The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Carice smiled down at Meghan. This is going to work perfectly, she thought. And if we happen to have some late nights together, well—

She was interrupted by the sudden appearance of their Master. That was no surprise—he teleported in and out frequently. What was surprising was that he was on his knees, a hand clutching his chest, and was that blood dripping between his fingers?

“Master!” Carice shouted, and knelt immediately next to him. She reached for him slowly, unsure what to do.

He began coughing violently. Blood and spittle spewed from his mouth across the carpet—and then, with one last cough, a pair of bullets followed.

Janelle and Jessica weren’t quite as fast to reach him as Carice had been, but they were by his side now, too. “He’s barely conscious,” Carice told them.

“Jessica, call 911!” Janelle snapped. “We have to—”

“No,” said Carice.

“What?” Janelle was stunned. “How can you—”

“There’s magic working here,” she said. “I feel it. Powerful magic, incredibly powerful. He’s healing.”

“From that?” Janelle replied incredulously. “You don’t just heal from being shot!“

“You don’t,” replied Carice. “I don’t.” Yet. “Master does.” She concentrated on the flow of energy in him, feeling how it repaired and sustained his body. She didn’t understand it, but she could see it, and could feed it power...

“There has to be something we can do!” Jessica moaned.

“There is,” replied Carice. “All of you put your hands on me.”

Janelle, Jessica, and Meghan did. That’s right, Carice thought. You’re mine, Meghan. No longer drawn to help him—but you obey me. She pushed the thought aside and focused on their energy. All four women were young, healthy, alive; they generated life energy with every breath. It was a simple matter to channel that energy into their Master, to help feed the healing energies that flowed through him.

It would not have worked, should not have worked, if the spell weren’t already there, a spell beyond any Carice had ever seen or even heard of. But the spell was there already, and it was made to absorb energy from somewhere. Carice needed only add to that flow.

Feiticeiro opened his eyes. “Yes,” he said weakly. “I would have healed eventually regardless, but you have accelerated the process. Well done.”

Three of the women present squirmed in pleasure. Carice noticed that he hadn’t actually made them feel it; they were all just that used to enjoying his praise. She noticed with equal interest that Meghan wasn’t affected; she was watching Carice intently, barely seeming to notice her erstwhile Master.

“Carice,” Feiticeiro said. “I require your assistance. I wish to retire to my sanctum for a time.”

Carice’s ears perked. A sanctum? That could be just what I’m looking for! “Yes, Master,” she replied dutifully.

Still weak, he guided her through the process of setting up a spell to transport him there. “It is a place unfamiliar to you,” he said. “So you will need to craft symbolic constructs to channel the teleportation.”

Carice nodded and listened closely as he described the magical circle she would need to draw, the precise incense she would need to burn, and the words she would need to chant. All told, it took half an hour to set everything up, and then only an instant to flick with him across the dimensions.

His sanctum was much as she’d expected. Furniture and walls alike were made of dark wood, finely carved. A low fire flickered redly; thick rugs covered the floor, complex designs woven into them—aesthetic, magical, or both, Carice couldn’t be sure.

She helped him into bed, and listened while he gave her instructions to convey to his other slaves. Then, he slept, with every appearance of someone who intended to do so for quite some time.

She flicked back to the Mayor’s office. Something about the sanctum made teleporting to and from there easier, now that she knew it—a fact that she intended to use.

To better serve Master, of course! she assured herself, and it was entirely true.

She sought out Janelle first. There were orders to obey, and that had to be her top priority. “Master says the woman who shot him is on campus. We have the bullets. Send the police to find the gun, and the person who used it.”

Janelle scrambled to obey, and Carice sought out Meghan. “Ready?” she asked.

Meghan nodded eagerly. “Yes, Mistress. Where do we start?”

Carice smiled as she placed her hands on Meghan’s arms. “Why, Master’s sanctum, of course!” And then, with a flicker, the world around them was gone, replaced by the sanctum.

Meghan looked around wildly at the walls. “Where are we?” she asked.

“Other than Master’s sanctum, I’m not entirely sure,” Carice replied. “I’m not even certain it’s part of the world as we know it.”

“Wow,” said Meghan. She turned away from Carice to examine the carvings on the walls. “So what’s the plan, Mistress?”

Carice ran one finger slowly down the back of Meghan’s neck, and smiled as she saw Meghan shiver. She stepped up behind the petite reporter and wrapped her arms around her, then whispered in her ear, “First thing, we’re going to find a library.”

Finding the library proved relatively easy. Most of the sanctum, it seemed, was library. The bigger problem was finding what they were looking for, especially as Carice wasn’t entirely certain what it was.

“Something that would tell us more about Master,” Carice said, thinking out loud. “His goals, his plans... what he’s trying to achieve and why.”

“You mean like a journal, Mistress?” Meghan asked. She smiled and held out a thick, leather-bound book to Carice.

Carice opened it and smiled. It was full of handwritten entries, neatly dated. “You don’t by any chance read Latin, do you?” she asked Meghan. “I do, but—”

“It’s been a long time Mistress. If I had a dictionary, I probably could, but I don’t know if there’s one here.”

