The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

In the new dawn light, bright orange flames blew from the tall glass windows, twisting and licking in the wind against the floors above them. Black gouts of smoke drifted upwards, shrouding the tower.

A sudden explosion from several floors above sent shards of glass flying down onto the plaza, sending fire personnel scattering. A wave of screams rose in response from the crowds held back behind the police lines. More fires flickered at intermittent intervals up and down the length of the Brooke building.

“What the fuck happened to my building?” Louis Brooke’s teeth bared. “Who. The. Fuck. Let this happen!?”

The black limousine nosed through the crowds and traffic to reach the police barricades. The television feed inside the car continued to show the pictures as breathless reporters fished around for something new to say to each other.

“They’re going to want a statement! Fuck!” Brooke pressed his hands against his forehead.

Aryella Snowe gave him something else to think about. “Louis. Cigarette.”

The handsome blond whipped out a silver cigarette box from the inside pocket of his dark suit, unsnapped the lid, removing a delicate hand-rolled cigarette before returning the cigarette case to its pocket.

The fringe of her short, black hair flopping down almost over her cold blue eyes, Aryella tilted her head slightly to one side to allow Louis to place the cigarette between her lips. He cupped his hands around the end as he lit it for her.

She took it between the fingers of her right hand, crooking them delicately, blowing the smoke out through her nostrils.

Aryella brought her cigarette to her lips again and relaxed back into the patent leather seats, taking a long delicious drag as she half-listened to Louis whine beside her.

Only a matter of time, she thought. She exhaled through her nose once more.

“Aryella, what do I do?”

Ah, there it is.

“You let me take care of it, Louis, just like always. You know you can trust in me.”

His eyes glazed over for a second. His jaw dropped and then closed, a slow dreamy smile spreading across his face. “Yes . . . I trust in you. Mistress.”

Aryella’s official job position with Louis Brooke, billionaire genius inventor and founder of Brooke Industries, carried the title, “majordomo,” however, she privately liked to think of it as “Grand Vizier.” Brooke could always invent fabulous new devices—and still did—but since meeting Aryella, several years previously, his life had become ever-so-much more focused. Specifically, on whatever Aryella told him it should be focused on.

She patted his thigh.

“The news reports say SIU are on the scene,” she waved her cigarette at the screen. “So it’s probably something terribly outlandish and potentially profitable if we can get our hands on it. And besides, the building is insured against meta-human damage. We’ll probably come out ahead on this . . . whatever it is.”

Louis Brooke whined. Brooke Industries (motto: “be the good guys”) had branched out since Aryella took over his mind, sorry, became Grand Vizier. Thought control transmitters. Phenotypic genetic alteration. Viral aphrodisiacs. Hallucinatory drugs. Nanite conversion chambers. Hypnotic ray-guns. And the stock price certainly indicated Aryella knew how to maximize quarterly profit, but some part of Louis Brooke still wanted to be the good guy.

It amused Aryella.

“Louis, why don’t you look in the cabinet.”

She flicked ash at the mahogany chest set in the seat behind the chauffeur. Louis looked at her with wide eyes.

Her eyes hooded and she took another drag. “There’s a little something in there for you. . . . I worked out in them this morning.”

She listened to Louis fumbling and gasping in arousal. She smiled when she heard the sound of his nostrils inhaling.

That takes care of that, she thought. “You can give a statement to the media later, I’ll draft it up for you.”

Admitted past the police lines, the limousine stopped on the far corner of the Brooke Building plaza. The blonde chauffeur hopped out and dashed around to open the door for Aryella. She stepped out onto the plaza.

Her cyber-biomesh shifted, dropping the holographic business suit display, exposing the delicate blue and silver metal web covering her body. Bright threads glowed along the sides of her thighs and arms, wrapping under and around her high breasts, to end up flowing over her neck. The web meshed into her skin, gossamer-thin and transparent across her lean thighs and ripped stomach.

Right, she thought, gazing up at the burning glass tower. Before I go in and tear whoever-the-hell-is-in-there a new one, I suppose I should talk to the so-called authorities.

Aryella saw a couple of black vans up ahead, parked up on the edge of the outdoor plaza by the fire engines. A clutch of police officers in riot gear with “SIU” painted on their chests stood in a circle by the vans with black automatic rifles on their shoulders and ridiculous-looking swords and crossbows on their backs.

Oh, terrific, she thought, the super-cops have come prepared for an outing to the thirteenth century.

“Which one of you is in charge?”

A very tall woman with a riot helmet on her head sat in the lotus position, a long red hair braid hanging down over her left shoulder, eyes closed. The other officers watched her intently.

Aryella realized the redhead floated an inch off the ground.

A psychic, she thought, with epic tits.

Aryella licked her lips and raised her voice.

“Excuse me, officers, as you know I’m sure, my name is Aryella Snowe aka Frostburn and I am Mr. Louis Brooke’s official personal representative in all matters. Who of you is in charge?”

A giant African-American male carrying a black automatic rifle across his chest, silver handgun strapped to his thigh, and a two-handed sword and a crossbow on his back, turned to face her. Aryella opened her mouth to speak to him, but the giant man raised a finger to his lips.

