The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Angela had slept. I had soothed away the desire to stay awake and the emotional drain of the danger she felt caused her to black out. I carried her indoors and laid her out on the sofa.

Kneeling next to her on the carpet I leaned in and brushed her sleepiness away. She woke with a corresponding return of fear.

“Shhh, you are safe. We just need to talk.” I ran my hand across her forehead as gently as I could. Her programming kicked in and she closed her eyes, waiting for the blow to arrive. I frowned with sadness; she frowned in surprise, things were different here.

I needed to find out what I could about her life. She was the closest person to Shaw that I had met and was potentially my greatest ally, but I needed to understand the sort of help she could give me.

A sad fact hit me, that I would be unable to make any changes to her mind in case Shaw would be alerted. I told her this and she acknowledged the fact with resignation.

“I expect nothing else master.”

“Don’t ever call me that Angela. I am not your master.”

She was puzzled, “Then who...?”

“You are going to be free. But we need to work together to make that happen.”

Her hope soared and the brightness of her smile fleetingly returned.

I asked her to let me know what her story had been. She seemed frightened and was unable to put the experience in words. I needed to dip into her head once more to find out for myself.

Generally, the common model for viewing a person’s life is to feel it like a string, running from the moment of birth to the moment of death. Although that isn’t always the actual way that life goes, it is a good way for me to envision it. I pulled myself like a scuba diver; hand over hand, down the line of Angela’s life, back to the depths of the earliest memories and then let myself rise again through her life. The line fairly dripped with Peter Shaw’s sick interference.

The life experiences were clipped to her lifeline in close procession much the same way a line of washing is hung along a clothesline. I read them as if I was watching the scene unfold before of me. The birth was hanging at the very front and the dirty rag of that event smothered me in its foulness. As I found when searching through Chrissie’s history, the life events a person remembers are but a small fraction of the total. Angela’s life story included everything that happened around her. I was aware of holding the child tightly as I gasped at the horror she, and her mother, lived through.

Angela’s mother, Jacqueline, gave birth to her at the precise moment that her husband and master was thrusting into her rectum with his bloated prick. Her waters and the blood of her baby’s birth mixed on the rumpled bed sheets with the foul remnants of his bestial foreplay as he crouched above her, fucking her ass with heavy up-and-down thrusts.

Jacqueline screamed her agony into the urine-soaked pillow clenched in her teeth as she felt her baby tear itself from her. Her master’s roar of triumph as his scalding cum filled her tender bowels filling her ears. She struggled valiantly, trying to remain conscious in fear of what he might do to her new child. The new life was hers too, it was still untouched by him.

Reaching between her knees as he continued to pound into her from behind, she took hold of her new baby girl’s tiny arm and pulled the tiny rag doll up towards her face. The placenta still awaited its birth and she bore down again on the wracking pain that threatened to overtake the entirety of her body. His nails pulled small crescents of red skin from her hips and back and the weight of his body as he pressed hard down onto her softened pelvis made the muscles of her lower back burn with pain.

The splash of the clotted mass of placenta between her spread legs signalled the afterbirth. She found herself working on instinct as she took the cord between her teeth and waited for the feeble beating to subside. She found herself using the agony he was inflicting, to bite down and through the tissue. Her baby was separate and for the first time she had something that was just hers.

A few stabs of agony as he flexed in her again and then the usual flurry of blows and he was gone, telling her to clean up and be ready for her day.

Angela’s early times were protected by her mother’s acquiescence to every degraded threat to her daughter’s life. Angela now saw her mother as the winged golden angel for whom she could have been named. Jacqueline’s courage in her defence of her infant child was overwhelming. The fact that he had plucked her from the heart of her mother church as a novice nun made her degradation even more pointed. Her determination that she had to protect her baby, often led to her own punishment on his orders.

Angela learned her mother’s history over the course of their effective captivity, laying together in the darkness of the kennels to which they were usually banished; whispering to each other. The spells he put on them, all the more brutal in the way in which they were made to appear happy to the outside world.

Jacqueline’s teachers had always admonished her class to avoid the devil and turn away from sin; to believe in the power of Christ and pray for his divine intervention. When the power of Shaw’s will was turned on her, she found that their words were empty. No preparation could protect her from his commands. The actuality of meeting evil was not the level battlefield she had always imagined; with its hosts of saints and angels and benign powers rallied on one side and the forces of darkness on the other. This was an attack for which she was defenceless. The main evil came directly from herself.

From the very beginning, her body betrayed her. At first he was anonymous, standing in the shadows out of sight, taking pleasure from watching her fall from grace from afar. Her mind was confused by the new emotions that began to hit her at odd times throughout the day, but that didn’t stop her from acting on the impulses.

