The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Professor Belton stood at her podium with a pile of blue books calling out our names. Each student present jumped up and retrieved their test results. Some would stay to read them over and others would just stuff them into a bag or backpack and leave immediately. Attendance wasn’t required so the full class wasn’t there. I figured only the students who were on the edge between pass and fail had shown up because the final test grade had the biggest impact on our final class grade.

I was one of them.

History hadn’t been my best class, but I never missed a day and it wasn’t just determination to do my best. Professor Belton was a fantastic teacher and good on the eyes. I was never sure which kept my attention more, the eye-catching outfits or the energy she put into keeping the class’s attention. Probably a combination of the two. For this optional attendance, she wore a bright red silk blouse and a dark green business skirt, matching stockings and red high heels. Her long blonde hair was down and styled. Apparently since she wasn’t going to lecture she didn’t feel inclined to look as professional as she normally did. Personally, I thought she looked stunning, whether professional or casual.

Professor Belton called out our names in alphabetic order. That made me nervous because there were over a hundred students in the class and my last name started with “S”. I waited patiently, nervously rubbing my hands together.

When she called my name, “Ral Setton!", I accidentally kicked my backpack, sending it rolling down the stairs. After stopping it from beating me to the podium, I walked with what dignity I had left to retrieve my graded test. I was already apprehensive about my final grade, much less the test grade. What helped even less was her asking, “Would you mind sticking around? I want to speak to you in my office after the others leave.”

I could feel myself pale and she noticed. “You passed, by the way.”

For a moment all I could do was stand there and stare into her blazing blue eyes. From a distance she was a spectacular woman but suddenly, this close, she was almost breath-taking. I nodded in a quick, tight movement, acknowledging both that I passed and her request to talk in her office. Somehow, I found my way back up to my seat and started reading over all the red ink in my blue book. Before I knew it she had wished everyone a good holiday and those who hadn’t left began working their way to the exits.

“Ral? Could you give me a hand?” The Professor called out, shaking me from studying my mistakes.

Everything I had gone over had screamed back at me, “You knew those answers!” Slapping the book closed and stuffing it into my backpack the same questions plagued me, Why did I not write it down? Why did I miss such important points in every question? Why, with all that red, did I pass? Maybe I would get a chance to ask her. Maybe that was what we were going to discuss.

Looking over my shoulder as I got up, I noticed the door close behind the last student. The exit called to me. I wanted to go home, to be with my women, but Professor Belton wanted to talk. Hopefully, that was all she wanted.

The Professor stood next to the podium waiting as I gathered up the remaining blue books. She led the way to her office door to the right of the auditorium. Once inside, I stacked the books next to the ones she had carried in. I asked, “Professor Belton, don’t you have an aid to help with grading tests and stuff?”

It was a silly question considering how much she enjoyed History and teaching her class. Her answer wasn’t a surprise. “I want a personal hand in knowing what each of my students have learned during the semester.” She leaned against her desk, crossed her arms over her stomach and looked back at me. “Besides, when I know a student is struggling yet he or she knows how to answer, I can give leeway. A student aid wouldn’t.”

She turned the question away from my attempt at a delay into the very thing she wanted to talk about. Just what I needed: a brilliant, stunning, energetic and highly acute instructor. “I guess I don’t understand why you passed me then.” I pulled the blue book from my backpack. “I mean, there’s almost more red ink here than black.” It was true. She had not only marked what I got wrong but also filled in the portion of the answers that I missed.

“Partial credit goes a long way Mr. Setton. Most instructors are black and white, right or wrong. They want it all or nothing. History isn’t black or white, so expecting perfect answers isn’t just.” She had the same tone she used when in class. I felt like I was about to be the sole member of her audience and receive a special lecture on study habits and such.

Flipping through the pages, I couldn’t face her when I admitted, “Honestly, I could have done better. When I was going over the answers I felt like an idiot for not putting in what you finished.” I was disappointed in myself. I could have... No, should have done better. I had even considered cheating half-way through the semester, and I don’t mean sneaking in completed blue books or writing class notes on the bottom of my shoes. No, I had other ways of cheating that could have never been proven. However, my conscience won out and I was left with a “C” for my final test grade.

“Ral, you’re not perfect. No one is. Not one of my students this semester got a perfect score.” She said it with a smile I knew was there even without looking. Her statement even confirmed my reason for not cheating.

