The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

There was a part of herself, a voice within the dream that struggled, always, to be heard. It was the waking self, the Eye beyond the dream, watching... helpless... while Fate became an oracle of shapes and forms.

It called out, as if to spark a reminder of important things. A name. A cause.

An Order to worship and serve.

A city of Lights and beauty.

All hers to seduce.

Feminine shapes floated on the edge of her mind, the touch of their ethereal fingers alive against her skin. She made soft sighs as her Eye drifted shut and surrendered to the dream.

Danielle was standing in a Hall of Mirrors, stretching into infinity, front and behind. The sky loomed beyond the trembling skylight above, black fractured by currents of electric blue, throwing nightmarish shadows that splintered around her in a thousand reflections.

She smiled through the pulsing flickers, and the candlelight that shivered between the moments. She found her likeness smiling back, outlined against a darkness that sought to swallow her. She listened to its rhythm, mingling with the hushed song of the winds above, while the air around her filled with succulent reverence.

Her petite frame, narrow hips and slender shoulders were frozen in an alluring pose, combining into a figure of enticing proportions. The graceful shape of her lips effortlessly captured her attention, leading her to follow the curve of her round chin, up her well-defined, elegant jaw-line, past her smooth cheeks, and into shining emerald.

Her own eyes swallowed her as the lightning throbbed far into the sky, engulfing the sight of her, dressed in the leather collar that slipped tightly around her neck. It throbbed warmly against her skin, stretching only to allow the gentle flow of her breath.

She raised a slow finger to her lips, biting it gently. The reflection echoed the gesture, grinning coyly when the finger snaked back down, to trace along her soft curves. The dark around her enjoyed her play, and surrounded her with moans of lustful approval. Her eyes floated shut as the warm shivers coursed through her, and she drank deeply of the wonderful urges that began to surge in her mind.

She flexed her legs, delicate pleasure aching in her spreading thighs as she knelt. The collar tightened as she reached the cold marble of the floor to settle into her rightful position, but she barely noticed, absorbed by the mirrored play of her long crimson nails on her left nipple. She watched it grow hard and hot, casting a lovely nub of shadow on the underside of her breast whenever the sky flashed angrily overhead.

She teased the other one with equal care, her breasts growing delighted with the attention. Then she watched, fascinated, as the reflection slowly began to slide its hand down. Arousal flared inside her cunt as she felt herself mimicking the lewd motion, loosing herself... becoming the reflection.

She was so pretty... kneeling... collared...

Sharp currents shrilled up her spine as her fingers kissed the heavenly curve of her mons, feeling the outline of her well trimmed bush. She became adventurous in the shadows, probing intricately between her legs. The leather tightened still under her quickening breath, snapshots of the depraved motions flashing between distant, thunderous roars, in sync with her own delicious travail.

The darkness moaned again, inflamed as the beauties leaned back on the floor, spreading their knees wide, letting it consume the sight of their cunts, flushed and wet.

She caught her breath between stolen glimpses in the mirror, and the indulgence of her probing delight, the sky spilling raw incandescence inside the Hall, making her fingers glisten as they penetrated her lips. Cum-pleasure soaked her cleft, her fingers dipping succulently into her snatch as she beheld a new figure, looming suddenly inside the reflection.

Her Eye flashed open in surprise.

Danielle’s waking self stirred to the sight of Corrine.

She remembered the teaching of lessons. The learning of the Sacred Ways.

She remembered how she had been taught the name, how she had learned to pronounce it, with loving reverence, letting her tongue form it slowly while her teacher-to-be made her part of a New world... made her part of the Order...

She remembered the soft cries of the females she corrupted into Sapphic sluts. She remembered the way her arousal flared magnificently while Corrine watched her.

A single leather band now adorned her lovely neck.

Danielle smiled in recognition of her own collar, and let her fingers dance as she focused on the pleasure Corrine obviously felt in wearing it.

Colors were splashed across her teacher’s skin, painted in sensual strokes on her body. Crimson and bright yellow mingled along the orbs of her naked breasts, while fields of green and azure cascaded down her abdomen.

