The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Luci knew what she wanted in an apartment, and she knew just where to find it. She had Frank drive her first to the bank, then to the Stafford Arms.

The Stafford was a high-class residential hotel on the other side of town from FCU. Built in the nineteen-twenties, it had escaped the downward slide which turned so many once-elegant places into seedy dives. It provided lavish suites for its occupants, quite a step up from the simple one-bedroom apartment Susan Jones had occupied. A number of the city’s wealthiest and most influential men lived there, an added plus from the succubus’ point of view.

Of course, there was the little matter of getting its management to accept her as a tenant. If she had still been human, mere good looks and money wouldn’t have been enough. But as things were, she expected no problems.

The manager, a Mr. Braithwaite according to the nameplate on his door, was a distinguished-looking older man, thin, with neatly-combed white hair and sharp gray eyes. When his assistant ushered Luci and Frank into his office, he looked them over skeptically.

“What may I do for you?” he said at length.

“I’d like to rent one of your suites, please,” Luci answered. “I understand several are available.”

“That is true,” Mr. Braithwaite admitted. “The vacant apartments range from three thousand to five thousand per month, with two months’ deposit required in addition to the first month’s rent.” His tone suggested he didn’t believe Luci could come up with the money.

That was what the bank trip had been for, though. With a flourish, Luci produced a thick roll of hundred-dollar bills and carefully counted off ninety of them. When she was done, she thumped the fat wad of cash down on Braithwaite’s desk. “Will this do?”

Braithwaite stared at the money as if it were a snake. It took a visible effort for him to turn his attention back to the woman in front of him. “Y-yes,” he stammered, “that will do.”

He pulled himself together. “However, you must understand, the Stafford Arms does not accept just anyone. We are obliged to consider an applicant’s background before allowing him or her to move in here.”

“Luci Ferra,” of course, didn’t have a background. That didn’t matter. She removed her sunglasses and gazed intently into Braithwaite’s eyes.

“But you want me to live here, don’t you?” she asked him. “You want me to live here. Come on, Mr. Braithwaite, say it. You want me to live here.”

Braithwaite nodded, eyes riveted on Luci’s glowing orbs. ”Want you . . . to live here.”

“Of course,” Luci responded. “That’s right, keep looking into my eyes, Mr. Braithwaite, and listen to me. You want me to live here. You want me to live here because you want me.“

“Oh, God, yes.” Luci winced slightly at the hotel manager’s choice of words. “But—” Braithwaite objected weakly, “I, I shouldn’t. I’m, uh, uhh! whatchacallit—married, that’s it. Yes. Married.”

Perfect, thought Luci. Then fooling around with her would wreck that marriage, and perhaps tempt the wife into doing something sinful herself. She’d have to make sure they got caught.

To the hotel manager, she said, “That doesn’t matter. You want me; that’s all that counts.” Keeping her eyes on his, she turned, showing off her body in the revealing clothes she was wearing.

“Uhhh!” Braithwaite was shuddering in his seat. ”Nnnghh—want you! All that counts! Yes! Yes!“ His eyes were wide and wild.

“Then you’ll accept me as a tenant?” Luci had no doubt of the answer.

“Uhh! Uhh! Of course!” Braithwaite was breathing raggedly now.

Luci turned to Frank. “Wait outside, please, Frank,” she directed. Without a word, the youth turned and left.

The hotel manager summoned enough awareness to ask, “Is . . . he going to be staying with you?”

Luci laughed. “No, Frank’s just a pet. I mean a friend. He’s got a place of his own.” Turning back, she added, “You’ll forget he was here today, won’t you? For me?” She fluttered her eyelashes.

“Forget he was . . . here today,” Braithwaite panted.

“But he may be visiting me sometimes,” the demon seductress added. “If he does, it will be perfectly all right with you.”

“If he visits . . . it will be perfectly all right with me.” Braithwaite nodded, accepting Luci’s instructions.

“Then let’s seal our bargain, shall we?” Luci’s smile was dazzling.

“What, uhhhgh! did you . . . have in mind?” the hotel manager gasped. His face glistened with sweat.

“Sex,” Luci told him. She giggled playfully. “Let’s fool around. Right here, right now.”

Shuddering with lust, Braithwaite reached for her.

