The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

There was no live band playing the club that night, but it was still unbearably loud. Ida was glad for the loudness— she was with a date, but she didn’t feel much like talking to her. Pasting a too-wide smile on her face was work enough— making conversation when she felt so lifeless inside would have been just too much.

She’d agreed to come on this date for two reasons: to prove to her friends that she was finally moving on from Jane, and to prove to Sylvie that she didn’t care about her.

Maybe for three reasons: she was hoping to distract herself from Sylvie, use this girl in front of her to help herself get over her. Not that she’d been under Sylvie— well, she had, but not in a “feelings” way.

Because she couldn’t have feelings for her. She could not... it was wrong. Sylvie was wrong. They’d never even dated officially. They’d only fallen into a messy hook-up situation, which had then bled into a strange kind of head game situation that Ida still didn’t entirely know how to talk about. But whatever the relationship between them was, whether sexual… or mental… or both, it wasn’t… good. It left Ida feeling confused, doing things she couldn’t understand. So moving on from it as quickly as she could was crucial. The relationship was wrong; Sylvie was wrong; Sylvie was bad news, and a dangerous influence in her life.

Or maybe Ida was wrong; damn, she knew that already. She’d suspected it for years before she’d ever fallen into the mess with Sylvie that she was now trying to escape.

But the first night with Sylvie had proved Ida’s wrongness beyond a doubt. She’d still been with her last official girlfriend at the time, Jane, and Sylvie had only been an acquaintance. Ida had really loved Jane— she was the complete opposite of Sylvie. Kind and good, easy to understand and open about her intentions and her feelings. Ida still sometimes got into a funk about her break-up with Jane, even though so much time had passed since.

And yet, even though she’d been in love with Jane, and committed to her, Sylvie had only had to… look the way that she did, and get Ida on her own… and before Ida had known it the two of them had been sleeping together.

The worst part was that that hook-up had predated Sylvie playing around in her head. Ida had been tempted by Sylvie— she had wanted her, even though she’d been with Jane at the time. The responsibility for that decision belonged only to her; and as far as Ida was concerned, it proved once and for all that she was bad. She was wrong. She made decisions to sabotage herself only because she liked the way they made her feel— and other people got hurt as a result, and she did it anyway, and didn’t care.

Whatever. Ida shook her thoughts of Jane and Sylvie out of her head. Everything about the whole Sylvie situation was just plain wrong, when broken down into separate parts, and when regarded as a whole.

So here she was, on a set-up with a friend of her friend Nicole’s— Rikki, Ida thought her name was. Rikki had offered to buy Ida dinner, but everything about this date had, from the beginning, been about going through the motions and keeping herself at a distance. From her friends— because in taking it, she’d had tangible evidence to offer up to get them off her case about her post-breakup depressive wallowing tendencies. From Rikki— because as long as they were at this club, Ida could keep things casual. And from Sylvie too, because Ida’s being here with Rikki proved she didn’t want Sylvie anymore.

Despite her general apathy towards Rikki, Ida was grateful to be at the club. Going to dinner, as Rikki had first suggested, would have been too much work— and way too intimate. She had nothing of herself to share. Her heart was a barren wasteland, with no potential for new growth or new love— no vitality. It had been that way ever since Jane left, and it was still that way, getting more that way the longer she messed around with Sylvie.

It was much easier to come to a place like this club and smile like an idiot while the music practically deafened her than it was to sit down and actually talk to a girl.

“Are you sure this isn’t too loud?” Rikki mouthed, dancing awkwardly in front of her. For all Ida knew, she was actually speaking, but Rikki’s voice was impossible to single out.

“No, I love this song. Is it too loud for you?” Ida mouthed back— she didn’t bother actually speaking; she knew it would be lost on her date.

Rikki just shook her head, and danced more energetically. She still seemed to feel a bit awkward around Ida; and suddenly Ida worried that Rikki and Nicole would talk, that Rikki would complain that Ida was too distant. She worried that if Rikki did, it would tip Nicole off that things were not as they should have been — Ida’s “look how over Jane I am” performance would be discredited, and Ida worried Nicole would confront her about it.

So Ida kissed her. That surprised Rikki too, and she pulled back.

