The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Luci was sitting on the edge of the bed when Jennie stirred, smiled, stretched, and finally opened her eyes. The rays of the rising sun were slanting in through the picture windows at the front of Luci’s bedroom.

The relaxed, happy look on the black girl’s face shattered as memory of the previous night returned. She bolted upright, seizing the rumpled bedspread in a futile attempt to cover her nude body.

“Oh, my God!” she cried. “Oh, my God! I didn’t—I couldn’t have—it had to be a dream!” But the look in her eyes said she knew it hadn’t been.

Luci had flinched as if flayed at Jennie’s invocations of the Deity. Being a demon, she reflected, certainly had its drawbacks. She remembered the old chant from Susan Jones’s childhood, “Sticks and stones will break my bones, but names will never hurt me.” Now, names could hurt her—her own could be used to control her, and those of her master’s heavenly Opponent could really burn.

Luci looked into Jennie’s wide, frightened eyes. “Calm,” she commanded. “You’re calm, relaxed.”

Jennie whispered, “Calm. Relaxed.” The tension drained visibly from her body. Her eyes lost their wild look.

“There,” announced Luci. “That’s much better, isn’t it, Jennie doll.”

“Much better,” Jennie agreed. After a moment, she added, “It was that pill, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, that’s right,” the succubus admitted. “The pill was something called Nirvana. It made you want to do anything you were told, no matter what. Even I can’t make you do that, Jennie, but the pill did it.” She grinned. “A . . . friend of mine, someone I met at a party, gave it to me.”

“Even you can’t—!” Jennie put two and two together. “You’ve been making me do things all along, though, haven’t you? And fixing it so I wouldn’t know.”

“Yes, I have,” confessed the she-demon. “You helped me meet your manager, for instance, and now he does what I want too.”

“You told me to take the pill,” Jennie realized. “You told me to, and I just did it. And then—!”

“And then you screwed me like there was no tomorrow, Jennie doll,” Luci finished. “With the Nirvana in your system, it didn’t matter that you’re not a lesbian; all that mattered was what I said to do and feel.”

“Oh, my God!“ Jennie said again, her artificial tranquility broken—and again, Luci flinched. It was time, she decided, to put a stop to this.

“Don’t say that again,” she ordered. “Don’t say the G-word, or anything like it, when you’re with me.” She caught Jennie’s gaze and pushed with her power. “I don’t like it.”

“I . . . I understand,” Jennie said weakly. “I won’t say . . . what I’m not supposed to say . . . again.”

“Tell me, though, Jennie,” the devil-woman asked, “how did it feel, last night?”

“Oh, it was great! It was better than anything I’ve ever felt!” Beneath the dark tone of her skin, Jennie flushed. “I know it was wrong, but . . . it felt so good! Not just the sex”—she flushed a deeper color—“but doing what you said. Every time I did something you said, it was . . .” Words failed her and she fluttered her hands helplessly.

Luci’s eyes flared evilly. It was true, just as Tom had said: even after coming out of it, Nirvana users remembered obedience as having been overpoweringly pleasurable. Small wonder if it were easy for them to become addicted. Contemplating Rita Hawkins, she licked her lips.

“Get up, Jennie doll, and get dressed,” Luci commanded. “It’ll be time for you to go to work soon enough.”

Jennie obeyed.

“Come on out into my kitchen and have breakfast,” Luci told her when she was fully clothed. Again, Jennie obeyed. Luci had fixed eggs, toast and coffee; both of them ate lustily.

At last, brushing crumbs from her mouth, Luci addressed Jennie again. “Jennie, when you go in to work, I want you to forget what happened yesterday.” Her eyes caught and held those of the mortal female, who sighed in surrender. “Remember only that you helped me with some banking-related matters. No one will question you too closely about it, because I’ve told your Mr. Hardesty to accept that explanation for your absence.

