The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Chapter One

Tabitha Lovelay has been waking up in the middle of the night the last few weeks, to the tunes of beautiful flute music playing somewhere off in the distance, perhaps from the corners of her mind. Tonight, she’s going to look for where it comes from.

The well endowed college student gets out of bed and into her fuzzy bunny slippers, and puts her bathrobe on. Even though it’s two in the morning, she does not want any party bros catching her in just a loose shirt and panties. It’s comfortable to sleep in, not so comfortable to end up on the internet.

On her way out of the building, she spots that a lot of people are still awake, their doors open as some sort of frantic make-out session is going on in most rooms. The amount of girl-on-girl action is staggering, but at least it seems to validate all those depictions of girls in college you see on the x-rated channels.

She can’t blame them. The music is making her feel quite frisky, too.

Exiting the female dorms, she stands still to listen to where the music is coming from, and walks across campus under the light of the full moon. The beautiful music plays as though not carried by the breeze but in fact only present in her mind, drawing her closer to... something.

The wind blows gently through her long, blonde hairs, and the chill creeps up her shirt, giving her goosebumps. She ties her bathrobe close around her body, and shuffles on with her floppy eared bunny slippers, trying to not get them too dirty.

Rounding a corner, she runs into miss Hanabusa, the professor of the new robotics class, walking an older man in a gimp mask and fetish gear on a chain leash. She’s only 26 but already a fierce and knowledgeable force in her field, who moved here from Japan to teach those intelligent enough to attend.

“Miss Hanabusa!” Tabitha jumps. “I didn’t expect you to be out so late.”

“Miss Lovelay.” she says, looking Tabitha over. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“I’m out... trying to find where that music keeps coming from.”

“Music? What music?” the professor asks, before smacking her sub on the ass with a riding crop for not holding still enough, as he’s trying to hide his exposed body from Tabitha by moving to stand behind his mistress.

The man in the mask yelps and trembles in place, and Tabitha recognizes him suddenly. It’s dean Michaelson, head of the university. He’s over twice Hanabusa’s age...

“The... flute music. It’s playing now. Don’t you...?” she starts, but her words trail off.

Firmly miss Hanabusa shakes her head. “I don’t hear it. You should go to bed. If you oversleep, you’ll miss out on class.”

“So, uh... do you... do this often?” she asks, pointing at mister Michaelson.

“Puppy has been a good boy and he gets walkies as a treat.” she explains casually. “Do you want to pet him?”

It’s a little creepy, but for whatever reason she does not want to miss out on this opportunity. If only for the great story she’ll be able to tell the rest of her life. She reaches out her hand and pets the dean on the top of the head, rubbing his leather mask as he enjoys the attention.

Then, following a firm yank on the leash, miss Hanabusa continues her trip with the dean stumbling after her, and Tabitha wonders why she said she couldn’t hear the music. It’s playing quite loudly now... she must be close by.

She continues on, past the on-campus pool, beyond the library, out around the far side of the main campus, to a little park section tucked away behind the track.

There, finally, she hears the music for the first time, and realizes that her suspicion was indeed correct—she had only heard the music in her mind up until now.

“Hey there!” she calls out, and the music stops.

Out from behind a tree pokes a scrawny little man, with a big toothy grin. “Oh. Hello.” he says, waving his hand. He looks homeless and dirty, dressed in a long coat and top hat as if he’d ransacked the wardrobe of a play set in Victorian England. It seems like all he owns he’s got in an old worn leather travel bag slung over one shoulder. “Can I help you?”

“Were you playing that music?” she asks, standing on the other side of the little park from him, decidedly not approaching. He’s kind of weird looking, like a hobgoblin rather than a man. Though, when she takes a closer look at him, she realizes that he is, in fact, a hobgoblin. The long pointy ears and the matching hook nose give him away.

“Yes. I was.” he smiles. “Did you like it?”

“It was driving everyone horny. Well, almost everyone.” she says.

“Well, I’m glad for that. But did you like it? You, specifically?”

She shrugs, “It was alright.” She takes one step closer and looks him over. “But I met someone who couldn’t hear it. Why’s that?”

“Well, my fife is magical. Only people who I want to play to can hear it.”

“And what kind of people would that be?” Tabitha asks.