Carice pulled out her phone. “Oh good,” she said. “I have data. Check if you do?”

Meghan checked as well. “How is that possible? This place is all stone, even if it’s near a tower—”

“Like I said, I’m not even sure this is the Earth. But I’m also not sure we’ve actually gone anywhere in the normal spatial sense, so.” Carice shrugged. “As far as our phones are concerned, we’re still in Janelle’s office.”

“I won’t pretend to understand, Mistress, but I guess this means I can look up a Latin dictionary.” Meghan smiled up at her owner.

“And that’s why you’ll be looking through Master’s journals, while I look at the magical tomes,” Carice replied. She took a step closer to Meghan, and took the shorter woman’s chin in her hand, tilting her face up to look in her eyes. “And with every lead you find to who Master is, what he’s after, and why, you’ll know you are serving me, and your pleasure and arousal will increase, won’t it?”

Meghan shivered and licked her suddenly dry lips. “Yes, Mistress.”

“But you won’t cum until I tell you, will you?”

Meghan squirmed. “No, Mistress, not until you tell me.”

“Good girl,” Carice said, her voice dripping with dark honey. “Now let’s get to work.”

They searched for about twenty minutes, Carice browsing the spellbooks that occupied most of the shelves, while Meghan leafed through the journal, occasionally checking the Latin dictionary on her phone.

Meghan was the first to find something. In the middle of a journal entry from a year ago, a word that wasn’t in Latin, but rather something she didn’t read—Chinese, Japanese, something along those lines. She grinned and squirmed as she read the entry, the intellectual pleasure of finding a lead flowing into the sexual pleasure of serving her Mistress.

Speaking of. “Mistress!” she called. “I think I found something.“

Carice came quickly, holding a grimoire. “What is it, my good girl?” she asked, and Meghan squirmed.

“I’m not sure what this is,” she said, pointing at the unfamiliar word. “From context, it’s a noun. And the next sentence, ‘At times I despair of ever finding her.’ I’m pretty sure that’s the her he writes about. So this word is a person, probably?“

Carice smiled. “Good work,” she said. “So the girl he’s been having us look for, she’s his primary goal?”

“Seems like it,” said Meghan. “I’m just not sure why.”

Carice stroked Meghan’s cheek. “Then keep searching. There’s a whole shelf of journals. I’m sure what we’re looking for is in here somewhere... and you’re very motivated to find it, aren’t you?“

Meghan whimpered. “Yes, Mistress,” she said softly, and threw herself back into looking.

Maybe he started the journals with the project, she thought, and went looking for the oldest one. Her jaw dropped when she saw just how old it was. “Four hundred years?” she exclaimed. “That’s—” She flipped through it and soon found the same short sequence of ideograms she’d been looking for.

“Oooh,” she said, as she read the passages on either side, squirming in pleasure. Mistress is going to love this.

“Near as I can tell,” she reported soon after, “he’s the latest in what must be a line of people looking for this person. They’ve been looking for centuries, so I’m guessing it passes through generations somehow? I mean, the girl we were looking for wasn’t four hundred!”

Carice smiled. “No, she wasn’t. Could it be a prophecy of some sort? They’ve been looking for a particular girl and never found her?”

“I don’t think so,” Meghan replied. “The first appearance in the journals is about making her. Look here, this symbol shows up alone a little earlier: ‘combining the alchemy from my father and...’ Then there’s the symbol, then ‘from my mother.’ That same symbol is part of the... phrase, I guess? That keeps showing up later on, the one that we think is ‘her.’“

“Hmm,” said Carice. “I think I’ve seen that symbol somewhere. Keep reading, I think we’re close!”

Meghan gasped as her Mistress’ praise flowed over her like a caressing hand. “Yes, Mistress,” she managed breathlessly, and again threw herself into the reading.

She noticed the handwriting was very similar between all the journals, but that wasn’t that surprising—they didn’t seem like four-hundred-year-old books. Feiticeiro must have recopied them. But flipping through some of the middle volumes, she found accounts of traveling all over the world on the tail of this girl. But if they made her, why wouldn’t they know where she is?

Perhaps they lost her. Meghan’s trained reporter’s intuition twigged onto that thought, and she knew immediately it was the key. She closed her eyes and briefly imagined her Mistress’ satisfaction, the reward coming once Meghan finally understood it all. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself and bit her lip at the visions of pleasure dancing in her mind’s eye. But I have to find the answer to get that, she reminded herself, and again turned to the journals. She needed to find the point at which the loss occurred.

That took well over an hour. To her surprise, the symbols she was looking for didn’t appear in the entry she needed, which is why it took so long—but there was no question of it. “She is gone,” Meghan read out loud to her Mistress after calling her over. “It should never have happened, but the Beast caught us off guard. It took her, and the power left her. As it has before, but this time the Beast dropped her from a great height. She fell and did not rise. She is gone, and all our years of work were for naught.”

“Oh,” said Carice. “I think... I think I’m starting to get it. Look at this.”

