The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Zusa’s mocking laughter filled the air as the color drained from Prince James. Blue eyes, rosy cheeks, and blond hair slowly becoming a dull gray. Even his clothes transformed into the color of the sky on a cloudy November day. She stepped forward and traced a finger across the Prince’s face. She felt not warm flesh, but cold stone. Her spell was complete. Prince James was no more. The statue would stand as an eternal warning to those who would dare seek the beautiful Zusa.

The Prince became a quickly receding memory. Zusa couldn’t possibly keep track of all the men she used and discarded over the years. But the documents he signed, those held her interest. She re-read the papers with a bemused satisfaction. The Prince’s final act, perpetrated while under her most powerful mind-control spell, had left her the Kingdom of Sabina and all its treasures.

A nation to loot. An aristocracy to humiliate. A population to corrupt and ruin. Zusa was giddy with delight and anticipation.

For her journey to Sabina, where she would claim her new throne, Zusa dressed in all black—tight leather coat, jodhpurs, boots and a broad-brimmed hat. She rode a prized stallion, a gift from some long-forgotten and besotted admirer, while her imagination worked overtime envisioning all the ways she would use and dominate her new subjects.

Zusa cleared the peaks that were home to her castle by noon on the first day of her journey. She stopped at the river that separated the mountains from the plains. While her black attire was certain of making the heart of any man race, it left her hot and parched. She dismounted, leading the horse to the water. While the stallion drank, she crouched on the bank and filled her canteen.

As Zusa refreshed herself, the unmistakable heaviness of male eyes weighed upon her. She drained the canteen and smiled to herself, conceiving a plan to deal with the lechers gazing at her. She stood and turned.

Two men. Unshaven. Worn clothing. One tall and thin, holding a staff. The other short and stout, a dagger on his belt. The wind carried their stench. They hadn’t bathed in weeks.

The men leered at her. Zusa recognized their lust and desire. In their eyes, she read more: intentions of robbery, violence, forcing themselves on her.

“Good day, fellow travelers.” Zusa removed her hat, shook out her hair, and placed her hands on her hips.

The taller man said, “That looks to be a fine horse. I’ll enjoy riding him. After I’ve ridden you.” He grinned, revealing crooked, broken teeth.

His partner guffawed and licked his lips.

“You don’t wish to hurt me.” Zusa channeled magic into her voice. “You are in awe of me. You’ve never seen such beauty. My skin, hair, eyes. All of me. Impossibly beautiful, beyond your wildest dreams. Yet here I am in the flesh. A fantasy made real.”

She thrust a hip, emphasizing her curves. The men gaped at her, slack jawed, as their minds grew cloudy.

Zusa’s enthralling voice continued to cast its spell. “You want to do as I say. Feel that deep inside you. The need to obey me. The urge to please me. The desire to do as I say overwhelming all other thoughts and emotions.”

The men stood silent, transfixed by her words, voice, and physical perfection. Her enchantment taking hold in their minds. Her voice wiping away their thoughts. Her words becoming their destiny.

“You don’t want to hurt me,” Zusa said. “You want to fight each other.” She shrugged her lovely shoulders. “Who knows? I might even reward the winner with a kiss.”

She laughed and snapped her fingers. The men found they could once again move. They shook their heads and stretched their limbs as if waking from a long slumber.

The two men had been friends for years, served in the army, saved each other’s life on more than one occasion, and for the last three years rode the plains together as outlaws.

None of that mattered now.

In an instant, they had become mortal enemies. Their bond of friendship evaporated with a simple snap of Zusa’s fingers. Fighting each other seemed the most natural idea in the world. Each was nothing more than an obstacle to overcome to gain the favor of this beautiful woman.

The shorter one delivered a right cross to his taller companion, staggering him backward.

The shorter man pressed his assault, delivering a kick that snapped the taller man’s leg with a sickening crack. The taller man struggled to stand and swung his staff, striking his opponent square in the head. The shorter man crumpled to the ground, covering his head with his hands. The taller man, balancing on his one good leg, rained blows upon his former friend, while Zusa observed with detached amusement.

The standing man paused his attack to catch his breath. The man on the ground grabbed his dagger, rose, and thrust the blade into his foe’s abdomen, between the fourth and fifth ribs. Blood spurted from the wound. The man with the staff resumed his attack, striking the other in the chest with full force. The shorter man fell back to the ground. The taller man swung the staff, delivering a mighty blow to the head of his foe. The taller man didn’t pause this time, bashing his helpless opponent over and over, until the man on the ground ceased moving.

