The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Camille

The room was ready.

Camille paced back and forth, waiting for her servants and Laura to arrive. Lucy was back in town from the trip Camille had sent her on. Or was it Claire that had sent her? Angelica? It didn’t matter. She was back.

With Lucy came the routine. The house came back to life under her instruction. Claire took over Angelica’s responsibilities. Laura took over Abby’s tasks. And tonight, the Muse Sessions would return.

Jacques had already brought up a bowl of strawberries, but Camille didn’t think she’d need them. Ever since she put Laura back in control, she’d been starving. She’d consumed all of the reserves they had of Nikki’s blood in the past week. Lucy said they would have to slowly get more. That meant Camille was starving.

And horny.

She knew she’d do it tonight. She was going to sire Laura. She was no Laura K, but she deserved a reward for her loyalty and patience. She never abandoned Camille, even when Angelica betrayed her. Perhaps they’d sire Lucy together as well. Both of them had been loyal servants. Ideal, really. Camille couldn’t have been more proud of them.

There was a knock at the door.

“Came thug,” said Camille, her words swirling in her mouth.

The door opened slowly. It was Claire. Claire muttered something, but Camille could never understand her these days.

“What?” she asked.

“Do you need anything?” asked Claire slowly.

“No. Just Laura. Tell him to scurry.”

“Yes … Mistress.” Claire closed the door and left.

Camille went back to pacing. Part of her was terrified. She hadn’t touched her novel in weeks. She’d lost the ability to read, but she could still write. It was more like drawing now. She could run her pen over the paper, and Laura would make sense of it. Laura would translate her power into letters, and then their novel would reach Laura K, and Laura K would come back, and everything would be as it should be and had been and will be again. Yes.

But tonight was going to be the night. She’d have so much to write after Laura’s ascent. After the poetry and blood, there’d be a new beginning, one cast in darkness, a hope twisted and beautiful, the sweetness of a tragedy, the pleasure of cruelty, the calm in being sinister. There, once there, she could write again. She’d write such words that Laura K could never resist her.

She wondered what Laura K looked like. She hadn’t aged, but how would she dress in these times? How would she walk and hold herself? She loved the fashions of the time, yet hated the pressure to be fashionable. She’d look effortless, as though she didn’t care, but if she hadn’t changed, it would have been meticulously constructed.

Camille shivered at the thought.

The door hummed a light tune. Camille turned around. “What is it, door? Is someone there?” The door nodded and smiled. Camille smiled back. “Well, let them in.”

The door obeyed and swung open. Laura was there with Lucy and Claire. Her three girls. The three loyal ones. The three that stayed. Lucy was in her typical pantsuit and tight, plain blouse. She came in and began stripping without ceremony. Claire did the same. She looked nervous as she peeled off her maid’s uniform, or perhaps that was just another earthquake causing her to shake. To them, it was another Muse Session, even if they hadn’t had one in a long time.

Laura was entirely different. She wore a tight dark purple corset overtop a lacy blue blouse. The sleeves of it flared wide as they draped over Laura’s wrists. She was wearing a black skirt that tightly hugged her thighs before flaring out past the knee. Those gave way to dark heeled boots that rose to meet the edge of the skirt. Her makeup was dark to match: deep red lipstick, thick eyeliner, and smokey eye shadow. Her hair was up in a bun, and she had rich sapphire earrings. She would make the perfect vampire, thought Camille.

In her arms, Laura clutched the thick tome of Marcilla’s poems. Camille was almost as excited to hear those words from Laura’s lips as she was to drink and fuck tonight. The words were power. That much was always true. But to Camille, they brought her back to the days of glory, even days before Laura K, when she hunted and fucked without concern or doubt. She was a force of nature, a body enslaved to its desires. Life was easier then, and all she wanted in the world was to share it with a partner. Soon she would. Thanks to Laura, soon she would.

Laura took her seat but didn’t strip. She crossed her legs, put the book on her lap, and opened it. Claire and Lucy finished getting undressed. Camille forced herself to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Are you ready?” Lucy asked.

“Yes,” said Laura. “We may begin.”

Claire and Lucy sank to their knees and crawled towards Camille. They started to kiss her body, starting with her hands, her knees, her shins, her wrists. They started slowly, warming Camille up into the moment, and slowly peeling back the folds of her robe.

Laura began to read:

The Yawn

Across the hall gather the women,

Each watching their husband,

Each daring him to dance with

Each strategic tittle of breast.

But Miss Laura Karnstein

Turns her head and yawns.

