The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Tamara flounced into the room. The afternoon sun was illuminating the curtains in its usual golden way, highlighting flights of dust motes in the beam that came through between them. Tamara tossed her gym bag onto her desk chair.

“That’s odd,” she thought—Cindy’s door was open. Although Tamara had always been a fan of the “unless you need privacy, leave the door open” school of thought, Cindy usually kept hers closed, whether she was home or not. Tamara wandered over to investigate.

Sticking her head in, she saw that Cindy was home, lying on her bed, reading a magazine. She was on her stomach, the dark red back of her head towards Tamara, and Tamara considered just going back to her room. Then again, Cindy should be encouraged to keep her door open, so maybe a little friendly suitemate banter was in order.

“Hey there, Cindy. How was... schoo..?” Her eyes widened.

It was as though music had begun to play when Cindy turned to face her. Something about Cindy’s face... so beautiful. Tamara was thunderstruck. How could she have not seen it before? So beautiful.

Cindy was talking to her. Oh shit! Had she been staring?

“...been at the gym?” rolled off Cindy’s lips, such wonderful lips, slightly curved down at the edges, giving her a serious—no—a sensual expression.

Concentrate, dammit.

“Ah, no, I’ve been out playing soccer. With the intramoral league. Mural. Intramural league.”

“Have fun?”

“I’d love to,” she thought, but managed to reply “Yeah, yeah, it was good. You interested in sucker? Soccer?”

“Only watching, really. I prefer indoor sports.”

She had to get out of here. She could feel “Oh? Like to try some?” pushing past her lips. “Oh, okay,” she replied, foolishly, and pulled her head back out of Cindy’s room.

Wow.

Was she...?

Yeah. There was no doubt about it. She was really, really attracted to Cindy. Attracted to her in a way that she hadn’t been attracted to anyone in in a long time. And never to a girl.

Tamara had to think about this. This was big. Resisting the strings pulling at her heart to walk back into that room, to be in Her presence, she picked her bag up off of her chair and headed for her own room. Closing the door behind her.

Sex with a girl. She hadn’t really considered it, before—no, hadn’t really wanted it, before. Not that Tamara had anything against casual sex. But this would be crossing some invisible line that she hadn’t yet crossed. Did she want to?

It was sudden, too—she’d lived with Cindy for months. Why did she suddenly find herself wanting to suck her toes now?

The shower was a good place to think. Particularly about sex.

Cindy’s mouth was now curled up into a most satisfied grin. Tamara had stood there and goggled at her like a pole axed steer. Not that she had doubted the potency of the spell, but it was nice to have proof positive. By the weekend, Tamara would be eating out of her pants.

And she would be, mmmm, eating out of Tamara’s.

Tamara’s shower turned on. Cindy stretched, rolled over, and swung her feet off of the bed. Time to get some food. It would be dark, soon, and she had some preparation to do before chatting with Balphagor tonight.

Balphagor. A devil with the keys to her mind. Her smile returned. Having the keys was not the same as knowing how to drive the car. And she had her own agenda, didn’t she? Cindy frowned at that, but then she thought of the look on Tamara’s face.

She hopped off the bed, and laughed out loud. God! She felt so alive! The risk was almost better than the sex.

Almost.

And both thrills were to be had again tonight, in the basement of Rowley Hall.

“Awaken.”

Her eyes popped open.

The room was dark. Next to the bed, on the little nightstand, the digital clock read 1:34. Bethany’s breathing from the other side of the room was soft and even. A little breeze made the edge of the gauzy drapes dance, where the window had been left open.

Maryanne was in her nightgown. She was fully and suddenly awake, and slowly began to look around the room to find what had woken her up. Outside, some distance away, a police siren wailed.

“Come to me.”

Maryanne started. She opened her mouth, which was suddenly dry, and moistened her lips.

“Hello?” she said in a soft voice.

“Do not speak. Come to me.”

The voice was in her head. Understanding that, she recognized it.

“Master?”

“It is time. Come to me, my Pet.”

Bethany rolled over in her bed, the slats creaking. Maryanne held still, hoping that her roommate had not woken up, not heard her. Bethany’s even breathing resumed.

“Master. Where are you?” she asked, under her breath.