The paint was fresh, glistening like the aching wetness of her cunt.

Corrine. Subservient Corrine—

Sweet... obedient...

The Eye struggled to open wide, agitated by the discordance...

But—

both of them... so pretty in their tight little collars...

danielle sighed, her pussy flooding hotly.

her Eye drifted shut.

The dream owned her once again.

corrine’s fingers were twitching as they dangled on her sides, the tips stained with the swirl of colors that matched the lazy strokes they had left over her painted skin. danielle felt the urge to abandon the reflection... to turn and crawl slowly over her teacher, and ease the passion flaring between her thighs with careful licks of her tongue... she wanted to please corrine so badly... but her own fingers renewed their relentless assault, sapping the strength from her legs.

she raised her eyes instead, following the surface of the mirror as the colors flashed brighter with ever lick of lightning, until she witnessed the glory etched in corrine’s visage... a beautiful mask of limpid surrender. The woman’s lips were trembling, yielding as she bit softly into them,

danielle felt the heat slide deeper inside her cunt at the sight of her teacher’s helplessness... as thoroughly lost as a the mundane females she Graced and corrupted into Sapphic slutdom...

corrine’s words where small whispers, barely audible over the thunder. “The Voice of the Goddess speaks... it heralds... in her name... it... it serves... oh... mmm... yes... yeesssss... Goddessssss...”

corrine’s voice melted as her hands left her sides, to busy themselves in her dripping slit. her legs parted slightly, to make room for the gentle caress, while her passion mounted with every word.

“The Voice heralds... the voice is the Coming Truth... the Voice... chooses... mmm... the Voice... is... reverence and dessssstinnnny...”

The word died on her lips, in a throaty moan that flowed into the air, echoed by unseen voices who took it... repeated it adoringly. danielle found the energy to shiver in her own consuming desire, her mind realizing through the frantic, lustful haze, that corrine’s articulation of her surrender was its own, glorious reward.

More flashes devoured the sky, but failed to dispel the shadows slipping over corrine as she fingered herself, lost in an abyss of her own making. A second presence appeared, coalescing behind her, rising effortlessly like a black Wyvern, to slip a loving hand around corrine’s waist.

The glove slithered on the painted skin, the Dark Beauty’s body gliding to corrine’s side, shapely inside the tight leather corset.

danielle’s rushing breath heated her lips, her pitiful moans resounding deep inside her cunt. The Dark Beauty offered a perverse smile, caressing Her fingering slut’s trembling form. Between the globes of supple flesh glittered a silver chain, loosely connected to the pair of rings that pierced Her dark, erect nipples.

danielle’s mind swirled in the metallic sparkle, before she followed two other chains which fell from the nipple rings, shaping a gleaming v against the leather, converging upon a crotchless gash between the Dark Beauty’s legs, to link with a circlet which glittered in the shadows that lived there.

she smiled back at her beautiful Angel, while electric fire conjured strange, unknowable shapes in the ebony backdrop. she began to shift against her hand, her quaking pelvis matching the strokes of fingers to accentuate her pleasure.

The hot flames dousing her cunt were like fierce kisses, sweeter than the licking of virgin sluts learning to adore with their mouths. The Angel’s gloved hand swirled over corrine’s body as She observed danielle, the tips of Her fingers mingling the colors in gentle strokes. corrine’s eyes rolled behind her eyelids, her mind reshaped by every caress.

A naked canvas, given form through her artiste’s will.

The Angel’s hand slipped lower... tracing a warm path.

corrine’s busy hands receded back to her sides, as if urged by an unspoken command. she swooned in the Angel’s arms, falling deeper in a trance, her head arching back as the climax consumed her. she succumbed to the colored, leather-tipped fingers caressing her labia, painting it in featherlike touches before dipping in her pussy in earnest.

Enlightenment flashed in danielle’s mind, to the pulsing fire of her need... to the stroking of her fingers...

she heard corrine’s cries... her voice, chanting a name, over and over...

