The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It was late, she was tired and it seemed just possible she had reached the point where her day couldn’t get any worse. Cursing softly under her breath, the young woman walked back to where she had parked her car. A large glass of Chablis waited at the end of the journey and, at the moment, it was the only thing keeping her going.

Despite these distractions, Allyson found her attention drawn to the splash of bright colour almost hidden behind the tiny windows. Although she had travelled down this same street many times, she couldn’t recall having ever seen this particular shop before. A small brass plaque over the door announced, ‘The Confectioner’s Emporium’ and, inside, she could see all manner of delicious-looking sweets and other goodies.

She was about to continue along the street, when a stray gust of wind shook the wooden door on its hinges, allowing an almost heavenly scent to issue forth. That was enough to settle the matter and, vowing to increase her exercise program to compensate, Allyson walked into the sweet shop.

Inside, almost obscured by the jars and boxes of confectionary, was a small man. He didn’t appear to notice her at first, and Allyson found herself staring at him. He was oddly dressed, in a very formal style. He wore a deep green suit with matching waistcoat. His face was ruddy and wrinkled, but his eyes were bright behind small, wire-framed spectacles. Atop his head was a mop of grey hair, unruly and slightly unkempt.

Abruptly, he seemed to notice his customer and, with surprising agility, he jumped down from his desk, before walking slowly towards her.

“Good day,” he began. “Welcome to my parlour. Was there something in particular you were looking for?”

Allyson started to explain that she had merely popped inside, having noticed the shop for the first time. But the strange man held up his hand for silence.

“Now then, if this is your first time, I must give you the grand tour.”

Allyson tried to tell him it wasn’t necessary, and that she didn’t want to be any bother. But her protests fell on deaf ears. The man simply handed the embarrassed woman a small cube of deep, brown toffee and bade her follow him into the shop.

Shrugging, she popped the sweet into her mouth and trailed behind the shopkeeper. She was amazed at the toffee’s taste and texture. It was incredibly creamy, and sweet without being cloying. In fact, she had to admit, it was almost the perfect combination of flavours. Meanwhile, the man began talking with some animation about the varieties of sweet he made here.

Allyson stopped him briefly, asking if he really made everything on site. The man beamed, and offered to show his new customer the machines, with which he created his masterpieces. She followed him happily, as he led her through another small door. Inside, the scent of sugar and other more exotic spices was even stronger. Various cookers and pots hissed and bubbled. The air was warm, and the ever-present steam made it almost unpleasantly humid.

The man seemed unaffected by the temperature, despite his heavy clothing. Still chatting away, he moved deeper into the room, then stopped beside a particularly large pot. Looking over at Allyson, who still stood in the doorway, he beckoned.

“Please, this is something you should see. It’s the next stage on from the toffee you’re eating, and I think this time I’ve gotten it absolutely right.”

Allyson was still chewing the sweet she had been given earlier, and was certainly in no hurry to finish it. Wondering what this new variant would taste like, she was willing to bear the humidity for a little while at least. Carefully avoiding the hot pipes, she picked her way to the corner, where the man waited patiently.

Very swiftly, he prised open the pot. A great gout of steam rose from the depths. Gingerly, Allyson leant forwards and breathed in the heady fumes. The scent was almost overpowering. It seemed to leap from her nostrils, directly into her brain, and made her head spin. Surprised, she tried to pull away. But, to her dismay, found that the man had a grip on the back of her head, and was effortlessly forcing her face closer to the pot.

Allyson tried to call out, to demand to know what he thought he was doing, but inside her mouth a transformation was taking place. The toffee seemed to become more and more viscous. It was an effort merely to draw her jaws apart and, as soon as her muscles relaxed, the sticky toffee pulled them back together. All the frightened woman could manage was a rather startled, “mmmmmmppffffff!”

Struggling, she tried to prise the man’s hand away. But, his grip was too strong, and her small hands made no impression. All the while she was forced to inhale the sweet vapour, and each new breath seemed to be making her weaker and weaker. Soon her arms lacked the strength to fight against him, and they fell to her sides, loose and limp. Her vision was already darkening, and even her thoughts were moving far too slowly, as if mired by the same sticky treacle as her jaws.

By now, she only remained standing because the man was holding her. Allyson’s legs had turned to jelly and a great weight pressed down on her. Her eyelids flickered shut and it took an almost superhuman effort to force them open. The victory was only short lived, however. Moments later they once more drifted shut and, this time, they stayed closed.

After letting her breathe the thick steam for a few minutes longer, the man gently lowered Allyson to the floor. He smiled as he took in her beauty, admiring the way her chest rose and fell with each deep, even breath. Bending down, he checked her mouth, and noted with some satisfaction that the toffee, once exposed to his tranquillising toffee syrup steam, had hardened into an unbreakable gag. There was, after all, nothing more annoying to a true artist, than the pleading and screaming of an ignorant woman.

