The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

DISCLAIMER:

This material is for adults only; it contains explicit sexual imagery and non-consensual relationships. If you are offended by this type of material or you are under legal age in your area, do NOT continue.

WARNING:

This story contains depictions of mind-control, male-female sex, exhibitionism, and humiliation.

SUMMARY:

Things get interesting when the Demon of Gluttony is summoned at a popular college bar.

The Seven Deadly Sins

Chapter Two, Part 1: Strong Spirits

It was about ten o’clock on a brisk January evening when I approached the pub. Despite being known as a local dive-bar that catered primarily to underage college students, I admired the look of the joint. To the side of the building, which I passed on my way to the pub’s front entrance, was a beautifully crafted iron fence enclosing a charming little veranda from which patrons could enjoy the fresh, albeit chilling, night air. Inside the veranda was a seemingly out-of-place picnic table where a small group of teenagers sat laughing and drinking some brand of light beer.

I never did keep myself up to speed with the politics of humans, but I thought I remembered something about an age requirement with respect to the consumption of alcohol. The littleness of the college-town combined with the jovial nature of its student population, led me to conclude that the enforcement of said politics were being characteristically lax.

Unlike most of my brothers and sisters, I possessed a remarkable control over many of my abilities. Telepathy, for instance, came quite naturally to me. I began to soak in the thoughts of the group, imbibing their memories as did they their alcohol, each one another piece to puzzling mystery of why I was here.

As I’ve been told, this pestering ignorance was another difference between my siblings and me. Each of them appeared to their victims precognizant of “who” and “why”—whereas my clairvoyance ended with “where”. I knew not who I was looking for, or what they had done summon me; I could, however, strongly sense the general vicinity wherein they hid. I would have to examine them all until I found the one to whom I was bound.

I continued to probe deeper into their minds, listening to their thoughts, then secrets, and finally stopped at their desires. I took a knee and began to untie and retie my shoe, buying more time as I sifted through their well-known predilections, searching for their most coveted fetishes.

Like most young humans, these were the inner-most blocks of their consciousness. Only a small handful of humans, at this stage of their lives, was even aware of them. Fantasies, aspirations, secrets—none of these compared to the deep-rooted needs of the Freudian id. When finished with my victim’s punishment, I would often absolve my guilt in the knowledge that I had helped him or her find a previously unreachable plateau of self-awareness. Ironically, it was one of my former victims—an Austrian psychoanalyst by the name of Sigmund Freud—who eventually coined and defined the id, and it was this building-block of human personality that never failed to inspire the well-suited acts of degradation such as the ones that would take place later tonight.

After a few more minutes of probing, I was convinced that these were not the young patrons for whom I was here. I finished tying the laces of my shoe (for the fourth time) and walked casually toward the front of the building.

When I rounded the corner, I saw a long line of young adults, fidgeting in the cold while they waited patiently to enter the bar. I quickly skimmed over their thoughts, lest one of them be my target; but none were. In the front of the line stood an older man and his wife, looking sadly out of place amidst the younger crowd. For the most part, they all seemed like relatively nice humans, and I had no reason to risk them becoming somehow involved in what was coming.

All sins are different in their own way, and mine has always been somewhat . . . contagious. The demonic energy bound to the sin of Gluttony is extremely influential. Indeed, my brothers have confessed to me that of all the demonic energies bestowed upon our family, mine is perhaps the most powerful. Of course, that does not include our sister Luxuria, whose unique gifts put her in a whole other class of demon.

Unfortunately, having power does not always mean that I can control it. The nature of my sin is indulgence, and, if you could see it like I can, you would know that it is a whirlwind of gluttonous destruction which, once unleashed, cannot be bottled again so easily. To sum it all up, I practically radiate indulgence in one form or another; bystanders and interlopers are almost always caught in my wake. It was for this reason that I, only moments ago, had quickly devised a plan to send these people on their way—but I would first need to get inside.

