The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I’ve been an avid reader of this forum for several years now. Like most people, I feel the same excitement others feel from reading the occassional diamond in the rough. Unsurprisingly, I don’t get as excited reading some of the stories, and, in fact, I find myself smirking in amusement when I encounter stories about vampires. Even if people don’t truly know vampires, it is not unimaginably difficult to take what little people know of vampires and turn it into an erotic story. Such isn’t the case here.

I’ve debated with myself for the longest time whether to tell my story now, and finally I’ve decided to take a calculated risk. After all, properly done, one can send email over the Internet and make it extremely difficult to trace its origins. That and the fact that I live in a remote, third world country gives me the confidence that I can post here without endangering myself or my kind. Most people wouldn’t believe it, anyway.

If it’s not yet apparent by now, I am a vampire, and I would like to share some of the things that have happened in my existence with the hope that I can return to those authors the favor of providing me hours of entertainment reading their fiction.

I am not immortal. Vampires aren’t. Though our lifespans are much longer than humans, we do die of (extremely) old age (in the order of three centuries, if one is lucky). As far as I know, we are of human descent. Our physiological makeup is very similar to humans from whom, I guess, we have evolved. One concept current myths do have right, though, is that we subsist on blood to survive, though the hunger comes much rarely than is commonly assumed—something in the order of once every four weeks or so.

I have many stories and this is just one of them.

Much the same way a woman start to feel the coming of their period, I had begun to feel the telltale signs of the onset of Hunger. Like a hunter, I set out to find my victim, and on this particular occassion, I had been searching for about three days when I found my ... mark.

I try not to hunt in any predictable pattern. On this day, I was walking up and down the streets of one of the subdivisions in the city that I lived in carefully scanning for opportunities to fee. A car with a solitary female passenger drove by and parked a few houses down the direction I was going. My heart started to race a bit as I picked up my pace and walked towards the car.

The lady got out of the car. She was dressed in a white collarless t-shirt and a pair of non-descript shorts. She was of average height and build, black hair and brown skin.

She moved to the boot of the car, popped the lid then started taking out plastic bags of groceries.

Trying not to appear too excited, I jogged over and greeted her.

“Hi! How’re you doing?” I asked.

“Doing well. And you?”

“Not too bad,” I replied. “I just moved into the neighborhood. My house is about 2 blocks from here. May I help you with your stuff?”

Before she could answer, I started picking up some of her bags.

“My name’s Mark.”

“Hi, Mark. My name’s Sharon. And thanks.”

She led me to her front door, put down some of her grocery bags and fished inside her short’s pockets for her keys.

After opening the door, she set the bags down on the floor just inside the door and told me to put the bags beside the stuff she put down.

We went back to the car for the rest of her groceries. By this time, my body was already starting to react in anticipation of feeding. As with most hunger pangs, my stomach had begun its process of producing hormones—gastrin, secretin and cholecystokinin—causing my stomach to start producing acids. Unlike human hunger pangs, however, glands in my abdomen started to release another hormone. This caused another organ to produce a chemical which was now slowly seeping out of me like sweat. It had a scent similar to that of sweat albeit with a slightly sweet undertone. I had gotten used to it by now so that I hardly noticed when it started to waft.

“So how long have you lived here?” I asked, trying to make small talk.

“My husband, Arnold, and I have been living here for almost five years now. Er, would you like to come in for a glass of water?”

“Sure,” I replied as I smiled and picked up the grocery bags lying on the floor.

She closed the door behind us and led me to the kitchen. I could see she was starting to sweat even though it wasn’t a particularly hot day nor did we exert a lot of physical effort bringing in the groceries.

“I’ve been going around the neighborhood and have met some of my neighbors. This is a very friendly place. I’m glad I finally picked this place to live in,” I said, continuing to make small talk.

“Well, Arnold and I like it. It’s pretty close to his work, too.”

“What does your husband do?”

“Arnold? He’s a software developer. He works with embedded systems. What do you do?”

“Don’t laugh, but I’m an antiques dealer. I find antiques from all over the country, restore them and sell them. You and your husband are welcome to come over to my place and check out the stuff I have there. I’m sure I can let go of a piece or two at no profit.”

Sharon laughed. “Oh, I’m sure you don’t need to do that ... and Arnold and I would be glad to come over. At the very least, we could welcome you properly to the neighborhood.”