“I—I win.” The staff fell from his shaky hand. The death—murder—of his onetime friend was a small price to pay for a kiss from such a beauty. “I—I’ll collect my reward now.”

He took one wobbly step toward Zusa. She smiled with perfect white teeth, while a gentle breeze blew through her blond hair. Another step toward her. His injured leg collapsed, and he tumbled to the ground. Blood leaked from his chest. He squinted. Even with his blurred vision, Zusa’s magnificent beauty was a sight to behold. He felt his body grow cold, and his eyes closed.

Zusa crossed her arms and waited. Neither man moved, nor did they appear to be breathing. After a minute, she approached the taller one and kicked him in the ribs.

No reaction.

Same with the other.

Zusa laughed at this entertaining diversion. She remounted her horse, leaving the two bodies to rot in the sun, to be feasted upon by the vultures and buzzards.

A fitting end for those who would do harm to her.

As the sun set on the third day of her journey, Zusa came upon a crossroads: buildings: inn, stables, a few private homes. The past two nights, she had endured a tent and bedroll. Now she would demand the best room, and the innkeeper would provide it for her. How could he do otherwise?

She dismounted outside the stable. Inside, Zusa found a boy—fifteen or sixteen—attending to the horses.

His eyes widened as she stepped into view. “May I be of service?”

“Yes, you can.” Zusa smiled, flipped her hair, and in her most seductive voice said, “I need my horse, watered, fed, brushed, and boarded.”

“Certainly.” The boy nodded. “Rates for one night ar—” The words caught in his throat as Zusa stepped forward, reached out and ran a finger along the boy’s chest.

“You don’t wish to charge me,” Zusa said, staring into the boy’s eyes.

“There will be no charge.” The lad swallowed hard, his eyes unblinking, fascinated by the deep blue of Zusa’s irises.

“Good boy.” Zusa snapped her fingers. “Attend to my steed.”

He nodded, then raced to retrieve the horse, stealing glances back at her until he exited the stables.

Zusa giggled to herself as she made her way across the road to the inn. Twenty feet from the entrance, a man stepped in her path and blocked the way. He was older, maybe fifty. Balding with a weather-beaten face.

“Pretty neat trick,” the man said.

“What?” Zusa feigned ignorance.

“Taking an advantage of a lad like that. That’s my stable where you left the horse.”

Zusa shrugged. “You can’t blame him for doing a favor for a pretty face.”

The man shook his head. “No, if that’s all I thought it was, I’d teach that whelp a lesson by docking his pay.” He looked Zusa up and down. “There’s something more going on here. Something about you.”

“Is there?” Zusa fiddled with his collar. “Why can’t it be that males, whether men or boys, just want to do as I say?”

Sweat broke out on his forehead. “T—Two silver pieces for boarding your steed.”

“You don’t want me to pay.” Zusa leaned close and whispered in his ear, “You want to pay me.”

“We’ll call it even.” The man’s body shook. “I need to be getting back to the stable.”

“No, I don’t think so.” Zusa’s lips brushed his ear. Her breath hot on his neck. “You want to stay here with me, don’t you?”

His mind was lost, spinning down a whirlpool of desire. “Yes, I want to stay with you.”

Zusa reached into the man’s pocket, pulling out a handful of coins. “And you want me to have these?”

The man licked his lips. “Yes, I want you to have my money.”

Zusa laughed at his weakness. “Is it because I am beautiful? Do you love me?”

“L-Love? I—I—”

She stepped back, looking at him with contempt. “Say the words. Say: I love you, Zusa.”

He was mad for her. Her lips, her voice, her beauty. He could not refuse her command. “I love you, Zusa.”

“Well, that certainly deserves a kiss, don’t you think?” Zusa embraced the man. She nuzzled his neck. She whispered, “Tulla Puuksi.”

Zusa delivered her kiss. Her lips filled with powerful magic, delivering her enchantment to its target.

Despite the tightening in his chest, the man returned the kiss enthusiastically. Zusa broke the embrace and allowed the spell to take hold.

The man gasped for air. His body convulsed in pain, as if every muscle was tearing, every bone breaking. “What is happ—Arrrgh!”

Zusa grinned wickedly. “Did you think my kiss comes without price?”

The man tried to run, but could not lift his feet. His boots split as his toes grew longer, turned brown, and burrowed into the earth. His arms grew long and thin. His abdomen expanded, shredding his clothes. His skin becoming rough and wooden.

Zusa laughed. “It is said that after receiving a kiss from me, a mortal man would die happy. But I’ve chosen a special fate for you. You won’t die. Not yet. You will live for decades as a tree. You coveted me. Now you will serve me.”

