The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

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© 2001 by Sara H.

This is a Write Club story... the themes are listed at the end.

* * *

In Descent

By Sara H

* * *

Jessica looked down the list, checking the inventory against her list. It was a simple job, but difficult nonetheless. After awhile, the titles of the books all started running together, leaving her cross-eyed and frustrated. “Daylight’s End” would become “Darla’s Friend” and “Sense of Danger” would become “Sensual Ranger”. It usually went downhill from there.

She rubbed her bleary eyes and decided to take a break. Closing them, she saw lines of text there... the after-image of too many words, now mapped like headlines across her the insides of her eyelids.

Coffee time. She walked out of her small bookstore and went next door to the Twinings CafÈ. “Hi, Peter,” she called to the owner. Peter was a pretty nice guy, and his moving in had transformed her little hole-in-the-wall to a kind of underground haven for those who liked reading over a cup of cappuccino. They were even talking about putting in a door between their shops... it would be good for both businesses.

If she weren’t so overweight, she might have even asked him out.

Peter came out from the back and smiled. “The usual?” he asked.

“Large mocha, extra shot, no whipped cream,” answered Jessica.

“The usual,” said Pete, laughing at her inability to trust him to know. After a year of the same order every day, it was amazing that she still felt it necessary to say it out loud.

“You know, I love this place, Peter, especially all the old knick-knacks. It really adds a kind of homey feel.” Jessica looked at the shelves filled with old urns, grinders, burlap bags and canisters. Then something caught her eye.

“Isn’t that one new?” she asked, staring.

It was beautiful... a blue china bottle, with a white porcelain stopper. The artwork was exquisite, and the more she looked at it, the more beautiful it seemed to become. The artistry was subtle... etchings so ornate as be almost invisible, worked into the design of the stain, showing a picture within a picture.

“Yes, it is,” said Peter, walking over and handing her the mocha. I found it at the flea market last weekend. I don’t think it’s worth much... it’s an old flavor syrup bottle, and I thought that maybe I should add a touch of elegance to my collection.”

“You know, I should do something like that. Decorations and atmosphere could add a lot to my store. It’s pretty drab the way it is.”

“Well, why don’t you start with this, then?” asked Peter, taking the beautiful piece down from its shelf.

“Oh, Peter, I couldn’t. It’s too nice for you to just give me.”

“Sure you could. Besides, when we put in the opening, it will be back in here, in a way.”

“Well, it won’t be yours, though. But if you really think it’s okay...”

“It’s fine. I want to. It will add some continuity to both our places. And you’ve been my best customer.”

“Okay, then,” said Jessica, taking it from him. “I don’t know how to thank you...”

“Sincere thanks are all that I need,” said Peter, still smiling. “Have a good day, Jess.”

She still wasn’t sure, but when it ended up in her hand, it seemed almost as if it carried itself. How incredibly delicate, she thought, wandering back to her store.

* * *

Two days later, Jessica was holding the bottle again. It was wondrously light... sometimes it felt like if she let go of it, it would float in midair. The designs were especially intriguing. She’d looked in book after book, but she couldn’t find anything remotely familiar in culture or style.

Right now, she was having the oddest thought. Peter had said it had once contained flavoring syrup, and she was wondering if it would still have any aroma. She knew it was silly; that the bottle had likely been cleaned many times, but it was a thought that kept coming back to her.

Finally turning a corner, she tried to pull out the stopper. Luck was not running in her favor though, and it was stuck tight. She tried running it under water, and even tapped the top lightly on the counter, but nothing seemed to work.

Giving up, she went to get a rag to wipe the water off. As she did, the etchings took on a deeper quality... and although she had treated it with kid gloves up to that point, not wanting to even polish it, she ran her finger down from the neck to its base.

A delicious shiver ran up her arm and part way up her neck... and then, as if it realized it was going the wrong direction, moved down her body and caromed straight into her pussy.

