The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Teacher’s Pet

SYNOPSIS: A young wizard learns many lessons.

This was written for a friend on her birthday. She wasn’t horribly scarred by it yet, so I thought I would share it here, along with more best wishes for Cirith.


A cloud of smoke billowed out of a cave deep in the Welsh countryside. Inside, a young boy, barely out of puberty, tamped down the flames licking at the edge of his scroll and the cuff of his shirt. Then he put his head down on his worktable, almost sobbing: “I’m never going to become a wizard at this rate! I couldn’t even be a sorcerer’s apprentice!”

As the frustrated youth continued sobbing and cleaning up, a somewhat older woman, seeming to be in her early thirties, stepped into the cave. Her short, low cut, black dress and her bright red duster coat-which came down to about mid-calf, somewhat longer than the dress that so nicely flattered her curves and legs-were completely inappropriate for the late tenth century, and her spike-heeled black CFM sandals were completely inappropriate for walking in undeveloped Welsh wilderness, but she seemed unconcerned. She was carrying the unfortunate crime against nature, a sort of furry frog, which the sandy-haired man-child had created. And she was smiling, her green-brown eyes sparkling from behind her glasses, just beneath her short brown coif with reddish highlights.

“Made yourself a little mess, I see,” she smirked.

“Woman,” the boy barked, trying to make up with bravado what he lacked in conviction or control, “how dare you enter my lair uninvited! And dressed in that . . . that demonic outfit! Even a harlot would not dare attire herself thus! Explain yourself!”

“The name is Eva, thanks. And, as someone not bound to your sense of time, I refuse to be bound by your ridiculous social stigmas or dress codes. I dress as pleases me, and care not what anyone here thinks, certainly not inept, undisciplined, mage wanna-bes with delusions of competence.

“Now, child,” she waved her hand and the air in the cave cleared, leaving the space dry, well-lit, and at a pleasant ambient temperature, “if you would like to have some slim hope of success in your chosen profession, some small chance to display the gifts I see within you, speak to me with respect, and I might be persuaded to give you some instruction. Otherwise, I had best leave you to incinerate yourself.”

As she placed the misbegotten creature onto the workbench, it morphed into a small bunny. There was not a word, not a wave, not a twitch of her nose. The rabbit simply became. Then, as Eva turned and walked out, the smoke returned, the light faded, and the cave chilled in her wake.

“Wait! Wait! M-Mistress . . . Mistress Eva, please . . . please stay,” the teen blurted out, nearly falling to his knees behind her just before she turned, rolled her eyes, and acquiesced.

“Very well. First, get yourself up off the floor. Second, tell me your name.”

“Ummm . . . M-M-Mer,” he stammered.


“N-no. M-Mer.”


Mer nodded.

“This is something we really have to deal with, but first,” she pointed to the glen outside the cave, “you have about a dozen other furry abominations to clean up, and one seems to be breathing fire.”

Well, to say that this first lesson proceeded slowly was an understatement. The first afternoon was devoted to watching the boy try to catch the little creatures. It was difficult to tell who was more awkward as man-child and mutants stumbled amid the grass and trees. Then there were several flashes and bangs without significant progress (unless feathered bunny-frogs was somehow progress). After two weeks, even the ever-patient Eva was beginning to despair; she could see the power in the lad, she could feel it whenever she was within 50 feet of him. But there seemed to be a problem of confidence, of focus.

One evening, as Mer cleaned up the dinner dishes, Eva created a more comfortable ambience, clearing aside the workbench and animal cages with a thought and leaving a sofa and table along with two glasses of mead by the fire. “Come and relax, Mer,” she purred, patting the sofa next to her. As Mer drank his mead, she continued: “Lad, you have all of the potential to be a fine wizard, but none of the required control. I am going to help you with that.”

She moved her glasses to the end of her nose, her green-flecked eyes looking over the top of them and boring directly into the young wizard’s sky-blue orbs. “Listen to me and relax. Keep falling into my eyes . . . you simply cannot look away from my eyes, child . . . they are so welcoming to you . . . they keep drawing you in . . . you cannot see anything but my eyes, can you, my young apprentice?”

Mer nodded his head in time with her own nods.

“Wonnnnnnderful,” she continued. “You are listening soooooooo welllllllll. Now, young Mer, continue to relax into my eyes and listen to my voice. Your conscious mind is having trouble focusing. But your subconscious is absorbing every word, integrating it into your very being, young Mer.”

“S-s-sub . . . con . . . shus??” Mer stammered.

“Ohhhhhh . . . never you mind, my child,” Eva quickly corrected. “Just know that my words are filling you up, soaking into you . . . all you can see is my eyes . . . all you can hear is my voice . . . my voice fills you . . . What do you see?”

