The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Are you finished feeding your pet yet, Kendrel?” Adriel asked impatiently, staring not at her brother, but at Lucy, eyes narrowed with disdain.

“Alright, I’ve had just about enough of your attitude!” Lucy scolded across the varnished oak table, not quite loud enough to alert other patrons of the Israeli bar they’d stopped in for a meal soon after landing. “I get it, you don’t like humans, you’re above us, and whatever else you tell yourself to feel superior. But if Kendrel is right, then you need me to succeed, so quit playing high and mighty all the time!”

Kendrel smiled at his human companion with a brow raised in mild pride. Then he turned to his sister. “A phrase which, as you’ll remember, began with Yaweh in the first place. I hope the irony is not lost on you.”

“It’s not,” Adriel huffed, and then continued, “And I hope this isn’t lost on you.” And then, she vanished.

Lucy was only surprised for a second, then she was curious, as was her nature. “Is it just me, or is Adriel even more irritable than usual since we got here? Not that I know what her usual is, but I just get this feeling...”

“She doesn’t like working with humans,” Kendrel answered simply.

“Yeah, I deduced as much. But it seems like there’s something more. Maybe I’m just applying human psychology to a goddess, and perhaps that’s in error, but I can’t help thinking...”

Realizing Lucy would never stop prying, Kendrel sighed and resigned himself to honesty. “She doesn’t like being home. We were both born not far from here, in different ages, in a small town that was then known as Yafo. Then Yaweh happened, and during his reign, most of us did our best to keep our distance. We left home, traveled the world, never settled. Coming back... it’s a reminder of those times.”

Lucy nodded her understanding. “Okay, so I don’t blame her too much for the attitude. I guess it’s like a Jew visiting Auschwitz. But it still needs to stop. If she comes back, that is.”

“She’ll return. If not for me, than because she wants to rule almost as much as I.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask about that... what’s in it for you? Personally, I mean. It can’t just be the power, you have plenty of that. Or is it a case of ‘even the richest man wants for more’?”

“I have my reasons,” Kendrel replied curtly, lips tightening slightly.

“I thought we were in a sharing mood today, Kendrel?” Lucy teased with a friendly smile. She may not have known the gods long, but she grew more comfortable with them, and more familiar, by the hour. She almost felt like she could consider them friends. Maybe not Adriel, but perhaps at least Kendrel.

Kendrel sighed. “I need you to trust me. If that requires reciprocation... then so be it. Adriel didn’t used to despise humans the way she does now. In fact, I recall her being quite close friends with some long ago, which unfortunately came to be her fatal flaw. And mine, I suppose, as much as you can call deep love a mere friendship.

“A few centuries ago, in the middle of Great Britain, Adriel and I did, in fact, settle for a bit. Long enough to form bonds with both the gods and the humans in the area. We coexisted in a way we thought nigh impossible since the days of Yaweh, though of course the humans never knew the truth of what we were. Adriel became close with a man named Jonas—naught more than platonic, to be clear, which was rare for her even then. She would wait for him at the close of each workday, help him carry his loads home, and chat about this or that. She was happy simply knowing him.

“While she was busy making friends, I had found more than that. She... her name was Alina. At first, we began as friends, too, but as we grew closer, we both knew we had formed a stronger bond. Our relationship was different from the many trysts of my past. She was beautiful and alluring, surely, but there was a wit about her, too. We would discuss philosophy some days, and others would be spent merely lying in the grass and making crude jokes, solely to see the other laugh. Women in those days weren’t encouraged to be smart or clever or even remotely interesting; they were things to be dolled up and to say ‘yes, sir’. Alina was not that. In my opinion, she was closer to a goddess than any human had been.

“And so we spent four years in that blissful state, during which time I had revealed to her my nature. She didn’t fear me, as many of her time might have. She embraced me, every bit of me, and loved it all. She never requested I perform tricks with my powers for her amusement, but nor did she ask me to hide myself in private. I could be everything I was, and she could be everything she was, and we could just live, laugh, and love together. Until Jonas came to call.

“Alina and I had been having such a stimulating conversation on the nature of reality that my attention was diverted when Jonas walked through our door without a knock. It just happened to be that same moment when I had been refilling Alina’s carafe of wine, with only a thought of course. Jonas saw the jug fill itself in front of her, and he jumped to the conclusion that, obviously, Alina was a witch. An evil, devil-worshiping, demon-summoning entity from hell that must be purged from the town. He swooped in and grabbed her, started dragging her outside. I was ready to stop him in an instant, until I saw Alina’s eyes. She pleaded with them for me to stand down, to not reveal myself, to let her suffer the consequences. I know she was right: if the townspeople had discovered what I was, with the Pact in effect, I would have only two options. I could flee the town and be on the run yet again, or I could kill everyone and live with the guilt of knowing I had murdered everyone Alina loved. There was no good choice, so I simply chased after Jonas and pleaded with him to leave her be.

