The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Story: Ancient Requiem—Passionato

by J. Darksong

Fiona Nyx sat near the edge of the clear blue waters, letting the tide flow up to her position, soaking her bare toes. She’d just performed the ritual morning dance to the Sun, watching the huge ball rise slowly on its way west. The calming rhythm, the gentle breeze, the refreshing water, and the scenery she’d longed to return to for so many years... it all failed to sooth her troubled soul. The Dragon had been slain, the Beast, sent back into limbo; she should have felt vindication, or at least satisfaction. Instead, all she felt was a deep sense of pain and loss.

What’s wrong with me? Why do I still feel the fear? Is there no peace for me, even here? Even now?

The wind off the mountainous peaks seemed to whisper to her, softly, as it stroked her heated body. She felt feverish, and the clear blue waters and the calming sea breeze helped, but couldn’t quite quench the fire she felt inside.

She closed her eyes and saw the flames. Fires burning, consuming everything in sight. Her entire haunted past began to float before her, from the death of her Clan, her sisters being slaughtered and killed before her eyes, to the final battle against the Dragon and the Beast. In every case, loss, and pain colored each scene, a constant companion during her life. She felt a deep pool of despair begin to rise inside her, but with an effort, she pushed it down.

Something is burning within me, eating at my insides.

Dark thoughts stirred deep in her mind.

She was alone. Here, in the place of her birth, the closest thing she had to a home, she was alone. Her friends, her lovers, thousands of miles away—

Far away, where they’ll be safe.

—ready and eager to serve her merest whim. Dara. Marcy. Bessie. Alice. Corelle. Doris. Candy. Peacock. Saika. All of them, worshiping her, lapping at her fountain, drinking from the wellspring of her sex. Fiona’s clit pulsed with pleasure as she imagined all the dark, twisted things she could do to them. WOULD do to them—

Never! I won’t! I will not let that happen! What in blood’s name is wrong with me?

Hours passed as the surf moved up over her legs again, soaking her spread thighs, teasing her yoni, distracting her, giving the dark whispers within her mind a tiny foothold. Her fingers moved to tease her tender folds, stroking and building that small fire into a roaring flame. She groaned in sublime pleasure as the darkness twisted and pulsed inside her. Her breath grew ragged and short. It was becoming a struggle to even remember to fight against it.

Circle. Circle. A slight twist.

The pleasure increased with each pass, and the fire between her legs stoked hotter in time with the soft, burning, pulse inside her mind. A second finger joined the first, and then another, her body alive with the sensation, hips beginning to move slightly to the rhythmic dance the rushing blood rushing in her temples was causing.

Circle. Circle. Twist.

Fiona’s eyes fluttered half closed as the scalding pleasure built into an inferno. The dark, decadent thoughts trickled forth once more, soft murmuring words, teasing her mind like a lovers caress.

She had proved herself a power, a force to be reckoned with, to be feared. She had destroyed one of the oldest and most powerful Ancients. She had sent the immortal Beast back into limbo. Why should she hide, secreted away to an isolated spot of the world? Why should she cower away from the rest of the world, when she could own it with but a Glance?

I could rule this world unchallenged, Fi mused darkly, pulling hard on her stud-pierced lips. I could take them all, sweep down upon the people of this planet, make them mine in a way that warmonger Salamander had only dreamed. Her clit pulsed gleefully at the thought. I could have them all, the entire world, kissing my feet, worshiping between my thighs...

Circle. Circle. Twist. Pull.

She meditated for dark minutes.

A man walked along the shore several yards away, apparently collecting shells. Fiona started slightly at the intrusion, then smiled devilishly, considering the possibilities. From the distance he seemed fit and trim, rather rugged, and strong.

He might even last an hour or two, if I go easy on him. But then again, where’s the fun in that? It’s been SUCH a long time since I’ve had some company.

The man walked steadily forward, stopping now and again to examine a particular shell, not yet having seen her watching him. Stretching luxuriously, Fiona stood on her feet and approached the young man, shifting her hips with each step, luxuriating in the sensation of her bare thighs stroking her wet moist sex.

“I think you’ll find this is a closed beach,” she said softly, catching the man’s attention.

