The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Prelude

The house smelled of staleness and rot, something that was now associated with its owner, the former Augustus Everett Anderson. He had been dead now a good three months, and his family had finally decided it was time for his belongings to be disposed of. But what Mark had done to deserve the punishment of cleaning out the old man’s basement, he’d yet to determine. The leaks in the walls of the cement room had made the whole place damp, and mildew seemed to grow on every surface. For this reason Mark, had decided to classify most of the room’s contents as garbage, and had spent most of the day stuffing things into large plastic bags. All that was left now was the small desk that resided in the corner of the room, which his great Uncle had supposedly referred to as his “study”.

Mark had known little about the old man. He had met him only once, when he was twelve and his family had visited this same home. It had been different then, still run down, but lacking the feeling of decay it seemed to possess now. Mark had found the visit a strange one, for he knew all of his extended family had shunned Uncle Everett and up until that moment, so had his parents. But for whatever reason, they had all made the trip up to Hob’s Summit, where his uncle’s estate looked out over Ellsmout. While Mark and his brother and sisters had played for hours in the big old house, he could only remember that the visit had ended badly. He couldn’t quite remember the details of what had happened; only that his uncle had infuriated his parents, and Mark and his sisters were forced to endure rather boring therapist visits in the years that followed.

But that was then and this was now, and in the intervening five years Mark had never seen him again. Now the whole family was back again, to do what they could to put the house in order before it was sold. They had been surprised to find that the old man had left the home to Mark, and were hoping to sell it as soon as they could. And so here he was, dumping stacks of half rotted newspapers into garbage bags as fast as he could.

As Mark finished cleaning up the top of the desk, he began rifling the drawers, looking for anything worth saving. Most held more newspaper clippings and notes written in handwriting so poor he couldn’t make out a word. But in the bottom drawer was something unusual. A box made of a dark wood, nearly black in color. Its surface was carved in n intricate series of vines, or tentacles if someone with an overactive imagination were to look at it while squinting. Mark found the whole thing rather unpleasant, and preferred not to look at it at all. But his attention was immediately drawn to the large iron lock that held it closed. Reaching into his pocket, he quickly located and withdrew a battered skeleton key, its dark and rusted surface perfectly matching the condition of the lock. He’d had the key for years, though he couldn’t remember where he had come across it. When he was younger it had factored into many of his day dreams, sometimes as a key to a pirates chest, or to open a door to the secret passages he always wished his house contained.

Why he brought him with it today he didn’t know, it had been years since he had last played with it. But here it was, being inserted into a strange lock on an even stranger box. The lock produced only the slightest of clicks when he turned it, but it sprang open with a considerable amount of life. Mark hesitated as he removed it, and placed his hand on the boxes lid. All number of doubts seems to spring to mind once he had touched it. But his curiosity got the best of him. He cautiously opened the lid and peered inside, hoping for some fabulous treasure that he could claim as his own. Surprisingly, inside was a simple package, wrapped in brown paper and twine, bearing an envelope tucked between the two. Although not the treasure he had hoped for, his curiosity was still piqued, and he quickly removed the envelope and tore it open to inspect its contents. Inside was a note, that read; “Mark. May this knowledge of my past lead to our future”. The sentence was followed by a strange symbol, which looked like the letters V and U from some angles, and something more unpleasant from others. It gave Mark a headache just to look at it. Putting the note aside, he took out package. It was surprisingly heavy for its size, and its weight seemed to wear on Mark as soon as he picked it up. He slipped off the twine easily and tore off the wrapping.

In his hands was a book. Its cover was black leather, worn, but intact. Embossed upon it was a title that Mark could not read, and a symbol that seemed to blur when he looked at it. Although his headache had grown worse at the mere sight of the cover, Mark found that he could not help but open the book to its first page. What he found there was something most dark and terrifying, and the scream that issued from his mouth was one of pure horror. As he fell into darkness, he could not help but wonder what he had done that God would abandon him so.