“Was that okay?” Ida mouthed. Rikki smiled enthusiastically— and Ida hated herself. It was nothing new, and she relished the sickening feeling it brought on. She deserved it. She was awful— a parasite, and all she did was use people for her own ends.

Ida kissed Rikki again, and realized that she didn’t have a heart at all anymore. Just a black ball of lead, made up of thousands of tight metal chords, all tangling up with each other inside her. They tightened in her chest as she went on kissing her.

She felt nothing but her self loathing, but Rikki seemed oblivious, apparently fooled by her kisses.

Ida opened her eyes, still kissing Rikki, and saw Sylvie across the club’s floor.

The look on Sylvie’s face surprised her. It wasn’t anger as she would have expected— and if she were being honest, she’d chosen this club, hoping Sylvie would see her kissing someone else; that she would finally get the message that Ida didn’t care, that she was moving on.

Even if they’d been together just the previous night, in Sylvie’s bed.

No, Sylvie looked hurt, and though it hurt Ida on some level, it satisfied some sick need in her— made her hate herself all the more, and that despair was what she was craving. It was as close as she could come to oblivion. Freedom from the burden of what she was and what she did. Sylvie could give oblivion to her with a few key words, but Ida needed to get it from sources other than Sylvie now. For the moment, this was the best she could do.

Ida would probably never feel “right” again— she knew that now. But mindless oblivion was good enough for her in substitute, and this indulged despair was as close as she could come.

She kissed Rikki with more fervor, eyes still on Sylvie, and she saw Sylvie’s jaw clench before she turned away, leaving.

The song changed, to a much quieter one, and Ida could actually hear the ambient noise of the club again.

She pulled back. “Wow,” said Rikki.

“Just give me a minute,” Ida said. “I’ve got to go freshen up.” She didn’t, but she needed to be alone. Her despair was starting to overwhelm her, and she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She needed some time alone to clear her head.

“I’ll just be at the bar,” Rikki said, with a smile. “Do you want anything?”

Ida just shook her head, and headed for the bathroom.

Sylvie stopped her before she passed through the door.

“What are you doing? I thought you left.” Ida’s voice was flat, emotionless— tired. As lifeless as she was feeling.

“You didn’t want me to leave,” Sylvie said, her voice low and seductive, with just a hint of danger, just the beginning of a threat. Ida could feel her skin burning for her already.

No, she thought. Not here. It’s done, it’s over. The fact that I’m here with Rikki proves that it’s over.

“You don’t know what I want,” Ida said. “Now let me get by you.”

Sylvie caught her by the wrist. “I beg to differ, sweetness. Judging by the way I make you scream, I’d say I know exactly what you want.”

Ida swallowed— her cheeks were burning now too. “No. It’s done. I’m with Rikki now.”

Sylvie smiled at her, but there was no warmth in it. “Is that so?” She asked, her voice mocking. “Then why is it you were looking at me when she was kissing you?”

Ida swallowed again, feeling caught out in her lie. But she wouldn’t give Sylvie the satisfaction. She looked up at her defiantly. “Let go of my wrist.”

“Do you want me to tell you why?” Sylvie asked, ignoring her request. She was still giving her that cold smile, and Ida felt herself shivering— and it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Sylvie had been telling Ida her thoughts more and more often, lately— and her claims were becoming harder and harder to distinguish from reality. Ida worried that whatever explanation Sylvie offered next would become equally true as the others.

“Because you wanted me to punish you,” Sylvie elaborated.

“You’re wrong,” Ida said, but her words were hollow. She had been hoping to provoke her— had been disappointed to find hurt in Sylvie’s eyes and not anger. Kissing Rikki had made her feel awful, but it hadn’t been enough. I am so messed up. I’ve got to get out of here— this has to end! It was like she was conspiring against herself; provoking Sylvie even though she wanted Sylvie to leave her alone. For good. Maybe Ida didn’t want Sylvie to leave her alone as much as she thought. Maybe she still needed her to make her feel something.

But Ida wasn’t so sure that need was only from Sylvie’s influence in her head… something about it felt very much like her own self-defeating tendencies.

“I’m not wrong,” Sylvie said. “And I will play your game, Ida. But I’ll do it my way.“

Those words sent a chill down Ida’s spine, but before she could protest, she found Sylvie was dragging her away from the bathroom, leading her under the stairs to the club’s upper-level. It was slightly less visible, but they could easily be caught out. Ida looked over at Rikki— she hadn’t noticed Sylvie leading her date away— or her date going willingly.

