The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Naked amid the tousled sheets of Luci Ferra’s king-sized bed, Lilibat and Rita Hawkins explored each other’s bodies. With the tab of Nirvana she’d been force-fed bubbling through her brain, a fevered Rita clasped at the satanic seductress, running her hands eagerly through the demon female’s luxuriant mane of red-black hair. Every sensation was magnified by the drug and reinforced by the sensory reward it tricked her body into offering whenever she obeyed a command.

Lilibat had found she could use her barbed tail to evoke ecstasy in males under her supernatural control, and under the influence of Nirvana, Rita proved equally excitable by it. As the leathery barb danced over her spine, Rita squealed and thrashed, powerless to control herself. At last the sharp point jabbed at just the right spot, and Rita went rigid, arms and legs splayed, head thrown back and teeth clenched. The succubus held her that way for most of a minute before releasing the pressure. When she finally did, Rita sagged atop her. The human woman sighed in bliss and closed her eyes.

But her demon conqueror wasn’t done just yet. She clasped Rita to her firmly and her tail came up once more, this time insinuating itself between them to probe between Rita’s legs.

“Mnnghh!“ The occult investigator was startled by the unexpected feeling as the snaky appendage entered her. “No, what—!”

“You like that, don’t you, Rita sweetie?” Lilibat observed. “Of course you do. Feel the pleasure.” It was a command.

“Ooooh! Yes! Yes!“ Rita’s body and mind obeyed the she-devil’s suggestion. She shrieked in ecstasy, again and again. Soon, her cries were wordless; soaring through realms of unimaginable sensation as her body thrashed wildly, she was no longer capable of speech. And Rita’s writhings, like the desperate struggles of a fish on the hook, aroused Lilibat herself, until finally she, too, exploded in orgasm.

After that, the two females rested quietly for a little while. In their frenzy, they had switched positions, so that Lilibat had ended up on top, the position she preferred. Rita lay with her lips pressed to one of the demon’s nipples, nibbling mindlessly and shivering with drug-enhanced enjoyment.

Finally, Lilibat roused herself and addressed her human plaything.

“Rita, sweetie,” she said, propping herself with one hand so that she could look down into Ms. Hawkins’ eyes, “how do you feel?”

“Won’ful,” Rita slurred. “Feel jus’ . . . won’ful.” She yawned widely. “Sleepy.”

“You can sleep in just a little while,” Lilibat promised. “But before you go to sleep, I need you to listen to me. You’ll do that, won’t you?”

“Yes,” mumbled Rita.

“In the morning, when you wake up, you will remember everything that happened tonight.”

“Yes.”

“You will remember how wonderful I made you feel. You will want to feel that way again.”

“Yes.”

“But you must not tell anyone what happened.” Lilibat looked stern. “If you tell anyone, I won’t be able to make you feel that way again. Do you understand, Rita sweetie?”

“Yes Lil’bat,” the brunette slurred. “Un’er . . . stan’.” Her eyes were closed.

“One more thing,” Lilibat told her. “Just one more thing before you drift off into a deep, happy sleep.

“From now on, whenever I say the words ‘Stop, toy Rita,’ you will stop whatever you’re doing and wait silently for my next command. When I say ‘Go, toy Rita,’ you’ll be able to move and speak again. And of course, you mustn’t tell anyone I’ve given you these commands.”

“Yes,” Rita murmured. “Stop, toy Rita. Go, toy Rita. Mustn’t tell.” She yawned again.

“Such a good girl, Rita.” Lilibat stroked her sleepy slave. “You may sleep now. Sleep, Rita.”

Rita slept.

Lilibat pursed her lips thoughtfully. Since her first encounter with Tom Dennis, she’d done some reading on the Net about Nirvana. One interesting bit she’d picked up was that its power extended to what might be called “post-narcotic” suggestions, commands a subject would carry out even after the drug itself wore off. She’d been eager to try that with Rita. In the morning, she’d see if it worked.

If it does, she gloated, I’m going to have a lot of fun with our Ms. Hawkins.

Rita Hawkins swam slowly up from the depths of sleep. She broke the surface with a happy sigh and opened her eyes. She was relaxed, totally at peace.

Then memory returned.

“Oh, my God!“ she screamed. ”Oh, my GOD!“ She leaped out of bed in a panic and ran for the door, forgetting she was naked. All she cared about was escaping that apartment.

