The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Well… Now what?” I asked.

Iola and Iason gave me blank looks.

“Well, you’re Sea People, right? You must know something to get us out of… this!” I slapped the water’s surface, making a little splash.

“We’re monster slayers,” Iola replied. “Do you see any monsters?”

“I could stab the ocean if it’d make you feel better.”

“Shut up, Iason.”

“I mean, you’re the one who got us into this mess, maybe you have bright ideas how we can get out of it?” Iason continued.

“Shut up!”

Problem is, he was right. Ish. It was true that I’d—quite justifiably!—set the captain of our ship on fire. And okay, the rest of the ship. But that part was an accident! Even so, I had to admit if I hadn’t, we wouldn’t be clinging to a four-foot-long, five-inch-wide, slightly charred bit of deck in the middle of the ocean.

I just wasn’t going to admit it out loud.

“At least the ship stayed in sight of land,” I said, looking at the distant shadow on the water, just before the horizon. “If we can just figure out a way to get there…”

“Um, Lemma?” asked Iason. “What’re you looking at?”

“Land,” I said, pointing.

“The shore is the other way,” said Iola. I looked over my shoulder to see where she was pointing—rather closer than the horizon, but still much too far away, was a rocky shore.

“Than what’s that?” I asked.

“…Fuck,” said Iason. “Do you think those are storm clouds?”

Iola peered into the distance, her brow furrowed. “They might be.”

“You don’t know!?” I sputtered. “You’re Sea People!”

“We’re! Not! Sailors!” Iason shouted. “Just because we’re Sea People doesn’t mean we’re… sea… people! Do you fit every stereotype of Lemurians!?”

“Well, she is a powerful spellcaster who thinks she’s better than everyone else,” replied Iola.

“Can we focus on the oncoming storm maybe?” I asked. “Before it drowns us?”

“We don’t know for sure it is a storm,” said Iason. “We might be fine!”

It was a storm.

The waves grew harsher and choppier as it approached, tossing our makeshift little raft like—well, like the flotsam it was. Or jetsam, I can never remember the difference.

Lightning flashed as the sea surged. “This is bad!” Iason shouted over the growing din as we drifted momentarily through the air, before smacking down into the water, hard.

“You think!?” I shouted back. “Urgh…” My stomach lurched with the waves.

Iason saw my expression and his widened. “Oh no,” he said. “Don’t do it, Lemma!”

I shut my eyes, trying to fight down the nausea while I clung desperately to the raft. The storm was going to kill us, I knew it. If the waves and wind didn’t get us, our own exhaustion would. We were powerless.

Power…

“I—ulgh—have an idea,” I said.

“What!?” shouted Iason.

“She has an idea!” shouted Iola back.

“Then do it!” he yelled.

My stomach was twisting around itself and my chest was burning. “It’s… not a very good idea…”

“What!?”

“She said it’s not a good idea!”

“It can’t be worse that drowning!”

I hope you’re right, Iason.

I shut my eyes again and concentrated on the storm, the enormous magical energy roiling through it, the raw power of sea and wind and sky. Problem was, a storm at sea is about as wild as wild magic can be, the most alien thing to human kinds of power this side of the Outer Dark. But I’d managed once before to use a spell of transference to convert an immense source of wild magic—Brea’s healing powers—into a high-magic spell.

Yeah, a spell you prepared in advance, that took hours. All you’ll manage in ten seconds is to kill us all!

Shut up, me, I thought, and began the spell. If I could get this right, I could sap wind and sky magic from the storm and feed it into the plank, using the storm itself to power a flight spell strong enough to get us to land!

Just had to focus, keep control… The sea surged, and the raft spun into the air again, carrying us with it. “Hold on!” I shouted unnecessarily, and pushed the magic into the wood.

We hung in the air, just like before… And then kept hanging, still spinning, but headed for the shore! We were flying! Well, floating, anyway. The wind was doing the rest.

Okay, maybe more wobbling than flying… Ugh…

I felt the bubble form at the top of my stomach, then rise painfully up through my chest. My mouth was suddenly full of spit, and my head swimming. Nonononono, gotta focus, gotta keep control…

My stomach spasmed, and I started dry heaving. The magic spun away from me. And then the plank exploded.

