The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Jennie Morgan was bored.

It was a slow afternoon at the branch of First Union Bank where she worked in customer services. A few people were over at the teller windows, but no one had come to her desk all day. She’d already taken her one allowed afternoon break, though, and her supervisor frowned on her reading at her desk or anything like that. She was supposed to sit there, looking bright and attentive, waiting to serve. After a while, you sort of zoned out. She’d seen some of the other reps sometimes, sitting there glassy-eyed with stupid smiles on their faces. She kind of suspected she looked like that herself sometimes.

Suddenly her reverie was broken by an odd change in the atmosphere. She looked up.

All the men in the bank, customers and employees alike, had stopped talking. They were all staring in the direction of her desk, stunned looks on their faces. A couple of them looked like they were actually drooling.

And no wonder. Standing in front of her was the most beautiful woman Jennie had ever seen. Curves to die for, long, wavy dark-red hair, a model’s face, and dressed in an outfit designed to show her off to the world. Everything but her eyes, anyway, which were hidden behind a pair of tinted sunglasses. Even behind the shades, though, those eyes were oddly compelling. Jennie found herself staring into them, as if it were somehow very important to do so.

“Excuse me,” the woman said. “Are you the one I need to see to open an account here?” Her voice was as gorgeous as the rest of her. Listening to it was like being stroked all over. . . .With an effort, Jennie focused on business.

“Y-yeah,” Jennie stammered. “I mean, yes.” Professional, she had to stay professional. “I’m the one.” Gesturing at the chair to the right of her desk, she said, “Please sit down.”

The woman sat.

“My name is Luci Ferra,” she declared. “That’s L-U-C-I, F-E-R-R-A.”

Jennie sputtered. Come on, she thought. That’s like a bad joke. But she said nothing. You didn’t make fun of customers’ names—and this one wasn’t even the worst she’d run into.

The woman smiled as if she’d guessed what was going through Jennie’s mind. “Don’t be embarrassed,” she said. “Some people’s parents just have no sense when it comes to naming their children.” She laughed.

Jennie laughed back. She liked this woman!

Returning to business, she asked, “So you want to open an account with us? How much money were you planning on depositing?”

“Actually, that’s something I wanted to discuss with you,” Luci said. “I don’t have any money. I was hoping your bank could arrange to deposit some for me.”

“What?” Jennie couldn’t believe her ears. “Are you kidding? We don’t—!”

Her voice trailed away as the other woman calmly removed her glasses, revealing her eyes. They were beautiful. Brilliant. Wonderful. All-important.

The bank faded from Jennie’s awareness. The only things she saw were those eyes. They were twin whirlpools of fabulous light. After some nameless interval, they merged into one, a gorgeous vortex into which Jennie dived gratefully.

Luci put her glasses back on. “You were saying?”

“Uh,” Jennie responded. “Ooooh.” Her face was a mask of bliss.

The other woman smiled. She knew that look, and loved it. It was the look of total submission. The bank clerk was lost in her own private world now. Her only connection to ordinary reality was Luci’s voice, Lilibat’s voice, which would tell her what to do and think.

The she-demon was well satisfied. She couldn’t very well have come into the bank as her hellish self, horns, hooves, red skin and all—but her human form had the same seductive powers.

Of course, those powers had their limitations. She could command men to do absolutely anything, but with women, she had to avoid orders which went against their basic moral code. Overconfidence in this regard had played a role in her defeat last time, when she had pushed the magician Dr. Fatakis’ aide Rita Hawkins too far.

“What were you saying?” Luci prompted again.

“Um,” Jennie mumbled. Then, collecting herself, she answered, “Uh, I was saying that . . . that we can’t just give you money to open an account.” Her voice was soft and hesitant, as if she were having trouble putting words together. “I can’t do that.”

“That’s all right,” Luci said. “Perhaps I could speak to the branch manager?”

“Speak to . . . the branch manager.” Jennie smiled. “Of course. I’ll call him right away.”

