The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Meadows of Asphodel

Chapter 1 — A Tuneful Reed

The redhead sits next to me, hand still on top of mine as she looks at me expectantly.

“Two questions,” I begin.

“Shoot.”

“Okay, probably five questions.”

She smiles. “Sure.”

“Maybe like fifteen.”

The smile starts to slide off her face. “Any day now.”

“Red?”

She nods.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“No, but really?”

“Really-really,” she says, the smile creeping back onto her lightly-freckled face.

“Red.”

“How many of these questions of yours are ‘Red? Really?’

I shake my head. “Still my turn. You can ask your questions when I’m done.”

She rolls her eyes and tries to will her cheeks into a frown, but I can still see a frustrated little grin in the corners of her mouth.

“Fine,” she says. “Keep going.”

“Really though?”

Her smile grows again, but shifts slightly in tone. “You know I can set you on fire with my mind.”

I raise my hands in mock defense. “Okay, okay, sorry. But I do have a real question for you. A serious one.”

“Good.”

“Really. Like, for real.”

She glances over her shoulder. “Every living soul on this planet knows me as Red. There are people I’ve lived, worked, and fought through literal hell with for years on-end who haven’t known me as anything else. Friends, lovers, comrades, commanders—all know me as Red.”

I smile, sensing that this is as much a scar as it is a boast. “But really?“

She sighs, leaning in and whispering so quietly that I can barely hear her: “Tamara.”

I open my mouth to say something stupid, but her hand instantly snaps to my collar.

“I swear to fuck if you tell anyone, I will hunt down everyone and everything you’ve ever laid eyes on and burn it all so hot that it’ll atomize the ashes.”

Her fear is real—and way more intense than I would have thought for something so trivial—but behind it I can feel some tension lift. She knows it doesn’t really matter, and that I’ll likely never see her again after she leaves, but somehow she finds it to be a relief that someone out there knows who she used to be.

Wait, how do I know that?

“Do you have any other questions for me?” Tam—wait, no, dangerous thought, go away—Red asks.

“Are you guys planning on heading into town to tell people I’m going to help them?”

Red throws her head back and gives a full hearty chuckle. “Are you fucking nuts?” she says. “They’d rip you to pieces if we endorsed you.”

“Wait—didn’t you just liberate them?”

“From oppressors that they’ve been literally worshipping for years. Have you ever heard of Stockholm Syndrome? Besides, even if we did just clear out anyone who took up arms, I guarantee you we missed a few true believers who won’t be happy we’re putting you in charge.”

I nod. “Okay, so... er... how am I supposed to rebuild, then?”

“Slowly. One group at a time. Start with the most lost. Show them the path. Get them on their feet. Then find more.”

I nod. “Right. The path. Er—”

“What path?” she asks for me.

I nod again.

“I don’t know how well the eldritch cordyceps treated you, but everyone else in this town has been completely sheltered. Maybe try reminding them of what they’ve been missing and let them choose for themselves.”

“Eldritch cordyceps?” I ask.

Red shrugs. “Just a pet name. We don’t know what they are or where they come from. Just that they’re a bitch to deal with.”

“Right.”

Red’s eyes are an intense emerald-green, and for a silent moment it feels like she’s scanning my brain. “No more questions?” she asks.

Wait... is that probing sensation just a feeling? I narrow my eyes. “You tell me.”

Red narrows her eyes back, then shakes her head. “Sorry, I’m not great at that. Plus, it was dumb of me to try.”

“To try what?”

Her cheeks blush a little. “You know... fishing for thoughts. It’s a bad habit. I don’t like awkward silences.”

“I see. Well, no, you covered my two-or-twenty questions. Your turn.”

She glances around quickly before asking, “Have you ever...” she starts, struggling to find her words.

I don’t need to fish for thoughts to see her cheeks blush even brighter. “I was in my twenties when the sky fell, so yes.”

“No, I mean...”

For someone who I just watched burn down an entire building with supernatural powers (or, someone I just made burn it down, I guess), she seems awfully sheepish. “Did my roommate let me hook up? No.”