My last thought before I hit the black wall of water rushing up to meet me was, Killed by my own spell. Dammit, mom was right.

The first surprise was that I woke up. The second surprise was that I was lying on something hard and uneven. Land! Hard, rocky ground! Even while I coughed and heaved approximately seven million gallons of sea water onto it, it was beautiful.

After, I collapsed back onto the rocks. I felt like shit. Every part of my body hurt, I was thirsty as hell, my stomach was still twitching irritably, and it was way too hot.

All I wanted was to lay there on the shore, but I knew I needed to move. I needed water, shelter, and eventually even—ugh, my stomach hated this thought—food.

I staggered painfully to my feet. Nothing seemed broken, but I felt like one giant bruise as I looked up and down the coast. No signs of any rivers, but that’s where water goes, right? Down to the sea? So if I followed the coast long enough, I’d have to reach fresh water.

I set out at a brisk stagger, but it was hard going. The ground was rough and uneven, and I was (as I may have mentioned) exhausted, dehydrated, and a solid mass of bruises. When I finally heard water, I practically fainted. Especially when I realized it wasn’t coming from ahead; it was coming from my left. In other words, from higher up the slope.

“Dammit, why can’t anything ever be easy?” I groused as I began clambering up the rocks. It wasn’t THAT bad of a slope, it was just one more obstacle when I was already fucking exhausted. But I had no choice—water’s water.

At last, after like a billion years of climbing, I found my way up to more level-ish ground. I looked down the sheer thousand-foot cliff I’d climbed to find it was more like 20 feet, and not anywhere near as bad of a slope as it’d felt like. Whatever, I thought. When I find Iason, I’ll tell him it was a thousand feet straight up. It’s not really lying if that’s what it felt like, right?

…And I’m GOING to find him. He’s here. Somewhere.

The water turned out to be farther than expected. It was getting pretty sunset-y when I finally found it—not a close-by stream or river after all, but a waterfall quite a bit further away, crashing into a pool that looked way too small to hold it. Maybe the water went underground to the sea? Is that something that happens? I think that’s what grottoes are, maybe?

Look, point is, WATER. You better believe I shoved my face in and drank every drop I could hold.

Then I threw up. Again.

THEN I drank a little, waited until I was sure my stomach could handle it, drank a little more, repeat until dark.

When I was finally sated, I gathered my strength and cast a little light spell. I was soaked, chilly, and hungry. Falling asleep out in the open was a bad plan, and that was before taking into account bears or tigers or unicorns or whatever predators they had in these parts.

When I was finally sated, I gathered my strength and cast a little light spell so I wouldn’t trip over anything while I searched for shelter. I was soaked, chilly, and hungry. Falling asleep out in the open was a bad plan, and that was before taking into account bears or tigers or unicorns or whatever predators they had in these parts.

I set off looking under and around the falls. Maybe there was a cave I could hide out in—it would be easy to get a fire going, that’s kind of my specialty, and that should keep me warm, dry, and safe from predators while I rested.

Sure enough, I found what I was looking for, a nice, dry cave, not too deep, and with a scraggly couple of bushes nearby I could drag in and set ablaze.

I woke up dry and hurting slightly less than the previous day, though none of my muscles were happy about sleeping on rock. I was also STARVING. I needed to find food today, but how? Back down to the shore and hope some fish came into the shallows? But how to catch them?

No, there was only one way to go, exactly the direction I didn’t want to deal with: up. Higher up the rocks I could see the tops of some trees. There must be something up there I could eat—berries, roots, maybe a bird or a squirrel?

I walked around for a bit, trying to find a good way up, and that’s when I saw it: a wisp of smoke. Thin, curly, and steady, the kind of smoke that doesn’t just mean there’s fire, but a small, controlled fire that isn’t expanding or burning itself out.

And that kind of fire means people. People who might have food! Maybe it’d be Iason or Iola, and even if it was a stranger, they might be willing to share in exchange for… Hmm. I mentally ran over the list of things I had to offer, post-shipwreck. One pocket dimension containing a small number of spellbooks, not going to share that… And… That was it. Well, if necessary, I was sure they’d find the generosity in their hearts to share their food in exchange for not being set on fire.