Aryella blinked, the color rising to her cheeks.

“Who is in charge!? I’ll ring your Commissioner and have you all doing traffic duty by noon if I don’t get somebody to speak to. Right. Fucking. Now!”

The redhead emitted a loud sigh and opened one eye. Aryella had never seen an eye such a disturbing shade of green.

“I’m in charge. Shut the fuck up.”

The redhead shut her eye again.

Aryella gagged, her cigarette about to smack the redhead with expert precision between the eyes. The giant African-American cop took her by the elbow and leaned down to her ear.

“She’s remote viewing. It’s a clusterfuck in there. Psychic vampires or some shit like that.”

Aryella’s cigarette paused mid-launch. “Psychic vampires?”

“Yes. I’m Detective Sergeant Callaghan, that’s our Lead Detective Rebecca McCandliss. She’ll be with you in a moment if you just wait.”

Aryella took a drag. She pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth, her lips pressed together. Vampires, she thought, bio-weapons potential off-the-chart.

The redhead’s eyes opened and she placed her palms on the ground. She lowered her feet down and then stood, towering above Aryella.

“Pleased to meet you, Frostburn. I’m Lead Detective Rebecca McCandliss of Infinity City PD Special Investigations Unit, and as of this moment, this is an SIU crime scene. What can we do for you?”

Callaghan moved to assist McCandliss with strapping on her bulletproof vest. The other officers stepped back behind her.

A gorgeous red-haired psychic with the weirdest emerald eyes and big soft tits, thought Aryella. I want one.

“I represent the owner, Mr. Louis Brooke, I trust I don’t need to explain who he is?” Aryella raised her eyebrows and scanned the cop’s faces, none moved a muscle. She could feel her color rising again. “So. Let’s establish a friendly co-operative relationship, mmm? Tell me—what brings SIU here?”

“Vampire attack on Mr. Brooke’s building, Frostburn.”

Aryella listened. She pictured the cop, naked and glazy-eyed before her, in black thigh-high socks with flames running up the sides. Yes, the lesbian sock fetishist subliminals, haven’t used them on somebody in a while.

“They attacked during the night and they’re still inside now—with more vampires and thralls. It looks like your security managed to throw a couple of vampires out a window just after dawn.”

McCandliss nodded to some dark ash stains on the plaza. White chalk marks had been drawn around them.

Aryella’s eyes narrowed. Maybe, on the other hand, slutty schoolgirl, red pigtails and white ankle socks. She took a drag on her cigarette.

“They’re obviously not the sparkly kind of vampire.” The redhead sniffed.

“Unfortunately, my remote viewing shows they’re also not the sort that go to bed after sun up. Your security . . . is mostly dead.”

“And given the psychic interference in there, they’re not products of some virus gone wrong.” She gestured at her officers. “We have a unit ready to go in once the flames in the lobby have been put out.”

Oh, well, thought Aryella, business calls.

She pursed her lips. “Fascinating. Well. I can’t have vampires in Mr. Brooke’s building, can I, detective?”

She dipped her cigarette at the detective.

“Do not get in my way.”

The cop’s lips curled at one corner.

“Have you ever fought vampires, Frostburn? It is extremely inadvisable for you to attempt to try to do so without support, none is available at this time other than SIU. Whatever is in there is better approached with caution.”

Aryella put her cigarette to her lips again and savored the tobacco. Louis had it flown in especially for her from beneath the equator once a month.

“Have you read my file, detective? Your colleague said they’re psychic vampires.”

She gestured at Callaghan who held a hand up, palm-flat.

“Well, I’ve fought psychics—people like you, detective—quite successfully. I have defenses.”

McCandliss shook her head. “Not the same. We operate on the same wavelength as them, but these are super-natural entities with unpredictable operating principles.”

“They die if I cut their head off, don’t they, detective?”

McCandliss pressed her lips together and nodded.

“Well, I expect their heads come off just as easily if you use a laser to do that instead of,”—she inclined her head towards Callaghan again—“King John’s sword. All I see here are guns and crossbows and swords, detective, I don’t see any of you wearing a cyber-biomesh war suit designed by Louis Brooke.”

“Yes, Ms. Snowe. But there is something up there in the penthouse that is making remote viewing in the building hell to do—and that means it’s an old one.”

“Oh, please, Ms. McCandliss, don’t try to inflate the threat level because of your own lack of competence.”

The redhead’s brow furrowed. “You’re a registered meta-human, Ms. Snowe, and you’ve stated you believe yourself competent. So I don’t have authority to stop you without a court order, but I strongly suggest you wait for us to join you before going in there.”

Aryella flicked ash to the side, a spark or two danced as it fell from the end of her cigarette. “Typical. Our taxpayer dollars at work.”

She warmed to her subject.

“You know, Ms. McCandliss, we—in the private sector—have to actually get results,” she held up the index finger and thumb of her left hand a fraction apart, “a teensy little bit quicker than you do. And we’re also not trying to use technology from the medieval. Fucking. Ages.”

Cold blue eyes on McCandliss, she stubbed her cigarette out on the concrete plaza.

Oh, no, thought Aryella, this one will wear chains and I’ll ride her like a pony.

