deliciously across her hips, from which endless legs extended down to the earth. Her outfit was covered by a lace brocade, and she wore glove made of the same brocade over her hands: frilly at the wrists from extra lace, the gloves clung to her hands like passing shadow until half-way up her fingers, where they stopped and allowed elegantly long and exquisitely shaped nails, painted the exact shade of her hair, to pierce forth.

The woman stood at the foot of the bed, a wicked smile playing across her lips. John had feared for the girl, had wanted to call out to her. The girl had sighed and stretched, the thin fabric of her negligee sliding over her body as if caressing it, and John thought she might awake and realize her danger. But the girl had settled after a moment, and the redhead’s predatory grin slowly grew wider.

Then the woman had lifted one lovely leg and crawled onto the bed. She slowly forward, moving in a way that somehow reminded John of a slithering snake. The woman’s body brushed against that of the sleeping girl, eliciting a soft unconscious moan as the blonde shifted again, for a moment pressing their bodies more firmly against each other.

The woman stopped as her head came even with that of her sleeping prey. She looked closely at the girl, as if the woman could see deeply into the blonde’s eyes, as if the closed lids offered no protection from the redhead’s devouring gaze. The redhead squirmed, her hips rocking back in such a way that declared there was only one thing on her mind, a need that was the equal of her obvious hunger. Then, slowly, the redhead’s tongue reached out and gently slid across the girl’s lips.

The soft blonde ringlets seemed to float around the girl in a golden cloud as she moved her head up slightly, her lips parting to allow better access, as she sought after that fleeting sensation. The woman watched her with satisfaction as the girl unknowingly reached toward her, the blonde’s head almost coming off the pillow as she quested for what had caused that brief pleasure.

Then the seductress had bent her head down, and John had just a brief instant to witness her tongue slowly reach out and slide tightly against the barely parted lips, penetrating into the girls warm, moist mouth, before both women’s faces were hidden as that crimson hair drifted down in a soft obscuring veil. A crimson veil that mingled with the cloud of blonde ringlets, as if the blood of the girl’s pierced and lost maidenhood was trickling down to tarnish and stain that golden halo. One scarlet-taloned hand reached up and kneaded a rose-covered breast, and the silent scene was broken as the girl moaned around the invading tongue exploring her mouth...a lewd, degraded sound that seemed improper coming from the beautiful, innocent angel John had wanted to protect just moments before.

The woman pressed her hips down, grinding her sex against the blonde’s thigh. Red hair shimmered, intertwining even more with blonde curls as their kiss continued and deepened. One elegant fingernail pressed through the crepe fabric to circle around a swollen, erect nipple, causing the girl’s entire chest to lift up, begging for more. John was powerless to do anything except witness the continuing corruption of this young girl.

Finally the redheaded woman broke their kiss and pushed onto her hands and knees. As the woman’s tongue slowly withdrew, a soft, satisfied sigh escaped from the girl, and the ghost of a smile played across her lips. The redhead gazed down in satisfaction, surveying the lithe, supple body beneath her. Then the woman started to slowly move down towards the foot of the bed, leaving a trail of gentle kisses and caresses on the girl’s body as she did. The seductress paused to let her tongue twirl around one nipple, searching it out through the ripples of fabric and teasing it through the soft cloth that covered it. As the woman continued her trip down the girl’s body, the red nails of one gloved hand reached out until the very tips touched the girls inner thigh, then scratched their way up her leg, gathering the gossamer fabric and exposing the creamy flesh beneath. Those crimson nails came within a breath of touching the girl’s aching sex as the woman continued to pull the negligee up, until finally the blonde’s abdomen was fully exposed.

The seductress spent a moment to tongue and play with the small diamond-topped barbell that pierced her prey’s navel. Then the woman kissed and licked her way down the sinuous line where the girl’s abs and obliques met, then ran her tongue along one hip bone. The red claws now also slid feather-light down the girl’s midriff and below, hooking underneath the thin straps that held the satin bikini briefs in place. The nails dug into the girl’s flesh at this point, leaving tiny red trails against the soft white skin as the panties were slid slowly down, robbing the girl of her only protection against this cruel predator. Yet the innocent, sleeping face seemed blissfully unconcerned, even as her body moved languidly in response to the sensations arousing it. The girl’s eyes moved rapidly beneath the heavy lids covering them, and John could only guess what sort of dreams the redhead’s ministrations would elicit from the blonde’s psyche.

The underwear slid down the girl’s smooth legs, then at some point simply disappeared as such forgotten and useless things do in dreams. Revealed to the redhead’s devouring gaze was a small, neatly trimmed patch of hair crowning a set of nether lips already swollen and dark with trapped blood, and damp with tiny drops of fragrant nectar. That evil, leering smirk spread across the seductress’s face as she tortured herself with one final moment of anticipation before she completed her conquest.

The redhead reached up and gathered her long hair in one gloved hand, her fingers wrapping deeply into the thick tresses and holding the strands tight against her head. She then lowered herself down towards the girl’s sex, inhaling deeply. The seductress opened her mouth, her tongue preparing to snake out and taste this rare treat, but paused. John watched as the blonde girl’s breath caught, somehow anticipating the imminent contact. The girl lifted her hips, presenting herself to her assaultress, limbs writhing in unconscious anticipation—yet moving as if invisible restraints bound both wrists and ankles immobile to the sheet beneath them.