Ida looked back to Sylvie, feeling her heart starting to race, and found Sylvie was closer than Ida remembered her being, fixing Ida with a hard, determined look— her jaw was set.

“Please,” Ida said. “Please don’t kiss me,” she pleaded.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she replied, her voice low. She shoved Ida against one of the stairs’ supporting pillars. “Can you see her from here?” She asked.

Ida checked from her newfound position— she could still see Rikki clearly, sitting at the bar with her back to Ida, drinking something.

Ida moved to look back to Sylvie, but she caught her head with her hand and turned it back. “You misunderstand— I want you to look at her. I want you to keep your eyes on her. I thought you’d learned your lesson with the last one, but apparently not. I’m happy to teach you now.”

Sylvie’s lips were right next to her ear, her head right beside Ida’s and though Ida had told Sylvie not to kiss her, she really wanted Sylvie to be nibbling her earlobe, like right now. But Sylvie clearly had other plans.

She was standing behind her, shielding her from view, giving her some dignity at least. It was more than Ida deserved, but she was grudgingly grateful for it. She kept looking at Rikki, telling herself it was to make sure that Rikki couldn’t see them, and not because she was playing along with Sylvie’s game. Not because her first impulse, when given a command by Sylvie, was to obey.

“Are you watching?” Sylvie murmured, and her voice sent a jolt of pleasure through Ida’s body.

“Yes,” Ida snapped, not wanting to give her anything.

“Then the lesson begins here,” Sylvie said, and Ida felt Sylvie’s hand on her stomach. The surprise of it caused her to close her eyes, but Sylvie shook her, pinning her more tightly against the pillar until she ached. “If you close your eyes, I stop,” she said, and Ida could tell from her tone of voice that she was serious— she wouldn’t tell her again.

“I won’t,” Ida gritted out. She looked at Rikki again, and Sylvie replaced her hand on Ida’s stomach, stroking in circles. Ida was shivering again— and Sylvie had barely started. She felt ashamed, and frustrated with herself, with her own body. It wasn’t fair that Sylvie could light her up like this, and she hated that she kept going back to her, kept playing games with her. Why did girls like Rikki have to leave her so cold?

Sylvie’s fingers snuck under the hem of Ida’s shirt and she continued her feather-light touches against her skin. “I know what you’re thinking. I know you didn’t feel anything when you were kissing her. You kissed her to prove something to yourself.” Sylvie’s fingers inched lower, but nowhere close to low enough. They found the hollow just below Ida’s stomach, and traced slowly from side to side of it.

Her other hand was on the scene now, climbing towards her left breast, still under her shirt.

“No bra tonight?” Sylvie asked, conspiratorial, momentarily distracted from her spiel, as her fingers found Ida’s nipple. Ida let out a low cry as she began stroking it lightly. “What are you going to do after this, hmm? Are you going to be able to face her, with your nipples still hard for me? Is that why you didn’t wear a bra? Did you want her to see those pretty nipples of yours? Or was it because you knew I’d find you? Because you wanted me to?”

The hope in Sylvie’s voice cut her, but she tried to ignore it, just kept staring at Rikki. She is wearing a red shirt with lace edging, she thought, trying to keep control as Sylvie began pinching her nipple.

Her other hand slipped under her skirt. “Let’s hope for your sake you’re wearing underwear,” she said, and her voice was hard and cold again. “I’m not afraid to make you come so hard it spills down your legs. I almost hope you aren’t,” She said, her voice turning vicious. “Would you be able to do it? Walk back to her, with your spendings all over you? Or would you just have to leave? Even if you did leave, plenty of people would be sure to see— regulars; they’ve seen you before, they’ll see you again. What would they think? What would Rikki think?”

Ida gasped, a low cry. It was so wrong, so twisted, so perverse, but it was making her so hot. And Sylvie was so close to her, her lips were so close to her it was heady. She could almost feel them on her skin— and every word she spoke was on a direct line straight to her pussy, even as they seemed to burrow into her brain.

