The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

This is a great fuckin’ deal.

I wish this were a new thought for me, but it wasn’t. I’d had the exact same thought, ohh, about a zillion times, ever since Roger Armbrister, the office manager, had dropped the Patterson property right into my sales lap, with orders of “Get it sold, or else.” The “or else” in this case was getting my ass fired from my third real estate agency in five years.

But dammit, how was I supposed to know Roger was right outside the kitchenette door when I referred to his new wig as “Tasmanian road kill”? I mean, Lindsay had laughed hard, and so had Rudy. So why couldn’t Roger see it as the joke that it was? I suppose if I hadn’t turned him down for dates those three times he might have had some compassion, and not dumped this albino elephant of a residential property on me.

Oh yes, it had been nearly impossible for me to turn down his, “Marion... you’re one hot chick, and with my wife out of town, you and I could really get it on together,” come-on. Sigh....

The Patterson property....

Nobody had been able to sell the place in the two years it had been with the agency, and with good reason. The place had history, bad history, and every agency in town—hell, every human being in town—knew all about it.

It’s a rather nice, two-story, very large Victorian over on Crescent Boulevard... a nice house in a nice neighborhood. We’d discounted the price five times in those two years. It should be a breeze to sell in today’s market... right?

Uh-uh.

It was haunted, you see, or at least that was the speculation. To start with, fifteen years ago, Gloria Wentworth, the wife of the Richard Wentworth, went totally nuts there. She took a rather large butcher knife and hacked up her husband and kids. A totally gruesome bit of business that was never fully explained.

Over the years since, it had been sold a few times, usually to young couples. But in each case, within less than a year, they had all bailed, the rumor being that there was someone in there, some ghost, haunting up a storm. Still, at the lowball price being asked for it each time, there were always new takers. Always takers, that is, until after the Patterson’s took it over, three years ago.

As the story goes, April Patterson and her husband, Keith, invited another young couple over for dinner. Well yadda-yadda, April catches Keith in flagrante delicto with the couple’s wife, so sneaks down and gets, you guessed it, a large butcher knife, apparently intent on proprius coitus interruptus. The couple’s husband, trying to stop her, gets “Caesar’d”, and dies. Then April rushes upstairs, all hell breaks loose, and she ends up killing the “other woman”.

But in her attempt to chase down her husband, who was literally running for his life, Mrs. Patterson tripped on the stairs, came tumbling down, and broke her neck. End of a rather horrible drama.

Needless to say, Mr. Patterson decided to put the house on the market and leave town. I’ve never understood why Roger accepted the account, as with the new history of the house it was basically unsellable.

And now it was mine to try to move. Whoopee!

I tried for weeks, and couldn’t get anyone to even look at the place. All the other agencies in town are very free with their gossip about it, which insures it’s simply too notorious for me to get anyone to seriously consider purchasing it, even at the incredibly low price I’ve been asking.

So, in a last act of futility, I set up a good old-fashioned open house, hoping for the best. Yeah, right! From 10 AM to 4 PM I’d had exactly two couples come in the door. Neither was really interested, and probably just wanted to peek inside such an infamous house.

Thus, I’d sat there all day near the front door; sat there in a hardwood chair I had dragged out of the dining room, part of the furnishings Mr. Patterson had left with the house in his haste to get away from the area; sat there and got so bored and feeling so sad for myself, thinking my life was turning into a slow-motion nightmare.

I’d sat there until 3:45 PM, when the futility of it all apparently got to me, and irresistable waves of sleep chemicals suddenly filled my mind....

Screw it, who cares anyway... nobody comin’... Yeah, some fuckin’ deal... sleepy....

Wake up, honey!

I woke up as told, the voice so insistent in my head. I slowly open my eyes, noticing rather instantly that things were not as they should be.

First, it was dark. I could tell that because the only light in the room was a single candle on the portable table right in front of me. It was just standing there forlornly between the unused stack of house brochures and the unused pile of loan applications. A candle?