“Your eyesssssssssss . . .”

“Verrrrrrrry goooooooood. Annnnnnd what do you hear, child?”

“Your voicccccce.”

“Excellennnt. Now, you know you are teacher’s faaaavorite student, yesss?”

Mer, unable to reason that he was the only student, simply nodded. Eva smiled.

“You are teacher’s pet, and you know that . . . Teacher has complete confidence in you . . . Teacher believes in your powers . . . But Mer is afraid to focusss . . . Mer is afraid . . . isn’t he?”

The teen nodded along with his tutor, his eyes never leaving hers.

“But Teacher’s Pet . . . he won’t be afraid . . . will he??”

He shook his head, slowly, side to side, the perfect mirror of his mentor.

“Whenever I touch your arm, like this,” she petted gently from his shoulder to his elbow, “you will find that your mind becomes clear and focused, that you are able to visualize exactly what you want to do, and whatever you visualize becomes reality.

“This is your teacher’s pet. Whenever you hear the words ‘Teacher’s Pet,’ you will feel my hand on your arm and be able to focus. Whenever I actually pet you, it will be the same effect. Whenever you feel that hand on your arm and focus, your spells will work and your powers will grow and you will learn even more.

“Now, whenever I actually pet your arm and say ‘Teacher’s Pet’ at the same time, you will return to this trance-like state, and, no matter how powerful a sorcerer you become, you will be completely receptive to whatever I tell you, Mer.”

When the youth came out of his trance, he found his workroom back to normal. Eva was standing by the cages, asking: “Just what can my Teacher’s Pet do with this lot?”

Mer felt the oddest sensation on his arm and then, suddenly, found a great sense of calm and focus. That night, the rabbit population in that region of Wales burgeoned. Over the coming weeks, he learned a myriad of new spells and techniques, including the ability to speed read-“This will come in tremendously handy over the years,” Eva promised. Whenever he began to falter, Eva would speak softly, and the words “Teacher’s Pet” would change his whole demeanor. As weeks became months, and his teacher helped him to obtain a large number of scrolls and folios, the softly spoken trigger became whispered, and then, finally, not needed at all. Oftentimes, young Mer still felt the hand on his arm without the phrase being said.

So it was, one late night, as he had been perfecting something Eva called “teleportation,” that she brought up the subject of his name again. “Is ‘Mer’ really all the name you have?”

“Well, my full given name is ‘Mer Landon Iago Neussnid.’ But that is a bit long for this business, I believe. Maybe I should just go with the last name . . .”

Eva mumbled something, only half paying attention as combinations, possibilities, and anagrams were flying through her mind. She had truly begun to believe that either she or Thomas Malory was somewhat mistaken. Now a broad smile filled her face as the pieces fell into place.

“Think about borrowing bits of that name. Imagine ease of speech, meanings, something new compared to something old. What should Teacher’s Pet do?”

The student’s mind focused into it’s deepest depths, a long silence followed by a single word: “Merlin.”

Eva smiled broadly, and kissed her pupil’s cheek. Then there were no more words. She was gone. Merlin flourished on his own: read, learned, traveled, and honed his powers. Even without the words, he felt his teacher petting his arm, every day, so much so that it simply became part of his psychic existence.

Then he happened upon a folio labeled Mesmerism. This took quite a bit more time to master, and Merlin was well into his forties, if not older, as the age of kings and tribal alliances began to overtake Britain, and he sought out someone whom he could mentor the way Eva had once done for him, someone who could improve the world, or, at least, the lot of the British Isles.

He found a gangly teen named Arthur Pendragon. There was something about this boy’s heart, his spirit, that made him bear watching and training.

It would have been too easy to enchant the sword, or even the stone it was stuck in. As a test of his skills, still aware-more now, perhaps, than in years-of his teacher’s persistent pet on his arm, Merlin planted suggestions in the minds of most of Britain’s warriors that they could never move that sword, even if they consciously believed they could, and in one gangly teenager the firm belief that he could, of course, easily remove the sword, even if every fiber of his conscious being and every scrap of external evidence told him that he couldn’t.

So it was that, in time, Camelot was nearly complete, most of the knights had been welcomed to the Round Table, and Arthur was courting a young lady named Guinivere. Merlin had moved from his old cave to what appeared to be rooms in the lower levels of the new castle, but which actually led to something much grander, much further below.

And that is where she reappeared.

Her dress and her shoes were of similar tailoring as before, but were red this time, and she hadn’t bothered with an overcoat for this appearance. Yet no time seemed to have passed for her; there was no change in her facade. Merlin found her draped across his workbench, and he rubbed his eyes . . . then rubbed his eyes again. “Teacher? Is that you?”