It slipped from her memory as her own climax dissolved the dream, and claimed her.

Awakening was warm, soft and wet.

Danielle shifted in a cocoon of white silk, her eyes drifting open and focusing on the creamy texture above her eyes. The climax ebbed hotly from her body, the sweat pooling between her breasts, her trembling limbs shifting in the sheets. She brought her eyes to an alcove on her left, and found new shapes in the unassertive floral patterns embroidered in the curtains.

She tired of it quickly, turning to walls glazed in two shades of lavender, once a cherished backdrop to the lush, antique-styled furnishings of her bedchamber, now a tiresome reminder of her confinement. She concentrated on the beating of her heart instead, while the heat continued to simmer between her legs. Her soft breath eased against the pillow as she leaned back in into it for a moment, finding what contentment she could in the warm tongue that nuzzled her tender pussy.

The moonlight seeped timidly thought the windows, drawing pale, triangular shapes on the edge of the bed. She tried to ignore its taunting lure, thinking how poor a challenge the heavens offered to the brightness of her beloved city. Despite herself, she focused on the shape of the window beyond the semi-transparent drapes, and found the nearby radiance of a myriad of colors beyond it, shining from the Trocadéro. She closed her eyes, wishing for the sight of the lithe bronze sirens of the Palais de Chaillot, bathing in fountains amber.

The call of her favored haunts, nestled along the Rive Droite, was as wicked as the tongue lapping her pussy. Her dreams, even, kept her away from her shaded hunting grounds in the Jardins des Tuileries, and the drifting reflections of the city lights, mirrored in the waters off the Quai des Bourbons.

Paris, très chère. Where were you tonight? Where was I?

She frowned momentarily, but the remnants of dream melted as the tonguing continued. She parted her legs wider, to the gentle urging of delicate hands, and sighed deeply as the lovely mane of golden-white shifted between her thighs, masking the enchanting mouth that busied itself with cleaning up her juices in the aftermath of her slumbering climax.

She couldn’t quite decide if Fabienne sought to make her dreams more pleasant... or shorter. The wonderful ministrations made it hard for her to focus on anything so unwelcome as exasperation, but she suddenly realized the squandering of her Gift would not sit well with—

Corrine.

A brief image resuscitated in her mind, the sight of her teacher, collared and painted, surprisingly vivid. Strange thoughts stirred in its wake, before vanishing on Fabienne’s lips, leaving a void that made her shiver. She fled in the rising haze of her arousal, letting it engendered the credo her teacher had imparted to her. I am of the Covenance... Daughters ascending... Speaker of the Truth...

She frowned through the warmth that was stealing her thoughts. That, and so many other things... but Gifted with the Dreamsight above all else... and yet I hardly remember the dreams anymore...

Fabienne seemed to pick up on her alarm it at once, and circled her clit like an attentive little slut, lathering Maîtresse’s pussy with moist heat.

The burden of worries faded, Danielle’s amused giggle slipping into a quiet moan as she inhaled Fabienne’s scent off the ivory pillow she shared with her. Corrine’s stern words of wisdom were engulfed in a swirl, and she could no longer think of humility. Her youth and inexperience were trivial things, really.

Yes... Gifted with the Dreamsight.

She stretched lazily, while Fabienne’s stroking became languorous an ceremonial, speaking of the uniqueness of her blessing, and thus of her rightful claim as ruling Queen over the Covenance.

Indulgence in the fanciful thoughts made her wetter still.

The ravishing blonde that serviced her seemed wholly taken with the notion, her body nestled across the low end of the bed, the olive tan of her skin rising and falling with the tempo of her strokes, her thighs clenching tightly as she fulfilled her purpose.

The heretical nature of the thought did little to trouble Danielle, and Fabienne’s passionate communion only made it a sweeter contemplation. Corrine’s look of astonishment had been the same as everyone’s, once the true extent of her Gifts had been discovered. The visions had graced her slumber since early childhood, and part of her had taken them for granted, but to everyone else who had studied the Ancient Texts, the sacred blessing was a great omen.

