The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

TITLE: The Mark of Power

CATEGORIES: (mc, nc, mf, ff, md, ma)

SUMMARY: Devon Scott is given a supernatural power as a gift for a good deed, marking him with heavenly favor. He soon learns that the gift marks him in more ways than one.

DISCLAIMER: This story involves supernatural power over the minds and wills of others. The ability to warp another person’s will without their agreement is by definition non-consensual. If you find that offensive, read no further. This is a work of fiction. Any similarities between the characters, events, or locations in this story and actual locations, events, or people are purely coincidental. If you enjoyed this story so far, or have any suggestions for improving it, I welcome your email comments to

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“They say that no good deed goes unpunished. Though for those who may learn of my story, and of the power I was given, it may not seem much of a punishment. However there is another saying, or rather a law, which states for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. A yin for every yang. In such a way, my gift was in equal measures a curse. “

Excerpt from the diary of Devon Scott

PART 1

Devon was in his mid forties when his life was remarkably and irrevocably changed. Prior to that time there was not much remarkable to tell about him. He was no more, and no less than an average American male living a life mapped out by society. Educated, and working for a large corporation, another faceless cog in the giant machine. Married and divorced twice – most recently in a bitter split that left a bad taste in his mouth a virtually non-existent sex drive and a wish to never have to deal with a relationship again.

Devon had tried hard to be a good husband, but he always felt something missing in him which ultimately doomed his efforts. He was not particularly religious, though he certainly liked to think he held himself to a moderately high standard of morality, ex-wife’s opinion non-withstanding. Thanks to daily trips to the gym he took a general pride in his physique, but his average height, light brown hair and darker brown eyes made him blend in. Nothing remarkable at all.

That was to change on an early September night. Devon was hiking back down to his car from a weekend of hermit like solitude camping in the Rocky Mountain back country. He would never forget that night, as he had gotten a late start down the mountain and found himself still only half way down the trail by the time the sun had set. He remembered the night being mild, and well lit by the full moon. The air was very still, as if nature was holding her breath.

Moving easily down the moonlit trail, Devon noticed a flickering light as he topped a ridge. It was perhaps 200 yards off the main trail in what appeared to be a clearing in the trees. Judging from the way the light was shifting there was little doubt the source was a large campfire. That conclusion caused a bit of a pause in Devon. This part of the forest was very rarely traveled, especially at this time of year, and the late summer forest was dry as tinder.

Moving along the ridge to get a better look, he confirmed that it was indeed a large bonfire. Several figures, small dark silhouettes against the bright flames, were arranged in a circle about it. Relieved that at least the fire was attended, even though it was a bad idea this time of year, Devon turned to head back towards the trail. As he did however, he heard a woman’s terrified short cry.

His heart thumping, Devon shrugged off his pack and moved quietly through the trees toward the camp, hoping that whoever these people were they were playing some sort of practical joke on the woman. As much as he would like to convince himself that was the case and keep going down the trail, Devon was not the kind of person who could turn a blind eye without making sure.

Before long he was within thirty yards of the clearing, and a cold sweat formed on his brow. If this was some sort of prank it was elaborate as hell. Half a dozen figures were garbed in dark crimson hooded robes, and they were swaying back and forth in the circle about the fire, their female voices chanting in a language Devon couldn’t recognize.

Circling the clearing a bit, he saw what must have been the leader of the robed women, standing behind a large low flat slab of rock. Unlike the others her robe was pulled open to reveal her hairless naked body beneath. Glistening sweat reflected off her swaying breasts as she led the chant. But it was what was lying on the rock slab that drew Devon’s attention most, and chilled him to the bone. A young woman, naked, bound and gagged in a fetal position.

Devon stood frozen unsure of what to do, watching as the woman appeared to be calling out to something. He could feel power in the air, palpable, growing, making the hairs on his body stand up. It was not until the leader of the group drew a dagger from her robe, holding it over the helpless girl on the stone, that Devon finally acted. And when he did so, it was by instinct. He simply ran forward, as fast as his legs could propel him.