The bright threads running across her body strobed and her feet left the ground. She banked in the air above the cops.

The cyber-biomesh rippled across her skin, the shining blue lenses swinging across her eyes, data displays blinking and flashing in the corners of her vision. She ignited the blue energy nimbus beneath her feet. The ooh’s and aah’s from the crowd behind the police barricades made it worthwhile.

Frostburn ascended towards the top of the burning tower.

Her black automatic rifle slung over her right shoulder, the handle of a katana peering over her left, Rebecca McCandliss raised her head looking up at the tower through the black smoke. She pulled the big silver handgun from her thigh holster and checked the sight before re-placing the gun against her thigh.

“Tell the fire department to hurry it up, please.”

Callaghan nodded and jogged off.

Frostburn rose through the smoke, seeing her own reflection shimmer in the glass windows of the tower.

The digital streams at the corner of her vision told Aryella the tower’s security systems had been compromised during the small hours of the morning.

I’d like to meet the person who did that, she thought, worth a hire.

She glided upwards past the smoothly curving windows towards the roof, focusing on one of the black-clad figures observing her. Apparently afraid, it disappeared for a second, before returning with three others. One of them balanced a green pipe on their shoulder, pointing it in her direction until flames licked out from it, smoke exhausting from the back.

Aryella’s senses expanded, the rush of endorphins making her gasp. As her cyber-biomesh processed the stream of new data, her vision sharpened, and the mesh exponentially increased the adrenaline rushing through her system.

She could see the green flecks of paint on the end of the rocket grenade, and the scorch marks left by the hot muzzle of the pipe. She let it drift by her like a child’s balloon come loose in the park.

A line of drool slipped over her lips as she shot above the roof, her pussy weeping with the thrill.

Turning high above the black-clad figures, Frostburn twisted as the little metal pellets puffed through the air around her. The figures on the roof, below, looked like insects scuttling around in panic, their long black sticks flashing flame.

She turned in the sky, while the insects, sensing their failure to stop her, started to scuttle from the boot about to fall on them. New neural networks flowered through her brain as she dived toward them, her mouth opened in rictus.

She broke the rocket-launching insect’s neck first.

The rest died nearly as quick.

Aryella trailed the tip of a finger over her left breast, tipping her head back and letting her other hand cup her mound through her mesh. Her eyes fluttered closed as she came. The broken bodies of the black-clad thralls lay at odd angles on the rooftop.

Violence always gave her an intense sexual high. She shook her head to clear it. She could hear helicopters circling in the distance, and wondered if the footage would make the news shows.

If it didn’t, she’d have Louis release it on the web, market testing showed that “ruthless punisher of evildoers” played better than “firm but fair defender of justice.” And the fact that a few adult pirate versions existed showing her getting off afterward only enhanced her web traffic.

She started to come down and walked across the roof to slide the black reflective screen door to the penthouse back.

The polished hardwood stairs leading into the penthouse curled down into darkness. For the viewing pleasure of those ascending or descending, a seventeenth century oil painting of a nude Olympian couple in the throes of passion hung high on the wall opposite.

Aryella attempted to access the penthouse’s systems, but without success, which didn’t come as a surprise.

No sound reached her from out of the darkness. The data-streams in her eyes indicated her motion sensors detected nothing. She switched on the mesh’s internal cameras.

The net will go crazy for Frostburn versus vampires, she thought, probably pick up some new sponsors for the site.

It still burned her that Voltira The Electric Girl got a greater volume of weekly hits. Little tart.

She switched to night-sight, green shapes and shadows appearing before her eyes as she descended. Long lines of high bookcases curved around the walls, soft leather reading chairs surrounded low pine tables, the curtains to the high windows had been drawn.

Aryella walked down the spiral staircase and stepped onto the floor. No sound, no movement, nothing.

She picked her way carefully through the room, turning and staring into the inky green shadows formed by her night-vision.

Fingers stroked her neck.

She spun, the lasers igniting in her fingers, cutting through the bookshelves, leaving black scorch marks along the walls.

Shit, she thought, it actually got close enough to touch.

She spread her hands wide and beams of light emitted from them, cutting through the darkness. For a moment, she caught the flash of a long pale leg in the light.

Her lasers cut through the bookshelves.

She paused, hands raised, palms flat, fingers drawn together, her thumbs tucked in the palms of her hands. No sound, the data-streams moved sluggishly, sensing nothing in the air around her.

A finger ran across the back of her left ear.

Her fingers spat the hard beams of light. Nothing on her motion sensors. Nothing on her night-vision, but the vampire could just glide in and touch her.

Aryella killed her electronic surveillance.

Got to use naked eyes and ears, she thought, fuck, this is annoying. Maybe, I should go back to McCandliss and. . . . No, fuck that bitch, she’ll eat my pussy.

She resumed the light beam scan.

“Aryella, is that any way to treat a guest?”

The female voice sounded rich and velvet, echoing inside her mind against her skull. She could feel the need to respond rising up within her.

“You’re not a guest, you’re a squatter. And how the fuck do you know my name?”

Her laughter shivered down Aryella’s spine. Corner of her eye. She spun and raised her hands, but saw nothing.