Eva eyed her former protégé up and down. Time had clearly brought him more changes than it had her, and she was appreciative of how he had grown and filled out. While not muscle bound, his six-foot, two-inch frame was, quite clearly, well-proportioned. His features were chiseled but not overly harsh, and his blue eyes had taken on a clarity of steely focus rather than vacancy. Her eyes paused slightly south of the cincture that gathered up his robes; it was a pity that these outfits did so little to reveal certain attributes of male anatomy. There was an audible sigh, and then, “So you found that Mesmerism folio, didn’t you? And did something very dramatic?”

“Well, yes, there was my student, Arthur, and this whole sword-in-a-stone myth that I used to get him in line for the throne. How did you know?”

“Can’t you feel others use their powers, Mer?”

No one had called him that in over a generation. It made him feel gangly, awkward, nervous, and aware of that ever-present psychic petting. “Well, yes. I hadn’t really thought about . . .”

“And what did I tell you about thinking about everything? Well, when someone uses powers on the magnitude you do, it is enough to cause someone like me to think about it. That’s how I found you in the first place, you know.”

“So, that’s why you have returned after all these years? To check up on me?”

“Well, yes and no”-she had swung her legs down and dropped to the floor, and was now sauntering over to him. “I wanted to see how you were doing, and ‘all these years’ do not apply to me quite the same way as they do you. But there was something else.” She gently rubbed his arm as she stood on tiptoe and whispered, “Do you feel your teacher’s pet?”

The already-legendary mage’s face went blank and slack, his eyes glazed and vacant.

Eva ran her hands over her erstwhile student’s broad chest, as he stood, unmoving: “Oh, sweet Mer, I have been waiting for you for ever so long. I just knew you had the power and ability in you to control minds on such a spectacular scale, and I had hoped”-she paused to purr-“you would fill out so nicely.

“No one would guess looking at a woman like me, but I have a strong submissive streak, and for what feels like centuries I’ve longed for a man who could take me under into deep hypnosis while we enjoyed each other. The trouble for so long has been that there is no one who could possibly take me into such a profound trance . . . well, nobody except a couple of incredibly old magi who are too wizened, dried up, and pungent for any amount of hypnosis to make intercourse palatable. I could be cryogenically frozen and still not be far enough under for that.

“Then, one day, sweet Mer, I had the opportunity to come find you. Even then, I couldn’t be sure how you would turn out. But here you are, wise and altruistic and”-she paused as one hand traveled south for a more thorough anatomical investigation-“yessss, very nicely equipped.”

The sorceress circled her pupil, regarding him and formulating her words carefully. “Merlin, are you listening to me.”

“Yes, teacher.”

“Do you remember that you absorb anything and everything I say when you are in this state?”


“Merlin, you are going to put me into trance and bring out all my submissive sexual desires. You will be tender and caring, but you will be in charge, being sure that I do everything you say and that I am aware of it all, but helpless to stop you. This will continue, either until you fall asleep twice or I pet your arm.”

She took a step back from him: “Begin.”

Merlin took a deep breath, and addressed his former mentor in a voice that seemed to echo through the cave, despite not being very loud: “Eva!”

Suddenly, for all her power, all her training, all her self-control, the seemingly timeless mage found herself frozen in her tracks, unable to do anything but stare into his steely blue eyes.

“Eva, you are drawn to my eyes, aren’t you?”


“My eyes feel like a warm, safe place for you . . . you want to fall into my eyes . . . you want to give up control to me . . . you are so tired of always being in control . . . you just want to give it all to me and let me decide things for you, don’t you, Eva?”


“Just let yourself fall, Eva . . . let me control everything for you . . . the further you fall, the safer you feel . . .”

“Saaaffffer . . .”

“The further you fall, the more aroused you become . . . the more aroused you feel, the further you fall . . .”

“Oooooohhhhhhh, yesssssssss . . .”

“The more aroused you feel, the further you fall . . . falling . . . enjoying . . . you find yourself desiring me . . . wanting to give yourself to Merlin . . . your body lost in my power . . .”

“ooooooooohhhhhhhhhh . . .”

“From now on, you desperately want my body . . . your body craves mine . . .”

“Yesssssssssssssssss . . .”

“Your intellect knows exactly what is going on, but it is your lusts, your passions that shall rule you . . .you will do as I say . . . you cannot help yourself . . . and you loooooove to submit to me, don’t you, Eva?”

The enchantress’ knees buckled as that thought became her reality: “Unnnnnnnnnhhhhhh . . . YESSSSSSS!!!”

“Make yourself naked for me, woman!”