She picked up the phone on her desk, punched in a number, and, after a few seconds, spoke. “Mr. Hardesty? There’s a woman here at customer service who needs to speak with you a moment. Can you please come out?” Another few seconds passed. “Thank you, sir.”

Jennie looked up. “He’ll be right out, Ms. Ferra.” The stunned look was fading from her features, but Luci knew she could put the other woman under again instantly any time she wanted.

A middle-aged man in a neat gray suit approached the desk.

“Oh, Mr. Hardesty,” Jennie said. “This is Ms. Luci Ferra. She wants to open an account with us, but there’s—well—a problem.”

Luci stood up, facing Hardesty. She noted smugly that the bank official was obviously aroused by her; a visible erection tented the front of his trousers, and he was sweating as he greeted her: “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Ferra. What seems to be the trouble?”

Jennie started to explain, but Hardesty shushed her with a wave. “Now, Miss Morgan, let Ms. Ferra speak for herself.”

Luci tipped up her sunglasses with one hand and looked into Mr. Hardesty’s eyes. “Perhaps we should talk this over in private, Mr. Hardesty? In your office?”

“We should talk this over in private,” Hardesty agreed. “In my office.”

Hardesty turned and walked away. As she prepared to follow him, Luci shot one last glance back at Jennie and decreed, “Everything’s fine, Jennie. Don’t give it another thought.”

“Ev . . . everything’s fine,” Jennie murmured, floating again in the beautiful place Luci’s eyes made for her. Later, when she returned to reality, she didn’t give the matter another thought.

“Now,” Peter Hardesty said as he settled into the comfortable chair behind his big executive desk, “what seems to be the matter? I should think opening a bank account would be easy enough; just fill out the forms and deposit the funds.”

“But that’s just it, sir,” Luci cooed. “I don’t have any funds to deposit.” She could hardly draw on Susan Jones’s old accounts. Five years had passed since her banishment and the death of Dr. Jones’s mortal frame; the money accounts would have been declared inactive, and since Susan had died without a will, her bank would have gotten the money. “I was hoping your bank could give me some—starter funds, you might say.” She smiled at him. “Think of it as a good-will gesture.”

“Now see here, young lady.” Hardesty was no longer relaxed. He half rose out of his chair, leaning forward aggressively with this hands braced atop his desk. “I don’t know what you were imagining, but we here at First Union are a business, not a charity! I’ve half a mind to have you arrested!”

“No,” Luci said calmly, removing her sunglasses and dangling them idly from one hand as she lounged in her chair. ”You see here, Mr. Hardesty.”

She looked into his eyes, and he was done. He was no longer conscious of the expensively furnished room he and Luci occupied; he was aware only of her eyes, and her voice. Her words were his only thoughts.

“Sit down, Mr. Hardesty,” she directed. He obeyed, smiling vacantly.

Luci set her sunglasses down on the desktop and leaned across, eyes locked on Hardesty’s. “What’s your first name, Mr. Hardesty?”

“Peter,” he responded automatically.

“Peter,” Luci repeated. “A nice name. You don’t mind if I call you Peter, do you? Of course you don’t.”

“Of course I don’t.”

“Now Peter,” she chided him, “you said you had half a mind to have me arrested. You didn’t mean that, did you?”

“Didn’t . . . mean that.”

“In fact, you don’t have half a mind to do anything. You don’t have a mind at all, do you?”

Peter sighed. “Don’t have a mind at all.”

“When you look into my eyes, your only thoughts are those I give you,” Luci instructed. “And when you’re not looking into my eyes, you will do as I told you to do when you were looking into my eyes. You will do it without question. Isn’t that right, Peter?”

“Yes,” whispered Peter. “That’s right.”

“Now Peter,” she asked carefully, “is there any way you can give me the money I want? It’s very important, Peter, and I know you want to do anything you can to help me.”

The bank manager was silent briefly. Then he said, “Yes. I know a man . . . in our systems department. He can arrange . . . for electronic transfers to an . . . account created for you.”

“Tell me about this man, Peter.”

