The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The city of Ergberg, as whispered often by the townsfolk everywhere in a massive radius around it, was a terrible place to visit and a worse one still to live. Its slums were filthy and brutal, its aristocracy cruel and ruthless, and for the poor, even access to water could require a literal sacrifice of blood every month or so. It had draconian laws, punished all but its wealthiest, and was only kind enough to outsiders to part them from their wealth and absorb it into itself. Its trade was booming, but the fruits of its economy never seemed to reach down to the lowest.

Those who lived there often said otherwise. It was a near-universal belief within Ergberg’s walls that those who lived impoverished actually benefited from it. Poverty, they argued, breeds innovation. To that end they often pointed to their second-favorite god: the infamous Quietus, born in this very city countless thousands of years ago in its squalid sectors among filth and hunger. The path to greatness, they would argue, was freely available to any clever pauper who wished to take it.

There was space for exactly none of this in Rin’s mind when she woke up, when she donned the comfortable lavender robes of her goddess, when she slipped gloves like a princess’s up to her elbows, when she flexed the tendons of her long, thin fingers a few times with each hand, and when she spent an hour in the mirror applying makeup solely to then remove and practice imitating it with magic. Another god might look at what she’d done with scorn, but Namaah was an understanding deity. Rin smiled her best smile, imagining an adoring crowd accepting bread that had been graciously given to them by foolish patrons under her sway. So many minds, won so easily…

Rin brushed her thick, bushy, shoulder-length black hair, stretching her legs and occasionally rolling her shoulders in between strokes. Her appearance was important: she was the new girl, so she handled the paperwork and unimportant visitors. That window she’d heard about a few times, she mused, was supposed to be installed today. What a lovely thing, she thought to herself, grinning with a bit of evil mirth. If there were two things that pissed her off, those things were fools who believed in love, and fools who believed in charity.

She wondered if that young woman from the previous week had been caught. Which half of that detestable partnership did they belong to, Temmin or Heather, she wondered? It mattered not. She quietly scoffed to herself. “What rubbish.” Reading could be a worthy leisure activity for the rich, or a way to share knowledge among the worthy. But reading could never be—must never be, she thought giddily to herself, available to the witless masses. Lowlifes should never more information than they need to be useful. That was just the nature of things.

“The strong take everything,” she giggled to herself as she puckered up to kiss an imaginary partner, then batted her eyes playfully to affect a swooning schoolgirl. “And the weak die.” Strong could mean a lot of things, of course. Even the meat-headed god of sharks knew that a hulking monstrosity too slow to catch food and sustain itself was less worthy than a common squirrel. A thought bubbled to the surface of her head. “Is cartilage meat?”, she asked in a peppy tone, before immediately discarding the thought like she was throwing an unwanted doll out the window. Still, that second or two was the longest that Sangiris had ever occupied any real estate in her head.

She turned to face her other mirror, a glitzy ovoid one that covered a whole wall, framed with beautiful gold that had been bedazzled with far too manyjewels. She’d told the smith to cram as many on as possible and they’d done exactly that, placing them totally at random.(Really, they just asked for several times what it would cost and spent a fraction of that money hiring a real artisanto do the work, but Rin didn’t know that.) Rin posed for herself a few times, lamenting that she had to wear the robe instead of something more her style. She’d have loved a nice revealing dress, or some kind of extotic dancer’s getup.

It was a tad late, she realized, so she finally headed out the door and made her way to her temple. It was a massive building, something she might call ostentatious if she knew what that word meant. The temple was a large rectangular structure, with a conical tower at each corner, and a sort of dual ceiling coming together in a triangle shape that she couldn’t be bothered to learn the name of. Its walls were made of a combination of minerals and crystals from a local mine, black as night with the texture of steel. A more perceptive individual might ask how this was done, or why no other buildings, in this city, were made using any of these materials.

Rin was not a more perceptive individual. Rin was, as her superiors loved to point out where she could hear it, an airhead. She just knocked on the massive double doors and walked into the

Wow, that scent never gets old, Rin thought to herself as she took a deep breath of the special incense kept burning inside at all hours. A delightful tingle spread through her body as her thoughts got fuzzy and

“Wear your equipment, dipshit.” A pair of hands she couldn’t see slapped a mask onto her face and slipped its bands around her ears. All too quickly, the lovely sensation filtered out of her brain. Her thoughts, airy and cloudlike as they had been, came back into focus.

“S-sorry,” stammered the young initiate. She blushed in embarrassment as she pulled her hood over her head. “I’m still not used to wearing this and it’s—”

“Shuttit! You’re already late.” Rin wasn’t sure whether or not this voice belonged to someone she’d met. Whoever it was, they sounded scary. As her senses came back to her, she noticed the figure wore black robes with a purple lining. It was an unusual coloration for those of this cloth, and it probably meant that they—he?—outranked everyone she’d met so far.