I nodded and closed the book to put it back. As I slung the backpack over my shoulder, I looked at the Professor. My next question stuck to the tip of my tongue when I saw her again. There was no actual change but somehow, she suddenly seemed more... luscious. Her blazing blue eyes stood out in contrast to the flushed color of her face. Her blonde locks haloed her head and her soft red lips parted as she looked back at me.

The change of my perception of her caught my attention. Not the actual changes, because there were none, but the fact that I believed she looked better.

Looking at Professor Belton, I felt my desire growing. Not only that need for sensual flesh, but the swell of my cock down my pants leg. I didn’t know why, but I was very aware of how alone the two of us were in that room, and it made the possibilities more... licentious.

The problem was, I could affect her in the same way, and it took no effort at all. Since before classes had started, I had the ability to fill women with lust, especially women that I found attractive. Professor Belton certainly met that criteria. I called it my Charm, though others might call it glamour or animal magnetism, because that’s how those I affected sometimes acted. Like they had no control, just the instinct.

Professor Belton’s smile wilted around the edges. She could see plainly what was on my face. It might have scared her, but she didn’t look skittish. I was probably already affecting her, because part of me wanted her. Part of me knew I could have her.

I had to stay in control of myself. I had to get away from her before things got out of hand. The signs were there and she was showing the second. The first was her wanting to be alone with me. “Professor, I should be going...”

Her smile returned quickly and she stepped away from her desk in my direction. “Nonsense. Where do you have to run off to?” She was looking me over and I knew how she was mentally undressing me, thinking about what I would look like minus my shirt, then my pants...

I swallowed hard. That brilliance in her eyes seemed to flare. It was a burning I was all too familiar with. The women I lived with usually wore that look like a pair of contacts and I never kept them from what it would take to diminish that look. Her desire was growing and I was the focus. “Actually I have to get home to pack. Some friends and I are catching a late flight tonight for West Virginia,” I told her. It was the only real excuse I had without lying.

She cocked her head to the side as if seeing me differently. What any woman saw when they looked at me like that was a guess at best. “You can’t spare a few minutes to keep me company?”

She didn’t just want company and I knew it. The real problem was my body was responding to her just as she responded to me. In another minute we would both be devoid of clothing and using her highly polished desk for our fornication. In fact she took the initiative and began unbuttoning her blouse.

You might ask, why not enjoy? Because once usually wasn’t enough. Once I had sex with someone and reached orgasm, a link would be created that kept us together. Obviously not physically, but in a mental/emotional way. I believed the women with whom I’d already established such links with were my responsibility. I also believed that they belonged to me. It was wrong to think like that, especially with the number I was bound to, but it was true and nothing I had done changed it.

“Then, is there something... particular... you want to... discuss?” I asked with a heavier breath than I wanted. Her breathing had gotten heavier too.

She dropped her hands to her sides and her blouse opened to reveal her breasts encased in a silky red bra that matched the shirt. The shirt was sheer enough that I could see light though it. “Discuss?” she asked and shook her head slowly, “no.”

Women’s breasts were always a fascination of mine, and Professor Belton’s were no exception. It took me a minute to rip my eyes from the soft cleavage and meet her steady gaze. “No?” I asked, not entirely sure what she just said.

I could see heat rising up along her skin and cover the paleness of her soft globes. So badly I wanted to reach out and feel that heat, to press my lips to it and run my tongue along those soft curves.

“No,” she said under her breath. It was a slightly different tone.

She took another step closer and stood mere millimeters from me. I was looking down at the deep, soft depth between her rising and falling breasts. All I had to do was lean down and I could lay kisses over her warm, delectable skin.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed her hand twitch and I realized that something else was happening. Looking up, I found her eyes watching me. The look was a mixture of adoration and something akin to confusion. Was she fighting me?

“Ral, I... I...” Her voice trailed off as she looked into my eyes. She reminded me of women caught in Dracula’s gaze in all those cheesy horror movies as she started to glaze over. She was falling much further than anyone I had ever tried to Charm. I was pushing too hard and that was unacceptable.

I closed my eyes, cutting that connection and I felt her hand on my chest. Looking down, I was relieved that we hadn’t made skin-to-skin contact.

She shook herself, as if shrugging off a soft blanket and looked back up. The burning was still there, she was still amorous but not falling into my eyes. That was good. Then she said, “Ral, I have to apologize.”

I wasn’t expecting that. “Apologize? For what?” I was still breathy. Focusing on talking intelligently would help me regain control of myself and my Charm.

