The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

carl

Slowly, like an Arctic dawn, consciousness seeped back into Carl’s addled brain. He opened his eyes, but it required too much effort to keep them open; they kept drifting shut. He felt weak, as if suffering from a high fever. That would explain the wild delusions he half remembered. Light fell through the window at a sharp angle, indicating mid-day. Carl was rather proud of himself for this deduction. He must have been unconscious—it didn’t feel like mere sleep—for many hours, or could it be days? He wasn’t strong enough to lift his head, but he could roll it from side to side to gain some idea of his surroundings.

The bed on which he was lying was in a rather sumptuous room. Heavy curtains framed the windows; dark wood furniture, cabinets and chests, lined the panelled walls. That seemed to rule out a hospital and injury in an accident. He had been driving last night ... well, the last he remembered ... in the pouring rain, right? Yes, he remembered, driving in a storm when his car broke down. He struggled to remember more: the large dark house on the hill: a woman with dark hair and eyes. He had felt warm, safe from the cold and wet, and then ... so sleepy. The memory lulled him, and he closed his eyes and slept again.

Carl awoke with a start. Sweat stood out on his brow, and his wounded shoulder throbbed in pain. With difficulty, he raised his head and looked around. White walls; a dresser; a curtained window; two doors, one opposite the window, the other facing his bed. A hospital room, then, not the strange dark place in which he had awakened before. A dream? A memory? He couldn’t tell.

His room was dimly lit. From outside the half-closed door came sounds which seemed reassuringly familiar: persons talking in hushed voices; footsteps going back and forth; the muffled pinging and buzzing speech of a public address system: “Dr. Harker, report to Room 10. Dr. Harker to Room 10, please.” Yes, he concluded, definitely a hospital. Oddly relieved, he drifted back to sleep.

Carl opened his eyes, and saw a tray beside the bed, with what looked like the remains of soup in a bowl and an empty glass. He realized he was sitting up ... in the large bed in the dark panelled room. Morning light entered the window and spilled across the plushly carpeted floor. It was the same room, but it looked subtly different, as if it had been tidied up while he slept. A hint of perfume hung in the air. The scent immediately reminded him of the woman. The associations made him feel warm and sleepy and ... horny. God! Just the thought of her brought a rush of arousal, she was so sexy! He blushed. Where had that thought come from? And with the arousal, a twinge of fear and anger. What had she done to him to make him feel angry and afraid? He remembered her smile, the cleft of her breasts, the thin satin gown that clung to her voluptuous body. He remembered trying politely not to look ... but she had wanted him to look, had urged him to look. Her smile ... her eyes ... she had made him look .... It was so confusing, and thinking was difficult.... Where was he? Who was she? With a stab of fear he realized that the real question at the back of his mind was, ‘Who was he?’

Carl woke again with a cry. “I’m Carl Williams! Dammit, I’m me!” He stopped, feeling foolish. He was sitting up in the hospital bed, drenched with sweat. He felt an urgent need to urinate, so he threw off the covers and started to get out of bed. The door opened as he was steadying himself on the bedframe.

“What are you doing up, Mr. Williams?” The nurse standing in the doorway looked vaguely familiar. Tall. Sturdy. Wisps of curly red hair escaping from under her cap. She turned on the light and hurried over to take his good arm. Her name tag read “Kathy.” “You should be in bed,” she admonished.

“I need to use the bathroom,” Carl protested, indicating the door facing his bed with a gesture.

“You can use the bedpan,” she suggested.

He grimaced. “I’d rather use the toilet, if it’s all the same to you. I’m not crippled!”

“You’ve lost a lot of blood, Mr. Williams,” she said dubiously. You need to rest, regain your strength.”

“Then help me to the door,” he demanded. He couldn’t say why, but it was terribly important to him to do this, to do everything his own way. Kathy frowned, but assisted him to the bathroom. At the door, he shrugged off her arm, and went in by himself, and did what he had to do. When he came back out, he felt exhausted, as if he had expended great physical effort. He willingly allowed her to help him back to bed. Once in bed, he quickly fell back into a deep slumber.