Red gives me a look of frustration, then slumps slightly, as though to duck under whatever hang-up she’s been catching herself on. “Do you know what an incubus is?”

“Alt-rock band from before the fall?” I ask.

“A dick demon,” she says.

I shake my head.

“It catches prey with toxic mind-control jizz.”

So much for the hang-ups.

She continues, “If it comes in contact with your skin, it makes you kind of want sex. Resist the urge, and you start wanting submissive sex. Resist that, you start wanting painful sex. Resist for long enough, and you end up begging it to fuck you death with its four-foot iron-barbed dick.”

“Jesus fuck,” I hear myself mutter.

“Kind of the opposite,” Red chuckles. “Anyways, a few years back we ran into one, and I didn’t realize I got hit right away. As soon as I felt the urge to submit, I got it taken care of, but... it kind of burns into your brain as a preference.”

“I don’t know what you’re—” I begin before she cuts me off again.

“I’m pretty sure you do,” she says. “I’ve been thrown down, tied up, locked in place—but I’ve never felt anything like what you did to me in there. You completely removed my agency. I was your puppet.”

“I’m sorry about that,” I mutter. I know it’s not what she wants, but I’m at a total loss about what else to say.

Red leans in, pressing her lips against my earlobe and giving my neck a lick before she whispers, “It was the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking experienced.”

“Oh. Uh, I’ve never...” her lips and tongue brush my neck again, sending jolts to my brain that seem to short-circuit my language centers. “I didn’t mean to... I... uhh...”

“Will you do me a favor?” Her whispers are now ragged and breathy.

“Um... okay...”

“Will you take me into that ugly yellow house, take control of me again, and use me?”

I open my mouth, but it feels like if my brain processes her words my nuts are going to explode.

“It must have been what, ten years since you’ve been with a woman? Fifteen? " she continues. “I want you to work out every fucking day of that on me. Every. Fucking. Day.”

She pulls away and looks at me, her bright green eyes hazy with lust.

“What if I go too far?” I ask. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

She still smiles, but it suddenly seems a bit forced. “Fine. Safe-word is cordyceps. I’ll think it at you if I want you to stop. Now will you please grow a pair and mind-fuck me?”

I nod. This should be my lucky day, but I don’t think I’ve ever been more nervous in my life.

“So,” I say as we walk to the little yellow bungalow across the street from the inferno that was once a modest apartment complex. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to not ask me what I want you to do.” She has a veneer of playfulness, but I can feel her frustration.

“Are you cool with—”

“YES”, she cuts me off, slamming the wooden door behind her. The deadbolt and latch are both smashed in, so it creaks back a few inches, but it still keeps us mostly-obstructed from the street.

Okay. Chill. You can do this. “I didn’t give you permission to interrupt me,” I tell Red, locking her body in place.

I take a step back, eyeing her up and down. Her jacket and pants are both some sort of thick canvas material, no doubt some magical protective bullshit. It’s built for utility, not fashion, so all I can tell about her figure is that she’s got a generous chest for her shorter stature.

When I walk around behind her, I can see her ass seems to be large and firm—though I guess I shouldn’t expect anything less in someone who fights dick demons for a living. Her bright red hair is tied back in a braid and tucked into the collar of her jacket.

“So,” I say, my mind throwing itself into a state of absolute panic. What would she want me to say? “You’ve been, uh, bad.”

Her body is still locked still, but I hear her laughter echo from her mind.

“Sorry,” I mutter, fully aware that it’ll shatter whatever illusion I’m trying to put up. “I’m kind of being thrown into the deep-end here.”

‘Don’t think of me as a bored girlfriend’, I feel her think. ‘Think of me as a sex toy.’

I think for a moment. What does that even mean?

‘Don’t go out of your way to try to make me feel abused,’ she thinks at me. ‘Just do what you want.’

I scratch my chin, trying to figure out how to start.

Red stops thinking at me and waits patiently for me to work it out.

Best to start slow. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with. Take off that jacket?”

Nothing. I can sense that she wants to give me instructions, but she’s holding back in hopes that I’ll figure it out on my own.

“Take off your jacket,” I repeat.

Still nothing.