The frantic, sickening masturbation sessions at night and then in the morning too; the sudden blurted obscenities; the angry responses to friendly questioning. All these things forebode the day that He made himself known to her. She would lie in bed, crying with confusion, not knowing why she was behaving in such a manner. The swearwords were alien to her, but she spoke them with such effect that none would believe her innocence. She began to actively search out situations where the carnal lust she felt could be taken advantage of. Grabbing other girls in the showers, slipping into the local town to entice the young farm boys and eventually do more than just entice them, she found herself totally out of depth.

Like a bulimic, the hidden guilt of her own actions drew her away from those who loved her. By the time her master appeared, she recognised him as the punishment her sins justly deserved. At seventeen, she simply watched with terror as he fell upon her, the beating and the rape all due to her own sins.

She spiralled down to the point where the sisters almost literally threw her out of the convent. All the while, she was unable to understand what was happening to her. Doctors and psychiatrists all declared her sane but antisocial, she simply found herself offering to fuck the nurse while the doctor watched.

Shaw didn’t take her, she went to him almost willingly, it was what she deserved.

The new life was a schizophrenic nightmare of an outward facade of normalcy as his new young wife helping him to build their business, and the slave who actively participated in the abominations he demanded.

He was not so much interested in the child (and later, children) he sired. The need to corrupt an innocent meant that he would wait until the adult was grown and then take them. The children received only cursory, if sickening, attention from their father. Angela, however, saw the way her mother was treated. Their life was a fearsome ordeal only mitigated by Jacqueline’s strength of character.

I leaped forward through her life, from one incident to the next, marvelling at how well she had managed to integrate into the ordinary world despite the horrors of home. The approach of her womanhood was a dreadful shadow over her and her mother, his attentions would definitely be turned on her. She had been peripheral to the activities of her mother and father since the recent occurrence of her first period, but the intensity of her involvement was beginning to escalate.

I read in her mind that she was expected to be used in some ritual that Shaw was making ready. Her virginity was a most powerful prize and it was going to be lost along with her life unless she could get out of the slavery in which he held them.

The news, via her mother’s bruised and bleeding mouth, that a man existed who might be able to challenge her father was the first ray of hope that either of them had had. Then my capture and the dreadfulness of the repercussions of my escape. My talisman, taken from my body at my capture was the single tool which allowed them to operate clearly. they both knew this was their last and only hope. The carefully planned and covered work to find my details, put together in the darkness of their cell; getting those details to the attention of the school; the work to have my name brought up as a candidate for patron; they had been frightening times.

I withdrew from Angela’s story, my face awash with tears of pity. She returned my gaze with a face that showed a bright hope that I wondered if I could live up to. She had grown a mind set that would accept death but expect victory, her eyes burned me with their implicit demand. More than Mab’s contract, I knew at that moment that I had a destiny. I bent and kissed her hands, both of them, on the palms.

Each square centimetre of the inside of her left hand was covered in tiny scars. The pads of her fingers were wrinkled with them. and longer streaks of red tissue traced across the ball of her thumb. I looked at her quizzically and she replied by reaching inside the neck of her blouse.

She winced slightly as she lifted out a tiny cross hung on a thin golden chain, holding it out for my inspection.

“It was my mother’s, she gave it to me to remind me.”

“But, why cut yourself?” I held her hand and saw the fresh droplet of blood run from her index finger.

“It does it itself. He put a spell on it as a punishment to her and me.”

I took it from her hand and found it to be completely innocuous, a typical, pretty, cross like hundreds given to a young girl at her confirmation.

“I like the blood,” she semi-whispered, “it reminds me how he causes the suffering, not me, not my mother.”

I kissed her lightly on the lips and she sighed at the unfamiliar pleasantness of a man’s contact.

In a reckless disregard for the chance that I might alert Shaw of my involvement, I took the spell off and handed it back to her.

“Let’s start remembering how beautiful the world will be.”

That was when she started sobbing. Great howling cries from the depths of her soul released because she suddenly had the chance she had longed for. I let the upheaval continue until she slowly petered out and then began gently interrogating her.

“What is it that he expects to do to win this war?” I asked her as she dabbed her eyes and blew the snot from her running nose.

“I don’t know; he doesn’t consider us worthy of any sort of discussion. Mother is only allowed to speak to him when he lets her.” She paused, “But he refers to his having an army of some sort. He told me once that he looked forward to the day that David, that’s my brother, was old enough to have his carcass used as a foot soldier.” She flicked her red-rimmed eyes at me, “I don’t think he was using a figure of speech, he’s shown us the insides of people, he keeps them in jars in the house’s basement.”

I knew what she was talking about, the image of him shaking the cylindrical jar that held my Valerie’s soul came to mind. He was a collector of the dead, and intended to unleash his zombie army on an the world.

“He said that the people of the Earth would only recognise the members of his army after they too, had joined him.” she was wide eyed in her remembrance of implications of his plan. The insidious swarm of his dark forces might already be spreading. Ordinary members of society, hiding the fact that they were in fact, like Debbie, mere puppets in his evil corporation. Others, soulless and undead, their essences imprisoned like my darling Valerie in the jar on Shaw’s desk.

