The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

i.

There was a question hanging in the air. It was sitting behind the eyes of everyone at the gathering. Jessica looked around her darkened, candlelit living room and the assembled women with unease. They were anxious, eyes moving from picture to picture, person to person, staring into coffee cups that were still full. The movements were almost too casual, eyes never quite meeting, as if there was something gnawing at them. A bit of uncomfortable laughter broke upward through muted whispers.

It was excruciating.

“Everyone ready?” a soft voice called from the doorway. All eyes turned towards the sound. It was Kathy, Jessica’s oldest daughter. At nineteen, her beauty was in full bloom. Jessica looked down, saw what she was carrying, and smiled. Yes. The question was answered. Kathy held the object whose absence had caused their nervous unease. The lamp.

Jessica felt an odd mix of anticipation and relaxation flow through her body. It pressed through her like a best friend, caressing her from the inside out. She looked around again.

The room was transformed. Everyone was waiting now, longing to bathe in the reassuring glow. Something was coming alive, something that energized the entire consort. It wasn’t that all of them were naked, or that only women were present. It wasn’t that some knew each other from church, from work, or that some were complete strangers, brought here by happenstance.

It was that they all looked hungry in the candlelight. Every last one. Ravenous, in fact. It didn’t dawn on any of them that the hunger was new, created within them by some invasive power.

It was natural, after all. There was no reason to question. They loved to obey.

It made Jessica hot. She felt awe and wonder that she had been chosen to show the women here something of such magnificence, in her home, in her living room, with her family present. She felt her pussy gush as a pleasure-wave swept outward from her belly.

Jessica seemed to awaken just a bit from the mass reverie. “Yes, sweetie. Thank you. I think everyone is quite ready.”

Kathy, feeling as distant from her recent past as from her earliest moments, set the lamp on the coffee table and turned it on. She heard the low, throbbing hum as it warmed up. It glowed to life, the swirling pattern erasing even the knowledge that she was watching.

Her eyes went wide, pupils dilated. The dark of the room showed the reflected swirls of the lamp in her eyes. She felt as if her brain was itching, clawing for more of the delicious sensation.

As if with a single thought, the eyes of the assembly turned to focus on the growing light. Long since emptied of furniture save the lone coffee table on which the lamp rested, the room held no barriers to its captivating brilliance.

Jessica shivered in sympathetic lust with the others. ”Yes...“ She’d forgotten just how good it really was.

As the lamp grew brighter, so did the reflections, now so strong that all eyes in the room seemed to be lost behind a haze of swirls.

The bodies of the enthralled women began to move. It was slow, like a ballet performed to music which could not be heard. It continued until they had formed a perfect circle around the glowing object.

The lamp, as if sensing the ritual, shot into brilliance in a split second. Soft white beams like silk lasers shot into the eyes of the adoring women, freezing all motion, turning their eyes into matching orbs of white-hot bliss.

The women stood at rigid attention as the light reshaped their dreams, their thoughts, their desires... and their souls.

They remained in place, soaking up their new existence and directives for hours. Their fingers and toes convulsed in exquisite, perfect unison. Their bodies moved in a dance of learning, bellies and hips undulating as they learned both seduction and acceptance.

And then, with no warning, the light went dark, it’s glow fading, slowly replaced by the yellow light of the candles. The women shook and looked around, the lamp forgotten for the moment. They did not find anything odd in the soft, white light still glowing in their eyes.

As hands began to caress, the beams of white appeared again, connecting woman to woman as their lust grew to new heights. Tongues danced along with fingers, soft moans wafting through the room like music. There was no thought but pleasure, no need but surrender.

As Jessica’s lips met the soft lips of the young, familiar nineteen-year-old next to her, her heart pounded with passion and need. There was not enough of her mind left to worry about who this beautiful girl was. She was only her latest lover.

