The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The demon temptress Lilibat stood before the row of rocky cages, their bars jagged teeth of red-hot stone reaching from the cavern’s floor and ceiling to meet like the fangs of monsters, and smiled. The sounds of their occupants’ screams were music to her ears.

One in particular, a plain-faced woman with an unimpressive figure, entertained her. Once, she had been Dr. Susan Jones, a professor of medieval history at a fundamentalist-run university. That, however, was before she had decided to turn her secret hobby of occultism to the task of summoning a demon to help her get even with all the men who had rejected and humiliated her.

She’d gone through the ritual more as a catharsis, a venting of emotion, than out of any real expectation that it would work—but it had. She had summoned a powerful Dark Lord, and he had invested her with demonic abilities. She had gained a limited shape-shifting power along with a magical glamor which enabled her to enslave any male completely and control females to a lesser degree.

What she hadn’t known was that her demon form was more than a mere disguise. Her hellish benefactor had turned her into a human chrysalis for a succubus, whose control over her had steadily grown until her human form was little more than a shell. When at last she’d been defeated and banished from the mortal plane, she had left behind a crumbling husk. And on arriving in the Nether Realm, her human soul had been withdrawn and placed into the cage from which it now cried hopelessly for mercy from the demon Dr. Jones had incubated.

Lilibat was that demon. Red-skinned, with an exotically beautiful face framed by two sharp little horns, pointed ears and a thick mane of red-highlighted black hair which cascaded to her waist, long legs tapering gracefully to small cloven hooves, she looked nothing like the human woman whose doomed soul cowered before her. No one would ever guess that they had once been one and the same.

The other howling sufferers before her had fallen to her charms and become her helpless slaves, only to end up here when she had literally fucked them to death. They’d had it coming, of course: Professor Joshua Carstairs had been a sanctimonious bully and lecher, and the Reverend Charles Kellogg Bryer, wealthy television evangelist and founder of the university where she’d worked, had been no better.

Two empty cages stood waiting. Their intended occupants would be arriving in due time: Caleb Mather, college dean and embezzler, and Benjamin Lewis, who had been running a term-paper mill when the two of them had met. Hell, of course, might seem a bit extreme a punishment for an offense like that—but he had shown no trace of guilt over his misdeeds. She doubted he would repent; more likely, he would go on to bigger, better scams. She was confident that when the time came, he would have richly earned his punishment.

Her reverie was interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Gloating again, I see,” said the demon lord Asmodiel. There was amusement in his voice, rather like that of a parent watching a child at play. And indeed he was a “parent” to her, in a way. It had been Asmodiel, after all, who had answered Dr. Jones’s call on that night long ago, who had guided her on the path to full demonhood thereafter, and who had then become her lover.

Lilibat laughed. “Of course I’m gloating again,” she answered. “And why not?”

Asmodiel regarded her seriously as he responded. “Three mortals brought here, and two more scheduled to arrive. A worthy start. But surely that is not to be all?”

Lilibat pouted. “What can I do, Dark Lord?” She gestured around her at the cavern they occupied. “Trapped here by that magician’s exorcism, how can I ensnare more souls?” She thought wistfully of handsome young Jerry Chisholm and Brad Connor, students she’d enthralled before her banishment. They had been freed of her influence, of course, the moment she had been exorcised. Pity; they’d been such fun!

“How would you like an opportunity to return to the mortal sphere?” asked Asmodiel.

“Return!” Lilibat’s eyes blazed. “How?”

“It’s simple,” came the answer. “Through magical means, I have caused your name and description to be inserted in certain mortal texts on demonology. To the mortals themselves, it is as if this information had always been there.

“And even as we speak, one of them is preparing to cast a summoning spell.” Asmodiel smiled fiendishly (of course). “It is a simple matter to guide him to your name; just a nudge to pick this demon rather than that.” After a moment he added, “You will be delighted to know that the summoner is located at the very university where you taught as Dr. Jones. It seems the Reverend Bryer’s successor has been less successful than he hoped in purging it of sin.”

Lilibat clapped her hands and chuckled throatily. “I can’t wait,” she purred. “I look forward to luring more men to their doom.” She thought briefly once again of Jerry and Brad—and then of Dr. Nicholas Fatakis and his assistant Rita Hawkins, who had defeated her and cast her out. “And I’ve some unfinished business to attend to, as well.” Her eyes flared yellow fire.