He opened his eyes and turned his head, and saw a different plate in the tray. He was wearing different pajamas, too. He felt refreshed, as if he had been bathed. The perfume was stronger. He felt stronger, and tried to get out of bed. He made it to the side, and sat on the edge of the mattress. His head was swimming with vertigo, and he rested there for a minute, elbows on his knees, face in his hands. His feet, he noted, barely reached the floor.

“You are awake.” It was neither a question nor a comment. It sounded almost like a command. He raised his head and turned towards the voice. There by the foot of the bed stood the woman he remembered. Her sable hair was put up on her head. She wore a sheer black negligee entirely open down the front. Under it, she wore only a pair of black satin thong panties, edged with ruffles. She was stunning, and he responded accordingly. Her name flooded his mind: Lilith. He could remember nothing else. Deep in his brain, a protest stirred, a warning: No, not again, don’t look, don’t ...It faded, overwhelmed by the immediate presence of her.

She moved to the side of the bed, to stand in front of him. She placed her hands on his shoulders, passed her thumbs across his cheeks, raising her fingers to the sides of his neck. She paused, pressing her thumbs against his temples, holding his head still as she gazed into his eyes. For a while she said nothing, just stared into his eyes while she stroked his face with her long cool fingers. Then she ran her hands down his arms and took his hands. She smiled slightly, as if at a private triumph. He couldn’t think; his mind seemed to be falling into her deep dark eyes. “Come,” she said, drawing him off the bed. Walking backwards, she led him towards a corner of the room he had not been able to see before. A frame stood there, something like a giant “H”, in front of a floor to ceiling mirror. Leather cuffs dangled from the frame, high over a man’s height. In the back of his mind, some basic core of his personality began to wail in warning and dismay, but his body obediently, even eagerly followed her lead.

She brought him to the frame, facing the mirror. She took his right hand and lifted it up above his head, buckling the leather cuff around his wrist. It was padded and lined with soft, smooth leather: comfortable, almost sensuous around his wrist, but now he could not move his right arm. She reached and took his left hand, and finally some small fraction of that inner protest made its way to the surface. “Lilith,” he just managed to whisper, “You don’t have to do this...”

She turned to him, her face inches from his own. Her scent enveloped him. She smiled into his eyes. “Was that a ‘no’?” she inquired sweetly. He could feel the warmth of her body, so close to his. Words failed him; his weak protest died, overcome by the sensations of her. She lifted his left arm and finished fastening him to the frame. He was helpless now, as physically bound as he had been mentally restrained from the moment he saw her.

rend=“italics”>She began to walk around him, from right to left. The phrase ‘widdershins’ popped into his mind. Homer had told him that was the direction witches circled to cast their spells. Homer? Who was Homer? His mind circled the question warily, like a cat around a strange object. He didn’t know a Homer now, while this was happening, did he? But he would. Was this a memory then? It seemed real, as if it were occurring in the present. A dream?

At the thought, he struggled to awareness. For a moment, he could see both the hospital room and the mirror reflecting that frame in the wood paneled bedroom, and himself shackled to it, with Lilith circling him slowly, her hands trailing around his body. He seemed even to sense her perfume, then the vision and the scent faded. He cried out, partly in fear, partly in relief, yet partly in despair and loss.

“Mr. Williams?” The nurse at the door was different this time. Forty-ish, blond, with a pleasant square face. Seeing that he was awake, she crossed to open the curtains. Morning sunlight streamed in. She came to the side of his bed. “Are you feeling better?” Her name tag read “Janet.”

“Yes, thank you, " Carl replied. His memories came flooding back. His enthrallment to Lilith, still only half seen, as through thick veils; his rescue; the fight at the house, and later at the airport; the Sheriff shooting him... He winced, and felt his left shoulder with his right hand. The bandages were bulky, but not stiff or sticky with blood. The flesh beneath was sore and tender, but it had the feel of healing. He winced again at the pain his probing fingers brought.

“Mr. Williams!” Janet admonished him, snatching his hand away from the wound. “Would you like some breakfast?” she asked in a gentler tone. At his nod, she smiled. “Good. And Dr. Harker would like to talk to you when you are done.”