Her unadorned neck grows tight,

Then sags with parted lips,

Her mouth wide with boredom.

Camille smiled and tilted her head back, inviting Lucy to kiss her neck. They were going back to the beginning. The first poem she wrote Laura K, the first time she saw her. She could see it again: the room of crowded women, the boring gatherings of nobles pretending they had power, the forced machinations of etiquette. Camille could easily slit all their throats and bathe in their blood. She was a monster hiding in the clothing of a doll.

But amid all of that dullery was Laura K. She was equally bored, equally half asleep with the lives of humans. Just in her posture, in the simple curve of her body, Camille could tell she wanted more, and she wanted to give her more.

But her porcelain skin catches me.

The length of her thin neck,

The pale skin masking

So much red life, so much

Thrumming potential,

But she passes it on

As yet another yawn.

I look for Mr. Karnstein,

But he is neither in Miss Karnstein’s eye

Nor among the men.

He must be a yawn,

Missing the twitch in her

Pulsing throat,

The brazen sign of desire

For more than this,

A hundred days of hunting and planning rolled through Camille’s vision. She moaned and spread her legs, letting Lucy and Claire disrobe her. Claire’s kisses travel up Camille’s thighs as Lucy’s kisses travel down Camille’s throat, over her collarbone. She would watch Laura K sleep. She would make noises in the night, summoning Laura K out of bed and into the gardens just so she could watch her walk, just so they could be alone in the dark together.

How many times were they alone like that? Just two bodies in shadow, one breathing and the other panting, two tangled messes of flesh craving more than life had to offer? It must have been more than Camille could count, though Laura K never knew. She didn’t know that Mr. Karnstein was often forced to leave town on business from Camille’s scheming. She didn’t know that she sabotaged their bed until the Karnsteins slept in different rooms and Camille could watch every night, just admiring the rise and fall of Laura K’s chest in the moonlight.

More than traditional dances.

She pulls away, and I follow.

I see the vein of her neck shiver,

And I join it. The first twitch

Of game before it runs; she rises

To excuse herself,

As though it possible,

As though a resting note,

A caesura,

May be

pardoned

or ignored.

But I rise and follow.

She retreats, and I give chase.

Camille pulled Claire’s mouth into her pussy with one hand. With another, she pulled Lucy to her tit. She didn’t want to cum — not yet — but she was tired of these dances, of these games. She was tired of disguises and teasing. Too much foreplay. Centuries of foreplay, but tonight’s the night. Tonight is the night.

Camille hears the flip of the page and arches her back, anticipating the next one. She knows these poems better than herself. They have kept the memory of Laura K alive, kept them sharp. They are better than her body, better than her mind. The words don’t fade, and the memory stays sharp enough to stab, deep enough to cum.

How long can a shadow run?

In the light, it will make horizons

To chase, ever lengthening,

Sisyphean, or perhaps Tantalus,

A hunger that burns me up

And yet brightens me, casting her

Further from my desperate reach.

Camille opens her eyes. She tries to sit up, but Lucy and Claire press down on her, both of them latched to her. She moans as their fingers glide over her body, as their soft hands press down against her throat, her thighs. This poem is new. Or maybe old. Yes, it must be so old. Maybe it’s older than Laura K, back to when Camille was a huntress supreme.

But if I descend, she approaches,

I’ll be darkness until she is light to me,

Until I am shadow and she casts on me.

I grow, and she reaches out to me.

The eclipse craves the shadows legacy,

But we are two heavenly bodies,

Each passing, in one rare moment,

She wanes, and I wax.

She begs, and I am the goddess.

I have lured her with promises,

And I will deliver in blood.

Yes. Camille became darkness. She became the moon, and girls flocked towards her. They asked about her eyes, about her skin, about her power. She was cruel, and more came. She was evil, and they stuck to her like honey. She feasted, and more lined up for the next slaughter. She could have gone on like this forever: a paragon of gluttony and lust.

Camille moaned. She tasted the hundreds of girls she’d devoured. She felt their lives oozing down her throat in thick torrents. Their sweet blood was sticky, something to be saved for later. Their bodies were treasures of pleasures: blood, cunt, tongue, and tears. She saw their faces: farmer’s daughters, noble’s wives, nuns, warriors, poets, artists, seamstresses, matchmakers, sisters, twins, mothers, and more. Too many. One cannot remember all the meals of their life.

And for Camille, each meal was a fuck as well. Each meal was a conquest. Each meal was a hunt and a game. Each meal was a person: a sack of meat to feed her lust, feed her stomach.