Without effort, the Confectioner lifted the unconscious woman into his arms and carried her through a concealed entrance. That took them into the main part of his laboratory, deep below the city streets. He worked with practiced calm, knowing she would remain helpless for several minutes yet. Once they arrived in the production area, the villain got ready to strip Allyson out of her clothing. He took his time, savouring the look and feel of his captive’s helpless flesh. Something he had always seen as a fringe benefit to being an evil genius.

She was a trim young woman, with fashionably short red hair and a slender body that didn’t look particularly athletic, but was certainly not scrawny. Smiling in satisfaction, he pulled off his captive’s coat and flung it into a corner. Her shoes, and then her silk blouse quickly followed the heavy wax jacket. Moments later her skirt joined the growing pile. Now clad in only her modest undergarments, Allyson was an alluring sight.

The villain unclipped her bra, exposing delightfully small breasts, which he ran his hand over, lovingly. Then, knowing he didn’t have time to indulge his whims, he quickly pulled off her tights. The man paused for an instant, running rough hands over his captive’s long and supple legs. Then, finally, he slipped her out of the high-cut knickers, leaving her naked before him.

The Confectioner pulled at a thin chain dangling from the ceiling, and carefully locked the attached leather manacles around Allyson’s wrists. After checking to make sure they were secure, he took up the slack in the chain, drawing his captive’s arms up over her head. Happy that she wouldn’t be going anywhere when she awoke, the villain left to collect the other items he would need to prepare her for transport.

Allyson woke slowly, her thoughts still muddled and confused, but growing clearer as she realised what had happened. Her nakedness was the first unwelcome surprise. The feel of chill air against her flesh sped her return to full consciousness. As she tried to cover herself, the fact that her arms were bound became apparent, and when she tried to cry for help, she found her mouth still effectively gagged.

Seeing that his captive was stirring, the Confectioner pulled on the chain and, with insistent pressure on her arms, forced Allyson to stand. Once she was entirely upright, he locked off the chain again.

The young woman was terrified; her eyes were wild, imploring the villain to let her go. But he was apparently unmoved and, ignoring her soft and pitiful moans, he moved on to the next part of his plan.

Allyson saw the man approaching with a large jar. She braced herself for whatever new horror this would bring, but was totally unprepared for what happened next. Tipping the jar upright, the man emptied its contents over the startled woman’s chest. Slowly, a thick clear fluid, amber in colour, oozed forth. After an agonizing few moments, while Allyson thrashed this way and that, the fluid began to pour, running over her breasts, down her belly and onto her legs.

The chain stop her from struggling enough to escape the liquid and, the moment it first touched her body, all thoughts of getting away fled. The liquid was warm, but where it oozed over her skin, the flesh burned, passionately. There was an intense tingling, almost like pins and needles, but a thousand times more arousing and, as the syrup flowed lower, so the sensations increased.

By the time the special honey, made entirely from the nectar of a very special South American plant, began to exert its other effects, Allyson was simply too lost to notice.

The tingling slowly settled, leaving a warm numbness in its wake, along with that incredible arousal. Gradually Allyson’s muscles relaxed, comfortable torpor claiming first her upper body, then her legs. She slumped in the chains, letting her wrists and shoulders take her full weight. Her eyes began to glaze and her gentle, muffled moans took on a very different quality.

Happy that she would no longer try to resist, the villain produced a small brush, and began to smear the honey over every part of his captive’s body. While he would have loved to smear it into her succulent flesh using his hands, he was well aware of what this particular honey was capable of, and didn’t want to ruin his plan with one act of stupidity. It took some time, but eventually Allyson was coated from the neck downwards with a thin glaze of the sticky amber syrup. Allyson would only feel waves of pleasure now, her body burning with desire and arousal.

Carefully, the villain spread several sheets of cling film on the floor beneath her, before lowering her to the ground and releasing her wrists. Using a pair of heavy gloves, to avoid accidental exposure, he pressed a small sugar cane very gently against Allyson’s sex. It dissolved almost immediately, melting into a thick red and white solution that spread evenly over her groin. Without waiting for his captive’s reaction, he smeared his ‘special’ lip balm over Allyson’s mouth.

All that remained was to wrap his honeyed lovely for shipment. The cling film encircled Allyson, trapping her arms against her body. After adding several more layers, he was satisfied. She was tightly mummified, with only her head exposed. A quick heat treatment with a hairdryer left his package shrink-wrapped and, after he added a scarlet bow, she was ready.

Meanwhile, the sugar solution had seeped into Allyson’s sex and from there into her bloodstream. Her ardour had continued to rise throughout her ordeal, and this new assault was really overkill. Pressed to the limits of endurance, she climaxed almost immediately. But it didn’t stop there. She came again, and then again. By the fifth climax she had almost blacked out, and the sixth drove her back down into welcoming darkness.

Despite being unconscious, Allyson’s body continued to respond. The only outward sign of her ecstasy were the periodic shivers and her heavy, laboured breathing. She had no idea that even now she was being sent, special delivery, as an unsolicited gift for the Confectioner’s next victim…