A silent attendant brought a tray. The food was better than the reputation of institutional food would have led him to expect. When he had finished, he went to the lavatory to wash up. For the first time, he caught a clear look at his face in the full light of day. He was stunned! The reflection that looked back at him showed a man who looked ten years older than he knew he was. And to judge by the lines and the traces of gray in his hair, they would have been rough years, too. Shaken, he emerged from the bathroom to find that the attendant had removed the tray. Instead, a tall, lean man was waiting for him. Carl recognized the leader of one of the factions of the people who had rescued him, the one who had been with his father.

“Good morning, Mr. Williams, " said Leonard Harker. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Carl replied, “At least as well as could be expected. My father?”

“Is well, and anxious to see you,” Harker told him. “I am sorry, but I had to tell him to wait until I examined you first. You had a restless night.”

“Yes,” Carl confirmed thoughtfully. “And more than one since that night on the mountain, I think.” He walked over and sat on the bed. “How long have I been here? What date is it, anyway?”

“You have been here over a week, but last night was the first time we took you off sedatives. Your physical injuries are healing nicely. You are a strong young man, and a very fortunate one. Had that bullet struck even an inch in the wrong direction, and your situation would not have been so happy.” Harker paused, looking grave. “I am more concerned with your mental condition. You have been through an experience which might well have driven you mad. Has driven others into despair, melancholy, obsession. So when I ask you how you are feeling, and whether you spent a restless night, I am not just making polite conversation. And by the by, it is the 11th of December, since you ask.”

“December 11!” Carl exclaimed. “That’s ...” He paused to calculate. “Six weeks! Only six weeks! I looked at myself in the mirror while I was washing my face, and I almost wouldn’t have recognized myself, I looked so old and ... worn out, used up. What did that woman do to me?”

“We were hoping you could tell us, " Harker commented dryly. “Now look here, I wasn’t going to go into this with you so soon, because I wanted you to rest and get back your strength first. But your father insists on taking you home as soon as you are fit to travel, and I have a clinic full of Lilith Preston’s victims to care for and, one hopes, help recover from their ordeal. So any information you can give us will be greatly appreciated.”

“I thought ...,” Carl began. “I don’t know what I thought! Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful you got me out of there but ... Who are you guys?”

“Ah. That is a long story,” the older man replied. Briefly he outlined how Carl’s father, George Williams, had hired the Foster law firm to investigate his disappearance; how it happened that his organization had been investigating a series of disappearances in the same area, suspecting a Vampire. This entailed a brief digression to explain the nature of Harker’s group, and the work they did. Finally, Harker recounted how he had joined forces with the Fosters to rescue Carl and Mara Foster, their sister and chief investigator.

“Vampire hunters!” Carl exclaimed. “You’ve got to be kidding! Besides, Lilith wasn’t a ...” His voice trailed off. What was Lilith? Doubt welled up from the most primitive parts of his mind. She had drained him of something, somehow... He raised his hand to his throat, but there were no wounds or scars there. He shuddered, thinking of the way his will had dissolved in the dark depths of her eyes and the sensual pleasure of her presense.

“No, Lilith wasn’t a vampire,” agreed Harker. “At least, not the traditional, blood-sucking undead of Eastern European legend, and Hollywood movies. Although, I can assure you from personal experience, the existence of such is no joke, but very real. We had thought she was a succubus, a kind of sexual, psychic vampire, who drains men’s vital energies through sexual intercourse, but ....”

“Wait!” Carl interrupted. “I remember ... she said something about ...” He sifted through his fuzzy impressions of the night he had met her ... the way she had come on to him ... the way she had touched him .... She had said ... had said .... “She said ‘do you know what a succubus is?’ and when I answered some kind of Medieval demon, she insisted that she was a ‘natural creature’. But she called herself a succubus!”

“Yes,” Harker mused. “A natural creature indeed. True succubae are pure psychic creatures, who only imitate the outward signs of flesh and blood in order to seduce their victims. In Lilith we encountered a live, physical being who, none-the-less, used sex to feed upon the life energies of her mates. Life imitating Art, you might say,” he commented wryly. “But nowhere in my experience, and nowhere in the writings of the serious students of this field, have I ever encountered a psychic vampire of this sort with such powerful mind control powers.”