Sylvie was twisting her nipple now, roughly, and her fingers reached the outside of her underwear— yes, she was wearing underwear, thank god; she hadn’t been able to remember if she was or not with Sylvie speaking to her this way, touching her this way. But thank god, thank god, she was.

“Lucky,” Sylvie breathed. “Don’t think I’ll go any easier on you,” she said. She trailed her fingers along the outside of Ida’s mound, refusing to duck under the cloth of her panties just yet. It was torturous— she was working her nipple so hard, but barely using her other hand at all, having returned to those feather-light touches that drove Ida insane. Ida wanted Sylvie to be touching her with both hands, using both hands, but this was Sylvie’s game. She had to take what she could get.

Sylvie switched tactics, pulling on Ida’s nipple now, making it sore, and Ida let out a moan. “Careful, sweetness.” Sylvie said. “You wouldn’t want anyone to look over and see you like this, would you?” She pulled harder, but this time Ida managed to hold in her gasping, though she could feel it burning in her chest.

With two fingers, Sylvie parted Ida’s slit roughly, and Ida felt herself leak into Sylvie’s hand a bit. Her fingers were rough against Ida’s sensitive skin, but she needed it— oh god, she needed more.

“Tell me I don’t know what you want,” Sylvie remarked, smugly, from over her shoulder. “We both know it’s a lie. You want this. You want it exactly like this.“

Ida knew, in her mind, that she was still looking at Rikki, but she felt like she couldn’t see anymore— Sylvie was stroking her now, chafing her fingers against her folds and delving slowly deeper, while her other hand kept pulling on her nipple. Her mind was going fuzzy just the way Sylvie had trained her. The only that existed was the pleasure, now, and everything else was getting so far away…

“Why do you lie to yourself?” Sylvie asked, and it surprised her, but not enough to bring her back to herself. “You try to force yourself to be happy with nice girls like Rikki, and the last one, whatever her name was—“

Jane, Ida provided silently, the thought of her name like a knife twisting in her heart: and didn’t believe for one second that Sylvie had really forgotten it. To be honest, there had been a charge between her and Sylvie before that night when they’d actually gotten together. She’d known Sylvie before Jane— and the charge had been there then. It had been there through Ida’s entire relationship with her. The two of them had been dancing around it for years, and once her relationship with Jane had started, Ida had often had the feeling that Sylvie was orbiting around it… always waiting for her chance… undressing Ida with her eyes when she could…

Ida realized Sylvie was still speaking.

“— but they’ll never make you happy. They take you at face value— the innocent little good girl; but we both know you’re so much more than that. There’s darkness in you, and it must be fed. They can never feed it.”

She was pumping her fingers in and out of Ida now, and still torturously dragging on her nipple, and it was taking everything Ida had not to cry out.

“Picture going home with Rikki,” Sylvie whispered, and fresh jolt of heat went straight to her pussy. Her clit was practically burning with the need to be touched, but Sylvie was ignoring it completely, just driving her fingers in and out of her.

“If you felt empty kissing her, you would have felt even less with her fucking you. She could never make you feel like this— she could never fuck you like I fuck you. She’d be polite, and gentle, and hesitant and you’d be crying out for more, harder, faster the whole time— and she could never give it to you. Just like Jane never gave it to you.”

At the first use of Jane’s name, Sylvie’s other hand dropped from her nipple, and tapped her clit lightly, once. Ida’s hips bucked forward, demanding more, but she didn’t give it to her— at least, not yet.

It was low to bring up Jane, but it was effective. To actually speak her name. Sylvie hadn’t forgotten it, after all. She’d only saved it, to maximize its effectiveness.

It had been a brilliant strategy. The wrongness of it was intoxicating.

“You told me when I had you under— ” Sylvie went on, and Ida found herself shaking against the pillar. Sylvie’s other hand had returned, and she was just resting a finger on her clit now, not moving it. Ida rubbed herself against her, trying to create friction of her own, trying to get Sylvie to move, but it only served to frustrate her further.

“You told me while you were tranced. You loved Jane, but she just didn’t do it for you. You had to finish yourself alone— she couldn’t do it for you. She didn’t understand. You need it rough.“

Ida wasn’t prepared for it, but at that last statement, Sylvie let loose, working her viciously. With one hand, she relentlessly rubbed her clit, pressing it so hard that Ida thought she was going to see stars, and with the other, she plowed deeper, adding a third finger, stretching Ida further than was comfortable.