Twice, Danielle she had come before the Council, Corrine standing by her side, to speak with the voice of the Ancient Prophetesses, and the fire of conviction blazing in her eyes. Twice, the truth of her foretelling had been unerring and precise.

The hushed whispers of the Daughters who had witnessed it now followed her everywhere.

Belief wasn’t a matter of choice, she reflected, but of extent. At one end, the muted silence of the disputants, at the other, the adoring litany of those who had been properly taught.

She felt Fabienne’s delight filling her mind, a wave of flaring desire fed by the rapture of having been so altered, and the eagerness she felt at the thought of betraying the Ambrian heresy she had once served. Danielle sensed no coherent thought other that the images that meshed inside her slut’s mind... the picture of a dozen bodies, twisting and grinding as arousal devoured their will and made them adoring little cunts.

They drifted up from her worship like the flowery scents carried spring breeze. Danielle surrendered to the gentle flood, letting her legs drift wider as she did, and loving the feeling of helplessness that came with it.

The half-remembered reflection of her dream, and the feel of the leather against her neck, faded from her awareness, leaving succulent arousal in its wake.

Danielle sighed and wondered, what remained of the Daughter Corrine had brought to her. Perhaps a vestigial memory of what it felt to melt a woman’s will? A fleeting awareness of power and control?

She perished the thought, sinking deeper in the bed as she felt her slut’s mouth and chin, wet against her cunt. She had followed her teacher’s instructions conscientiously... and had enjoyed the early fruits of her labor too much not to take Fabienne’s enslavement farther and deeper. Nothing but sweet, devout obedience now lived in that mind.

She had Danielle to thank for it. And did. Exceedingly well.

Her hand reached gently to the soft mane that brushed between her thighs, her fingers stroking the locks of gold, playing with them as they cascaded on her hips. Fabienne, too spellbound to notice the kittenish caress, gave her tongue a reverent twirl before slipping it deeper in Danielle, the taste of her Maîtresse filling her with passion and madness.

She wished she had witnessed the defiance that had once lived in those eyes... wished she had been scorching by Fabienne’s eyes, as she breathed her last instants as a free woman.

Paris was many things. On that night, less than two weeks ago, it had been a battleground. The halls of political and economic power had grown silent, the moans of Graced executives who learned the sacred Truths of the Covenance replaced by gentle cries resounding in the ancient, narrow streets of the city, as the Daughters of the Ambrian sect that sought to impose their own agenda came to know a higher, nobler purpose.

Danielle knew little of the fabled rivals of the Covenance, other that they were a loosely organized group of rogues mostly fascinated by mystical nonsense, which permeated the rituals taught to the females—Daughters and mundanes—who fell under their influence. Of much greater importance was their value as servants, and the intoxicating delight one experienced when the slow corruption of their gifted selves yielded powerful, and eternally obedient slaves.

This, above all else, had diminished the nuisance of Danielle’s isolation, hidden inside Corrine’s, residence amid the opulent quartiers of the city’s sixteenth arrondissement, while the Council deliberated on issues of safety and strategy. The flush in Danielle’s cheeks had masked her careful stance, even as she gazed in Fabienne’s dazed eyes for the first time. What Corrine had offered her wasn’t so much a present as it was an opportunity of a useful lesson. And yet there had been the faintest trace of a smile on her lips when her pupil’s excitement gave birth to a soft sigh.

Fabienne’s tongue became bliss and surrender as it trickled in and out of her—her fire of devotion and idolatry born of Danielle’s need to please Corrine, and the knowledge that she had been molded into a slave to serve this very need. She trembled like a leaf as the succulent orgasm ravished her, shifting her head up, her hair parting to reveal the adoring eyes under it. Danielle smiled as she captured them with her own, unblinking as Fabienne emerged from between her legs like a siren, mouth and chin glistening, her breath warm on her slit.