“I thought Dracula ...” Carl objected.

“Only the fictional character,” dismissed Harker. “The real model for Stoker’s vampire did not have quite the powers of his literary counterpart, nor of the more modern variations on the theme. I know that the children who run around pretending to be ‘vampyres’ have incorporated the concept of the psychic enslavement of the vampyre’s victims into their mythos, but this is a modern fiction. I have never encountered a vampire, psychic vampire, or succubus with mind control powers beyond the ability to immobilise their prey long enough for the feeding. But Lilith could and did enthrall a very large number of persons, not all of whom she fed off of, and some of whom she kept in her service for a very long time. To their terrible psychological harm, I might add. We need to know how she did it. First, so we can undo it, second so we can prevent its happening in the future.”

“What do you want from me?” Carl asked. “What can I tell you? I can hardly remember anything myself.”

“Let’s begin with whatever disturbed your sleep last night,” Harker suggested. “Tell me what woke you.”

Carl recounted his dreams, in as great detail as he could recall, and added some fragments of memory that the dreams brought to mind, answering Harker’s questions as best he could. Finally he ran down. “... and as I realized that at the time Lilith tied me to the frame, I hadn’t met Homer yet, I knew it must be a dream.”

“And what happened next?”

“I woke up, and ate breakfast.”

“No, I mean what did Lilith do to you after she strapped you to that frame in front of the mirror?”

“Nothing! It was a dream and I woke up!”

“You said that you knew it was only a dream, because you remembered something Homer had told you, but at the time she cuffed you to the frame, you hadn’t met Homer yet,” Harker reminded him. “That means you recognized this dream as a memory of an actual event. So, what happened next?”

“I can’t recall,” Carl replied, his expression of distress and the sweat standing out on his forehead belying his words. “I remember Homer. What happened to him? Is he all right?”

“Homer is a patient here, and his condition is very grave,” Harker replied solemnly. “What you can tell us of the methods this woman used may enable us to help him. So, what did she do once she had fastened you to the frame?”

Memories rose in Carl’s consciousness like dead things floating up through the dark waters of a stagnant pond to lie upon the surface. Reluctantly, he contemplated these images. He knew that if he did not, they would retain their morbid hold on his imagination. She would retain her hold on his thoughts and feelings.

“After she strapped my left hand into the leather cuff,” he began, “she walked around me, counter-clockwise—or widdershins Homer would describe it. She ran her fingers over my shoulders and chest, then around my side. She stopped behind me and stroked my back, then ran her hands up my sides. She must have done something to the seams of the pajama shirt, because when she grabbed it by the collar and pulled, it just fell right off.”

“She began to caress my bare back, and moved up real close. I could feel her breath on the back of my neck, the warmth of her body so near my back, even the almost imperceptible whisper of her silk robe against my skin. Once more she began to circle me, tracing her fingertips along my skin. I heard her say, ‘I have you exactly where I want you now. I can do anything I want to you.’”

“She stopped in front of me,” Carl continued, “and looked me in the eyes as she ran her hands slowly all over my arms, my face, my chest, my sides, down to my hips...” Carl choked, his voice thick with emotion. As the memories came back to him, a chill ran down his spine, but a warmth began in his loins as well.

“You described the frame as being shaped like an ‘H’,” Harker interrupted mercifully. “Where, exactly was the cross-bar?”

“It came right against my thighs,” Carl answered. “Just below the level of my crotch.”

“I see,” said Harker, giving Carl time to regain his composure. “Sorry for the interruption. Please continue.”

“After a few seconds,” Carl resumed, “she started walking around me again, stroking and caressing my body, and talking to me very softly. ‘I can do anything to you,’ she said. ‘I can give you such pleasure as you have never felt before...’ By this time she was behind me again, and she stepped right up against me. I could feel her breath in my left ear, her breasts pressed lightly on my back, the ruffles on her panties brushing against my buttocks. She slid her hands around my sides to my chest, and then whispered in my right ear, ‘...or I can give you pain...,’ and she pinched my nipples—hard! I gasped, and let out a moan. That really hurt! While I was still frozen, grimacing in pain, with my eyes shut and my teeth bared, she slid her hands into the waistband of the pajama pants and with one motion pulled them down around my ankles. Then she slowly stood, raking her fingernails up the outside of my legs, the backs of my legs, up the insides of my thighs, over my buttocks, then around my right side, as she continued to circle me. And while she did, she murmured, ‘But I don’t want to hurt you ... just control you...’ ”