“Then prepare yourself, daughter of Lilith,” rumbled Asmodiel. “Prepare yourself!”

Frank Willis lit the last candle and stepped back to survey his work.

It looked fine, he decided: a classic pentagram. The central figure was properly inscribed, the outer ring was complete, and now it was illuminated as the books said to do.

He paused to gather his nerve before beginning the incantation.

If only his parents hadn’t decided going to a “God-fearing” university would help put him on the straight and narrow after the trouble he’d gotten into in high school. Since he’d arrived, his life had been hell. When his professors and fellow students weren’t trying to convert him, they shunned him—and the bullshit answers they made you put down in some of the classes were just incredible! The dinosaurs drowned in Noah’s flood? Black people were black because of the curse of Ham? (Or was it the mark of Cain? He could never remember.) Please!

He’d taken up an interest in the supernatural just to spite them. Now, hidden in the basement of the Charles Kellogg Bryer Memorial Library, he was going to give them the ultimate fuck-you: a genuine demonic summoning.

Not that he expected it to work, of course. He wasn’t a superstitious nitwit. But he’d set everything up just as the legends required, and picked a being to call: a succubus called Lilibat. Hey, if he was going to act out a fantasy, why not add in a little sex? The whole point was to do something utterly offensive to the pious cranks who ran this place.

And not get caught, of course. If anyone burst in on him now, he’d be lucky just to be expelled. The wackos running this funny farm might decide on an exorcism instead. He’d heard stories . . . !

He drew the ritual blade across his wrist and allowed several drops of blood to fall onto the parchment bearing the summoning spell. The words themselves had been copied from a book, but the parchment itself had been prepared just as the medieval magicians would have done it, and the ink had been made from goat’s blood. He’d put a lot of time into his little project.

He spoke the words. They came out letter-perfect. They should, he thought; he’d practiced enough. He delivered them in Latin, but he heard their English translation in his mind as he spoke: “Come to me, Lilibat, Daughter of Darkness. Hear my plea, and come to Thy supplicant! I offer Thee and Thy dark Master mine immortal soul in exchange for Thine aid. Forsaking all allegiance to the Highest, I petition Thee for Thine assistance in gaining that which I desire! Come, O Dark Lady; hear my plea, and grant my boon if it be Thy will!”

Twice more he delivered the incantation, dripping a little more blood onto his manufactured scroll each time. Then he waited.

After several minutes, he had begun to regret the whole thing. His wrist was really starting to hurt badly. He was standing naked at midnight in the basement of a library in a fundamentalist Christian university, with a full-blown mystic pentagram laid out on the floor in front of him. And what was he waiting for, anyway? It wasn’t as if the ritual were actually going to work.

He turned away and bent down to pick up his discarded clothing. As soon as he’d gotten dressed again, he thought, he’d destroy all evidence of the ceremony and sneak on home.

There was a loud WHUMP! behind him and a powerful rush of air, which carried a distinctly sulfurous smell to his nostrils. A musical voice laughed and said, “Why, Frank! Don’t tell me you’re leaving already! I just got here!”

Very slowly, Frank turned around.

He couldn’t believe his eyes. Standing in the center of the pentagram was a gorgeous creature, her naked body all inviting curves wrapped in smooth, bright-red skin. Small white horns peeked out from under the curly hair on her forehead, and a reddish-black mane rolled down her back to her waist. The tips of pointed ears showed through this marvelous pelt. Luscious legs tapered to small feet ending in tiny white cloven hooves, and a long tail with a small, sharp barb at its tip flicked restlessly, coiling over one scarlet thigh.

It had worked. It had actually worked!

“Well, don’t just stand there gaping, Frank honey,” the delectable demon teased. “At least one of us isn’t going to live forever. You went to a lot of trouble to bring me here. Why don’t we get down to business?”

“Li-Li-Lilibat?” Frank stammered. The demon’s eyes were so beautiful, he thought weakly; he could lose himself in those eyes. . . .

“That’s just who I am, all right,” the scarlet woman cooed. “Now why don’t you tell me why you called me here?”

“Uh. Uhh. Of . . . of course.” With an effort, Frank tore his gaze away from those wonderful eyes. He struggled not to stare stupidly at this wet dream brought to life as he assembled his thoughts.

“I really didn’t expect the spell to work,” he confessed. “I only tried it because I wanted to deliberately do something . . .” Words failed him.