“You have a website, Aryella, and you dress so beautifully, I bookmarked you a long time ago. I find your lack of modesty very refreshing.”

The voice kept repeating in Aryella’s head, buzzing inside her, filling her mind. She kept her hands high.

Eat your heart out Voltira, she thought, I’ve got a vampire webby.

“Well, it’s great to meet a fan. Going to show yourself or are you just going to keep trying to play tag in the dark?”

“Oh, not just yet, not when we’re just becoming . . . intimate.”

Aryella’s nipples hardened, prickles of heat ran through her pussy. She ran the light beams in wide sweeps across the broken bookshelves.

Intimate.

The word seeped down into her core, she bit her lip. “I’d like to get a lot more than intimate with you.”

Areylla shook her head to try and clear it, that hadn’t come out quite the way she wanted. Her breath started to pant.

“Oh, of course you will, we’re going to be so much to each other, Aryella, so very soon.”

“Yeah, soon, very soon.”

The echoes seemed to multiply inside her, running down to her pelvis, making it vibrate with need.

She shifted her hips.

A bead of sweat ran into her mouth, she licked her lips. The echoes made it hard to concentrate, they seemed to push against her thoughts, pressing her to just go with it.

Soft breasts pressed against her arm.

She gasped. Raising her elbow, spinning, she saw deep red eyes framed in a pale stern face, her lasers spat, but too late. She grit her teeth.

“When you see my face again you’ll be so happy.”

“Happy, yeah, happy.” The echoes wove through her thoughts, the words slipping in and out of her hearing, repeating.

Hands cupped her ass. The lasers briefly flared. She whined in frustration. Echoes in her mind, no room to think.

Something right behind her. She turned. Nothing there.

“What is that you are wearing?”

You’d like to wear nothing but a collar, wouldn’t you?

“Cyber bio-mesh.” She shook her head.

Yes, I’d love to wear a collar. She blinked. Did I say that or think it?

“And what does it do?”

You want to be naked and on your knees before me, don’t you?

“Highly advanced body armor attuned to my personal bio-matrix.”

Yes, I want to be naked before you on my knees.

Again, the soft breasts pressed against her, this time the hands rose around her and cupped her tits. Aryella moaned. She raised her hands, and the cupping fingers left her, leaving emptiness behind.

“Who designed it?”

You’re going to play with your hot little cunt in front of me, aren’t you?

“Louis Brooke. I ordered him to make it for me.” Word on words in her head.

Yes, I’ll show you my hot little cunt, I’ll show you just how hot it is.

Her cunt melting, she drifted her hands between her thighs, pushed her hips against them.

“And can you take it off?”

You want to crawl before me and beg to be my thrall, isn’t that right?

“Yes.”

Oh, god, yes.

Aryella peeled the web from her neck and arms letting it fall to the ground. She shuddered, feeling the vampire’s hard nipples press against her naked back. This time the hands reaching up to cup her tits traced patterns around their tips.

“You want to serve me, slut?”

The fingers pinched her nipples and her thighs spread, arching back against the vampire, breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Yes, Mistress.”

The vampire left her again and she sobbed.

“Remove the rest of the web.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Some part of her tried to tell her no. Tried to scream at her for letting herself be enthralled. But the echoes kept moving in her head, through her tits and ass and cunt, making her respond.

Making her helpless to do anything other than obey.

She peeled the web from her thighs, stripping herself completely bare below the neck. She reached up and pulled the remaining web from her cheeks, shaking her head as the fine mesh peeled from her skull through her short black hair.

She knelt and pulled her labia apart with the fingers of her right hand, stroking the middle finger of her left hand up along the line of her cunt to her clit, pressing gently against it, circling.

Her Mistress dug her nails into Aryella’s tits and scraped them across her stomach. Aryella’s eyes shut in ecstasy; she pushed another finger into her cunt. She leaned back, bowing backwards until her hair brushed against the floor.

She felt the thighs on either side of her head. Mistress lowered herself down and Aryella reveled in her taste.

The wet pussy pressed down against her lips and she pushed her tongue into it, the scent of Mistress making her light-headed.

She felt teeth scraping across her inner thigh, biting down, her blood flowing into the vampire’s mouth.

Her soul melted, her existence flushing down into that one spot where Mistress fed upon her. She floated upon clouds of bliss, so fulfilled and complete, her heart thundering in her head. She sank through the sky.

She lacked breath to sob as Mistress rose from her, lifting her up with casual ease and bringing Aryella’s face to her perfect breast.

The vampire’s dark nipple stood out hard and proud, tracing across Aryella’s lips. She suckled blissfully.

The lights came on. She crawled and begged to be her thrall.

A sharp-nailed finger passed across Mistress’s left nipple, raising blood. She drew Aryella’s head to her nipple again and Aryella drank the blood that ran across it.

Chains hung down from the ceiling of the penthouse’s state bedroom binding the thrall’s wrists while her ankles had been locked into rings embedded in the floor, spread painfully wide. A leather hammock supported her head as it tilted back, her back arching so that her stiff nipples peeked clear through the blue and silver web covering her skin. The web had been pulled back between her thighs so that the wet pink folds of her weeping cunt could be seen by all those who approached.

