The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

As Jen and I pass through the buzzing quiet of the early-summer day, down the street towards the river I’ve been using to bathe, I start to wonder how many survivors there could possibly be. After all, the danger is gone. Ring the bells. Sound the trumpets. Lead the parade. Ding, dong, the witch is dead.

Could Jen and I be the last ones?

Jen isn’t as off-put by the silence as I am. When our holy captors settled in, silence quickly became the norm, save for the occasional stomping and shouting from the sentinels—people who were once proud leaders of the community, cracking down on made-up decency violations to curry power and favour. Silent walks were one of few fringe benefits of the bad times. Jen was actually the one who first pointed it out to me; she usually made a point of strolling around in the early morning for hours before the shop opened.

“It’s only a five minute walk to the river this way, just through the woodlot” I tell her. “We can go around and access it through the park if you want a more leisurely stroll.”

Jen laughs to herself. “Naughty boy. Are you just trying to get me to walk around town with jizz on my face?” she asks.

“No, I, uh...”

She gives me a playful shove. “I’m messing with you. I don’t know if you could tell when we were...” instead of offering a word, she blushes and continues, “...but it’s been a long time since I’ve had a proper bath. We can take the scenic route after.”

“It has?” I ask. “I thought ‘cleanliness is next to godliness’ was supposed to be a big thing with those assholes.”

Jen purses her lips and her mood darkens a few shades. Of course it does, you idiot—you’re drudging up the one thing she wants to forget more than anything.

“It is,” she says, with much of the joy sapped out of her voice. “But I was branded a sinner and locked away. My bath was only ever filled with the run-off from the regular patrons, whose bath was filled with the run-off from the preferred parishioners, whose bath was filled with the run-off from the watchers, whose bath was filled with the run-off from the sentinels, whose bath was filled with the run-off from the clergy.”

Yeesh. I manage to keep my reaction to myself, and scramble through my mind for something that will make her feel better. I finally settle on: “Well, you’re going to love my spot. I found a place where the river eddies just on the far side of the lot. It’s about chest-deep, nice and secluded, and when you’re in there you’re just goddamn bludgeoned with peace and beauty.”

A bit of warmth returns to Jen’s smile. “Who doesn’t love a peaceful bludgeoning?”

“That’s the spirit.”

Once we cross the threshold into the woodlot, we walk in silence. I feel awkward and am tempted to try to make more awkward small-talk, but Jen’s mind radiates serene happiness. She stumbles over roots while staring up at the canopy of leaves, but when I grab her arm to steady her she just sloughs my hand down off her elbow and catches it in her palm.

I squeeze Jen’s hand and turn to her, pressing my finger to my lips. I can feel something nearby.

Fear and shame, weighing down so hard on excitement that it becomes molten liquid. Someone’s in my spot.

“What?” Jen whispers to me.

“Keep quiet,” I whisper back as I step as lightly as I can.

Jen seems to follow suit, but she apparently hasn’t spent as much time as I have skulking around the woods out here on the outer edge of my roommate’s sphere of influence, so I can still hear dirt and leaves crunch between her feet.

It should be fine. The running water and rustling trees actually make a lot of ambient noise to get lost in. We should still be able to get close enough to see before we’re discovered.

I take Jen a bit off the beaten path, finding cover beneath the young saplings and low brushes that push out from the river’s edge.

“What the fuck?” I hear Jen whisper almost too loud.

I bring my finger to her lips, but agree with her completely. For a few moments we both watch, not believing our eyes. At the river’s edge, young woman with a fair olive complexion is submerged to her generous-sized breasts, splashing water on herself with her left hand, scrubbing beneath the surface with her right. It’s hard to place her ethnicity—most likely a dash southeast Asian and maybe middle-eastern, mixed in with various shades of white.

“Who is that?” Jen asks, this time so quiet that she’s barely audible. Thankfully, reading minds is even better than reading lips.

I look to her and shrug. “Wanderer?” I whisper back.

The girl’s head snaps up towards the far side of the river. Her body freezes for a moment, but then goes back to splashing water onto her neck and chest.

