The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

His eyes stare towards the eastward window. The shafts of rising sunlight extend out and away from the horizon. The purple/black of nightfall turned pale gray as the sun edges towards the horizon. The pale gray of an early morning twilight slowly erased by the morning sun.

The pair stay quietly, staring, their minds lost in the moment, that beautiful moment as night becomes day. Together they take in a deep breath and exhale.

“Why did it happen?” a feminine voice calls.

He turns his eyes back from the window, his head shifts to the covers in his arms, as if suddenly remembering what he was in the midst of doing. His attention turns back to the woman laying in the couch before him, her eyes open and curious.

He yawns. “Why did what happen?” he asks.

“The baseball bat, running your dad out of the house, all that.”

The yawn disappears from his face. His eyes shift back towards the window. For several seconds he continues to watch as the sun slowly rises. But it’s obvious to the woman that it’s not where his attention is. His head shifts for a moment towards one of the bedroom doors, the one where his mother now slept with another. A pained expression crosses his face.

She meets his eyes as they turn back towards her. “Is it too much for you to talk about?”

A wan smile comes to his lips and quickly disappears, “Yeah…maybe some other time. Sorry.”

She nods, biting her lower lip. A yawn escapes her mouth as he hands her the covers in his arms. “It’s okay. I just thought I’d ask…thanks for the covers, it’s kind of cold tonight.”

Sharon wakes up with a start. Her body jerks upward, but something holds her arms down to the ground. Pain shoots through her. She grimaces. And yet somehow all she can think about is his eyes. The night before, laying on an open couch and staring up into those eyes. Deep brown, almost black, thoughtful, troubled and penetrating, yet somehow soft. Daniel…

Slowly her head begins to hurt. And she remembers. She remembers his words to her. His warnings about the water creatures, and the slaves that they could make, about the mind numbing chemical and what it can do to someone. She remembers the battle at her house and her friends staring down at her with disgusted eyes. No not her friends, not anymore, it wasn’t them. It wasn’t them.

They took her. She gave up to them. All for the sake of her family.

Her eyes open, looking at the radiator in front of her, looking at her wrists bound up just underneath it. Looking over her naked body splayed out on a cold, concrete floor. Was she one of them yet? No she couldn’t be. Not if she was tied up. Not if she was wondering. Not if her thoughts burned in the way that they did against her unknown assailant. Some boy named Andrew. Someone she didn’t even know.

Why the hell did he want her so bad? He’d watched her play soccer for a long time, that was what her once friends had told her. He was an admirer from afar, a fucked up admirer from afar.

She jerks the rope tied around the bottom portion of the radiator, but the bindings hold.

She sighs.

Again her eyes look down at her naked form, her long tan legs and her smallish perky breasts, the firm, toned and athletic body that held them all together. This is what he wanted she thinks This is all that he wanted.

She slides her legs around and places her feet against the metal radiator. Against it she pushes off. She grunts as her crouched legs strain, as her arms pull on the bindings around her wrists. She can feel them burning for the many long seconds she puts the effort in. Her shoulders ache as her legs push. Her mind focuses on any hope of freedom.

But with a gasp she releases. The rope has held, the knots unforgiving.

Is this how it’s going to end she wonders is he just going to come in and take me like this? What else can she do?

She can feel the tears welling up in her eyes as she stares at the small room around her, hoping for something. Nothing to help her, not even a window by which to draw someone’s attention, just a lone washer and drier and an overhead florescent light.

She lets the tears fall, as her heart beats heavy in her chest. What can she do? How long does she have? What is it going to be like to wake up and find herself completely different? No…no… that’s not going to happen. Somehow…she has time.

As she breaths deeply, laying on the cold concrete her mind slowly remembers those eyes, dark brown, almost black, troubled and penetrating, yet somehow soft. Will he come? Did she really leave him enough of a trail to follow? She had to. He has to come. He will come for her.

Her wet tears chill on the cool floor. “Por Dios,” she whispers to the area above, “Let him reach me in time. Daniel…please…”

Slowly her tears subside. Her breath slows as she stares parallel with the ground. Her face tightens as her heart relaxes. She shifts her body again off of the floor, her bowed head again stares at the radiator. “No,” she whispers to herself, “I can hope for you, but I can’t count on it. It’s not your fault. You’re doing everything that you can. I know. I-“ Her voice catches as she quickly pushes the thought away. Her mind focuses again on the radiator in front of her. “I can’t go quietly into the night.”