“Defiant?” suggested Lilibat. “Shocking?”

“That’s it,” Frank admitted. “that’s it exactly. I was so tired of—look, the people here are so sanctimonious, so sure they’re better than everyone else. I just wanted to do something that went against everything they always preach at me—even if it didn’t work, and even if nobody knew I’d done it.”

Lilibat laughed. “Believe it or not, Frank honey, I know exactly what you mean!” She smiled seductively at him and went on. “Since your incantation actually did work, and I’m really here, why don’t we see what we can think to do next?”

Frank gulped. “Wh-what did you . . . have in mind?” It was getting hard to think. He was getting hard, looking at this amazing babe. Certainly the fact that they were both nude didn’t help.

“There’s only so much I can do from in here, Frank honey,” Lilibat told him.

“C-c-can you, hnhh! grant me a wish?” Frank panted. God, she was beautiful!

“Of course I can,” she answered. “But the sort of thing I bet you’re wishing for now would be a lot easier if you’d just let me out of this pentagram.” She was toying with the mortal now, reeling him in slowly. Unlike the mage who had trapped her last time, he had no protection whatever against her powers. It simply amused her to take her time with him.

Frank surrendered. Down on his knees he went, and with a few swipes of his now sweaty hand he erased a small section of the mystical diagram’s circular border.

That was enough. The spell was broken. Lilibat stepped out.

“I, I shouldn’t have done that,” Frank stammered. His head swimming, he remained on his knees, arms dangling at his sides, and stared up at the devilish damsel who stood over him now with feet apart and hands on hips.

“No, you shouldn’t, you naughty boy,” Lilibat teased. She reached down and cupped his chin with one taloned hand. The sharp nails dug into his flesh as she pulled upward. His body rose, obeying her prompting without any conscious thought on his part, until he was on his feet. “But you did.”

She kept her hold on his chin, forcing him to face directly into her gaze. “And when the time comes, you’ll pay the price you agreed to.”

Frank whimpered, fear fighting the pleasant haze which seemed to be settling over his mind as he looked into those beautiful eyes.

“Don’t worry,” Lilibat commanded, and Frank relaxed with a sigh. “I’m in no rush to finish things. In fact,” and she smiled a smile which made the now considerably more than half-hypnotized Frank weak in the knees, “I think we can have lots of fun together.”

She looked down, breaking eye contact. “My, my!” she laughed. ”Lots of fun! You want me, don’t you, Frank honey? I know you do; just tell me the truth.”

“Yes! Oh, God, yes!” Frank gasped. He was ready to explode!

Lilibat led the dazed young man away from the ruptured pentagram. “Now, Frank honey,” she admonished him as she guided him along, “I’m very glad to hear that. But you shouldn’t use . . . that Name . . . with me.” Even uttered as a profanity, the name of the Deity burned her a bit where the fires of Hell could not. She was more vulnerable to it now than she had been when she’d still had the soul of Dr. Susan Jones—more vulnerable to all sorts of religious invocations and artifacts. While she’d still been Dr. Jones, she’d even been able to keep a big gold-plated crucifix on the door of the office she’d “inherited” after the death of Professor Carstairs; she’d never be able to do that now.

“S-s-sorry,” whispered Frank. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Lilibat soothed. “I forgive you.”

“Th-thank you. . ..”

“You’re welcome.” She’d reached the spot she wanted. Her arms snaked around Frank, drawing him closer; her hands settled in his hair, digging into the back of his scalp and holding his head steady, forcing him to continue to meet her eyes. She could feel the last of his resistance crumbling as he met her gaze.

They sank to the floor. Lilibat’s legs wound around Frank’s as they lay side-by-side, and the barb of her tail traced lazily up and down his spine. Up and down. Up and down. . . .

With a savage cry, Frank entered her. He was no longer aware of what he was doing; he was merely obedient flesh, controlled by his lover’s body and by her seductive powers. He thrust and thrust, rolling as he did until she lay beneath him, her full breasts squashing hotly against his more muscular chest. He came, screaming her name, and slumped bonelessly against her.

For a moment, the demon-babe feared she’d done it again, killed a mortal lover. That would have been annoying; she hadn’t intended to slay this one, at least not yet. But no—she felt his heartbeat hammering against her, heard him breathing. He was alive.