“Don’t lose control of your voice, sweetness,” Sylvie reminded her, sensing she was close, and Ida bit down on her lip, hard— she felt the skin break, felt a trickle of blood, but she didn’t make a sound. She was burning with pleasure, crying out for release internally, trembling against the pillar as Sylvie continued her onslaught. Ida knew her eyes were open, because she was seeing lights, and colors, and an out-of-focus woman in a red shirt with lace-edging still a long ways away, but none of it was making sense to her. The only thing that made sense was the way Sylvie was touching her.

Sylvie only pressed harder, and Ida thought she was going to scream. She’d found that place inside her that was so good, so delicious, that she always seemed to find her way back to, and she knew exactly how to touch her there. Ida started shuddering, shaking back into her, as she began to come undone.

She felt Sylvie press a kiss against her cheek. “It’s alright, Ida. I’ve got you. You can let yourself loose for me.”

It was enough— Sylvie’s permission unlocked it in her mind. It was finally enough to satisfy her, and she came hard, clenching down on Sylvie’s fingers, riding them, pressing her body into hers. She rode her hand for what felt like forever— the waves of pleasure just kept crashing over her, and her eyes went completely out of focus. She didn’t know if they were open or closed anymore, didn’t know what she was seeing; but she was feeling everything so vividly. She could only pray that they were open— or that if they were shut, Sylvie would show her mercy. The thought of Sylvie pulling away from her now was too cruel to contemplate.

She didn’t, and gradually, her touches became more gentle, easing Ida down from the great height she’d climbed to. Sylvie pressed her face into Ida’s neck, still touching her lightly, almost soothingly, and her face was wet against her neck. Ida worried, then. Worried that Sylvie was going to turn soft on her, express devotion she didn’t want to hear. Clearly she’d started crying at some point. She wanted Sylvie to be cold to her— she couldn’t handle the warmth.

Luckily when Sylvie spoke, there was no trace of sensitivity. Ida’s eyes slid to her, her body partially turning to follow their lead. There was no trace of sensitivity in Sylvie’s expression, either.

“Rikki could never make you come like that. Jane never made you come like that. Jill Nice Girl just isn’t going to cut it for you, Ida. You need a partner with an edge— you need someone who can match your darkness with their own. Someone who knows how to make you come undone, who can do it properly. Thus ends the lesson,” She finished, and her hands were gone. Ida was left panting against the pillar.

“You need me, and the sooner you admit it to yourself, the happier you will be,” She continued, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her sleek jacket.

Ida’s eyes refocused, and her sense came back to her, chasing her trance away. Oh god, that was so wrong. Why did I let it happen again?

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ida protested.

Sylvie flashed her an evil grin. “If you sleep with Rikki, she’ll think you’re all wet for her. But it’ll still be for me. And I think if you do sleep with her, you will come. But it’ll be because you’re thinking of me, remembering the way I touched you, the things I said— “

Sylvie hands were on her again, creeping down towards her pussy again. Ida caught them, pushed her back. “It isn’t true,” she snapped. “I don’t need you. I won’t be thinking of you. I’m with Rikki.”

She saw something flash, fire in Sylvie’s eyes. Sylvie forced her back against the pillar then, and she shoved her lips on to hers, demanding, hot, angry in a claiming kiss. It was enough to make Ida’s head spin.

Sylvie was the one to break it off that time, and she was once more panting heavily.

“That’s what I thought,” Sylvie said, her voice disdainful. And just like that, she left her. Walked straight out of the club. The nerve!

Ida went back to Rikki then, needed Rikki to distract her now, more than ever, needed her to put Sylvie out of her mind.

“Sorry I took so long. Can we get out of here?” She asked, desperate to prove Sylvie wrong, desperate for Rikki to prove her wrong.

They went back to Rikki’s place, and Ida didn’t waste any time, stripping them both, and kissing her hard. Rikki couldn’t seem to believe her luck, and Ida tried, really she did, to focus on her.

But Sylvie was right. When Rikki touched her, all she could feel was Sylvie— and when Rikki spoke, all she could hear was Sylvie’s voice. And when she came, it was with Sylvie’s lips against her ear, telling her that she had her, and that she was never letting go.