When Mark’s family left the house a few hours later, all were in great spirits. Marks sister, Allison, was still laughing at how he had screamed so loudly over one little rat he had found in the basement. His parents seemed to be in a good mood, discussing some paintings his sister Cristina had found in the attic, and how one would be just perfect for her room. And Mark had a smile he couldn’t keep from his face, one that grew as his grip tightened on the small brown package, wrapped in twine. A few old comics he had said, wrapped in paper and shoved in the bottom of a drawer. Nothing important…

Chapter 1 – Bindings

Mark stared intently at the page before him, watching as the letters and symbols seemed to swim before his eyes. Learning to read the shifting text had proven difficult, and it had taken him a month to read the first chapter It didn’t help that his sisters were constantly pestering him the whole time. He used to find their bothering him to be a fun way to pass the time, but lately they were just a pain. On the plus side, they were pleasant to look at, something Mark had never noticed before.

Allison had turned 18 the month before, and her body seemed to finally catch up to her age. The flat chested 17 year old was now stacked, 36C from the bras he had been finding in his laundry. She was also taller now, standing an inch shy of Mark’s 6 foot frame. It seemed like it happened overnight, as Mark never really noticed her until the last few weeks. Now when he would pass her in the hall it was all he could do not to stare at her in tank tops and boy shorts that were still meant for her smaller frame.

His younger sister, Cristina, was less of a distraction. She was a year younger then Mark, and at 16, she wasn’t quite a woman yet. However, she made up for this by flaunting what she did have whenever Mark was around, or at least it seemed that way now. There was noting like having your sister come bouncing into your room in a bra and panties cause she wanted to borrow some socks. Christi had never been a shy girl, but she didn’t seem to realize she wasn’t 12 anymore.

As his mind drifted to his sisters, he couldn’t help begin to imagine what it would be like if they wore even less around the house. Even if she was his sister, Mark was dying to see a pair of tits up close, and Allison’s put most others to shame. As these images ran through his head, he noticed the page in the book had suddenly sprung into sharp focus. The diagrams he had been trying so hard study was now clear and precise, the final piece of the chapter finally in place. Looking closer he could see the specifics for the binding ritual scrawled along the edges of the diagram. This was it, all he needed to make it work!

Within seconds Mark was up out of his seat and gathering what he needed. The Binding spell was an easy one once the steps were spelled out and the components gathered. A drop of blood from the binder, a sample of the bound, such as blood or hair, and small mix of herbs was all it took. Fortunately, Mark had been hunting down the herbs for last week, having discovered their use earlier in the chapter. Blood he could provide, all he needed was a sample from someone and he was ready to try it out. He could at least get his own blood sample while he decided who to test the spell on. Hiding the book in his closet, Mark made his way to the shared bathroom on the second floor, where he was hoping there was something sanitary he could use to draw blood.

The hallway outside his room was deserted, and not looking to have his experiments interrupted, he made a quick dash for the bathroom. The door was open just a hair, so he honestly didn’t see that the light was on inside before he pushed it open. He was shocked to find the room already occupied, with his sister Allison in the process of contorting her body to get a look at what looked to be a tattoo of a heart on the small of her back. This process seemed to require she be wearing just a thong, and Mark couldn’t help but noticed the way she was arching her back made her tits look even bigger. It was an incredible view, but sadly it only lasted a second before his mortified sister let out a screech and dove for her clothes.

“Mark! Get out of here you perv! I’m telling mom and dad.”

Mark froze. He didn’t want his parents hassling him right when he was about to need privacy to finish his spell.

“Was that a tattoo I saw? I thought Mom and Dad said no tattoo’s until you were in college?”

“That’s what Dad said…”

“So are you going to tell him you got one anyway?

“No! And neither are you.

“Fine, I won’t tell Dad, and you wont tell him that you were too stupid to remember to lock the door before showing it off in your underwear.”

Mark’s sister gave him a look, realizing that she was trapped. She had no way of getting him in trouble without Mark ratting on her.

“Fine”, she said, pushing past him into the hallway. “perv”, she muttered as she flounced back to her bedroom.