Second, there was something wrong with my body, with my mouth. I tried to move, to stand up or call out, but couldn’t. I seemed to be taped to the chair... my wrists through the chair slats behind me, my ankles tight to the front legs, and with something thick and silky pulled between teeth, gagging me.

I started to struggle, until I “heard” that voice again, that feminine voice that sounded like it was coming from inside my head.

Relax, Marion. You’re not going anywhere, and we need to talk.

I tried to talk, to yell at whomever to untie me, to show herself, but it just came out a mashed garble of soft syllables.

I can’t untie you, and I can’t show myself, sweetness. Now just settle down, I can hear you fine.

“Hear me?” I mumbled through the gag.

Yes, dear, I can hear your thoughts.

“My thoughts?”

Yes....

“Then hear this! Who are you, where are you, and why the fuck am I tied up?”

I heard her laugh, a very sweet sound, actually. Why, I’m April Patterson, of course. I’m dead, but inside you now, and I didn’t want you leaving before we could talk.

All I could think was, Oh crap... oh crud. Please god, let this actually be a nightmare!

“How... I don’t understand....”

Look, sweetie, I’m a ghost, a spirit, someone who died doing a terrible thing, not that the two of them didn’t deserve it. In a moment of extreme anger, some dead witch named Gloria Wentworth got inside me, I went crazy, and the next thing I know I’m covered in blood. The next thing after that, I’m dead, and Gloria is gone. I can still hear her cackling as she faded away.

But now I’m stuck in this house, the same as she apparently was. That stinks, because I have some unfinished business I need to attend to. I’ve decided that YOU are the one to help me finish it. So I filled your mind with sleep, made my hands corporeal long enough to tie you up, and now I’ve moved inside you so we can chat.

While all that sounded strangely logical, I was still confused. “You made your hands real? You’re inside me?”

Yes, real... sort of like what happened in the movie, “Ghost”. That beautiful laugh again. But doing that almost completely drained my resources, so I kept you asleep for hours so I could fully recover. And yes, I’m inside you now, and I’m hoping you’ll let me stay, so I can attach myself to you and leave here.

“Are you nuts? Get outta me, untie me!” I started to struggle again, lurching on the chair and straining at my bindings.

STOP IT! SETTLE DOWN AND HEAR ME OUT! Her yelling in my head was so loud and disconcerting that I did what she wanted, sitting more quietly, still breathing hard.

Much better, Marion, her voice soothing now. Before you decide you want me to go, please let me show you what it could be like if you let me stay.

Even as I was thinking, “I’ll never let you stay,” it began.

It began as a gentle caress, something that moved over every part of my body all at once. I gasped, as it felt like the ultimate in full-body massage, only so much softer and more intimate. My skin was tingling everywhere, and in spite of my situation, it felt heavenly... so sensuous and arousing.

The “touches” shifted though, starting to concentrate on my “good” spots... my lips, my neck, my breasts and pussy. It felt like they are all being stroked from both the outside and the inside, the rubbing still so gentle, but directly on my nerve endings. I moaned and started to writhe, my body betraying me utterly, my nipples stiffening, my clit swelling. My pussy rapidly turned sloppy wet with lust, and there wasn’t anything I could do to stop it... it just felt too good.

Yess, I could hear her whisper in my mind. Now you begin to understand, Marion. This is something I can do for you at any time, in any place. Imagine that… think about standing in a long, boring ticket line and then suddenly feeling my light touches, my seductive massage. Think about the pleasure of being constantly aroused, of masturbating yourself without moving a muscle.

Then she increased the stimulation in my nipples. My body supplied the blood, and I felt them straining and throbbing against the tight fabric of my bra. I moaned and lurched against my restraints, feeling her delicious torture.

And I can do something else for you, Marion, something I long to do.

“What… what else can you do?”

I can love you, my dear. I can love you more than anyone else ever has or ever will.