Lilibat watched her, viciously amused. Just as Rita got to the hall door and reached for the knob, the she-demon spoke. “Stop, toy Rita.”

Rita froze. The knob was inches from her outstretched hand, but she couldn’t grasp it. She couldn’t move a muscle. Even her face was locked in the frightened expression she’d worn at the moment she’d heard the words.

Lilibat walked around her paralyzed plaything like a visitor to an art museum inspecting a sculpture. Rita, she saw, was absolutely immobile, her body obeying the command she’d been given.

“Well, well,” she said. “It really does work.” It wouldn’t last, if what she’d read was accurate; such commands gradually faded unless reinforced. But it would hold long enough. And if things went as she planned, Rita Hawkins would soon be permanently enslaved. After a few more tabs, she’d be desperate to obey.

“I’m going to release you in a moment, Rita sweetie,” she said in a voice like poisoned honey. “Before you dash out of here, though, perhaps you’d better get dressed? I won’t keep you here.

“Just make sure Dr. Fatakis is at his apartment this afternoon. If he isn’t, well . . . what if I were to find you, say the words to make you freeze like this, and then just leave you that way?”

Rita couldn’t move, couldn’t even whimper in fear. Her body knew only that it must remain absolutely still. She didn’t know that the temporary nature of the “freeze” command made the succubus’ ugly threat an empty one.

“Go, toy Rita.” The mockery in the demon-female’s voice was acid.

Rita burst into motion. Sobbing, she snatched up her clothes and threw them on under the hell-bitch’s gaze. Then she threw open the door and ran through it.

Demonic laughter followed her.

Lilibat changed form, becoming Luci Ferra again. She dressed in a tight white blouse, snug red jacket, matching short skirt and glossy black stilettos, deliberately provocative.

Several phone calls later, she set out for the FCU campus. She had unfinished business there.

Her first stop was the dean’s office. A quick stare into Greta Nordquist’s eyes and the starchy secretary was lost in la-la land, smiling vacantly and humming to herself. Hinton was in, and, she was pleased to note, a couple of sheets to the wind already. His bleary eyes brightened when he saw her, though.

Luci hung her jacket over a chair. “Good morning, Dean Hinton.” She smiled at him.

“Ms. Ferra,” he greeted her. “G’morning.” He put down the half-empty bottle in his hand.

She looked into his eyes and observed, “You’ve been a good boy, I see, Dean Hinton. You’ve been drinking, just as I told you to.”

“Y-yeah.” Hinton lost himself in her gaze, swimming eagerly down into the wonderful whirlpool of colors he saw. “Drinkin’. Like you said.”

“And have you and Greta been passing along the Nirvana tabs I’ve given you?”

“Yes. Sh-shurr. We’ve been passin’ ‘em along, jus’ like you shaid. Said.”

Luci smiled. “And have you been using the tabs yourself, on Greta? You know they’ll make her do anything.”

Hinton blushed faintly. “Yeah. Sh-sometimes. She wants ‘em now.” He turned a deeper red as he confessed, “Sometimes we play a game. I don’t give her one, an’ she tries to se-duce me into giving it. She always shuc . . . succeeds, o’ course.” He hiccuped and grinned a stupid grin.

Luci’s smile widened. By now, Ms. Nordquist would be so addicted she’d stand naked in the street selling her body, if that was what it took to get another tab—and she’d enjoy every minute of it, too, just from the thought of the high to come.

She thought of Rita Hawkins. Another few tabs and Rita, too, would be eager to do anything, willing to believe or feel anything, for another dose.

She looked at her watch. Another fifteen minutes should do it. She had time for a bit of fun.

Languidly, she reached for her shirt and began unbuttoning it.

Hinton gasped, his attention suddenly drawn away from her eyes. As she slithered out of her blouse, exposing her magnificent bare breasts, his jaw dropped.

The skirt went next, leaving Luci standing clad only in a tiny thong and her glossy spikes. Hands on hips, she swiveled back and forth to give Hinton a good look. He moaned happily.

Soon both of them were completely naked and writhing together on the Dean’s soft carpet. Hinton was simply an obedient mass of flesh, driven by reflexes and sensory stimuli. He hardly noticed when Luci shifted into her demon shape in order to use her tail on him, though he felt the rough, leathery barb sending shivers of ecstasy through his nervous system as it traced expertly up and down his back.

