The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Shelly walked between the low tables of ornate stones and antiques. It was all a bit pricey for her, but it was fun to look. She had always wanted to furnish her apartment with a decor of sparse, elegant artifacts and tasteful solid tones. Thinking about it had become her favorite pastime, bordering on obsession. From serious books to articles in grocery counter magazines, she spent hours in fascinated wonder.

The design shows on the House and Home Channel made it look so simple, but it was anything but. First, coming up with a design was a challenge. Letting go of cherished but inappropriate furniture was difficult at best. And while it was done in less than a half hour on TV, in reality it would take a person with means weeks or months.

For Shelly, it would take years.

Still, she had her determination, and she thought that if she went a little at a time, she could eventually get it done.

She realized she had stopped walking and looked down. On the table, amid several medium-sized ornamental vases, was a little ceramic stone, about the size of a tangerine. At least, it looked like a stone. In addition, two slightly off-round holes were pressed in on the top, and the clay underneath had been pressed downward over a deep groove, creating a sad little face.

It looked like something a child might have made, but there was something behind it—a kind of purposefulness in how it had been done. It was dark brown with hints of orange in its highlights. It was quite charming, she decided.

She picked it up and looked on the bottom, expecting to find the usual price tag of several hundred dollars for a piece this size, and was pleasantly surprised to see a price of fifty dollars on the tag.

The old woman behind the counter walked over to where Shelly was standing. “So you’ve finally found something interesting?” she said.

Shelly glanced up at the woman. “Huh?” She was a bit perturbed at the break in her small but focused reverie.

“I’ve seen you in here quite a bit over the last few months.” She smiled. “It’s not a criticism, dear—some people come in here for years and never buy a single thing. I’ve kept my eye on you, though. I knew eventually you would find something.”

Shelly relaxed and laughed at herself a little. “Well, I’m sure if the prices were a leeeetle bit lower, more people would buy things,” she commented.

“Nonsense,” said the crone with a gentle chide. “If something gets to you, price makes no difference. Some people just don’t know themselves well enough to know what they’re looking for when they see it.”

“I guess that makes me kind of special, then,” laughed Shelly. “I know what I like by the price.”

She looked at the small, sad face in her hands. “What exactly is this thing, anyway?”

“It’s called a Dream Stone. Or, in some traditions, it’s called a Destiny Stone. They’re very rare, despite the low price. Authentic ones are said to date back as far as Babylonian culture. The price is part of the tradition. They are to be sold at one one-hundredth of value, because the ‘rest of the price is paid elsewhere’. Any more than that, and the seller is supposedly cursed. I don’t generally subscribe to such superstitions, but I got it at a low price, so I’m selling it at a low price.”

“Probably got it from her great-grandson,“ thought Shelly. Aloud, she said, “Well, maybe next time. Fifty dollars for a piece of spuriously haunted clay is more than my pocketbook will allow. Thanks for your help!” She handed the piece back to the smiling woman and turned to look at the other antiquities while making her way out of the store. She needed to be getting home, anyway.

“Turn around. Look at me,” said the woman.

Shelly pretended not to hear. She was already late, and she could feel the sales pitch coming.

“Look at me!”

Shelly cringed at the sudden shift in tone. It was much stronger then the moment before. She stopped for a moment. Something was crawling up her spine. She thought about bolting for the door and not ever coming back. In all those months of browsing, she’d never taken the old woman for a loon. She stepped towards the door.

She looked into the woman’s face.

Odd. She didn’t remember turning around. Yes. She definitely needed to go, and go now. She turned.

And kept turning.

She kept turning until she faced the ancient woman again.

“Relax. I’m not going to hurt you,” said the woman. Even so, Shelly knew the words implied that this crazy grandma was going to do something. Despite that thought, Shelly found herself quite at ease. That would have made her uneasy, too, except it wasn’t necessary. Not at all.

“You can see the power of this piece, can’t you?” said the woman, grinning now. Her teeth looked unnaturally white.

Shelly murmured, “Yes...”

“With this stone, you can make people do and feel anything you desire. For instance, you believe me completely. You know I only speak the truth. The truth arouses you, doesn’t it...”

Flames began to dance on Shelly’s clit. She gasped in surprise, but found that she was too relaxed to fight it. She watched as the woman placed her fingers in the “eyes” of the Dream Stone. “You see what I wish you to see.” The words sounded hollow, as if coming out of a long cardboard tube.

Light flashed and Shelly was standing before God Herself. There was no disorientation, no sense of things being out of place. It was just as it should be. God spoke the Truth. Shelly felt her arousal multiply, cascading through her like wind across fields of wheat.