Another big, toothy grin as he steps closer. The nearer he gets, the less she can mistake him for human. “People who, deep down, want to submit. That’s why I come to play at colleges and universities. They’re always swarming with young people desperate for certainty in life. They have their futures ahead of them and all they really want is someone to tell them what to do and how to be successful.”

“So you’re saying I heard it because I wanna be told what to do?”

“Well, what’s your major?” he asks.

“Psychology.”

“Any minors?”

“Philosophy. Well, I mean...”

“Ah. A thinker. But if you heard my music, doubt must cloud your heart. Perhaps you don’t want to be told what to do, you wanna be told what to think?” he offers, holding up his fife, and putting it to his lips to play a very short melody, only a few dozen notes rather quickly, like birds chirping.

She unties the belt on her bathrobe and lets her curves stand out as the robe opens. It makes him smile wide.

He looks upon her body and winks at her. “You’re very pretty.”

“Thanks.” she shrugs. “I’m, uh, Tabitha Lovelay.”

“It’s ‘Lovelay’ to meet you, Tabitha. I’m Lutvar Hwlleccenohr, an itinerant minstrel. A wandering piper, if you will.” he says, holding out his hand in introduction. It’s thin and bony, but she shakes it irregardless.

“Nice to meet you. Aren’t you cold out here?”

“Aren’t you?”

“A little bit. But I don’t get invited in much.” he shrugs, seeming fine with his situation. He takes a pocket watch from his jacket pocket, and holds it up between himself and Tabitha, his eyes jumping from looking at her to looking at the device, and back and forth.

She looks him over, and decides he looks harmless enough. “Would you like to come back to my dorm for some tea?”

The breeze plays through his long hair as he nods. “Yes, please. It’s a little chilly out here, to be honest.” He puts the pocket watch away, his smile now a wide grin.

He follows her across campus in the moonlight, as he plays slow, beautiful music.

“A magic fife, huh?” she asks.

He removes it from his mouth to speak, yet the fife keeps playing as his fingers work the ports. “Yes. It’s carved from the femur of a forest ogre, and engraved with goblin runes to give it power over weak willed people.”

“So, I can hear it because I’m ‘weak willed’, huh?” she puffs at him.

“It’s not an insult. There’s nothing wrong with having a weak will. It just means you have doubts and worries, and doesn’t that sound normal?” he starts, the fife playing on in his talented hands. “I mean, of all the people I’ve met, it’s the smart and talented ones that are full of doubts, and the dumb, ignorant ones that are full of confidence. I don’t play for them. Only for people who are aware of themselves... and maybe feel like they deserve a break. I play music for people like you.”

“Aw... well, that’s sweet.” she says, adding “I have been a bit stressed with all my studies. Got me thinking, did I choose the right field? Is this what I wanna do with the rest of my life?”

“I hope I can take some of your worries away, if only for a while.” he says, putting the fife into a little leather scabbard on his belt, the far end tied around his thigh like a holster.

Then he reaches into his pocket and retrieves the pocket watch again, letting her get a close look at it, holding it up to her.

She stops, and does nothing but look at it, her eyes unblinking, unflinching, unable to look away.

It has no clock face, only a bunch of all sorts of gears working in unison, turning and swirling. All of its parts are decorated in runes as well, though a lot more intricate in working. Its gears tick and tock, but rather sounding like a metronome would, its mechanisms sound more like the beating of a heart, and as he holds it up, Tabitha goes quiet, staring into it.

Tick and tock. Tick and tock. A tick, followed immediately by a tock. A tock, followed by a tick after a moment’s pause. Truly like a heartbeat. Tick-tock... tick-tock... tick-tock...

A faint light grows brighter from deep inside the mysterious device with each heartbeat, slowly taking up all her attention, until he snaps it shut again.

“Oh. Right. Let’s get inside.” she says, and he smiles.

“Yes. Let’s.”

She uses the keypad to get back into her building, and he chuckles a little nervously.

“You don’t use keys anymore?”

“People kept losing them. Plus, some people got to breaking in with stolen and duplicated keys... we use codes now.”

He goes a little quiet, and his smile goes down. “This just... makes me feel a little more alone. This is not the world I remember.”

“Well, my code works on this door and the door to my room. It’s, um...” she starts, but stops.