“But whenever you hear my voice addressing you as ‘Jennie doll,’ you will remember everything and do as I order until I let you go. You will do this because it will mean you may get to have the pleasure again, and you’ll do anything for even a chance of having the pleasure again. That’s true, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Jennie sobbed. “Oh, yes. I’ll do anything.”

Luci smirked. From what Tom Dennis had said, Nirvana could be addictive after only a couple of doses. Her suggestions just now had reinforced the drug’s hold on Jennie, so that she was hooked now after only the one tab she’d taken. And in turn, as she’d demonstrated last night, the drug would make the young black woman obey even commands she would normally find completely unacceptable.

“Anything,” Jennie repeated. “I’ll do anything. . . .”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Luci reached over to run a hand through Jennie’s hair. “I want you to know, Jennie doll, that you’ve been very helpful to me. And it makes you feel so good to be helpful to me, doesn’t it, Jennie doll.” Luci’s eyes blazed, drawing Jennie in deeper. Deeper.

“Yes.” It was barely a whisper. “Feels so good . . . to help you.”

“I’m glad we understand each other.” Luci looked at her watch, an expensive model she’d bought with Frank Willis’ money. “It’s time to go to work now, Jennie doll. I’ll drive you. When you arrive at the bank, you must remember only what I told you to remember. Will you do that for me, Jennie doll?” Her eyes blazed as she reached out mentally to prod the pleasure centers of Jennie’s brain.

Jennie squealed and gasped, “Yes, Luci! Oh, yes! Remember only . . . what you told me to. Yessss!“ She shuddered and clamped her thighs together.

After dropping Jennie off at the First Union Bank, Luci drove across town to the campus of Freedom Christian University. She had some business to take care of there.

Her first stop was the Alumni Association. In the five years since her banishment Below, her former playthings would of course have gone about their lives. Jerry Chisholm and Brad Connor would have graduated, but the university might well know where they were now. When more pressing matters had been dealt with, she intended to look them up.

Jerry, it turned out, was working in the late Reverend Charles Kellogg Bryer’s evangelical organization, now renamed the Lee Spirit-Filled Ministries after Bryer’s successor, Mississippi’s own Reverend John Calhoun Lee. He was traveling at the moment, touring Africa on one of the Reverend Lee’s highly-promoted overseas “crusades.” Luci felt a pang of regret. Ah, well, she consoled herself, I can always catch up with him later.

Brad, by contrast, was—Luci hissed with glee—right here at FCU. He hadn’t been quite good enough a player for pro football, or smart enough for a good “regular” job. So when the university had offered him a place in its sports department, on the coaching staff, he’d jumped at it.

First things first, though.

She strolled over to the administration building and headed for the dean’s office. She had no trouble finding it; she’d spent enough time there as Susan Jones, both before and after her bargain with Asmodiel.

The receptionist was someone new since Dean Mather’s time, a chilly blonde who wore her hair tightly bound. As Luci came in, she looked up from reading a religious tract. Craning her neck a little, Luci saw its title: THE DAY OF THE LORD’S WRATH IS COMING: Will You Be Ready?

The blonde fixed Luci with a cool stare. “Yes?” she asked. “Do you have an appointment?”

Luci met the other’s ice-blue eyes. “No, I don’t,” she answered. “But he’ll see me.”

She concentrated. The secretary’s eyes widened and lost focus. “Call him now and tell him Ms. Luci Ferra is here to see him. Tell him it’s very important.”

“Yes,” the other woman answered. “Of course.” She did as she had been bidden. After a few seconds she went on, “Dean Hinton will see you now.”

Luci went on in, casting a speculative glance back at the blonde. The woman was actually quite good-looking in a severe sort of way. Perhaps she’d make a good candidate for a dose or two of Nirvana. After all, the more people she could corrupt, the easier it would be to destroy this outpost of self-righteousness.

Dean Hinton looked up as Luci entered his office.

“It is you,” he said. “The woman from that party.” He turned pink.