Mark took a deep breath, glad that was over with, and stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Finally alone, he quickly set to work gathering what he needed. A nail care kit provided him with a small pair of scissors that looked sharp enough to cut though skin. An empty makeup jar, quickly washed in the sink, would do for gathering the blood. Making sure the door was securely locked (unlike his sister) he made sure his tools were carefully laid out, along with some gauze and band aids, in case things didn’t go according to plan. Then, before he could talk himself out of it, he got to work. He quickly pulled off his jeans and underwear, leaving him naked from the waist down. Looking down at his dick, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for it given what he was about to do. The book stated the blood had to come from his erect penis, or else it would be impure. Feeling a bit foolish, he began to picture Stacy Brickton, his sister’s best friend.

Stacy was the same age as Allie, and just as hot. She was a little shorter then Mark, and pretty thin, which made her normal sized boobs look huge on her. She has Long, bleached blond hair that she had once complained to Allie she hated, cause boys would grab it by the handful when she was giving them head and try to make her deep throat them. She tended to wear skimpy outfits Mark’s mom would never let his sister’s wear. Last week she had come over in a halter top and a pair of jeans that had holes in all the right places. Picturing her now, Mark imagined her kneeling in front of him, jerking him off with her hand. But as he concentrated more on his fantasy, his perfect image of her kept slipping from his mind, replaced with an image of Allie, still wearing her thong and nothing else. It didn’t seem right, but he just couldn’t help himself. He imagined his sister smiling up at him as she took his cock deep in her mouth, working it’s full length in and out of her throat. Her auburn hair bounced back and forth as her as her head worked up and down in an impossibly fast rhythm. Mark grabbed her hair, and like Stacy had described, forced her head slowly down his member until her lips reached the base of his cock. She looked up as he held her face there, still feeling an incredible suction from her mouth. She tried to say something, but with his cock so far down her throat, he couldn’t understand her. Slowly he pulled her head up, a thick strand of saliva coating his dick as she withdrew. She looked up at him, her eyes seemed desperate, needy.

“Cum on my face Mark”

That was all it took, for Mark to lose control, and with a grunt, cum rocketed out and struck Allison in the face. Strand after strand covered her delicate features as she let out a deep moan. The room seemed to grow dim and Mark nearly blacked out as his fantasy came to an end. Although disoriented by the climax, and disturbed by the fantasy that had gotten him off, he realized he had forgotten his mission. Fortunately he was still hard, despite having made a huge mess of the bathroom. With time of the essence, he grabbed the nail scissors and caught a small bit skin between their blades. He looked down at his dick, focusing on the small patch of skin jutting out from between the scissor blades.

“In’dwatha krimmor shedae. Infferi Sanguinos Escrya.”

With that he clamped down on the scissors and felt a sudden rush of pain as they sliced through the tender skin of his penis. The blood flowed freely, and he was quick to catch it in the jar. After a few minutes of watching the jar fill from an ever slowing flow of blood, he capped it and put it aside. Looking at the small wound on his dick, he though of the closing words to the ritual.

“Infferi Sagunos finandos”

The cut began to burn, and Mark watched in amazement as it sealed itself shut, leaving not even a scar.

“Holy shit, it worked”, was all he could mutter to the empty room.

Slowly getting over his surprise, Mark quickly cleaned up the bathroom and gathered his supplies. As he was about to leave, he stopped, his eyes caught on an item resting next to the sink. It was his sister’s hair brush, unmistakable from the reddish brown hairs caught amongst its tines. Allison was the only one in his family with auburn hair.

“Why not just finish the spell tonight”, Mark thought, and with his mind made up he grabbed a tuft of hair from the brush. Excited to see his work finally completed, Mark rushed back to his room and locked the door. His parents would kill him if they found it locked, but catching him in the middle of performing black magic would probably be worse. With the room secure, Mark laid out his tools. A mortal and pestle from his kitchen, his blood, his sisters hair, and the herb mix he had prepared earlier. He also dug through his desk drawer until he found a lighter and a candle. Checking some notes he had made on the ritual, he sat himself down on the floor and began. First he burned his sister’s hair, depositing the ashes into the mortar and pestle. To this he added the herbs along with six drops of his own blood. He then set to work grinding the mixture into a paste. With each of these steps, Mark uttered the incantations that powered the ritual. When the last words had been uttered, mark lit his candle and touched its flame to the mixture.