“Ah-ah-ah,“ she admonished him, shaking a finger in his face. “Let’s get undressed first, shall we? When we’re both naked, we can take our time.”

Braithwaite hurried to remove his clothes. Luci, as she’d done with Peter Hardesty at the bank, undressed more slowly, tantalizing the man watching her. She could sense him falling deeper and deeper into a sexual trance as he stared—sense it, see his erection growing, and hear the way his breathing shifted until it matched the rhythm of her movements.

An hour later, after bringing Braithwaite to several climaxes, she spoke to him as the two of them sprawled on his office floor. “What’s your first name, honey?”

“Ned,” Braithwaite responded drowsily. “My first name’s . . . Ned.”

“I see.” She tilted his chin with one slim forefinger, guiding him to face her. “Ned, you like the way you feel right now, don’t you?”

“Mmmm. Yes.”

“That’s what I thought. Now listen carefully.” Luci’s eyes blazed as she brought her powers to bear. “From now on, whenever I say your first name, you will do whatever I say, think whatever I tell you to think, until I release you. Do you understand, and will you do as I say?”

“Yes,” Ned said. “Understand. When you call me Ned . . . I must do and think . . . whatever you tell me to. Yes.”

“You will do this because it will mean we will have sex again, and you will have this feeling again. And you’ll do anything to feel this way again.”

“Yes,” whispered Ned. “I’ll do anything . . . to feel this way.”

Luci reached over and ruffled the hotel manager’s pale hair. Then she calmly dressed and left the office. As she departed, Ned Braithwaite began to dress himself.

Frank looked up as his demon mistress emerged from the manager’s office. “How did it go?” he asked.

“How do you think?” she answered. “I’ve got the place I wanted.”

Luci looked over at the cubicle where the manager’s secretary sat. “Excuse me, miss,” she said.

“Yes?” The secretary, who had been filing her nails, looked up. As soon as her eyes met Luci’s, she froze like a rabbit in front of a snake.

“What’s your name, dear?” Luci inquired.

“Paula,” came the answer. “Paula Petrosino.”

“Paula, dear, I need to talk to this young man for a few minutes,” Luci told her. “You will ignore us completely, as if we had never been here. You will pay no attention to anything we say or do until I say the words, ‘As you were.’”

The other woman’s eyes went dreamy. Her head bent down and she went back to filing her nails.

“That should do it,” Luci announced. “Now we’re alone, or might as well be. I can tell you the rest of it.”

“The rest?”

“Of course, Frank honey.” She gave him a condescending look. “I picked this place not just for the accommodations but for who else lives here. All sorts of local bigwigs stay here, either full-time or part-time. Living here myself will give me access to them, and soon they’ll serve me just the way you do.”

Frank thought about that, and his eyes widened. “You’re . . . building some sort of power base, aren’t you?”

Lilibat nodded, pleased. “That’s right, Frank honey.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully and went on.

“Unlike more senior demons, I have only limited powers,” she explained. “I can—influence people, of course, once I’ve met them face to face. As you know.” She dimpled. “But that is very nearly it. I can change form, as you’ve seen, between this appearance and”—she switched quickly into her demon shape—“this one.” Frank panted at sight of his fantasy female. Smirking, she changed back. “And when I was mortal, I had another shape as well, one I have not used in years.”

Frank interrupted. “You were mortal? I . . . I don’t understand.”

While the hotel manager’s secretary calmly continued working on her nails, Luci explained, telling her summoner and slave the full story of her origin for the first time and finishing: “After my banishment by that meddling magician, my demon master arranged for references to me to be magically inserted into various texts, appearing as if they had always been present. Then he looked for someone who could be guided to invoke me . . . and that’s where you came in.”

“Then I was—forced to call you up?” Frank’s voice was unsteady.

“No,” Luci answered. “You were already planning to perform a summoning ritual. You were merely guided to my own. After that, it was your free decision to summon me rather than another.” She smiled. “And here I am.” She treated Frank to another quick glimpse of the demon form he found so alluring.

“Ohhhh,“ Frank breathed. He struggled to regain focus. “I . . . I understand.”

“But come now, Frank honey,” Luci directed. “It’s time to leave.” Frank nodded.