The man, startled, blushing, stammered an apology, averting his eyes somewhat. “Oh, pardon me, miss,” he said in crisp English tones. “Bert Havisham. I seem to have, ah, wondered a bit farther than I should have liked. Hmm. Yes, I was looking at shells, you see,” he said, gesturing to the small wicker basket in his hands. The naked woman merely looked him over, obvious in her glances, making him blush all the more.

“I’m, uh, I’m a bit of a beachcomber, actually,” he continued on, somewhat anxiously. He was trying to avert his eyes, but Fiona kept moving into his line of sight, as if taunting him with her body. “Shells,” he blurted out, wiping his brow with his hand. “They’re my hobby, you see. Been up here in Tunisia for a few weeks now, on vacation, seeing the sights, the mosques, a few museums, and all, but this is my first chance to really just relax and explore the coastline. You know... uhm, really take in the local scenery.”

Fi nodded. “I see.” She leaned forward,casually brushing at the sand on her breats, while he glanced there, then away. “Perhaps you’ll let me take a closer look at just what brought you up here.” She could see her closeness was affecting him, making him begin to sweat more despite the relatively cool early morning air. Her body had healed from the ravages of the prior months, and judging from the Englishman’s reaction, she’d begun to take on a bit more of her former glory. He was still averting his eyes, blushing furiously, but occasionally he would steal a quick glance. Fiona almost laughed at his modesty. Placing her hands to the side of his head, she turned his face to her own.

Eyes wide, he tried to look away before, ohbloodyhell—

—Crimson. Bloody impure light. Dark fires raging, burning, devouring... Twisting. So wonderfully twisted, bent beyond recognition. Such cruel things. A taste of leather, rubber, unclean things. Spreading my ass for you! Hurt me! Rip away my mind, dominate me, twist me! Your puppet. Your toy. Your sex toy. Burning with passion, pleasure, oh GOD, the fucking pleasure! Break me! Warp my mind into obedience! FUCK ME! RIDE ME! BREAK ME! WEAN ME ON YOUR SWEET PUSSY JUICES! BURNING! BURNING! TWISTMYFUCKINGBENTWARPEDPUSSYLOVINGMIND—

Bert opened his eyes again, to find himself naked, dazed, lying on the wet sand, panting softly. Fiona smiled down at him, her thighs still flushed from the sex. The man was a stallion, a treasure trove of repressed, sexual tension, tightly coiled like a spring. It was surprisingly simple to twist his mind to her whim. Even now he looked up at her with an empty vacant smile, drooling slightly, his brain numb of any thought other than pleasing her. She nodded to him, a single jerk of her chin, and immediately, he lowered his face down at her feet, kissing, licking, sucking on her silt covered toes, worshiping them. The sensations sent wave after wave of pleasure crawling up her spine, and her eyes fluttered half-closed. She felt her thighs quiver, growing slick again.

Ohhh... that’s so nice, Fi thought to herself, letting herself drift in sensual bliss. Mmmmm. I haven’t felt this way in so long... in decades... not since the last time I’ve had a man worshiping at my feet this way...

Bert smiled a secret smile, working his clever tongue along her ankles, and her calves, slowly moving up towards the altar of his worship. The moment his tongue touched Fiona’s wet dripping snatch, sparks erupted, making them both gasp.

Fiona slipped back down to the sand, groaning deeply, as Bert delved deeper into her molten pussy. His tongue... it seemed to stretch to fill every nook and cranny inside her, and his hands stroked her nerve endings in ways she had seldom felt before. Her thoughts, dark, dirty, filthy things, faded away under the onslaught, leaving her breathless. He lifted her hips. She felt his tongue stroking her backside, and her muscles relaxed, allowing the intruder to enter her nether hole. His face danced before her half-lidded eyes, bright, yellow, glowing with a light of its own, and a single word danced nimbly on the tip of her tongue.

A familiar flash of heat.

Suddenly, he was there, astride her, pinning her down roughly, holding her arms in place. Fiona struggled lightly for a moment, but she felt drained, empty, dried and wilted like dead leaves. He slapped her, hard, and she moaned and came. Eyes bright, her supposed love-thrall mounted her fully, driving his cock once again into her cunt, making her cum again instantly. She was being taken, hard and rough, against her will, and she relished it.

Fi arched her back as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her body, like a great rushing River, flooding her mind and body. It was a tsunami, a monsoon, a cataclysm of sexual ecstasy that ripped apart her innermost thoughts and feelings, leaving behind only a hot, nurturing light...

* * *

“Jeanette?”

