The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“I’m sorry…” Izzy whispered, her face looming above my own in the dim lighting of my bedroom, her swirling, glowing, and violet-colored eyes burning deep into the depths of my mind. “It’s just—… This is for the best, I think. I don’t know… I don’t know what else to do, Blake...”

I hated it when she made that face, even then, when it was covered with an incredibly thin, fascinating layer of white fur.

She just looked so… unhappy.

It always put a strain on my heart, even when I was only half conscious and under this strange, beautiful creature’s captivating spell.

The tears dripping off of her cheeks and falling down onto my own felt painful, almost; her bright, swirling, and violet-colored eyes looking down at me.

If only Izzy had just let me speak, then maybe I could’ve said something sweet to her, like how I would never have gotten along so well without her there by my side since pops died; like how much I finding her sprawled out somewhere in the apartment watching anime after work because it gives me a reason to enjoy coming back home; like how much giving her company and cleaning up after her abundant messes fills me up with some bizarre, pathetic sort of purpose to my tragic little life…

If Izzy had asked me what I thought, I would’ve told her that I didn’t want this.

But she didn’t trust me, for whatever reasons she had for doing what she did, what she said, next.

‘You’re so stupid, Izzy…’ I helplessly, meekly thought to myself, hoping and praying she had some sort of mind-reading ability behind that mystical, captivating gaze of hers.

Sadly, that didn’t appear to be the case.

“Just sleep, for now. Forget about me, and forget about the days we’ve spent together. Dismiss anything that causes you pain or grief, from here on out.” The sweet girl with snowy, white fur and large, tufted cat ears sticking out of a long, silvery mane said to me, and I mindlessly obeyed, turning over to nuzzle her soft, fuzzy, and very comforting thighs for what I believed in that moment to be the last time i that moment. “When you wake up, this will all feel like a distant, forgettable dream… And, I, uh…”

Izzy mumbled in her soft, broken voice, pausing for a moment to choke back tears and sniffle.

“I love you too, little brother… I’m so happy that I was finally able to meet you.”

Laying down on the couch, my body snapped upright in a panic at the first sign of consciousness. I sat there for a long time in the dark silence of my apartment living room, my eyes wide and my heart thumping rapidly in my chest. I had no idea what had woken me up. Come to think of it, I didn’t have any memory at all of falling asleep last night, either. How strange...

The digital, red-lit clock on the blu-ray player under my television and the painfully uncomfortable chill in the air informed me that it was morning, and that I was almost late for work.

Shit, I thought, slowly twisting my strangely well-rested body from the couch to stand, the involuntary, spine-racking tremors of chills from the icy-cold, unheated air overtaking my nervous system, my brief sense of unease and distress quickly forgotten about and dismissed as yet another night-terror.

They weren’t uncommon, and ones like that one weren’t those that I took for granted.

I couldn’t remember a thing about what my subconscious had tried to put me through last night, and my mornings usually went much smoother without a paralyzing sense of their context lingering within my thoughts.

In fact, I felt better than I had in a long time.

Instead of stiffly inching my way towards the bathroom like I normally would have, I practically skipped out of the living room (making sure to switch on the central heat as my dumb, forgetful ass passed by the thermostat) and down my short hallway at a brisk pace, slipping into the bathroom and dashing towards the shower in a flash. The hot water was on and running before I even realized what I was doing, and the explosive rush of steam that it produced caused a visible wave of goosebumps to sprout across every inch of my shirtless upper-body while it was leaned into the shower. It didn’t take long for the bathroom to heat up, and in doing so, my shaking torso quickly relaxed.

When the misty warmth of the steam spread out further into the bathroom, the heater had just begun to blow out hot air of its own from a small grate in the floor as well. I sighed with relief and turned around to walk over towards the sink’s counter, then braced my elbows against the marble surface and slumped over, not giving a damn about anything in the world except for how comfortable the air was becoming as the seconds peacefully passed by. It was so nice, I thought; this moment was amazing.

For the first time in a very, very long time, my head was clear. I was… I wasn’t suffering; I wasn’t making myself suffer. I had absolutely no desire to think about the past, and I found that I was content with myself, for once.

It was strange, sure. That wasn’t lost on me. Still, it felt too nice for me to really give a shit about the why of it all.

Well, it’s like they say: Don’t look a gift-horse in the mouth.

And as to why “they” say that, I don’t think I’ve ever really thought about it, come to think of it...