Eva proceeded to do a sensual strip tease for her ersatz student, and then, at a nod from him, to remove his garments, kissing and biting at the places she had lain bare. When the cincture and robe finally fell to the stone floor, Eva knelt before him, and began kissing his member and licking at his ball sack. Finally, she took him in her mouth, hungrily, wildly, her eyes almost feral.

After she had swallowed everything a large, soft bed appeared-whether it was by her power or his, neither seemed to know or care. He guided her over to it, both their bodies already glazed with sweat, and he took her, repeatedly, in various positions, with the wizard from Wales always on top. After several hours and even more climaxes, both collapsed on the large bed. Eva was somewhat disappointed that he had fallen asleep so easily, but continued tasting him until she, too, dozed off, curled up next to him.

Merlin awoke first. Since no part of these subterranean apartments was lit by natural means, he had no way of telling what time it was. When he walked to another chamber the waters in a shallow stone pool stirred. He was able to watch Guinevere steal down a deserted passage after a rendezvous with Lancelot. “The time has come,” Merlin thought. He knew the end of Camelot was at hand, and that he could not prevent it alone.

Then he remembered. “Come to me, Eva,” his voice again echoed through the caverns without seeming loud at all.

His teacher’s eyes popped open, and she scampered across the floor like a love-struck co-ed who’d only recently lost her virginity, clearly hoping to lose some more if that was possible. She snuggled up next to her man, took a long whiff of his musk, and began licking.

“Not now, sweet teacher. Now I need you to help me prevent the destruction of Camelot.” He pushed her away from him. “She"-he pointed at the queen’s image and sneered-“has allowed herself to fall in love with Lancelot while still loving Arthur. The passions in the three of them run too strong for me to easily manipulate all their minds. I need you, my sweet”-he pulled Eva’s hand up and kissed it-“to force her to do the right thing, so that she may be executed. I can convince the King to be swift, and then get him and Lancelot to set their differences aside so that the Round Table survives. We can always procure for him another woman later.”

Eva’s face took on a confused look; her lusts and passions were addicted and submissive to this mage, but her intellect was still functioning, and putting whole new things together. “Procure another woman!?” she thought. “Why . . . this idiot is going to CAUSE Arthur’s temper to be lost, he’s going to try to control Lancelot and not manage it, and he will destroy all of this because of his backward ideas about women and relationships! And now he wants me to . . . to HELP him do this, to get Guinivere to commit assisted suicide, not because of Arthur’s prejudices, but because of Merlin’s.”

Merlin saw the confusion in Eva: “Come now, you may not agree with my methods, but you have to support my goals. Besides, you are addicted to me. You want me and need me.” He pulled her close to him again and growled with self-satisfaction as she inhaled deeply again: “If you want this ever again, woman, you will do as you are told.”

There were almost tears welling up in her eyes as she moistened at the warmth of his body, the steady “thrum” of his heartbeat. She knew that what he wanted was wrong, misogynistic, positively medieval (well, that last part did make some sense), but if she ever hoped to do any more than pet this body she ached for, the way she was doing right now, she . . .

Wait a minute.

She was petting him!

Her right hand slid across his left pectoral, over his shoulder, and . . .

Merlin stood, slack-jawed, drooling, and naked, as Eva, fully clothed, her wits about her, walked around him, occasionally testing his stiffness. “Well, you just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you? You had to see how far you could push your dominance, instead of seeing how it would lead to mutual pleasure. So you squandered a prospect that, admittedly, you were already wasting-Did it ever occur to you that, given all the wheres and whens I have been where you haven’t, I might have a few positions and techniques to share that you might enjoy?-all to play matchmaker as well as kingmaker. For all that you know, all the skills you have acquired, you have really learned so little.”

She drew up close, on tippy-toe, and whispered in his ear: “It’s a good things teacher’s pet could work everything out for you again, isn’t it?”

Guinivere had a long talk with Arthur, and both had an even longer talk with Lancelot, and the marriage survived and all became even closer friends than before. Camelot survived, keeping the Normans out of Britain in 1066, and delaying Magna Carta by only a bit. Londinium never did become the seat of government. And all of this was changed because people were able to figure out how to get along and enjoy one another.

Eva curled up in her Australian townhouse in 2075 CE, watching the televised coverage of the annual meeting of the British Federation. Her homeland hosted this year, with representatives of the English, Scottish, Welsh, Irish, Canadian, Alaskan, Australian, and Indian Parliaments, along with the Parliament of the America States, all led by Queen Guinivere XI, her son, Lancelot VII, Prince of Wales, at her side. The splendor of this empire, in its third century of circling to globe, meeting together was quite profound even when they weren’t at Camelot.

She set down her hot chocolate, and stroked the white rabbit who was in her lap. “There, there, Merlin,” she cooed, “just relax and continue to enjoy your teacher’s pet.”