Again she presses her feet up against its cold surface, and pushes.

He remembers the darkness, the sun not quite ready to rise, the soft lights of his apartment lamps quieting the room and the world around him.

She sat across from him on the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a warm cup of coffee. Her eyes were alive, her back slumped across the back of her chair, studying him.

He sat thoughtfully, his eyes glanced up to meet her, “Thanks for all of this.”

“What do you mean?” she said.

His brow furrowed momentarily, thinking, his eyes stared into the mug of coffee in front of him. “Just for listening. Most people when you talk with them want to put in their own two cents. It’s just rare to have someone who actually listens.”

She smiled warmly then, “Well…sometimes that’s what a person needs. Isn’t it?”

“Yeah…I just feel like I’ve been unfair. I’ve been talking about myself all night, and…I haven’t even given you the chance to talk about yourself.”

She sat up then, that smile of hers demured, but didn’t quite leave as she rested her head in the hands in front of her. “It’s not important. It’s not like the conversation has gone anywhere I didn’t want it to.”

He shook his head, “Yeah it is. Because the question is why you’re here? Why have you stayed here? I just feel like I don’t know this person sitting across from me.”

“And that matters?”

“Shouldn’t it?”

She fell back into her chair again, her hand reaching for her mug and taking another sip from it. Her smile faded, her eyes thoughtful. “Well, where should I start?”

“How about with whatever comes to your mind?”

She chuckled then, “That’s an awful lot.”

“Sharon…” spoken in an exhale, almost silent. His eyes staring far away. “Don’t let him. Don’t you dare fucking make it easy for him. I’m coming.”

It’s night now. The overhead street lamps of the highway fade by as his car beats the pavement forward. Clouds overhead were gathering. This he hardly notices, his eyes on the road. The bright yellow dashes of the lane markings pass under him in a blur of gold. The needle on the speedometer edges towards 80 as the world around him zips by.

“Hey, hey, hey, you might want to keep the speed down,” Azuma calls out from beside him, “I think that one of the last things that you want is for us to be stopped by the police.”

He turns his head towards her, his head nodding as his foot lifts up slightly off of the gas pedal. The needle slowly edges down to 60. But his eyes stay forward, looking out towards whatever destination the address will lead them to. Andrew Smythe, 812 N. Whimple ave. Harris Park, he thinks to himself Oh God make this right. His hands grip the steering wheel tightly.

< It wonders, you are afraid?> The thought comes out to him, just barely separate from him.

Yes.

<But you’re not in danger.>

But Sharon is

<And that is important?>

Yes.

< It wonders why?>

He pauses for a moment in thought, as his eyes stray back to the seats behind him, Catherine, and Nikki sitting in the back seat staring out the side windows. Pensive looks rest on their faces as the sickly orange shafts of light color them. His head turns beside him, to his other slave, Azuma, eyes staring forward, watching the road.

I did this. I made them who they are. And I can’t let someone else become like them.

<It is confused, they will do whatever you wish. That doesn’t make you happy?>

No, because it isn’t really who they are.

<And that matter?>

Yes… I’d rather have earned their hate, than stolen their adoration.

For the moment his mind his silent. His eyes gaze forward in front of him, unsure the conclusion the creature within him is drawing. It seems that for the moment its curiosity is satiated.

“Hey, there’s our exit, ½ mile ahead,” Azuma calls to him.

“I see it,” the car veers right working its way off of the highway, his eyes drift back again to the seat behind him, the metallic gleam of the metal bat shines red in the waxing moonlight.

“We’re coming Sharon,” he whispers under his breath, his eyes flaring forward, “We’re coming, please be okay. Please still be yourself.”

He sits in the front seat of his tan Corolla, the engine silent, his eyes staring uneasily at the house just down the street.

Later in the evening you can expect a cold front coming in bringing with it some late spring time showers the voice on the radio blared.

His hand fumbles for the knob, turning it off. He rests his head on the rest behind him. He sighs staring at the ceiling above him.

Why the hell was he there? What the hell did he think he could do? Yeah, what could he do? Maybe he should just go home and try to forget about everything. Maybe leaving Andrew out there wouldn’t- No, he couldn’t leave it alone, that wasn’t in him. But that being thought, so what? No police officer in his right mind would believe them.