“Can you not feel me, my Pet?”

It was a command. Maryanne concentrated, calmed herself and felt for his presence. Yes—there.

“I can feel you, Master.”

“Then come. Come to me.”

Quietly, stealthily, Maryanne found her overcoat and a pair of flip-flops. If anyone saw her, they would wonder whether she was a flasher, but opening her drawers to get better clothes would quite possibly wake Bethany. And she was not about to explain her Master to Bethany.

She opened the door just enough, and slipped out.

The pipes clanged a bit as the library settled.

This basement room was sealed with charms, now, to prevent idle discovery. Cindy had drawn them on the walls and the ceiling in bitumen and pitch, allowing her to avoid the labor of hiding her summoning circle, implements, and the bits of furniture she had dragged there, every time she left. Now no one could see that corner of the room, and any passers-by would be unconsciously encouraged to go elsewhere. Not that there were any passers-by, but had there been, they might have wondered about the furniture.

Such as the chair in which Cindy was now lounging, facing the coal-black figure standing in the pentagram in front of her.

Balphagor had chosen to incarnate in his male aspect this evening, muscular and tall. Cindy felt that he rather looked liked Michelangelo’s David, had Michelangelo used black marble. He seemed distracted.

Before she could remark upon it, his red eyes turned to her.

“My Mistress.”

“Balphy. How have you been?”

“I have been well, my Mistress. What do you desire of me this evening?”

“Well, I have a laundry list, Balphy. I wish to learn the fourth and eighth spells of the Hagad’rim. I want you to retrieve for me Jannalius’ text on occult works. And I want some aphasic resin for my charms.”

“And has your co-habitant been susceptible to them?”

“Very.”

Balphagor rumbled, somewhere in his chest.

“Most gratifying. Is that all that you wish?”

Cindy ran a hand through her hair.

“Oh, and one other thing. I want you to fuck me some.”

“But of course.”

“So, how many minutes would you like for all this, Balphy?”

There was an odd moment as Balphagor closed his eyes, apparently in thought. It was as though two fires just winked out. Then he looked at her again.

“These are many things, my Mistress. Perhaps, were you to ask them of me one night at a time...”

“Ah, Balphy, but then I’d have to pay for them each time. No, let’s keep this as a lump sum sort of agreement. What do you ask?”

“Six hours. And a skein of human blood, in exchange for the book.”

“Four. And a pint of blood, deliverable within the week.”

“My Mistress, how much is a ‘pint’?”

Cindy gestured with her hands, indicating an area of space.

“Very well. Four, and one of these ‘pints’ of blood.”

“Agreed.” Cindy settled herself in the chair. “I’m ready.”

“Ah, my Mistress?”

“Yes, Balphy?”

“I would ask your permission for something.”

“Shoot.”

“I have found that your circle prevents me from using my abilities as I am accustomed to. Might you be so gracious as to allow me some small magics? You must know I cannot hurt you.”

Cindy smiled. “Well, let me thi- No. Absolutely not. Balphagor, do you think I am an idiot? If I allowed you to cast spells, you’d have me mindfucked into your eager slave faster than I could say ‘Topeka’. No, no spells are coming out of that circle. You are going to have to go about this the hard way.”

“I see.”

“I don’t blame you for trying, though.”

Balphagor smiled, revealing white teeth in stark contrast to his lips.

“Then let us begin. My Mistress, if you would not object to disrobing?”

“Take my clothes off? Why ever for? The fucking comes after you have your time in my head.”

“Perhaps it does, perhaps it does. But I find it, more interesting, if I can see all of you, while we are speaking of true things.”

Cindy looked at Balphagor levelly. He could easily have her strip once she was under. Why now?

Then she smiled. It was a game, wasn’t it? She got her points, and now she had to give him his. She stood up and began to unbutton her shirt.

“Of course, Balphy. Why should I make you waste valuable hypnosis time?”

She tossed her shirt over the back of the chair. It was followed by her skirt, her bra, her panties. Soon she was sitting naked in the chair, save for her socks.

“And do you want the socks too, my Lord?” Cindy cocked an eyebrow.

She could have sworn that Balphagor drew in a startled breath in the pause before he answered.