“You mean the party where you got blotto drunk and had to be helped home?” Luci inquired in a syrupy tone. “Yes, you’re right.”

Hinton’s face darkened further. “What do you want here, Ms. Ferra?”

“You,” she answered bluntly. Then she moved in for the kill.

“Look into my eyes, Dean Hinton,” she instructed. Her victim obeyed. “That’s right, just look into my eyes, and listen to my voice, and relax, yes, look, and listen, and relax. Look deeper, deeper, listen to my voice and lose yourself in my eyes, yes. . . .”

To Professor Joseph Hinton, it was as if he’d stumbled in front of a pair of brilliant searchlights, dazzling pinwheels which filled his vision and drew him in. His office was gone; there were only the twin whirlpools of beautiful light, and a wonderful voice telling him things, explaining everything. After a little while, the two lights flowed together into a single gorgeous spinning tunnel of light through which he plunged forever. It was heaven. . . .

Luci looked at Dean Hinton and smiled. He sat there with glazed eyes, a thread of saliva beginning to stretch downward from one corner of his slackly open mouth. He was deep, deep in trance.

Inspiration struck her.

“Dean Hinton,” she addressed the helplessly hypnotized man in front of her, “I’m going to ask you some very personal questions, and you’re going to tell me the truth.”

“Of . . . of course,” Hinton droned. “What do you . . . want to know.”

“Your secretary outside, Dean Hinton,” Luci responded. “What’s her name?”

“Greta Nordquist,” Hinton answered. “Her name is Greta Nordquist.”

“You find her attractive, don’t you? Very attractive. You want her, don’t you? Remember, you must tell the truth.”

Hinton sighed. “Yes. Very attractive.” After a moment, he confessed: “I hired her because she’s . . . very attractive. Because I . . . want her.”

“Have the two of you ever dated?” Luci doubted it. The cool blonde didn’t seem likely to be attracted to someone like Hinton.

“No,” came the answer “I asked her, but . . . she said no.”

“I’m going to do you a favor, Joseph—I can call you Joseph, can’t I?” At the Dean’s eager nod, Luci elaborated. “I’m going to fix it so she wants you too. I’m going to fix it so you can have her. If I do that for you, you’ll do anything for me, won’t you?”

The Dean panted, “Yes. Yes. Do anything . . . if you do that.” He was shivering with desire.

“Then come with me, Joseph.” Luci turned and headed out of the office. Dean Hinton, a massive erection bulging in his pants and a glazed look in his eyes, followed her.

Outside, she got the secretary’s attention. “Ms. Nordquist?”

The ice queen looked up from her reading and met Luci’s eyes. “Yes? I—ooooohhhh. . . .“

“Yes, that’s right,” Luci instructed. “Look into my eyes, Greta dear. Look into my eyes, and relax, and obey.”

“Eyes. Relax. Obey.” The blonde’s habitual stern expression melted along with her will.

Luci handed her a tab of Nirvana and commanded her to swallow it. Greta obeyed mechanically. Within seconds, as the drug hit her, Greta’s breathing shifted into the same deep rhythm Jennie had displayed.

“Answer me truthfully, Greta dear,” Luci commanded. Indicating the dazed man behind her, she asked, “Would you ever date Professor Hinton here? Would you ever go to bed with him?”

“No,” said Greta. “Never. He’s not my type.” Hearing her, even in his own trance state, Hinton winced.

“Yes, he is,” Luci contradicted her. “You want him, you have to have him, right here and now. You can’t stop yourself.”

Greta’s breathing changed. Her eyes shifted to Hinton, who was gazing at her greedily. ”Nnnooo,“ she moaned, hands coming up to caress her breasts. “Sh-shouldn’t. Mustn’t. Can’t . . . can’t help it, Professor, Dean, Joseph, please. . . .“

She writhed out of her jacket, then pulled her blouse off over her head without bothering to unbutton it. The bra came next.