Am I doing something wrong? I don’t want to admit to her that I’m totally new at this. The first time I’d ever actually controlled someone was when I made her—

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Made. Not asked.

“Right,” I mutter to myself as I make her unbutton her jacket and slough it off her shoulders.

I’m pleasantly surprised by what’s underneath—she’s wearing a white tank top underneath that’s tight around her midriff. She’s got curves, but she’s extremely fit—her body’s like that actress from, uh, action-thing movie or whatever. Fuck, how can I not remember? I was obsessed with it before the world ended.

Anyways, point is she’s got the type of body shape you would see on the screen—fit with a bit of plush substance to it.

For a moment I freeze. My heart is already pounding. It’s been so fucking long... I don’t even know where to start.

I stare at her breasts. They look like they’re probably pretty nice—it seems like she’s wearing some sort of industrial-strength sports bra to keep them from knocking around while she’s razing evildoers or whatever, but even under that they’re still a generous size.

My formative years watching porn tell me that I should be mauling those glorious things, diving into her cleavage like Scrooge McDuck (how the hell do I remember a cartoon that I haven’t seen in 25 years, but I’m blank on shit I saw right before the fall?), but she doesn’t want me to do what I think I should be doing. She wants me to do what I want to do.

I raise my arms, and have Red pull my shirt up over my head. I make her take a step back and look me up and down.

I can see myself through her mind—not her eyes, mind you, but through how she responds to looking at me.

She’s not blown away by my physique—not surprising, given that she roams the lands with an entourage with god-like powers—but she seems fascinated by my body art.

“My hinges,” I tell her. touching my shoulders. “If you look close, you can see the squiggles swirling into the abyss make animal shapes. All wildlife from the parks we used to camp at.”

I sigh. “I’ve heard stories of what’s been going on in the woods. Even the angels seem to be afraid to go too deep. I wonder if there are even any animals left?”

Red is still frozen, but she feels a bit frustrated.

“Sorry, got sidetracked a bit. We can play show-and-tell when you’re in a more talkative state. Now get over here.”

My words are followed by commands, and Red walks up to me, stroking my cheek with one hand, resting the other on my chest.

Her fingers are rough and calloused, but it still feels so fucking good to be touched by another human being.

“Ohhhh fuck,” I groan as she strokes my stubbly chin with her thumb. “That’s... mmm.”

For a moment I feel Red wrest control from me and lift her hands, but immediately—almost by reflex—I have her back under my control and her hands snap back to my body.

Suddenly, a pang of dread hits me. “Are you still with me?” I ask her.

‘Yes,’ Red thinks at me. ‘Just testing.’

“Getting bored?” I ask her, making her lower both hands to my chest and begin to stroke down my ribs.

‘Can you do me a favor?’ she responds.

“Yeah?”

‘Shut the fuck up. This is you-time.’

I smile at her, and make her smile back. It seems weird at first—mechanical, even—but with a little gentle pressure, I’m able to inject some genuine joy into it.

I take my time making her explore myself with those coarse fingertips of hers. I can sense her impatience, but I can also tell that forcing her to take it slow is also feeding that submissive hunger that’s gnawing at her.

Suddenly, a thought occurs to me.

“Tell me what you want.” I send it as both a verbal order and a mental command.

I can feel the words contort in her chest. “I want to make the world safe again” comes out of her mouth, but I can tell she had to reshape them.

“Fascinating,” I say to myself as I take a step back from Red. “Truth by technicality. But that wasn’t your first answer, was it?”

“No,” she blurts out on command.

“Was it something embarrassing?” I order her to answer. “Something you wouldn’t want to tell me out loud?”

I can feel her resistance, but she nods.

“I’m pretty sure it’s not asking me for instructions, so I’ll leave it there,” I tell her. “I take it you’re hoping for more than just chaste snuggles all night, but this truth thing could be fun.”

Her eyes are fixed on me. I can feel the anticipation waft off of her mind, mixed with a tinge of apprehension.

“Are you a dancer?” I order.

“I’m a fighter,” she responds.

“Yes, but do you like to dance?” I sternly add.

“No.”