“His name is Aaron Lieber,” Hardesty told Luci. “He’s in charge of . . . system security. All access codes and . . . account numbers. Stuff like that. He watches out for hackers. He knows all . . . their tricks. He could do it.” Hesitantly: “But he wouldn’t. He’s . . . too honest.”

Luci laughed softly. “You let me worry about that, Peter.” This Aaron Lieber would be no more of a problem than Hardesty had been.

She looked over her newest slave. She liked what she saw. Peter Hardesty appeared to be in his late forties, to judge by his iron-gray hair and the crow’s feet at his eyes, but the tailored suit he wore fit him in a way which suggested a muscular build beneath.

Perhaps before going to see Hardesty’s computer guy, she could have some fun. Yes.

“You want me, don’t you, Peter?” Luci asked, focusing on the banker, drawing him deeper into her eyes. “You’re so turned on by me that you can’t help yourself. You need to have sex with me, you have to have it! You have to have it now! You don’t even care whether I want it. You have to take me NOW!”

With a bestial roar, Peter Hardesty threw himself across his desk at Luci, seizing her and dragging her onto the thick carpet below. There was only one thought in his mind: he was going to take this woman NOW!

Pinned beneath the banker’s bulk, Luci spoke. “Stop, Peter. Stop, and listen carefully.”

Peter instantly stopped. Frozen in place, he listened carefully.

“I’m in charge, Peter.” Luci held Peter’s eyes with her own and reached up to frame his face with her palms. “You can do only what I say. That’s true, isn’t it? Say, ‘Yes, Mistress Luci,’ if it’s true.”

“Yes, Mistress Luci,” Hardesty responded tamely. “You’re in charge. I can do . . . only what you say.”

“From now on,” Luci commanded, “the words ‘Mistress Luci’ will tell you to obey. When you hear me say those words, even if you are not looking into my eyes, you will obey without thought or question until I release you. Do you understand, and will you obey? Say ‘Yes, Mistress Luci’ if you understand and will obey.”

“Yes, Mistress Luci.”

“And when we are alone,” the temptress added, “you will always call me Mistress Luci. You will find it strongly arousing to do so. But you will call me that only when we are alone. Do you understand, and will you obey?”

“Yes, Mistress Luci.”

The disguised she-demon looked up at the helpless mortal locked motionless over her. He had accepted her trigger suggestion completely. Now she would be able to command him even over the phone, when she couldn’t make eye contact.

Satisfied, she addressed him again. “Now let’s get out of these clothes, shall we? I know you want to have me”—Peter moaned, and Luci giggled at the sound—“and they’ll only get in the way.”

Hardesty released Luci in order to tear at his clothing, peeling it away as quickly as he could manage. Luci stripped as well, less desperately. As she did, she smirked. Not only had she made him her sexual puppet, she was drawing him into embezzlement. It was just too bad that by the rules Asmodiel had laid down at the very beginning, what he did under her power would not condemn his soul. Only actions undertaken with free will could do that, and right now, he didn’t have that; he wouldn’t even know what it was.

Ah, well, she consoled herself, perhaps I’ll have better luck with the programmer.

Finally undressed, the two of them moved together. Peter plunged into her, bucking and gasping. Her power controlled him, keeping him going until—yes! This was the moment! YES! Fireworks exploded behind her eyes and her body thrashed in pleasure along with Hardesty’s.

Afterward, they lay dreamily on the soft rug for a little while. At last, smiling, Luci sat up, looked over at her latest conquest and said, “Peter honey?”

Her words woke him from a pleasant doze. “Yes, Mistress Luci?” The programmed response came out as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“We need to get dressed now,” Luci decreed. “We need to get dressed and see this Mr. Lieber of yours. Unless he’s not available?”

Sitting up himself, Hardesty looked at the clock on one wall. “No,” he informed her. “He should be here. He usually works until at least six-thirty.”

“Good,” Luci said approvingly. She began to dress herself.

It was nearly eight o’clock when Luci returned to Frank Willis’ dorm room on the campus of Freedom Christian University.