Except for Laura K.

When will she awaken?

When will I be satisfied

In flesh and sin,

In blood and hunt.

I have waited these eons,

Pen in my hand,

Writing my own obituary.

She will come to my grave,

There our lips will kiss,

Two corpses, two ghosts

Haunting our own stories.

Two hands slid towards Camille’s pussy. Heat blossomed in her body. Touch and nerve and moans and breath and skin and blood and blood and blood. Her body writhed under their touch. It thrashed against their fingertips, but she was held down.

She opened her eyes. Emma was standing over her, holding onto her shoulders. Lucy and Claire’s fingers flee from Camille’s pussy, clamping down on her legs. Camille thrashed, tried to shake her off, but Emma was strong. When did she get so strong?

“What’sh going on?” She tried to roar but it came out as a whimper. “Emma? What are you doing?”

Emma said nothing. Camille heard the sound of a book closing, and the clacking of boots. Laura’s face appeared in the corner of her vision.

“Tonight is the night,” said Laura. “I’m glad to say I’m not sorry to do this.”

“What are you doing?”

Two needles of pain shot through Camille’s thighs. They stung at first, but then her legs started to go numb.

“What ish thish?” she asked.

“I’m surprised you’re not more familiar with the effects of vervain.” Laura smirked. “You’ve been living under them for weeks.”

“Get over me!” shouted Camille. “Get over me!” She tried to flail as best she could. Emma was too strong, but maybe she could kick off Claire or Lucy. She strained to make her legs obey. They felt heavy and thick. Clumsy. But the adrenaline of fear shot through her. She roared and bucked.

Lucy held on tight, but Claire fell backwards. There was a loud snapping sound, and the smell of blood filled the room. Claire shrieked in pain.

“Claire!” yelled Lucy.

Claire’s whimpers came from somewhere, but Camille couldn’t see. Emma loomed over her. The small girl had an intensity Camille had only seen after feasting.

“She’s fine,” said Laura. “Camille won’t be able to struggle much longer.”

“I think her leg’s broken,” said Lucy.

“It’s fine. We can take her to a hospital afterwards.”

“You’re eating again?” Camille asked Emma.

“One last time,” said Emma.

“You can let go, Lucy,” said Laura. “Hold tight, Emma.”

Both women obeyed. Camille tried to thrash her legs again, but nothing happened. She couldn’t get them to move. She tried to sit up, but Emma’s fingers dug into her flesh. Her grip was like steel, and Camille abandoned hope of escape.

“What do you want?” asked Camille.

“The same thing I’ve always wanted.”

“You want me to drink you? To kill you?”

Laura shrugged. “I used to think that. But, no. I thought I could help you find Laura K, and then I’d thought you’d drink more or sire me. I thought you’d bring me so close to death that I’d transcend. That’s what vampires do, right? They offer death, transcendance, sometimes both.”

Laura leaned over Camille. Camille tried to thrash at her, but Emma held her in place. “But not you. Oh, not Camille Kontalban. Maybe Marcilla could do it. And I tried. You know it. I tried to bring Marcilla back, but she’s gone isn’t she? You’re too weak to be her again. You’re nothing.”

Laura paced around the room while she spoke. Camille tried to keep track of her location, but the room was spinning. Her vision was blurring. There were two Emmas pinning her down, almost four, and the constant shrieks of Claire were driving Camille insane.

“And worse,” added Laura, “was what you had become. You weren’t a huntress anymore. You were a slaver. The longer I lived here, the more I discovered that your weakness bred cruelty. I found out the cost of employment and the risk of those that crossed you. I found Emma. I found where you kept Nikki. For decades you were too weak to give your victims the mercy of death. You fed off them like cattle.”

Laura’s voice was iron, cold and sharp. Camille heard echoes of it bouncing around the room. It mingled with the cries of Claire and the soft reassurances of Lucy. It rang through the cold eyes of all six Emmas digging their nails into Camille’s flesh.

“Tonight you get justice,” said Laura.

The door opened, and Camille gasped when she smelled the person waiting there. It couldn’t be. It was impossible. How did she find her? How did she convince her to come back?

Emma climbed off Camille, and she sat up. There, in the doorway, was Laura Karnstein. She was dressed practically: a flannel shirt with tight jeans and boots. Her hair was in a ponytail, but her skin was clear and smooth. She looked the same as when Camille had first seen her: still pale, still cold, still unamused and bored. Her jaw was tight, and her lips were pursed. This was the face Camille fell in love with, the look of someone who beheld the spectacular and was unimpressed, the face of someone who wants more than life can give her.