“Have you ever given a striptease?”

“No.”

I smile. That was easy. If feeling helpless is what she likes, then I have to find something she can struggle against.

“Take off the rest of your clothes,” I tell her, “but when you do, I want you to put on a show. Something extravagant. Something I’ll never forget.”

Red’s eyes slowly close, and then suddenly an intense white heat is all I see, feel, and hear. I somehow keep my footing as a shockwave blasts past me, and it takes me a while to regain my senses.

The flash only lasts for a moment, and when my eyes finally readjust I see glowing embers floating through the air, burning themselves out as there, in the middle of the room, stands the glorious body of the redheaded warrior woman, completely bare.

From Red’s mind, I can glean a defiant satisfaction. I don’t know whether she’s strong or I’m weak, but she certainly found a way to tick the “extravagant show I’ll never forget” box without giving me my striptease.

“Cute,” I tell her. “I can’t even make you reset and try again. Of course... you realize now you’re going to be running around naked for the rest of the day. Or was that the plan?”

I check her mind to see her reaction. Her defiance slips away, and a shameful desire creeps into its place.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as such a desperate exhibitionist that you’d burn your own clothes for a chance to show off your body.”

I step forward and caress her cheek with my left hand, smiling into her eyes. I run my fingertips up along her ribs with my right, and get some satisfying involuntary twitches out of her. “And what a body,” I say almost to myself as I begin to circle around, looking her up and down.

I’m taken aback by how off-the-mark I was with my clothes-on assessment. What I thought was soft and plush is actually rigid—her thighs and ass are thick, but they ripple with muscle every time she shifts her weight. Fit girls have thighs you could bounce a quarter off of. This girl has thighs that could bend a quarter in half.

Her body is quite a bit more pale than her face and arms, with a sharp tan line at her collar and a dull tan between her undershirt straps and wrists—meaning she usually wears a jacket like the one laying on the ground, but spends a lot of time in the tank-top she just blasted to pieces.

I’m a bit surprised that she doesn’t seem to have any scars at all on her—I’ve got scars from this whole ordeal, and I’ve been hiding in my one-bedroom the whole time, not fist-fighting dick demons. Still, somehow her pale skin is untouched, flecked with a few faint freckles on her shoulders and chest, her pristine white flesh almost like porcelain.

I run my fingers over her toned stomach, and a set of muscles burst out to greet me. ‘No, not procelain,’ I think to myself. ‘Marble.’

I’m a bit surprised how ticklish she is. After a bit of hunting, I can find a dozen spots that make her jolt against my hold, trying to flinch or laugh. One just above her wide hips, another at the base of her ribs, one just under her breasts that makes her jiggle with every jolt of pleasure.. . she even has one at the back of her neck, about half-way up.

Even though she’s naked, I don’t touch her breasts. They’re large and perkier than I would have thought, with pink nipples that stiffen and blush red whenever I trace my fingers near her chest or thighs, and then slowly relax when I wander into less sensitive areas of her body.

Her hair mystifies me. Not just because it somehow remained intact through the blast that took out her clothes, but because that fat braid extends all the way down to the small of her back. Even more surprising, it’s tied off with a little pink hair elastic.

“This doesn’t look like a badass warrior’s colour,” I tell Red. “Seems a bit... what’s the word... Tammy?”

Her heart rate and adrenaline spike when she hears the name, and I can almost feel her grasping for the safe-word she was so sure she wouldn’t need.

“Sorry,” I quickly interject. “That was uncalled-for. I didn’t mean anything by it—I just think the idea of keeping a little piece of your old self in your hair is sweet.”

‘It’s a line,’ she warns me, somehow thinking at me through grit teeth. ‘Don’t cross it again.’

The old-self is sacred. Got it.

“I guess angel-hunting is a great way to keep fit,” I say, running my fingertips down her abs while trying to change the subject.

I sense her become more at-ease (well, in terms of traumatic mental turmoil. She’s still helplessly struggling to move her body and cover up, but I can tell she’s getting quite a kick from that discomfort).