A sadistic smile played across the dominant woman’s face at this luscious sight. The woman released her hair, which cascaded in tickling waves across the girl’s abdomen and legs, spreading like a crimson stain across her, as the seductress’s tongue at last reached out to caress the girl’s deprived snatch.

A deep, guttural groan was torn from the girl’s throat, the wanton lust filling that sound once again at complete odds with the angelic visage from which it emanated. The girl’s face lost it’s serene quality, contorting slightly almost as if in pain...but obviously caused by a different sensation entirely. Still those sleeping eyes did not flutter or stir, the moans and movements of her body unable to connect with her conscious mind. The part of her mind that might be able to save her from this rape. The part of her mind that was most at risk from this predator.

The seductress’s tongue pushed deeper, probing through the velvety layers of damp flesh, exploring every crease and fold as it searched for the girl’s most treasured and sensitive jewel. Lace-covered hands circled under the girl’s legs as ruby nails bit deep into the creamy flesh of the girl’s ass, and the seductress pulled her victim closer as her tongue made one slow, long stroke over her victim’s clitoris.

The girl moaned again, louder, throatier, more desperate, more depraved. John watched as his angel’s face changed, could hear the change distinctly in those moans, could feel the change as he continued his helpless vigil. The innocent expression the sleeping girl had had was being perverted before his eyes. The restful virtue that had once graced her expression slowly vanished as the blonde developed her own look of yearning hunger. Her lips parted, as if she wished to wrap them around something, to suck and devour something of her own. The sounds the girl made became increasingly animalistic, more primal and basic and sultry. John wanted to cry out as this angel was being slowly destroyed and replaced with...something else.

The seductress took her time, allowing the changes worked their way through her victim, remaking and reinventing the girl. Long, slow strokes of the redhead’s tongue were interrupted by quick teasing flicks, always just enough variation to keep the girl constantly on edge, never quite sure what to expect next.

The time in his dream had stretched and warped, and John felt as if he watched this tragic scene for an eternity. But at last the redhead’s exquisite tonguing began to crescendo within her victim’s body. The blonde’s hips rocked unwittingly against the other woman, increasing the pressure on the girl’s clit. The isolated moans became a constant, desperate drone as the girl’s chest flushed a much deeper shade than the rose-coloured fabric that covered it.

Then, at last, the expression of lustful abandonment changed and broke for an instant. The girl’s eyes tensed, trying to open as the last vestiges of her innocence struggled against the dark forces assaulting her, swelling within her like a rising tide. Her voice changed to a pleading whimper as she struggled desperately towards consciousness, reaching one hand weakly down to try and stop the woman pleasuring her.

The seductress did not even pause, but simply batted away the impotent gesture with one gloved hand. Strong, crimson-tipped fingers wrapped tightly around the girl’s wrist and pinned it to the bed, as the painted nails of the other hand bit even deeper into the blonde’s ass, pulling her even closer for a particularly rapacious lick, the tip of her pointed tongue caressing every point of the girl’s clitoris. Those bloody nails trailed lightly across the flesh of the girl’s rump until the seductress found the blonde’s asshole, pressing against it with the pad of her thumb until her digit just separated the tight sphincter.

The girl released one more quivering whimper before the combined onslaught of sensations, and then finally gave in completely to the pleasure her conqueress bestowed upon her. John nearly wept as that last glimmer of innocence was consumed by the dark, angry lust that filled the girl. Her conscious mind withdrew—or was lost altogether—and the skin around her eyes smoothed as her lips twisted into a now familiar feral snarl, passion and hunger the only emotions evident upon her beautiful face. Deep, panting gasps rose from deep within her chests as her comatose body reflexively ground her hips in desperation against the face and tongue of the devourer, and John could feel the last of his angel’s purity ripped from her body.

The girl’s climax was announced with one savage cry, filled with painful pleasure beyond imagining. Her body shuddered as the power of her orgasm obliterated all traces of self from his angel’s mind, leaving only that beautiful body now defiled and possessed by something else entirely. Still the redheaded demoness carefully stimulated her prey, strengthening and milking the orgasm that continued to crash through the blonde’s body, ensuring that there could be no return from this experience.

Minutes, hours later, the blonde’s spasms slowly subsided, and her body relaxed with exhaustion. The seductress raised her head from between the girl’s legs with one final kiss, and surveyed her triumph from behind strands of blood red hair. The sheet beneath the girl was twisted and rumpled. The thin fabric of the negligee was plastered against the blonde’s sweat-soaked body, but now covered almost nothing; the nightgown was pushed up to reveal both sex and stomach, and during her writhings one of the spaghetti straps had slipped over the girl’s shoulder, allowing her left breast to free itself from its covering. Her hair was also damp with sweat, the tight ringlets glued to her face and shoulders, the golden halo it had once been now broken and darkened from her exertions. A look of pleasure lay on the girl’s face, but it was a greedy, malicious pleasure, as if it only sought to replicate itself over and over again, or force itself unwanted onto another.