After some time, I rose and stood up straight to get a good look at myself in the mirror, but my view was blocked by all of the steam that’d built up on the reflective glass. I swiped my hand in a zig-zag motion down the center length, and was shocked by two very distinct things that I should’ve noticed as soon as I woke up. Firstly, and secondly, I was cut. Like, physically, and metaphorically, all over my muscular body.

When did I start working out again, when did I get a pet, and how did I somehow fall asleep on it?

Or something, fuck. This was spooky, I thought. It’s not that I wasn’t used to being this shredded (again, literally and figuratively), but my arms, back, pecs, and abs were as muscular and defined as they had been years ago when I finished boot camp, and were also covered with the distinct, swollen claw markings of a cat.

Only if that cat’s paws were almost as big as my hands, anyway. Did I do that to myself in my sleep somehow? … Was the demon from my sleep paralysis nightmares real?

My mind was swimming with questions as I blankly stared at my blurry reflection in the mirror, which had quickly fogged up again before I realized it.

Then, in the blink of an eye, I’d quickly forgotten what I’d just been thinking about.

The confused expression on my face didn’t change in that instant, but it did lighten up a bit as I stood there and tried to recall why I’d just spaced out like that.

That was weird, I thought to myself with a shrug, then turned around towards the hot shower and leaned in to ease a bit of cold water into its flow. So were the scratches, granted, but I am a restless, heavy sleeper, and this wasn’t the first time I’ve somehow managed to injure myself in my sleep. If anything, I probably dropped a fork between the sofa cushions and it just roughly dug against my chilled, numb flesh. As far as my muscles were concerned, who knows? I’m no slacker, and maybe lifting all of those heavy boxes in the mailroom finally started doing something for me in that department.

Once I was actually in the shower and cleaning myself up, any of my previous, suspicious thoughts that’d been lingering around in the back of my mind seemed to drift away into oblivion. Despite all of the bizarre and forgettable instances before that moment and the few that may or may not have followed, something strange happened after I’d stepped out and began to dry myself off in the warm, misty air. There was a towel that I had grabbed from the small set of shelves above my toilet, one that was softer than the rest, light-pink compared to a plain, basic white, and when I brought it up to my face, it had a smell that both was and wasn’t familiar at the same time.

I didn’t understand why, but the sweet scent coming from that unfamiliar cloth felt nostalgic to breathe in. It carried a wonderful, girly smell that I felt as though I’d gotten used to recently, but one that I somehow knew I would never get to experience again. I pulled it away from my frowning face, but it was the last thing I wanted to do in that instant.

Staring down at the small, pretty towel in my hands, I wondered where it had come from, and wondering why I was crying.

It was certainly cold out there, in that dreadful flurry of snow. The park bench beneath me was just as chilling as the air, and its thin, metal bars that the side of my body was laying against seemed to ignore the thick, black hoodie and sweatpants I wore. My thin coat of fur was keeping me from dying of hypothermia, at the very least, but a large part of me silently prayed for such a dull, deserving fate.

It was what I deserved, after all.

I had taken advantage of the only man in this world who would, who could ever love a twisted monster like me. My own flesh and blood, used for nothing more than cleaning up after me and satiating my carnal desires. Blake deserved better than me.

For over a month, I’d selfishly slept in his bed, ate any and all food around his home without consideration like a glutton, tortured and teased his two best friends by wearing next-to-nothing when they were around while never being kind to them (I can’t say that part wasn’t fun), caused him countless headaches with my irreparable insecurities and borderline bipolar outbursts of petty discontent, and worse of all…

I had raped him. More times than I care to recall, and without any shame before or after each incident. Of course, we had made love quite a few times while he was awake and more than willing, but the majority of our sexual encounters involved me throwing him into a trance, forcing him to fall unconscious, so that I could manipulate and do whatever I pleased with his wonderful, delicious body.

It was safe to say that the shame was very much present within me, then.

After a time, I’m not sure how long, I slowly and stiffly sat up from the bench, annoyed that the layer of snow building up over the side of my body was melting slightly and seeping into the fabric of my clothes and the fur protecting my flesh. Finally, I began to shiver. The weight of my actions started to become less painful than the cruel, icy sting of the winter elements around me.

Although, looking back on it, I wish I had just stayed there until the Reaper came for me. When I managed to rise and bring myself to my feet, a familiar, short figure came jogging along the park’s sidewalk several feet away from me, not paying any mind to the poor, forgotten girl he shared a home with the day prior. It was Blake, on his way to work, and likely right on time, if I’d known the standard route he took each morning.

If I had known he would be here, I would’ve gone much further than just a few blocks away after I’d left his apartment.

One thing that both touched and broke my heart at the same time, was seeing a partial bit of his face as he passed, most of it masked by his own, dark-grey hoodie pulled up over his head.