She proceeded with her seduction of Kathy, as Kathy proceeded with hers, as they had proceeded every night for the last week, each woman sharing in the bliss of every other.

It was natural, after all. There was no reason to question. They loved to obey.

ii.

Marge Hausman stared out her front window. She wasn’t particularly nosy, but she noticed the cars parked up and down the street for the eighth night in a row. First it had been one or two; now, it looked like a full-fledged party. She’d even seen some of the neighbors knocking on the door of the Taylor house.

The weird thing was that there wasn’t any indication of a celebration. The front door sat closed, and nearly all the lights were off. There were no signs of any activity at all. She looked a little harder, and then shrugged. She turned away from the window and walked upstairs.

She turned down the covers of her bed before taking one last look out the second story window. Just for a second, she thought she saw bluish flashes of light in the living room windows across the street. She looked harder... there was something striking about the color, but it was already gone.

She chalked it up to imagination sparked by her curiosity, and lay down in her bed. None of it really mattered anyway, and she was asleep, cuddling with her second pillow before she had taken more than a dozen sleepy breaths.

She woke up to the sound of voices outside. She looked at the clock. Three thirty-two a.m. Curious, she lowered herself to the floor and padded to the window, pulling the curtain back.

Several women were walking to their cars and chatting. She watched two of them stop. They turned, held each other close, and fell into a passionate kiss, their tongues dancing even before their lips touched.

She gasped at the lewd and unexpected gesture. She jerked her eyes up to the door of Jessica’s house and gasped again. Jessica was standing there, looking at the two women and her eyes were, well, glowing.

As if she had heard the surprised intake of air, Jessica’s head turned upward, and she seemed to look directly where Marge stood. No, more than that—Jessica seemed to be staring directly at her.

Marge shook her head and looked again. Jessica was still staring, but her eyes had lost their luminescence. Marge felt blood rush to her cheeks. She wanted to turn, but she felt trapped, as if she were some animal caught in oncoming headlights.

Jessica was smiling. Saying something. Inside her head, a voice from nowhere and everywhere said, ”Soon.“

Marge fainted.

When she came to, she crept to her other window and looked out. Jessica was gone, as were the cars and the two women she had caught stealing a lover’s kiss.

She stood for a long moment, staring at the dim street. She had seen it. It was real. It was... what was it she had seen? Something about Jessica... about the party... it was already disappearing like the wisps of a dream.

Yes, that was it. It was a dream. She had fallen out of bed. That was all that had happened. She felt the remnants still in her. A very sexy dream. She was still horny from it. As she stood in the window, her hands found their way to her nightie, pulling it upward.

A finger pressed in on her clit as she closed her eyes. God, it was so good! So hot! One hand rubbed her belly softly as she circled her distended fuck-button. Where had that word come from? She didn’t care. Pleasure was cascading through her now like a vicious scythe, slicing away her fear of being seen. Her knees felt weak as she trembled at the approaching pleasure. Fuck, it had never been this good!

She opened her eyes. On the street, a small crowd of women watched, eyes glowing, eating into her, melting her into a rubbery doll of lust... and it hit, her silent scream echoing through her head, like the sound of the watching women, all cumming with her, pressing her onward into the eternal Moment of Pleasure, losing all sight and sound, only the itch in her brain telling her that there even was a her, and all else was pleasure beyond anything she had ever...

She came down slowly from paradise and opened her eyes again, flashes of light still exploding in her eyes. She shook from the immense shocks that weaved through the encapsulating warmth of her afterglow.

The street was empty.

She was only a little surprised that she felt a twinge of disappointment.

iii.

Melissa Perkins was livid. She did her best to be diplomatic, but her anger was obvious. “Phil, you don’t understand. I don’t want to do any more feel-good stories for awhile. A long while. I want something I can grab hold of and feel like I’ve done something worthwhile. I deserve it, too. You know I do.”