Turning to Paula Petrosino, who was still robotically filing her nails in her seat outside the manager’s office, the sinister seductress said, “As you were, dear.”

The secretary left off her manicure job and looked up. She blinked. “Excuse me? Did you say something?”

“Nothing important,” responded Luci. “My friend and I are leaving now. I’ve spoken with your boss, and will be moving in.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Paula acknowledged respectfully. “If there’s anything I can do to help, I’ll be happy to.”

“Yes,” Luci said, “I’m sure you will.”

With Frank in tow, she left.

Luci’s moving job was simplified by the fact that she had almost nothing to move. The luxury suite she had obtained was already furnished, and the only clothes she owned were those Frank had bought for her the day after her conjuration. She settled in quickly, familiarizing herself with her new place. Then she set out to assemble a wardrobe, taking Frank with her.

It was a measure of how deeply in her thrall Frank was that he found this shopping expedition exciting. Of course, it helped that Luci modeled her purchases for him, earning the disapproving stares of some store clerks. The offended salespeople made no trouble, though; one glance into Luci’s eyes and they forgot their objections. Frank eagerly paid for everything she bought until he had maxed out every credit card he owned; only after that did Luci begin drawing on her own money.

By the time they’d finished, the sun was setting. A panting Frank Willis drove Luci back to the Stafford Arms and carried her acquisitions up to her suite for her. Under her direction, he unpacked the clothes and put them carefully away.

When he was done, he turned to her and asked eagerly, “Is everything okay?” Looking into her eyes, he pleaded, “Can I do anything else for you?” It was very obvious what he was hoping she’d say; the front of his pants bulged outward aggressively, and his face was flushed.

Laughing and pointing at the evidence of Frank’s arousal, Luci said, “My, you’re a horny boy, aren’t you? You need a horny girl, isn’t that right?”

She changed shape, becoming Lilibat again. Frank’s breathing went fast and shallow, and his mouth fell open. When he tried to speak, all that came out was “Uh. Uh. H-h-horny. . . .”

An hour later, she untangled herself from the youthful slave who had meant to be her master and commanded him to get dressed. As he obeyed, she put her own clothes on—a new set: a red pantsuit with plunging neckline and white slippers. She had to change back to Luci for the suit to fit properly, since it wasn’t cut to accommodate a tail, but that was no problem; she was finished playing with her favorite human toy for now.

When Frank finished dressing, he stood waiting patiently. The sex they’d had seemed to have driven him deeper into trance; his face was utterly tranquil and his arms dangled loosely at his sides as he awaited his mistress’s next instructions. When Luci passed her hand in front of his eyes, there was no reaction.

“Frank, can you hear me?” she asked. He was so far under, she wasn’t sure he could.

“Yes,” he answered. “Hear you.”

“You feel wonderful, don’t you, Frank honey?”

“Yes,” came the response. “Wonderful.” Frank smiled.

“I’m so glad, Frank,” Luci told him. “I need you to do something for me now. You will do it because you feel wonderful.”

“Yes,” agreed Frank.

“I need you to go home now, Frank.” Luci reached up to caress Frank’s face. “I need you to go home and go back to your regular life.” She stroked the sides of her slave’s face rhythmically. “You will go home, go back to your old life and not think about me at all until I contact you. You will not remember summoning me, or what we’ve done together since then, until you hear my voice speaking your name. When you hear that, you will remember everything and you will be ready to obey me without question again. Do you understand, and will you obey?”

Frank was briefly silent, as if his stupefied mind needed a while to process his new instructions. Then he nodded and said, “Yes. Go home. Go back to my . . . regular life and . . . forget summoning you and . . . what we’ve done together . . . until I hear you say . . . my name. When I hear you say my name . . . I will remember everything . . . and I will be ready . . . to obey you without question again.”

“Very good, Frank honey,” Luci cooed. “You may go now.” She waved one slender hand toward the door.

Frank walked out, glassy-eyed and blank-minded. All he knew was that he felt wonderful.

Luci made a point of introducing herself around the apartment complex. Ned Braithwaite and Paula Petrosino were very helpful. After a couple of weeks, she knew everyone.