Blake was smiling. Grinning from ear-to-ear, even. Making an expression I would only see when we were spending time together and laughing about something either mean or stupid that one of them had said in regards to anything that deserved it, or when I would put him under and have him talk about an early, happy memory of his life, or when he would see me disrobing before I jumped into his warm bed with him.

This time, he was most likely smiling because he didn’t have me in his life to cause him any more trouble or excess grief.

That final thought did me in, and I resigned myself to standing there in the park like a statue, silently and pathetically sobbing to myself in the cold.

Aimlessly, I eventually began to wander down the sidewalk in the opposite direction that Blake was travelling, with no destination in particular.

Like the rest of my body, my feet had gone completely numb from the ice-cold water that had seeped into my tennis shoes. The slow pace I walked at only grew slower and slower as the endless moments of self-pity trudged on along with the invisible needles digging deeper and deeper into my aching muscles. And, of course, it wasn’t long before I was completely lost in the frozen, concrete jungle of Imperial City.

The tops of the towering buildings that scraped the dark, early morning skies above me weren’t visible if I had looked up at any moment, but I could barely keep my eyes open let alone even glance down at the ground that my feet were crunching against. I was sure that the tears on my cheeks were frozen along with the melted snow that’d seeped into my clothes; that I would eventually fall to the ground as I did then out of exhaustion and the lack of a will to continue; that I deserved what was happening to me for abandoning my mother and sisters at the castle because I was too selfish to do what the duty of my family commanded of me. And, I was absolutely certain that Blake was going to live a much longer, happier life without me.

… What I didn’t expect, was to wake up where I had, or for a certain monster to be the one that had found me.

Something was wrong.

“Hey, Blake!” Melvin, my supervisor, said just as I had punched in on our outdated time-card machine. “How’s the girlfriend?”

“Fine, I guess.” I said flatly while trying to keep my composure as calm and collected as possible, not knowing what else to say besides: ‘What the fuck are you going on about, Mel?’, or, ‘Why is it Tuesday, of next month?!’

“Fine?” He chuckled, letting out an awkward snort during. “If that’s all you’ve got to say about her, then it doesn’t sound fine, bud.”

Okay, a couple of things were wrong.

I looked up and away from the misdated time-card and towards Melvin’s face, who was smiling like an idiot, rather than someone who was genuinely concerned about his employee going through a relationship hiccup.

Ohhh, I thought to myself, all of this was some kind of stupid prank, or something.

With a shrug and a sigh, I wordlessly turned away from Melvin, exited the warehouse portion of the building, and then began down a hallway that led towards my puny, little office.

It’s too bad that Melvin couldn’t get the hint that he wasn’t being funny. I swear, if the time-card thing screws with my pay at the end of the month, I’ll be more than a little bit upset. If fact, I’ll be very fucking upset.

“Blake, wait up!” Melvin called out. He stood there in a strange sort of shock when I hadn’t reacted to him forging the dates on my card, nor when he mentioned something about one of my exes, and simply walked away with an understandable disinterest.

We weren’t friends. I knew that he didn’t have any, and was always desperate to make a few with those who worked under him. It didn’t matter to me, though.

If it weren’t for Dominic and Justin, two of my old highschool buddies that always showed up to my apartment unannounced and uninvited, I could say the same about myself.

Friends were overrated, and Melvin, a man nearly twice my age, should’ve accepted that fact by now.

Again, and in general, it was a shame that Melvin couldn’t take a hint.

“What’s wrong, man?” He asked, the familiarity in his voice sending chills up my spine, for some reason. Sure, I may be an antisocial zero on a level comparable to his, but something just felt strange about the way he spoke to me. He was acting as if we’ve casually chit-chatted before. “Was it something I said?”

“Sorry, I’m just not feeling well.” I blurted out, quickening the pace of my speedy steps as my anxiety levels were threatening to break through its metaphorical container’s proverbial roof. “I just—...”

I stopped in my tracks, suddenly experiencing a powerful and instantaneous shift in my emotional state.

“I… Uh.” I muttered, shaking my head.

Melvin gently put a hand on my shoulder, and I flinched fairly hard.

“Oop, sorry.” He said, quickly retracting his arm and stepping back. “I forgot that you don’t like being touched.”

“Y-yeah…” I sighed, and as genuinely relaxed as I could’ve possibly been, I turned around to face him with a weak, reluctant smile. “Glad you remembered.”

Despite that fact about me being true, I’d never told him about it.

Something was wrong.