I approached the husband and wife duo who led the front of the line. The woman wore a cashmere sweater-and-scarf combination that complimented her pair of designer jeans, while her husband—an exceptionally tall and handsome fellow—donned a long-sleeve button-down shirt and slacks.

“Excuse me, sir,” I asked the man in polite fashion, “Do you mind if I cut in front of you? It’s important.”

“Yes, he fucking minds! Go wait at the end like everybody else,” snapped his wife.

I was admittedly taken aback by the woman’s indignant reproach. Had she known that I was attempting to save them from a particularly unpleasant evening, she might have restrained her misguided provocation. I was annoyed to say the least; nonetheless, I again tried to pass.

“I apologize, sir, but if you’ll simply let me through, I can expla-,” I began.

“I said beat it, shithead!”

I examined the husband one last time, looking for some defense for his wife’s behavior, but he simply stared at me disdainfully before turning away, ignoring the situation.

“You’re right ma’am, I’m sorry,” I apologized. I thought I heard one of them make a scoffing sound as I walked away.

Behind them stood a young woman who had watched the situation unfold in front of her. She reached out and grabbed my arm softly as I walked past her. “Hey, you can cut here if you want,” she whispered, “Just don’t let them see.” She gestured toward the couple in front.

I looked at her and smiled. The girl had just unwittingly rescued herself, and a couple dozen others, from potential demonic corruption.

“Thank you,” I said. She gave me a friendly smile and a nod.

I stepped in front of the girl as the line moved along. A massive young man sat guarding the entrance to bar. The expression on his face told me he wanted nothing more than to leave his post and revel in the festivities taking place behind him.

I watched as the doorman absently checked the drivers’ licenses of the couple in front of me. Confirming that they were, in fact, as old as dirt, he then took money from the husband, and handed them each a wrist band.

I took a deep breath and shook off the languor. Here we go. I stepped forward and looked up to him and locked my eyes on his.

“Hi, my name is Gula and I’m with the fire marshal’s office,” I said using my influence.

I stepped left, blocking the view of the line behind me, and handed the young man a slip of paper. In reality, what I handed him was little more than crumpled up lint from my pocket, but to him it was an official document from the city’s fire marshal demanding their full cooperation in my assessment of their compliance with the building’s max-capacity restrictions.

“I’m going to need you to keep these doors closed until I’m finished with my assessment,” I explained while he stared blankly at the scrap of wrinkled paper in his hands. “Please do not let anybody in until further notice.”

“Oh geez. Um . . . Maybe you should wait here while I get the manager,” he stuttered.

“No, no. I’ll go speak with the manager. You just stay here and make sure nobody else comes in,” I said before proceeding toward the main hall.

“Wait, don’t you need this?” he asked, holding the paper.

“No. You keep it,” I replied.

I couldn’t help but laugh as he folded the piece of thrash neatly and placed it in his back pocket before shooing away the line at the door.

I continued on, walking through the pub’s narrow antechamber and into the main hall. I was surprised at the size of the place; it was easily a few thousand square feet. Dividing the room down the middle was a large bell-shaped bar that began near the front entrance, and curved outward until it reached the back wall. To my left, there were six or seven tables, a few dimly lit booths, and a large area for dancing. On the other side of the bar, and to my right, were more booths, but instead of a dance floor, I could see several pool and foosball tables.

Coolly, I walked up to the bar and took a seat near the dance floor. Okay, focus. I closed my eyes and let the thousands of thoughts, memories, and desires wash over me. I immediately cataloged a dozen candidates for punishment, but none yet that would warrant demonic meddling.

Come on. I know you’re here somewhere, sinner.

The influx of thoughts and memories quickened as my power slowly gained momentum. Affording only a split-second each, I hastily judged the true identities of the young men and women as they enjoyed themselves in blissful ignorance. I noticed a nearly-morbidly obese gentleman at the end of the bar, but quickly ruled him out. I’m normally summoned for the more out-of-the-box forms of Gluttony.

One by one I decided their fate, until finally I settled on one—Sarah.