By then, the money tap her programmer slave at the bank had installed had replenished her bank account. First Union was a big bank, and Aaron Lieber hadn’t limited his program to the single branch where she’d established her account; it was drawing on every transaction made in any branch anywhere. Before long it might be necessary to find ways of concealing the money. If so, she was confident that Lieber could be—persuaded—to help.

It was at the Halloween costume party she arranged for the Stafford’s residents that Luci was reminded of the unfinished business she had left behind her when she’d been sent Below. One of the residents had invited Professor Joseph Hinton, dean of Freedom Christian University, as a guest.

Spotting him, Luci smiled wickedly. Hinton had been a colleague of Susan Jones. After the mysterious demise of her department head Professor Joshua Carstairs, most people had expected him to assume the dead man’s position. Instead, after a little chat with the newly empowered Dr. Jones, Dean Mather had picked her instead. Now here he was in Mather’s place.

She slithered over to him.

Dean Hinton was a short, egg-bald man with thick, round glasses. Behind their lenses, his eyes popped as he saw her. She had chosen to appear as Lilibat, donning only a skimpy flame-orange bikini with a tail-slit as a concession to mortal society. She had already received several compliments on her “devil costume.” But for Hinton, a devout Christian fundamentalist, it was clearly disturbing.

“Well!” he huffed after several seconds of staring. “I understand that festivities like these a certain amount of . . . ribaldry is to be expected. But if I’d known I’d be exposed to evocations of Satan—of Satan and of lust—I’d not have come here.”

The man who’d invited him, a local television executive, intervened. “Now, Professor,” he soothed, “I’m sure Ms. Ferra meant no offense.” He waved around the room. “Look at who’s here. Do you think all these people would have come, if they thought she was the wrong sort of person? Those of us who live here know her, after all.”

Not as well as you think, Luci said to herself, even if better than you know. She had already had several of the men in the room; she’d even allowed most of them to remember it. None of them suspected what she really was.

Hinton nodded reluctantly. “I suppose you’re right,” he conceded. Facing Luci, he murmured, “My apologies.”

Gazing steadily into his eyes, Luci responded, “Apology accepted, Professor Hinton.” The Dean’s eyes widened and a slack smile spread across his features.

Looking over at the TV exec, she said, “I’d like to show Professor Hinton around, if I may. You don’t mind, do you?”

The media mogul mumbled, “I don’t mind.” By reflex, he stepped away from Hinton. Luci took the Dean’s arm and steered him away.

She guided him toward the refreshment table she had set up.

“Here,” she said, offering him a fluted glass of punch from which a strong alcoholic odor wafted. “Try some of this.”

Hinton was an absolute teetotaler. His idea of a “hard” beverage was coffee. Under Luci’s influence, however, he gulped the punch down.

“There,” she said. “That was good, wasn’t it? Of course it was. You want more, don’t you?”

“More,” Hinton echoed. Luci refilled his glass.

She spoke to him. “Drink up, Professor. Let yourself go. Don’t worry about what anyone else thinks. It’s a party! Have as much as you want! Drink until you can’t find the punch bowl. No one will mind.”

That ought to do it, Luci thought, smirking. Leaving Hinton to get falling-down drunk as she had commanded, she wove her way through the crowd.

A commotion at one end of her living room attracted her attention. A small crowd had gathered and was calling out encouragements to a buxom redhead who seemed to be standing on something. Someone had started a CD player, which was blaring nightclub music.

Luci headed over and pushed into the pack of people. “What’s going on?”

A tall, good-looking blond man grinned at her. “Isn’t it obvious?”

He jerked a thumb toward the woman who was the center of attention. She was dancing to the music and peeling away her clothes, giggling as she wriggled and stripped. Luci could see now that the woman was standing on an end table, the heels of her polished black pumps clicking on the tabletop as she pranced across it.

“Drunk?” Luci was amused.

“Better than that,” the blond guy answered. Reaching into an inside pocket, he pulled out a glassine envelope filled with small round yellow tablets, each of which was decorated with a cross-eyed smiley face.

“What is that stuff?” As Dr. Susan Jones, she had had nothing to do with drugs, and her time Below had not added to her education in that area.

“They call it Nirvana,” answered the blond. “Or sometimes Cloud Nine. It’s the latest party drug, stronger than Ecstasy.”