Good. She still remembered Matthew Lucas, the youth she’d killed accidentally whose soul had gone Above rather than Below. She had no desire for another such embarrassment. Frank, she judged, would need more corrupting before it would be time to send him Down.

But first, a little insurance.

“Frank, honey,” she addressed him. “Are you awake?”

“Mnnhh,” he mumbled. “’Wake.”

“Frank,” she ordered, “open your eyes and look at me. I want you to pay attention.”

Frank opened his eyes and looked at her. He focused his attention on her. His eyes met hers, and he was falling, falling into those wonderful orbs.

“Frank, I want you to clear away the pentagram. Remove every sign of it, and when you’re done, destroy the parchment you used to summon me. Will you do that for me, Frank?”

As if from another galaxy, he heard his voice reply: “Yes, Lilibat. Clear away . . . the pentagram. Remove every sign . . . of it. Destroy the . . . summoning parchment. I will do that for you.”

“Very good, Frank,” said the demoness. “And once you’ve destroyed the parchment, I want you to forget the summoning ritual completely. You’ll do that for me, Frank, won’t you, because it’s what I want?”

“Yes, Lilibat,” Frank agreed meekly. “After I destroy the parchment . . . forget the summoning ritual . . . completely. Because it’s what . . . you want.”

“And one more thing,” the succulent she-fiend added. “I want you to be unable to say my name backward, or write it backward, or even think it backward. Do you understand, and will you obey?”

Frank nodded slowly, keeping his eyes on hers. “Yes. I understand. I will obey. I cannot say . . . your name backward, or write it backward, or even . . . think it backward.”

“That’s a good boy, Frank,” Lilibat said. “And as a reward, I command you to take me again.” She smiled. “Between my breasts this time, Frank honey.”

Frank obeyed, pumping away into Lilibat’s impressive cleavage until at last, with a shrill squeal, he came. Afterward, exhausted, he rolled off her and lay in a heap.

Eyes half-lidded and smoldering orange, Lilibat basked in the afterglow. She had learned when she first acquired her powers how enjoyable it was to reduce a man to a puppet of flesh, a living appliance for her pleasure and convenience. It was even more so now that she was no longer burdened by even a remnant of a human conscience.

And her commands to Frank had come out of that experience as well. Now that he had obeyed her compulsion for more sex, he had gotten up, still nude, and begun methodically demolishing the mystic pattern laid out on the floor. Once he’d eradicated it completely and disposed of the parchment bearing the spell, her mental blocks would kick in. He would never be able to create a rite to bind her again, or to send her back to Hell.

Just as Frank finished ripping up the parchment, there came the faint sound of two clangs: the bell in the library’s Gothic-style tower, tolling the hour. Two in the morning. Lilibat addressed Frank again.

“Frank honey,” she said, “I need you to go home now, and go to sleep. When you awaken in the morning, you will feel relaxed and refreshed, and you will remember what happened here tonight. You will remember, but you will tell no one. Do you understand, and will you obey?”

Frank nodded and repeated her instructions in a sleepy voice.

“Tomorrow morning, you will go into town and purchase clothes for me. You will buy clothes as if you were getting them for a girlfriend, and if anyone asks who they’re for, that’s what you’ll tell them.” She gave him the necessary measurements.

“You will then return here, where I will be waiting, and give me the clothes. When you do return, you must make certain no one sees you.”

“Yes,” Frank said. Some remnant of consciousness stirred, and he asked, “But . . . the way you look . . . clothes won’t be enough, will they?”

Standing, Lilibat patted Frank’s cheek and said, “You just let me worry about that, honey. Now be a good boy and do as your Lilibat says.”

He started for the stairs, mumbling, “Be a good boy. Do as . . . Lilibat says.”

She stopped him, laughing wickedly. “Get dressed first, Frank honey. Then go and do as I told you.” It excited her that her prey was so totally in her power that he’d moved to obey without even remembering he was naked. She was so turned on that she was briefly tempted to call him back for another hot screw before letting him go. With a sigh, she decided against it. There would be plenty of time later.

Frank dressed himself and left, his mind empty of everything but Lilibat’s programming and the vision of her gorgeous body. And those eyes, those beautiful eyes.

The she-demon settled down to wait.

It was early afternoon when Frank returned.

He struggled down the stairs into the library basement under a load of packages. Lilibat, who had been hiding in the shadows, emerged.

“Here,” Frank wheezed, dropping his burden at her feet. “The clothes you asked for. But I still don’t see how—!”