Carl swallowed hard. “She came around in front of my face again, and grabbed my hair and forced my head back, so I had to look into her eyes. ‘I so enjoy controlling you,’ she said. ‘It gets me all hot and wet.’ She let go of my hair and slid her hand down the back of my head to the nape of my neck. Then as she she kept walking around me to my left, she drew it across my shoulder, then down and across my chest, gently rubbing my sore nipples with a circular motion. ‘And I do control you, carl,’ she murmured. ‘You cannot resist ... I have you completely bound.’ She stopped behind me and put her face over my left shoulder, so it was reflected in the mirror. Again she ran her hands over my back, then around my sides to my chest and belly, caressing me lightly with her fingertips. I could feel her lightly pressing her body against mine, moving it slightly, gently against my back and buttocks, in time to her speech.”

“She spoke quietly into my ear, ‘Look at yourself in the mirror, carl. See how I have you in bondage? You cannot move.’ She moved her face to look over my right shoulder. ‘You are completely helpless, totally powerless to resist whatever I want to do to you. I control you completely.’ I could see myself from head to toe, stretched out on that frame, my hands bound over my head in those leather cuffs, my ankles pinioned by my pants down around them. Lilith’s face appeared to float over my right shoulder, her eyes holding mine. All I could feel was her body behind me and her hands on the front of my torso. She began to move again, circling around my right side, coming around in front of me while trailing her hands across my back and sides. ‘Completely in my control,’ she crooned. ‘Completely helpless and powerless ... I like to have you like this ... helpless and powerless ... it pleases me ...’ Then she was standing in front of me again, staring into my eyes and stroking all up and down my arms, and face and body. ‘It excites me, arouses me, carl, to have you like this ... helpless and powerless ... You want to please me, do you not?’ At this question, I could only nod. ‘Do you know what would please me even more, carl?’ she whispered. ‘It would please me if you voluntarily surrendered to my control. I will have you in my control, anyway. I do have you completely in my control. You are powerless to resist.’ While her right hand continued to stroke my face, her left hand moved lower and lower. ‘So powerless and helpless ... unable to resist anything I do to you ... unable to resist my commands...’ Her fingers touched my cock, and began to play along its length. ‘Surrender to my control,’ she whispered. ‘Surrender to the pleasure I bring you ...’ She gripped my penis in her hand ...” Carl paused. Tears were streaming down his face.

“Do go on,” said Dr. Harker dryly, clinically.

“That’s all I remember,” Carl sighed. He shivered. “Everything is sort of blank after that. What the Hell did she do to me?”

“It sounds as if she mesmerized you,” Harker speculated thoughtfully. “Although that old reprobate Franz Anton might not have recognized the way she used the technique. And of course she included those strong elements of Dominance and submission, consistent with her purpose of reducing you to dependence on her. Plus there is the highly erotic element, which she has blended very neatly with the mesmerism and the Domination, to arouse you to a state in which you would be very nearly mindless and compliant in any case. I think we can safely assume that this was one of the times that she fed on you.”

“Fed on me? How could she do that?” Carl objected.

“Oh, you know that better than I could explain,” Harker reminded him. “Last week, when we rescued you, you were very aware of what was happening to you. Your mind has simply rejected the memory of the experience as being too threatening. What she did, what you must eventually admit to yourself that you allowed her to do, is just too frightening for you to accept right now,” Harker said gently. “It threatens your very core of identity, Autonomy, and independence. But it will come back to you, and you will realize that in the end, you won, not she.”

Harker gazed at some memory or vision only he could see, almost forgetting Carl Williams in the room with him. “Bryan Foster paraphrased Nietzsche in reference to his sister Mara, ‘that which does not kill us, had better be able to run away very fast!’ I wonder if Lilith will be able to run fast and far enough?” He shook his head, bringing himself back to the present. “I think that is enough for the present. Would you like to see your father, now?”