The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Morgan yawned, and rubbed her eyes.

She was leaning against the trunk of a tremendous old oak. It must have been two hundred years old if it was a day. It was tall, and broad, and overlooked its small hilltop like a Lord.

She’d seen it before, driving past here, but this was the first time she’d ever actually gotten out.

It was a whim, really. It was such a nice day, the sort that were all too rare in England, balmy and warm and sort of soft around the edges. Randi had wanted to get together for lunch, get some snogging in with her food, and for no reason at all Morgan suggested that they meet out here.

Normally, both she and Randi were in town for work, but Morgan had run up against her time-off allotment and so had taken the day off. So when Randi called and suggested lunch, she’d remembered this place, about halfway between the city and the flat the two of them shared, and just blurted it out.

It was easy enough to find. That abandoned house across the way was quite a landmark. Apparently it and most of the woods around here were in the National Trust, or some such thing, because otherwise they would have been paved over long ago. Or maybe some rich aristo owned them. Whichever was the case, they could hardly object to two girls having a picnic under an oak tree.

Morgan leaned over and checked the road. No sign of Randi and her Vespa. She yawned. The warm weather and the general drowsiness of the afternoon were having a decidedly soporific effect. Better to keep awake, though. She could take a nap when she got home—falling asleep out in the countryside was probably perfectly safe, but you never knew when some loonie might come stalking along.

Maybe she’d just close one eye.

Morgan reached up and scratched the back of her neck. When was Randi going to get here? She’d said one o’clock, right?

What was that?

Morgan blinked. There it was again. Something white, in the woods, moving.

She looked around. The meadow stretched off down the hill on all sides, bees buzzing, gnats flitting. The road was empty. She looked back at the woods.

Was that a person down there?

Frowning, Morgan stood up. So much for an undisturbed shag in the tall grass. She had a moment of indecision—should she play it safe, and go back to the road? She decided against, and, picnic basket in hand, she started slowly down the hill.

“Hello?” she called. She didn’t see anything now. Maybe it had been an optical illusion—no, wait. There it was again. It was a person. “Hello?”

Morgan drew closer. Whoever it was, they were staying within the forest. Hiding behind a tree. Maybe they were scared.

“Hey,” she called. “Come out.”

A face appeared from around a tree. A woman.

Morgan’s eyes widened. Whoever it was, she was very pale. Like she hadn’t been out of doors for a long time. Her hair was a light brown, and very long. And her eyes...

Her eyes were greenish, but they shimmered. As though a whole palette of green colors were sliding around inside them.

“Hi,” Morgan said. “Uh... who are you?”

The woman just looked at her. Her lips were pursed, as though she were about to kiss someone, or as though her mouth were full of marbles.

“What are you doing in the woods?” Morgan asked, stopping about ten feet away.

The woman just looked at her. Then, slowly, she stepped out from behind the tree.

Morgan gasped.

She was naked.

She was hot, too.

Morgan’s cheeks flushed as she stared. The woman was starkers, not a stitch on her. Her skin was flawless, and pale as the moon.

She also appeared to have shaved her pussy, for it was hairless as a satin pillow.

Morgan realized that the woman was moving closer.

“I, uh,” she said. “what are you doing, um, naked?” she asked. Her voice sounded stupid to her.

The woman came closer, and closer, and then stepped right up to her.

“Uh, excuse—”

The woman kissed her.

Morgan blinked, started to frown, and looked into the woman’s eyes. And lost herself. They were green, sea green, no, now they were olive, and swirling into lime...

The kiss was over. Morgan shook her head.

“Um, excuse me,” she said, holding up a hand, “but—”

She licked her lips. Then again.

What was THAT?

It tasted of honey, and of cinnamon, and sandalwood, and...

Morgan shook her head again, but the taste remained.

“Oh,” she said. “My.”

What was it?

The woman—who definitely seemed to be holding something in her mouth—smiled at her, then turned and pranced into the woods.

“Wait,” Morgan called. “Come back!”

She ran into the woods after her.

Morgan didn’t understand how she couldn’t catch up. She was in tennis shoes, and jeans, and the woman was running through the woods completely starkers. Yet Morgan caught her toes on every root and got her face slapped by every low branch, and the naked girl was somehow always ten feet ahead.

What was that TASTE?

The girl—so pale she seemed to glow in the darkness under the forest canopy—darted around a tree, and vanished. Morgan raced over.

She was gone.

Morgan sighed. She looked at the ground—there, next to the tree, the imprint of bare feet. She cast about a bit, but the leaves on the ground didn’t show any other sign of there ever having been a naked woman running around on them.

The thought grounded Morgan a little.

Was I hallucinating that? A naked woman, running around in the woods?

But her lips still tasted like...

Then there was a hand on her shoulder. Morgan turned.

It was her. Pale, and naked, and beautiful.

She was still smiling as she put her other hand on Morgan’s other shoulder.

“Excuse me,” Morgan said quietly, “but I’ve got a girlfriend.”