I knew from those around her that Sarah was a magnificent spoiled bitch if there ever was one. Having enrolled in college a year ago, Sarah now maintained a near-perfect grade point average, belonged to the collegiate cheerleading squad, and was a high-ranking member of her favorite sorority. Though she was normally the life of the party, this 19-year-old princess spent the majority of her time making miserable the lives of those around her. The vengeful actions that this girl had taken against some of her closest friends made me wonder how Ira had not yet paid her a visit. That being said, Sarah’s Wrathful indecencies were not my concern. Her Gluttony, however, was.

The sorority of which Sarah was a member, was the local chapter of Pi Pi Pi, or “Tri-Pi” as they were called. Although all Tri-Pi’s were well known for their alcoholic proclivities, Sarah’s boisterous tendencies had long ago surpassed those of her sisters. Little did Sarah know, even her status at the university was being called in to question that very week, after some questionable photos—including one of Sarah performing carnal acts wearing only her lettermen jacket—had surfaced on the internet. Additionally, many of the Tri-Pi’s had grown tired of her antics, and were eagerly awaiting an excuse to send the little bitch packing. Ultimately, Sarah’s careless over-indulgence of alcohol was destroying her life, and for this reason I was summoned.

Sensing her thoughts from somewhere behind me, I turned around in my chair and began scanning the crowd for its source. In no time at all, I noticed the pack of cute Tri-Pi sisters slowly carving their path to the bar, only stopping to occasionally grind themselves on the young men spewing drunken cajolery into their ears. One particularly bubbly Tri-Pi, who was no-doubt the queen bee of this crew, stumbled up next to me at the bar-top.

“SHOTS, BITCHES!” She screamed, attracting gawks from nearby patrons and bartenders.

As her friends responded with a high-pitched cheer of approval, the blonde pulled out her purse and seated herself on the empty chair next to mine. She wore a black dress that kept her tits squeezed together and showed off her cleavage. The bottom of her silk dress had a tendency to ride up her thighs, and she constantly tugged at it as she attempted to regain some composure.

With a friendly smile, the girl waved at the nearest bartender, who then diverted his eyes and pretended not to notice her hand. The bartender—a well-built and handsome boy who looked to be somewhere in his mid-twenties—clearly recognized the girl . . . and wanted nothing to do with her.

“Hey! Excuse me! Hey, bartenderrr . . . Yoohooo,” bellowed the belligerent blonde.

Quickly realizing that she had no intention of leaving him alone, the young bartender conceded and gradually walked closer to take her order.

“What’ll it be this time, Sarah?”

Hello, Sarah, I thought to myself.

“Just your phone number, sexy,” she flirted with the bartender, albeit poorly.

The young man rolled his eyes and sighed loudly, but before he could leave, the girl reached over the bar and put her hand on his.

“Wait! I’m just kidding,” she laughed, “We really do need a round of shots.”

“Actually, I think you’ve had enough for tonight.” He pulled his hand away from hers.

“Oh c’mon, Mark! Don’t be a dick.”

The girl pushed out her bottom lip and wrinkled her eyebrows, giving him a very cute pouty-face. Mark only lasted a few seconds before smiling.

“Fine, but this is it for tonight. I’m serious this time,” Mark surrendered to the girl for a second time.

“Yay!” Sarah exclaimed. “I need seven shots of whiskey. Thanks, cutie!”

Lucky number seven. I quipped to myself.

“Yeah, yeah,” replied Mark. He then grabbed a stack of plastic shot cups and walked away.

“Pfft. What a fucking loser,” she scoffed once he was out of earshot. Sarah quickly discarded her bubbly façade and slumped back into her chair. I watched silently as she stole a cigarette from a pack that was lying unattended on the bar. She then took the pack—which I assume belonged to whichever poor bastard was sitting on the other side of her—and dropped it into her purse. Afterwards, she pulled a lighter from her purse and brought it to meet the cigarette in her mouth. However, just as her thumb pushed down on the igniter, her eyes darted upward to see me watching her, and she realized I had probably just witnessed her acting like a complete bitch to the bartender before stealing another person’s cigarettes.

