The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Rebekah pulled her cap snugly over her cropped hair as she came up out of the cabin. The late afternoon sun shone down on the sleek small yacht her friend Brittany had rented for their two-week vacation. The air was warm and sweet with late summer, and there wasn’t a hint of breeze. Brittany was at the bow, gazing out over the rail. She’d laid her shirt on the deck, leaving her willowy body in swimsuit and shorts.

As Rebekah reached her side, Brittany yawned hugely. Rebekah grinned. “Long watch last night, huh?” Both women were accomplished behind the wheel of small watercraft, and neither was content to simply ride at anchor without someone keeping an eye on the weather. They alternated shifts during the night. Rebekah was getting a lot done on her book of poetry. Brittany was halfway through her fifth trashy romance novel. Despite the lack of sleep, Rebekah felt much more relaxed and stress-free than when they’d left from the Keys. She could almost feel the worry lines around her mouth and eyes disappearing. Brittany, however, looked tired. “I tossed after you came up, but didn’t want to bug you. I really want to take a good, long nap before tonight.”

Rebekah nodded, gazing out over the clear waters. Her clear brown eyes noted the few, distant clouds and the smooth surface of the waves. “Why don’t you go below and sleep? This is supposed to be vacation. You won’t be happy if you don’t, and besides...your shoulders are starting to get red.”

Brittany swore softly. A fair-skinned, green-eyed redhead, she took extra care not to get much sun. Sometimes it wasn’t enough. “I thought I got enough sunblock on. OK, I’ll do that, if you’re sure you don’t mind?”

“If you don’t get some aloe and vitamin E oil on that, you’re going to be miserable tomorrow. Shoo. I have an inspiration, anyway.” Rebekah patted her back pocket, where her pad and pen rested. The outline of the pad—or its hundred predecessors—had worn a white outline in the denim. “The weather forecast is clear for the next two days, minimal wind tonight. We’ll be able to see zillions of stars.”

Brittany didn’t need more convincing. “Ok, Bec...I’ll doze for a bit. Don’t forget to wake me for dinner.” She squeezed Rebekah’s forearm and padded back to the cabin, disappearing from view.

Rebekah smiled to herself as she pulled over the light deck chair and table she favored for writing. The sea was so smooth she could see the clouds reflected in its surface. It’s like glass, she thought, settling down. Like mirrors. It’s lovely. I never thought the sea could be like this.

She began to compose, a poem in villanelle format coming easily to her mind. Even the heat didn’t jar her concentration. The sweat trickled down her back, tickling slightly. She stayed focused on the rhyme scheme of the poem. When she was done with it, though, the rhythm seemed a bit wrong. She tried first one way, then another.

Frustrated, she set the pad down and looked up just in time to see a dolphin break surface with a splash about a hundred feet away. She caught her breath, leaning forward in the chair. The mammal was huge, and it was clearly watching her. The sunset illuminated its muzzle and head, making it appear to glow. It made a clacking noise, then dove and disappeared. A second later, the waves it had raised in its appearance and departure reached the boat. They slapped the sides in a curious rhythm that lingered in Rebekah’s attention for a moment.

She realized she was holding her breath and released it with a sigh. A scan of the horizon showed no dolphin, much less the pod that should have been visible as well. The sea had returned to its former stillness, with no evidence anything had happened at all.

Rebekah crossed her arms and then hugged herself instead. She’d been witness to something incredible. Why did she feel alone and cheated? The sunset, usually her favorite part of any day on the water, didn’t help. She resisted the urge to wake Brittany. Her friend had been truly exhausted, and she could tell her story later as well as sooner. Still, by the time the moon rose over the waters, Rebekah felt no calmer. She paced the deck, eyes scanning the horizon, searching for something. The dolphin, another boat, anything.

Nothing greeted her seeking gaze. The water gave no hint of anything below the surface. She felt herself growling in frustration.

It was a relief when she sensed the first light breeze on her cheek. She let her eyes close, taking off her cap to let the wind ruffle her hair. The cooling was such a relief that she pulled her shirt up and out, pouching it to catch the wind and dry the sweat on her belly. She stretched, long and sensuously, under the stars. The frustrated tension and sensation of waiting faded for a moment. Then she looked up and it was gone for good, replaced by shock and unease.

Huge, puffy clouds were covering the waning crescent. She grabbed the deck chair and table and took them below, strapping them in. Brittany was snoring audibly. Rebekah hesitated, but didn’t wake her friend. If this was bad, there would be time to do so. Instead, she turned on the radio. A small frown creased her forehead as she listened. They were reporting high cirrus clouds, not the towering cumulus she had seen.