The woman cocked her head to the side. Her eyes shimmered. She really had incredibly beautiful eyes. Morgan felt herself being slowly pushed up against the tree, and then the eyes were coming closer.

“I—”

Then those lips were on hers, and they really did feel quite wonderful, and then there was tongue, and with the tongue came that TASTE...

Morgan shivered, and stared into those beautiful eyes, and let the tongue slither around in her mouth, spreading its magic.

Then it slid out, and ran once around Morgan’s mouth, before sliding back between those pursed lips.

Morgan was breathing hard.

The nymph—Morgan wondered if she meant that figuratively or literally—stepped back, still smiling enigmatically. Back, and then another step back, and then another. Morgan took a few steps forward. The nymph pranced back around a tree, and Morgan walked after her.

Morgan realized that the girl had her.

Helplessly, not wanting to resist but knowing she should, Morgan followed her deeper into the woods.

Without letting up her obedient pursuit of the nymph, Morgan wondered where she was. The trees were so huge. She’d been to California, and these.. oaks? were as large as the redwoods they had out there.

They couldn’t possibly exist in England.

But then, neither could naked women with magical kisses.

And then they were there. A ring of huge trees, almost a wall, trunks as large as automobiles reaching to a canopy Morgan couldn’t see, because she was unwilling to look away from the nymph.

She was so beautiful.

Morgan realized she had fallen hard in lust, and wondered how much of it was the magical kisses and how much of it was because the girl was a total hottie. Her long brown hair hung just above her ass, highlighting the smooth curves, and Morgan hungered to touch it. To lick it.

Almost as much as she hungered to suck on that mouth again.

Obediently, she followed the nymph between the huge trees, and into a circular space on the other side.

She gasped.

It was full of nymphs. Dozens of them.

They lounged around the clearing, lying on the thick moss. They were all different, here one with long black hair, straight as a ruler, there a curly-haired redhead. But they all had long hair, and they all had pale skin, and as they turned to look at Morgan she gasped again when she saw that they all had those mesmerizing green eyes.

She realized in that moment that they were nymphs.

And her nymph, the one who had found her, had taken center stage. Now that she was in the midst of such a panoply of nude flesh, Morgan realized how unique her nymph was, with those dusty brown eyebrows and those pale nipples, capping her breasts like snow on a mountain.

Morgan longed to suck on them.

The nymph was coming towards her.

Morgan whined as She stopped just in front of her. Her hand reached out to Morgan’s chin, drawing her near, lowering her. Helen’s hands reached out to Her waist for support as she was lowered, and the feel of her hands on that waist sent a shiver of lust through her. She wanted to go further down, to bury her face in that smooth snatch, but she was under the nymph’s control now, and would go only where she was directed.

Which was under the nymph’s face, for a kiss. Their lips touched, and the nymph’s tongue slid into Morgan’s mouth, and there it was again. The Taste. But this time, the fingers on her chin pulled Morgan’s mouth more open, and Her mouth opened too, and whatever it was that She had been keeping in her mouth flowed sluggishly out into Morgan’s.

Morgan took it eagerly.

It tasted of honey, and cinnamon, and magic...

When her mouth was full, the nymph broke off the kiss. Her glistening lips—wet and shining like her eyes—formed a wider smile than Morgan had yet seen. Then she spun, and on her tiptoes pranced back to the center of the circle.

Morgan was naked. She realized it with all the surprise her wonder-struck mind could muster, which wasn’t much. She had felt the fingers on her, felt the plucking hands, but only now realized that the other nymphs had been stripping her.

There was a tiny curiosity if the nymphs liked her tattoo, the little sun on the small of her back.

But it evaporated from the surface of her mind almost as soon as it occurred.

Dimly, her mind sluggish and overloaded, Morgan watched as her nymph picked up a horn, and brought it to those glistening lips. Morgan rolled the Magic around in her mouth as the nymph blew the horn.

It was deep, and low, and resonated deep within Morgan’s body.

For a moment, nothing happened. A leaf twirled gently down in a streamer of sunlight.

Then HE appeared.

HE stepped into the circle, from somewhere outside, and filled it in an instant. It was as though a heavy stone had fallen into a small pond, and it was all astir with the sudden new presence. HE was tall, and hairy—His legs were those of goats, hooves and all—and HE had a tremendous pair of antlers spreading proudly from His forehead.

Morgan had seen pictures of Him in books.

They were nothing like. They weren’t ALIVE.

HE smiled, and His yellow eyes like those of a tiger took in the nymphs, who were flocking to touch Him. HE spotted Her, and smiled at her as she set aside the horn.

“So soon a catch?” His voice boomed.

HE looked at Morgan.

Suddenly, she burned for a fuck.

A switch had flipped and she needed to fuck NOW. She had never been so horny, not ever, not all of her lust her whole life taken together. She HAD to FUCK NOW.

She looked up at His eyes, then her gaze dropped to the nymph, who was on her knees, licking one cloven hoof. The view of Her spread pussy set Morgan’s mind on fire.

Somehow, she couldn’t move, but she needed to SO MUCH. She had to reach Her, had to FUCK. She hung in place, burning.