Jen shakes her head. “Here? No. Has to be local.”

I narrow my eyes. “She’s too young to be local.”

The girl in the river suddenly takes a deep breath as her eyelids flutter a little, and I finally realize what she’s been “scrubbing”. Once her little tremor passes, the young woman continues splashing water on her breasts and continues to ‘scrub’ herself under the water.

“Is she—” Jen begins.

I smile. “Told you it was a nice area.”

A stiff breeze works its way through the trees, and I catch a silvery glint from the shore as the lady-of-the-lake once again snaps her head around to make sure the wind isn’t about to snitch.

“I feel a little guilty for watching,” I mutter in a futile attempt to guilt myself into looking away.

Of course, I fail horribly. The woman is fucking gorgeous.

“She looks sort of familiar,” Jen whispers as she wraps her arm around my waist, sliding it under the black shirt she picked out for me. “Hot, too.”

“She’s got to be what—early twenties?” I say, absentmindedly caressing Jen’s thigh over her loose skirt.

“If that,” she returns with a nod, her fingers dipping into the waistband of the sweatpants that I’m just now realizing that she’d given me with ulterior motives.

The girl in the river opens her mouth in a silent moan as she sinks a little lower into the water, and I finally realize how impressive it is that her ministrations aren’t making any noise. If we couldn’t see the expression on her beautiful face, we would have no way of knowing what she’s doing.

“God damn,” I whisper as I rub Jen’s thigh, hiking up her skirt a little more with every motion. “She’s like a schlick-ninja.” I smile at Jen as I finally run out of dress and feel her smooth inner-thigh, already warm with excitement.

Wait—smooth? Jen wouldn’t have been able to shave in the torture-dress we found her in. Did Red somehow magically wax her while fixing her legs?

My train of thought is derailed as Jen boldly plunges her hand into these ugly elastic-waisted sweats and wraps her fingers around my turgid member. She gives me a wicked little grin and says, “First to blow our cover loses.”

My dear, you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into. I very slowly slip my hand up Jen’s leg and ever-so-gently brush my pinky against her bare wetness, paying careful attention of the bells and whistles that go off in her mind.

I’m surprised that Jen stops stroking me for a moment as I touch her, a little shiver running through her body. I haven’t even started using my mind tricks. Does she seriously expect to win? Maybe losing is the whole point...

I smile to myself as I reach up to cover her mouth before brushing the pad of my middle finger along the entire length of her pussy, stopping at the tip to give her clit hood a gentle circle or two.

Jen mewls into my hand, her strokes resuming, but becoming more and more sporadic as she loses control.

I feel the pressure of excitement in the river burst in a spectacular (but still completely silent) fashion, and in an instant it’s replaced with satisfaction. “Wait,” I say as I withdraw my hand.

Jen gives me a disappointed look and reluctantly releases my shaft.

“She’s stopped,” I tell her, gesturing to the river.

Sure enough, the young woman has waded to the edge and is fiddling with the metal object I’d noticed—what looks like metal bikini bottoms that kind of remind me of what barbarian women wore on those old heavy metal posters.

“Sinner!” comes a shout from the far side of the river. The voice is practically a squawk, a loud slap to the face that makes both Jen and I leap a little.

The girl in the river panics and quickly snaps a fastener on one end of her bottoms, but the other slips out of her panicked fingers and lands in the river with a plop.

From the woods comes a woman in her fifties dressed in a nun’s habit, her right hand clutching a short whip covered in bloody barbed hooks.

“Whore,” she hisses.

“I was just—” the girl stammers as she fumbles backwards, “I was bathing and a lock came off. I was just trying to put it back on.”

Suddenly, the nun’s demeanor changes, and the young woman freezes.

“It’s okay, my child. Which cloister are you from?”

“I’m... from the... the church...” the young woman stammers.

I can feel rage and poison radiating from the nun, and it only amplifies when she puts on the kind face. Thankfully my erection has completely deflated; it already feels weird that I might have to beat up an old nun. It’d be downright fucked to do so with a residual chub.