Phil Drummond looked at the short, black hair and petite frame that had made Melissa one of his most popular on-the-scene reporters. She was already heir-apparent for the nightly six o’clock co-anchor spot. With Hugh Sanders ready to retire, the official announcement had been planned within a month. As head of News Production, he’d had a lot to do with her rise. She owed him at least a little indulgence.

“Look, Melissa. I can’t make you do this. But women love you. Men love you. We can make this story work thanks to you. Normally, a successful woman entrepreneur story will make TV remotes go crazy. But with you, we don’t have to sacrifice ratings because, quite frankly, the men will hang around to watch you wiggle on camera. I know it’s terrible, but it’s also business.”

“I don’t wiggle!”

“Figure of speech. Come on. This woman, Jessica Taylor, specifically requested you. Consider it your parting gift to paying dues.”

Phil was too charming for his own good, damn him. Melissa knew she was going to say yes. But she wasn’t done yet. Still fuming, she asked, “So who suggested this story? It doesn’t sound like something you’d dream up.”

“Marge Hausman, the new hire. Sales. Look, she’s the new Golden Child of the affiliate and is out to prove herself. She had the demographics to prove her case. Apparently, lots of women are watching the news now, while their spouses work late. She thinks this story is a natural.

“I know you’re better than this. But a month from now, you’ll be co-anchor, and you’ll have some say over what you cover. And I could use the help. Marge and I didn’t have the best of meetings.”

“Oh, all right,” she said. She scowled at him with her meanest “don’t fuck with this bitch” look, then laughed as she shook her head. “I don’t know why I’m doing this for you, you heartless prick.”

He ignored it and beamed. “Great! You need to be at her home in an hour.”

She tried to stay angry and couldn’t. Now that the decision had been made, it was time for business. “Anything I need to know about her?”

“Only that she’s charming, well-educated and owns a medical lighting equipment distribution company. We’ll need the tape in a few days. We’re doing a full profile on her. It will air next week. Today you’re only going to meet with her and see what looks like story material.”

“Fascinating.” Melissa rolled her eyes and let out a tiny laugh.

iv.

By the time Melissa arrived at the modest home, she was prepared. Clipboard, tape recorder, and digital camera in tow, she looked like she was showing up to work for her interviewee. She was greeted at the door without having to knock.

The woman who opened it looked much too young to be a successful business woman, but it never paid to make assumptions. “Jessica Taylor?” asked Melissa.

“No,” said the young woman, blushing. “You want my mom.”

“That would be me,” said a voice. Melissa turned slightly to the left to see a thirty-something woman dressed casually, blond hair tied back in a pony tail. “And this is Kathy, my oldest daughter,” she said, gesturing to the young woman who had answered the door. “Very happy to finally meet you, Ms. Perkins. I appreciate your coming out like this. Won’t you come in?”

“Thank you, and please call me Melissa,” said the reporter, smiling as she stepped through the door.

“Of course. And in that case, it’s Jessica. Everyone calls me that anyway. Ms. Taylor sounds so old.”

She smiled, and Melissa found herself smiling back. Phil had been right—she was quite disarming.

Stepping inside, she looked around at the furnishings. There was nothing to indicate wild success—no masterpieces, no thousand dollar couches, no antiques. As they walked into a comfortable study at the end of the hall, Melissa thought it seemed the kind of place that Norman Rockwell might have painted.

“Please, sit down.”

The two women exchanged small talk, and before long, Melissa felt completely at ease with her host. She was a wonderful conversationalist, listening, adding to the conversation, pushing it forward, but never overbearing or rude. Melissa was, to her surprise, glad that she had accepted the assignment.

Kathy brought them both iced tea. It was during that slight lull in the conversation that Melissa decided to break the professional ice. “So tell me, Jessica. Now that you’ve reached some level of success, where do you think it came from?”

“A good idea, a lot of hard work, and what amounts to unbelievable good luck. I know that sounds strange, since most people think they owe their success to a dream and hard work alone. But I think luck, or chance, plays into it more than anything. Certainly more than most egos would admit.”