He was in the throes of his second orgasm when the office door banged open.

“Harlot of hell!” Mrs. Hinton spat. “Demon bitch! How dare you call to boast of what you were doing with my husband!”

Lilibat only smiled, rising to her feet.

“And you!“ Tears rose in Mrs. Hinton’s eyes as she glared down at her husband. “Letting her practice her wiles on you!”

Lilibat addressed the Dean. “Practice makes perfect, doesn’t it, Joseph?” Hearing the devil-woman use her husband’s first name only made Mrs. Hinton angrier.

“Perfect,” Hinton sighed in answer, only slowly drifting back toward reality. “Yes. You’re perfect.”

That did it. With an inarticulate scream, Mrs. Hinton pulled out a gun. “I can’t stop her,“ she sobbed, “but I can stop you!“ She pointed the weapon.

“Margaret! No!” Dean Hinton was fully conscious now, and terrified. Still naked, he tried to stand up. As he did, he caught sight of Lilibat, and his body betrayed him: in an instant, he had a rampant erection.

That did it. Margaret Hinton pulled the trigger.

There was a loud, echoing bang, and Dean Joseph Hinton dropped. He was dead before he hit the floor, his heart pierced.

Mrs. Hinton looked at the body, then at the gun. Without another word, she put the muzzle in her mouth and fired again.

Lilibat surveyed the carnage calmly. As she watched, a ghostly form stood up over the corpse of Joseph Hinton.

To her dismay, it rose into the air, disappearing through the office ceiling. ”Damn it!” she swore.

“I’m afraid not,” a familiar deep voice said. “Flawed though he was, Joseph Hinton was no Caleb Mather or Charles Bryer. Those Above have claimed him for their own. Remember, what he did under your power does not stain him, since it was not done freely.”

Lilibat turned and found herself facing her demon lord Asmodiel. He stood proudly nude, towering over her, as he continued, “But behold!”

He gestured toward the motionless form of Margaret Hinton. Lilibat followed his wave and saw a spectral edition of the Dean’s wife standing above her mortal remains. The phantom’s feet blended into the dead body.

It looked around for a few moments, a stunned expression on its face. Then it dropped out of sight, arms flailing upward and mouth opening in a silent scream.

“Murder and suicide,” pronounced Asmodiel. “And both carried out of her own free will. Your original compulsion, which forced her to contact the authorities, had nothing to do with this. She did it all herself. That you goaded her is not enough to excuse her sin.” He chuckled. “Our Mrs. Hinton will be warmly received Below.”

The two demons laughed together.

“Congratulations,” Asmodiel said. A mortal would have found his smile terrifying. “You have taken another soul.” He gazed on the succubus and added, “Each such capture adds to your credit in our realm, you know. In time, with enough souls taken, you will earn greater powers. In a few millennia, your abilities could even equal my own.”

“Something to look forward to,” Lilibat said, and the devilish duo laughed again.

Asmodiel sobered. “For now, I’ll take my leave,” he said.

“As you wish, Dark Lord,” responded Lilibat. She bowed her head before her hellish master.

Asmodiel nodded and vanished.

The succubus changed back into her human form and put her clothes on, then left the Dean’s office, closing the door gently behind her. Outside, Greta Nordquist was still at her desk. She was nodding, smiling and singing softly, “La-la-la-la-la, tra-la-la-la-la.”

Luci caught her gaze, and the secretary was instantly riveted. She went utterly still, a rabbit facing a snake.

“That’s a good girl, Greta,” said Luci. “Now listen to me very carefully. Listen, and do as I say.”

“Yes.” Greta nodded slowly. “Listen . . . very carefully. Do as . . . you say.”

“I’m leaving now,” Luci told her hypnotized subject. “As soon as I’m gone, you’ll forget I was here. In fact, you’ll forget you ever met me, and remember only if I tell you to. It’s all right to forget, Greta; you don’t need to remember about me, unless I ask you to. You’ll get up and go into Dean Hinton’s office.”

“Yes,” Greta sighed submissively.

“You will then awaken, fully alert—but remember, you must forget all about me, until I command you to remember!—and when you see what is in the Dean’s office, you’ll do what seems natural. Do you understand, and will you obey?”

Greta nodded again.

“That’s a good girl, Greta,” Luci repeated. Reaching into a jacket pocket, she pulled out a small packet of Nirvana tabs and handed them to the other woman. The spellbound secretary accepted them. “Consider these a reward.”