By the time she got the rest of her clothes off, Hinton was naked as well. Before allowing things to go any further, Luci made a final suggestion to Greta: “Dear, when you have sex with Professor Hinton, you will feel every pleasurable sensation multiplied a hundredfold. It will be overwhelming. When you’re done, you’ll be eager to do anything to be allowed to feel that way again.”

“Yes,” Greta agreed blandly.

“Good girl,” the demoness said. “Now both of you, go ahead. Do what you want to do, and don’t stop—you can’t stop!—until I tell you to.”

Hinton and Greta obeyed. They threw themselves at each other in a frenzy, heaving and bucking. The pair toppled onto Greta’s desk, and their writhing flesh sent books, papers, phone and desk lamp flying. When Hinton came, Greta orgasmed with him; the force of their mutual climax was enough to throw them off the desk onto the floor. Deep in the throes of passion and under Luci’s command to keep going, they didn’t even notice. The succubus watched, reveling in her power over them.

Finally she intervened. “You may stop now, Joseph, Greta. Stop now, and rest.”

The pair fell away from each other, gasping. Two sets of glassy eyes closed in utter contentment.

Luci allowed her slaves to bask in the afterglow of their exertions for a few minutes before issuing her next instructions. When she spoke, it was to both of them.

“Joseph. Greta. Sit up now, please.”

They sat up.

“Open your eyes and listen carefully.”

Hinton and Greta opened their eyes, focused on Luci, and listened carefully.

“You enjoyed what just happened, didn’t you?”

The Dean and his secretary moaned agreement.

“You’d do anything for it to happen again.” It was not a question.

“Anything,” two voices whimpered in unison.

“Then what you must do for me is help me distribute this.” Luci pulled out the packet from which she’d taken the tab she’d used on Greta. “This is what the university needs, more than anything. It helps people do things they would never be able to do otherwise. You understand that especially, don’t you, Greta dear?”

“Yes,” the blonde whispered. “Oh, yes.”

“Then you both agree to help me? To do whatever I say, and especially to help me distribute this to others on campus?”

“Yes,” the mesmerized man and the drugged woman chorused. “Do whatever you say. Help you distribute the pills.”

“That’s good, Joseph, Greta.” Luci reached down and patted the pair on the heads like an indulgent mother caressing her children. “Now what you need to do right now is get up and go back to work. Tell no one what happened here. I will come to you with more of these tabs, which are called Nirvana, and when I do, you will arrange for others to try them. When they do, you will help me persuade them to distribute the Nirvana to even more people. Do you understand, and will you obey?”

“Yes,” Joseph and Greta chanted. “Of course.”

“Good. Then do as I’ve told you to do, now, please.”

Like puppets on strings, Joseph Hinton and Greta Nordquist rose to their feet. Mechanically, they collected their cast-off clothes and dressed themselves. Then, smiling vacantly, they went to their desks, Hinton automatically closing his office door behind him. Greta picked up everything they had flung off her desk and put it back as it had been; by a near miracle, neither her lamp nor her phone was broken.

Luci left, satisfied. Assuming Tom and his unknown suppliers could provide enough tabs, she could break FCU in a matter of weeks. Her only real weakness, last time, had been her incomplete control over women—but with Nirvana on her side, that was no longer a problem

And once things really got rolling here at good old Fuck U, it would be time to deal with Fatakis and Hawkins. All she needed to do was get their attention—and once they came to investigate, they’d be hers.

Dean Hinton blinked.

What in the name of God had just happened? He’d been talking with that Ferra woman, and the next thing he knew, he and Greta Nordquist had been acting out his deepest fantasies all over the reception area! Thank God nobody had actually seen them!

But . . . Ms. Ferra had been there, hadn’t she? Yes—and she’d given Greta something, some drug, that had made her do everything the other woman told her to. And then Ms. Ferra had told the two of them to have sex, and they’d done it, and kept doing it, until she’d told them to stop!

God, it had been glorious!