“Well, it’s at least gracious to say so.”

Jessica smiled. “Well, take my latest interest. Totally luck. I spend a lot of time tracking down very esoteric lights that operate at specific lumens. I do it for my customers, and I’m good at it, which is the basis for my success. But I also do research to keep abreast of the latest advances in lighting technology. And every woman knows what good lighting can do.”

Both women shared a laugh, and took a moment to sip their drinks.

“Anyway, I ran across an ad in the back of an industry tabloid, and I took a chance. It was expensive, but I think it’s going to make a huge difference in how things go for me from now on.

“Would you like to see it?”

Normally, Melissa would not have taken the time, but since she was here to get to know Jessica, she decided there would be no harm, and said so.

“Great! Kathy, would you bring in the lamp?”

“Sure, Mom!” called Kathy. A few moments later, she came into the room, carrying something that looked like a crystal volleyball mounted to an ebony pedestal. It’s surface was textured and bumpy. On second glance, it wasn’t completely spherical, or maybe it was. It gave the impression of being of an irregular shape, but Melissa could not tell exactly how.

Jessica smiled as she placed it on the desk at the end of the room. “I know, I know... it looks like some fad-lamp from the sixties, but it isn’t at all. I’m not even sure how to classify it. All I know is that it’s fascinating, and everyone who sees it seems to agree.”

“Whatever you say,” thought Melissa, mentally rolling her eyes. Then, as her practiced diplomacy took over, she said, “Well, I suppose I’ll have to see for myself, if you’ll let me, of course.”

“I was hoping you’d feel that way.”

Jessica got up and walked to the windows, pulling the shades and then the curtains. Then, she walked to the door to the hallway and closed it. As her hand reached for the light switch, she said, “Don’t worry. It’s just that in the dark you can... see it’s effect much better.”

Melissa was thinking of how much this was like high school, when she would pull out her parents strobe lights and black lights to show her friends. It was the adolescent version of dress-up and a small morsel of nostalgia settled in her chest. She became aware that despite her “professional eye”, she was having fun.

“I’ll be right back,” said Jessica, who had moved over to the lamp to turn it on. “Just enjoy the show. I have a couple of calls to make and I’ll be back before you know it.

“Oh, it takes a minute or two to warm up, okay?”

“Sure thing,” said Melissa. She usually hated it when she was left idle, but it didn’t seem so bad this time. It was so much better than the usual ego massaging she had to do when working stories like this.

By the time Jessica closed the door, she was beginning to think of how to approach the story. Maybe the business ingenue who got lucky, but that seemed too simple. Unspoiled natural woman? Better, but Jessica also seemed to have a hidden sophistication that guided her from behind her overt behavior.

Her thoughts were disturbed by a low, throbbing hum coming from the lamp. Or it seemed like the lamp. She hoped it wasn’t going to break or catch fire. All she needed was a face full of glass and a bill to replace the odd device. Jessica had said expensive, and that could be anything from fifty dollars to more than she wanted to imagine.

A moment later, her thoughts was dismissed again as a kind of bluish light began to pulse and swirl in the globe on the table. It was like gooey plasma squirming, oddly distorted by the lumps and wrinkles on the surface.

Quite compelling, really. It was so fluid and graceful... it almost seemed to react to what she wanted to see while still surpassing her ideas of what it would do. Somehow, it looked sexy. She thought about looking to the door, but didn’t want to miss the next swirl. It was really captivating. She felt like her retinas were matching the growing light, itching as it crawled around inside her eyes.

The blue was gone, replaced by colors that mixed beyond her ability to recognize, colors no one had ever seen. “The colors of the soul,” came the wispy thought. She laughed at herself. She wasn’t prone to spiritual metaphor.

She wondered if the soporific euphoria was her imagination. Moments later, there was no doubt. She was getting a bit too lost in it. But it was like drugs times a hundred. Like everything she’d tried when she was younger, but better. So much better.