The woman on the table was naked now except for her high heels, and had dropped to her knees. Her head lolled. Neatly manicured hands lifted her ample breasts so that whenever she nodded forward they were within reach of her questing tongue, which curled snakily around stiff nipples. The men surrounding her egged her on with lewd suggestions, and she obeyed enthusiastically.

“It’s a hypnotic,” came the explanation. “A really powerful one. When you’re high on Nirvana, you’ll do anything you’re told, anything at all. Obeying commands gives you unbelievable pleasure.”

“Real-ly,” Luci murmured. “Anything at all, you say. Obeying gives you unbelievable pleasure, you say. Is it addictive?”

“Not physically,” the blond replied. “But after only one or two doses, most people crave the pleasure so strongly they’ll do just about anything to get more—no matter what you make them do when they’re under the influence.”

Only by an effort of will was Luci able to keep her eyes from glowing with inhuman delight. “Perfect,” she whispered, and in her mind an image of Rita Hawkins groveled in eager submission. “Perfect.”

Most of the guys present were now intent on the drugged girl. Still kneeling, she had leaned forward to seize one of the onlookers by the back of the head and press his face deep into her breasts. Luci, however, had other plans for her fair-haired friend.

She looked into his eyes and asked, “What’s your name, honey?”

A slightly stunned look on his face, he answered. “Tom. M-my name is Tom Dennis.”

“Well, Tom,” she asked, “why don’t we find someplace a little more private? We have things to discuss.” She reached out with her power, drawing her new prey farther in.

Tom stammered, “I-I-I, uh, s-sure. Find someplace . . . more private. We have . . . things to discuss. Uh.” Half-consciously, he added, “Beautiful. . . .”

“That’s right, Tom,” Luci agreed. “Beautiful. I’m beautiful. My eyes are beautiful. Now come with me, Tom.”

She led him into her bedroom and shut the door.

Their lovemaking, once they’d gotten their inconvenient clothing out of the way, was fiery. Luci discovered that she could bring Tom to utter, ecstatic rigidity, arms, legs and penis all standing stiffly away from his body, by stroking just the right spots on his back with the point of her tail. When she finally let him come, his outpouring was explosive.

Presently, as the two of them lay nude and sweaty amid the tangled sheets on her big bed, Luci spoke. “Tom?” she asked. “Are you awake?”

“Yes,” a sleepy male voice answered. “Awake.”

“We need to talk, Tom. Now listen carefully.”

“Need to talk. Listen carefully.” Tom listened, eyes opening as he focused on Luci.

“You’re going to give me the drug, Tom. The Nirvana. You’re going to hand over the tabs you have, because I want them and you want me to have whatever I want. You do want me to have whatever I want, don’t you, Tom sweetie?” Luci fluttered her eyelashes at the big blond sprawled beside her.

“Oh, yes,” Tom sighed. “Whatever you want.”

“Then you’ll hand them over to me, Tom? Just go over and find them in your clothes, take them out and put them on my nightstand. Now, Tom.”

Wordlessly, Tom did as Luci had directed. Afterward, he stood by her bed, waiting for his next instruction.

“Good boy, Tom,” Luci said. “Now tell me, can you get more?”

“Yes,” Tom answered. “I can get more.”

“That’s good, Tom. I want you to get more. I want you to tell your supplier you sold what you had—let me know how much you should have gotten for it, and I can arrange for you to get that much in cash—and that you want more. Can you do that for me, Tom?”

“Yes,” came the response. “I can do that.”

“That’s good, Tom sweetie.” Luci slid off the bed and stood in one sinuous motion. “Now I want you to get dressed and rejoin the party. I’ll be out in a few minutes. Tell no one what we did in here together, or what we talked about; let them use their imaginations.” The demon-woman laughed.

Tom got dressed and left, a woozy smile on his face.

As the bedroom door closed behind Tom, Lilibat smirked. Another male was hopelessly under her power. And better yet, he’d given her the tool she needed to deal with Rita Hawkins once and for all—and with any other female who might get in her way.

She crossed to the nightstand and picked up the two glossy transparent envelopes her newest slave had deposited there. One had obviously been opened, and contained only a few of the yellow smiley-face tabs. The other, though, bulged with them. If they worked as advertised, what Tom had handed over would be more than enough to turn Fatakis’ sidekick into her eager puppet. And without Rita to help him, she could bring the occult investigator to his knees easily enough, as she had almost managed in their first battle.