Her Queen sat on the thrall’s face, shifting her hips and leaning forward slightly as she enjoyed the thrall’s eager tongue against her clit.

Part II—Good Enough For Government Work

Midday, Service stairs to 55th floor, Brooke building.

Rebecca sighted up the stairs with her rifle. The red laser point hovered along the walls as she swept it up past the railings. She opened her psychic eye and tried to press aside the distortion.

Black lines and spots flickered in her vision like the reel from an old film.

She lifted herself another step and approached the turn in the stairwell before the stairs rose to the next landing. The whitewashed breezeblock wall brushed against the katana and crossbow on her back as she swung around the corner. The black spots clustered together, popping and disappearing at a frenetic rate on the far corner of her left eye.

She looked up at the under-ceiling to the stairs descending from above. The spots coalesced together in a single pulsing mass.

Rebecca tucked her head against the butt of the rifle, supporting it with her right shoulder and upper arm, her right index finger slipping over the trigger. Without removing her right hand from the rifle trigger, she raised her left hand slowly and opened the first two fingers wide, her thumb pressing down the second middle finger and little finger.

She pointed at the descending stairs.

Callaghan repeated the signal to the rest of the team and then moved silently to cover her.

She stilled her breathing and, keeping her movements slow and deliberate, moved to the far side of the turn in the stairs.

The vampire fell at her over the rails. Flash of ragged red hair. Fangs extended, screaming. The armor piercing bullets hit it in the chest and it turned in the air, thrown back over the rails.

Rebecca took the steps two at a time, turning the rifle to fire. A bullet hit her riot helmet, ricocheting. Rebecca crashed hard into the stairs and the vampire came over the rails again. Callaghan’s bullets hit it square in the chest and it screamed at him, its pale skin and flesh ripping and reforming around the wounds, it wavered on top of the rails as if in a howling gale. Sprawled on her back, Rebecca looked up and saw the naked thrall trying to aim at her from the top of the descending stairs. Rebecca’s rifle loop tangled her right arm. The vampire screamed and burst onto the landing and smashed through the blue door into the office floor. The thrall came charging down the stairs after her Mistress, firing wildly.

Callaghan shot her in the chest.

“Oh, shit! McCandliss!”

“I’m fine, cover her.”

She rose and pointed her rifle at the blue door. The spots came small and discreet in her vision.

Behind her she heard Callaghan calling for treatment to the thrall. Ingesting vampire blood made thralls surprisingly resilient. If Rebecca could kill its Mistress she could still be released from servitude. Maybe. Sometimes released thralls went out looking for another vampire to “adopt” them because they preferred it.

Rebecca pushed through the door and scanned the corridor with her rifle point.

Empty.

She moved in, but not before Callaghan moved back to cover her.

She moved left, the spots suddenly burst into her vision. She dropped the rifle and drew the silver handgun.

The silver bullet exploded in the vampire’s arm as it hurtled around the corner towards her. It shrieked as the flames ate it, but it still kept coming. It smashed into Rebecca’s chest, white flame running down its back, toppling them both to the floor. Fangs snapped at Rebecca’s throat. She tried to press it up with her right hand trapped holding the gun against her chest, but the flames dripped onto her and her riot gear caught aflame.

Agony.

The darkness that fuelled her psychic power flooded her soul.

—Die.

Pale flames ignited from Rebecca’s own skin, the air warping and bending around them, blowing the flames dripping from the vampire out and instead themselves spilling up and over the vampire’s body. It broke from her and fled, its skin peeling off.

Rebecca leaped up and ran around the corner, her handgun raised. The staggering vampire seemed to be collapsing in on itself.

Rebecca’s bullet caught the vampire through the heart. The flame disintegrated the remainder of it in an instant, leaving deep scorch marks on the floor and walls.

Afternoon, 70th floor, Penthouse entrance, Brooke Building.

Rebecca narrowed her eyes as she sighted at the thick oak doors to the penthouse. The black spot in her psychic eye pulsed slowly and steadily.

“It’s stationary.”

“We going in?” Callaghan crouched on the other side of the hall, the two of them taking cover behind the corners of the corridor leading to the oak doors.

Rebecca shook her head, “No, but if it comes through the door you leave it to me.”

Callaghan gave her a sharp look, “Fuck that.”

Rebecca smiled, “This might be one of those occasions where you let me handle things my way.”

Callaghan grunted, “Oh, you gonna get nekkid?”

“Fuck you.”

“Yes. Yes, you have.”

Rebecca snorted. The hair on the back of her neck rose. She pumped her left fist once and pointed at the door. Callaghan slipped his finger over his trigger.

Rebecca’s mouth went dry.

The doors crept open.

Hands clapped slowly and loudly from the other side of the doors. They swung wide and Frostburn leaned in the doorway, an exquisitely carved circular table standing in the lobby behind her, and the entrance to a huge reading room visible through a further doorway behind it.

“Brava, Ms. McCandliss! You finally made it to the top!” She took a drag on her cigarette. “And you too, Detective Sergeant Callaghan,” Frostburn stood up straight and stalked towards him.

“It’s been a while since we’ve had a man like you in here. Can I offer you a drink?”