God brought the stone to Her lips and licked the misshapen, sad mouth. “You speak what I wish you to speak.”

Shelly was visibly trembling now, swaying as her balance began to fall out from under her. She watched, lips parted and eyes wide as God took the stone and cupped it both Hands, pressing and rubbing it as if making a supernatural snowball. “You are what I wish you to be.”

Shelly fell to her knees, orgasm washing through her like water from a faucet through a sieve—unending and impossible, growing with each passing moment. She tried to moan, to scream, to do anything, but all she could to was fall the rest of the way to the floor, oblivious to anything around her, convulsing in unspeakable pleasure, her mouth wide as the scream inside her signalled the silent acquiescence of her soul. This was her destiny. It had been ordained by God.

Shelly turned over and looked up at God. God smiled and the angels sang.

“There is much Truth to learn. Truth you must pass on. You will not remember being here, or that I told you. The Truth is as basic to you as the beating of your heart. Doing My will fills you with love and pleasure, increasing each time... love and pleasure as you have never known...”

God continued long into the night, and Shelly found that she loved God more than anything else in the world.

Except, perhaps, doing Her will.

Shelly woke up feeling like she’d been run over. She got up and shuffled to the bathroom, not even bothering with her favorite fuzzy slippers. On her way to the toilet, she noticed something on the vanity.

She looked a little closer and saw that it was a little ceramic sculpture, with holes for the eyes and a sad little smile of a mouth. It was all implied, but very well done. ”That’s my Dream Stone...“ she thought. She wondered for a moment where that thought had come from, and then shivered as a tingle of pleasure made its way through her.

Once done with the once-in-a-lifetime daily event, she wiped herself dry and took a shower. By the time she got out, she was feeling quite a bit better. In fact, she was feeling really good.

She got dressed and went in to put on her makeup. Without warning, a wave of dizziness swept over her. ”Make up? Making up for what deficiency?“ she thought, again surprising herself. ”Makeup isn’t the will of God, girl,“ she continued. She put down her tube of foundation and trembled as deep arousal took hold of her.

By the time she left the house, hair down, face natural, and feeling sexy, she wasn’t questioning the random thoughts that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere.

Once she arrived at the office, she was almost feeling normal again, along with being quite invigorated. She sat down in her cubicle and pulled up her calendar. To her horror, she had completely forgotten that her annual evaluation was to happen at ten o’clock. Just as quickly, her horror was replaced with a nebulous sense of confidence that seemed to surround her and buoy her up. Like her thoughts she had no idea where it had come from, but she certainly wasn’t going to complain. ”Maybe God sent it,“ she thought, sighing happily as her nipples sang a serenade of bliss to her in response.

She sat back to enjoy the moment a little longer before getting to work.

Her phone was ringing. She picked it up, and in her best “company” voice, said, “Quality Assurance Dept, Shelly speaking. How may I help you?”

“Shelly, did you forget your evaluation? It was supposed to be at ten. I’m still waiting,” said the disembodied voice of Marsha Miller, her manager.

“Oh, shit! I mean, shoot! I mean, be right there!” said the flustered girl. Where the fuck had the time gone? She hung up, grabbed her purse and headed to Marsha’s office. She hated these things. They were usually pointless, and to make matters worse, it was required that she have flaws, and they were never the real flaws. It was so much going through the motions to make sure she wouldn’t get a raise.

She knocked on the open door, and Marsha waved her in, and then gestured for her to close it after her. “It’s okay, Shelly. My morning was light anyway. Let’s get down to it.”

Shelly braced herself. She’d always liked Marsha, so it was that much worse to hear criticism, especially when it was misplaced.

That didn’t prepare her for what was coming, however.

“Shelly, we can dispense with most of this, because we both know it’s just corporate bullshit. I’ve got some real concerns, though, and I want to discuss them with you before we go into your possible raise.

“Quite frankly, you’re one of my favorite employees—so it’s hard for me to say this. But both the quality and quantity of your work has dropped critically low. You’ve been going to interior design websites, reading books on company time... and it hasn’t gone unnoticed. Anyone else would have long since been let go. But you have history here. I know you can do good work. I’ve really tried to go to bat for you.

“But your ‘extra-curricular’ activities have even been noticed by the officers of the company. Your co-workers are complaining. We can go over specifics if you like, but I can tell you now, I’ve been told that I am not to give you a raise this year under any circumstances. And if your performance doesn’t visibly improve within ninety days, it might be time to look for ‘opportunities elsewhere’. I’m sorry to have to tell you like this.”