Her eyes blazed.

A few minutes later, dressed in her bikini again, Luci rejoined the party. The drugged redhead from before was nowhere in sight.

“Oh, a couple of the guys took her home,” one of the guests explained. “She was still pretty high. From what the guy said who gave us the tab for her, she’ll be fine by morning.” He said nothing about the psychological craving Tom had mentioned; Luci wondered if Tom had bothered to tell him. A flicker of amusement lit her eyes as it occurred to her to wonder also if the men who’d left with the girl really meant only to take her home.

Well, it didn’t matter.

She rejoined the party just in time to see a sodden-drunk Dean Hinton being escorted to the door by his TV-executive friend. “Come along, Joe,” the friend was saying. “I think you need to call it a night. I’ll drive you home.”

“Aw . . . awrigh’,” she heard the dignified administrator slur. “Yer a pal, y’know that? Real pal.”

Luci chuckled. Apparently Hinton had obeyed her commands to the letter. He was quite obviously smashed out of his mind. When he woke up in the morning—the late morning, by the looks of things—he’d be humiliated. Good.

The festivities appeared to be winding down. It was no trouble for Luci to talk several of the remaining guests into “helping” her clean up; actually, they did all the work, although each of them believed Luci was doing a share of it. Finally, she sent them on their way.

When she was alone, she threw back her head and let loose peals of wild laughter. It was just too perfect! She’d actually been able to move among the foolish mortals in her true form, without any of them suspecting a thing.

For now, though, the fun was over. A moment’s concentration and her form rippled and flowed into the human one of Luci Ferra. She stepped into her bedroom.

Standing by her bed, she looked thoughtfully down at the packets on her nightstand. Before taking her revenge on Fatakis and Hawkins, she decided, a little test was in order—and she knew the perfect guinea pig.

The next day, dressed in a sleek business outfit, Luci appeared at First Union Bank. It was shortly before noon, and the bank was quiet; the midday rush of customers hadn’t started yet.

Luci was pleased to see that Jennie Morgan was sitting, unoccupied, at her desk. She walked over and spoke to the customer service rep: “Good morning, Jennie.”

Jennie looked up, startled, and smiled. “Oh! Ms. . . . Ferra, isn’t it?”

“That’s right, Jennie,” Luci said, smiling back and looking the bank clerk directly in the eyes. “But there’s no need to be so formal. Please, call me Luci.”

“Call you . . . Luci.” Her eyes riveted on those of the succubus, Jennie relaxed. Her voice went soft and dreamy. “Yes, Luci.”

The demon woman coolly examined the human one now sinking deeper and deeper into trance. Jennie was a slim, attractive black woman in her early twenties, with short, tightly-curled black hair and large eyes. Those eyes looked even larger at the moment as Jennie fell into Luci’s compelling gaze. Almost literally fell: she swayed forward, and Luci gently reached across to steady her.

“I need you to do something for me, Jennie,” Luci said. “I need you to call your manager, Mr. Hardesty for me. When you reach him, give me the phone; I want to speak with him.”

“Yes, Luci,” Jennie said. She picked up the handset on her desk and punched in Hardesty’s extension. “Mr. Hardesty? Ms. Luci Ferra is here, and would like to speak with you for a moment.” She listened for a few seconds, then handed the phone to Luci.

“Yes? Ms. Ferra?” Peter Hardesty’s voice emerged tinnily from the earpiece.

“You want to help your Mistress Luci, don’t you?” Luci asked.

There was a brief silence. Finally Hardesty responded, “Yes, Mistress Luci. I want to . . . help you.”

Luci smirked evilly. Hardesty’s trigger had obviously worked perfectly. The bank manager was now hers body and soul once more.

She had thought it might work, even though Jennie was standing right next to her; she was gaining experience with how minds under her control operated. Since Hardesty himself was alone in his office and she was the only other person he could hear, his “program” considered the two of them to be alone together—so “Mistress Luci” she was, once she’d spoken the words. If it hadn’t worked, of course, she would simply have asked to see him personally again, and put him back under once they were face to face.

