The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Study

Timothy’s balls seemed to be noticeably heavier from weeks without sexual release. I guess one might have thought me odd for enslaving a gay Adonis and leaving him—and myself—sexually unfulfilled. But my object in Timothy had never really been sex but control.

After studying my magical texts for several hours, I decided to risk removing the enslavement charm for a few moments to better assess its role in Timothy’s enslavement.

I found Timothy at the top of the stairs and I locked the door behind me. He was waiting patiently and I invited him up to the bedroom. I sized up the situation in one of the many mirrors that lined all the walls—and the ceiling—of my bedroom: Timothy was three times as strong as me and could easily beat the living daylights out of me.

In the mirror, my frailer frame seemed dwarfed by his thick, strong arms and chiseled chest. I decided to risk the situation nonetheless and told him that I wanted to examine his necklace for a few moments.

Timothy kneeled down, his eyes at my crotch level and I inserted the special pin key into the necklace and unlocked it with relative ease. I was not sure what to expect, but I had my wand hand at ready.

“How do you feel Timothy,” I asked politely.

He seemed to shake his head as if he was coming out of a hypnotic trance and looked up at me slightly disoriented. “What am I doing here,” he asked.

“Relax,” I said, “this is your house and I just was inspecting your necklace for a minute. Can you stay kneeling for me for a few more minutes?”

“Uh, sure,” he said.

I inspected the inside of the collar closely. The engraving I had made had come off and the collar was smooth as when Mr. S had shipped it to me. Although a certain fog was lifting off the slave’s mind, he was bound to me. I firmly took his head and tilted it up and examined his neck more closely. The runic markings previously engraved on the collar were now emblazoned on his neck.

Release for Me

I decided to leave the collar off for a while and see whether the enslavement charm had worked its way fully into Timothy.

I asked Timothy to stand up and asked him to massage my feet. He waited patiently for me to lay down on the bed and then began to rub my feet. First with his hands and then with his tongue.

The sensations overwhelmed me and I found myself stroking my cock. I told Timothy to stand and watch but not to touch his own cock which was standing at full mast. My perfect Adonis was my complete slave now even without a collar. There was no going back for him. Yes, perhaps a powerful wizard or witch could release him from the enslavement charm, but such a wizard, well would one even exist?

At the thought of my complete power over Timothy, my body exploded in orgasm. My cock rocketed cum across my smooth chest and Timothy just had to stand and watch. I was certain that what little willpower he had left was struggling to come out and express itself. His cock seemed to be straining in the air for release.

“Take an icy cold shower Timothy,” I said politely to which he immediately responded by leaving for the bathroom.

I lay in bed and massaged my cum into my smooth, scrawny chest. By the time Timothy came out of the shower his cock was flaccid but he seemed unbowed from the cold shower. My cum was dry on my chest and I stood up and handed him his collar and the key and told him to leave the collar on except when necessary to remove—e.g. airport security.

That afternoon I sat with Timothy and began destroying all but a few remains of his prior identity. Bank accounts closed. Fake identity created in Belgium through some less than reputable friends. With that the last shreds of Timothy’s old life faded away. We got him a new driver’s license in his fake name and I locked up his driver’s license and birth certificate in my study and that was that.

Timothy Baldwin was dead and Gareth Pfrommer was born.

Egypt

Gareth’s new identity did not raise any eyebrows as we arrived in Cairo for a trip to my dig. My parents enjoyed meeting Gareth and remarked that he was “handsome”. Outside of town we were staying in tents and the two of us would have to share with my parents.

Gareth took a few moments of privacy between our arrival and dinner to reattach the collar. My parents eagerly showed me some small tablets that they had found in the past few weeks in the hopes that I could translate them. The tablets did not appear to be hieroglyphic.

Gareth joined us and asked if there was any way he could help in the cooking. My parents pointed towards a tent further away from where the three of us were gathered and then went on discussing the tablet.

Gareth wandered off at which point my parents started asking about how long we had been dating. I smiled and said “we were not dating and that Gareth was here as my personal assistant.”

The conversation ended there and I returned to examining the tablets.

By the time Gareth and one of the local researchers returned with dinner the conversation was completely focused on the tablets and their origin.

The local researcher’s theory was that the tablets were modern, perhaps dating from the mid-to-late 1800 hundreds and were “Western” in origin. I tended to concur since the runes seemed Celtic in origin. The fact was that the tablets were simple personal wards, but I was at a loss to explain their presence in Egypt.

In our tent for the night Gareth stripped naked without inhibition in front of my parents and then lay down on top of his sleeping bag to go to sleep.

My mom laughed a bit and asked if she could talk to me privately.

We walked away from the tent with my mom towards the pyramids. “Wendell, enslavement charms are a bit over top don’t you think?”