“Laura?” whispered Camille. “Is it you?”

“Yes,” said Laura, “she’s here to —”

“Finish this,” snapped Laura K. “Let’s get this over with.” Laura K approached the bed and rolled up her sleeves.

“I’m sorry,” said Camille. “I’m so sorry.” Tears flooded her eyes. She’d done it. Laura had done it. This wasn’t a trap; it was a gift. This was her one chance to be reunited with her true love. This was her happily ever after.

But her eyes darted from Emma to Laura K. Emma was everything she’d done wrong. She’d deserved what she got. Over a century of isolation and loneliness was a just punishment for taking a daughter from a mother.

“Please forgive me,” she begged. Laura K said nothing. She and Emma each stood on one side of the bed, looking at Laura.

“I’ve wanted one thing from you, and you couldn’t give it to me,” she said. “But I found others who will.” Laura paced behind Laura K. “I made a deal, a trade. Laura K will finish my transformation, and in exchange, she gets Emma and you.”

“You’re back?” Camille’s voice cracked. Tears ran freely down her face. It was too good to be true. Laura had done it. She’d done everything Camille had wanted her to do, begged her to do.

Laura K said nothing. She turned and muttered something to Laura. The smaller woman nodded, and both women walked to the front of the room.

“Thank you, Laura,” whispered Camille. “Both of you. You have no idea how happy you’ve made me, how much you’ve done for me. It’s the happiest day of my life.”

“Are you sure you want this?” asked Laura K.

Camille tried to look at her, but Emma’s grip wouldn’t relent. “Yes. Please,” whimpered Camille. “More than anything.”

“Yes,” said Laura. “I want this.”

“You’re a fool,” said Laura K.

“I know.”

Camille leaned forward. They were ignoring her. What was happening? In front of the bed, Laura K stood in front of Laura. Emma quickly went behind her mother, looking nervous. Lucy was by Claire’s side, inspecting the broken leg. Claire whimpered quietly.

“I’m ready,” said Laura.

Laura K turned to Camille. She didn’t smile. There wasn’t a speck of excitement or love in her heart. Laura K looked at Camille with disgust, then turned and gave Laura the same look.

Laura moved her hair out of the way and tilted her neck to the side. “Do it.”

“One last warning,” said Laura K. “Take your friends and go. Leave her here. She won’t last long in this state.”

“We each have our own revenge,” said Laura. “This is mine.”

“Is it revenge or a coup?”

Laura smirked. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Laura K rolled up the sleeves of her shirt. “Yes you have.” She stretched her jaw, showing off her long fangs. “You made up your mind a long time ago.”

Laura’s smile widened. “Enough talking.”

Without ceremony, Laura K stepped forward and bit Laura.

Laura

She was ready for the pain. She’d been bitten enough, even driven to the absolute edge of life and death. It was an old friend at this point: white, cold, and sharp.

What Laura didn’t expect was the speed. Laura K didn’t drink to satisfy. She didn’t drink to enjoy. It was mechanical for her. She wanted efficiency, and Laura’s body went numb quickly. It started with her extremities as she lost blood. Her vision blurred. The world dipped and warped around her.

“Bite back,” whispered Emma. “You have to bite back.”

Laura knew the ritual, but her body was sluggish. Laura K was drinking her quickly. Too quickly. Laura K’s neck was arched and ready. She just needed to bend down, bite, and drink. She needed to replace her blood with Laura K’s. It should be like kissing. Easy.

“Slow down,” whispered Emma. She tapped her mother’s shoulder. “Slow down.”

Laura bent forward. A thousand razorblades ran over her neck as Laura K kept drinking, kept summoning daggers out of Laura’s skin. She gasped, but she had to push through. She needed to drink. One time. One last time. She was so close. Impossibly close.

“Drink, dammit,” snapped Lucy. Laura’s eyes rolled in her head. She felt a hand on the back of her head. Lucy? Emma? It pushed, and Laura’s head flopped against Laura K’s neck. She opened her mouth and bit down against the pale flesh.

Porcelain skin. The line came to Laura easily. How silly to think of it now. The hand on the back of her head pressed down, and she dug her teeth into the flesh harder. Skin broke, and blood poured from the dam.