Fiona opened her eyes, groaning softly. She felt weak as a kitten, and yet, strangely better than she had felt in a long long time. Everything seemed to have a soft pale glow to it now, as if filled with moonlight. Her eyes focused on Bert, kneeling at her side, and everything came flowing back to her.

Bert. No, not Bert. James.

“Jeanette?” he asked again, peering down at her, anxiously. “Are you okay?”

James. James Darkchilde. New York, 1798. Friend. Samaritan. Lover.

Fiona managed to sit up. “I haven’t heard that name in over two hundred years. I’m called Fiona now.” She looked at him. “And I haven’t seen your face in all this time either. Well met, James Darkechilde.”

He sighed softly. “It’s Jonothan these days, Fiona. How do you feel?”

Fiona thought for a moment. “Better. Refreshed. Clean. Healed.” She paused, and looked at him, closely. “Just why did I need to be Healed, Jonothan? What have you done to me?”

Where have you been all these years? she held back. Why did you leave? Where were you when I needed a friend? And why are you back now, of all times?

Darke saw the anger in her eyes, felt the blank accusation in her voice. “I’ve been watching over you all this time, somewhat discreetly,” he admitted softly. “I know I left somewhat... abruptly.”

Her eyes flashed angrily, remembering their final night together. “I couldn’t explain then. I had my reasons, many of them I don’t understand fully myself. I just had to stay away for a while... let you learn not to depend on others so much. I knew some of what lay ahead... and that you had to be strong enough to face it and survive. And you couldn’t do that with me there, holding your hand.”

Fiona’s expression turned cold at that. “What a convenient rationale. Well, as I recall, you were never the one for hand holding anyway, so I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Darke winced slightly at the retort. He hadn’t wanted it to be that way.

Her plain, angular face spoke volumes of nothing.

“Yes, well,” Darke continued after a moment. “As for why I’m here, now... I’ve been trying to find you ever since your first run in with the Dragon. I know firsthand how insidious those damn needles can be,” he said, flatly, eyes shadowed in memory. “I came to find you, to Heal the damage she had inflicted on you, but you decided to leave your bolthole before I arrived.”

Fi swallowed her first question; had he let that happen to her? She merely nodded at his glance. “That was... a very bad time for me,” she said after a while. “What Fu did to me... what she made me into... someone important, someone of much love died at my hands. After I took my vengeance, I found I just couldn’t trust myself. I had to get away for a while.”

Darke placed a hand gently against her bare back, letting his Touch gentle and sooth her. The psychic trauma had been Healed; the pain she felt from the memory now was the returning ache of loss, and sadness. After a moment, her hand clasped his own and stilled the caress.

“She knew how to work the River in small ways that could penetrate any defense. She broke me down. I became a weapon of her dark work. It woke older things I had put to rest. My revenge in return seemed to affect her more than I imagined it could.”

Jonothan nodded in sympathy. “You had your revenge, Fiona. Celestial Fu died. But what rose from her ashes was a thousand times worse than Fu had ever been. Still, no one could have foreseen what would happen, least of all you...” he said, stroking her lovely face, fingers tracing the ridge along her false eye. “Especially you, love, who sees even less than most.” He chuckled softly, then winced slightly as Fiona snapped her teeth down on his finger in response. He pulled away from her, seeing the playful glint in her eyes. “Don’t start something you don’t want to finish,” Darke growled softly.

“Are you calling Dance with me, Healer?” Fi asked, sliding her arms around his waist.

Darke found her heat called for only one kind of dance, and responded in kind.

* * *

“How did you find me, anyway?” Fiona asked him some time later, as she lay beside him, idly stroking his chest.

Darke sighed, turning on his side to face her. “It wasn’t easy,” he admitted. “For a while, I almost convinced myself you were fine, that you were not as bad off as I thought.” He closed his eyes for a moment, before continuing. “I kept seeing the truth in my dreams, however. I knew you needed me. Ever since the night I first found you on the streets in old New York, we’ve been bound, you and I. I could FEEL you, even if I couldn’t find you.” He placed her questing hand against his heart.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered softly. “For a lot of things. Mostly, for not being there when you did truly need me... and for taking myself, and our time together, away from you. It was selfish... a way of protecting myself, should anyone manage to beat you, to conquer your mind and your soul. I always told myself I did it as much to protect you as to protect myself... but the truth is, I was just afraid.”