He puts his hand on her shoulder, leaning in with a smile. “Oh? Everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah. For a moment there I... I was about to just tell you my passcode.” she says, finding her behavior a little odd. “I’m not supposed to let other people know my code.”

“That’s fine. You don’t have to tell me.” he smiles.

“Yeah, but...” she says, then sighs. “Nevermind. It’s late.”

He follows her inside, and they get into the elevator.

“How old are you?” she asks, before quickly adding “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I don’t really keep track of my age. It’s just a number to me, one I don’t care about.” he shrugs.

She presses on gently. “Well, what did you do when you were young? Big events in your youth? Like, Challenger, or the moon landing?”

“Well, uh... I was born a few weeks before the execution of Louis XVI. I remember because my mother often said she didn’t feel safe anymore after that, and we moved from Paris to London.”

By now she’s at her dorm room, which is actually a small apartment with a kitchenette in one corner, a bathroom in the other, and a bed on the far wall by the window, opposite a rather cluttered desk. In the middle is a couch with a television, where Lutvar drops himself down. The room is a little bit messy, but nothing too bad.

“Comfy.” he says, smiling.

She briefly looks up Louis XVI on her laptop, and gasps. “Holy shit. That was January 21st, 1793! You’re, like, two hundred... uh...”

“Almost 227 years.” he shrugs. “What kind of tea do you have?”

“I mean, you’re...” she starts, but he opens his pocket watch again and she goes quiet.

“What kind of tea do you have?”

Tick tock in her head. Tick tock. Nothing but tick tock. Echoes of the gears rolling and rotating, ticking and tocking.

“I ... I ... only have Chamomile Tea.” she says, staring straight forward into nothingness, until the ticking tock in her head stops. “Right. I said I’d make you tea.”

He smiles. “That sounds lovely. Thank you, darling.” Then he removes his top hat and jacket, putting them on an unused chair next to his satchel of things, and drops back onto the couch to remove his boots.

Her eyes wander over to him as she messes with the electric kettle. He’s not entirely unattractive, and he does sure seem quite friendly.

He leaves the mysterious device open, glowing its magical light as he places it next to him on the couch.

“Would you mind terribly if I stayed for the night? Sleep on your couch, perhaps?”

“Don’t worry about it. Stay as long as you want!” she says immediately, then catching her words. “Uh, I mean, ...”

“I don’t want to impose.”

“Not at all, I’ll enjoy having you around for a few days.”

“Well...” he smiles, nodding his head at her in gratitude. “If you insist.”

“I insist.” she insists, catching her words but doing nothing about them. “Can I make you a snack?” Why was she blurting out these words?

“Oh, I’d love that, thank you! A sandwich would be nice. Some ham, some cheese.” he says. “And, if you don’t mind, I’d adore a little massage. My neck’s a bit stiff from sleeping on the ground... and perhaps afterwards you can rub my feet?”

She wants to sigh, but somehow she shrugs. “Uh, sure. Yeah.” Then she blinks a few times, and says “I mean, yeah, okay. That sounds good.”

“I can’t repay your kindness, beautiful Tabitha.”

“Don’t worry about it...” she says, opening her fridge to get to work on his sandwich, as the water boils. “I, uh, don’t mind.” She blinks a few times once again, the tick-tock of his magical device growing louder, echoing in her mind. “I mean, uh, I’d love to.”

She pours his tea and puts his sandwich on a plate, leaving it on the little stand next to the couch. “Will that be all, sir?” she asks, blinking a few times without noticing it herself.

He chuckles. “That will be all... for now.” he nods, taking a sip of tea. “You don’t have to call me sir... Do you?”

“Oh, I just... um... I don’t...” she starts, her own thoughts eluding her. “I mean...”

“Don’t worry about it, beautiful Tabitha, tell me... What would you like to call me?”

“Um, ‘sir’? Or, perhaps, I should call you ‘mas—’... um... ‘mast—’...” she starts, looking quite confused.

He chuckles. “Yes, ‘sir’ will do just fine... for now.”

“Yes. That sounds great.”

“And, Tabitha darling, you don’t need to keep that bathrobe or those slippers on...” he starts, putting on a nice smile, only for it to turn into a grin as he finishes his sentence with “... and remove your shirt while you’re at it, you’re home.”