We chatted for a few more minutes and it was all I could do to look calm even though I was craving inside. The chemicals I was releasing into the air were obviously starting to have an effect on her as she was starting to sweat too and was beginning to figet a bit.

“Did you just come from jogging?” I asked. “You were in shorts. You seem to be in good shape.”

“Yes, I went out jogging this morning. I try to jog every other day.”

“Well, it’s certainly done you wonders. You look really nice. Nice, strong legs.” I smiled. By this time I could see she was starting to get really bothered.

“Are you alright?” I asked as she grabbed on to the edge of the table seeming about to faint.

“I’m alright. I just felt dizzy for a second,” she replied. She seemed to shiver and cross her arms in front of her.

“You better sit down on the couch and I’ll go grab you a glass of water.”

Before she could protest, I grabbed her arm and saw her shuder visibly. I led her to the couch, sat her down, and walked back into the kitchen. There I took my time getting her her glass of water wanting to let the pheromones invade her system even more.

After about five minutes, I walked out with a glass of water in my hand. She was lying down on the couch with one arm stretched out in front of her, her hand underneath a throw pillow that lay strewn across her groin. It didn’t escape my notice that the pillow was rocking back and forth on its precarious perch abover her.

She raised her head looked in my direction as I walked in. She seemed about to say something when her eyes rolled back into her head, her eyelids closed and a low groan escaped her throat. All the while the pillow continued to move on top of her.

I smiled as I closed in on her.

“Here ... have some water. You look hot.”

She opened her eyes in time to see me dip my index finger in the glass of water then extend my hand towards her lips and wet her lips with it. With a small amount of pressure, I pushed her lips apart and met resistance from her teeth but only for a few seconds. Her teeth slowly parted allowing my intruding finger to enter the hot recesses of her mouth. She started sucking on my finger and I inserted it deeper into her throat, feeling her coarse tongue then pulling out again. The pillow started moving faster, more frantically.

Then I took my finger out of her mouth.

“What do we have here?” I asked as I moved to her midsection. I put my hand on the pillow covering her and looked at her face. She was looking back at me with a mixed look of longing and dread in her face. She started shaking her head in the negative and her mouth mumbled, “P-please ... no ...”

Still looking her in the eyes, I removed the pillow to see her hand had sneaked under the elastic of her shorts. From the movement of the cloth, it was obvious she was rubbing herself.

“That’s a good girl,” I said, and smiled at her. She closed her eyes.

Grabbing both sides of her shorts, I tried to pull it down. Her eyes immediately shot open and looked at me with alarm, but she didn’t say anything. Her hand didn’t even stop from its ministrations.

I pulled down again and this time I could hear her moan as she lifted her pelvis off of the couch. With the weight off, I was able to pull her shorts and panties down to her knees, then her ankles and off of her.

The delicious scent of her musk assailed my olfactory senses. I bent down and took a deeper whiff of her sex. I could see her hand now as it assailed her wet pussy. She had black pubic hair and her hand glistened with her juices. I could see her long-nailed fingers rub her clit in a circular motion with much force and erratic rhythm—like someone desperately trying to scratch an unscratchable itch. She was a most delicious sight lying down on the sofa with only her shirt to cover her.

Wanting to see more of her, I split her legs wide. One leg I moved to the floor, the other I placed on top of the sofa backrest. Spread like that, it was only then that I noticed her other hand.

Her other hand was underneath her and pinned to the cushion. What I didn’t know was that her hand had also sneaked its way between her ass cheeks. With her spread like this, I could see that she had the tip of her middle finger lodged into her asshole. While she was busilly frigging her clit, her other finger was inside her anus rubbing her inner walls.

With an evil grin, I moved back to the head of the sofa and put my hands on both sides of her face. She didn’t even open her eyes, but kept mumbling over and over again, “Ahh ... fuck ... meee! Ah fuck, fuck, FUCK!”

“Where’d you learn to fuck yourself in the ass like that?” I asked.

I must’ve gotten through to her, lost as she was in the blissful throes of passion, since she increased the tempo of her rubbing and starting bucking her pelvis.

I tighthened my grip on her face and asked her again, “Where’d you learn to bugger yourself in the arse like that?”

Shaking her head, she muttered, “My cousin and I ... we ... I ... Ungh!” She must’ve orgasmed then as she stopped what she was saying and went slightly stiff, but only for a moment then she resumed frigging herself.