She balked and shook her head, but instead of clearing it, it only intensified the sensations. Alarmed, she managed to look away, but the after-images were inverted and nightmarish. She looked back at the light. Felt calm. Felt the light reaching in, almost as if it were wiggling up her optic nerve, tickling her brain.

It moved from the back of her head forward.

There was no mistaking it now. Something hostile was trying to get into her, distracting her with seductive euphoria. He thoughts felt slow and muddled. She worked past her disorientation, tried to lift her arm—and couldn’t. She tried to look away again, but her eyes and head felt like they were held in place by strong elastic bands. There was no feeling of hard restraint; instead it was soft and insistent, keeping her focused on the swirling colors.

Panic came to her, forced her to fight. She worked her muscles, pressed against her captor, but she could also feel her own absolute lack of movement. It only made her more desperate.

Then, with what seemed like no effort at all, something exploded and washed through her mind, like warm, wet lotion. Her anxiety disappeared, erased inside of a single heartbeat. It was replaced by the oddest sensation of rightness. She felt her mind open, craving more of the tickling, crawling, perfect pleasure.

She was rewarded.

Her body began to itch now, her shoulders and nipples massaged by fingers more knowing and facile than any born of humans. They moved through her body, again inside, where she couldn’t escape their insistent pleasures.

Her pussy was wet. Her asshole twitched. She couldn’t move. The thousands of fingers within her were seducing her. She wanted to escape. She wanted more. She couldn’t form what it was she was supposed to free herself from. It was like thinking in snapshots that made less and less sense.

The futility of wanting to leave became plain to her. She couldn’t remember where she was. She couldn’t tell if she was sitting or standing. That information was no longer of any consequence. She didn’t care. She felt her body surrender, begin to crave, to beg, if it were possible, for more of the delicious intrusion. Her mind was turning more and more to agreement.

“So nice,” she thought. “So perfect. Bad. Must be a bad thing to be so good. So good to feel so bad. So good must resist bad. Bad to resist. Good to let go of bad good bad girl good feel oh god I want this. More. Want. Give. Yes. Yesss.

The glow of the lamp increased, but Melissa felt no pain from it, no need to do anything but open wider. She didn’t wonder about it. It was. It was her vision. It was her thought. It was an eternal, frozen moment. It was her world, now. Home. There was no escape, nor any thought of it.

Escape and home had no place together.

Climax came to her like the blood pounding through her arteries and veins. Her mouth, open and unmoving, drooled in open abandon. She was beyond caring, beyond the mechanics of inhibition. Her body convulsed inwardly, still unmoving, as orgasm after orgasm washed away any desire for anything but more of the beautiful light.

She ached for it to take her away, to make her into whatever it wanted, just not to stop, ever to stop, just keep shearing away anything but what would give more of the pleasure coursing through her. The lust. The love. For this, she would do, would give, would believe—anything.

Anything.

As it flared into brilliance and her mind melted into pure, white silk-light, escape was the last thing on her mind. In truth, it wasn’t on her mind at all.

She wanted only for it to go on forever. She didn’t care if it made her a slut, a bitch in heat. Those words had no meaning to her in this place. Only pleasure, lust, obedience and surrender made sense inside the cocoon of love that wrapped her in its wondrous embrace.

She could feel the last traces of resistance as they burned away in the glorious light of reason. She was changing. She was being reshaped in ways few had experienced, but that would be known by many more, and soon. Very soon.

She relished the knowledge as she felt her mind being directed, taught, shown. She helped root out the last vestiges of doubt, dancing inside as they burned into charred husks. She blew gently with her thoughts and watched her once-notions of ego, of hesitation, of all that did not serve Home blow away like fine dust, scattered to the realms reserved for that which can no longer exist.

It was natural, after all. There was no reason to question. She loved to obey.