Zusa traced a finger along the tree’s bark.

“In the spring, your branches brimming with new green leaves will brighten my day...

“In the summer, you will provide me with shade from the sun’s harshness...

“In the autumn, your colorful leaves will bring pleasure to my eyes...

“And in the dead of winter, you will stand barren and lifeless. A mute testimony to my beauty and power.”

Zusa snapped her fingers. The transformation was complete. In the previously empty space in front of the tavern stood a thirty-foot maple tree. Its branches gently waving in the wind.

Upon close inspection of the pattern of the bark and the knots in the wood, if one squinted just right, it was make out to imagine a human face screaming in terror and pain.

The interior of the inn was dim, barely lit by candles and the setting sun peeking through a pair of windows. Zusa stood at the entrance for a moment, allowing her eyes to adjust. The patrons, both men and women, turned to the door and stared at her. Simply standing there, Zusa’s very presence was enough to silence the room.

Zusa flashed her dazzling smile and took a seat at the nearest empty table. She fiddled with the silver bracelet on her wrist and inspected her nails, ignoring the roomful of people gawking at her. She motioned for the innkeeper.

The man wiped his hands on a rag, emerged from behind the bar, and walked to Zusa’s table.

“You wanted something?” the innkeeper asked.

“Always.” Zusa’s lips curled into a devious smile. “I’ll have your finest room. I only need it for one night.”

The man stiffened. “Rooms are communal.”

“Really?” Zusa pointed across the room at a pair of painted ladies. “Do they provide services in the communal room?”

“No, we have dedicated rooms for that enterprise. Rented by the hour.”

“Hmmm...” Zusa pressed her lips into a thin line. “What about your room? I’m sure it’s the nicest one in the establishment.”

“My room?” the innkeeper sputtered.

“Yes, your room.” Zusa lifted her hand, allowing the sunlight to reflect off her bracelet into the innkeeper’s eyes.

The man squinted to avoid the reflection.

“I know you want me to have the best,” Zusa said. “It’s only natural. And I am so deserving. I’m sure you’ll agree.”

“I—I don’t think t—”

“Of course you don’t think,” Zusa said. “I do the thinking for you.” She continued to reflect the sun in his eyes. “You think I deserve the best room. I do the thinking for you. You think I deserve your room. I do the thinking for you.”

“You do the thinking for me,” the innkeeper said.

“Now, about that room?” Zusa said.

The innkeeper reached into his pocket, pulled out a key, and dropped it on the table. “Top of the stairs. End of the hall.”

Zusa picked up the key and beamed. “Excellent. Bring me a bowl of soup and a pint of ale. Of course, there will be no charge.”

“There will be no charge,” the innkeeper said emotionlessly. He walked back to the kitchen to fetch Zusa’s meal.

Zusa smiled to herself. It had been so long since she had interacted with the general populace. Only the bravest or most foolhardy princes and knights would dare to brave the mountains to reach her castle. She had forgotten how much she enjoyed manipulating the masses. And in a few days, she would have an entire kingdom on their knees.

The innkeeper set the bowl and mug on Zusa’s table. He nodded and backed away, facing her as he returned to the bar.

Zusa took a swig of the ale and swished it around her mouth. Not the best, but at least it was cold. The soup smelled appetizing, some combination of chicken and vegetables. She reached for the spoon, and a woman’s hand clamped on Zusa’s wrist, pinning it to the table.

The woman sneered at Zusa. “Go on and get out of here. You’re wrecking the business for the rest of us.” She was one of the professionals who rented rooms by the hour, sporting unnaturally red hair and a mountain of make-up.

Zusa was amused. “Pardon?”

“You and your fancy clothes and jewelry. It’s bloody overkill. The men aren’t interested in us. You’re costing us money. Now get.”

Zusa laughed. “I assure you. I am no man’s companion or pleasure.”

“Oh, you’re too good for that?” the woman said.

Zusa looked at her, entertained. “I certainly am better, superior to any man or woman in this room or anywhere else.”

“Is that so?” the woman said.

“Yes it is.” Zusa locked her gaze on the woman. “Do you feel the power of my eyes? The power of my voice?”

The woman’s hold on Zusa’s wrist weakened.

“That’s right, the power of my words, my magic, penetrating your mind, subverting your will, making you mine.”

The woman released Zusa’s wrist.

“Not so tough now, are you?” Zusa said. “Not tough, but very weak. Mind so weak. Weak for my words, my control.”

The woman swayed. Her lips trembled.

Zusa pointed to the floor. “I think you’d be more comfortable on your knees, don’t you?”