He’d seen the car pull up to his house very early that morning. With his binoculars he’d seen five people step out. The first one had been Karen, he’d recognized her by her curly red hair, but everything else looked different about her. He’d cringed at the sight of her. Gone were her thick rimmed glasses and white lab coat. Gone was that demurely awkward stance she always seemed to carry about her. The person that stepped first out of that car was dressed in overdone make up, and an insanely short miniskirt. The person that had stepped out of that car had stepped out a stranger to him.

The others he couldn’t have even guessed at, faces and names that he hadn’t known at any time. A small middle eastern girl, naked from top to bottom seemed to fawn over the one person being carried by two other girls.

Even in the slight light of the not yet early morning he could tell that the person being carried was in a sorry state.

“Andrew…”

He should have done something then. It was him the two carried between them. He knew it. The guy was a bloody mess, but he knew it was him. Something had happened. He was hurt, he had a better chance then of doing something.

But what? But What? But What! He couldn’t fight them, too many. And there was nobody he could turn to. All he could do…was watch.

Christ, the car had left later that day, two of the women in it, returning a scant few hours later. They bore another up between them a girl who walked as if she was in a daze.

“Another,” he whispered then, “Oh, God, he’s going to take another.” His eyes stared hard from behind those black rimmed spy glasses. His hand grasped tightly the tazer in his hand.

And again he did nothing.

“Christ, Alexander, what is wrong with you!” He yells these words at no one, but himself. His eyes drift downward to the foot pedals. Even as he stared down at his feet on the driver side of the car he knew the answer. He was afraid. He was so afraid. There was absolutely nothing that he could do. And at the same time he just couldn’t do nothing.

Day had turned to night and still he had done nothing.

His eyes stare distraught at his own feet before him. His typical wolfish grin fades to emptiness. How much more of this could he take?

And then another stranger’s car had pulled out in front and the unfolding events took an unexpected turn.

The headlights shined brightly on the college town side street. Two lone lamps illuminated an otherwise pitch dark row of houses. Daniel’s eye scanned the various numbers, looking for the address.

“Well,” he began, “we’re on Whimple, does anyone see the house?”

“Daniel…,” Nikki began from behind him, “do you have a plan? I know you didn’t make me to think, but…what if this is the wrong guy?”

Than Sharon is fucked, and nothing matters was the first thought that came to him. But what came out was,“Nikki…I didn’t make you anything. And yes, I do have a plan.”

“Over there,” Azuma said from beside him, her arm pointing at house not far down the street.

“Okay,” Daniel said, pushing the car slowly forward, passing a tan Toyota Corolla. His eyes paused for a moment, caught by the eyes of the big bearded man sitting in the front seat, his eyes staring back at him.

Who is-?

“Daniel!”

He shook the unformed thought from his head, his mind slipping back to the task at hand. He looks towards the house that Azuma points at 812 N. Whimple. The lights are on.

He pulls the car over to the curb and shifts it into park, turning the engine off.

Nikki again looks towards him as Daniel opens the door to his car, “So what is the plan Daniel?”

Daniel pauses, the car door still open, he looks between Nikki and Azuma. “Well we need to find out if this is the right house right? And at the same time we can’t let them use Sharon as a hostage if it is right?”

The two nodded, sharing glances with each other.

“Well,” Daniel continued, “It may be kind of late, but I don’t think that two women canvasers will awaken too much suspicion. Me and Catherine will hide behind the car, and I’ll wait to see who answers it. If the face is familiar, than well, we have the right place.”

“And then?”

“One thing at a time. You two better get up there.”

Professor Alexander Malarkey had stared startled as the stranger’s car had passed by him, the driver turning his eyes and catching his own. He’d seen the three other women riding with him, his mind already drawing the conclusion in his head.

Is that another one? Could he…Oh God no!

The thoughts were staggering. The numbers were staggering. As the car pulled to a stop not far in front of him he could feel himself sliding down in his seat, hoping somehow that the eyes that caught his somehow didn’t see.

So many- is he with him?- How many more of those water parasites are there?

He felt his hand instinctively reaching for the ignition of his car. But a motion in front had stopped him. The man, no…no a boy, but the way he carried himself, he was hiding behind the car he had parked. Two of the other women were walking up to the house. What was going on?