Then HE started to laugh.

It boomed through the grove. Through the woods. Possibly the world. It was the sound of Nature amused at itself.

“A Thessalian,” HE said. “You’ve brought me a Thessalian.”

HE looked at Morgan, who was looking at Him, and laughed again. Morgan whined and writhed.

“Once,” HE said, “it would have annoyed Me that you paid My manhood no heed. But those are long days ago.” HE looked around at the nymphs, who were touching Him, clustering around in slick piles of flesh, stroking His furry legs. “Long days, and I have gained some wisdom since.”

“Pleasure Me,” HE said, and the nymphs crawled onto Him, licking, touching. Morgan could see how wet and ready they were. A nymph with cascades of ice-blonde hair crawled atop two others, and His hands closed around her waist, and she moaned a great close-mouthed moan as HE brought her down onto His shaft.

The brown-haired one, the nymph that had brought Morgan here, rose from where She had prostrated herself on the ground to clamber in towards Him, licking a trail up His leg. But before She could join those nymphs already clustering around His shaft, licking it in the intervals while the blonde nymph’s wide-spread pussy was farther out, His hand touched Her forehead.

“No,” HE said. HE pointed at Morgan. “Pleasure her.”

Morgan whined.

Slowly, She turned, and as Her green eyes fixed on Morgan the lust that sparkled deep down within them set Morgan’s skin tingling. The nymph took a step forward, then another, Her smooth white hips swiveling, Her body undulating. Morgan could barely see through her need.

“Mortal,” His voice intoned. “Swallow, and make love.”

Morgan swallowed the load in her mouth. Suddenly, she could think again, although her thoughts were now harnessed entirely towards satisfying the lust that owned her. She spread her arms, and her legs, and the nymph came closed and pushed her back, lying on top of her, and they were kissing, kisses that tasted of honey, and then Morgan’s breasts were being sucked and then Her head was lower down and Morgan came for the first time, and came again as She worked her fingers up inside. And later She pivoted around and Her pussy came within reach, and tears welled up in Morgan’s eyes as she tasted it for the first time, because it was so perfect, and she licked at it and came again and then she was sucking, and working her tongue up inside, and then there was more kissing and she was on her knees and on her back and on her side, and they clamped legs and thrust into each other with their fingers interlaced...

Finally, at the end, they were kissing. And HE motioned them forward, and the well-fucked nymphs caressing His body moved aside—for HE had had time to fuck them all, and well—and Morgan and her lover came to Him, and knelt in front of His manhood.

And although it did not excite Morgan in the way it did her lover, she knew that this was why she was here, why her skin had become so pale, why she had rubbed off all her pubic hair against the smooth mons of her faerie queen. And HE was, after all, Himself, and worthy of her reverence. So she took his manhood in her mouth, tasting all the nymphs of the grove upon it, and she stroked the shaft and she licked the tip, until it shivered and spat, and then she swallowed and swallowed and swallowed.

And, as it slowed, she opened her glittering green eyes and passed the shaft to her lover, whose face was only inches from her own. And her lover took the last of His seed into her own mouth, until Her cheeks were full and Her lips as pursed as her own.

As HE left the grove, and it filled with stillness once more—for His presence was like light, and heat, and when HE was gone the world was cool—the lovers held each other, and caressed.

But with fingers alone, for their tongues were carefully locked away.

Randi sniffed. She couldn’t help herself.

She shuffled across the field. They had found Morgan’s picnic basket here, three years ago, and her car, parked over by the abandoned house. That was it. Dog teams, search and rescue, hundreds of volunteers. Her prints had gone into the woods, and stopped.

No one had seen her since.

Randi had come the first year to put a wreath at the foot of the tree overlooking the woods. It had seemed the right place to put it, somehow. She’d done it last year, too.

But not this year.

This year she had come to say goodbye.

A bumblebee buzzed by her, sounding heavy. The air was filled with motes that caught the light, and the grass was dry and warm. One of those rare English summer days that was comfortable like an overstuffed chair and a good blanket.

Just the sort of day that Morgan had disappeared on.

Randi took the last few steps up the hill, and reached out to touch the tree. The bark was grainy and solid beneath her hand. At the base, her little memorial from last year was still in evidence, the vase mud-spattered by a year of rains, the flowers entirely missing.

She was a little surprised it was still there.

From here, Randi could barely see the road. Her own car—living on her own, she’d needed one, and now the Vespa sat in the garage most days—was just a glinting silver rooftop.

With a little sigh, she sat down. It was such a beautiful day, it was counteracting the sadness that this place always brought her. Randi exhaled, and leaned back against the trunk. She closed her eyes.

She had to let go. She had a life to live, and Morgan would have wanted her to live it. A new job in a new city. Maybe a new girlfriend. It was time to move on.

But she wouldn’t begrudge herself a few more moments on a sunny hill. Randi settled into the tree.

A change in the wind caught her attention, and she opened an eye. It was just as warm, but was it quieter?

And what was that, down in the trees?

...Morgan?