Jessica’s eyes went wide. Growing up in her fundamentalist family, pleasure was something that was only felt briefly, and with the greatest of guilt. But this didn’t have any residual emotion... in fact, she felt a kind of odd, disorienting euphoria. And, it had made her wet.

She took her palm, and rubbed it down the side.

Immediately, her body convulsed as a wave of pleasure washed through her, making her nipples erect, and her pussy literally gush. She felt light-headed and giddy... but not so giddy to realize that she had nearly dropped it. She placed it on the counter and, placing both hands on it, began to lightly rub both hands over it, exploring the contours.

As she moaned with her approaching climax, she realized she couldn’t stop... it was just too fucking good... and she giggled as she realized that fucking was just the word she had been looking for, a word she would have been embarrassed to admit she even knew only moments before.

She began to grunt in time with her hands, “Ungh... ungh...ungh...” She threw her head back, her knees near buckling as the pleasure swept through her like a tornado through a sunny summer day. And then with a blinding flash, she came, screaming out, falling to the floor, legs and arms flailing, a buoy in a tidal wave, head crashing and eyes losing sight... and then, slowly, coming to rest... the wave relenting, softening, leaving her bobbing up and down on the gentle swells of her afterglow.

She stood up behind the counter, hoping no one had seen or heard her vile display. She looked at the bottle, and her eyes grew wide. Whatever this thing was, it wasn’t normal. Then she noticed something else. The stopper had come out.

She hear a rustling and leaned over the counter to see a woman... slowly sitting up. “Um... I was... um... just...” she stammered.

The woman looked up at her with coal black eyes. No, not black... her irises were a very dark violet.

“God, you must be the repressed woman of the millenium,” the woman said. “The more pent up, the bigger the climax, and honey, I’ve never cum like that... not in six thousand years.”

Jessica was stupefied. “What are you talking about?”

“You look like a smart girl.” The woman closed her eyes briefly. “Jessica. Jessica Minors. That’s you. Are you a dunce, or what?”

“No, I’m not a dunce,” sniffed Jessica, insulted.

“Okay, then, look at it. Old bottle. Rub the bottle. Strange person appears who knows your name. Sounding familiar?”

“You’re a djinn? A genie?” said Jessica. She would have been more skeptical, but after all... she had just been through the weirdest experience of her life. This was nothing by comparison.

Jessica looked at the woman. Like the bottle, the more she looked, the more beautiful the woman became. She was getting wet all over again, despite herself. Not being a lesbian only served to confuse and embarrass her more.

“I’m a djinn, yes, but I’m Riala, not Genie. And don’t worry about the arousal. It comes with the territory.

At the word arousal, Jessica’s nipples sent a hot spark straight to her clit. She couldn’t take her eyes off of this woman. More and more, she didn’t want to. “And I suppose I get three wishes, then?”

“Well... that was wishful thinking on someone’s part. I mean, with no limits, one per customer. Pretty fair, considering the amount of work I do. You already got one gift.”

Jessica blushed as she caught herself teasing a nipple through her blouse. It was just too good to ignore, and the walking goddess before her wasn’t making it any easier. She squeezed her legs together, trying to rub her clit. “That was you, then.”

“No, it was the bottle. If you were sexually experienced, you probably would have gotten money, or love for letting me out. I don’t really control that part. The bottle just figures out what you have the least of and gives it to you.”

“And how do I make the wish?”

“You write it down. Any ideas? I’d like to suggest a night of outrageously wonderful sex with me. No one ever seems to take me up on it, though,” said Riala, licking her full, round lips.

“I’m always ready for wishing. And I’m certainly tempted... but I have my whole life to think about. So, if you’re ready, I know what it is. It’s...”

“No, you can’t say it. That ruins my ability to bring it about. You have to write it down. Then, since I can’t read human languages, you have to translate it. You do that by burning it. Smoke is uni-lingual once you know how to read it. And I’ve read lots of smoke.”

Jessica wrote down the wish, as instructed and after a nearly futile search for a match, burned it. What the hell, she figured. There’s nothing to lose...