Her introduction to Aaron Lieber had gone well, despite a bad moment involving a Star of David ornament he wore. Her newfound sensitivity to religious items was apparently not limited to those of the Christian faith. One suggestion from her, however, after he’d looked into her eyes, had been enough to make him put the thing away where it couldn’t hurt her.

Lieber was actually cute, slender, medium build, with curly black hair—not the stereotypical computer nerd at all. He didn’t even wear glasses. She had enjoyed taking him, and it had amused her to have sex with him while Peter Hardesty watched, commanded into silent immobility. After, she had explained what she needed, then watched as the programmer went into the bank’s carefully protected systems and set up the account she wanted. He had fixed things so a nice lump sum of twenty thousand dollars was diverted into that account, then added a gimmick which would add in some trifling amount from each transaction the bank carried out. Over time, he had explained, this invisible siphon would provide her with a great deal of money.

When he’d finished, she had left with Hardesty. As they walked out, she had instructed the bank manager, “No one must know about this arrangement, Peter. You will do anything you have to do to keep it secret. Everything must appear perfectly legitimate.”

Of course Hardesty had agreed.

All in all, she’d been quite satisfied.

Frank was waiting for her, sitting in the heavy captain’s chair in front of the desk which took up one corner of his dorm room.

“Good news, Frank honey,” she informed him cheerfully. “I’ve arranged it so I have money now. That means I won’t have to stay here much longer.”

“You . . . you won’t?” Frank sounded almost afraid. “You’re going . . . away? But what—what about me?”

“Oh, Frank honey,” Luci answered. “You want what I want, don’t you? Of course you do.”

“Of—of course . . . I do,” Frank repeated. Luci had conditioned him to respond to that phrase; he’d agree now with anything she said, do anything she wanted, whenever she said the words. As with Hardesty and her victims before her banishment, she’d found it helpful to install such a trigger.

“Then you want me to have a place of my own, don’t you,” the succubus suggested. “Of course you do.”

Frank agreed helplessly and squirmed in his chair. A bulge appeared in his trousers and grew amazingly.

“Then let’s hear no more about it,” she ordered. “Don’t worry, Frank honey. You’ll still get to see me—both of me!” With her last words, she shifted into her demon shape.

Frank squealed wordlessly in delight and squirmed where he sat.

Lilibat gloated. She had questioned Frank carefully under trance after going home with him the night of her summoning, and had learned that one of his secret turn-ons was a sexy cartoon devil-girl very like herself, complete with horns, red skin and tail. He wanted to be controlled by her, used by her, while she looked like this.

“You’ll help me pick out a place tomorrow, won’t you, Frank?” Lilibat coiled her tail around one thigh as she spoke, and Frank squealed again. He shuddered, and a small wet spot appeared at the front of his pants.

He panted, “Yes. Please. Help you . . . pick out a place. Please let me . . . help. Oh, help . . . please. . . .” He looked up at her, begging. ”Please. . . .”

She gave him what he wanted. She undressed him right in his chair, taking her time about it while he shivered and moaned in pleasure. Then, when she was done, she led the helplessly hypnotized and wildly aroused young man over to his bed, eased him down onto it and settled down atop him. His body rammed against her, driving into her, and she rode him to climax while he babbled incoherently.

Once he’d spent himself, Frank dropped limply back onto the sheets and was asleep almost immediately. Lilibat eased herself off him and sat for awhile in his big chair, arms draped over its armrests and legs neatly crossed. As a demon, she’d found she needed very little sleep.

Gazing across at her mortal summoner, who was now her puppet, Lilibat smirked. She didn’t require Frank’s aid to find a place to live. It appealed to her, though, to let him plead to serve her. After all, he’d called her from Hell to be his servant; too bad for him he’d been careless enough to let her turn the tables.

Abruptly, she became aware of a new presence in the darkened room. A familiar presence.

“Asmodiel?” she asked. “My Dark Lord?”

“Yes, it is I,” the presence confirmed. “You needn’t worry that I’ll wake your mortal plaything. Even if you hadn’t quite thoroughly worn him out,” and the presence smiled an evil smile which was the only thing even Lilibat could see of it in the shadows except for two glowing eyes, “and even if he were not now quite thoroughly under your power, he could not perceive me. After all, I’m not here physically as you are.”