She handed Meghan a book. On the title page, it had a series of symbols that included the ones she’d identified as the girl, and underneath, presumably a translation of those symbols into Latin. Meghan traced her fingers over one phrase in the Latin. “Puella magicis,” she read aloud. “Magical girl.”

“I looked through it,” Carice said. “I don’t know much about the Japanese magical traditions, but I recognized some elements from them. I recognized a lot more of the alchemy and demonology. He was working on fusing them.”

“’Alchemy from my father and magic from my mother,’” Meghan quoted. She pulled out her phone and quickly looked something up. “The dates check out,” she said. “Portuguese traders arrived in Japan about a generation before these journals start.”

“I read through the book,” Carice said. “I don’t understand all of it, not even close. But it looks like the goal was to bind and channel the power of an angel or a demon into a human body, and then control the hybrid entity that resulted. Maybe an angel and a demon, I’m not sure.”

“Okay, wait,” said Meghan. “Angels. Demons? I mean, this is all—” she waved her hands.

“Real,” said Carice sternly. “The word you’re looking for is real. We came here by magic. Master bound me by magic, and is teaching me magic. We are in his magic library in his magic sanctum, and he enslaved you by magic prior to me taking you as my own.“

Meghan bowed her head. “Yes, Mistress,” she said, thoroughly rebuked, though part of her leapt in delight at hearing her Mistress describe her as my own.

“The one thing the book doesn’t say is why,” Carice continued. “This is powerful, dangerous magic. He must have had some kind of a goal in mind, something he needed it for.”

“I’ll find it, Mistress,” Meghan promised.

Carice bent down and kissed her softly, her lips lingering against her slave’s while Meghan’s brain filled with sparkling light. Carice straightened and said, “I know you will, my good girl. And then, you will be rewarded.”

Meghan trembled. “Yes, Mistress.”

She dove back into her work one last time. As she searched, she felt her need building and building, the same desperate need that had been her downfall once before. It felt like a lifetime ago, being captured, toyed with, claimed by the man she had briefly known as her Master. Her desperation to please remained intact, only amplified by her repeated failures to please him. Even though she no longer felt the need to please him, she could remember how it felt to disappoint him, and she wanted never to disappoint her new Mistress.

She guessed that the purpose had to be somewhere in that first volume, some statement of the problem before the first of the sorcerers figured out the magical girl as an answer. So she started at the beginning and read laboriously forward, picking her way through the Latin grammar and unfamiliar vocabulary.

It took over an hour, an hour of squirming, of feeling her body tingling with the need to be touched, the desperate desire to be used for her Mistress’ pleasure. But, she reminded herself more than once, this is how Mistress wants to use me right now. And after she found what Mistress wanted... Meghan grinned and bit her lip as she continued to search.

“Oh,” she said when she finally found it. “Oh, wow. Mistress!“

Carice returned to Meghan from the stacks of magical tomes she’d been hunting through. “Did you find something?” she asked.

“I think so,” said Meghan. “But it’s... it’s... well, listen to these bits.” She pulled out her notes and read some of the quotes she’d taken from different parts of the journal. “First there’s this: ‘She has pledged herself to love and obey me forever, and so she would if it were possible. But the rest of our lives is not forever...’ Then, later, there’s something about a pact. It’s not exactly clear who he’s bargaining with, but, ‘If I make the pact, I will at last attain the desire of the alchemists. But what purpose would that serve, were I alone? And what of the Beasts thereby released? What havoc would they wreak down the centuries?’ Which brings us to the last piece: ‘The power divine could make quick work of a beast, and a demon in turn to keep that power within a human body. Together, they would make her eternal, and so my problems solve each other.’”

“Oh,” said Carice.

“Yeah,” said Meghan. “Not a succession of sorcerers after all. Just one, who made a deal with ‘Beasts’ to be immortal. Those creatures that have been attacking the city? That’s the price for his immortality.”

“And he made his... what, his lover? Wife? Whatever, he made her this puella magicis to fight the creatures, and so she’d be immortal too. But something went wrong, and... and then what?“

“I found it in the next volume,” said Meghan. “He eventually realized that when his lover died, the angel and demon stayed bound, they just moved to another host. He’s been trying to find her ever since.”

Carice smiled. “This is exactly what I was looking for. You’ve done very well, my good girl.”

Meghan gasped. “Mistress? Does that mean...” She trembled. “Please..?”

Carice smiled. “On your knees.”

“Oh yes, Mistress,” Meghan said eagerly, scrambling to obey.

“You’ve done very well,” she said. “Now... cum.“

Meghan’s shrieks of pleasure echoed through the library. But as she was coming down, Carice smiled at her wickedly. “Cum,” she repeated, and Meghan did.

And then another order, and Meghan came again. And again. And again. She lost count somewhere in the teens, but it went on past that, until Meghan wasn’t sure whether she was pleading for more or pleading for it to stop. “Please...” she moaned. “I can’t...”

“You can and you will,” Carice replied. “Now cum.“

And Meghan did, again and again, for as long as her Mistress desired. And, even exhausted as she was, she loved every moment of it.