“The Bleeding Empress will come through here in less than a week’s time.” They started to talk, walking away from Rin and approaching a dazed young woman sitting on the floor. They reached down to stroke her chin, ans she rubbed into their hand and moaned. The figure addressed the woman. “This girl works for her, doesn’t she?.”

“Yes, mis-mas-bosssss,” she slurred, her face swaying unsteadily left and right as her body drunkenly overcompensated to try and get her balance back.

“I prefer ‘master’.” The voice spoke with the kind of emotion Rin would call an “evil smile voice,” and the woman swooned pitifully.

“Yessss, masterrr,” she slurred again. Drool ran down her chin as she leaned forward, almost fell, and jolted back up like a puppy fighting sleep.

The figure turned back to Rin. “As much as I’d love to toy with this wench, I have more important matters to attend to. I’ve gotten everything I needed out of her. Have fun indoctrinating her, or using her as a paperweight or something.”

The stranger left in a huff. What an asshole, Rin thought for about two seconds, before she turned her attention to the pretty girl. Then she grinned.

“Come here, slave.” Slowly, on shaky arms and legs, the woman crawled in Rin’s direction. Drool dripped slowly from her mouth as she approached Rin. She limply drooped, first to the left and then to the right, then arched her back to stare up at the girl from her kneeling position. Rin grinned wider, drinking the girl in with her eyes.

She was a slender thing, with a petite jaw and slight facial features. Her hair, about jaw-length, was thin and soft, a light shade of brown, and it swished a little as her head swayed. She had a vacant expression, her eyes half-closed and her small mouth gaping as much as it could. Her eyes looked green, but with how narrowly they were open and how much her head kept moving, it was hard to tell.

“Do you have a husband?”

“Yesssss,” slurred the woman as her head wobbled. “And two kids…”

“Cute.” Rin’s smile grew as she slipped her robe open, exposing her breasts. They were large and almost perfectly round. They bounced a little bit as Rin kneeled.

Without warning, Rin seized the woman’s face and jammed it into her chest. The woman gave a muffled groan into her captor’s ample bosom, and limply collapsed into Rin with the rest of her body.

“Tell me you love me,” said Rin with a cruel smirk.

“Mmfllvuuuu,” she moaned, her voice muffled by Rin’s perfect flesh. Rin’s cleavage bounced as she giggled, one hand harshly jamming the girl’s face against her cleavage as the other found its way between the slave’s legs.

“More than your husband. More than your child,” she continued with a sadistic flair in her eyes.

“Mmmffffyyyy.” The slave tried to speak again, trembling with pleasure. One of Rin’s fingers pressed on her clit, and she spasmed with joy.

“Sooo much more, slave, soooo much more,” Rin cood to her new toy, which shook violently and tried to nod her head. “So much love, you can’t breathe!” Another groan. The woman’s crotch leaked fluid as she tensed her lower body and began humping. “Gooood slave. Now—”

The doors swung open, grabbing Rin’s attention. She immediately dropped her slave to the floor, where she curled into a ball with a tremendous grin and started fingering herself. The people with the window were here, and that just killed the mood.

“This way!", ang a voice she knew. Rin sighed and closed her robe.

How dreadfully dull.

Ordelia knocked on the door to one of the palace’s many guest rooms. A moment later, it opened, and the familiar Nuri smiled back at her. Some time had passed, and the elf had recovered a little. Their face no longer looked malnourished, and their eyes no longer burned with that desperate intensity that reminded one of a wild animal.

“Yes, Ordelia?” they greeted her, standing casually. They wore the garments the queen had ordered, tailored specifically to them. They were a little boring, but more than practical.

“I got a confirmation message this morning,” Ordelia started with a gentle motherly smile. “The supplies we sent to your hometown have arrived. Food, clothes, blankets. The trashed shops will be fixed, and those in charge of the area will be punished. Rest well, sweetheart. All of this is thanks to you.” Nuri blushed intensely, shying away just a little as Ordelia reached out and patted their head. “Unfortunately, I don’t have much time to spend with you today. Ring for Gina if you need her.” Nuri nodded, grinning excitedly. Had they fucked? They probably fucked. At least cuddled! They’d almost certainly cuddled.

Precious.

“I must be off now. I’m sure you’ve noticed that I’m a busy woman. Are you sure you don’t—”

Nuri impatiently shook their head. Understandable.