I run my fingers down her thighs as I crouch down, bringing myself face-to-face with a perfectly triangular tuft of short red hair and an extremely well-manicured vagina. Her pussy lips are smooth and slick with wetness, with delicate pink labia just barely poking out. It’s more perfect than anything in the old magazines that I suddenly regret not fetching before I set all my belongings on fire—which strikes me as a bit suspicious.

“That has got to be the nicest pussy I’ve ever seen,” I tell her, and then compel her to answer, “How?”

I can feel resistance for a moment, but she seems unable to cheese the question like she had before. “I can heal,” she blurts. “Mend wounds, fix scars. I’ve figured out how to use that to make little changes.”

I smile and nod. “I’ve got to admit, it’s a work of art.”

Red’s blush creeps over her whole body.

“You can thank me,” I order.

“Thank you, sir.” The thanks are completely against her will (and give her another little kick of submission), but the sir is all her.

“Sir,” I repeat. “I guess it’s fitting for someone who’s working you like a puppet.” I add as an order, “Don’t you agree?”

“Yes, sir.”

I can see her excitement run out of her perfect little sculpture and start to trickle down her leg. Such a work of art—it would be a waste not to get a guided tour.

I don’t bother saying anything this time—I get the sense that it isn’t helping at all. Instead, I have her reach down start narrating.

“This stuff is all basically untouched,” she says as she runs one hand through her fiery public hair and slides the other along her outer lips. “I shut down the hair follicles to keep it neat, but that’s it.”

“You sound very proud of what you had.” It’s a comment, but I implore her to reply.

Her blush deepens. A part of her wants to crawl under a rock and die of embarrassment, but the other part feeds off of it. “Yeah...” she mutters.

“Keep going,” I order her.

She spreads herself for me with her left hand while her right strokes the delicate little lips that barely protrude from her mound. “This is mostly what I changed,” she tells me, her mind roiling with embarrassment. “They’re—nicer.”

I can sense her trying to avoid giving me an answer, so I press her a little harder.

“I made them smaller. I didn’t like how big they were before.”

“Why not?” I ask.

“I had...” a bit more resistance, but it’s almost superficial. “...someone I liked who made fun of them when I was young.”

I nod. “Can you change them back for me?”

Hard resistance. “Yes.”

“Do it.”

I can feel a wrinkle of doubt thumbing at that safe word, but she swallows it and complies, removing her hands so that I can watch the change.

It’s actually far more minor than I had expected. Her slick pink lips grow maybe a half-inch, keeping them far within the normal realm. I’m guessing the words that scarred her in the before-times were more of a desperate attempt to hurt her, and not an actual opinion.

“Spread them for me,” I order.

She doesn’t even offer any resistance as she complies, reaching down and spreading her newly-restored labia. It’s the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen (though it could be the dozen-or-so years of loneliness talking)—definitely preferable to the uncanny valley that it was before.

Every second I sit and stare, the swirl of emotions grows stronger in her. Anticipation. Dread. Shame. Excitement. Lust. She doesn’t know if I’m going to laugh at her or comfort her, but she desperately wants to get it over with.

I lean forward and plant a kiss right on her left labia, and get the first taste of a woman since—I don’t even known anymore. She’s sweet and tangy, and the taste sears itself into my brain as I go in to kiss the other side.

Red’s breath speeds up as I kiss her again, this time flicking my tongue towards the sensitive junction before finally wrapping my lips around the hood covering her most sensitive point.

She jumps and starts to quake, and I get an idea.

With a thought, I’m able to block her orgasm. Her sensations get stuck at the climb, moments before its peak, but her subconscious won’t let her over the edge.

If the brain can control pleasure, I wonder if it can amplify it?

I continue to savour her sweet taste as I poke and prod, trying to tweak her sensitivity like an idiot as I go. Her hands continue to stroke herself around my mouth, one finger sliding into her dripping canal as the other pulls at her inner lips to peel off the hood and feed me her sensitive clit.

I try everything—thinking verbal commands, imagining fireworks, picturing the orgasm cake from that disappointing Matrix sequel. What finally does it is the most obvious visualization ever:

I just make a little knob in her mind, and turn it.