“Thank you,” murmured the bewitched blonde.

Luci turned and left the Dean’s reception area.

Greta blinked. What had she been doing?

There was something in he hand. Looking down, she saw it was a small zip-seal plastic bag containing a number of yellow smiley-face tablets.

What the—! Ms. Nordquist hurriedly stashed the bag in her desk. Can’t let just anybody see me with that stuff! She couldn’t seem to remember where she’d gotten that baggie. She puzzled over it for a second or two, then forgot about it. It was all right to forget; she didn’t need to remember.

But she’d been about to do something, hadn’t she? Oh, yes, of course—she needed to go into Dean Hinton’s office.

She walked in. Strangely, the Dean didn’t seem to be sitting behind his desk as usual. But she’d been sure he was in. . . .

She looked around.

Presently, when campus security arrived to investigate the screaming, they found her standing wide-eyed and white-faced over the carcass of the late Dean Joseph Hinton, with the body of his wife a few feet away.

The investigation quickly established that Greta hadn’t been responsible for the deaths. She hadn’t touched the gun Margaret Hinton had used; only the Dean’s wife had left fingerprints on it. Hinton himself had evidently had sex shortly before his death, but not with Mrs. Hinton—and not with his secretary, either, as tests showed when a shell-shocked Greta Nordquist allowed herself to be examined. Not until the following morning, however, would Ms. Nordquist finally be released from custody.

Meanwhile, Luci’s other phone calls did their work.

Frank Willis had been studying hard when his desk phone rang. He picked it up in irritation, prepared to give his caller a quick brushoff. He never got the chance.

“Frank?” It was a woman’s voice, sultry. “Frank Willis?”

The young man stiffened. He knew that voice! Memory flooded back: the summoning, and everything afterward. “Yes.”

“Do you know who I am, Frank?”

“Yes. Luci. Lilibat.” Frank’s voice was level. Prompted by her use of his name, Frank’s programming activated.

“Are you ready now, Frank honey, to obey me without question?” Luci’s voice had flowed from the phone sweetly, seductively.

“Yes. I will obey without question.” Frank was helpless, re-enslaved the moment he’d heard that voice. Luci Ferra and Lilibat might look and sound different, but Frank knew they were the same—and just as Luci had known, that awareness meant both voices held the same power over him. Both were the voice of his lover, his goddess. His mistress.

“That’s a good boy,” Luci said. “Now listen carefully, Frank honey. This is what you must do.”

Frank listened. When Luci finished, he nodded. “Yes, Luci. I understand.”

He hung up the phone.

Shortly he left his dorm room. His studies could wait. He had things to do. Places to go.

Jennie Morgan had been tidying her desk when the outside-call light flashed on her phone. She didn’t recognize the number on the digital display. She picked up the handset.

“Jennie doll,” the voice on the other end said, “I need you.”

“Yes, Ms. Ferra,” Jennie responded, falling happily into the warm place where there was only obedience. Since their first meeting, Luci had worked carefully on her, using her powers and the smiley-face tablets to train the bank clerk to complete slavery. The phrase “Jennie doll” now brought that training into play. “What must I do?”

Luci told her. Anyone watching would have seen nothing but a customer service person responding to a call; Luci had even instructed Jennie to call her “Luci” only when she couldn’t be overheard, and “Ms. Ferra” otherwise.

“Yes, Ms. Ferra,” Jennie responded when Luci was done. “Right away, Ms. Ferra.”

She got up from her desk and headed for the time clock. She needed to leave, right away. Luci needed her. And besides, she’d promised her another tab of Nirvana. Jennie would do anything for that.

Walter Karendren had been packing for his return for Washington when the phone rang in his hotel room.

“Who could that be?” he muttered. Not his superiors, surely; he’d already explained to them that he’d found nothing, and they’d ordered him back to headquarters. Baffled, he answered the call.

“Hello, Walter,” a rich feminine voice said. It seemed to coil out of the phone like thick aromatic smoke. “I need you to do something for me, just as we talked about. You will, won’t you, Walter?”

“Of . . . of course,” the Division Six operative stammered. Unlike others under the demon seductress’ power, he had no trigger phrase, but he didn’t need one. He had simply been instructed to do anything she asked, and Luci’s instructions were the highest authority he knew. “Please, just tell me what you want. Please.” That voice was beautiful, its owner was beautiful; obedience was beautiful.