I climbed my way up and over to the smoke. It was slow, painful going, my poor muscles screaming at me the entire way. Finally I arrived at the source of the smoke, a large gap between two outcroppings of rock. I never would have found it if it weren’t for the smoke—the opening was invisible from below or either side.

I clambered on top of one of the outcroppings and found a flat surface big enough to sprawl out on. It was warm in the sun, and felt good against my aching body while a lay there for a while.

But my aching stomach compelled me to go further. I turned to face the opening. Thanks to its angle, it was dark inside, so I cast another light spell and walked in, the glowy ball hovering above my head.

My nose twitched as something wonderful filled it, the most welcome smell I could have imagined: roast meat. I found the source before long: someone had roasted what looked like an entire godsdamned cow and just left it lying there, warm and fragrant.

It was a LOT of meat. Surely whoever it was wouldn’t mind sharing a little, right? With some difficulty, I ripped a chunk off and tore into it. It was really badly cooked: it tasted like they’d forgotten to put on any seasoning at all, and it was burnt in some spots while practically raw in others.

But at that moment, it was the most delicious thing I’d ever tasted. I wolfed it down, and then lay there for a while, luxuriating in the feeling of a full belly.

A little too much, I guess, because I fell asleep again. By the time I woke up, I was feeling much better, almost human again. And still no sign of whoever this cave belonged to, just the smell of meat and smoke.

I considered just leaving, but what if it was Iason and Iola, or somebody who could help me figure out where I was? It made sense to look for them—which meant following the smoke smell farther into the cave.

The cave soon opened out into a large chamber. The floor here was smooth but uneven, as it rose into a series of lumps or hills on the far side. I increased the brightness of my light smell, trying to figure out what I was looking at, and spotted the source of the smoke: it was coming out of two holes in one of the smaller lumps, near the center of the room.

A lump shaped sort of like a horse’s head… and then that long rounded ridge was a neck, which made the really big hilly thing the body, and—fuck, it’s a dragon, isn’t it?

As if on cue, the dragon rumbled and shifted. Its wings rustled for a heart-freezing moment, and then it was still.

Okay, Lemma, you’ve stumbled into a dragon’s lair and eaten part of its lunch. Back away slowly and quietly. Remember the rules for dealing with dragons. The most important rule: let sleeping dragons lie.

I walked backwards, but I must have gotten rotated slightly, because my butt went straight into the wall. I risked turning away from the dragon to find the exit—it was a couple feet to my left. Then I turned back and saw the dragon looking right at me.

The most important rule of dealing with dragons is that you never, ever look them in the eye. Everyone knows that. What everyone doesn’t know—or at least, I didn’t until that moment—is how hard it is not to. Its eye was enormous, at least as tall as I am, and flame-colored: dull red around the edges, mostly orange, and then shading into bright yellow in the middle. Its pupil was pitch-black, though, and slitted like a cat’s. While I stared, the dragon blinked, but not with its eyelid. Some kind of inner, transparent eyelid flicked across its eye. Great, so it can even blink without breaking its gaze.

I couldn’t look away. I was caught, helpless prey staring into the gaze of the ultimate predator. I couldn’t move, couldn’t flee, couldn’t cast a spell: all I could do was look into that fiery eye as it seemed to expand until it filled the world. I was going to die.

“Greetingsssss…” it said. Its voice was a low rumble, ending in a snakelike hiss. “What bringssss you to my home, human?”

The most important rule of dealing with dragons is to be polite, and I know that’s the third “most important rule” I’ve mentioned. They’re all the most important rule, because make one mistake with a dragon, and you die. “I’m sorry,” I ventured. “I didn’t know anyone lived here, I was just looking for shelter.

It made a strange rumbling noise. A chuckle? “You lie,” it said.

“No! I really didn’t—”

“Quiet,” it said, and my mouth snapped shut instantly. “You knew sssomeone lived here, that isssss why you came. You sssstole food.”

I gulped. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No matter. You will make recompenssssse. You will provide nourissssshment in lieu of that which you took.”

Oh fuck oh fuck it’s going to eat me what do I do!? But there was nothing I could do. Its gaze held me utterly helpless. All I could do was think, and talk if it let me.

“Fear not,” it said. “I will not consssume your flesssh. I desssire sssussssstenancccce of a different sssssort. Oncccce it hassss been provided, you ssssshall depart in peaccccce.”