At this point, I had already burrowed about as deep as I could into her mind. I had read every last memory, secret, and desire that had ever popped into her evil imagination. I could hear her inner-most thoughts as easily as I could hear my own, and I listened closely while she weighed her options.

Is this guy for real? She thought. How long as this creeper been watching me? Uggh . . . whatever. I’ll just give him a cute smile, a glimpse of the ladies—referring to her tits—maybe rub my hand on his thigh. That should keep him quiet.

She put her cigarette and lighter back into her purse, and then smiled at me.

“Hi, what’s your name?”

“Well it’s Gula, but I mostly go by Gary,” I responded over the blaring speakers.

“What?” She leaned in slightly and put her hand on my knee. In this position, her ample cleavage was clearly visible. Despite her detestable personality, I had to admit that she was certainly attractive. Even we demons had a weakness for the human flesh, and hers was eliciting a growing response from the massive organ in my trousers.

“I said my name is Gary!”

This time she leaned even closer and spoke directly into my ear, letting me feel the warmth of her breath on my earlobe, “Oh, I love that name!”

“Thanks! What’s your name?!”

“Sarah!”

“I love that name too!” I lied. “So did I just hear you order whiskey?”

“Mm hmm,” she said breathily into my ear, “You sure did. Why? Do you like whiskey?”

This guy is too pathetic, she thought. I better back off before this loser blows a load right here in front of everyone.

With that, Sarah pulled away from my ear and, with an uppity smirk, slouched back into her chair. I found the silent comment to be mildly annoying, but it did give me some ideas.

“Whiskey, huh? Isn’t that a little strong for you girls?” I asked playfully.

“Hah! Well I’ve been drinking it all night and I’m doing alright so far,” she snarked.

“Really?” I asked. “You know, I’ve heard that whiskey can make you really horny.”

For once, Sarah found herself a little speechless. Her first instinct was to laugh off the remark, but there was something peculiar about the way I said it that made it almost seem . . . true. Sarah was suddenly uncomfortably aware of the cool air against her exposed cleavage. Why the hell are my titties—I mean my boobies—argh! My breasts! Why are they so sensitive all of a sudden?

“Is something the matter?” I asked playfully.

“I don’t know, hehe,” she giggled. Her voice now sounded much more jovial, and seemed to fit the bubbly façade she was using earlier. “It’s just that my titties feel so sentitive . . . senstitive . . . Um, they’re all tingly!” Sarah leaned forward and pulled the neckline of her dress down until her nipples came into view. The little nubs were now like tiny diamonds. “See?”

The persona only lasted a moment before Sarah’s mind snapped back to reality.

What the fuck?! She quickly straightened herself and pulled the neckline of her dress back up over her sensitive breasts. Sarah looked down at her hands as if they weren’t her own. She knew she could get a little wild sometimes, but she would never just flash her breasts like that to a total stranger like that. And what was with that voice? She sounded like a complete airhead. Like a . . . bimbo.

Sarah felt her face get warm and realized that she was blushing. She wanted to bury herself deep in a hole somewhere. Ever since those photos began cropping up on the internet, she’d been so careful not to do anything lewd in public. How could she possibly just lose control like that? She looked up and realized I was staring again. For a minute she had forgotten I was there.

“Hey, look . . . Um, I don’t know what came over me just now but let’s not make a big deal out of it okay?” she explained.

“It’s fine. I’m sure it is just all that whiskey kicking in,” I replied.

Sarah felt a sudden twitch in her tummy and clenched her thighs together tightly. It was spreading; she felt the tingling sensation move down from her nipples and into her stomach. With a jump, she sat up straight as she felt another wave of arousal wash over her. The tingling sensation continued inching its way down, over the small patch of yellow fur she kept above her vagina, and finally settling on her clit, pressing against it like a wet tongue.

Oooh . . . my cunny! Sarah thought. She was now sitting up straight, clenching her legs together tightly, and trying her best not to move. Sarah knew, without a doubt, that she had left her house wearing a turquoise thong; but now, for some reason, it felt as though she weren’t wearing anything under her dress.