The smoke rose and swirled around Riala, gathering as if on command. If Jessica had been unsure about the nature of Riala, this display changed her mind.

Riala gave Jessica an impish smile, and said, simply, “Granted.”

Then, along with the smoke, she blew away, evaporating with the wind. When Jessica looked back at the counter, the stopper was back in the bottle. She rubbed it once more, out of curiosity.


Shrugging, she placed it up on a shelf for display.

And then, she waited.

* * *

And waited.

For six weeks, she looked for some sign that her wish had been granted, but nothing. She tried rubbing the bottle again, but nothing that way, either. No Riala, no pleasure. Not a spark.

On the other hand, she began to learn the joys of masturbation. Now that the door had been opened, she spent every moment she could playing with her pussy. And thanks to the beauty of the djinn, she found her thoughts turning to women more and more.

She began to read books from the Psychology/Lifestyle section dealing with lesbian love and fantasies. She ordered books on self-pleasure from her distributor, and began buying toys.

Words like cunt, asshole, tits, dildo... were all new to her vocabulary, and were all becoming suddenly, magically, a part of her life.

Saturday evening rolled around, and she closed the shade on the door, placing the closed sign on the window. She slowly undressed, sitting in her chair behind the counter so as not to be seen. It gave her a delicious thrill to know that people walking by outside were so close, and yet unknowing of the sexual depravity so close to them.

She reached down and unlocked her treasure chest, pulling out a slender vibrator and what was called an “Anal Finger.” Tonight she was going to take yet another new step into her discovery of bodily pleasure.

She began to circle her clit slowly, savoring the growing tingle, and the little jolts of pleasure as she pressed in, letting it pop out from under her finger. Mewling with delight, and becoming unaware of her surroundings, she opened a bottle of olive oil and used her finger to lubricate her asshole.

She shivered in delight at the pleasure and taboo of it. Instead of guilt, she felt a heady rebellion as she pictured making love to a beautiful woman who knew her every pleasure spot. Trembling, she placed the slender anal vibrator in and turned it on as she sat. If she had questioned why it would be good before, she didn’t now.

Picking up the wand, she turned it on and teased her clit. Sitting on the finger, she took a finger and tasted her own juices for the first time. She swooned with delight as the vibrations coursed through her belly, longer waves as the two instruments moved in and out of sync.

She began to grind her hips, sucking her finger, pleasure spreading through her as she moved up the hill of the incredible roller coaster of orgasm.

He mewling changed to guttural moans as she let the last of her inhibitions go, her body lunging in wanton need.

“Fuck yes, fuck yes, fuck yes,” she mumbled breathily as she moved closer and closer to the addicting pleasure of her unbridled lust.

Her hand grabbed the counter and she looked up from her chair and nearly had a cardiac arrest when she saw a woman standing there.

“And to think I was only going to buy a book,” said the woman, smiling.

Jessica nearly fell off the chair and stumbled to get dressed, mumbling apologies and generally looking like she had just committed a murder.

“No, no, love. It was hot,” whispered the woman.

Jessica continued to look down, still humiliated that she was caught... and that she had forgotten to lock the door.

“Aw, so cute,” continued the woman. She seemed to consider something, her eyes twinking, and then she said, “Maybe I should go outside and announce it, though. This was quite a display. I could sell tickets.”

Jessica looked at her in sudden, choking fear and panic. “Nooo...” she said, but it only came out as a whisper.

“Well, maybe I won’t... but you have to promise to be a good girl. And you have to go out with me tonight.”

There really wasn’t any other choice.

* * *

And what a night it was. Amanda, the woman who had discovered her and then blackmailed her into a date, took her to “The Wire,” a club on the outskirts of town. As she walked in, her eyes nearly popped out of her head.

They were greeted by a woman wearing a black leather corset, a leather g-string, some kind of clamps on her nipples, and black knee-high platform boots. She stared at the clamps, feeling sympathy pains as she thought about how they must feel.

Amanda was quick to notice and said, “I see you like nipple clamps. I have a pair, if you’d like to wear them.”