Her head dipped and she stared up at him through her black fringe. Smiling.

Callaghan glanced sideways at Rebecca, “No, not on duty, thanks, Frostburn.”

Frostburn pursed her lips, shrugged, and raised an eyebrow at McCandliss. She turned on her heel and strode back through the oak doors.

Rebecca looked at Callaghan, “Stay put.”

She followed Frostburn into the penthouse. The doors swung shut automatically behind them.

“Here she is,” Frostburn gestured into the middle of the room. Rebecca licked her lips. The way the blue and silver web clung to Frostburn’s ass looked delicious. Something seemed . . . wrong, but as soon as she experienced the sensation it seemed to leave her.

The vampire sat like a statue on a large polished leather armchair. Her hair lay in heavy, shockingly white tresses across her shoulders. Her deep red eyes stared sightlessly towards the ceiling, her hands folded in her lap. She wore a tightly-laced black and white bodice on top of the skeleton of a ball gown that let Rebecca and Frostburn see her long white legs. Her thighs crossed demurely above her shiny high-heeled knee boots.

Rebecca could see a dark beauty spot on the inside of the vampire’s left breast. She experienced a sudden and unaccountable desire to lick it.

Her weird green eyes flicked around the spacious reading room. The high bookshelves around the walls had been scorched through by long black scars. A spiral wooden staircase ascended up towards the roof of the penthouse in one corner.

Something’s wrong, she thought, but . . . what?

Rebecca whirled on Frostburn, “How?”

Frostburn grinned and reached up to the top of her blue and silver web, peeling back the web from her neck. The vampire bite looked raw and livid.

“She couldn’t resist a bite.”

Rebecca touched it. A warm, slick feeling melted through her. She’d forgotten just how cute and sexy Frostburn could be.

What? That’s not . . .

“One bite enough?,” asked Rebecca.

Frostburn shook her head, Frostburn showed her another livid bite on her wrist.

“Pretty touch and go. I got here and started firing lasers everywhere, couldn’t hit her,” she pointed at the scorch marks, “bit my lip and let the blood out. Vampire couldn’t resist, but it took a bit of time to get her near enough for me to inject her with nanites. And a little time for her to realize it.”

She shook her wrist and laughed dryly, “If she moves they’ll blow her head to bits.”

Rebecca’s eyes widened, “Pretty fucking ballsy.”

She shrugged off her rifle onto a leather couch.

Frostburn’s lip had a big scab on it. She placed her hands on the smaller woman’s hips and kissed it gently.

Frostburn looked into her eyes and kissed back. They clutched at each other, stumbling and giggling, until they fell over onto the floor. They rolled over with Frostburn on top, straddling Rebecca.

She grabbing the hem of her blue and silver web with both hands and pulled it up slowly. Rebecca flushed hot at the sight of Frostburn’s black lacey bra, she could see the shadow of her nipples through the lace.

“You normally wear that to fight vampires?” Rebecca’s voice husked.

“No, sometimes I don’t wear anything at all.”

“Oh, I’ll bet,” She could feel a coppery taste in her mouth. “What if it, uh, tries to escape while we . . . ”

“Oh, pish,” Frostburn waved a hand at her, “the vampire is under control—thanks to Louis Brooke, Ms. McCandliss, I’m pleased to say that the private sector still knows how to innovate—the nanites are programmed to go off if she moves from that chair.”

Something’s wrong, thought Rebecca. She thought she could hear music playing, just flirting at the edge of her hearing.

Frostburn pulled her lacey bra cups down and Rebecca lost her thought.

Frostburn’s thumb ran across Rebecca’s lips. She opened her mouth and sucked on it, staring into Frostburn’s eyes.

“Let me see your big soft tits, Ms. McCandliss,” She lifted her legs off Rebecca and waited. Rebecca flushed with heat and stripped.

Frostburn’s eyes flicked down to Rebecca’s nipples, “Let me see you tug on them.”

She pushed Rebecca down onto a plush leather couch, straddling her thighs.

Thought fled Rebecca’s mind as she reached her fingers to the little silver rings in her thick pink nipples. She arched herself back against the leather and pulled on the rings, sending little delicious shivers of pain down into her cunt. Her ass ground down into the slick leather.

Her mouth hung open as she stared at Frostburn’s little brown nipples, she licked her lips wanting to suckle. Frostburn leaned in to tease Rebecca with her tits, pulling her head back each time her lips closed around them.

The music she could almost hear seemed to be playing in a loop in her head. Something’s . . .

Frostburn’s hand on her thigh sent white heat through her pussy. She spread her thighs.

“Wider,” Frostburn stood to let her move.

Rebecca opened herself up, pulling up her knees. Frostburn slipped onto the floor between her legs, her fingers stroking along Rebecca’s shapely thigh and tracing the entrance to her cunt.

Rebecca’s mouth opened, she moaned her need. Frostburn’s fingers kept stroking around her pretty pink labia, coming maddeningly near her clit, but never quite reaching it.

“Let me hear you say it, Rebecca.”

“Oh, god, please, please fuck me.”

She heard cruel laughter and looked up. The vampire watched her, its left hand playing with its own wet pussy, its legs pulled apart to let it show.