In my mind I was starting to think, So ... she and her cousin must’ve confided with each other ... probably discussed boys and talked about the things they did when having sex.

“So you and your cousin talked about masturbating and reaming your arses?”

She moaned “No” and shook her head, her eyes still closed.

“Then what?!” I asked. I could sense that she was getting even more excited as she started to tell me.

“My ... cousin ... he was the first person to fuck me ... taught me how fucking good it was. He’d position me on top of him ...”

Her frigging had become even more erratic.

“Then he’d fuck me from below. His hand would ... it would slide down my back, down my ass, take some of my cum onto his finger and insert it into my waiting hole!”

“Oh fuck .. fuck! I’d come so fucking hard!!!”

She shuddered, and apparently did cum.

Just then, I heard a car pull up into the driveway. I moved to the door and, looking outside, I saw a man get out of the car and head towards the door. I positioned myself behind the foyer entrance.

The knob turned and in walked the man I presumed to be her husband. He had some mail in his hand and was heading for the kitchen when the most unusual sight met his eyes. His wife was on the sofa naked from the waist down, legs splayed wide across and down the sofa, masturbating!

“Mmm! What’s my lovely wife up to?” he asked.

Before Arnold could take another step, I stepped up behind him and smashed both fists into the back of his head. He crumpled to the floor. Worrying about Sharon for a second, I looked up at only to see her still busy fingering herself.

I tied Arnold up to a chair with some twine I found in the kitchen and stuffed a rag into his mouth. By the time he came to, my cock was already lodged deep inside his wife’s mouth while she kneeling on the floor and fingering herself. She was looking up at me with wild abandon, not oblivious of her husband but not caring either.

Some of the pheromone that I produced had run down my abdomen and onto my cock and Sharon was now busilly licking it up.

Gently positioning Sharon back on the sofa, I left her to play with herself while I walked to her husband. Arnold strained to look at me as I walked behind him. With one precise movement, I rapped at the back of his head with my hand and he lost consciousness again.

Now, most vampires are portrayed to be evil in fiction, but that’s not entirely accurate, either. At least I don’t think I’m evil. It’s just my nature to feed. Her husband didn’t have to see what would happen next.

With the hunger now at its frantic peak, I moved to Sharon who was sitting with legs spread on the couch. I knelt in front of her. Sensing what I was about to do, she raised both her legs and propped her feet against the edge of the sofa. She stopped fingering herself and grabbed the back of my head.

Two razor-sharp fangs which before now were retracted and hidden, slowly emerged from the cavity between my lips and two upper canines. I took a gentle lick of her distended clit which drove her wilder with pleasure. I opened my mouth and took her entire clitoris in and sucked it like I had done her nipples earlier. Not wasting any more time, I “bit” her in the soft, fleshy part of her crotch and injected venom into her.

What happened next was so familiar, it had become rote.

The neural toxin was an alkaloid very much like morphine. The toxin blunted the pain of my canines digging deep into her flesh, puncturing her right external iliac vein. As I started to feed, the toxins flowed into her body making her body more sensitive to the pleasure of my tongue still licking her and three of my fingers inserted into her pussy and rubbing at her upper walls. Her heart started beating rapidly from both the excitement of what I was doing to her and the effects of the toxin. Her body were starting to get weak yet her oxygen-starved brain was experiencing peaks of pleasure it had never before encountered. Through my mouth’s contact with her, I could feel her heart beat slower. Her hands on the back of my head weakened and finally went limp at her side. A few more seconds and I was done feeding.

As I moved away from her still form, I approached her still unconscious husband. Pulling back his neck, I bit deep into his jugular and sucked. I was already sated by then, but I decided to take a taste anyway. I didn’t want to be rude.

Moving to the kitchen, I opened the valve of the tank of LPG and switched on one of the gas burners. It wasn’t one of those automatics with pilot lamps so the gas didn’t light up. Instead, it diffused into the air. I grabbed a box of matches on the way out, and with it lit a corner of the sofa. I looked back one more time at my work then let myself out the door.

By the time I reached my car parked a few blocks away, several pieces of furniture and upholstery had already caught fire. As I drove by, I could see the whole house engulfed in flame. Fortunately, firetrucks take a long time to reach any place in this part of the world.

I drove away already thinking about what I’d be watching on the television that night.