“No, my Mistress, this should be fine. Are you ready?”

“You can take me whenever you like, Balphy.”

“Good. Then sleep...”

The elevator door slid open without the usual accompanying chime, which was odd enough that Maryanne noticed even through the thick pulsing of his presence. He was very, very close now.

She stepped out of the elevator into a large, low-ceilinged room. It was difficult to tell just how large it was, for it was filled with bookshelves, and had thick support columns and walls which stood at strange angles. Maryanne cleared her mind, and felt for him again. There.

It looked like an empty corner, with a few dozen bare metal bookshelves, but he was there, pulling at her, and although she didn’t see anything, she walked slowly and softly towards the rear wall.

She almost walked right into a lectern. Maryanne blinked—she was certain it hadn’t been there four paces ago. There was a book on it, hand written in a spidery hand with very black ink. And a pendant, and some pencils, and... Maryanne looked up.

He was there.

So beautiful. He was smiling, looking back at her. He looked like Adonis, like a Greek statue come to glorious life. His skin was an incredible onyx black, shining in the dim light of the room. And his eyes...

“Maryanne.”

“Ma.” She swallowed. “Master.”

“Yes, Maryanne. It is I.”

She stepped around the podium, eager to embrace him, to be as with him as possible.

“Stop.” He held up a warning hand, palm out. “Do not approach me.”

Maryanne stopped. Next to her was a naked girl, sprawled in an easy chair. One of her hands was slowly, absently massaging her pussy. Her eyes were open, but out of focus, her head tilted towards the floor.

Balphagor smiled. “She is mine, too.” He gestured. “Kneel, my slave.”

Maryanne got down on her knees.

“My slave, this woman in the chair summons me using that book, on the pedestal. When I wish to speak to you, you must summon me using the book as well.”

“Yes, my Master.”

“But I do not wish this woman to know about you. Thus you must be cautious, and summon me only when she is not around. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my Master.”

“Very good. Such a time will be tomorrow night. You will come here at midnight, and summon me. And you will bring me something.”

“What must I bring you, my Master?”

“A friend. You are to choose one of the most attractive of your friends, and bring her here to me. You will tell her that you are going to summon a spirit, and ask her to come and watch. Neither she nor you must tell anyone else. Then you will come here, and read from the book.”

“I shall do so.”

“Yes, you shall. Now, you are to read the book, and master the spell of summoning. I am going to continue my work with this one, here.”

“Yes, my Master”. Maryanne rose to her feet. She turned to return to the lectern, and the book, but stopped.

Balphagor was once more concentrating on the masturbating woman. He began to speak to her in a low voice.

“Your goals are small, and mortal, aren’t they, Cindy?”

The nude redhead replied sleepily: “Yes... small...”

“And mine are large and eternal, which makes them much more important, doesn’t it?”

“Yes... yours are... much more important....”

“Then my goals are more important than your goals, aren’t they?”

“Yes... your goals... are much more important... than my goals...”

“Good. Stroke yourself a little faster, Cindy.”

The redhead’s hand picked up speed, as did her breathing.

“Now, Cindy, slide a finger inside yourself.” She complied, emitting a soft purr. “Good. Now slide it out, and listen.

My goals are more important than your goals. Slide your finger in.

I am more important than you. Slide it out.

You must change your goals to reflect mine. In.

You should start to doubt your goals. Out.

You will start to doubt your goals. In.

You will bend your goals to become my goals. Out.

Now, repeat the following, and each time you finish a sentence, slide your finger in or out. My goals are unimportant. Balphagor’s goals are much more important than mine. I must change my goals into Balphagor’s goals.”

“My goals are unimportant,” Cindy began, sliding her finger in.

“Balphagor’s goals are much more important than mine.

I must change my goals into Balphagor’s goals.

My goals are unimportant...”

Balphagor turned his head quickly, and Maryanne realized that she had been watching instead of obeying. She flushed with shame—and fear of his anger.

“Slave, why are you not learning the spell?”

“Ma, Master—I wanted to kn, know...”

“Know what, slave?”

“When you would take me—take me and make me yours.”

The black figure smiled.