“Of course you were,” Fiona replied softly. “How could any soul with compassion not know the fear of our war of blood? But what you did... in a way, was as bad as what Celestial Fu did to me. You violated me, James. But... that’s what we all do, isn’t it? All just part of our nature? It’s our life, our talent, and it’s harder to NOT use it than to stop breathing the air. So, no, I don’t blame you. I can’t... because I’m just as guilty as you are. But, neither is it in my power to forgive you, James. The forgiveness has always been inside you. I think you can see that now.”

He squeezed her hand, gently. “Thank you. Truly. And I think that in part is what led me to seek you out... the need to absolve myself, and the hope of being forgiven. In helping you, I would be making up for the wrong I had done to you before.”

Fiona smiled. “An Ancient with a conscience,” she mused. “What’s this world coming to?”

Darke, however, remained grim. “It’s coming to an end, unless I complete what I was meant to do. Fiona, I must leave tomorrow and return to Hong Kong. There’s something important that I must do there.”

“Hong Kong?” Suddenly tense, Fiona was sitting up, staring intently into Darke’s face. “What’s happening in Hong Kong? Has the Beast somehow returned?”

“No. At least, I don’t believe so,” Darke added. “But it’s possible that it will return unless I fix things.” He sighed softly, looking away. “I have to perform the Shovktari... the Cleansing. All of the evil, the madness, poisoning the Great River... it has to be contained, shunted away, or it will never end. Only one of the Healing Clan can do it.”

“But... you are the last of that Clan,” Fiona said slowly. “The only one. You can’t possibly accomplish this by yourself!”

“I won’t be alone,” Darke said enigmatically. “I have help. But yes, it will be very taxing on me. I... may not survive it,” he admitted softly. “But I have no choice. WE have no choice. All of us are slowly being poisoned by the Great River daily, and it’s only a matter of time before someone else succumbs to the madness and welcomes the Beast back into this world again.” He slid a hand to Fiona’s, reaching to hold her for support, but she pulled away, angrily.

“You aren’t the man I remember. I can see the years have worn thin your soul. Do you think I learned nothing from my encounter with the Beast?” Fiona bared her teeth with deeper predator emotions. “I’m so tired of this. Why did you tell me this only to walk away for a Dance with death?”

He saw her anger grow and felt its bite through the River. Even covered with a shell, he sensed her Eye drawing currents from the River for a thousand miles around them. Darke drew back quickly, his defenses snapping up by reflex.

But something she said held him, and he lowered his shields, leaving himself completely naked to her wrath.

“You know how I feel about you, Jeannette,” he said softly, sweating under the heat of her gaze. “I won’t fight you. I won’t stop you. If this is what you need, to take out you anger and rage on me this way, then go ahead. Do whatever it takes. But when this is over, I will leave here, again, because I have to. Because no one else can do it.”

“Then I will go with you. Two together have more chance than one.”

Darke shook his head. “No. Your Eye would disturb the Balance I need.”

That fact, unknown to her, seemed to shatter her anger. She turned away and it was moments before he knew she sobbed so quietly.

And then he held her, gently, kissing her neck, her face, her eyelids, holding and caressing her. “I love you,” he said softly, over and over, content to merely hold her, despite the arousal her power, and her very nearness, was invoking in him. His hands evaded the slick, slippery slope of her thighs, avoided the fiery hot sex of her yoni, even knowing that she would respond. For the moment she needed comfort, and love, not sex, and he needed to give her what she ached for most in this moment.

* * *

“I’m going with you.”

Darke shook his head. “You can’t come, Fi,” he said, lasing up his boots. “For one, its too soon. You’re not fully recovered yet. You need more time. You won’t be able to help me in this. For another, you’re Eye is too intense for what I mean to do.” He glanced at her sidelong. “I won’t be able to think of what I’m doing with you near. Neither will most of my ‘help’.” He gave Fiona a small sad smile. “Can you really stand to face Doris and Evelyn this soon?”

“No.” Fiona sat back down, looking away. “So, I can’t help you at all?”

Darke paused, his hands holding the zipper of his pants. “Well, I can think of two things that you could do to help me,” he said slowly. “The first would be asking a lot from you. The second... would be asking even more. But both would help me immensely in facing my destiny.”

Her expression hardened, becoming again that plain and ancient mask. “What do you need from me?”