Her eyes were searching mine, looking for something I wasn’t sure I had the answers to. “I normally don’t...” She licked her lips. Those moist soft red lips were slightly parted for her breathing.

Her breasts pressed to my chest. I closed my eyes for a moment to keep my focus. When I opened them, her blazing blues filled my vision. A strong inhale would have pulled her lips to mine—and I wanted it. “What is it you normally don’t do?”

Her eyes focused on me. “I... I don’t normally date my students.”

A grin and answer slipped past my control. “The semester’s over. I’m not your student any more.”

Her other hand rose to my chest and she leaned in. I was holding my backpack and had kept my other hand in my coat pocket. Skin-to-skin contact would allow our emotions to overwhelm us. So far our clothes provided the only protection from that. Yet I stood there both hoping she would touch me and fearing that she would.

Her eyes sparkled and I wondered if she was having the same conflict I was. My Charm didn’t affect all women the same, or at least they didn’t all react the same. Some would remain in control and others would throw themselves at me. Professor Belton seemed to have fought off a majority of it but by staying so close she allowed herself to be vulnerable for another dose.

My Charm had never affected me though. I would certainly have natural physical responses to women’s advances, but I had never suddenly perceived a woman the way I did the Professor. It worried me less and less as that very woman quickly became the only thing, the only person I could think of. Then she blinked and turned her head. Once the eye contact was broken I almost literally felt the room return, as if we had just been somewhere else entirely. It was almost exactly the same affect she had just recovered from.

That’s when something other than her blazing eyes caught my vision. Around her upper left arm glowed a blue ring. If anyone else could see it they might have thought of those glow rings you can buy at Six Flags theme parks. Only that ring was broader and actually glowed even in the light. It also hovered away from her arm and the sleeve of her shirt. I knew those characteristics.

I only flicked my eyes to her arm and back, but she caught the movement. “What?” she asked, bringing her eyes back to mine. However, I didn’t feel the pull to her as strongly as before.

“Are you bound to someone?” I asked.

Her eyes widened and she shook her head slowly. “No,” she answered with a wary smile. “Why would you ask me that?”

I considered the possibility. She may have been bound to someone and, like me and my girls, she didn’t talk about it with anyone. Bringing it up caught her off guard and probably frightened her. “Sorry,” I mumbled as I stepped back. I knew how I would feel if someone tried to bed one of my girls. I couldn’t do that to someone else.

Her smile faded. “Sorry for what? I should be the one apologizing.”

Her continued effort to apologize sparked an idea. What if she wasn’t the one bound? What if she was like me? “I think then we both owe apologies.”

“Why?”

“I think we were affecting each other.”

She had been looking at me curiously but straightened up when I said that. “How... What do you mean?”

“I normally don’t talk about this but you already know what you can do. I do the same.” It was vague but I hoped she understood the implication.

She seemed to and began to really look me over. Not the way she had previously. She was looking for something, not at it. Her eyes passed over my chest several times before she looked up. “Who are you?”

“You know who I am. Ral Setton.”

She shook her head slowly. “No, you have a different name.”

How did she know that? Was she able to see thoughts or knowledge without touch? I couldn’t do that. I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea or not but she hadn’t offered anything more threatening than to rip off my clothes for her pleasure. I unzipped my coat, because even to me it covered the amber streak that floated over my chest. “Ral... Nautikuus. It’s my birth name.”

She looked squarely at my mark and her eyes widened. “You’re... You’re him...”

That was different. “Him? Him who?”

She stepped back from me as if I were suddenly the boogey man. Nervously, she pulled her shirt together and began buttoning it up. “You... You should go. You said you and some friends had some packing to do.” She stepped away from me and once her shirt was closed enough she opened the door, standing halfway behind it as if to shield herself from me.

I zipped my coat back up and approached slowly. “Wait, Professor, I’m not in any real hurry. I lied to get away from how we were affecting each other. I apologize about that, but whatever it is you’ve heard about me, I’m not going to hurt you.”

She wouldn’t meet my eyes. “It doesn’t matter. You should just go.”

I stepped forward and placed my hand on hers. Our emotions had changed and I needed answers. Professor Belton resisted me. I had never met anyone who could resist my ability to share memories before but she was doing it.

Holding onto her hand, I softly closed the door and led her to the chairs next to her desk. Once we were seated I tried to explain, “I’m not going to hurt you. I’ve learned how to share memories. You’ll find out about me and I’ll learn about you. It takes only a split second and doesn’t hurt at all. Please, I need to know what you know.”