“Yes,” the woman mumbled. She dropped to her knees.

“Yes, what?” Zusa raised her voice.

“Yes...” the woman struggled for the correct word.

“Yes, Mistress,” Zusa said triumphantly.

“Yes, Mistress,” the woman said.

Zusa laughed. “I’ve had a long journey. My boots are muddy. Clean them.”

The woman started to stand.

“No,” Zusa said sharply. “Keep to your knees.”

The woman obeyed. She crawled across the room and behind the bar. She emerged a minute later pushing a bowl of water, a rag in her hand, making her way on all fours across the floor. She dipped the rag in the bowl, then started cleaning Zusa’s left boot.

After a few minutes, Zusa glanced down at the woman’s efforts. “A fair start. But to really make my boots shine, you’ll need to use your tongue.”

Zusa laughed, and the woman’s body convulsed. The woman’s head trembled as it slowly leaned closer to Zusa’s boot.

“It’s pointless to fight me,” Zusa said. “Try to resist, and you’ll only fall deeper into my control.”

“Deeper into your control...” the woman said in a loud whisper. Her head was inches from Zusa’s boot.

“Come now, slave girl, get that tongue out and shine my boots. You know you want to. You know you need to.”

“I n—need to...” the woman gasped. She stuck out her tongue and licked the grime off Zusa’s right boot. First haltingly, then with enthusiasm.

Zusa finished her soup and ale, occasionally erupting in laughter while watching the woman. “Don’t forget the soles.” Zusa thrust the bottom of her boot in the woman’s face.

The woman obeyed instantly, her will completely subverted by Zusa’s magic. She was now nothing more than an empty vessel for Zusa’s commands. Her tongue becoming raw and sore as she attacked the grit and caked mud on Zusa’s boots. Nevertheless, she persisted.

The day’s long ride had tired Zusa, and she looked forward to sleeping in the innkeeper’s bed. She grabbed the key and stood, not realizing or caring that she stepped on the woman’s tongue.

“Ow! Stop!” the woman yelped in pain.

“Stop?” Zusa said. “Did you just tell me what to do?”

The woman, still on all fours, lowered her head and cowered before Zusa. “Yes, Mistress. I mean: No, Mistress. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. It was a reaction to the pain.”

“Reaction?” Zusa’s lips curled into a smile. “I would think you’d react more positively. You should be grateful for whatever stimulus I provide.”

“Yes, Mistress. That is what I meant. I’m grateful.”

“Good!” Zusa stepped on the woman’s hand, grinding the heel of the boot. “Show me your gratitude again. Thank me for the pain.”

“T—Thank you, Mistress,” the woman said through gritted teeth. “It is an honor to be on the receiving end of whatever you have in store for me.”

“Indeed?” Zusa arched an eyebrow. “Perhaps I’m not as tired as I thought. Follow me to my room, and we’ll explore just how deep your gratitude can run.”

Zusa awoke refreshed the next morning. The painted woman, Zusa’s newest slave, slept at the foot of the innkeeper’s bed, like a loyal pet. Downstairs, Zusa grabbed a quick breakfast, no charge naturally, then went to the stable to retrieve her horse.

The lad was there, still gawking at Zusa, unable to hide his appreciation for her beauty. He nodded. “Good morning, Ma’am.”

For half a second, Zusa thought about punishing him for the use of such an unbecoming title, then reconsidered. The boy meant well. He lacked proper instruction.

“You shall address me as Goddess, Mistress, or Queen,” Zusa said.

The boy bent his head, dropped to one knee. “Yes, My Queen.”

“Good boy,” Zusa said. “Your employer won’t be returning. You shall run this stable from now on.”

“My Queen?” The boy looked up, confusion on his face.

“Yes, it’s all yours. Take enough from the profits to live a Spartan life. All other monies are to be re-invested in the operation or set aside for me.” Zusa was a Queen now. She wouldn’t need the money. She doubted if she would ever pass by this crossroads to collect what was due her. But she wanted to emphasize the point that the money was hers, and the boy should lead a life of deprivation as a symbol of his devotion to her.

“Yes, My Queen, I understand,” the boy said.

“Very well. Rise and retrieve my horse.”

Zusa rode five days across the plains until she reached the border of Sabina. Clearing customs proved uneventful. A couple of breathy whispers in the ear of a border guard ensured her entry to the country. Another day’s ride brought her to Runnemede, the capital city of Sabina. As she approached the South Gate, a line of citizens attempting to enter the city stretched and wound its way into the countryside. The wait would take hours. And Zusa never waited.