The pants slid back around his ankles as he reached down, pulling the redheaded Ancient to him. “For the first, I need you to empower me... with your Eye. To energize me, and prepare me for what I’m about to face. And for the second,” he said, kissing her roughly along her neck, “I need your blessing... and perhaps, your love.”

A sound emerged from Fiona’s throat, and she felt her body responding once again to Darke’s marvelous Touches.

Taking that as a ‘yes’, he began the slow, seductive, and extensive ravishment of Fiona’s body. Risking contact with the Great River, Jonothan connected himself to his lover, extending his power into her, sinking his essence into every pore, every nook, every cell of her being. He continued to work her strong, supple body into a slow boil, building her passions up at a painfully deliberate pace, meanwhile locking her muscles, preventing her from encouraging the pace. His own member began to pulse with need, but he resisted the urge to mount her, to bury himself within her soft waiting folds.

The sun watched them both.

Two hours later, Fiona was breathless with anticipation. Her body felt immolated in fire, suffused with volcanic heat; her nether lips were spewing constant wetness, begging to be filled. And yet the ritual went on. Darke continued to Touch and play with her body, stroking nerve endings here, teasing sweat-soaked flesh there, systematically reducing his lover to a near primal state. His own passions were just as high, and his cock dribbled steadily, bobbing, pulsing, desperate for relief. He felt all of Fiona’s overwhelming need through their connection, and only the focus of his own Healer-induced trance kept him from savaging her with need. Finally, however, he found what he had been seeking.

“There!” he half-shouted, half-growled, as he Touched the deepest part of Fiona, stroking that small single cluster of nerve and flesh, as he released the lock on her muscles. Instantly he was slammed hard to the ground, as she forced him inside her, crying aloud her joy at being filled. The two Ancients then engaged in the world’s oldest Dance, moving in tandem to a rhythm felt in the pulsing of their veins, writhing to the passionate staccato drum beat of their hearts beating as one. Gone were the higher thoughts of seduction, of control or dominance, of tenderness and love. They were locked in a cycle of primal, animal lust, existing only for the release of pleasure, and the creation of the moment.

When it came, their mutual release was indescribably intense. Fiona felt as if her body had dissolved, disintegrated under the brutal assault of sheer unfiltered pleasure. And it went on, and on, and on. She was one giant nerve ending, being both lashed and tickled, stimulated beyond her capacity. The world around her faded away, leaving her wrapped up in a soft, warm, safe place...

Coming to, several minutes later, she smiled, finding Jonothan asleep, still holding her in his arms. She shifted her position, slightly, trying not to wake him, but his eyes opened nonetheless. “Hi there,” he said sleepily, wearing a self-satisfied little smirk on his lips.

“ think I could burn that arch grin permanently into your face if you weren’t already a dead man, " Fiona replied, stretching. “As it is, I can forgive your ego on this occasion.”

Jonothan sighed deeply, foregoing his usual retort as he pulled away, moving to his feet again.

“Right,” Fiona said, sitting up as well. “You have to leave now, I suppose. Well, at least I can’t say you never gave me anything to remember you by.” Darke paused at that, wearing a strange expression, but then his face cleared.

“It’s time. Fiona, I go to face my future. If its possible, I will return to you.”

Fiona nodded stiffly. “You’ll return then. One night isn’t enough, Jonothan. We’ve much to talk about, you and I. You’ll be back.” She placed a hand to her face, to her false eye.

His eyes, calm moments before, went wide at the sight—

—Crimson. Scarlet flashes. Heat, burning searing heat, but pure this time. Clean. Pure. A thousand soft butterfly kisses. So fucking hot. Burning. A clean, clear flame, burning away all doubt, all weakness... Melting. So hot. A furnace of power. Wet pussy lips, weeping. My body, hard, strong, metal, a sword being tempered by fire. By flame. Oh GOD the Heat! Shaping... Molding... Forged by fire, Strengthened. ENERGIZED. EMPOWERED. THE POWER. SUCH POWER—

—and blinked again, glancing around the beach, finding himself alone. Sighing softly, brushing the sand from his clothes, Jonothan Darke got to his feet. Evening had fallen, and he knew he would have to leave now to make his flight back to Hong Kong. He wished he could have had the chance to say goodbye to her one last time before leaving.

“Perhaps,” he said softly to the evening sky, “I’ll get the chance to say hello again, instead.”

((End.))