Luci told him what he was to do. When she finished, he nodded. “Of course.”

He could return to Washington a little later. He had things to do here first.

Luci Ferra pranced gleefully across the lush carpet in her living room. It was all working out perfectly. Soon her mortal enemies would be her eager slaves, freeing her to extend her influence further.

Already she had taken a measure of revenge—destroying that fool Hinton and his priggish wife, turning Rita Hawkins into her puppet, spreading moral corruption through Freedom Christian University, which had been so smugly exploitive of her former human self. She’d even reclaimed dear, handsome, stupid Brad Connor.

And this was only the beginning, she promised herself. Once she had enthralled Dr. Fatakis and consolidated her grip on his assistant, the things she’d do . . . ! Her eyes blazed yellow as she imagined how she’d abuse and degrade the occult detective and his pretty girl Friday and make them beg for more, and how much more she could do to others.

But first things first.

Luci left her apartment, got into her car and drove across town toward the address Rita had given her. If the girl had obeyed orders, the Doctor should be there, and unaware of the trap about to close around him. Presently she arrived and parked.

Dressed in a tight knee-length sheath, white jacket, black gloves and black high-heeled pumps, and with her thick glossy red hair piled atop her head, she was an eyeful. Several men saw her as she got out of her car and made her way toward the main entrance of Fatakis’ apartment building; they stared, and a couple whistled.

As she had expected, Frank, Jennie and Walter were there, cooling their heels. She had commanded each of them to come here and wait for her to arrive. She had uses for them. At her gesture, they came over and fell into place behind her.

Luci felt one small twinge of dissatisfaction. Unfortunately, both Brad Connor and Tom Dennis had been away when she’d called them at the numbers they had given her. And she’d already arranged things for this afternoon; resetting her trap for a later time, just so all her pets could be present, was more trouble than it was worth. Dealing with the Doctor as soon as possible was more important than perfectly stage-managing his destruction.

The place Fatakis had made his base wasn’t as fancy as the Stafford Arms, but it was upscale enough to have a uniformed doorman. He whistled appreciatively as he saw her.

“What may I do for you, Miss . . . ?” He was the picture of professional politeness. Handsome, too. As she looked at Luci, he sucked in his gut and struggled to look as tall and ramrod-straight as possible.

“Luci Ferra, darling,” she answered, amusement in her voice. She caught his gaze and brushed one of his smoothly-shaven cheeks with a gloved hand. “Is there a Dr. Nicholas Fatakis residing here at present?”

“Uhhhh,“ the doorman murmured, falling joyfully into her eyes. Then, in a dazed tone: “Let me check—yes, there is. . . . Suite 14A.” He blinked glassy eyes and asked, “Shall I . . . an-nounce you?” His expression pleaded for her to let him do her that favor. He fell deeper, deeper into her eyes, surrendering himself absolutely.

Luci stroked his cheek some more and answered, “No, darling, that won’t be necessary. Just let me and my friends here inside. Don’t tell him we’re coming; I want it to be a surprise. Please, you can do this for me, can’t you? Pretty please?” She fluttered her eyelashes, toying with him.

“Yes,” the uniformed man moaned. “Yes.” He turned and opened the door. Luci stepped through, followed docilely by the others. They had no idea what she was planning. All that mattered was to obey.

“You’ve been such a good boy,” Luci told the doorman, brushing his cheek a final time. “When we’ve gone up in the elevator”—she could plainly see the elevator bank down the hall—“I want you to forget we came here. When I come back down, I want you to let me out, along with anyone else I bring with me, and forget you saw us.”

“Yes,” came the response.

“As a reward, once I have left this building, you will experience a powerful sexy fantasy about me. It will be wonderful. You will lose yourself in this fantasy for at least fifteen minutes, and come at least once. When it’s over, you will remember it, and me—but you will remember me only as a fantasy, one you would do anything to meet in real life. You will not remember that you actually did meet me, or what I told you to do. Do you understand, darling?”

“Yes. Oh, yes,” the uniformed man breathed. ”Thank you. . . .”

Smiling wickedly, Luci turned away and led her entranced entourage down the hall.

Five minutes later, they were standing in front of the door to Suite 14A. A fancy brass knocker was set into the door at about Luci’s eye level; she used it energetically.

A few moments later, the door opened. Rita Hawkins gasped faintly when she saw who was on the other side.