“Are you and the lady going through some stuff?” Melvin asked, still wearing the friendly mask he wore when I started worrying about the—... Wait, what was I freaking out about, earlier? “I know what it’s like, man. Y’know, having been through two divorces myself, but I’ve talked your ear off about it enough.”

“You’ve been married before?” I asked, cocking my head to the side as I examined the tall, skinny man. He wore the same light-blue, long-sleeved, button-up shirt and puke-brown, khaki pants that made up our gaudy post-office uniforms. The guy wasn’t totally unattractive aside from that, but his deathly twiggy build and the dark lines in his aging face and neck made him look like the Grim Reaper, if they were, y’know, a postmaster. It’s hard to imagine what kind of women had actually agreed to get romantically involved with him, let alone marry the guy.

“Yeah.” Melvin openly laughed, something I know for a fact that I’ve never witnessed before. “That’s the spirit. The past is dead and gone, right? It’s time for me to finally move on with my life.”

Okay, a couple of things were wrong.

… Wait, haven’t I thought that today, already?

Feels like I’ve thought it a few times, now that I think about it.

“Which is why I feel weird about bringing this up since you and your lady are in the middle of a spat, but you’re the only one around this place who would probably give a damn about the news.”

Unless he was about to introduce me to this girl that I’m apparently dating, then I didn’t give a damn about any other news, honestly.

Still, not wanting to say anything that I shouldn’t to my boss, I just continued standing there with a polite, half-smiling expression on my face.

“I decided to take your advice.”

’What advice?’ I wanted to say, but didn’t. ’I’m shit at giving advice.’

“Over the weekend, I went out and hit the bars for the first time in over a decade, and man, let me tell you, I fell head over heels for this one girl.”

Why am I picturing a short, blocky woman that’s built like a semi-truck and is as lively as a dead cat? Je-sus Christ, I thought to myself while suppressing a giggle; I forgot how fucked up my sense of humor could be when I was in a good mood. Then, I blinked a few times as Melvin continued, wondering why part of me genuinely felt happy for him. His news actually sounded like good news, but at the same time, I knew that I didn’t give two fucks about my boss and what his weekend entailed… Was I going insane?

“She’s amazing, Blake.” Melvin said, following the statement up with a dreamy sigh. “She’s beautiful, kind, feisty, passionate, beautiful,—”

“You already said that one, babe.” Said the smooth, loving voice of a young woman as she stepped out from behind Melvin, having been unnoticed by either of us up until that moment. “But, as always, thank you.”

I took a slightly-too-dramatic step backwards, completely unexpecting such a radiant hottie to make herself present.

“Of course, baby.” Melvin said, lifting his arm up to put it around her soft, narrow shoulders. “Blake, I’d like to introduce you to Mary.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Blake. Mel here has told me oh-so much about you.” Mary said, extending her hand out towards me with a limp wrist.

I didn’t understand at the time that she expected me to take her hand and kiss it, as if the situation wasn’t fucking weird enough.

Mary, a woman who appeared to be in her late twenties and could easily pose as a model for any agency of her choosing, frowned when I didn’t respond accordingly.

But, how could I? Here I was, staring in disbelief at a woman who was nearly six-feet tall, had long, platinum blonde hair tied back into a professional ponytail, a bustline that likely needed special-order bras to accommodate her heaving, cleavage-spilling breasts, a slender waistline that flared out into a healthy set of hips, a long pair of bubbly legs that were mostly exposed because of her less-than-professional, dark-purple dress, and visibly smooth, lightly-tanned skin that lacked even the slightest of blemishes. How could anyone not see her for the first time and become instantly stunned like I was.

The fact that she was with Melvin, of all people, was the part that really had me in a perpetual state of disbelief.

I was speechless, paralyzed, and couldn’t seem to look away from her big, beautiful, and violet-colored eyes.

After a single second, her smile returned, and the iris of her eyes seemingly began to glow, melt, and swirl around.

“You were right, Mel. He’s adorable.” Mary giggled, keeping her gaze locked onto my own as I felt my muscles relax and my body’s posture straighten up on its own.

“I told ya’ so.” Melvin agreed, his voice now devoid of the friendly tone that it once had mere seconds ago, the words coming out of his mouth and his creepy expression carrying a strange hunger along with them. “Blake is perfect for what I have in mind.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“C’mon, let’s all go to Blake’s office and... get to know each other better.”

“Lead the way, Blake, and don’t come out of your current state until I explicitly allow it.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I found myself saying. I then turned around without another word and continued on the path to my little corner of the building, confused, but aware that I should be panicking.

It was just one thing after another today, it seemed.