Lilibat nodded. She remembered how her demon mentor had manifested himself to her alone on a few occasions before her exile from Earth. “Why have you contacted me?”

“I have been watching you,” the other explained. “I’m quite pleased with the beginning you have made since your return to the mortal realm, even though you have not yet sent Down any fresh souls.”

Lilibat started to protest. Asmodiel interrupted her. “No, my dear, that was not a criticism. You needn’t rush. I wish only to caution you against overconfidence. As you recall,” and the deep voice turned stern, “that was how you were defeated before.”

Reluctantly, the succubus nodded again.

“I remind you,” the demon lord continued, “because I can guess at some of what you mean to do. You intend to face Dr. Fatakis and his aide once more, and destroy them.”

“Yes, milord Asmodiel.” Lilibat bared her teeth.

“Then take care,” the other warned. “Recall that because of your mistakes last time, Rita Hawkins is now immune to your powers. If you wish to subjugate her, you will need to find other means.”

The voice fell silent for a moment, then concluded: “A final warning. Our kind’s powers give us great advantages in dealing with mortals, but they also impose weaknesses. In particular, beware one thing: our bargains with mortals are as unbreakable for us as for them.” The eyes blazing from the darkness shifted toward the bed. “A deal is a deal, as the mortals say—even a bad one. Take care!”

“I shall, Dark Lord.” Lilibat wasn’t quite sure what her master and lover meant, but she appreciated the warning.

“See that you do, my dear. See that you do!” And with that, the presence was gone.

Demons are immortal, but do not have the patience to go with an endless existence. Patience, after all, is a virtue. Sitting in the dark waiting for Frank to regain consciousness was profoundly boring to his satanic mistress. Presently, therefore, she began scanning the bookshelves which lined the room, searching for something to read. There were Frank’s textbooks, of course—but of course not! Fortunately he also had an assortment of novels, mostly mysteries. She selected one and began to read.

She was still reading when Frank woke up at six-thirty. When he opened his eyes he saw her, in demon form, lounging in his captain’s chair, cloven-hoofed feet crossed on his desk to one side of his computer and tail draped over one armrest. When she heard him stirring, she swung around gracefully, ankles still neatly crossed, and faced him. Her hooves hit the floor with a soft thump.

“I hope you slept well,” she said. (Actually, she was sure he had. She’d leaned over and whispered a command for him to do so just as his eyes were closing after sex the night before. Of course he would have obeyed.)

“Yes, I did,” he answered. He sat up and stretched, then rolled over and thumped his feet onto the floor.

“Then after breakfast, let’s go find me an apartment,” she suggested. After a sexy shrug that made Frank breathe faster, she assumed her human guise again.

“That’s amazing,” the youth said. “Even knowing what you are, that’s amazing.”

Luci smiled at him. Frank sounded so normal this morning; no one would guess that his mind was no longer his own.

The two of them dressed quickly and headed out for breakfast. As Luci Ferra, the demoness had all the physical needs of any ordinary human. She was very hungry.

At Luci’s suggestion, they went off campus to eat. The pairing of student Frank Willis with a glamorous mystery woman would attract too much attention if they used the cafeteria. She was not ready for that.

Frank was hungry too, but he watched with admiration as Luci put away a stack of pancakes, several fried eggs, a big slab of Canadian bacon, a tall orange juice and most of a pot of coffee. For him, the scrambled-egg special offered by the diner they’d chosen had been quite enough.

“Wow,” he said. “Don’t they feed you—ah—where you’re from?”

Luci laughed. Gulping another mouthful of food, she answered, “Actually, no, not usually—but we don’t need it. I guess now that I’m”—like Frank, she avoided saying where she’d come from—“back here, and”—she gestured at her body—“like this, I’m making up for lost time.”

When they’d finished, Frank paid the bill and they left. Admiring eyes followed them; more than one of the restaurant’s male patrons wished he were in Frank’s position.