He remembered Ms. Ferra asking the two of them, afterward, to help her distribute more of this drug—Nirvana, that was what she’d called it—on campus. He remembered agreeing, and hearing Greta do the same.

But drugs were bad, weren’t they? Hadn’t he always thought so?

Hinton remembered the pleasure, and the bad thoughts went away. Of course he’d do what Ms. Ferra wanted. She’d promised to let him have Greta again, and he’d do anything for that.

“Anything,” he whispered.

Greta Nordquist blinked.

What in the name of God had just happened? Dean Hinton had come out of his office with the redhead who’d asked to see him before. Greta frowned; she didn’t remember letting the woman in to see the dean. Anyway, the two of them had come out, and the woman had given her some sort of yellow pill with a smiley-face marking on it and told her to swallow it, and for some reason, she’d obeyed.

And then—!

It was crazy. After taking the pill, it was like she couldn’t say no. It had just felt so good to do as she was told, no matter what it was! And the redhead had told her she wanted sex with Dean Hinton more than anything, and suddenly it had been true. The woman had told the two of them to . . . to fuck each other right there, until she told them to stop—and they’d done it!

And it had been wonderful! Greta nearly came again just from the memory. Nothing else had mattered until the redhead—Ms. Ferra, that was her name—told them to stop. And after, she’d told them to help her give the drug, the . . . Nirvana . . . to others, and she’d been eager to say yes. Hinton had agreed too, she vaguely recalled, although she’d been too lost in the lingering pleasure to pay much attention to him. Ms. Ferra had promised that if they did what she told them, they could have the pleasure again.

And she wanted it. Desperately. Greta remembered what the sex had felt like, and the different but equally strong pleasure she’d experienced whenever she had obeyed one of Ms. Ferra’s orders.

She knew that the redhead was drawing her into something evil. Selling drugs? Drugs that could make people do absolutely anything, feel anything, they were told to? She ought to call the police! But . . . that would mean she’d never feel those feelings again, and she’d do anything to have those feelings again.

“Anything,” she whispered.

As Luci had commanded, Tom Dennis contacted her with the price for the tabs he’d given her. It was over fourteen thousand dollars, but with her “in” at First Union Bank, that was no trouble for her. Shortly thereafter, he visited her apartment and gave her several more packets.

“My suppliers were quite pleased,” he informed her. “I let them think I sold it all myself, and thanks to the cash you came up with, I was able to pay them in full.” He reached into the briefcase he’d brought with him, in which he’d brought Luci’s new supply of Nirvana, and pulled out a fat brown envelope. He offered it to her.

“Your cut,” he announced. “I get twenty percent of what I sell; since you helped me, I’m giving you twenty percent of what you sold. Twenty-eight hundred dollars.”

“That’s very nice, Tom, sweetie,” Luci said. Instead of taking the money, however, she reached up, unbuttoned her blouse and stepped out of it. She wasn’t wearing a bra; the massive, firm globes of her breasts didn’t really need one.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Tom stammered, staring at Luci’s rack as she’d expected.

“Just proving a point, sweetie,” Luci answered. Her right hand came up, cupping the breast on that side and raising it; long, polished nails framed its stiff nipple. “Suck my tit, Tom sweetie, and forget everything else.”

“I—wait, I . . . " Tom’s voice trailed off. Like a zombie, he stepped forward, then bent over Luci, covering her bare breast with his mouth. He sucked. “Mmmm. Mmmm.“

As Tom Dennis continued to nurse, Luci brought her hands up to gently stroke his hair. “That’s it, baby. Suck away; you’re a sucker for Luci, aren’t you?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“That’s what I thought, Tom, sweetie.” Luci kept on stroking Tom’s hair with one hand, while the other went up to brush lightly at her own. “Now as I was saying, I’m just proving a point. Would you like to know what that point is, Tom, sweetie?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“The point is, Tom, sweetie, I’m the one in charge. I think we both agree on that, don’t we?”

“Mmm-hmmm!“ The answer was emphatic. Eager.