He froze in horror. The boy’s eyes were looking his way. He dropped his large body behind the dash.

Daniel’s eyes stood for a moment looking at the car to his left. The man resting behind it, now hidden behind the dashboard. Who was he trying to kid? Like he couldn’t have seen him? But why was he there?

His mind passed with fancy on the thought of one man’s stakeout. But that thought was cast away from him just as quickly as his eyes turned towards the house.

The front door was open, the face talking with Azuma familiar.

Tall, blonde and blue eyed talked with poorly disguised disgust as the door quickly closed. She one of the two whom had fought him in the bedroom. She was one of the two who stopped him from saving Lydia.

His body burned like fire. His heart began to race even before his grip tightened around the red metal shaft of the baseball bat.

It was time.

He stood up slowly. His eyes caught onto the house in front of him.

“Daniel?” the voice beside him.

“Lets go.”

His body felt electric. The bat hefted in one hand. His eyes staring forward. It was time.

Everything seemed to be going slowly now. His mind raced. Everything seemed to exist for him at once. His forward step crunched on the pavement in front of him. His mother rose with uncertain eyes her mouth questioning. His ears not hearing. The light white brick’s window shined. While still even in the distance the sound of traffic echoed away. His eyes turned upwards towards the street lamp above him and he swore he could see the slow beating wings of a moth beating its body against the glass pane. Azuma and Nikki arched their heads towards him, moving towards him.

He watched slowly as the question disappeared from their face with one glance at his.

It was time.

“Lydia…Sharon…”

His eyes stared agape as the young man rose from behind the car in front of him. He faced forward, his attention never leaving the house in front of him. He walked almost as if he was in daze, a different one from that which he’d seen earlier that day, that girl.

Alexander’s eyes fell to the brilliant surface of the bat in the stranger’s hand, and then to the seat beside him. His cellphone sat there.

His eyes looked up a moment at the young man. He was almost gone now. Him and the group he was with were moving into the back yard of the house, out of sight, out of knowing what they could be doing.

Whatever it was though. It was obvious this stranger wasn’t with him. And it was obvious he wasn’t there to make peace. His thoughts raced.

What else could he do?

His eyes again turned towards the cellphone.

He said to everyone and no one, “I don’t care if I have to make it up. Someone has to come.”

That bastard. That motherfucker. How was he able to do this to me? But even as he thought those words he knew the answer. He was weak. His father had always told him that. No-no it wasn’t true. This-this thing inside of him had made him strong. He could do things. He could be somebody. He would be somebody. He would rule.

But that thought lingered, against a person with the same powers as him he had lost. That…that boy… he’d beaten him. He’d almost killed him.

How strong could he think he was? No. No!

He jerked his body slightly, and the light pain passed through it. He still hurts. He still wasn’t healed yet.

“Fuck!” he yells.

This new girl of his cradled her naked body against his, her brown flesh lingering tightly against his pale body. Her breasts were small, her frame lithe, and yet it had beauty all to its own. Her eyes stared at his, “Are you okay?”

He turns away from her, but she pursues. She lays her small arms delicately around his frame.

At first he grimaced, but her skin against his felt like electrifying. He feels a shiver run through his body as she plants small kisses upon his back shoulder.

“He caught you by surprise master, that is all. I know Daniel master, he can be an animal. But I’m sure you are stronger than him” she coos quietly.

He started. Had she read his mind? How? Maybe anything was possible with this water parasite inside of him. His head turned towards hers. Her deep brown eyes stared up at him from the couch.

“How do you know?”, he says as he turns towards her.

The adulation not once left her eyes, “Because I know there is no other person greater than you.”

He feels caught by her eyes a moment, deep and dark, and warm, shining, almost like jewels. The way that they stare at him, not like the others do. Not just with that lust, that urge for him to fuck them, not just with that deep submission.

Maybe she’s different. Maybe she isn’t like the rest.

His hand moves slowly, with effort, the pain is less if he moves slowly. His mind tries delicately along the side of her face, but the muscles are not able. His hand rests heavily against her, but she supports it.

A smile comes to her face. Her eyes close.

The breath catches in his throat. His chest flutters.

She’s so beautiful. She’s so kind. The concern she has for him…for his pain. She’s so beautiful.

His hand begins to shake. The open palm along her face pulls backward.

