The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I knew immediately when the Stranger arrived in the Tower, because all hell broke loose on the floor below.

Even through the thick stone walls I could hear the ringing clash of steel on steel. There were explosions inside the Tower and the echoing boom of gunpowder; the magical noises of magical weaponry that nobody living could ever describe; noises never heard before by humans. The roar of combat, to the death.

I quailed to hear it. But I held the faith; the Script must prevail.

The Script clearly stated that once Gargaz had defeated the Stranger—by whatever means necessary, and however long it took—he would ascend the winding staircase, unlock the door to the high room, take me by the hand, and lead me safely back to his quarters. Once there, I would open myself to him like a flower of the forest, as I always did; his reward and his right.

The battle went on a long time. I sat and waited, trying to block out the clamour from below, and willing myself not to speculate. Whatever wild imaginings I may have, the Script was the Script. And finally, as usual, the noise from downstairs died down to silence, and I heard footsteps on the stairs.

The familiar click of the heavy lock—there was only one key in the whole world—and as I smiled in expectant relief, the door swung open, and I raised my head to greet my—

—Stranger.

The Stranger was bigger and more powerfully built than any I had seen before, even at a distance. He was huge, a head taller than Gargaz at least, and my Master was a very big man. I instinctively shrank from him. The Stranger’s armour was singed and pitted from battle. There were sword slashes across his chest. I could see his belt was hung with empty weapon cases, presumably spent against Gargaz. In his right hand he held a weapon of a type I had never seen before, an indescribably complex twist of metal and fire. And in his left, he held Gargaz’s sword.

I felt paralysed; shock and terror combined. This could only mean one thing. I had no idea what to do.

The Stranger buzzed like a cloud of bees, and through the buzzing I could hear the Stranger’s voice, or voices, a sickening and meaningless alien babble

Buzzing, buzzing, disjointed abstractions of sound and language. The Stranger stepped into the room. Like all Strangers, he seemed slightly out of focus, compared with the solid reality around us. I wondered what I was supposed to do now. Run? There was nowhere to run. Scream? There was no-one to hear. Fight him? I had no weapon. I was powerless, in my new role. Once, I knew, I might have been able to defend myself, but I couldn’t remember how, now. Just a slave, stripped of all powers; a possession to be taken. So much for the most dangerous thing in the world.

But at last the secret door in my mind opened, and Gargaz’s Script rose in me. I suddenly knew exactly what I had to do.

Very slowly and calmly, so as not to anger or alarm the Stranger, I stood from the bed, and gently let slip the ties on my white dress, letting it fall to the floor. I stepped out of it, naked, towards the Stranger. My Master’s chain dangled cool between my breasts.

“Welcome, Stranger,” I said, reciting the words, clearly remembered now, although I had never known them until now. “I am Eleni, the Maiden in the Tower. I am the one you seek.” The buzzing of the bees seemed clearer, louder, as I approached.

Gargaz’s Script demanded I raise my hands to the stranger, reaching out to him in surrender, and say certain words. I tuned out the buzzing nonsense, raised my hands, and smiled, though to me it felt like a grimace, and even the Script sounded stilted and artificial in my mouth.

“Stranger,” I said, “You have bested Gargaz, and you have made your way to me in my high tower. Gargaz was my Master. I belonged to him. I was his. You are my Master now. I belong to you. I am yours.”

No! Surely this could not be true? What was Gargaz thinking? What perversion of Script was this? Was I simply to give up, to give myself to another, a Stranger? This could not be right. But the fragment of Script was insistent, irresistible, and like an automaton, I took another step forward, offering myself to the Stranger. The Stranger stood, complacent or transfixed, I had no way of knowing. The sound of bees grew still louder, and through it the strange voices, murmuring.

At the Script’s insistence, I raised my hands to my breasts and cradled them, caressed them, watching the Stranger all the while. There was no expression on his blurry face. The Script insisted that I was lustful for my new owner, and I did my best to give the Stranger a look of the utmost carnality. I reached down and stroked between my legs, slowly, slowly.

“Master, please kiss me,” I said, feeling sick. “Please take me. I am yours now.” This Script repelled me. I revolted myself. One step closer. I held up the silver chain in my hand—my Master’s chain—and offered it to the Stranger invitingly.

He did not move towards me as other men would have. So I placed the chain in one of the Stranger’s hands, and took the other in mine. I led him to the bed, pushing him gently, insistently onto his back. The buzzing of the bees, a voice like static after a storm.

And yes, I knew exactly what to do. Slowly, I straddled the Stranger, lowering myself onto him. The old forgotten instincts were suddenly fierce in my breast again. Tenderly, I bent my head to him, and in one lithe and sinuous movement I ripped out his throat with my teeth.

Buzz, buzzz, buzzzzz. Foolish Stranger, so weak. Nonsense words from a foreign world, squawking.

I climbed off the body of the Stranger and stepped back from the bed. His lifeless hand let go of my chain, and it swung freely between my breasts again. I felt proud. I should never have doubted Gargaz and his unknown weapons. The Stranger was fading fast, and I could already discern the bedlinen and the brickwork of the high tower through his increasingly translucent body. The sound of bees was ebbing too.

I could see the Stranger was finished. He was practically transparent now, and the buzzing was becoming indistinct. But there was one more thing to be said, according to the Script. I took a deep breath and smiled kindly at the fading Stranger, although I had no idea what the words in the Script could signify, and I knew these murderous Strangers deserved no sympathy whatsoever for the brutal terrorism they had inflicted on the World.

“Thank you for playing The Maiden in the Tower,” I intoned, in my most solemn and solicitous voice. “Better luck next time.”

With that, a final soft buzz, a dying bee, and the Stranger disappeared completely. I felt the Script leave me, its work done. There was blessed silence, and I was alone.

And after a while, I heard Gargaz’s familiar heavy footsteps on the staircase below, and I knew I would soon have my reward.