As I was saying before, a place like this was not one that I would’ve expected to find myself waking up in.

Low lights, naked men and women everywhere, tons of red and black decorations, the smells of sex and passion and shame, the cries of those being either pleasured, tortured, or an odd mix of both.

Was this hell?

“Ooh, baby… Yeah, right there! Ah!” Some long-haired redhead moaned from a chair, similar to the one I found myself in, from across the room. She wasn’t all that pretty in the face, but her lithe, supple body was attractive enough, I realized.

The tall, muscular man on his knees and between her legs was a different story, though. He was built like a brick house, covered in definition lines and lacking even an ounce of fat. I could only imagine what that monster could do with his tongue, but judging by the way the middle-aged woman was squirming and squealing, it wasn’t hard to guess his skill level. The tight, leather mask that was wrapped around the entirety of his head, leaving only his mouth exposed, was attached to a bright, red collar around his throat. It took me a moment to figure out what that small, golden object dangling around on the back of his neck was exactly, but it wasn’t long before I realized that it was some kind of locket, keeping the fetish gear forcefully bound to him.

Not far off from them, two women and a limber, skinny gentleman were each on their knees and handcuffed at their hands and feet to three, black-steel poles. The two women were leaning towards one another and making out without a care in the world, all the while one lucky, overweight, black man was sliding his girthy and extra-long cock between where their red-painted lips were magnetically attempting to connect, leather-strapped gagballs loosely hanging around their slender, pale necks. The fit young man next to them, who Mandy assumed had just barely turned twenty-years of age based on his attractive looks and hairy torso, just helplessly looked on at his female counterparts and moaned from his place on the maroon carpet below. While choking on the thick, red gagball in his mouth, his small, adorable cock and oversized balls twitched, throbbed, and was occasionally letting out a few clear spouts of hands-free ejaculate.

His big, blue eyes were devoid of any sense of self, just like the busty women lined up beside him, and none of them appeared to be struggling against their restraints in any way, as if they were ultimately content with both their placement and treatment.

Those were just two of the many couplings and mini-orgies going on around the room, but the main attraction was located in its center, where a mighty, sexy woman stood, the only one wearing any sort of clothing that couldn’t be classified at fetish gear. She was poised there with pride and confidence, legs spread apart and hands firmly placed on her hips as she towered over and looked down a linear row of five individuals, each of them helplessly meeting her scanning gaze. Their mouths were slightly open; their eyes were empty with their pupils heavily dilated; the entirety of their respective figures trembled and shivered as their also respective (and respectively-sized) genitals were all visibly either leaking or ejaculating constant flows of juices.

The long, flowing, and glittery orange dress hugging her overly-tall, bombshell of a body didn’t leave anything to the imagination, and even while I was facing the woman and her subjects from behind, I could tell that her breasts were just as large as her equally impressive donk just because of how much of their covered mass was exposed from the sides of her slender, athletic torso.

If I hadn’t immediately recognized the bitch from her short, wild, but intensely beautiful, strawberry-blond hair, I might have started to believe that I had awoken in heaven itself.

It’s too bad that my first guess was actually the correct one.

“I’m in hell.” I groaned, spitefully and silently lusting after Blake’s English landlord, my long, thick tail flicking around behind me in frustration. After a moment or two of hateful glaring that went unnoticed, I realized that the only reason my tail was openly, visibly flicking around in the first place was because of her.

“Now, we both know that that’s entirely not true, my feisty little runaway.” Miss Roth called out as she turned her head to the side. As soon as half of her smile and one of her haunting, blind eyes became visible and locked onto my own, a temor of fear rocked my spine and caused me to flinch. Anyone else, any normal human, to be more precise, would assume that this woman would be unable to see because of her eyes’ unnatural, grey, pupil-less appearance, but those like myself, experienced and more than knowledgeable about one of my natural enemies, understood that was not the case. “You are without your cloak because of your own careless decisions.”

Utterly ignoring what she said, I grit my teeth and clenched my fists in fury, my emotions intensified by the fact that she was likely the one who had found and stripped me when I was unconscious, doing whatever she wanted with my amazing body.

“Enough with the idle fantasies, Princess Isabelle.” She said, slowly turning around to face me completely. The five men and women she turned away from stood their ground, not appearing to realize that their mistress was no longer interested in them. Not that they would, or could care, given the type of spell that Miss Roth had likely put them under. “I was the one that found and stripped you, but I’ve done nothing else, aside save you from turning into a cat-sicle.”