“Boy that whiskey must really be doing a number on you, isn’t it?” I asked, toying with her.

“Of course not, silly!” said Sarah in her best bimbo voice. “I shaved my cunny earlier tonight and it just feels funny! That’s all!”

“I’m not sure I believe you,” I smirked, “Maybe you should show me.”

“Uugh, fine!” exclaimed Sarah. She lifted her butt off the chair and spread her legs until the narrow bottom of her dress snapped up over her thighs, confirming that she was indeed not wearing any panties. She then rested her butt-cheeks back down onto the cold chair, and using her hands, pulled her knees up to her chest. After years of cheerleading, Sarah was quite flexible, and had no difficulty stretching her knees back until they pressed tightly against the sides of her tits. Meanwhile, with her legs spread wide and her heels resting calmly on her thighs, Sarah’s bald pussy—which now appeared slightly red and swollen with anticipation—was left completely exposed.

“See? Told you, stupid head!” She remained in that position while I examined the fat pussy lips of her cunt.

“Hmm. I’m still not sure I believe you.” I moved my hand to her face and tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. Slowly, I leaned in closer while she continued to press her knees tightly against her chest. I pressed my lips to her ear.

“As a matter of fact, I bet you’re so horny that you wish someone would just finger you right here at the bar,” I whispered softly before licking her earlobe. I then traced my tongue under the lobe and lifted it into my mouth before nibbling on it softly.

I could sense Sarah’s initial reaction was to slap me—or at least cause some sort of scene—yet she didn’t. Instead, she just sat there despite herself, leaning back with her cheek pressed against mine, her legs spread lewdly with her knees touching the sides of her tits, while my tongue moved from the lobe to the inside of her ear.

The formerly loud-mouthed teen gasped as she felt my fingers trace the back of her thigh. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she continued to hold herself in that vulnerable position. Gently, I slipped two fingers into her freshly shaved pussy. Sarah’s grip tightened on her knees as I curled the two fingers upward and found her g-spot.

I heard Sarah’s mind once again begin to race frantically. Oh god, not again . . . she thought. She stifled a moan as the tingling sensation once again began to make its way downward. Her eyes widened in horror as she felt the tingling move over her pussy, and spread slowly downward between her cheeks.

No! No! No! What the fuck! No!

She obviously did not like where this was going, yet her butt wiggled with anticipation as the tingling continued to ease its way between her cheeks and into her asshole.

Nnnghhh . . . She bit her lip hard to keep from grunting loudly.

As I continued to passionately slide my fingers up and down the walls of her pussy, the tingling in her bum started to get worse. Although she’d never let anyone touch her ass before, Sarah could swear that there was a fat wet tongue deeply licking her butthole, and occasionally even slipping inside her ass.

Without stopping my ministrations, I stood up in front of Sarah and, with my free hand, unzipped the front of my pants and slid out my demon cock. Hearing the sound of my zipper, Sarah looked down at the large piece of meat I held my hand and let out a gasp of shock. She looked up at me in terror.

“It looks like your butt needs some attention too,” I said coolly.

Oh my god, please . . . no . . .

“OMIGOD! Please, yes,” she whispered into my ear.

“Are you sure? It’s pretty big for your first time,” I said, referring to the demon dick in my hand. The massive member was at least three inches in diameter at the base of the head.

“Mmmmh, definitely!” blurted Sarah as she scooted down a little bit more until her now ultra-sensitive asshole was just as exposed as her pussy. She pressed her lips against my ear.

“Please stretch my tiny asshole, daddy,” Sarah heard herself whisper.

To her credit, she had never stopped struggling with the ideas that swirled within her head, although her body had long ago decided to ignore her commands. Sarah looked down at her hands and strained to move them, but they remained inexplicably glued to her knees; nevertheless, the inner dialog continued as she concentrated harder.