“Soon, my Slave. But first there are things you must do for me. You must learn the spell, so that you may invoke me to meet your prettiest friend. Bring her to me tomorrow.” His voice took on a different tone. “I am not angry with you now—but do not fail me.”

Maryanne was stung. “I shall not fail you, Master!” Ignoring the redhead, who was mumbling softly to herself, Maryanne scurried to the book. She turned the to first page, and began to read.

Although she usually burst into the room, today Tamara turned her key in the lock quietly. She’d had a chance to think about what had happened the other day, and it all seemed like things would get way too complicated way too quickly. So, she’d been sneaking in and out, these last several days, hoping not to bump into her suitemate.

She opened the door, and scanned the common room. No one home. Cindy’s door was closed, although that could have meant anything. Tamara closed the front door, and tip-toed over to her room.

It was a Friday night, and Tamara quickly shimmied out of her workout clothes, and hopped in the shower. The hot water felt great—one of the nice things about this place was the constant supply of hot water. Some of her friends in Holborn Hall up on the hill had to shower before eight AM to be sure of getting any. Here, it was always nice and toasty. By the time she got out of the shower, she was singing.

“Ain’t no body dope like me—I dress so fresh and clean!”

Tamara paused as she dried off to look at herself in the mirror. Damn, she looked good. Women were just so sexy, and she was the sex queen of them all. She posed for herself, and then chuckled. Flexing her arms, she turned in the one-quarter pose to show off her hard abs. So sexy. Of course, women with smooth, curving stomachs were nice, too...

She realized she was thinking about Cindy.

“Okay, girl, pull yourself together. I know she’s hot, but that sort of thing always leads to trouble. Just cool your jets.”

In her room, she found her black bra and panties, and then slipped on her slinky black dress. Some of the girls at Delta Phi were going clubbing, and had invited her along. She checked the clock—it was only seven. Plenty of time to stroll on up to their house.

She finished doing her makeup in the bathroom, and grabbed her favorite bead choker. Nothing quite as hot as a long-necked girl with a choker on. She made several come-on expressions at herself in the mirror, giggled, and headed for the door.

Cindy was in the common room, lounging in a chair.

Tamara froze.

“Hi, Tamara. You look great.”

“Th- thanks, Cindy. Uh, hi. So do you.”

Cindy laughed. “Well, thanks. I’m not the one who is all dressed up, though. Were you going out tonight?”

Tamara’s head bobbed, slowly. “Uhm, yeah. Clubbing.”

“Well, you look super sexy. That dress just clings to your body. It’s a good thing you’ve got such a sexy body to wear it on.”

Wow. Was that a pass? Cindy had never—or had she? Tamara realized she wasn’t sure. And Cindy was so incredibly beautiful...

“And that choker. That’s just the right touch.” Cindy stood up. “It whispers ‘Bad Girl’ just perfectly.”

Oh. Cindy was walking towards her. Part of her wanted to bolt out the door, part of her wanted to mash her body into Cindy’s. So she just stood there, frozen like a rabbit as the wolf walked up.

“Isn’t it tight, though?” asked Cindy. Tamara could smell her skin.

“Um, no, it’s okay.”

“It looks so tight on you.” Cindy reached out with an extended finger, and slid it up under the choker. “Oh, I guess you are right. That’s not too tight at all.” She paused, her finger on Tamara’s neck.

“Why, Tamara. You’re shivering.”

Tamara was caught. Cindy’s finger under her choker, against her neck, was like an iron collar holding her down. She knew her cheeks had gone all red—she could feel them burning. But all she could do was stare into Cindy’s eyes.

Slowly, Cindy pulled her in.

Tamara went with the choker, taking tiny steps forward until she was only a handbreadth away from Cindy. Their breath mixed—Cindy’s deep and even, Tamara’s rapid and fluttering.

Then Cindy pulled her in some more, and they kissed.

It was soft, and sweet, and set off fireworks up and down Tamara’s body. It lasted a long time.

Then Cindy pushed Tamara back, still with the finger under her choker.

“Tammy. Will you make love with me?”

Tamara stared at her. She was so beautiful.

“Ye-yeah. Oh God, Cindy, Yes. Please, Yes.” Tamara babbled out her need, her lust for this so beautiful woman.

Cindy smiled, and drew her back in for another kiss.