Still, the nun came from somewhere, and I’d like to see if I can learn a little more about where before I put on my hero hat.

I feel Jen’s courage build, so I gently grab her forearm and shake my head, silently mouthing “Not yet.”

“We’re all from the church, sweetie,” the nun says as she steps into the water, the hooks on her flail sinking beneath the surface. “Tell me which church and I can get you home.”

The young woman shakes her head. “It’s... it’s gone. There’s nowhere left to go.” The girl grabs a bland white linen dress from the shoreline and hugs it to her chest, her plate mail bikini (or, as I now realize, her chastity belt) hanging open on her left side. As she backs out of the water, I can see long half-faded bruises along her back and buttocks.

The nun approaches, submerged past the weapon, quickly approaching striking distance of the girl. “It’s okay, child,” she says. “We’ll take you in. You and any other poor little lambs who lost their shepherd. After all, it’s a cruel and sinful world out there.”

Fuck. The nun has a ‘we’. I guess Red warned me of this—the faithful trying to rebuild so they can rule a new dark age. And it sounds like they’re already organized.

The nun slowly reaches out her left hand, drawing back with her right, the flail barely beneath the surface of the water, clearly poised to strike.

The girl’s eyes are locked on the rippling image of the flail, but sighs and deflates. Her whole essence is washed in helplessness and defeat.

“Wait!” I shout out as I jog down the path.

The girl looks to me with resigned indifference, while the nun looks at me with minor annoyance.

“Why?” the nun plainly asks.

My heart races, and my gift slips from my grasp. “I’m this girl’s guardian,” I mutter. “I’m from the, uh, Baptists. I’m a watcher. I’m, uh watching her.”

Smooth.

The nun snarls at me and turns back to the girl, evidently not wanting to give me the time of day.

“Okay, look, can I talk to you for a second?” I ask, finally mustering enough self-control to nudge the suggestion at her.

Somehow, the suggestion bounces off the crazy old bitch, and she continues her slow approach.

“Okay, fine, I’m a sinner,” I stammer. “I have satanic images all over my body. See?” I roll up a sleeve and flash my far-from-Satan-as-you-can-get ink at her.

“A worthless person, a wicked man,” the old lady spits at no-one-in-particular, “goes about with crooked speech, winks with his eyes, signals with his feet...”

Fuck this.

“GET THE FUCK OVER HERE NOW,” I shout at her, from both my head and my mind.

The nun stops, lowers her flail, and turns towards me. Her jaw clenches as she slowly wades over to the steep slope of the shore, her eyes full of rage and hatred as she emerges.

“Devil,” she hisses, and then spits on my cheek.

“Me?” I ask. Time to show her what time it is. “You sow misery everywhere you go. You get off on pain. You take pleasure in torturing others. Your path to so-called good has made you a monster. But that’s not the saddest part.”

I stare in the nun’s eyes. Her body shakes as she struggles against my mental grip with every fiber of her being, trying to shake herself loose to collect the girl in the river and fuck off back to—wherever she came from. Her will is surprisingly strong—likely a side effect of being both holy and batshit fucking crazy—but, try as she might, she can’t break free. I guess physically restraining a woman of the cloth with psychic powers is WAY easier than getting her to actually listen to you.

I push a little harder. “The saddest part is everything you’ve worshipped has been a lie.”

The nun’s brain literally doesn’t even register the order, so I repeat myself, driving every single word in with all my might, like I’m hitting a railroad spike with a sledgehammer.

“Your. Beliefs. Are. All. Lies.”

The old psycho’s mind yields, but not at all like I expect. My commands don’t drive the words into her—they drive the words through her. Her steel cage of faith and self-righteousness snaps and shatters, and all at once every ounce of her resistance leaves—alongside the rest of her mind.

Blood begins to run freely from her eyes and ears. Her body stands for a few moments, her beating heart fuelling a car without a driver, until I feel her brainstem collapse too, the last domino in the chain, and suddenly every muscle in her body goes limp.