I didn’t bother to say anything or dignify her words with any sort of verbal response. There wasn’t any point. You’re listening to my thoughts as soon as I think them, aren’t you, Miss Roth?

“You are correct on all accounts, my lady.” She chuckled in her sultry, accented voice as she began across the room towards me. Nobody around us seemed to be paying any mind to Miss Roth, nor the fact that she appeared to be talking to herself in a heightened volume. “And you need not worry, I have no intention of turning you into one of my thralls. Not anytime soon, anyway.”

“How generous.” I grumbled sarcastically, feeling my fur slowly rise and fluff out to rise and stand on end, the noticeable, visible spread of my fearful anxiety apparent to anyone that way paying attention. Speaking of paying attention…

With a gentle, catious sniff of my powerful, button-nose, I recognized several sents and aromas drifting around in the air along with those of sex and heat. Now that I was aware of her presence, Miss Roth’s musky, canine odors were easily detectable, but there were others in there with us, too. Glancing around at the multitude and variety of patrons around the large room, I instantly learned that the two of us weren’t the only demi-humans in the room.

“Very astute, Princess.” Miss Roth said, stopping just a meter away from where I was sitting. Standing at approximately six-foot-six, the tall woman was towering over my trembling frame, and I couldn’t help but pull my knees up to my chest and hug them in defense.

“Stop calling me that.” I growled. “I gave up my right to the throne the day I left the castle against my mother’s wishes.”

“I would, but, even now, you still insist on acting like a helpless little pawn, only able to act when you have the strength of others behind you.” Miss Roth shrugged and crossed her arms over her bountiful, squishy bust, her smile still unwavering, as it always seemed to be, I noticed. “For example, you’re cowering like a cornered creature, ready to stupidly swat at me if I were to reach down and comfort you.”

“C-comfort me? How absurd!” I blurted out, my limbs trembling as they slowly moved to bring me onto my unsteady feet. “When we first met, you sucker-punched me! Wait, no, you—!”

With a quick, upward rasp of her thin, white, walking stick, which I had completely failed to notice was in her grasp somehow, I felt a sharp, painful sting strike right between the plump lips of my pussy, flowing all along the short length of its inner folds and being intensified on my now-throbbing clit.

Just as I had managed to stand, I dropped to my knees with a chirp and a whimper, hands covering my twitching private area.

“You f-foul, rotten bitch!”

“Ahh, such fond memories. It feels like it was just yesterday when I- oh, it was yesterday, wasn’t it?” Miss Roth giggled, wearing an expression on her face of pure amusement. “Silly me. Time slips away when you’re managing the largest underground brothel for demi-humans in Imperial City. Speaking of the time we shared yesterday, how has my darling Blake been doing since he found out about your little secret? He kicked you out of his home, didn’t he?”

I froze at the mere mention of his name, then looked down to the dark carpet in shame, regret, and sorrow. Every single moment Blake and I ever spent with each other in our short time together began to flash through my mind, pulling open fresh wounds that the freezing cold outside and the intense atmosphere of the room had pushed to the back of my immediate thoughts. It all came rushing back, and I started off with a few strained, silent sobs, but it wasn’t long before that had devolved into full blown crying.

I don’t know how long I sat there, having completely forgotten about everything else around me.

Miss Roth felt the need to lower herself down onto her knees and break me out of my self-inflicted suffering by grabbing a fistfull of my long, silvery hair, pulling my head back so that my teary-eyed gaze could look directly into her own empty, grey orbs.

Miss Roth was no longer smiling.

In fact, she was frowning, and bearing her wolf-like fangs at me, now fully aware of exactly what I did to Blake earlier this morning.

“What in God’s name have you done?”

I had to admit, this was turning out to be much less entertaining than I had expected.

“Mmm… That’s the spot.” I moaned, feigning enjoyment from Melvin’s awkward and borderline uncomfortable motions. “Oh, Mel’!”

He was down on his knees in front of me as my backside was perched up against a small, metal desk, one arm wrapped around the shoulder my thigh was resting on while his tongue and the fingers from his free hand aimlessly worked and fumbled away at pussy. It wasn’t all bad, but as soon as the old, inexperienced man found a pattern in his uncoordinated motions that would cause a constant build-up of pleasure, he’d switch it up, and I’d do my best not to let out an audible and frustrated sigh. I pitied the poor soul, on some level.

“Mmnah, yeah… You like that, don’t you?” Melvin groaned, looking up into my eyes before pressing his mouth entirely into the whole of my snatch so that he could reach his slimy tongue as far into me as possible.

Again, it wasn’t completely terrible, but it was a far cry from the sorts of skillful acts I’ve had performed on me in that region from much more impressive men than himself.