The change is instant. She lets loose a grunt so deep and primal that it works its way beyond my control, and her hand snaps to the back of my head, forcing my tongue to take its place deep inside her. Her pleasure crashes against her subconscious order not to orgasm and she shakes harder. I can hear her breathing catch in her mouth, escaping as a little squeak as she throws one leg around my shoulder, somehow managing to keep her balance on one leg while the other heel digs into my back.

Remembering how her legs are built—not to mention the damage she can do when she’s actually in control—I decide that maybe it’s best that I release her.

All barriers gone, Red tumbles onto her back, dragging me to the ground with her. Her other leg wraps around my head, and I do my best to keep up with her thrusts as her pussy spasms and spurts of her overflowing lust.

Eventually, her shaking begins to slow down, and her death-grip on my head loosens. I give her beautiful labia one last kiss and then climb up her, rolling over beside her.

“For the record,” I tell her, “I think they’re beautiful.”

“Wha...” she says, her mind still a post-coital fog.

“You know,” I say, reaching down to give the soaking mess between her legs a gentle stroke.

Her chest heaves as she struggles to catch her breath. “Oh,” she manages. “’Kay.”

“Thanks for that,” I tell her, rolling to my side and wrapping my arm around her waist.

“For what?” she says with a mischievous smile. “You were the one doing all the favors.”

I smile back at her. “You can return those favors later. I’m goddamn beat.”

Red reaches across and begins to stroke the front of my pants. “You know, you could make me square up now.” Squeezing my stiff member, she adds, “I know at least one part of you wants to.”

I laugh. “My body is willing, but my brain is still trying to squeeze itself back into my skull.”

Red’s hand stops and she looks down to her muscular thighs. “Oh,” she mutters. “Sorry about that.”

I gently stroke one of the ticklish spots I’d found and say, “That’s not what I meant. I’m kind of new at this whole brain-bending thing. Though if I ever have any un-cracked walnuts, now I know who to call.”

She smiles and lets her head thump against the hardwood beneath us. “Well, new or not, you’re crazy good at it. Just—make sure everyone use do that to wants it done. Misusing that never goes well.”

Misusing? “So you know someone else who can do it?”

Red sighs. “It’s none of your business, but worth a mention. Omega used to be crazy good at it.”

“Is that your leader?”

She chuckles. “Yeah, I know—his name was always a big dumb thing. Anyways, messing with peoples’ brains was the first thing he learned. So one day, he rescues a girl who shows some promise, and he decides to teach her.”

“A cute redhead?” I ask in a sing-song way, horribly misreading her tone.

She gives me an icy stare which smacks the dumb smile off my face. “An orphan who’d lived through a hell I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.”

“Sorry.”

“He takes her under his wing and teaches her the same way he learned, and she starts trying to use it to get closer to him. She knows can’t overpower him, so she tries to go through his girlfriend.”

She lets out a sigh and continues. “The girlfriend manages to resist, and the student panics. Tries to force control. Massive embolism. Game over.”

“Fuck” is all I can think to say. “What happened to the girl?”

Red’s soul hardens a bit as she thinks about it. “I don’t know. Not exactly, anyway. Apparently he used some weird ethereal shit I never learned to reach into her brain and tear out the parts that remembered her training. Took out a chunk of her fear and anxiety, too.”

“Is she alive?”

Red smiles. “She’s actually doing pretty well, all things considered. She lost a huge chunk of herself, but what’s left in her is harmless and fun-loving. She takes care of all the kids back home.”

Kids. I didn’t care much for them, but the world has felt so goddamn strange without them.

“Sorry about making you... undo your work,” I mutter. “I think that might have crossed a line.”

Red twists slightly to punch me in the arm. “If you make me cum like that, I’ll turn it into whatever the fuck you want,” she laughs, adding with a smirk, “I’m just glad you didn’t make me re-grow my dick.”

“Your what?” A word has never snapped to my lips faster.

“Relax, Captain Homophobe. I was joking.”

I glance up towards the cracked door and say, “Sorry, I don’t know if you know this, but I come from a somewhat conservative town.

Red laughs. “Yeah, I figured.”