I swear and stumble backwards, falling flat on my ass. “What the... what did I...” I mutter.

I glance down to the river, where the young woman is staring at me, horrified. She says nothing, but the nun’s last word repeats itself over and over in her mind: “Devil.”

“Wait!” I hear Jen shout as she runs past me.

The young woman’s entire world is terror, but traces of helpless surrender are still lurking in the back of her mind, chaining her to the spot.

“He was bluffing,” Jen says, running up to the shore and stopping a reasonable distance from the young woman. “He’s a human, just like you and me.”

The girl blinks. “He killed the nun,” she says. “He made her bleed from... from everywhere...”

“That wasn’t him,” Jen says. “That lady died of a stroke. I saw it happen to my godfather... before all this. It’s scary, but it happens.”

“Stroke?” she asks, her mind calming a bit.

Jen nods. “It’s when a vein in your head pops. It can happen when you’re stressed out or angry.”

I can’t tell if Jen thinks she’s telling the truth or lying to cover for me. She isn’t lying about her godfather—I remember hearing the story of that poor bastard dropping in front of his whole family. They say one second he was screaming at Jen’s dad about how Jen was going to turn into a gay communist because her parents refused to home-school, and the next he’s face-down in his plate, sucking his last breaths through overcooked mashed potato.

What I can’t get a bead on, however, is if she really believes I had nothing to do with the nun. She’s met Red. She knows powers exist.

Jen reaches her arm out to help the girl onto the shore, and the young lady hesitantly takes it, eyes still suspiciously darting towards me.

I’m tempted to reach out with my mind and calm her down a bit, but after what just happened... probably not a great idea.

“You poor thing,” Jen says as she gives the girl a once-over, her gaze stopping at the remaining chastity belt lock. “What in the hell have they been doing to you?”

“Foul language is for foul creatures,” the girl silently mutters, reciting something that she’s clearly heard countless times.

Jen stands up to look the young woman in the eyes. “Sweetie, I know what you’ve been through. And I know what you’re thinking.”

Well this is interesting.

Jen lifts her shirt to the ribs, revealing the grid of dark wounds caused by the dress. “They would sometimes let me go, just so they could catch me and punish me more. They called it a test, but it wasn’t. It was just a way to crush your spirits.” She lowers her shirt and continues, “Well this isn’t a test. The bad times are over. The monsters are gone. And you’re free.”

The girl nods slowly and begins shaking.

Despite trying to keep my brain to myself, I glean something from her mind. “She’s never been on her own before,” I say.

Finally, the girl makes sense. All the kids disappeared after the world ended. I’d always assumed they were killed—and most of them were—but there’s no way to say one of the denominations didn’t squirrel their kids away. Maybe a youth pastor with a heart of gold somehow managed to convince the marauding angels that the Sunday school kids were worth saving?

“How old were you when they took you, sweetie?” Jen asks, slipping into full babysitter mode.

Tears fill the young woman’s eyes. “Nine.”

So she’d be what—yeah, early-twenties, I guess. And that means she’s spent more than half her life locked away.

I can tell that Jen runs the numbers, too, but she tucks them away and continues. “What’s your name?”

“Bunk Seven.”

Jen shakes her head. “Your real name. From before.”

The young woman shakes her head.

“You’re far too pretty to be a Bunk Seven. How about... Guinevere?”

The young woman looks up to Jen with misty eyes.

“King Arthur?” Jen asks, fishing for recognition. “Lady in the Lake? Magic sword?”

“She’s a legendary princess,” I tell Bunk Seven. “A delicate beauty who follows her heart out of a bad situation.” Thus starting a war that gets everyone killed, I choose to omit.

“Guinevere?” the young woman repeats, her voice barely a whisper.

“Or Gwen,” Jen follows.

Our lady of the lake nods. “Gwen. I... I like it.”

Jen glances over to the lump of nun on the shore and sighs.

I don’t need to read her mind to know what she’s thinking. “Gwen,” I say, “would you mind if we very quickly hopped in the river for a quick scrub? We wouldn’t want to offend milady with our foul odours.”