Eyelids fluttered, and at last the girl’s blue eyes were uncovered. They found the dark eyes of her mistress, who sneered in triumph and stretched out one lace-gloved hand invitingly. The girl obediently placed her hand into that of her rapist’s, and then in one languid motion sat up. The two females observed each other, almost as if communicating between themselves without words. Then the blonde reached out, wrapping her arms around her conqueress, feeling the soft scratch of the brocaded corset against the flesh of her inner arms as she pulled the redhead close, crushing their breasts against each other’s, kissing her mistress deeply. In thanks. In supplication. In devout worship.

Then both women turned to stare at John. He looked into his lost angel’s eyes, and had found them clouded and half-closed, as if the beautiful young girl had still not awoken from her slumber but would now sleepwalk her way through the rest of eternity. He looked deeper, searching for a trace of the goodness he had seen within her before, gazing through the windows to her soul and saw...nothing. There was only darkness behind those vacant, sleepy eyes, a darkness saturated with lust and hunger.

John moved his gaze fearfully towards the redhead, who only sneered gluttonously at him. John tried to cower from her cold stare, but instead felt himself being drawn towards her, felt himself sinking into those burning eyes. The blonde smiled in wicked delight at his terror. Then the redhead’s lips moved and she spoke for the first time in a sultry, smoky voice that seemed to be the very essence of sexuality.

You’re next.

John burst into his bathroom, his breathing coming in ragged gasps. He fumbled with the faucet on his sink, splashing the cold water that ushered forth onto his face. A moment later he rose and looked at himself in the mirror, the icy water dribbling down his chest. He looked like absolute hell. He leaned over to splash one more handful of water across his cheeks, then turned the faucet off. He grimaced slightly, aware of his still painfully erect cock and aching balls.

He tried to take a piss, but couldn’t due to his stiffy. It was probably just as well; he would have just sprayed urine everywhere on his present state. How stupid, he thought. Two beautiful women fucking each other was every man’s dream, not a nightmare! And if it had terrified him that much, why was he so rock-solid aroused?

He took a couple of deep breaths and tried to will himself down, but his cock simply throbbed with need. “Damn it, fine!” he muttered at last. He reached into the closet and pulled out a bottle of lotion. There was one surefire way to get rid of this erection, and then he could get on with his day.

John sat down on the toilet and squeezed a generous amount of lotion into his hand. He applied the cool white cream to his shaft and over his scrotum, gently massaging each swollen testicle. The caress felt good, easing some of the demanding ache. Part of his mind warned him not to do this, that this was somehow dangerous. Left over Catholic guilt from a childhood indoctrinated by religious schools, John declared to himself. He closed his eyes as he leaned back against the cold porcelain tank of the toilet, and found the image of that beautiful, sexy redhead filling his mind. Fear subsiding as his gentle stroking began to fire his own passions, John decided it was a shame that she was only a dream. If he ever met her, John knew he could show her who was boss. He imagined grabbing her by the hair and forcing her down, bending her over until she knelt on all fours. His hand slid over the slick shaft of his lubed cock as he imagined how he would parade around her, watching her grovel before him. In his imagination, she smiled up at him, obviously enjoying his power over her, John thought. She bent her torso closer to the ground, raising her hips into the air and shaking them enticingly.

John grinned. Yes, that is how she would act. She would welcome him, and he would take her. He was the man, she nothing more than his bitch. He imagined walking around behind her, then gently sinking to his knees.

Part of his mind screamed for him to stop, but he shoved those thoughts aside. Yes, if she were real she would beg him to use her. He made a circle of his thumb and index finger, placing it at the very tip of his cock as he imagined placing the head of his dick at the hot, wet entrance of her sex. He would reach out and grasp her hips as she looked back at him, her blood red hair spilling over one shoulder, as she silently urged him on. His hand slid slowly down his cock, forcing his slick penis through the tight ring of his fingers, as he imagined forcing himself into her tight cunt. He imagined her, looking triumphant...no, it must be a look of satisfied bliss as his thick cock filled her. John felt his balls contract as his orgasm drew rapidly closer. He repeated the same motion with his hand, sighing softly as his dick squeezed through the tight enclosure of his hand.

Then he began to pump up and down, much harder than he normally did when masturbating. John imagining how she would rock back against him, grinding her hips against the base of his cock with every powerful thrust. The fingers of his left hand trailed gently over his balls as he gripped and massaged his dick, bringing him closer and closer to release. Yes, she would look back at him, deeply into his eyes as he pounded into her. And she would smile at the way he pleased her, that sexy, predatory smile. His breath started coming in ragged gasps as his hand moved rapidly across his shaft, on the verge of cumming. She would open her mouth, and issue forth the first sound she had made since he proved his power. He imagined her tongue licking her lips, and then her voice, the sound of it the very essence of sex...yes, as his fist hammered over his throbbing cock, he imagined her saying with satisfaction...

You’re next.

His eyes flew open in fear as he orgasmed powerfully, thick white cum shooting out and dribbling in viscous, pale rivulets over his clenched fist.