For a moment, Rebecca saw herself from outside her own skin, her thighs spread and her knees up on the couch, begging to be fucked. Her katana and crossbow discarded on a pine table in front of it. Her clothes on the floor where she stripped for Frostburn.

The humiliation burned through her. She moaned like a bitch in heat, reveling in it.

“Fuck me,” she shut her eyes and let her head fall back against the back of the leather couch, “please, fuck me.”

She could feel the vampire’s eyes eating her up and her hips jerked in an obscene gesture of need.

—Subliminals. They’re using subliminals.

The thought came up out of her darkness, the well-spring of her psychic powers. It didn’t matter though, nothing seemed to matter except the hot hunger eating her will.

Frostburn pressed her finger lightly against Rebecca’s clit. Her mind emptied, caught in that one pressing touch. She felt Frostburn’s lips brush her cunt. No, oh, fuck.

The slow tongue blew aside her mind and made her dissolve. The fingers dipping made her juices squirt, splashing on the leather and carpet. She lost control of her limbs as she came and came.

The vampire’s laughter added hot spice.

Frostburn hauled her to her feet, pulled her around and bent her over the arm of the couch. She cried out. Her ass stung.

“You like this, don’t you, slut?” Frostburn ran her tongue across her lips. “I know I do.”

Rebecca cried out in time to Frostburn’s rhythm, her ass shivering with each sharp report upon it.

“But you deserve this spanking, don’t you?” Frostburn’s hoarse voice filled with dark lust and aggression.

Rebecca’s body jerking under her hand, the redhead’s knees gave way and Rebecca collapsed face forward, ass in the air over the arm of the couch.

“Who’s spanking you, slut?” Rebecca squirmed and juiced against the leather as Frostburn turned her ass red. She yanked Rebecca’s red hair braid back, making her gasp.

Rebecca saw a vision of herself between the vampire’s thighs. The vampire had pulled the skeletal ball gown back to let her crawl to lick her dark cunt. One long pale leg crooked to rest on Rebecca’s ass. Her shockingly white tresses shook with laughter as she ran her left hand in the long red hair.

The Vampire Queen turned her deep red eyes on Rebecca and licked her pink tongue across her red lips.

She can see it too, thought Rebecca. Mistress.

—No.

The darkness boiled and bubbled up through the corridors of Rebecca’s mind.

Her elbow came back hard and sharp, connecting with Frostburn’s nose. Rebecca could feel the bone snapping. Frostburn collapsed on the floor, blood streaming.

Pale flames licked around the redhead, the air warping and bending around her skin. Blood-red thigh boots formed on her legs, arrays of buckles running up the sides. A black leather corset tied with blood-red laces formed around her chest.

The Vampire Queen clapped in surprise. “How wonderful! Subdue her thrall.”

Frostburn leaped to her feet to face Rebecca, raising her palms, lasers igniting from her fingertips to cross either side of Rebecca’s neck.

A muffled shot sounded followed by an immediate crash of the oak doors to the penthouse. Everybody turned their heads to the doorway from the entrance.

Callaghan burst through it pointing a big silver handgun at the Vampire Queen.

“SIU!”

Callaghan opened up, the gun barrel flashing bright.

The Queen whirled in the seat first left, then right, the leather upholstery exploding around her. She pressed her hands on the chair and flipped backwards tumbling gracefully through the air to land on her feet at the back of the reading room.

A laser sliced the silver handgun in two. Callaghan cried as Frostburn slammed into his mid-drift, sending the pair of them crashing into a book shelf. It collapsed, wood splintering and books tumbling to the floor.

Frostburn rose and broke Callaghan’s left arm. He screamed. The thrall crossed palms on either side of Callaghan’s neck and ignited her lasers, poised to slice.

—Frostburn.

Rebecca held her katana out, point first towards the thrall, a blue flame guttering along its edge. “You told me you’ve had some success against psychics, Ms. Snowe. Care to try?”

Rebecca saw the surface of Frostburn’s mind flood with lurid images of sex and violence pulled from the thrall’s subconscious. Beneath the psychic defenses created by the imagery, Aryella Snowe’s real intent lurked.

The bright threads of Frostburn’s suit strobed, bouncing on the balls of her feet, she lifted off the ground, whirling balletically through the air. Her foot connected with Rebecca’s neck, shattering it.

Aryella shuddered and quivered on the carpet as the moment replayed again and again in her mind. It grew hotter and hotter, filling it, finally blotting out all else.

Just as Rebecca intended it too. She watched Frostburn convulse ecstatically amongst the broken books and pieces of wood, lost in the world created by the violent looping image placed in her skull by the redhead.

—Psychic defenses only work if they distract the psychic, Ms. Snowe, not you too.

Callaghan struggled to his feet amid the wreckage, gritting his teeth against the agony in his arm.

“Callaghan, get out. That’s an order.”

Callaghan shuddered in pain and limped out of the room.

“How noble of you,” The Vampire Queen glided forward, releasing the skeletal skirt and beginning to untie her bodice. Rebecca swallowed.

