The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

A Priest in Her Service


Why am I here? thought Derek. I don’t want to be here. On the other hand, I don’t want to leave. He looked around again, trying to understand what had happened.

He had been out for a jog, and then—

And then he had turned down a side road that wasn’t part of his route. There wasn’t any particular reason he remembered that he dido so, but he couldn’t think of any reason why he shouldn’t, either. He had approached a large house off the cul de sac at the end, and gone straight in the front door without even knocking. Someone just behind him had caught the door as it swung shut. She was now sitting over to his right, looking around much like he was, with a vaguely puzzled and slightly worried expression on her face.

He knew exactly how she felt. The two of them sat, with ten or fifteen others, in an empty garage, on folding chairs all facing the same way. Derek recognized several people as neighbors he had passed in their gardens, or while they walked or jogged. Their clothing suggested that, like him, they were going about their business when they had come to this house instead.

Derek’s thoughts were interrupted as another person edged past him to sit in the empty chair to his left; an attractive blond woman that he didn’t recognize. She was dressed in shorts and a sports bra, and had a phone on an armband.

Derek wanted to ask her what was going on, why they were all here, why he didn’t leave, what was going on, but he didn’t. He turned to face her, caught her eye, then just stopped. After a moment, he gave a rueful little shrug, a brief smile to show he wasn’t trying to be weird, and gave up. She gave a worried smile back, then looked briefly frustrated.

So she can’t talk either. Nobody else is talking in the whole room, so it must be all of us. With nothing to do but look around, he took careful stock of the situation.

He was in the house’s large three car garage, which was mostly empty save for the chairs. No cars, no lawnmower, nothing but a set of shelves along the back wall with a few gardening tools. Other than the garage doors, there was just the door he came in through, from the house’s front hall. He tried to remember any details about the hall, but he hadn’t been paying attention.

The chairs were ordinary folding chairs, set in rows facing the wall opposite the rest of the house. At that end, there was a space, as if for a makeshift stage. In the middle of it was a padded piano bench. He guessed there were about 40 chairs, and they had been filling steadily since he arrived.

Derek next turned his attention to the people. It seemed as if it was a random cross section of the population of his suburban neighborhood at first. As he looked, however, that notion seemed to break down.

There are maybe twice as many women as men here, and nobody over 40. Could that be because we were all outside when we ... decided to come? No, she wasn’t dressed like that outside! He had just noticed a woman seated a few rows behind him in a loose t-shirt and panties. She clearly was not wearing a bra underneath. He quickly turned away, embarrassed. Then he looked back. She was just sitting there, not really looking around, not trying to cover herself. Her expression was neutral.

He looked back at the woman next to him. She was doing the same thing. He looked around more carefully. A few of the other people in the room showed an active interest in their surroundings, like him, but most were just sitting there looking at nothing in particular. They weren’t exactly still, but they definitely weren’t doing anything. As he watched, one of the more recent arrivals, a man he knew by face but not name in a business suit, seemed to lose interest in studying the group and settled down to gaze off into the distance.

Maybe I’m different. Maybe I can—nope, still not getting up. But I can look around, and I can still think. Are any of them still thinking? He didn’t know, and he didn’t want to find out. Are they afraid? Come to think of it, am I afraid? He pondered this for a while. The fear sat at the edges of his thoughts, but didn’t intrude. It politely avoided becoming central to his attention, even when he was actively thinking about it.

By now, the chairs were nearly full, and with very little physical change, the atmosphere of the room shifted. It was like at a concert or play when the lights dimmed, only the lights remained the same and there was no buzz of conversation to die away. But there was a sense of anticipation.

Then, a woman stepped in front of the assembly. He hadn’t seen her come in, despite looking around just a moment ago. She was gorgeous. Over six feet tall, with long slender legs and a shapely body. She wore a black evening gown with a long slit up one side. Her straight dark hair fell almost to her waist, pulled back from her pale face.

“Welcome,” she said, “to a glorious beginning. You, who have been blessed, are honored with the opportunity to join in reverie of the Goddess.”