But it isn’t real. She isn’t real. Women aren’t really like this. They have to be made this way. They’re bitches…they’re all bitches…

He feels his eyes well up even as he pushes her away. Tears fall fresh from his eyes as he collapses off of the couch and onto the floor.

He tries forcing the tears back, but they won’t stop. The water flows freely from his eyes shining his face and darkening the floor. His breath comes in gasps while his thoughts fly away. Why can’t women be this way? Why can’t they? No! You can’t want that. They don’t understand, they just don’t understand what it is like. They’re aren’t worth these feelings. They’re bitches…they’re all bitches…

“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” he tells himself as his body shakes on the floor, “Stop your crying, only weak people cry, and you’re not weak. You’re not! You’re not…”

“Master?” the hand comes delicately out again to him, but he slaps it away.

“Get away from me!” he screams.

She steps back, a pained expression crosses her face, “But I want to help you.”

“No you don’t, none of you do, you just want to control us men through whatever passive aggressive means you know how!”

She stood there, naked, her eyes stared at him, the creature inside of her unsure of how to proceed with the actions of its host, unsure what to make her think, unsure what to make her feel. The only expression that registered on her face was shock.

She just stared emotionless as Andrew slowly worked his way up from the ground, leaning heavy on the couch’s edge to anchor himself. All the while his face pulled tight, his body shaking.

And as he stood and turned towards her his eyes burned with a dark inner fire, drifting down first before coming back up to face her.

They were just three words, but ultimately words that would make all of the difference.

“Bring me Sharon.”

“So where’s the safest place to put someone if you don’t want them to draw attention to anyone outside?”

“Where?”

“The basement.”

And that was that. That was the way it was going to go. Down to the basement. Down to Sharon. They had to free her first. If Andrew still had Sharon he could use her against him.

And if she wasn’t there?

Things became complicated.

These thoughts raced through his head as his feet tread silently against the new cut grass towards the back door. He hoped above any belief that he could have that they didn’t expect him to be coming. That was key. If they were ready for him he knew things became a lot harder.

And damn if he didn’t want to think about that.

The four of them hung close to the wall, not wanting to risk a chance that one of them might look out and see them. Now was not the time to be seen. That time would come later.

Again his grip tightened around the shaft of his baseball bat.

The lightning came before the thunder. It always does. The thunder comes before the rain.

His eyes turned briefly towards the sky, even as far from the city as they were the city lights still bled into the sky. The clouds were gray. The rest was quiet, like nature itself was waiting for the storm.

The back yard lay open before him, two doors leading into the back of the house. The first lead up into the house proper, the second down.

Down we will go his mind tells him, the plan running through his head Test the door, if it’s locked wait for the sound of thunder, and knock out the glass, hope it’s masked just enough for no one to notice.

The four crept tightly against the wall, working slowly towards the back door. The window just above the basement door was illuminated, the sound of activity heard from the kitchen above. Three people were talking excitedly, but he couldn’t quite make out what was being said.

His eyes drifted upward towards above, but his body never turned from the basement door. He took the quilt offered by Catherine, placing it over the window.

Then he crossed his fingers and waited for the lightning.

And in a moment it came, rippling power illuminating the back yard bright like the sun for an instant. Bright hues of green and blue and white burned ecstatic, before receding back to shadow.

And in the shadow came the first sounds of thunder. Like a ripple first, slowly building up to loud rumble, close.

His fist came in hard against the glass, shattering it in an instant. A brief moment more and the rear door was open.

The room before them lay in darkness, but the four of them entered regardless. They were past the point of turning back. Not like that thought had entered any of their minds in the first place. Things were going to change, for better or worse.

Inside two of Andrew’s slaves, Karen and Liz, were heading down the stairs to bring Sharon to their master.

A young man named Daniel was shuffling through the darkness of a stranger’s basement on his eighteenth birthday, his eyes searching, his mind set on his goal.

A college professor by the name of Alexander Malarkey sat in the driver’s seat of his tan corolla, his eyes riveted to his binoculars, staring at a white brick house for something that he couldn’t quite describe.

In the distance a sleepy cop was driving his squad car to 812 N. Whimple, the main switch board having received an anonymous call about a domestic disturbance going on there.

An investigator in the department office had gotten a call about a kidnapping barely an hour before. His jacket was on, his feet out the door, gun in the holster.

All eyes slow spied the sky, hearing the sounds of thunder, and waiting for the rain.