“Listen, Angela,” I said, holding her shoulders and gazing into her eyes. She straightened at the order, the reflexes of slavery. “I need your help to get into the house, I need to attack him from there, I don’t think he’ll expect that.”

She settled, her emotions older than her years. “I don’t know if it is possible,” she began; “but I think you might be able to come in with the supplies. We have deliveries during the week and he doesn’t check them personally anymore, I think he has some sort of spell on the doorways to check the stuff coming in and out.”

I thought about that for a moment, feeling confident that I could bypass a static spell well enough to cover my tracks.

“Once you are in the kitchens, then I don’t know how you might get around the house, I have only been upstairs a few times; when he trots us out to appear at some of the business dinners he has thrown in the house.”

I checked through her memories and got a fair idea of the general orientation of the rooms.

“Thank you Angela, your name is an apt one.” I smiled at her as warmly as I could and she reflected it slightly. “This is a dangerous being we are dealing with, but he is only a man and we will win.” I emphasised the comment. “We already have a plan to deal with him, with your assistance, I can now get hold of the bait to entice him to the trap.”

She sought out a kiss of her own and I complied. The familiar lustiness held in check but my kiss was warm enough to signal that I was capable of more pleasure.

“Angela, I have to return you in the same state as when I found you. We can’t leave any mark on you that might give away the fact that you and I have met. I am going to make you forget about this, but deep inside you’ll still feel the hope like now. Are you ready?”

She nodded, the tears spilling down her cheeks, and I knocked her out cold with a command. When she awoke the next day in her own bed at school she only felt as if some weight was lifting and found herself smiling spontaneously for the first time in a long time. Even the thought of her plan was forgotten.

The following new moon found me ready to move on my plan.

After all the careful planning and the reviewing of all the potential risks and the organisation and all the re-planning, the entry to the house was an anticlimax. Shaw was away on one of his meetings (I dreaded to imagine what a board meeting would actually entail.) The doorways were protected by the most rudimentary spells; I slipped some extra controls behind them and they never even registered the fact of my entrance.

I began to recognise the arrogance of Shaw’s workmanship. His spell casting was so heavy-handed as to be almost laughable despite it’s lethality. His coatings on everything, were like he had painted using a rag on a stick rather than a brush; thick and pockmarked. I found I could lay more careful instructions onto and into them and move through his house with little restriction. Even Angela and her mother were unaware that I was in the building. They were probably programmed to raise the alarm if an intruder was found.

The basement was my first destination. I threw open the double-wide heavy door and was greeted by the sight of what appeared to be a vast wine cellar. Instead of bottles however, the rows and rows of ‘soul-tubes’ stretched back into the shadows.

I walked through the racks, hoping against hope that I could actually detect her. The vague dreaming of the personalities in each jar could be felt as I passed by. I moved as swiftly as I could up and down the dozens of rows, searching.

When I found her, I knelt on the stone floor with desperate relief. I had been becoming more and more frantic in my search and suddenly it was over. I cradled the cold prison in my arms and kissed it.

That he had brought her back to the basement might mean that the object of my other search might also be here. I quickly placed her in the backpack I carried and made my way upstairs to where I hoped to find his study.

I had to keep warning myself to slow down and work according to the practice and training. The work if anything, was too easy, Shaw’s self-deception couldn’t believe he was vulnerable. I checked and double checked for secondary security spells and still found none that were a problem. His study was a mirror image of the one I had seen in his office. The large dark desk and the same decor.

I carefully picked through the room, opening cupboards, lockers, drawers. Eventually I came upon what I was searching for: The box.

I expected the thing to be malevolent, to have the sort of evil signature that I was used to seeing.

It felt completely innocuous. I could feel the power inside it but it was obviously a subtle weapon. Bran had told me the sort of weapon he thought the dark side might have managed to get their hands on, and this was probably it. Like a sort of reverse Pandora’s Box, it drew in the victim to meet the evils within. He had a recollection of the object in Sidhe history books and we both knew it was a prize that Shaw would have to come after.

The box was a plain thing. It’s surfaces had the texture of orange peel and was the colour of bone. About the size of a small ring-box it fit in my hand with a heaviness that betrayed its potency. I slipped it into a separate pouch on my back pack and exited the room.

Both Angela and Jacqueline were in the same room on the lower floor. Angela’s brother was not home, he was, even at seven years of age, boarded at a military academy many miles away. A sort of blessing I guessed. The furnishings were disgusting, more suited to a prison cell and Jacqueline had obviously incurred some form of punishment because she was sleeping on the bare springs of her metal bed frame. The red stain on the pile of sheets next to her made it certain that she had suffered for her misdemeanour.

They screamed when I made myself visible to them, scrabbling to the far corner of the room and cowering. It took several seconds to convert them and Angela’s refreshed memories came flooding back. I gathered her to me and held her. Jacqueline fell to her knees and wept.

I made my way back out of the house with the two of them. The first step had been made and things would now move to the finish. I hoped we would be ready.