As he heard these words, Derek felt a warmth deep within him, as if joining in reverie of the Goddess, whatever that was, was a deeply satisfying idea. Wait a minute. That sounds terrifying. I’m being brainwashed into a cult! Why aren’t I worried? The answer quickly followed. Oh. Right. I’ve probably been brainwashed into the cult already. Damn. When did that happen? He had little time to try to figure it out, though, since the woman was continuing.

“You will serve the Goddess, and you will gift the Goddess the power She needs to remake the world.”

She raised her left hand, and Derek noticed that she was wearing a very thin, sparse, black lace glove on it. A moment later, he decided it was actually a delicate spiderweb tattoo. Then he realized it was growing down her arm, just passing her elbow, and for a moment, he briefly felt the force of the fear being held away from his thoughts.

“Now, cast aside your garments, so that I may see what offerings you have for the Goddess.”

Before he realized what was happening, Derek was rising from his chair in unison with the rest of the room. The fear dwindled away before his need to perform the task as he quickly undressed. Since he was jogging, he had little to take off. He whisked off his T-shirt over his head, kicked off his shoes and socks, and dropped his shorts and underwear in one pass. His clothing made a little pile at his feet.

Since he was undressed quicker than many in the room, Derek had a little time as others undid their clothes. He was aware that nobody else was looking around, but he couldn’t help but steal a few furtive glances at the naked people around him.

The attractiveness of the woman to his left was more than confirmed by her naked form. Freed from the sports bra, her breasts, while not large, sat proud and perky on her chest. She bent over to slip her panties off, facing partially away, and Derek was treated to an ample view of her finely toned ass, and the lips between. She made no effort to conceal herself.

Derek felt himself stirring, and worried. If I get hard, will she know that I’m not like everyone else? Quickly, he glanced away, but it was no use. Everywhere he looked, there were naked or nearly naked women. He forced himself to focus on a man two rows in front of him and at the end of his row, who had turned to face him while folding his pants over the back of his chair.

He studied the man intently, willing himself to focus on him and not the more pleasing forms around him. He was short, maybe five feet six inches, and surprisingly well muscled. Derek reflected on his own runner’s body in comparison, and his extra four-and-three-quarters-I-swear inches in height. His cock was normal, circumcised, and entirely flaccid. I probably have an inch or two on him there, Derek thought. Unless he’s a serious grower. This was good. Derek did not find dick-measuring contests to be at all sexy.

With the relief that he wasn’t going to grow a conspicuous erection, a realization came to Derek. It’s not just young people in here; we’re all attractive. Nobody is fat, nobody is ugly. Were we picked that way? His pursuit of this line of thinking was short, however, since the stragglers with more complicated clothing were now finishing, and the entire room stood naked in front of their chairs, facing the woman.

When Derek looked back her way, anticipating her next address to the room, he was surprised to see that she was looking directly back at him. The fear at the edges of his mind made an effort to panic him; to drop the pit of his stomach in terror at his discovery, but nothing happened other than a mild disquiet, and she soon looked away to another of her ... flock? Congregation?

The woman raised her arm again, and Derek noticed that the crawling tattoo now ran all the way up her arm into her dress, and tendrils were visible in her decolletage.

“Now,” she said, and suddenly her dress was gone, and she stood before them naked and wonderful to behold, “Show your Mistress the passion you offer the Goddess.”

Again, the response was immediate. Derek groaned (the first sound he had made since entering the house) as his cock thrust forward, swelling to full hardness instantly, feeling massive but straining to grow still further. He heard a whimper beside him, and saw the woman next to him lean forward, her nipples stiffened like tiny rocks, and reach between her legs. Her expression was pure bliss.

This made Derek realize that he could do the same, and he grabbed his dick with both hands. It was hot to his touch, and felt harder than it ever had before. It was a cock that could melt glaciers, shatter mountains, boil oceans. He pumped a couple of times, but the sensations were immediately overwhelming, and he stopped in simple awe that such intensity could come from his own body. He stood there, squeezing his dick with both hands, panting. The feeling was too intense to even call pleasure. It was more than that, more than anything, and he did not dare increase it.