His jaw dropped. Suddenly he was no longer facing the horned, tailed, cloven-hoofed temptress he had conjured up, but a beautiful, completely human-looking woman with tanned skin and hair a lighter shade of red. His body responded, his member engorging instantly.

“Wow,” he got out.

“You like what you see, don’t you?” Lilibat teased.

Frank blushed furiously. “Any guy would!”

She dimpled at him. “Thank you, Frank honey.” Turning her attention to the things he’d brought, she continued, “And as you can see, now clothing will be helpful. I can enslave any male completely, like you, Frank honey, but that doesn’t mean I want to have to subjugate every man I meet just to keep from drawing the wrong sort of attention.”

“Uh,” Frank said. “Y-yes. I see what you mean.” It didn’t occur to him to object that she’d referred to him as “enslaved.”

“Of course you do,” Lilibat acknowledged. “Now come here, Frank.”

He came to her. Her lips met his as her arms wound around him and her legs trapped his own. They sank down.

Once again Frank’s mind dissolved in the heat of Lilibat’s flesh, and he became an eager tool. As they writhed together, she worked with him to cast away his garments. Once he was nude, her hands played along his spine as though she were a virtuoso pianist caressing the keyboard of her favorite instrument. Pleasure shot through him, making him jump and dance in seizures of ecstasy. He thrust into her again and again, spurting wildly, over and over, until he was totally empty. At last he simply lay against her, head pillowed on her breast, and slept.

Lilibat smirked. Mousy Dr. Jones had never gotten this kind of action, and never would have.

Almost tenderly, she eased the unconscious Frank Willis off of her, laying him carefully on the floor. While he slumbered on, she opened the boxes he’d brought with him and examined their contents.

Yes, she decided at length, they’d do.

The outfit he’d bought her included high-heeled strappy sandals, nylons, a short white skirt and a tight, low-cut blouse in light blue, as well as bikini briefs and a brassiere in her size. A pair of tinted sunglasses completed the ensemble. She giggled, imagining what the store clerks must have thought about a young man buying all those sexy female clothes. Well, it didn’t matter. Frank existed now to serve her.

She dressed, then sat down next to her still-sleeping servant. There was one more box, a small one; when she opened it, she found a mirror, lipstick and eyeliner inside. Smiling, she touched herself up. Not that I need it, she thought smugly.

Something occurred to her. She had never come up with a name for the form she was wearing now. She’d meant to, but Dr. Fatakis had banished her before she’d done it, and of course she’d had no use for a human form Below. Perhaps now was the time. If she were going out into the world again—yes, now was the time.

Let’s see now, she thought. It should be memorable, with a nice little in-joke built in; after all, it’s not as if anyone’s likely to guess who I really am! Something sexy, something. . . . She pouted, concentrating.

I have it! She smiled. Just the thing: sexy, but not TOO exotic—and I get my private laugh, too.

She knelt down and gently shook Frank by the shoulder.

“Mnnh?” he grunted. Then, as she continued rocking him, his eyes opened and he said, “Lilibat?”

His eyes opened wider as he sat up and took in her new look.

“You did well, Frank honey,” she praised him. “This outfit is just what I need. Now it’s time for me to leave here.” She giggled. “To start going to and fro in the world.” Her eyes flashed yellow. “I have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

She looked down at Frank. “Don’t just sit there, honey. You’re coming with me. It’s what you want, isn’t it? More than anything in the world?” Her eyes met his.

“GNNGHH!“ Frank’s strangled groan was nearly a scream. One look into her eyes and he was lost again. “Yes! Yes! More than anything! Please, Lilibat! Please!“

“Then get dressed and come along, honey.” Frank scrambled to obey, and the succubus added, “Oh yes: at least while I look like this, it’s not Lilibat anymore. You’ll call me Luci.” She snickered. “Luci Ferra.”

“Of course,” Frank agreed. The dazzling haze her eyes had cast over his mind was fading, but he was still completely pliable. “Luci Ferra. When you look like this. Yes.” He nodded eagerly.

Finally he finished dressing. “Luci” looked him over and adjusted his collar, then brushed his hair lightly with one hand. “There,” she said when she was satisfied with his appearance. “Now come along. We have a lot to do.”

Frank Willis and the beautiful demon who owned him climbed the stairs to the first floor. They passed through the lobby and went out through the glass-paneled doors, into the afternoon sunlight.