At first the stone bowl seemed to absorb all the light in the room, and all he could see was the faint light of the candle. Then a pillar of flame rose from the mixture, burning wildly and spitting sparks throughout the room. And then, as quickly as it had begun, it vanished. The room returned to normal, and the once reddish mixture now appeared to have become a black paste. Dipping his fingers into the bowl, he took the paste and smeared it onto his chest, forming the symbol of binding. With the symbol made, he spoke the final words, bringing all the elements of the spell together. The paste suddenly burned against his skin, and Mark collapsed to the floor, writhing in pain. His eyes clamped shut, he couldn’t watch as the paste was absorbed into his skin. When he opened his eyes, the pain was gone as was the symbol.

Standing up, Mark made his way over to the mirror and looked at his chest. It didn’t look any different, and he certainly didn’t feel any different. How was he supposed to know if it worked? He tried to distract himself from these thoughts by cleaning up the mess the ritual had left behind The pillar of flame, which he was sure would have scorched the ceiling, seemed to leave no traces that it had ever existed.

For the next hour, Mark lied in bed, and thought about what he had done. He knew the ritual had been completed, as the mark on his chest was gone, but he didn’t feel any different. He certainly couldn’t feel his sisters presence, something he thought would have been a side effect of his spell. Checking his notes, all he could confirm for sure was that he would now have a “voice of command” when speaking to those he had bound to him. After all his efforts he refused to just lie around and let his power go to waste. Gathering his resolve, he marched out of his room, down the hall, and into his sister’s room.

His sister, now wearing a tank top and pajama bottoms, was lying in bed on the phone. The second she saw Mark, her face twisted in disgust. Still annoyed at what happened before, she ignored him and kept talking.

Mark stood before her bed, and gathered himself. It was good that is sister was making a show of ignoring him, as if he had to deal with her yelling he wasn’t sure if he would have been able to go through with it. Focusing his attention on her, Mark took a deep breath and said, “Turn off the phone”.

In mid sentence, Allison snapped the flip phone shut. She looked at the phone for a second before giving Mark an angry look.

“What the hell…”

“Stop talking, sit there, and listen”.

Mark was pleased to see she followed his commands to the letter. She sat there on the bed, silent and unmoving, with a look of fear in her eyes.

“You are mine now, bound to my will through infernal contract. You will do as I say at all times. You will never speak of my power over you to anyone. You will never complain about me or my actions to anyone. You will never attempt to harm anyone, including you or me. You may speak now, but you will not raise your voice or try to yell.”

“Mark”, she said, a tears forming in her eyes, “what have you done?”

Mark walked to her door and locked it, once again preferring his parent’s anger about the door to what he was about to do. He would have to deal with their interference later.

“It’s not what I’ve done, Allie, but what I’m about to do…. to you.”

“Mark”, she sobbed, “I’m your sister”

Mark paused at that, and for a second he seemed confused. But then a sneer work its way across his face.

“You ‘were’ my sister, now you’re my plaything. Get up, come stand at the end of the bed”.

As Allison shuffled her way over to her chosen spot, Mark reclined on the bed where she had been moments earlier.

“Take off your clothes”

“Mark!”, as shocked as she was, she felt compelled to obey, and stripped off her tank and pajamas. She stood in front of him in just a thong, tears streaming down her face.

“Stop crying. Being naked in front of me makes you feel good, makes you wet, although you can still feel just how wrong it is. Take off your underwear.”

Although her eyes screamed out in protest, her sobs abated and she reached down and pulled off her panties. Mark was surprised to see her pubic hair was a brighter red in comparison to her hair. It was shaved into a heart at the moment, something that Mark found hilarious.

“Nice sis, is your pussy going to be your valentine to Brad this year?

Brad was Allie’s boyfriend of the past year. Mark disliked him, he was a sports jock, and was always nasty to Mark whenever he came over to see Allie. Allison looked truly hurt, and twisted herself away from Mark, trying to hide her shame.

“Face me Allie, don’t ever hide your body from me. As she straightened up, he continued, “So you’ve been dating Brad a while now. How far has he gotten with you?

Allie lowered her eyes, “We’ve fooled around”, she mumbled.

“Details, Allie, now!”