Ordelia was angry. The pleasant thoughts about her guest, and the beautiful sight of their face restored to health, had only done so much to quell the forest fire in her skull. Someone was going to PAY for this. She paced the platform in the throne room, her hands clasped tightly behind her back.

“Your drink, Milady.” It was the fen from the day the guest arrived. She smiled and thanked them, taking a glass goblet full of a bright red liquid. It wasn’t breast milk from the love goddess, she noted bitterly, but it would do.

“You may return to your post, sweetie,” She droned and swished the goblet with her wrist, magic keeping it from spilling. “I appreciate your help.” They nodded eagerly and darted off to return to wherever they were protecting.

“I thought you didn’t drink.”

A voice came from seemingly nowhere. Kirin appeared next to her, kneeling as usual. Ordelia sighed and flung herself into the throne, leaning to one side. She downed half the goblet in one gulp, then moved it to the other hand so she could rest her chin on that fist.

“Not alcohol. This is just fruit from… I think strawberries, condensed and filled with sugar.” Kirin nodded, then vanished. That had taken a while to get used to. Ordelia took one more swig as she heard the doors to the room open. Two guards dragged in a human and tossed him in an undignified heap before her.

“Hello, Scipio,” she scowled down at him, making a show of crossing one leg over the other. “I hear your district is having unrest?”

The disgruntled man raised his head to respond, but the guard on his left dropped a steel-clad heel on the back of his head and smashed his face into the floor.

“Yes, yes, he’s lost the right to look at me. You two are dismissed.” As the guards left, one shot him a death glare. Ordelia bit down a chuckle. She knew picking two elves for this job would pay off.

“Y-you don’t understand…” he panted, slowly lifting himself from the floor. “I have it under control, your majesty.”

Ordelia scoffed and crushed the goblet in her fist. Shards of glass exploded in a globe around her hand, the sugary drink mixing with the deeper red of her blood as it ran down her hand.

“I. Do. Not. Care. Tell me. Why. There. Is. A. Revolt.”

Scipio shook his head and regained his composure. He eyed Ordelia’s hand. She’s trying to intimidate me, he thought, by crushing some glass? He had served in wars!

“You weren’t here, but the elven community in the area led an uprising three years ago.” Ordelia nodded impatiently. “And we’ve been taxing them heavily. But when you got put in charge, you started demanding more funds. They have all those beautiful family heirlooms—you know how well their kind craft! So I started raising their taxes. It’s only fair! It’s their fault we spent so much putting them down!” Ordelia’s arms crossed. She gripped at them, digging her nails into her flesh and grinding her teeth. He didn’t notice. “So, they started getting uppity and ungrateful. So I decided to show them why they shouldn’t defy you—”

Ordelia snorted, a sick smile on her lips.

“Why…” he muttered, “are you laughing?”

Ordelia lifted her leg from her other knee, slammed it down, and rose to her feet.

“You’re right, you SHOULDN’T defy me!” Her wings flared out and she uncrossed her arms, her fists clenched.

“But I haven’t, your maj—”

“Silence!” She shouted, eyes intense. For an instant, he felt her power radiating through the room, pulsing wildly from her outstretched wings at random. The air in the room whipped erratically in all directions, and tore at his skin. Scipio knew, then, how it felt to be an ant, legs and antenna severed, staring into the sun in wait of death. A million excuses came flooding to his lips and turned on the spot to so much arid dust.

“YOU TOOK ACTION, TO ‘PLEASE’ ME, BY STARVING AND INFLICTING VIOLENCE ON MY PEOPLE!?“

Scipio opened his mouth to answer. Ordelia pointed a finger at him, the sclera of her eyes turning pitch black.

“You are scum.”

Immediately it was like a sea of hands had seized Scipio’s spirit and violently pulled him into an ocean of despair. Feelings he’d never experienced exploded into his mind as a sense of uselessness threatened to drown him. His mouth gaped uselessly open. I am scum, said a voice in his head that he knew was right as everything faded into black, and I am to be loathed by all that breaths. His head swiveled up and down vacantly, tears rolling down his face. He was scum. He was worthless. Every kind word that had ever been thrown his way was an insult to the very concept of morality.

His heart began to palpitate. Ordelia grimaced. o use dealing with him past this point. like he had anything more to say. But the beast in her ribcage snarled still. emanded justice. Demanded that he hurt for his wrongdoing. It demanded blood.

She opened her palm and snarled.

“Disappear.”

A scream gurgled from the loathsome nobleman’s body as magics ancient and horrible wrenched him into the air, yanked his limbs in directions they were never meant to go, and perforated his insides. body until nothing but atoms remained. Dust fluttered gently to the ground scatter as Ordelia panted and regained her composure.

“Well,” she muttered, disappointment swelling inside her, “that could have gone better.”