The music still whispered in her ears, tip-toeing fingers down her spine. She let it slide past her thoughts like a stream of wisps in the wind. Subliminals relied on the unawareness of the listener. And so did vampires, she treated the echoing sensations created inside her head by The Vampire Queen just the same.

Rebecca adopted a fighting stance. “You could kill him before he hit the ground.”

“Yes, and I probably would too. I grow sentimental with age,” The bodice parted and dropped to the floor. Rebecca sucked in her breath.

The vampire paused just out of reach of Rebecca’s blade, naked except for her high-heeled shiny black boots, “What is your name?”

“Rebecca McCandliss of Infinity City PD Special Investigations Unit.”

The vampire opened her palms out towards Rebecca, one leg slightly raised in front of the other. Rebecca drank her in. Its red eyes ran across her body, “No. Your real name.”

—I am The Harbinger.

“I am Livilla. Do you want me?”

—Yes.

The Vampire Queen’s right hand trailed down over her taut stomach to her mound, she spread her legs and tilted her pelvis. Her fingers pulled the hood of her clit back and the little bud stood up, glistening.

“You and I could be such magnificent lovers. Serve me and we shall be.” Rebecca’s throat went dry.

Rebecca stared at the beautiful pussy. Her nostrils flared as she drank in the smell of sex. It made her feel light, like she might rise from the floor at any moment and drift through the ceiling into the wet clouds above. The pussy shifted back and forth as Livilla rotated her hips.

Rebecca clenched her jaw and looked up at Livilla’s red eyes.

“You’re an old one, Livilla, what’s the game here?”

She turned as she watched the vampire stalk around the edges of the reading room.

“No game. Only pleasure. When you get as old as I am you’ll understand it takes a lot to feel young again.”

Livilla blurred white and her fingers stroked across Rebecca’s hair braid. Rebecca cut with the katana, but Livilla already sat on the bottom steps of the spiral staircase.

“You sacrificed vampires today. You attacked a major corporate headquarters in the middle of a city. You enthralled Frostburn. You tried to mind control a psychic using subliminals.”

Livilla blurred again. This time she danced away from the edge of the katana and leaned back against a bookcase, her fangs showed.

“Most impressive! This whole reading room is a subliminal chamber designed by my thrall over there. She uses them to control others and she’s really very good at it. In fact, I think it’s the one thing you could say she has a genius for.”

Rebecca’s lips curled, “You pretended to be captured . . . you wanted to be captured—wanted the pretense of it. An SIU psychic enthralled by mind control, not blood. Blood tests wouldn’t show it. Aryella Snowe vouching for you and she never get’s tested, so your thrall is inside a major government contractor now.”

Rebecca’s eyes narrowed, “And you, you’re in a cell on the inside, not under control at all, turning your prison into your palace, with a thrall in the middle of SIU rotting out the whole damn unit from the inside.”

Livilla’s laughter made her alabaster breasts shiver delightfully. I really do want her, thought Rebecca.

Livilla’s fingers circled her left nipple and then pulled it forward, distending it, she let it go and then repeated the motion. The nipple rising and falling under her cruel fingers, rising and falling, rising and falling.

Rebecca felt her pussy get wet, her own nipples stiffening in response. She tore her eyes up and looked into the red eyes of the vampire.

Livilla’s smile radiated lust.

“So now what, Harbinger? Shall we be lovers? Or shall you try to catch me?” Her voice husked, “Perhaps we can do both.”

“I have a better idea,” Rebecca traced a finger across the top of her left breast. “Let’s be lovers, Livilla, but let’s play a game to see who get’s to be in control.”

A thin line of pale flame flickered and died across the top of her breast.

Then the blood started to flow.

Livilla’s lips curled back and she hissed. Her eyes burning.

The blood ran down over Rebecca’s porcelain skin, she pulled the left cup of her corset down and rivulets ran around her hard nipple.

“Our blood smells intoxicating to you, doesn’t it, Livilla? What’s a psychic’s blood smell like? It must be soooo good, oh, but soooo dangerous, you might be the one enthralled by it, just the way your blood can enthrall us.”

Rebecca smiled and winked. “Or maybe you’re old enough to drink. Is it worth the risk to you, Livilla? Do you want to feel young again?”

Rebecca whispered, “Do you want me?”

“Yes,” Livilla swayed forward and then blurred.

Her fangs punched through the skin of Rebecca’s breast. Drinking deep. They fell back on the floor, writhing, cunt to cunt. Rebecca arched, feeling her existence funnel down into the point where Livilla fed. She could feel herself taking flight.

—Livilla.

The vampire stopped. Rebecca ran her left hand down Livilla’s back, slipped a finger between her ass cheeks. I want you so bad. She still gripped the katana with her right hand.

—Kneel.

Livilla rose and knelt. Her red eyes intense upon Rebecca.

Rebecca stood over her.

—Pull back your hair. Bend your neck forward. I promise this will be swift.

Livilla turned her head slightly as she obeyed. Her red eyes melted, “Worth the risk.”

Rebecca nodded.

The blade cut with one stroke.

“McCandliss!” Callaghan staggered at the doorway.

“I thought I told you to stay put.”

Callaghan took in the sight of Rebecca’s naked ass and grinned, “Better get you some clothes, McCandliss.”