“Oh! Right, sir.” she nods. “Makes sense.”

Casually she removes the bathrobe and hangs it up on the coat rack, puts her slippers by the bed, and takes off her shirt, putting it in the hamper in the bathroom.

“Would you like your massage now, sir?” she asks, as he starts on his sandwich.

“Not just yet.” he winks. “But be a dear and dance seductively for me. I’ll let you know when you can stop.”

Without really thinking about it, she starts to dance in a slow but quite flirtatious fashion for him in nothing but pink panties, her hands trailing up and down her supple, nubile body as the hobgoblin watches.

She blows him kisses and shoots him eager looks, dipping down and rising up, showing off her beautiful, well endowed body as he enjoys the sandwich, the tea, and the view.

“Don’t you have class in the morning?” he asks, amused by how eagerly she does as she’s bid.

“Yeah, but...” she says, still dancing. “It’s nothing. I can skip it tomorrow, and join in Monday afternoon with the other class. I have that time free, anyway. Do you wanna hang out or something?”

“Well, if that wouldn’t be too much of a bother for you. I totally understand if you’d rather study or go to class.” he offers kindly. “Now give me a lap dance, please.”

Her round, thick buttocks are rubbing his lap as she lowers herself over him, looking over her shoulder at the stranger. “No, it’ll be fun. I’ll skip that class, we’ll have a good time. Please, sir?”

A tiny, quiet little voice in the back of her mind is worrying about something, and she experiences that feeling you get when you walk into a room and forget what you went in there for.

“Well, if that makes you happy.” he smiles, taking a handful of her long locks and sniffing it under his nose. His erection rubs between her round buns, snugly tucked yet obvious. His thin, gentle hands move to hold her hips, touching her soft, warm skin, and moving up to grope and firmly squeeze her large, shapely breasts, his fingertips vanishing into their softness.

She dances on and on without pause or question, letting him put his hands on her, as she grinds her hips against his lap.

“Sweetheart, I have a bit of a situation...” he says, motioning her with his hand that she can stop dancing, and she obeys. “My friend has... come up.”

“Oh. Well, if you want, I could help you with that, sir, it’s no trouble.” she offers casually and immediately.

He grins. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“I’d love to!” she insists eagerly, not even thinking about what she’s saying. She unbuttons his pants and takes hold of his large, thick erection with both hands, but then he halts her.

“No, honey. With your chest, and your mouth on the end.”

“Oh! Duh! Right.” she laughs as if catching herself making an obvious mistake like putting the left shoe on the right foot. Tabitha then gets on her knees between his feet. “Sorry about that, sir. I don’t know where my head’s at.” she offers a little embarrassed—not because of her nudity or her willingness to suck off a stranger, but because she didn’t think to just use her mouth herself.

“It’s quite alright, sweetheart. Do your best to remember it for next time.” he says, petting her head as she wraps her large, perfect breasts around his throbbing rod, her soft, plush lips closing on the tip for her to suck and lick. Her head bobs up and down slowly on his dick, moaning and slurping, coating the pole in her slobber, as she massages the shaft with her bosom and gags obediently on the tip. Her breathing is dutiful and considered, taking in as much air as she can without breaking the flow of her service to his erection. “That’s a good girl.” he praises, petting her head gently. “Don’t forget to maintain eye contact. I want to watch you enjoy my cock.”

Her eyes dart up at him, happy and eager to please, actually enjoying this strange man’s long, thick rod. For the first time in perhaps years her mind is quiet and she doesn’t worry or doubt at all. She’s content in the moment, completely unconcerned about what the future may bring.

“That’s a good girl. When you’re done, I want you to clean up this place a little while I take a shower. Tomorrow you’ll wash my clothes, and we’ll get to that massage you owe me.” he explains, tickling the tip of her nose with his forefinger.

She nods, his tip throbbing and leaking against the back of her throat, as she affirms “Mm-hmm!” Tabitha seems fine to do as she’s told, in fact, she seems happy.

He picks up his magical device and lets it dangle on the end of the chain, right in front of her eyes. She goes still and stares into it, helpless.

Then, he swings it side to side like a pendulum, and her eyes follow it left and right, left and right, again and again. He doesn’t say anything, but she can hear his voice in her mind, thinking her thoughts for her.