“Well, the first time we went out I let him touch my breasts, and I gave him oral…”

“Damn, what a slut, the first date?”, Mark laughed, “And to think I thought you were a nice girl. Well obviously I was wrong. You’re a slut, and if that’s what your going to be, that what you should sound like.” Strengthening his voice, Mark commanded, “You no longer know the word vagina or penis. They are unknown foreign words to you. When you hear them or when you speak, you will only use the words pussy, cunt, dick or cock. You will call your ass just that, and nothing else. You don’t have breast, you have tits, or tittys. You don’t make love, you have sex or you fuck. You don’t have oral sex, you give head or you blow people. You will speak like this at all time”.

The look she gave him was priceless; he wondered what it actually felt like to have words stripped from your mind.

“Continue your story, from the beginning again.”

“Well, the first time we went out, he took me to the movies. We made out and he stuck his hand up my shirt and played with my… tits. He wanted me to blow him then, but I didn’t want to it in the theater. So after it was over we went back to his car and I blew him in the front seat”.

“Did you enjoy feeling his dick in your mouth?”

“I was ok, Stacy made it sound cooler then it was. And he came in my mouth even though I told him not to”.

“What a guy. Have you fucked him yet?”

“What… yeah, we’ve been having sex for most of the year”

“Does he make you cum?”

“Sometimes. If he goes down on me it helps”

“So why the heart shaped bush, does it get him off?

“I… I just did it for him; I thought he’d like it”

“Did he?”

“Yeah, but then he started on the who thing with the tattoo”

“What thing?”

“Well, he said he if I gave him that heart, I should get a heart on my ass… and then give him that too.”

“That?”

“My ass, he… wants to fuck me in the ass”.

Mark almost fell of the bed in laughter. “And you did it; you permanently marked your body with something that gives him permission to fuck you in the ass?”

“No! I was just going to tease him with it, and I wanted a tattoo anyway”.

“Well girl, the time for teasing is over. Why don’t you come over here and lie down next to me”

Allie shuddered, but did as she was told, and lied down next to Mark.

“Undo my pants and take out my cock.”

As she began to do so she looked up at him, quivering. “Please Mark…”

“Suck it”

She fished his cock out of his pants, already rock hard, and began to suck. The dick in her mouth made further pleas out of the question.

“Listen carefully, sis. You now love to suck cock. When a cock is in your mouth, it will feel just as good as when you have one in your cunt. The harder you work it the better you will feel. You no longer have a gag reflex.” Deep throating me is now one of your most favorite things.”

As Allie listened, her blow job became more and more enthusiastic. She took him deeper and deeper until her nose was deep in his pubic hair. Mark felt himself getting close to cumming.

“Right when I start to cum, you will take my cock out of your mouth and take the load on your face. Whenever my cum touch you, inside or out, you will orgasm. Do you understand?”

Allison tried to say yes, but with the head of Mark’s dick pushing past her tonsils, all she could manage was a “Yhughs”.

Suddenly Mark stiffened, and began to cum. True to her instructions, Allie yanked her mouth back, and pointed him at her face. As the fist jet of cum struck her in the cheek, she came with more force then she had ever experienced. Each new blast of come that came in contact with her skin have her another mini orgasm. By the time Mark was spent, she had collapsed on the bed, her hair matted with semen, and a large glob gluing her right eye shut.

Mark had a feeling he would have drifted off right then, had he not suddenly heard his mom shouting his name from downstairs. Bolting up in bed, he quickly got his clothes back in order. He looked down at his sister, her face still covered in his cum. He toyed with the idea of letting her go downstairs with her face still plastered, but knew he wasn’t ready for that… yet. He nudged her with his foot, and she looked over with the one eye she could still open.

“Listen. You love the feeling of my cum on your body, and you are now addicted to it. If you go more then 12 hours without touching it you will go through the kind of withdrawal you imagine heroin addicts suffer through. However, you will not let anyone see my cum on you. When you need to clean yourself up, you will scoop it up with your fingers and swallow it before you wash yourself. It is the best thing you have ever tasted. Now get cleaned up.

As Mark made his way out of the room to see what his mother was yelling about, he gave one last look at his sister before he closed her door. She was kneeling on the bed, eyes closed, slowly sucking cum off her fingers. “And to think”, thought Mark, “This is only the beginning”.