“Your customer service representative Ms. Jennie Morgan will be leaving with me for the rest of the day,” she informed him. “You will find nothing wrong with this. Ms. Morgan is merely going to attend to some business.”

“Yes, Mistress Luci,” Hardesty agreed.

“Good boy, Peter,” Luci said sweetly. “When I hang up the phone, you will return to your normal business. You will not remember me giving you orders; you will remember only that Ms. Morgan will be assisting me for the rest of the day. Do you understand, and will you obey?”

“Yes, Mistress Luci,” Hardesty answered meekly. “I understand and will obey.”

“Good boy, Peter,” Luci said. She hung up.

Turning to Jennie, she announced, “We’re leaving now, Jennie doll. Punch out, or whatever you have to do, and come with me.”

“Yes, Ms. Ferra,” replied Jennie. “Of course, Ms. Ferra.”

No one objected as Luci and Jennie left the bank together.

Luci took Jennie back to the Stafford Arms. For what she had in mind, privacy was best.

When she stepped into Luci’s apartment, the bank clerk said, “Wow!” The lavish suite was far beyond anything she could hope to afford.

“Sit down, Jennie doll,” Luci ordered, gesturing toward one of the chairs in her living room. Jennie sat, of course, looking up at Luci.

The succubus sat in another chair, facing her subject, and looked searchingly into her eyes. “Jennie,” she said, “I’m going to ask you a personal question. A very personal question. You’re going to answer me with the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”

“Yes, Ms. Ferra,” Jennie answered. “What do you want to know?”

Luci smiled warmly. “You like women, don’t you? You’re attracted to them. You want to have sex with them. In fact, you want to have sex with me, don’t you?” She pushed with her power, just hard enough to compel her target to answer truthfully.

“What?” Jennie was suddenly agitated. “No! No, I’m not—I don’t—!”

Luci stood up and crossed over to Jennie. Standing over the bank clerk, she reached out to touch her shoulder. Jennie flinched, and tensed as if she were about to bolt from her seat and run for the door.

Luci caught her eyes and said, “Don’t worry, Jennie. I was only asking. You don’t have to do anything like that if you really don’t want to.”

“Thank you, Ms. Ferra,” Jennie sighed, settling back into her chair.

Now for the real test, Luci thought. She reached into her jacket and produced the tab of Nirvana she had pocketed earlier. She held it out to Jennie.

“Here, take this,” she instructed. “Just take it and swallow it, there’s a good girl.”

Jennie took the tab from Luci’s outstretched hand and swallowed it.

As Luci watched, the other woman’s features smoothed into a bland mask. Her pupils dilated, and her breathing settled into a deep, even rhythm as if she were asleep.

Luci asked, “How do you feel, Jennie?”

“I feel won-der-ful, Ms. Ferra,” Jennie chirped.

“Luci,” the succubus corrected her. “We’re such good friends. You must call me Luci.”

“Yes, Luci.”

Luci laughed. “Now, Jennie, do you remember what we were talking about before? About how you’re attracted to women? To me?”

“Yes, Luci.” Jennie giggled.

“Well, it’s true,” Luci went on. “You’re attracted to women. You want to have sex with women—especially me. You want me so badly, don’t you? Of course you do. You want me so badly you can’t stand it.”

Jennie gasped. “Oh . . . yes. Please. I-I want you. Please.“ Her breathing turned ragged and sweat popped out on her forehead.

Luci extended a hand and helped the other woman stand up. “Come on into my bedroom, Jennie doll.”

Squirming with delight, Jennie obeyed.

The next several hours were a fever of action. Jennie and Luci explored each other’s bodies hungrily. There was no trace of Jennie’s former reluctance as she sucked and nibbled at Luci’s breasts before licking her way down to the space between the demon-female’s legs. Reaching her goal, she began to lick frantically, as her hands reached up to claw at the small of Luci’s back and the succubus raked her spine in return. Pleasure shuddered through both of them, again and again, the Nirvana amplifying every sensation for the bank clerk. At last, exhausted and sated, head still buried between Luci’s legs, Jennie drifted off to sleep.

After a bit, a smug Luci got up to take a shower. As the scalding water cascaded over her, she basked in triumph. The Nirvana had been everything Tom had promised.

Thinking of Rita Hawkins and her wizard employer, Luci promised herself that payback would be a real bitch.