Maybe I’m going insane, she thought uncertainly. I know I saw storm clouds. I’ve never had a visual hallucination before, but maybe I’ve had two tonight! She darted out to the deck. The wind was still blowing very lightly. The ripples on the water sparkled in the light of a still-visible moon. As Rebekah stood still on the deck, a gust played with a lock of hair. She shivered, then went still in amazement as she heard someone whispering. It wasn’t Brittany. It wasn’t the radio. Someone was breathing a word into her ear. It sounded as though someone was right next to her, confiding a secret. She heard it over and over, even though no one was there.

“Mistral...”

The wind wrapped itself around her as she shivered. She didn’t even bother to look at the sky, instead kneeling shakily on the deck. I’m going nuts, Rebekah thought. I’m going stark nuts in the middle of a huge body of water and I’m in charge of a borrowed boat. I’m having hallucinations, and it can’t be a flashback...I’m clean. And no one could have dosed me with anything way out here...

“Mistral...” She closed her eyes against the breeze, letting herself shiver with reaction. The slow flap of the sail in the grip of the wind was noted without the urge to do anything about securing it. The voice of the breeze continued to whisper in her ear, calling that name, then her name in turn.

“Mistral...Rebekah...”

Keeping her eyes closed, she whispered without knowing why “I’m here.”

The wind suddenly picked up cold, whipping her cap off and blowing it into the suddenly-dark sea. She gasped and huddled down for a second. Then her survival instincts kicked in: radio or not, this was a storm and it was approaching fast. She was blown offbalance for a moment as she tried to rise, lurching rather ungracefully to her feet. She stumbled into the cabin, swearing.

In the safety of the small bridge, the wheel was moving back and forth a little of its own accord. She grabbed it and held on to it, trying to steady herself and the boat as one. It was then that she realized she’d made a mistake: she hadn’t done anything with the sail. The small craft was going to be buffeted and possibly overturned if she didn’t take that down.

“Brittany!” she yelled. “I need you!”

She heard her friend hit the floor with a thump as the boat tossed in an unexpectedly large wave. “FUCK!” came the undignified complaint from the other room. “Becca! What’s going on?”

“Get the wheel! We’re getting a storm blowing up, I need to get the sail!” Rebekah hollered urgently. She could see the rain beginning to lash the deck. “Hurry, dammit!”

Brittany staggered in and grabbed the wheel. “What the fuck, the weather radio never...Go! I’ve got her!” Still half-asleep, her eyes were bloodshot and wide with surprise. “Get the sail down!”

Rebekah didn’t need to be told twice. She ran for the deck, stumbling and bruising her hip on the stairs. Lightning illuminated an entire half of the sky, the wind howling around her. She seized a rope and began to try to get the sail down and furled, before the force of the freshening gale could capsize the craft. She was almost hauled off her feet, the rope burning her hands as it slid out of her grasp and lashed out over the water. She wondered briefly why the wind was blowing toward the storm, rather than away.

As her eyes followed the path of the rigging, she let out a low moan of fear. She saw the answer. It had only been visible for a second against the lit sky, but she’d seen it clearly: a waterspout spun not two miles away. While not large enough to do damage to a big ship, their little craft was in danger from it. It was just as capable of flipping them as any wave. She tensed herself, waiting for the rope to swing back.

Then she waves stopped, the wind calmed, around her, and everything went still. Rebekah blinked, startled. The yacht leveled in the water. The sea became still again.

She blinked and rubbed her eyes. The waterspot still spun. She could dimly hear its roar. Forty feet away, she could see the waves lashing just as fiercely as they had a moment before. It seemed like a bubble of calm surrounded the boat. The waves broke on an invisible barrier. She could see foam flying.

“I have gone insane,” she whispered to herself. “This is not happening. This is a dream.”

As if in answer, the sea churned near the rail and two round, beaked heads surfaced. She stared, too stunned to even question, as the pair of huge dolphins squeaked and clacked at her. Then another head broke the surface between them. This one looked like the head of a man.

At least, it looked like a man’s head at first. The eyes drew her attention immediately, though. They were half again too big to be a man’s, and they were whiteless, appearing a uniform jet black. She violently pinched herself right on the bruise she’d gotten on the stairs, unable to believe what she was seeing.