“No one’s done it better.” I said, forcing a smile and returning his gaze as best I could. I moaned again and pretended to shiver for a few moments in delight, letting out a squeak or two to really bring it home.

Melvin seemed satisfied with that, finally, and slowly pulled away from my crotch once he suspected my fake orgasm had subsided. He sure looked impressed with himself when thin trails of his drool and my juices were made when backing up, but it wasn’t worth mentioning then that my pussy just naturally flowed like a waterfall when the right thoughts came to mind. The next thing that happened, though, almost destroyed any sort of rapport I’d built up with my current client thus far.

Blake, his name was, had proved himself to be much more entertaining than Melvin, and all he’s done is open his pretty little mouth since we were introduced.

“How does it feel, Blake?” Melvin said as he used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe away the fluids from his lips. “Are you jealous, now that I’ve got a hot babe ready and willing to do anything for me, while you don’t have anything?”

His darkened, shark-like eyes were filled with a deep, spiteful hatred for the young man he was speaking to, the one who Melvin had asked me to hypnotize and subdue Blake so that he could treat him like a helpless, pathetic cuckold.

It’s almost a shame that Melvin hadn’t asked me to rewrite his personality, because, well, Blake doesn’t seem to be that sort of person.

Blake just returned Melvin’s psychotic, bone-chilling smile with a simple and polite grin of his own, one leg kicked up over his knee with his hands patiently folded together in his lap.

“Honestly? This whole situation is just making me hungry. Is it break-time yet, boss?”

Don’tlaughdon’tlaughdon’tlaughdon’tlaughdon’tlau-

“Damn it!” Melvin swore through grit teeth, turning around to pick up a thick, metal stapler lying on the desk I was on. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

I gasped as Melvin wound his arm back and threw it right towards Blake’s face, still too distracted by his silly comment to at least try and make an attempt to stop him.

“Ah, fuck!” Blake cried out, clutching the side of his face where the backside of the office tool had firmly smacked him. “Me?! The fuck’s wrong with you, you goddamn nutjob?!”

“There’s nothing wrong with me!” Melvin roared from the bottom of his lungs, then lifted up his leg to deliver his shoe into Blake’s chest and stomach with as much force as he was able to put behind it. “Where do YOU get off, calling ME crazy?!”

My left eye twitched with frustration, a small quirk of mine that would show no matter what kind of mask of emotions I forced myself to wear.

Like, I suppose I understood Melvin’s animosity towards Blake, on some level.

He’d approached me over the weekend at one of my favorite clubs, having been pointed in my direction by an acquaintance of mine, looking for an escort. Not just any escort, though. Someone who could pull off that whole “devoted girlfriend experience” thing, and over the course of a few days. Most girls in my profession wouldn’t have any problem or trouble going through with it, but he was looking for someone willing to play the role over the course of an entire week.

The few he had come to about the suggestion were put off by the whole thing, whether or not the man could afford it. To them, and myself, Melvin almost made it sound as if he was going to live it up until his meager, mailman savings ran out and then kill himself once it was all over. After he explained his dreadfully long and boring life’s story, I managed to find some shred of pity for the poor old man. What really had me interested, to be truthful, was what he kept saying the ultimate purpose of it all was. To try and get a one-up on one of his younger and much more handsome coworkers.

According to Melvin, Blake had been working under him for the past couple of years, and had always been a big, mopey ball of depression and negativity. Blake didn’t hardly speak to anyone and kept to himself for the most part, and then, one day, just after taking a short leave of absence after his father had passed away on him, he was a new man. He began conversing with his fellow employees, started eating lunch in the breakroom with everyone else instead of doing so alone in his office, and especially, was talking about this wonderful woman he had met on the day of his dad’s funeral.

At first, I assumed he was just a harmless, old salt that never really had anything going for him in life, pissed off at the world for his own shortcomings and lack of initiative. Sure, he managed to wind up as a postmaster for the largest and most technically advanced city on the planet, but that was just it, his profession was outdated and virtually pointless at this point in this world’s level of development. I figured that anyone who just stuck with the job long enough would eventually wind up in his position, so when he originally started boasting about that, I just smiled and nodded with false agreement in an effort not to damage his easily dismissable ego.

Because of that, I didn’t see the harm in wanting to give Melvin a new outlook on the world by introducing him to my supernatural powers of persuasion.

And no, I don’t mean my gorgeous looks or amazing rack that could make any straight man or free-spirited woman pause and start drooling, just as Blake had done at the mere sight of me. I’m talking about my eyes, and the influence they gave me over almost anyone I was able to make eye contact with. On the first night Melvin and I spent together, after being given direct access to his bank account, I was merely a spectator.