Gwen and Jen both scrunch their brows at me.

“Milady?” Jen asks as she shimmies out of her skirt.

“I dunno,” I mutter as I throw my shirt onto the ground. “It’s knight shit, right?”

“Yeah. White knight shit, you dork.” And with that, Jen flings the last of her clothes aside and leaps into the river.

I shake my head and smile, slipping in after her.

From the shore, Gwen watches us, still hugging her plain white dress, her fear and dread now contained behind a curtain of optimistic doubt—definitely a good start.

I wake with a start as I feel a pair of lips press against my neck, and suddenly I’m standing above myself, laying on the linoleum floor atop a makeshift bed of bible-themed clothing, with Jen’s beautiful naked body by my side. Beyond her, Gwen is curled up facing away from us, wearing a silky nightgown and snuggling up with unseasonably warm flannel pyjamas as though they were either a lover or a teddy bear.

“This is an interesting dream,” I mutter to myself.

“ZZT!”

I literally jump through the roof as I feel that long red ponytail rub against the nape of my neck, sailing through the tiled ceiling and slowing to a hover on the roof of the strip mall.

I’m more than a little disgusted to see some human remains—half an adult, as far as I can tell, likely thrown up here in the first wave and left up here to skeletonise over the years.

“Red?” I ask, looking around.

The redhead—or a naked spectral version of her anyways—melts up through the roof, floating at my face level to give me a gentle peck on the lips before sinking back down to her regular height.

“Is this a dream?”

Red smiles. “Nope. This is some of that weird shit I was telling you about.”

I close my eyes and sigh. “So you’ve been watching me.”

Red shakes her head. I can feel a playful ‘why would you think that’ work its way to her lips, but stopping as she pieces together why I’d ask. “What happened?”

I sigh. I think. Can I sigh? I don’t seem to be breathing right now, so I guess technically the motion is just theatre.

“Well?” she asks.

“I... accidentally killed someone.”

Silence. Punctuated by disappointment, with a hint of sadness. “Already?”

“I’m sorry. We found someone—a survivor, younger than everyone else—and...”

“Jesus, man, you’re supposed to be subtle. The whole point is not to let people know you have the gift. You claim your town, rebuild society, and then when you die old and happy the world rolls on free from all that woo-woo bullshit.”

I sit in silence, staring out at the quiet street. “I’m sorry. I was trying to protect her.”

“Wait, protect who?”

“The girl we met.”

Red’s mind steadies. “The one you accidentally killed.”

“No, she’s in the shop. There was a nun trying to take her away.”

Red’s solemn expression curls into a cruel smile. “The bitches with the knouts?”

“Knouts?”

Red rolls her eyes. “Hooky whips.”

“Oh. Uh, yeah.”

The redhead bursts into laughter. “Oh my God, I thought you meant you killed the innocent person you found. Yeah, no, I don’t care about that. Fuck those old whores.” Her smile melts a little as she adds, “...but you need to make sure your friends down there can keep it secret. If you’re going to be a leader, they can’t know you’ve got a gift.”

I nod.

The mischievous, borderline-cruel smile returns. “So... how’d the old bitch die?”

I shake my head. Her enthusiasm feels extremely tacky. “I... told her that she believed in a lie.”

Red’s smile melts a bit. “Wait, that’s it?”

I glance nervously away from her. “I... may have told her... kind of hard.”

Red nods. “Wow. You literally killed a nun with atheism. That’s... actually kind of impressive. Not to mention poetic.”

I shake my head. “It was way easier than I thought. All that... what was it, faith? Rage? Certainty? Resistance? Whatever it was that strengthened her mind also made it super brittle. Just... one hard shove and the whole goddamn thing shattered.”

Red sighs, throwing an arm around my waist (which I can somehow feel, even though we can both pass through walls) and looking out into the night with me. “I never learned to do that shit, but Omega did tell me some advice I could give you: always be gentle. The mind is a river. It has a direction it wants to flow. The trick is digging a channel it wants to flow down.”