Come on! Work dammit! Please! Sarah pleaded with her hands to obey her. Do NOT let him stick that inside your ass! It’ll ruin you! Let. Go. Of my fucking. Knees.

To her surprise, one hand did begin to move.

Yes! That’s it! her mind shouted in triumph. Ha ha! Now you’re gonna get it you fucking pervert!

Slowly, and with great difficulty, the hand released one of her knees—which unfortunately remained in its current position next to her chest. With as much strength as she could muster, Sarah gradually moved her hand off her knee and towards my neck.

Yes! Yes! That’s it! Grab that motherfucker by his god-damn throat!

As she cheered silently, Sarah couldn’t help but notice that progress was slow, and somewhere along the way her hand seemed to change direction.

No! What the fuck are you doing! Get up there and choke that loser!

Sarah’s hand stopped at her collarbone, gripped the neckline of her dress, and pulled it down over one of her perky tits. Sarah gasped as a pink nipple popped into view, still painfully erect and sensitive. Her hand then slid over and repeated the action on her opposite side. Once both her breasts were fully exposed, the rogue appendage returned calmly to her knee.

“I thought you might want to look at these puppies while you push that fat cock of yours into my ass,” she heard herself whisper seductively before giving my ear a gentle lick.

“You know it, babe,” I said.

Still holding my demon cock, I began to rub it up and down between her butt-cheeks until it began leaking large amounts of precum over her pink asshole. Then, using my thumb, I slowly pushed the tip inside her until her sphincter snapped shut around the flared head of my dick; but wasn’t until my cock started sliding back and forth that Sarah found herself on the verge of a massive orgasm.

“Mmmph . . . nnnngghhh.” A slutty moan escaped her lips as the combination of my fingers and cock worked her closer to climax. Eventually she resorted to locking her mouth around my earlobe to keep from making any more noise. I knew it wouldn’t be long now. Soon, her breathing grew louder and faster while her pussy seemed to tighten around my fingers.

“Mmpphh . . . don’t stop. Please . . . don’t stop . . .” she pleaded softly into my ear.

I slid my long dick faster in and out of her ass. Meanwhile my fingers worked her g-spot flawlessly. Then, just as I felt her asshole begin its clenching spasms around my cock, Sarah cried out, “DON’T STOP!”

* * *

“Stop what?” asked Mark as he set the whiskey shots down on the bar in front of Sarah.

With the widest smile I could muster, I watched in amusement as Sarah awoke from her wild daydream. Panicking, she quickly looked at Mark, then, realizing I was still here, she turned to face me.

“You . . .” Sarah began, but then quickly realized that I was several feet away, fully clothed with my hands resting comfortably on the bar.

“Yes?” I asked casually.

She opened her mouth, but realized she had nothing to say. What could she say? None of what just happened was even possible. Quickly she reached down to the sides of her dress and felt the straps of her turquoise thong that she put on before going out tonight. Then, much to my delight, Sarah gave me an almost pitiful look as she realized none of it was real. Slowly, she connected the dots, and realized that she had just come very close to having a wet daydream right in front of a bar full of people.

“Sarah? Stop what?” Marked asked again.

“Um, nothing. How, um . . . how much for the shots?” Sarah answered, trying her best not to give away the fact that her pussy was still dripping with arousal—or the fact that she might literally be going insane.

“Twenty-four fifty,” replied Mark.

As I watched her fumble for the change in her purse, I couldn’t help but feel rather proud of myself. I had just managed to snipe a victim within a tightly packed crowd of bar-goers, and I didn’t involve a single innocent bystander. And now, with my job done, I felt it was about time for me to take my leave.

Sarah handed Mark thirty dollars. “Keep the change.”

Hmm. I pondered the situation further. Looking back, I suppose she did get off quite easily. No, Gula. You’ve done enough. Just go before things get worse.

Sarah lit one of her stolen cigarettes with a shaky hand. I watched as her pouty lips sucked greedily on the end of the Marlboro. The spectacle encouraged another arousing throb from my crotch.

Well, I suppose I could stick around just a little while longer . . .