“Why should I believe you? Everyone knows the most important rule for dealing with dragons is never believe anything they say!”

“Impertinent whelp! You are lucky I had a good nap and am in a good mood, elsssse I would take what I want and burn you to asssssh. You are wrong; we do not lie. That issss a lie humanssss tell becaussssse they fear what we do even more. We do not make liesssss—we conssssume them.”

“What?” What could that even mean?

“I will take away your liessss, little morssssel,” it said. “I will leave you naked before the truth, and then sssend you back into the world. That isss why you humansss want to believe we lie, becausssse you do not want to believe the truth we ssshow you.”

And it was true. I knew, somehow, that it was true, that everything the dragon told me was an iron-hard, crystalline fact. But I’d dealt with too many glamours and enchantments to trust that feeling. “You’re lying. You’re making me feel like it’s true with magic, but I know it’s not.”

It gave that rumbling chuckle. “You would like to believe that, and not jussst becaussse it would let you hold on to your liessss.”

“What are you talking about?”

“How many timessss, little morsssel? How many timessss have you let yourssself be caught, ensssslaved, your thoughtssss and feelingssss rewritten by your captor?”

“That’s—that’s not my fault!” I protested.

“Isssn’t it?”

“I fought them! I broke free!”

“But you wanted to remain.”

“No,” I insisted, trying to shake my head, but it was hard with my eyes held in its inexorable gaze. So much easier to nod… “You’re just trying to control me yourself.”

“You would like that,” it rumbled. “The thought fillssss you with desssire.”

“No,” I said again, but I could feel the flush spreading through me, my growing wetness. And that was it making me feel this way, it had to be—and that thought made me even hotter.

“You love being helplessss,” it said. “Pinned by my gaze, feeling me devour your liessss and force you to accccept the truth, thissss excccitesss you. I can ssssmell your arousssal, little morsssel.”

And it was true. I was incredibly turned on. If it released me at that moment, I would have jammed a hand down my pants and frigged myself then and there, dragon or no dragon. “I… it’s just…” I stammered. “I’m just… used to this kind of situation leading to sex, that’s all!”

“No,’ the dragon said. “You ssssought out ssssituationssss where it would lead to ssssexxxx, becausssse it isss ssssexxxxy to you.”

“No…” I said again, fighting to resist the crystal certainty, the belief growing inside me. Because it’s not true? Or because the struggle makes it hotter?—and if my knees could have buckled at that thought, if I weren’t held immobile by the dragon’s eye, they would have. “I… I always fought back.”

“Becaussse you believed you had to,” the dragon said. “Becausse you believed your own lie that you didn’t want to ssssubmit.”

“I… I…” Something inside me snapped. A wall fell, and behind it there was only truth, the true fact that I wanted to be used, to be broken, to be mindfucked. “…take me…” I managed, and the dragon’s laughter echoed until the cavern shook.

“Now you sssee the truth, little morsssel. But I have no desire for you, even if you could sssurvive a mating long enough to get to the good partsss. Fear not, I will leave you enough liessss to warm you. I will even give you a gift, in thanksss for liesss of rare deliccciousssnesssss, a usssseful truth. Leave this placccce, and climb down the cliff to the sssshore. Follow it, with the occcccean on your right, and you will find your friendsssss.”

And with that, I was released from its gaze. I staggered back out of the cave into the light of day, and nearly collapsed onto the same outcropping I’d laid on for a while before. It had me, I thought. It could have done anything, but it let me go. I imagined if it hadn’t. What did it mean, I wouldn’t survive? How intense could dragon sex be?

I couldn’t help myself, and the fact that I couldn’t made it even better, even harder to resist. My hand slipped into my pants as I closed my eyes and imagined the dragon becoming human-shaped, even while its eyes stayed the same irresistible, inescapable flames. Imagined it pinning me to the wall with eyes and cock, fucking my mind and body, using me, owning me, claiming me, transforming me into its plaything—

I shoved the knuckles of my free hand into my mouth to muffle my cries as I came. It was true, everything the dragon had told me: I wanted to be controlled. The thought of my mind being manipulated turned me on. And I honestly couldn’t be sure whether I had always felt that way, or believed I had always felt that way because the dragon made me.

And that may have been the hottest thought of all.