All around him, the others in the room did not have the same limitation. They stroked, pumped, and grasped in a frenzy of self-love, though everyone was still standing in front of their chair. The woman to Derek’s left had jammed one hand in her crotch and the other in her mouth and was squeezing her legs together. Another woman further down the row was reaching in front with one hand and behind with the other. The man that Derek had compared himself to was stroking away at his cock, and Derek noted that he did, in fact, retain the advantage, but only by a little.

The now-naked woman, who called herself their Mistress, walked up to a man in the second row, and touched him on the chest. The man followed her to the front of the room, where she sat on the piano bench, legs spread. He stepped forward and thrust into her clean-shaven pussy with a single lunge. A few seconds of frantic thrusting and he cried out in ecstasy, then returned quietly to his place. His erection was undiminished, but his passion was gone and he stood listlessly, as before.

The woman came through the room again, sampling a few people with a caress or gentle kiss, and Derek noted that her tattoo now covered the whole side of her body, one large, perfectly shaped tit, and was creeping tantalizingly towards her pussy and down her thigh.

She next selected a woman, and upon returning to the bench with her sat her down and reached between her legs with the spider-webbed hand. Again in just seconds, she came with a squeal, then rose to return to her position.

The Mistress wandered among the chairs and masturbators again. Derek thought she seemed to be looking for something in each person she passed. Some got merely a glance, some a caress on the shoulder or cheek, and one or two a squeeze of the breast or balls. As she came closer, his concern increased. Unlike everyone else he could see, he still was not actively pleasuring himself. Each time he tried to start, lest she spot his difference, the sensations were so powerful that he had to stop immediately. What happens if she chooses me? Can she tell that I’m not like the others?

Then, the Mistress was right in front of him. She was so beautiful it hurt to look at her. He nearly cried in shame that he wasn’t able to show his passion the way everyone else was. She looked him up and down, and he moved his hands back and forth a fraction of an inch, groaning with the magnitude of feelings.

She smiled, and ran a finger from her tattooed hand down his chest while moving his hands aside with her other hand. She slid her finger through his pubic hair, and down the length of his cock to the very tip. The path was like ice on his burning member, and his knees nearly buckled. Then she nodded coyly, and turned away.

Derek thought he would be relieved that he hadn’t been chosen and caught, but his relief contended with disappointment, as he saw the Mistress choose his left-hand neighbor to lead to the front. Why didn’t she choose me? Am I not worthy?

An unusually loud groan from behind him caused Derek to turn nearly around, before he realized that would show him as different from the crowd. A man in the last row had climaxed, his jizz hitting the bare floor several feet in front of him with a loud splat. He now stood quietly, but his erection still thrust forth. Derek quickly turned back, relieved to see that the Mistress was still heading for the bench with her back to him.

The next minutes passed in a blur for Derek as the pleasure emerging from his engorged cock muddied his mind. He was vaguely aware of the Mistress collecting several more people from the room, bringing each of them to shattering orgasm in just a few seconds. The woman to his left, the Mistress made cum with her tongue, on the first lick. The man a few rows ahead he studied earlier, she stroked with her hand, letting him shoot wildly on the wall.

As the Mistress was claiming the offerings of passion to the Goddess, several more people in the room orgasmed without her aid, and the room gradually became quiet and still again. As the mistress rose from taking another man in her mouth, and the woman in just a T-shit and panties behind him cried out in ecstasy, Derek realized that only he and perhaps one or two others (he hadn’t been keeping careful track) were still actively pleasuring themselves. Everyone else was still aroused, but they were back to their quiet, uninterested state.

Again, the relief was mixed with disappointment when the Mistress did not come back into the group to find another partner, but instead raised her hands again and spoke.

“The Goddess is pleased with your offerings. Now go forth and let your passions regain their strength, that you may offer to Her again.”

Then the Mistress was suddenly wearing her dress again, and Derek’s erection was subsiding, as was every man’s in the room. He felt the heaviness in his scrotum that told him he would ache hard, not having been able to find his own finish during the ordeal.

The room began to collectively dress, and Derek followed suit, though slowly and stiffly. His lack of climax was affecting him amazingly strongly, and he felt aches not only in his balls, but his knees and back. He was therefore among the later people to finish clothing themselves and leave the room.

As he stepped up to the door, however, he felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned to see the Mistress beside him.

“Do not go just yet, pretty one. I have another role for you to play.”