“Do let us in, Rita sweetie,” Luci cooed venomously. “And tell the Doctor he has visitors. Just don’t say who we are; I would hate to have to punish you.”

Rita made a small sound deep in her throat, then said, “Come in.” There was defeat in her eyes.

Luci stepped across the threshold, gloating. Her demon nature required her to obtain permission before entering any home, or any private building; she had been able to enter the First Union Bank and the Stafford Arms only because their lobbies, at least, were public places, and once in, she had “persuaded” people to grant her full access. It had been the same here; if there had been no doorman, she could not have entered the building even if the main door had been wide open—not without an invitation. And if Rita hadn’t yielded (but of course she’d had no choice), Luci and the rest would have been unable to enter Fatakis’ apartment.

“Dr. Fatakis,” Rita called out, “there are some people here to see you.”

“Thank you, Rita,” the Doctor’s voice answered from the next room. There was the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Thank you, Rita,” Luci repeated mockingly. “And as a reward . . .”

She brought out a little plastic bag. As Rita saw it, and what was in it, her eyes widened. She took half a step forward, and reached out.

She stopped.

“No,” she gasped. “I won’t. I, I mustn’t.”

“You will,” Luci disagreed. “You must. But first—stop, toy Rita,”

Just like that, Rita went still. Luci strolled over to her and took the Nirvana tab out of its bag. Using two fingers of one hand, she propped Rita’s mouth open, and with the other, she popped in the tab. She let go of Rita’s mouth and stepped away.

Just as she did, she heard a male hiss of dismay. “Rita!”

The demon seductress turned to face the man who’d sent her to Hell. “Don’t waste your breath,” she advised him. “She can’t help you this time.”

Fatakis struggled to keep from looking at her. He knew her power; even restrained by a pentagram, she had nearly taken him over last time. Even his mystical training hadn’t protected him enough. Only with Rita’s help had he escaped her clutches.

“Don’t bother fighting it, Doctor. Nicholas.” She made his name a caress. “You can’t resist me, you know that. No man can.”

“R-Rita,” Fatakis wheezed. “What have you . . . done to her? You can’t . . . !”

“Control her?” Luci laughed. “Not with my powers, no. My own blunder last time saw to that. But there are other means.”

She held up the empty baggie which had held the tab she’d put in Rita’s mouth. “Nirvana, Nicholas. As I speak, it’s flowing through her. You know how it works; she can do only what she’s told—and she will do whatever she’s told, and love it.” Luci smirked. “She set you up, you know. I ambushed her earlier, forced her to swallow a tab, and programmed her. This is her second dose; after this, she should be hooked for real.” The she-fiend’s eyes glowed. “And I’ll have you, as well. I don’t need the tabs for that, do I, Nicholas?”

“N-no-o-o,“ Fatakis moaned, unsure whether he was trying to defy her or agree. Despite himself, he looked toward her, eyes roaming over the glamorous contours of Luci’s body.

“That’s right, Nicholas,” Luci coaxed. “Look at me. You like looking at me, don’t you? I’m so beautiful.” Her voice slid to a throaty purr. “There’s nothing wrong with looking, is there. Nicholas? Any man would, isn’t that right? Go ahead, look.”

Fatakis looked. His resistance crumbled as blood flowed away from his brain to regions lower down.

“Look into my eyes now, Nicholas,” came the command. “Yes, that’s right. Look into my eyes, and relax, and forget about resistance, forget about everything but me. Forget.”

“Forget. . . .” The Doctor’s voice was soft and dreamy as he looked into Luci’s eyes.

“Kneel, Nicholas,” the succubus commanded.

Dr. Fatakis knelt.

Luci reached down and stroked his head. Then she threw back her head and laughed wildly.

A moment later, she was Lilibat. She laughed again as she stood over the groveling form of her adversary.

It was perfect, she gloated. The man who’d sent her Below now knelt at her feet. The one mortal immune to her power stood passively waiting to obey any order she might give. The youth who had summoned her was her willing slave. She even had a government agent—she cast a smoldering glance at Walter Karendren—under her power, something with definite possibilities. And once the Doctor was broken, she could take her time with Tom, with Brad—with Jerry Chisholm, too, when she caught up with him. With everyone.

Her mind filled with visions of vixenish villainy, the succubus said, “Let the games begin!”

Nothing could stop her now.