Laura expected the metallic taste she’d come to know, but this blood was different. It was earthy, like loam or topsoil. There was a sweetness in it, like green peppers or onions. She drank, and the pain in her neck faded. She drank more, and the tingling in her body receded. But the cold remained. Laura K’s blood was frigid, and as it spread through Laura’s body, the cold of bloodlessness stayed with her.

Strength came with nausea. Laura wanted to stop, to vomit or gasp for breath, but her body could keep going. It had to keep going. She was in hell, and the only way out was through. If she stopped, if she hesitated, she’d be destroyed. There’d be nothing left for her. She kept drinking while the room spun. She kept drinking as her vision blurred. Blackness crept in at the edges. Her throat burned.

Laura K released her, pulling back. Laura dropped hard to the floor. The room was spinning around her. She tried to catch herself, to move her body, but her muscles didn’t obey. Her body was battling Laura K’s blood, convinced it was dying.

Panic struck Laura. Maybe she was dying. Maybe Laura K had lied to her. Why not? She’d endangered her daughter, worked for her enemy, and wanted to be made immortal, to be a part of the disease Laura K and Emma despised. There was no love between the Lauras. It was a begrudging partnership to take care of a mutual enemy. It would be so convenient to lie, to trick Laura into making herself vulnerable.

Laura watched from the floor as the feet of Laura K and Emma turned from her to the bed. “Is she dead?” asked Camille. “What have you done to her?”

“She’s fine,” said Laura K. “But we have unfinished business.”

Laura could hear Camille’s smile. “I can’t, love. I can’t move my legs. We should wait. You must be tired from your trip. But there will be time to make love. There will be an eternity.”

The legs of Emma and Laura K moved closer, climbing onto the bed.

“I appreciate your eagerness,” said Camille. “We should send my servants out.” Camille laughed. “What are you doing? Wait … that hurts.” Panic entered her voice. “You’re hurting me. What are you doing? Laura? Laura?”

Camille’s shrieks were punctuated by the sound of snapping bone. Tearing flesh added to the symphony, even after Camille’s voice died. There was more snapping and pulling. A small rivulet of blood ran down from the bed across Laura’s line of vision.

Emma and Laura K’s legs both appeared in front of the bed. Emma’s feet walked towards the door. She didn’t say a word. Laura had hoped she’d say goodbye before it was all over, but perhaps that was too much. Emma may never forgive Laura for all she asked, even if it did bring about her freedom and her mother.

“You should go,” said Laura K. “When she wakes up, she’ll be ravenous. She’ll recognize neither friend nor family.”

“What about Claire?” asked Lucy.

“I’ll take care of her. Go. Get a hotel room. Come back in a week. She’ll be sane by then.”

“There’s someone else here too, other staff.”

“Get them all out.”

“Okay.” Lucy’s feet appeared in Laura’s vision. They stopped at the door and turned. “Thank you,” she said. “You’ve saved us all.”

Lucy turned and left.

From behind Laura, there was the sound of something heavy sliding as Claire’s whimpers came closer. She crossed Laura’s line of vision. Her leg looked terrible. Her face was pale from the blood loss and pain. She might be going into shock. She looked at Laura and held out a hand. Laura tried to take it, but her hand didn’t obey her anymore.

“When you wake up,” said Laura K. “You’ll need to eat immediately. Don’t eat it all at once. The more you pace yourself, the less people you’ll have to kill.”

Realization dawned on Claire’s face. She tried to get up and scramble away, but Laura K stepped on the knee of the unbroken leg, and, with a quick jerk, crushed it. Claire howled in pain, but Laura K quickly silenced her with a hand. She lowered herself, getting into Laura’s vision.

“I know what you did to my daughter,” she hissed. “You deserve to die.” Laura K got up and locked the door. Claire screamed for help, but Laura K ignored her. She moved around the room, looking for something, opening drawers as she went. “Instead, I’ll offer one lesson, the same one Camille taught me and Emma.” She came back into view with rope. She bound Claire’s hands behind her back, gagged her, and then tied rope around the gag, keeping it in place.

She bent down and looked directly at Laura. “Maybe you’ll see this as a curse when you’re done with her. If not, I’m sure you have more loved ones to destroy.”

Laura wanted to shriek, to flail, to get up and fight. She wanted to kill Laura K or free Claire. She had to do something, anything, but her body was useless. She couldn’t move. She could only watch as Laura K stood, opened the door, explained to Lucy that they needed to leave, and closed the door behind them.

Claire turned and watched her. They both held each other’s gaze as the candles in the room died, as Camille’s blood finally reached them on the floor, as darkness took Laura’s vision, and her body.