Before the women in the circle had time to react he was past them, his focus on the descending dagger. The air seemed to howl as he plunged on, ducking his head, his shoulder slamming hard into the knife holding leader, knocking her off her feet, the dagger flying free of her hand and hitting the ground with a soft thump.

The panicked scream of the leader cut short as her wind was knocked out. The surprised cries of the other women were barely audible above the howling of power in the clearing, scattering them. Struggling for breath, Devon crawled off the leader and to the alter where the terrified girl lay bound, her blue eyes wide with terror. As he did so, a large shadow passed over him and he instinctively shielded the girl with his body.

An unearthly howl of anger assaulted Devon’s senses, forcing him to close his eyes in pain. Soon, the cries of surprise from the women turned into blood chilling screams heard even above the howling wind. Devon could not say how long the horrible sounds went on, but it seemed like an eternity before it stopped.

Lifting his head cautiously, Devon opened his eyes. The bonfire had been snuffed out like a candle. Of the robed women there was no trace. Only he and the bound girl remained in the clearing, soft moonlight bathing them, along with a sweet cool breeze. Heart hammering, Devon managed to find the dagger in the grass, and cut the now unconscious girl loose from the leather straps binding her.

As he was about to lift her from the stone, the moonlight in the clearing grew brighter and Devon startled as a gentle female voice spoke. “Who are you, man, to have interrupted those who would call upon my power in the ancient ways?”

Devon swallowed hard and looked up. Before him, glowing in the moonlight was a woman of indescribable beauty. Her nearly translucent body shimmered, a gossamer gown flowing over but not concealing her dark areolae or the triangle between her creamy thighs. Her skin was glowing bluish white, and her hair was loose and flowing like a silver stream. He felt he really must be dreaming all of this. The robed women, the sacrifice, and now this. “Devon..” He answered as one might in a dream.

“Devon..” She repeated his name as if tasting it “Do you know what you have done?”

Devon shook his head slowly “She.. was in danger.. I couldn’t let them hurt her”

The ephemeral vision of beauty smiled though her eyes were hard. “They sought to call upon me as it was in times before, through the blood of sacrifice, to claim some of my power for themselves. It is an unwelcome call that I cannot ignore. You broke the ritual and they paid for that with their lives.”

Her words began to sink into him.. his action, his protecting the girl had doomed them? “I didn’t know..” his voice came out as a mere whisper.

The goddess, for there was no other word that fit her, looked at him her eyes softening to deep pools of moonlight. “Do not trouble yourself, Devon. They wished my power for no noble purpose, and were willing to kill an innocent to obtain it. You have done me and your world a great deed. Though I am afraid you will forever be marked by the action you have taken this night.”

Devon shook his head as if trying to wake from a dream. “I don’t understand.. what do you mean.. marked?” he finally managed.

“Once I am summoned, I must bestow the power that I was called upon for. It cannot be otherwise, though it is a gift you may not wish. I must trust in your nature to do more good than harm with it.”

“What power?” Devon asked, his mind still reeling from trying to take all of this in.

“It is better that I not tell you. You shall learn of it on your own soon enough.” She said simply.

Devon wanted to ask a million questions, but instead he looked down at the girl who now clung to him, silently weeping against his chest. “What about her?”

“She is mine for now, Devon. Fear not, for she will not come to harm. You will come to understand that she is very precious to me.” So saying, a beam of moonlight bathed the girl and both she and the ethereal woman slowly faded away. Devon was left speechless in the clearing, the dagger held tightly in his hand the only evidence the event had happened at all.

Devon never spoke to anyone about what had happened that night. After all who would believe him? In fact if it were not for the dagger he would not have believed it himself. He still kept it with him, though the power the goddess supposedly granted him didn’t seem to make his life any different.

He went back to his routine, and had mostly forgotten about it, until a month later.