I nod slowly.

“Does that make sense to you?”

“Kind of.”

“Good,” Red chuckles, “because I have no idea what the fuck it means.”

I wrap my arm around Red’s shoulder, and she leans her head into my chest. “I still owe you a mind-blowing orgasm, you know.”

She catches me off-guard, but I somehow manage to keep my head. “You can do that here?”

Red smirks and nods. “It’s super freaky, too. We’re translucent, so you’ll be able to see your dick inside me. Plus it feels just like the real McCoy. And best of all, no physical body means no risk of pregnancy.”

My mind drifts to my companions downstairs. “No physical body? So my real body will...”

“Yep, jizz all over yourself,” Red laughs. “But trust me, it’s worth the mess.”

That may be true, but when I last saw my body I was sleeping on my side, and I think waking up having covered everyone in wet-dream will make kind of a shitty impression on the newcomer. “Tempting, but maybe when my real-life dick isn’t pointed at the new girl.”

“Are you sure?” the little seductress asks, caressing her (literally and figuratively) otherworldly body as she flutters her eyelashes. “’Cause if you wanted to, I don’t know if I’d be able to stop you...”

I extend my mind and seize her body, forcing her to float up to my eye level. I reach out and gently caress her cheek—which I can feel warm and soft against my fingers—and then effortlessly pass my hand through her face, as though she suddenly wasn’t there. “Sorry,” I say, releasing her.

Red smiles and shrugs. “Alright, tease. Rain check on the astral nookie, I guess.”

I nod. “Oh, you forgot your knife.”

Red smiles. “Give me some credit. I left it for you on purpose.”

“Really?”

She nods. “No telling how many people you’ll have to cut out of angelic threads. Just make sure to smash it once you’re sure the town is clear.”

“Oh.” I don’t want to sound selfish, but I have to ask, “How many years did I burn off my life using that thing the other day?”

Red throws her head back and laughs even harder than before.

“Umm...” is all I can manage. Is my shortened lifespan really funnier than a dead nun? Also, did my brain just string those words together?

She takes a second to compose herself. “Sorry, I kinda let you believe that to see how you’d handle it, but that’s not how life force works. Life force is just energy. Take a nap and have a sandwich, you’ll be right as rain.”

“For fuck’s sake...” I mutter under my breath.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m impressed that your friend offered to take it from you to do it herself. Seems like you lucked out finding her first.”

Jen just talked a scared young woman who thought I was the literal devil into trusting us enough to sleep next to us. “Trust me, you have no idea.”

I enjoy Red’s company for a while, pulling her to my side as we silently enjoy the night, when a super inappropriate question pops into my mind—one that I wouldn’t even think of entertaining with anyone else.

“So how would you do it?” I ask Red.

She shrugs. “Your choice, of course. But, if it’s up to me, mouth first, then pussy. Then pussy again if you’re up for a third round. Which you will be, because, like I said before, I can heal.”

“What? No, I mean kill me.”

“Oh. Well that’s easy, I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.”

I smile. “Aww, you big softie.”

She chuckles and shakes her head. “No, literally, I couldn’t. You’d definitely stop me. If we had to, Omega would probably just rip your brain out of your skull through the astral plane.”

I narrow my eyes. “He can’t do that.”

Red shrugs. “I don’t mean literally—though he probably could. I’m plugged into your soul. It’s why we can talk like this when we’re thousands of miles apart. It’s the same way you plug into other people to command them. Omega could just zap the cord. Mainline an atom bomb worth of energy directly into your brainpan.”

I’m both intrigued about this method of execution, and super regretful that I asked. “I take it that’s why you... plugged in with me in the first place?”

Red reaches down behind me and gives my ass a little squeeze. “If he wanted to kill you, he would have done it by now. Think of it as my way of giving you my number.”

“Wait... so this was a booty call?”

Red giggles as she floats above me. “Guess we’ll never know,” she says as she kisses me on the forehead, sending me careening back into my body.