As the magical device swings before her eyes, she continues to slobber and drool all over his rod, pumping her mouth up and down onto it, as he pumps a hot, thick load of hobgoblin love into her gullet, which she eagerly swallows.

“Clean my cock before you stop, honey.” he instructs, letting her stare into his device, the Dreamer’s Eye, a little longer before snapping it shut.

She obeys eagerly, slurping his dick clean before letting it out of her mouth.

“Don’t you have something you’d like to say to me?” he asks, smiling.

“Oh! Right, sorry, sir! I mean, thank you, sir! For the orgasm!” she blurts out, a little nervously.

“That’s fine, sweetheart. I know you’re not trying to be rude, but you really should remember to thank me when I let you get me off.” he say, playfully pulling her ear. “Otherwise I’ll have to spank you!”

“Yes, sir. I’m very sorry.” she nods, looking remorseful yet oh so adorable. “I promise I won’t forget again.”

“That’s a good girl.” he praises, petting her head. “Now, get to cleaning up. I’m going to take a shower. If you finish before I’m done, I want you to write down some personal information about yourself that you think I might enjoy knowing... and don’t forget to write down your door code for me!”

“Okay, sir! I’ll get started right away!” she nods, jumping to her feet and starting to tidy up her place.

Lutvar heads into the bathroom and removes his clothes, and steps into the shower. “Ah, a nice warm rinse...” he chuckles, humming a pleasant tune as he cleans himself up.

When he returns with a towel around his waist, he finds her place all tidy and neat. “That’s a good girl. Now take a quick shower, but don’t get your hair wet. After this, you’re coming straight to bed with me!”

“Yes, sir!” she nods, hopping over into the bathroom herself, after handing him a notepad.

On it, she’s penned down some details about herself, starting with the door code, which is 918 809 218. She’s 19, and her birthday is August 31st, which makes her a Virgo. She’s written down where she was born, that she’s an only child and her parents are divorced, even obvious things like her eyes being blue, her skin being fair and her hair being blonde.

“5′6″, 130 pounds, 43-24-35, 24HH... and they’re real, huh? They certainly felt real...” he chuckles to himself, reading what she’s written. “Size seven feet? That’s smaller than mine! Yet she’s a little taller...”

The shower stops, and Tabitha appears with a towel wrapped around her naked body.

He hands her his towel, showing off his fully naked form, and instructs “Put both towels to dry. Tomorrow you’ll do laundry as instructed, and spend some time serving me.”

“Yes, sir! I’m really looking forward to it!” she nods, removing the towel and showing off her flawless, hairless body and all its bouncy curves, as she hangs the towels over the radiator to dry.

He then reaches into the bag he’s brought with him, and pulls out a leather collar, with a silver amulet crafted in the front, engraved with runes. “This is for you. It’s so people know you’re mine.”

“Aww, thank you, sir!” she smiles, blushing. “But I didn’t get you anything...”

“You can make it up to me tomorrow.” he winks, as she puts the collar on, strapping it up snug, but not too tight.

Then, without question or hesitation, she joins him in bed, switching off the lights before snuggling up against him.

“Goodnight, sir.” she says.

“Goodnight, ‘who’?” he asks.

“Oh! Sorry. Goodnight, master.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” he smiles, his hand on her side having her roll onto her stomach, as he mounts her from behind. His erect cock has not subsided like a human’s would have.

Her legs spread, and his rod presses up against her tight asshole, making her wince. “Master, that hurts...” she says, biting her lip and sucking air through her teeth. “Ow, please... Stop! Master, that really hurts!”

“Oh, fine. We’ll work up to it.” he chuckles, gripping her hips and angling them up so he can insert his throbbing dick into her soft, juicy pussy, pushing deep inside as he starts to thrust.

Tabitha groans, panting and moaning on his massive size. Her wet lips spread wide on his ramrod, as its long length punches the back of her walls.

“Good slave.” he praises, smiling.

She grips her pillow with both hands as he grabs her hair and makes her look up, into the Dreamer’s Eye, as he fills her mind with his will, leaving her fully helpless against his command and fully at his whim.

Tabitha’s never felt this happy.

[THE END for Tabitha Lovelay]