Shelly sat in stunned silence. She couldn’t believe her ears. Yes, she’d gone to a few websites, but nothing like she saw others doing. She was sure she was being singled out, and she felt her anger growing.

Face red, voice quivering, she said, “So if it’s so awful, why is this the first complain I’ve heard?”

“Because I’ve tried to make the case that you would snap out of it. I promise, I’m really on your side, Shel. But it’s gone beyond me.”

Tears replaced the anger as quickly as the anger had replaced muted dread. Shelly groped blindly for her purse and then reached in for a tissue. Her hand found a familiar shape and she gasped as a bolt of electricity charged up her arm and down into her crotch.

The Dream Stone. How had it gotten there? She didn’t remember putting it in her purse at all. She placed her hand around it, caressing it. It felt almost silky, like powdered baby-smooth skin. She pulled it out, and placed two fingers of her right hand in the “eye” holes without thinking.

She looked at Marsha. Before she knew what she was doing, words flew out of her mouth. “Marsha, this is total bullshit. I’ve had enough of you and the company, too. If you think I’m so bad, maybe you’re the one with the attitude, the one not doing the work. Maybe you should tell that to the company officers! Then go soak your head in a filthy shit-plugged toilet! Useless bitch!”

She ran from the office crying, not caring who saw it. She had been blindsided... backstabbed by someone she cared for, and it was too much to take. The outburst would be the end of her job, but it was too late to take it back, now. She found her desk, sank into her chair and cried, trembling from time to time as the pain of it teased her again.

Marsha had watched Shelly leave without moving a muscle. Now, five minutes later, a slight dribble of drool escaped the corner of her mouth. She shook herself awake and dialed the phone.

“Yes, Francis,” she said. “I need to talk to Mr. Morley as soon as possible. It’s very important. I have to explain a few things to him...”

“...so they found her in the bathroom, with her head in the toilet, deep enough that she could just breathe through her mouth. God, it was the one on the second floor, too... you know that nasty one that never gets fixed? Anyway, when they pulled her out, she started screaming like crazy and kicked the security guard in the crotch. By the time it was all over, it took like six security guards to get her out of there and to the limo to her rubber cell. Tim was saying she even had shit clinging to her hair—you know, I think I’ll pass on going out to lunch today...”

Lisa trailed off her gossip as Shelly walked by. The incident had created quite an uproar, and Shelly was the villain of choice, even though everyone knew she couldn’t have caused Marsha’s breakdown.

In fact, Shelly was aghast at what had happened to Marsha. She felt guilty, too. Despite knowing better, it was her words and anger that had pushed the best boss she’d ever had over the brink the day before. It was hard to believe that Marsha had lost it so completely. There hadn’t been any sign of it at all. There was only...

The Dream Stone.

It was too outrageous to contemplate. But it had gone just like she said. Marsha had called Jim Morley, the Senior Veep, and “admitted” that the lack of work was her own, and that she’d been pinning it on Shelly. And then she’d... done... that thing. It was just too gross. And too bizarre for words, except they were the very words that Shelly had spoken without a second thought.

Only partly against her will, a delicious shiver went through her body.

It was much too weird. She needed to go home. She reached into her purse and called Mr. Morleys’ office. With Marsha on permanent disability, he would be the one to approve her absence. The stone seemed to almost find her hand as she waited for Francis to connect them.

She fingered the eye holes casually. She was struck by how sexy it felt. Her pussy contorted and she nearly let a loud moan escape her lips. Again, words seemed to pour out of her lips without a thought of what they would be. “Jimbo, this is Shelly. You need to send me home. Is that okay?”

There was a long pause as she waited. “Okay,” came the muted answer.

“With pay,” she added, sounding just a tad sultry.

“With pay.”

Her voice began to ooze sex as she continued. “In fact, you would rather I didn’t have to work in the office at all. You want to give me a monthly ten percent raise and after hours, when everyone else has gone home, you want stay and finish whatever I don’t get done, because I’m obviously overworked and the most valuable employee this company has ever seen. You will finish it even if I have had more important things than work to do. Right?”

“Right.”

Shelly felt a smile move across her face as she lowered her head. “Oh, and next time your wife wants to have sex, tell her that you can’t because you masturbated ten times that day already, thinking about me. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good boy. Now, get to work.”

“Work...”

Shelly smiled as she walked out of the office. Something dark and sticky was taking root in her. It was giving her lots of ideas. Ideas that were becoming plans.

God was smiling on her today from Her throne of power.

She came at the thought.