“As Jonas made a bigger and bigger scene dragging Alina through town, me behind him, Adriel became aware of the situation. I let her read my thoughts enough for her to know why she needed to restrain herself. While I pleaded with Jonas, Adriel demanded. She demanded he let Alina go, she threatened him, she did everything she could without revealing her divinity. Nothing would convince him; the man was on a rampage. A holy mission, I’m sure he considered it.

“In the end, there was no hope. All I could do was channel some of my energy into Alina, just enough so she wouldn’t have to feel the flames melt her flesh as she stood propped upon a cross. Symbolic of Jesus, only Alina wasn’t a god. She was human, as divine as her personality could be, and the flames took her forever. Earlier I quipped that resurrecting a human takes a lot of energy, and it does; but trying to resurrect a corpse whose flesh has been charred and turned to ash? There are some limits even gods cannot surpass.

“That day broke me and Adriel in different ways.” Lucy didn’t notice the goddess listening in from the cover of a wall corner, crying silently as she relived unwanted memories of betrayal and pain; but Kendrel could sense her presence. Still, he continued addressing Lucy. “Adriel swore she could never bond with humans again. That her closest confidant would murder someone simply for having the appearance of superhuman ability... that he would kill an innocent woman... and that he would destroy me, her brother, so thoroughly... it convinced her that no humans were ever to be trusted, only used as they would use her.”

After a short silence, Lucy asked, “And you?”

“I’m not sure I believe that about all humans,” he said, dodging the real question.

“I meant... how did it break you?”

Another sigh. “For one thing, I vowed never to fall in love with a human again, if only to protect those I might care for. And for another... Jonas didn’t just coincidentally burst into our home that day. He had come to accuse Alina of what he considered ‘indecent crimes’. That is, Alina and I had a healthy and active sex life. Somehow, he’d noticed, but as he and many others in town had decided sex was for reproduction only, he considered it to be immoral in some way. I’ll admit, we weren’t always the most secretive or quiet in our activities, but it was truly nothing more public than you’d see on many modern television shows. For them, that was too much. It was too indecent, and Jonas was ready to punish Alina for that long before he considered her a witch. I sometimes wonder whether she received the better fate; perhaps her punishment for being a living creature and enjoying sex would have been a longer-lasting torture...

“Whatever the case, after that day, my interest in humans turned more towards catharsis. Towards watching them express egregious sexuality of a kind far worse than what they would once have tortured my love for. Adriel is sexual by nature. I was not. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy carnal pleasures, but until that day, the idea to coerce humans into sexual playthings had never crossed my mind. Now... it’s nearly the only way I can relieve any stress.”

“That sounds like an actual addiction, caused by post-traumatic stress...” mused Lucy.

Kendrel smirked solemnly. “You’re not here to diagnose me, Professor. You’re here to help us achieve our goals.”

“Yes, right, sorry. I didn’t mean to... I am truly sorry for what you went through.”

“We all are,” piped up the sudden authoritative voice of Adriel, who sauntered over to the table. “Which is why if we need you, you’re going to need to be there and do whatever needs to be done.”

“Yes. Yes, of course,” Lucy agreed.

“If we’re going to be... partners... in this, we all need to trust each other. We don’t know what sort of defenses or traps Yaweh set upon this portal, if it even exists.”

“Partners?” Lucy repeated, smiling.

“Don’t read too much into it,” Adriel responded, though with a slight bit more joviality than Lucy had ever heard in her tone.

“Well, then,” Kendrel chimed in. “It seems as though we’re all determined now and focused on the same goal. And Lucy, you seem nourished enough to be at your best. So what do you say we go find Yaweh’s old chambers?”

“Before we do,” Lucy said, halting Kendrel’s motions halfway out of his chair. “Just a small question that’s been bugging me. Nothing too serious, just a curiosity.”

Kendrel raised an eyebrow. “What more could you possibly wonder about our history?”

“Not your history,” she corrected. “Your names. ‘Kendrel’ and ‘Adriel’. In the mythology, angel names ended with ‘—el’ because God—El—had created them. But you are not children of El, so... what gives? Just a total coincidence?”

Kendrel smiled warmly. “Not a coincidence at all. Adriel and Kendrel are not our birth names, they are names we adopted much later in life. After Yaweh’s coup, many of us gods changed our names, choosing to honor our decisions to stand with El. ‘Kendrel’ meaning ‘El’s fire’, vowing my vengeance on Yaweh someday. Adriel meaning—”

“Meaning ‘dark El’,” Adriel answered for herself. “I may have found some peace... temporarily... during my time in Britain, but shortly after Yaweh’s takeover, I had none available. All I felt was rage and anger and a lust for retribution. As Kendrel had chosen the metaphor of flames, I chose a metaphor of night to express myself.”

“Now, if you’re finished asking questions, I believe it’s time for all of us to find answers. Let us begin our search.” Lucy nodded, and the group of three disparate fellows headed out the door of the bar, just another set of tourists as far as any of the patrons could tell.