“Now Tom, the thing is, if I’m in charge, don’t you think I ought to get the eighty percent, and you the twenty, instead of the other way around?” She wanted a more articulate answer this time, so she gently lifted Tom’s head. His lips came away from her nipple with an audible pop.

“Yeth,” he lisped. “You sh’d get th’ eighty . . . p’cent. Oooohhh. . . .”

“That’s what I thought, Tom.” Luci raised Tom’s chin until his eyes met hers again from under heavy lids. “And who’s in charge?”

“You—oooh! You are! You are!” Tom shuddered in the grip of a sudden, helpless orgasm. When it finally ended, he hung his head, gasping.

“I’m so glad we could come to an understanding, Tom,” Luci said. “From now on, whenever you feel like disagreeing with me, I want you to remember what just happened. I want you to remember it as if it were happening all over again, and I want it to make you as helpless as you are right now. Will you do that for me, Tom, sweetie?”

“Yes,” Tom agreed.

“And if you ever hear me say, ‘You’re a sucker for Luci,’ Tom, you will feel the same way and will do exactly as I say, because I’m in charge and you’re a sucker for me. You will do this even if you only hear me over the phone. Do you understand, and will you do as I’ve asked?”

“Yes. I understand and will . . . do as you’ve asked.”

“That’s a good boy, Tom,” Luci said. “And because you’ve been a good boy, I’m going to reward you.” In an instant, she was Lilibat.

Tom came to her eagerly. Clothing was quickly discarded and the two of them fell onto Luci’s—Lilibat’s—big bed. The she-fiend began amusing herself with the trick she’d learned earlier, stroking the key spots on Tom’s back with her tail barb and sending him into a rigid paralysis of ecstasy. He couldn’t speak; his limbs and rod stood out at mechanical attention. His eyes rolled up into his head, and the only motion he could manage was a joyous shivering.

At last Lilibat relented, disentangling herself from Tom and ending her tail massage of his spine. She didn’t want him dropping dead on her, at least not yet.

With a gasp of relief, the blond man relaxed. His eyes closed, and he was asleep in seconds. He slept through the night.

When he woke in the morning, Luci tested his new program. “Tell me, Tom,” she asked casually, “who’s in charge?”

He answered immediately: “You are, Luci. You are in charge.”

“That’s right,” she responded. “You’re a sucker for me, aren’t you, Tom. You’re a sucker for Luci.”

“Ohhhhh,” Tom breathed. He swayed toward her, eyes unfocused. Smirking triumphantly, Luci opened her blouse to bare one breast. Tom stumbled over, placed his puckered mouth over the exposed nipple and began to suck. Soon, he shuddered and came.

When she detached him at last, she had to lead the smiling man to a chair and carefully seat him in it. It was several minutes before his awareness of reality returned. When it finally did, he whispered, “Thank you, Luci . . . thank you. . . .”

Luci’s new understanding with Tom Dennis did a lot to bolster her bank account. Before long, in fact, she had to pay another visit to Peter Hardesty. With his help, a set of confidential accounts was created to shield most of her money from the prying eyes of such interlopers as the IRS.

A number of federal laws were bypassed in the process; if the authorities ever learned what the banker had done, he could go to prison. He didn’t care, though. He would do anything, anything at all, for his Mistress Luci. His systems expert Aaron Lieber was similarly anxious to please her.

Luci’s stealthy campaign to spread Nirvana was breaking other laws as well, of course. She didn’t care about that. Was she not Lilibat, demon of desire? She was above mere human law!

The one drawback was that so far, Dr. Fatakis and his bimbo sidekick hadn’t shown up. Very well; she knew how to force the issue.

Luci was busy screwing a mesmerized Dean Hinton when the door to his office banged open and his wife charged in. The dumpy middle-aged woman took one look at what was going on and screamed.