Shaking her head no emphatically, she followed Amanda deeper into the club.

She’d never seen anything like it. Women were sliding over each other, dressed in leather and latex, openly kneeling before each other, kissing, feeling, fingering, moaning and dancing. It was like an orgy just beneath the surface of dancing and lights.

She had a glass of wine, and came to the conclusion that she might as well enjoy herself, since she really had no choice but to be here.

Amanda kept her to herself all night long, and as the evening progressed, she became more and more grateful. She turned out to be not only beautiful, but intelligent, sexy... and demanding. Something in the way she simply assumed control made Jessica want to stay with her, please her. It aroused her. It made her hot as hell.

After a few glasses of wine, she was dancing like everyone else, sliding up and down Amanda’s body, as Amanda purred and smiled... sending a shiver over her skin and a puddle to her panties.

She didn’t even object when Amanda placed a collar on her neck, and secured it with a lock. She was completely enamored. She was insatiably horny. She was completely unable to stop. It had all happened so gradually, that she had hardly noticed her own objections. Here, somehow, it all seemed so normal.

By the time Amanda informed Jessica that she would be going home with her tonight, she didn’t even have a second thought.

* * *

J lovingly licked the boots of her Mistress, carefully and completely covering them with kisses and adoration. Soon, Mistress would allow her the pleasure of moving upward, and then again, until she was servicing her owner with such focus that she was almost in a trance.

Finally, she felt the tug of the chain that ran to her nipple rings, the sign that she could proceed to Mistress’s thighs.

She lovingly licked and kissed as the aroma of her Life entered her and made her swoon with passion. Mistress was horny today. J was happy. Life was good.

In the year since that first night at the club, so much had changed. Mistress had opened her eyes to her essence, to what lived in her blood. She was born to be a slave. She saw it, now. She felt nothing but love for Mistress, and even with every lick, as instructed, she thought the words, “I love you.”

She felt another tug and moved inward to the hot wetness that was her home and her deepest yearning.

She had even lost forty pounds, fitting easily into a size six now, when she was allowed to wear a dress. It was rare. Since selling the bookstore to Peter, she didn’t have nearly as much need to go out. Leaving her family had been tough, but it had been done.

It was what Mistress wanted.

She placed her tongue on Mistress’s sweet cunt and lapped up the length, savoring the permission as much as the taste and pleasure. A soft sigh from Mistress was reward enough to know that she was doing what she was here for... any pleasure Mistress wanted or needed.

Suckling the clit and flicking with her tongue, she delighted in the spasms that moved through Mistress’s legs, and felt the tug on the chain connected to her butt plug that told her Mistress was about to cum.

Moving with the ferocity of a huntress, she attacked and bit Mistress’s clit, her hand moving to her own dripping cunt... a sight that would send Mistress over the top and into paradise.

Her orgasm overtook her before she felt it coming... when allowed to cum with Mistress, it was beyond anything she had every known or could want... and as she felt Mistress’s legs close on her head, directing her to stop, she collapsed in joy and abandon as the aftershocks and warmth of perfect love filled her.

* * *

She was sleeping, dreaming, when the djinn returned to her.

She remembered their first meeting and smiled. Mistress would not be upset at this dream.

“So, J, your wish has come true. I always keep my promise. And for you, no tricks. I’ve come for my only payment... your thanks.”

“But... you didn’t grant my wish! Not that I’d want you to, now. My life is not where it was, and I would wish only to please my Mistress.”

“No,” argued Riala, “I gave you exactly what you wrote down!”

“I wrote, ‘successful behavior in business,’ and not only do I not have a business, I’m a slave to Mistress Amanda. Not that I’m complaining. I’m glad you didn’t do anything.”

“What?!?” cried Riala. “’Successful behavior in business’? I thought you wrote ‘Sexual slavery and fitness’!

“Damn, more than a hundred smoke readings in a year and my eyes play tricks. I think I need to go get a cup of coffee...”

And with that, Riala disappeared in a puff of smoke.

J smiled and dreamed of Mistress.

* * *