She succumbed to her powerful gaze, sliding against the bed as the touch of Maîtresse’s will snaked inside her... her eyes could not drift shut as the climax drenched the already moist silk sheets under her quivering hips, so she leaned forward, unspoken prayers slipping off her lips as she kissed Danielle’s cunt, melting it with exquisite, loving grace.

Thank you Goddess Thank you let me be your slut forever Goddess let me worship always slut cum lick oh Goddess please cum let me taste you make you cum on my tongue cum—

Danielle’s body exploded as the flow of yearning traveled within her, her mind reeling with the taste of mindless, complete adoration. She broke eye contact, reeling as the thoughts filled her mind.

Fabienne didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop... far too possessed... consumed... eager for her passion to sink their intertwined bodies in a dark abyss... and thinking of the dark Angel that ruled far inside it.

The meditation room was a feast for the eyes. The plush carpet was intricately pattern in cream and brown, stretching across the surface of the floor, to the rising walls paneled in English oak. Impressionist landscapes were nudged aside one another, forming an almost unbroken line of impressive canvasses.

Several details attracted the eye, making concentration difficult. Danielle had pointed this out the first time Corrine had left her here to practice a series of mental exercises, and her Teacher had smiled back as she left, showing her admiration for her pupil solid grasp of the obvious.

She stretched a little, and her shoulders flared in protest, still feeling the harsh workout that had failed to take her mind off things. She sighed heavily, hoping it would evacuate some of the residual tension the exercise hadn’t sublimated.

Mental gymnastics were not helping either, and she untangled herself from her lotus stance, raising her knees and leaning her chin against them.

She turned her eyes to the doorway, and the rhythm of Josiane’s steps echoing down the corridor. She looked up, offering a neutral smile as greeting, when the young girl whom she recognized led a stranger into the room.

Josiane gave her an inquisitive glance, and Danielle shrugged in response.

“Not to worry. I’m done.”

Josiane was younger than she was, a shade past eighteen, but the well-dressed woman that trailed her appeared ten years older, judging by the polished looks and professional confidence of her rigid stance. It mingled oddly with the disorientation and arousal evident in eyes, and her round cheeks were flushed, as if she had suddenly found herself performing for office clients in a can-can line at the Moulin Rouge.

It was a predictable catch for Josiane, but it doubled as a saving grace considering her impeccable taste. With scarcely a glance, Danielle could guess the pattern of induction. The girlish dress Josiane wore barely contained her fully developed figure, lending her the look of a youthful, promiscuous lycéenne, which had no doubt shocked the older woman in her last moments of free will. She pictured the strange fantasies, slowly beginning their assault on her psyche... the beguiling thoughts, relentlessly conjuring images of exquisite bliss... her eyes caressing the lovely, feminine shape of the strange girl, burning with guilt and desire as she wondered how it would feel to prostate herself before her... wondering how an act so shamefully erotic could make her cunt so wonderfully moist...

Danielle focused on the woman with a practiced eye. The Givenchy striped blazer, conservative skirt and leather pumps spoke at length of her administrative duties, her long, well-manicured nails utterly untarnished by the drudgery of secretarial work. The carefully coordinated addition of corral-tinted earrings, balanced by a golden chain on which hung a beautiful amethyst, proved a little outlandish for a governmental office, orienting Danielle’s guess towards the fashion industry instead.

Labor or management? She’s pretty enough for the former, but the industry is unforgiving when it comes to age, even when it comes to their corporate lines.

She gratified Josiane with an appreciative smile. From one to the other, then. Sharp, intelligent and driven enough to survive in both worlds.

Josiane allowed her enthusiasm to bubble, enjoying playing her part. She struck a coy pose, fluttering her lashes coquettishly as her hand traced the edge of the woman’s blazer, her devilish fingers undoing the top buttons of the white shirt, to reveal a lacy bra.

“Clarisse is quite something, isn’t she?”

Danielle hummed her agreement, rising to her feet and quietly slipping towards Josiane’s new toy. Her hand brushed a few ripples in the skirt and withdrew it an instant later, warmed by the firm flesh underneath it.