The man lifted a hand with webbed fingers, gesturing. Red sparkles seemed to pour out from his palm. They eddied for a moment, then flew straight toward her. She stepped back in horror, but they formed a net around her body. They spun, sparkling brilliantly, before condensing to her skin and seeming to sink into it. She felt herself breathing it. Her skin burned at first, fading to an oddly pleasant tingle.

She felt her body stiffen. She was unable to move. Trapped, she could only watch him as he made the same gesture. This sparkling net drifted into the cabin. She heard Brittany yelp, and then nothing.

The man-thing ducked back under the water, a tail breaking the surface and disappearing. Then she saw the rigging tighten, as if under a heavy weight. She couldn’t react, terror making her heart rise in her throat.

He rose from the water, hand over hand up the rope dangling over the side. His huge, alien eyes were fixed on her. Rebekah found herself unable to breathe. She felt as if she were drowning in the glory of those eyes. Part of her noticed other things: the oddly pale color of his skin, the complete lack of hair, the smooth cords of muscle clearly visible under the skin, the gill slits that fluttered lightly, still wet. Other things...things that made him recognizably male. Naked and totally unashamed, there was a primal strength to him that made her pulse race. As he swung a leg (hadn’t he just had a tail?) over the rail and slid to the deck, she felt herself dampening. The inability to move made her shudder all over.

I don’t understand, she thought in near panic. I don’t understand. What’s going on? Out of the corner of one eye she could see the dark rope of the waterspout, lit in flashes by the lightning. It didn’t seem to be any closer.

He approached her carefully, as one would a caged animal who might suddenly bite. She could not flinch as he gingerly touched her shoulders. His hands were water-cool, the feel of his skin on hers inhuman. Even with her drenched clothes on, she felt totally vulnerable before him. His stare intensified, hands clasping her shoulders. Her breath came in gasps as she helplessly looked back.

Rebekah felt as if she was a book, and he was turning the pages. She lost all track of time as she was forced to look into those giant black eyes. The world seemed to spin and the definition of minutes and seconds lost meaning. The muscular locking that held her in place was all that kept her from slumping bonelessly to the deck. It seemed almost anticlimactic when he slowly loosened his grip in her shoulders and she heard a rich, deep, soft voice in her mind.

Do you understand me?

She felt herself able to move a little, responding without volition by nodding. He smiled then, an oddly human gesture on a face that, while beautiful, was anything but. He spoke aloud, the accent odd but the words clear enough. “I am Mistral, and you are chosen.”

At her look of confusion his expression altered, becoming sorrowful. “It has, indeed, been too long. The Old Ones were right about that. Too many upwellings since any were chosen...” He seemed to be talking to himself, sweet voice sending thrills through her body. “Well enough,” and his gaze sharpened on her once more. “Kneel, consort, and I shall explain...even if you shall forget. I owe you that much. You will be our saving...salvation?”

As he puzzled over the word, she felt her legs giving way beneath her. She felt the deck under her knees, unable to comprehend what was happening or how she got there. She gazed up at him in mixed horror and awe. He smiled reassuringly and caressed her face. “So odd feeling,” he said quietly. “But it has ever been the way. Would you like me to sing to you, Chosen Consort?”

She found a voice. “Sir...” It seemed rough, ugly after his smooth tones. “There’s a storm...and the boat is in the calm...I don’t understand? But the waterspout...”

He ahhed and made a gesture with one hand. “It does not matter. I will sing to you, and you will not need to worry. Indeed...you will not be able to worry. You will understand when the song is done. The storm is my doing, and will not harm you so long as you obey.”

His lips parted, and the tones that issued were the sweetest she had ever heard. She felt herself falling. The waters closed over her, and she swam down and down, deep into the black places she had always feared to go. That fear seemed silly now. She could see the two dolphins at her side, close, ready to support her if she needed. She saw the distant glow of something...wrong with the waters. Something from the Dry World. Something that had poisoned many of the females who came close, made them unable to bear. How many had it caught before they were able to use their magics to contain it? She could not tell.

The song was hot-knife agony along her soul as she watched the children misborn, without gills, without breath, without the tails, without magic sometimes. She mourned. The decision made: one must go to the World Above, as had been done in the past when the Blood grew thin, and choose a consort. A female. One who could give the male what was needed. The one chosen: strong in magic, strong in the Blood, the pod leader Mistral. His messengers sent to watch her, for days silent, but his thoughts on hers, hearing her inner song of her poetry. His choice made, and now...