As Zusa maneuvered her horse past the procession, angry men and women shouted for her to take her place at the rear. She turned her head, focusing her gaze on the mob. Just a glimpse of her fair skin, icy blue eyes, and impossibly red lips silenced the naysayers. They were now under her spell. Zusa rode to the gate, where four men in military uniform blocked the entrance to the city.

“Back of the line,” the man in charge said. A captain by the bars on his collar.

Zusa dismounted. She locked her gaze on the Captain, focusing all her magical energy on him. “Is that any way to greet Zusa, your new Queen?”

The Captain sneered. “Get back and wait your turn, I said! Or shall I run you in for impersonating a royal?”

Zusa was surprised at his ability to resist her. Elevating her assault on his mind and will, she sauntered toward the Captain, hips rocking, and removed her hat, letting her hair blow in the breeze. The three other guards watched with open mouths. The line of waiting citizens also watched Zusa in awe.

But the Captain frowned, staring at Zusa, clearly attracted to her, but not ogling her like the rest of his men. He still had yet to fall under her enchantment.

“Take care, my dear Captain,” Zusa said. “Or my first royal act as Queen will be to have thrown in the low dungeon, letting you rot for months, then hang you before the cheering masses.”

Zusa raised her hand, and the line of people chanted, “Hang him! Hang him!”

A look of concern spread across the Captain’s face. The realization that he was alone. But he hadn’t risen to this rank by running away. “There is no new Queen. Even now, Prince James scours the continent searching for a bride worthy of him and Sabina.”

Zusa placed her hands on her hips. “Trust me. I am more than worthy.”

“Allow her in!” the crowd chanted. “Let in Queen Zusa.”

The second-in-command, a lieutenant, said, “Sir, we should accompany her to the castle. Present her to the ministers.”

The other two guards nodded their agreement.

“Have you all gone daft?” the Captain said.

At that moment, Zusa saw what the problem was. On the Captain’s chest, mixed in amongst the shiny medals, was a purple charm. Zusa deduced it was warding off her spell. But she didn’t need magic to get what she wanted. Her incomparable beauty and hypnotic voice would do the trick. Even without magic, she could bend any man’s will, persuade him to do whatever she wanted. All she needed to do was get closer.

She approached the Captain. In her slinkiest voice she said, “Captain, the Prince found his Queen to be. Unfortunately, he didn’t survive the journey back.” Zusa faked sorrow, fighting the urge to smile at the Prince’s fate. “I have the documents he signed in my saddle bags.” She reached out and ran a finger across his chest. “I am to be Queen, but with the Prince dead, I have no consort. I require a brave and handsome man at my side.” She leaned close and whispered in his ear. “Can you imagine the pleasures we will have?”

The Captain’s face burned as red as his tunic. His body shook. He summoned every last shred of willpower to resist Zusa’s physical charms. “This is not a ma—”

“Oops!” Zusa tore the charm from his chest and tossed it on the ground.

“What are you doing? Th—” No longer under the protection of the charm, the full force of Zusa’s spell crushed the Captain’s will. He dropped to his knees. Looking up with love and desire in his eyes, the Captain said, “How may I serve you, My Queen?”

Wyatt swept dust from his stall into the street. The next performance of his puppet show was in fifteen minutes. But so far, no child had bought a ticket. It might be time to retire the act. It might be time to retire for good. An ignoble end for a man who once wielded such great power.

Out of the corner of his eye, Wyatt spotted the red uniforms marching in his direction.

Were they going to roust him again? Demand a bribe not to shut down his performance?

Another of the growing reasons to give up and move on.

But the men didn’t approach his stall. They marched by in unison. Four of them, staring straight ahead, unblinking, heading toward the city center. They were escorting someone, surrounding their charge on all sides. One man stumbled, and Wyatt caught a glimpse of blond hair.

Blond hair like spun gold.

Could it be?

After all these years?

Could it be her?

The man regained his balance, blocking Wyatt’s view of whom they were escorting.

Wyatt followed, rushing along the street as fast as his creaky knees would take him. He was fast becoming winded, but he need to see, needed to be sure. He pushed himself to the limit, now a few paces behind the entourage.

The men reached an intersection. As they turned onto a street that lead toward the castle, the figure they surrounded became visible again.

One look at her face, and Wyatt was sure.

Even after all these years, she had not aged a day.

“Zusa,” he muttered, fighting the urge to fall to his knees, a stabbing pain in his heart. After all this time, her spell was as powerful as ever. If Wyatt was to have his revenge on Zusa, he was going to have to be clever about it.