She stared at me like a deer caught in headlights. I knew the instant she recovered she would bolt. I looked inward. Her resistance resembled a very well built brick wall. Unlike walls we build for buildings, this one was infinitely tall and wide. There was no going around the wall. I didn’t want to tear down her defenses, I just wanted to see what she knew. All I needed was a door.

~Professor, let me in. I just want to know what you know. That’s all. ~ I had been able to communicate with my women with pure thought when we touched. I hoped it worked with her as well.

A door appeared to my left and I opened it. The memories flooded into me and I let her see what I knew about myself. Just as I told her, it only took a split second for the exchange. However it seemed unfair that I gained years worth of memories from her yet she only saw a few months worth of me.

Sitting back and letting her hands go, I waded through her thoughts. She had a mentor who taught her about herself and the society to which they both belonged. Before I could understand that society though, the Professor grabbed my face and purged the memories. I couldn’t stop her.

She sat back out of breath.

“Why did you do that?” I asked astonished.

She shook her head. “Your not a member of our society. You don’t need to know of them.”

“Society? Children of the Program have a society?”

She looked at me funny. “Children of the Program?”

“Yeah, my parents used the Master PC program...”

She jumped up. “Shhh! Not here.” She went to her door and looked out into the auditorium. I knew the place was deserted except for us but she seemed a touch paranoid all of a sudden. She returned to her chair, shaking her head. “Don’t mention that program in public.”

I nodded slowly. “Okay, that’s fine. But I don’t get it. How many children are there?”

She shook her head again. “What do you mean? We’re not children of any program.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not allowed to tell you. I’m not sure anyone will.” She looked at my chest again with her last statement.

Running my fingers along my jacked, over my mark I asked, “Why? Is there something wrong with my mark?”

She shook her head slowly while still looking at it. No, it was more like she was looking into it. “Only a very few have had an amber mark.” She looked up into my eyes. “I can get into a lot of trouble just for telling you that much.”

That made no sense. “Who would know?”

“Any of them.”

Talk about cryptic. “Them who?”

“The Mind Magi,” she whispered.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Both of us jumped. The look I got from Professor Belton told me not to say anything. For that matter, if the name of those Magi was any indication, thinking about our short discussion would have been bad.

“Yes?” she called out to the door in her normally pleasant voice.

The door opened and a tall man appeared. He wore a light jacket, gloves and denim jeans with boots. His hair was salt and pepper with streaks of black. His eyes were hard and dark. It was like looking at a wrecking ball poised to crash through a building.

“Ah... Dr. Livingston. I almost forgot we were going to have dinner together.” Professor Belton continued in her pleasant voice. If she was shocked or scared, it didn’t show. She looked back at me with what looked like a genuine smile. “Ral, I hope you take my advice and good luck in your other classes.”

I stood up with her. Evidently our conversation was over. I nodded to Dr. Livingston and left the office. I didn’t run, at least not at first. I climbed the stairs to the exit and waited for the door to close. Then I ran.

Since classes were out for Winter Break, there weren’t many students around, and considering I was in Texas, the cold winter air was only that, cold. Texas doesn’t get a lot of snow, but it will occasionally get an ice storm. Fortunate for my hurry, there hadn’t been any storms lately.

My way home lay just on the other side of South Cooper Street, just south of the Fine Arts building. Home was an underground complex my women and I lived in. The way in led to a tunnel leading directly to the heart of the complex. Once I reached that door, I slowed down and thought about what just happened.

Who were the Mind Magi? Why would they punish Professor Belton for telling me anything about them or that only a few people had ever had an amber colored mark? And why didn’t they talk about or refer to themselves as children of the program? Did Mind Magi mean the same thing?

So many questions and I was completely without answers. It reminded me of when my gifts had started to develop. I had a lot of questions then too and some of the answers came from an unexpected source.

I doubted Renée would have any answers though and Professor Belton was highly reluctant to give them to me. Professor Belton also presented something that I hadn’t encountered before: the power to resist me. It was a mystery, and sooner or later I would get those answers. Mandy, my adopted sister had convinced me to go home to West Virginia for a few days and I had agreed. She didn’t know it but I intended to find out about my parents—my real parents. If they knew anything about what Professor Belton spoke of then maybe they would give me those answers. I really couldn’t think of anyone else who could.