He wasn’t the first human that I’d shared the information with, but I did plan on being sure that he was the first that would still remember the details of it once we parted ways in order to show him what all the world really had to offer him, if he looked in the right places. I brought him over to the disguised harpy woman who had pointed him in my direction and used my ability on her without hesitation, just to prove to Melvin that I truly could control the minds and wills of those around me. In less than half-an-hour, we’d rented out a private suite at the lavish hotel attached to the club, and Melvin had his way with that busty bird-girl.

If I hadn’t forced her to believe that he was Robert Stone, one of the most handsome and richest men alive, then she likely would’ve wanted to throw up not long after things had gotten started.

I know I certainly wanted to.

If Melvin had told me he was a virgin, I would’ve believed him after that particular encounter. Hell, our second night together, which was last night, I used the power my eyes held on him after he laughably did whatever he could to make me cum by using his mouth, knocking him virtually unconscious and getting information about his true perspectives on the life he led, while afterwards implanting false memories into his mind of a rousing encounter with myself. It turns out that he genuinely believed everything he had told me when we met, and none of it appeared to be a lie (aside from the part where he was going to kill himself after showing off his fake girlfriend for a week, and to people who most likely wouldn’t give a shit).

Sadly, that’s where my power had its drawbacks, especially when it came to psychopaths like him, and I was just now learning that as I watched him continue to senselessly assault his employee.

The truth, and what someone believes to be the truth, can sometimes be two very, very different things.

I hadn’t at all realized the fire in his eyes and tone that appeared each time he previously mentioned Blake wasn’t simply out of jealousy or envy, it was in a deep-rooted, tucked-away form of malice that was only just now surfacing.

“Arghck!” Blake coughed, now laying on the ground and taking yet another one of Melvin’s merciless stomps to his chest and stomach.

“Awe, what’s wrong?!” Another kick struck, and my left eye twitched again. “Are you sad that your BeAuTiFuL gIrLfRiEnD dumped you?! That she won’t be waiting for you at home to kiss all of these boo-boo’s that I’m giving you?! Well, don’t worry, because you won’t be going home!”

Melvin paused for a moment to catch his breath and let out a sinister chuckle, looking down on a wincing, pain-stricken Blake.

“I can do anything I want for the next few days, and I’ll make sure that the only way you can get out of here, IS IN A FUCKING BODYBAG!”

“Excuse me?” I had to say, interrupting the last kick that the young man would’ve received, even if I hadn’t done so. My client had officially crossed one of my only lines.

“What?” Melvin growled as he slowly craned his head around to look at me, appearing to be more annoyed than anything else. “You said that you would help me with, and I quote: ‘whatever I desire’.”

Rather than his words, the disturbing smile that formed when he said that caused my proverbial mask to fully crack, past that of an eye twitching.

“Do you desire to kill this man?” I asked with a patient smirk and wide eyes, rather than the bubbly smile I usually had painted on my face. “In all fairness, I never mentioned it solely because I didn’t think you were capable of it, but that is grave in violation of our verbal contract.”

While I was still trying to be professional about the situation, Melvin didn’t bother to apply any such restraint.

“Oh, shut up, whore.” He said with a roll of his eyes while maintaining his unnerving smile, never looking directly into my own eyes for good reason. “I pay you, and you do what I say. Are we clear? Or do I need to kick some sense into you, too.”

I didn’t flinch when his foot went to the side and created a prominent dent in the desk’s face next to me with the action’s emphasis, just as he had been doing when stomping down on Blake.

Being called a whore, though, that drove the final nail into his own coffin.

Such a distasteful term.

“Go ahead and try it.” I dared him in a sickly sweet tone, my smile growing as I poked out my chest, emphasizing the bulging, prominent cleavage that my breasts were producing in the purple, off-the-shoulder dress I wore. “You don’t have the balls.”

And then, just for an instant, Melvin’s stunned, hateful gaze glanced up into my bright, swirling eyes.

The old man stiffened up for a moment, but each and every emotion present in his mildly intimidating demeanor and facial expression vanished without a trace before long. He straightened his posture and took a deep breath to subconsciously relax himself, the redness in his sweaty face slowly vanishing. Then, Melvin’s pupils slowly became as large as the iris surrounding them, completely obscuring their hazel coloring.

Just as he had been last night, Melvin was then utterly, completely under my control, and at the mercy of my words.

“Now, you pathetic little insect, it seems that—”

TWACK!