I was taken aback.

“Lumos,” my mother incanted and lighted the darkness in front of us.

“I gave you that magic book to pass on the magical traditions not so you could make some boy toy,” she continued somewhat dismissively.

I nodded sheepishly.

Then a strange smile crossed her face, “I should perhaps reverse it but he does seem quite happy to have lost his identity.”

“So you gave me the magic books?”

“Of course,” she said laughing heartily.

“Is dad?”

She nodded.

“Are there others?”

“Most of the friends you knew growing up.”

“So the whole thing with Gareth would be over the top?”

“No,” she said and then paused before continuing, “just in incredibly crass. But nobody will much mind. Most of our parents had personal slaves.”

“Fallen out of fashion in the twentieth century?”

“Exactly,” she said, “slavery is seen as cruel, but as you see that boy you brought is happier than a magpie to be owned and loved by you.”

“Lumos,” I incanted lighting my wand as we got further from the encampment.

“Have you started studying the teleportation spells,” my mom said switching the subject.

“I have been reading about apparation but haven’t managed to get the hang of it,” I answered.

“Well if you do it will make some of the oddities of your travel less visible to ordinary people.”

I nodded.

“So are you going to tell me what the tablets mean since I know full well that you are more familiar with the Celtic runes than either dad or I.”

“They are simple personal wards, the thing I don’t understand is why they are here. My studies of the magical arts to date would suggest that those wards would have been commonly used only among a small group of magic users in England during the late sixteen hundreds.”

My mom nodded and added, “Dad and I are concerned that they are more recent than the locals suspect and that a local religious group opposed to some of our work has been hexing them in an effort to stop the excavation.”

My mind turned the words on the tablet over in my mind, “Exactly!”

“What,” my mother asked.

“Nox,” I incanted, extinguishing my light as a darted back to the campsite.

My mom followed at my heels and when we reached the campsite I picked up the tablet and incanted “Aparecium.” A second layer of writing appeared on the tablet, this one in Coptic runes of more modern usage.

Curses

The curse was simple enough and would explain some of the odd mishaps and clumsiness around the site. But as my mom quickly realized, without serious magical intervention, the site would become a major catastrophe. She was also a touch dumbfounded by her failure to recognize the hidden curse within the tablet.

We decided to go to sleep and I found myself feeling some guilt for my decision to enslave Timothy—nay, Gareth.

I lay down and fell into a deep sleep.

In my dreams I saw Timothy performing oral sex on me.

My mom found excuses to get all of the locals away from the site the next day and she, my dad and I removed the curses and set up our own wards against future mishaps.

Gareth was clearly bored without a gym to go to daily and without my regular needs to attend to. I decided to send him back to the states with instructions to work out, lay a hardwood floor in my bedroom, and get his ass whipped by a different top each weekend without cumming.

Gareth headed back and I dug my way into the past. My parents showed me how to use apparation and so I was able to visit Gareth frequently during the rest of the summer.

On each visit his buttocks and backside were shockingly red from his encounters with different tops. I would periodically “freeze” him to confirm that he was not particularly enjoying getting his ass whipped and not being permitted to achieve orgasm.

Somehow that made me feel better and less inadequate as if it made up for all of the stuck up guys who put me down for being scrawny.

Gareth no longer had birthdays as such but his six month anniversary as my slave was quick approaching.

I apparated back to the states for the occasion. I picked up a cake and had it waiting for Gareth when he got back from the gym.

He had managed to get the floor about 80% finished already and we enjoyed the cake together. For the first time since I had placed the slave collar on him six months ago he spoke without prompting, “Sir, do I displease you in some way that you do not have sex with me?”

I brought him close to me and hugged him. “No, but I am not interested in pleasing you either.”

He nodded, seeming to understand his own predicament. He started, “Can I...” but stopped himself in mid sentence.

“Is there something you need?”

“No,” he said shaking his head, “how did you hurt that master’s boy back in the club the other night?”

I smiled, “as long as you behave you have no need to fear such a punishment.”

He looked down bashfully.

I kissed him on the forehead. “Go ahead.”

“I was in the shower at the gym yesterday and one of the guys grabbed my dick in the shower and I just shot my load.” He looked as though he wanted to sink into the floorboards.

I hugged him tightly and guided him up to the guest bedroom. He was waiting for punishment and I gave him a small amount of the truth serum he had received his first night. He had told me the truth and had been dreading the moment of my return for that moment of indiscretion at the hands of a grubby complete stranger.

I explained that I wanted him to invite the stranger over so that punishment could be administered to the appropriate guilty party. If Gareth could bring the true offender to the house next Sunday then he would be spared the rod.

Gareth snuggled against me and kissed my cheek.