She felt herself wrenched above the water. The water still in pouches under the skin kept her alive, kept her gills moving and active while she adjusted to breathing air. Then she was gazing into his eyes again, and knew his choice to be her. Something in her recoiled violently. She did not move, feeling herself numb and compliant.

“Yessss...” he breathed. “You will do this thing. You will save us. I will make it...good for you. I will make it so you do not mind, so you feel hot pleasure. Yesss...”

She nodded. “Yes.” Her voice sounded distant, but softer. It was prettier when she was obeying him, she thought dimly. The rebellious part was so far away. It didn’t matter.

He gestured again, and she could see the ruddy sparkles of his magic flaring against the dark backdrop of clouds and sea. It wasn’t directed at her, she knew that, but he squatted down in front of her and pulled her knees apart, then gently laid her back on the deck. He dropped his head down and sniffed carefully. “Yes...ah. You are ripe. With my magic, you will gift us. And I now gift you. Behold!”

She turned her head to see where he pointed. A glow emanated from the cabin doorway. As she watched, Brittany came up the shallow stairs, her eyes open but her expression like a sleepwalker. She didn’t stumble as she crossed the deck, kneeling smoothly at Rebekah’s side.

I should be objecting to this, Rebekah thought dazedly. But he’s so nice. He’s only trying to save his people. And he’s not hurting us. And I’m so aroused (where did that come from?) and she’s so hot...

She felt herself sitting up, able to move of her own accord, and her lips found his. He responded warmly, alien-feeling lips soft on hers even if they were a bit cold. He turned her body slightly, feet toward Brittany, parting her legs and holding them that way. She closed her eyes, feeling the tingles of his magic burning over her body. She moaned into his mouth, forgetting to even try to figure any of this out. Her clothes simply disappeared, leaving no barrier of any kind between her and his will.

She realized faintly that she liked it that way.

The soft kitten-lick of a tongue on her labia made her arch and moan. His hands were on her breasts. The pinch and tug of fingers was intoxicating enough that she didn’t care that she could feel webbing between them, helping him cup the underside. She knew but did not care that it was Brittany’s tongue that had found her clit and was swirling around it. She felt pain on either side of her gut, deep within. It didn’t matter. She was Consort. She was Chosen.

She came over and over, barely realizing it when it changed from fingers to warm lips on her breast. She cried out in ecstatic abandon when she felt him enter her, deep and hard, and again as he filled her. She knew Brittany was holding her as her Lord and Consort took her again twice more. She knew when he was done, webbed fingers splaying over her abdomen.

The only clue she had to brace herself was his soft “Forgive me for this, Chosen.” Then she was in agony, belly afire, body arching back against Brittany. She felt a fluid, sticky wetness sliding down her sides that had nothing to do with pleasure and everything to do with her pain. Her eyes opened, accusing, to see him withdraw something from her pelvis and slide his bloodied hand into a slit in his own side. There was a pouch there she hadn’t noticed. He was being extremely careful with the small mass she could faintly see in his hands, tucking it away. Then he spread his hands over her once more, and the pain mercifully died into nothing.

Sea horses, she thought, a bit of clarity returning. Sea horses, the male carries the eggs, once fertilized...

He nodded to her gently. “Rest a moment, my Consort.” His voice was tender. “That is not easy on the body of one like you. You will recover soon.”

Brittany locked her arms around Rebekah suddenly, body tensing. He glanced up, making a casual gesture. Without being told, Rebekah knew her friend had just been frozen in place. “Release my Consort, bringer-of-pleasure. You served well.” The arms around her released slowly, to his satisfied nod. “It is well, indeed.”

He rose, glancing out over the water. The dolphins clacked, standing on their tails over the small waves. “And I must go. I am needed with the pod. This storm, too, must abate soon.” He glanced over the two of them with regret. “It is sad that you must forget. I do not like to be forgotten.”

Rebekah slowly got to her feet, head spinning. “Can’t I...can’t I please remember you?”

He shook his head sadly. “You will not remember. It is not permitted. We are already damaged. Once, perhaps. Now?” He made a hand gesture she didn’t understand. “But...” and his pause was slow, reflective, before he stepped closer to her. One cold hand took her chin and tilted it until she met his gaze. “...There is another way. If you consent.”

She stared up into his eyes, fascinated. He caressed her cheek tenderly. “Come with me, Rebekah. Come below and live with me forever. Watch our children grow. Is that so much to ask? You can watch them swimming free, watch them growing wild and untamed as the Mother’s Ocean itself. We have not had one from the World Above in so many upwellings. You would grace us, honor us, make us stronger.” His odd accent gave the words an unearthly beauty. It made her shiver.