She lunged at Luci, hands clenched into claws. Luci climbed off the desktop where she and Hinton had been working each other ad intercepted the Dean’s wife, calmly catching the woman’s wrists in her hands. Behind her back, Hinton continued to buck and thrust mechanically, unaware that his lover had left him.

Luci shifted form, becoming Lilibat, and smiled a demon’s smile at Mrs. Hinton. The mortal woman shrieked again and seemed about to faint. Lilibat forestalled her.

“No,” she commanded. “Don’t faint.” Her eyes burned orange. “If you do, you’ll leave your husband alone with me, and you don’t want that, do you?”

“No,” gasped Mrs. Hinton. She didn’t faint, but the world seemed oddly far away.

“You can’t stop me by yourself,” Lilibat told her. “You need to get help, right away.”

“Yes,” agreed Mrs. Hinton. “Help.” Then, in a worried tone, “Where?”

“There is a man called Dr. Fatakis. Dr. Nicholas Fatakis.” Lilibat let go of the other woman’s wrists. Mrs. Hinton let her arms drop to her sides and stood passively. “You will contact him, and tell him you have seen the demon Lilibat at Freedom Christian University and that she is spreading her influence there. You will describe my appearance and say that I changed form right in front of you. If you call him and say these things, he will come here and save your husband, make me go away. And you will call, won’t you?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Hinton said. She nodded.

“Here is Dr. Fatakis’ address and telephone number,” Lilibat said, and gave the Dean’s wife the information. The Doctor had been easy enough to find through the Internet. “You must contact him immediately. You must do it without telling anyone else what you saw here; if you told anyone else, it would start a panic. And besides,” she smirked, “if you told anyone else, everyone would know your husband had been unfaithful to you—and with a creature of darkness. You don’t want that.”

Tears in her eyes, the other woman sobbed, “No, I don’t.” Drawing a ragged breath, she went on, “I’ll call Dr. Fatakis right away.” She turned and ran out of the office, not even bothering to close the door and without remembering that her husband was still there with the succubus.

Lilibat shut the office door and smiled triumphantly. All it had taken was one phone call from Greta Nordquist that her husband needed to see her right away, and the stupid cow had come running. Once she’d seen Luci with Joseph, and seen her transform into her demon shape, the woman had been easy to program to “get help.” The she-demon’s suggestions had been perfectly in line with Mrs. Hinton’s natural inclinations; she’d hardly had to use her powers at all.

She turned her attention back to Dean Hinton, who was still bucking blissfully on top of his desk, dick in the air. Climbing up, she mounted her stupefied stallion once more. As she settled onto him, he whinnied in pleasure.

Rita Hawkins hung up the phone, frowning. The woman on the other end had been hysterical. She’d sounded like just another of the hundreds of crank callers she and the Doctor had to deal with every year in their work.

Except . . . Rita remembered the Lilibat case. That had been for real, and had cost several people their lives. She and Dr. Fatakis might have been among the casualties if the demon hadn’t gotten careless.

The serious-faced brunette shuddered as she remembered how Lilibat had gained control of her, forced her to stand helplessly by while the demoness fought to strengthen her hold on the Doctor. When he had resisted, aided by his mystical skills, Lilibat had finally made a mistake, commanding Rita to break the pentagram and let her out. If she’d obeyed, the demon would have been able to enslave Dr. Fatakis completely.

Rita had refused. Releasing a demon was so deeply offensive to her moral sense that she couldn’t do it. When Lilibat, furious at her disobedience, had commanded her to kill herself, that had been the final straw. The enchantment holding her had been broken—and the succubus’ distraction had weakened her control of the Doctor just enough to let him complete her banishment. After that, the mortal body of Dr. Susan Jones, the fiend’s human host, had crumbled to dust like a vampire in the sun.

And the call had come from Freedom Christian University, where they’d faced the succubus before.

Pressing her lips together in a tight line, Rita picked up the phone again and punched the speed-dial number for Dr. Fatakis’ cell phone.

“Dr. Fatakis?” she said when he answered. “I think we have a situation. . . .”