As she finished, I felt a wave of something else course through me… warm and wonderful and even more intimate than April’s “touch”. It was love, pure and undistilled, an almost visceral thing. I gasped at its power, at the incredible feel of it, overwhelmed almost to the point of fainting.

I can love you so much, Marion. I do love you so much, she whispered, at the same time exciting the entire surface of both breasts, as if she were stroking them from base to nipple with soft velvet. I shuddered, arching and moaning as she did the same to my labia and clit, and to my hypersensitive lips and neck.

And she kept doing that, and doing that....

It was far too much deep, relentless pleasure to resist, and with a wild moan, I started to cum helplessly, explosively. I lifted my hips even higher off the chair, snapping and jerking my pelvis as my orgasm consumed me, the sensations continuing as I came and came.

When it finally ended, I fell back into the chair, shaken and sweating and snorting for air, my heart hammering, feeling her love surrounding and filling me, the last five minutes seeming like a wildly sexual dream.

Oh, that was a good one! Her voice sounded as if she were panting, too.

“You felt that?” I thought, feeling dizzy and, well... wonderful.

Oh yes, darling, she murmured. Your pleasure truly is my pleasure now. I groaned as I felt her gently massaging my clit and nipples again. And I soo love pleasure... don’t you?, she purred, starting the process all over again.

I was totally helpless, unable to get free, unable to resist the arousal she could generate inside me at whim, the warmth and passion of her love as it melted my heart. I don’t think it was four minutes before I was cumming again.

By the third orgasm, my mind a fog of desire, I was speaking to her as I would a real-life sexual partner. “Oh April, that’s so good!” “Oh yesss, right there!” “I can’t stand it, let me cum!”

By the fourth orgasm, I was totally in love with her; my love for her overlaying hers for me to make the raw sexuality even better, more arousing, more complete and completely incredible.

And after the fifth, I was begging her to stay with me, to live inside me, to be my secret lover forever.

What would you do if your life suddenly switched from dull, defeated, and empty to exciting, intimate, and passionate? From unfocused and uncertain to clear and purposeful, all in just a few hours?

As I sat there panting and moaning, she told me, In a minute, if you reach a bit across the back of the chair seat, you will find a sharp knife taped there, my love. If you’re very careful, you can use that to cut us free.

I simply nodded, too drained to even think the word “okay”, to lost in the afterglows to be mad at myself for not finding the knife sooner.

But before you do, because you’ve been so kind and generous to have allowed me to stay with you, to love me back as I truly love you, I have one last thing I want to give to you. Call it a reward, a way to seal our deal, something I can give you every time you please me like this.

I felt her touch once more, over every square inch of my body, light and airy like a soft breeze. Then it started to shrink, no longer touching my fingers or my toes or the top of my head. I felt it sliding away from my neck and shoulders, moving lower. I felt it slowly pulling up along my ankles and calves, moving higher.

But where it still touched me it grew stronger, more concentrated, more arousing. As the seductive feelings left my breasts and rose up past my knees, strengthening in their power, I suddenly had an idea of what was going to happen, my mind crying, “Noo… Oh god, not that!”

April would not be deterred though, and there was nothing I could do to stop her. So her erotic touches shrank and shrank, grew stronger and stronger as they moved up my thighs, down past my navel, and merged deep in my loins. They joined together in a single spot, all the pleasure and sensation finding and filling my clitoris to the point I felt it would explode.

Screaming through my gag, I came again, my pussy wildly humping the air, drenching my already soaked panties with my release, my mind snapping and unraveling under the impact of such relentless and insane arousal.

When the world returned, and I finally started to come down, and just before I passed out from exhaustion, I thought, April is so wonderful. How could Keith even consider doing something like that to... us. The bastard deserves all he’s got coming to him!

I felt April “kiss” my lips, and let myself drift off into a well-earned sexual coma, smiling happily.

I’d worry about trying to sell the damn house tomorrow.