Brittany’s voice came from behind her. She sounded like she was trying to maintain a strained calm. “Don’t do it, Becca. You know the stories of mermaids luring sailors to their deaths. Don’t even think about it. Please. We can go back and we’ll never tell anyone this happened, but don’t go with him now. There’s no way you could survive.”

He only smiled down into Rebekah’s rapt gaze. She felt herself shiver. “Such words from one who does not understand,” he whispered, his voice pitched for Rebekah’s ears alone. “She has never seen the true beauty of the deep. This harsh world is cold and leaves you bereft of the song of the waves. Below, you are never alone. As for how you could survive,” and his eyes twinkled with humor. “You have seen me bend the magics of wind and current, mind and body to my command. How can you believe I cannot give you what I promise?”

She desperately wanted to believe. She wasn’t sure why. The waterspout’s roar, so close, seemed to drown her ability to think clearly. His huge, alien, expressive eyes held hers. She felt herself falling into them again. Something in her protested, but the power of the waves was pounding at her mind. She felt resistance wearing away.

I’m sand on a beach being moved by the tide, she thought dazedly. I’m rocks being smoothed. He’ll take away my rough edges. He’ll make me so smooth and take me so deep...I’ll never be the same...

Do I want to be the same?

Looking up at him, she felt herself wavering. What did I really want here, anyway? What do I have in this world that he couldn’t give me?

What will I be without him?

“I...can’t...” she whispered. “I want to so...but...”

He broke the contact, releasing her gently. “Be it so, then.” His rich voice, so sad, made her want to weep. He turned his back on her, diving easily and cleanly into the water. A ripple on the surface was the only cue he was resurfacing.

She felt herself moving, almost desperate to follow. She heard Brittany’s cry of dismay and panic. “Rebekah! Remember the stories! You can’t!” It didn’t matter. His head broke surface as she straddled the rail. He held up a hand to her. Something in her told her that he’d known she’d come to him, he knew her so well...or was this all her doing? Was this really love?

Brittany grabbed her as she started to get her other leg over the rail. The water waited below, with its promise of freedom with him. “He’ll kill you! No, Becca!” The words meant nothing. They were nothing. The dolphins clacked, rising from the water to bite at Brittany’s hands. Rebekah felt herself released. She fell. He caught her at the water. Without giving her a chance to take a breath, he drew her under locked in arms that felt like iron bands around her waist and shoulders. She twined her legs around his...tail? Yes. It was there again.

Instinctively she held her breath as the dark waters closed over her head. She could see his huge eyes, gazing into hers. The edges of her vision were already turning red. She couldn’t tell if it was oxygen deprivation or the sparkles of his magic, changing her to make her like him. He nodded to her, and she heard his voice in her mind once more.

Let go, Rebekah.

She let go the last of her air on a sighed word: “Mistral...” He held her to him, implacable but tender, as she inhaled seawater.

—Vacationing Girl Dies in Freak Storm at Sea—

-Key West, Florida: Rebekah Silverberg, 22, of Athenbury South Carolina, was drowned in a freak storm off the coast last night. She had been vacationing locally with a friend, Brittany Caldwell. Her body has not been found.

The pair had borrowed a friend’s small yacht and were a few miles offshore when the storm blew up. “I was asleep below deck,” said Caldwell, also 22 and of Athenbury. “I woke up to find the boat pitching. There’d been no warning from the weather radio.”

Caldwell said she attempted to hold the boat steady while Silverberg, the stronger of the two, took down the sail. “Suddenly this wave broke over the boat just as she got the sail down. It just washed her right overboard. I never saw her after that. She was a good swimmer, I just don’t understand it.” Silverberg was apparently not wearing a life vest.

The Coast Guard called off the search for Silverberg this morning. A spokesperson said “We just don’t have much hope. We’re very lucky both of them didn’t drown. In incidents like this, we usually don’t find much.” She added that the SOS broadcast by the small craft, presumably set off by Silverberg before the accident, saved Caldwell.

National Weather Service officials said they were at a loss to explain the storm and refused further comment on the record. Speaking on condition of anonymity, one source said “We don’t like to admit that we don’t understand everything about the weather yet, but it’s true. We just don’t have all the answers right now.” He urged people to continue to listen to weather radios, and to make sure to wear life vests when boating to help ensure safety.

Memorial services will be held Friday at the deceased’s home church. For more information, call 555-555-1234.