“Where did Corrine find her?”

“She was brought in with a few others. Friends of your pet, I think.”

Josiane’s fingers traced winding shapes between Clarisse’s breasts, and she searched the woman’s exquisite features inspiration. “Not quite sure what I’ll do with her yet... I know Corrine wants me to take her far... but leaving her enough presence of mind to beg not to be humiliated is just too tempting...”

Her voice had taken on a dreamy quality as she leaned forward, filling the woman’s eyes with her own. Clarisse responded with a moan, her mind swallowed by dark arousal. She blinked once, twice, a if to summon tears that would not come. Her mouth worked frantically to form words, but hotter, more desperate sounds escaped her.

Josiane pressed her hand against the woman’s crotch, feeling the outline of her mons. “It’s easy, chère Clarisse... it’s so easy to say ‘please... don’t...’”

Her lips brushed hotly against her prey’s cheek, her breath dancing close between them. She leaned in, teasing the tips of her breasts, taunt in her virgin-white sweater, against the firm shapes that filled the woman’s blazer.

“P-p... please...” Clarisse whispered huskily. The fear that lived in her words could not mask her burning need, and she pressed back against the girl’s hand, letting her plea suit whatever lustful designs Maîtresse had for her.

Danielle was surprised by the heat of the musings, reaching her before she could even gleam coherence from them. Make me make me take them off drenched oh please yes touch me feel me through the skirt naked obedient my cunt all hot and wet for you.

“I think she’s enjoying it rather too much, Josiane,” Danielle observed, keeping her tone steady while her sudden yearning for the return of Fabienne itched between her legs. Corrine had not said much before whisking her pet away in the morning, but she knew her Teacher had need of her in matters relating to Ambrian enclaves which still thrived on Covenance grounds.

Josiane met Danielle’s eyes, keeping her hand busy against Clarisse’s crotch. “I do think Corrine has taught her a few things, though I can’t imagine why she bothered... his poor thing was docile to begin with... we really should be allowed to have our little fun with them when they’re still out and about...”

Her nonchalance masked the cool focus and ruthless dedication Danielle knew her to be capable of, but the boast seemed a dangerous one just the same. There was a dark feeling, stirred by what Josiane’s words, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what was bothering her about it.

“Corrine knows what’s best for us. Better to stay put, until the she and the rest of the Council figures out what the Ambrians are up to.”

Josiane glanced at Clarisse, her short laugh ringing with derisiveness. “You mean, aside from kneeling obediently when we come calling?”

The notion seemed even more ludicrous in light of Josiane’s sarcasm. There was a great deal of resistance on the part of their rivals, but Danielle shifted uncomfortably, knowing full well that no one among the Order, Corrine included, had yet to find cause to wonder about the disastrous tactics adopted by the Ambrians, and the great losses they had incurred as a result.

Her voice grew reproachful, but she wasn’t up for an argument. “Josiane—”

The girl waved the comment off with a hand, the other becoming gentle as it felt gently against the wet spot forming on Clarisse’s skirt. Her moans had transcended into breathless squeals as Josiane taught her, effortlessly, how empty an obedient cunt-slut’s mind could become when a charming, innocent little girls caressed her this way..

“Look at her here... fetched along with the rest... already hot and wet... her mind has been pried open Danielle... just like her pretty legs... her pretty little pussy... already hot and wet...“

Josiane’s fingers slipped under Clarisse’s skirt.

“Mundanes or Daughters, it makes no difference. They are coming up in droves... All of them... coming up for air... ready to be enslaved...”

Something dark was alive in Clarisse’s cries, but Danielle could only squeeze her thighs together as Josiane’s words spun incessantly in her mind, conjuring the image of scores of obedient Ambrian sluts...

All of them just like her pretty little Fabienne, smiling happily.

So eager to be taught.

She turned and left, her legs shaky.

The echo of Clarisse’s unbridled cries following her for a very long time.