The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

A sound sleep seemed to elude me that night. I was having a vivid dream of Stephanie, straddling me, and rocking her hips purposefully. The flush of sex was on her face and neck while my cock felt gigantic and perfect inside her. Her eyes remained closed throughout, except for the occasional orgasmic flutter, and the only sounds in the world were her slightly-labored breaths and soft moans of pleasure as she rode me. I lay absolutely still underneath her, a masturbatory toy in flesh and blood, with my priapetic dick serving intimate pleasure with every movement as she wished. My dream Stephanie began to churn her hips faster, her breathing now coming in panting gasps, the moaning louder, more frequent, and more sustained.

And then I woke up. The dream was real. I tried to move, but couldn’t. Stephanie was masturbating on me, and I couldn’t do a thing about it except to watch. “Unnnnggghhhh!” Her loud grunt coincided with her orgasmic spasms. She threw her head back in pleasure and I felt her vibrate around my cock. Emitting a satisfied groan, she relaxed and finally realized that I was awake. “Good—morning—my—Lord— Airingford.” she said, kissing me between each word. I couldn’t respond to point out that it was still dark outside, nor could I express my immense displeasure at having been used in such a fashion. She could have used a vibrator instead and let me sleep. Stephanie dismounted with a sharp intake of breath and orgasmic eye roll. I still couldn’t move, which only served to make me angrier, especially when I discovered that this magically-induced paralysis included my vocal chords. “Oh, stop looking at me like I’m some sort of evil witch, Ron. Be flattered that I spent a most restless night over not having you—and self-stimulation didn’t even come close to fulfilling my needs.”

Although I couldn’t thank her for the compliment, I also couldn’t keep the smug smile of male ego off my face. So masturbation couldn’t take my place, I silently crowed, ain’t nothin’ like the real thing, baby.

“Claire’s flight will be arriving at Heathrow soon,” Stephanie resumed. “She should arrive at the castle in three hours, at which time, she and I will be sequestered.” She turned to regard me, cigarette holder in hand. “Therefore, I shall very much enjoy the gentleman you are. One who lights a lady’s cigarette and tells her the things she loves to hear, so that I will be most ready to share my passions one final time with you as the Lady Airingford.”

I sat up to face her as I retrieved the lighter from the nightstand. “You are,” I breathed, “one of the most amazingly regal, sensuous, and enjoyable women I’ve met.” I extended the lighter, enjoying the blush on her face drawn by my comment. She drew on the holder and enveloped me with its sweet smoke. “I find you nearly irresistible, my Lady Airingford,” I continued, my dick inflating quickly, “and I would like to touch you—” Stephanie watched my finger as it tentatively extended towards her chest. With a toss of her blonde hair, she exhaled a long stream of smoke upwards, and positioned herself so that her bare chest was presented in wordless encouragement. Her nipple perked at my playful brush, becoming firmer and Stephanie moaned before taking another drag from her holdered cigarette, and once again surrounded me in smoke. Her eyes drooped, and her breathing was shallow through slightly-parted lips. She leisurely put the cigarette out, and laid it on the nightstand, returning her gaze to me, alluring and encouraging as she sat with me. I reached for her; Stephanie melted into my embrace and we fell to the bed, kissing. The sizzle from my prodigious, fully erect cock at each incidental contact with her skin changed the nature of our kisses from gentle and intimate to passionate and sexual within moments, causing us to moan in increasing heat. The Lady Airingford abruptly broke our embrace and gracefully reclined, indicating her eager readiness to join with me, her Lord Airingford.

My second awakening of the day found me alone in my bed, save for a single, freshly-cut, red rose on the pillow next to me. I smiled, one with a tinge of regret: Stephanie may have been old enough to be my mother, but I was going to miss her as the Lady Airingford. Claire had youth and its associated beauty on her side, but I doubted that she would be able to match her mother’s charm and regal bearing, at least not for another twenty years or so.

After lunch, I requested to be taken to my hotel to retrieve my clothes—I had missed checkout by a couple of hours, so I wasn’t sure that they would even be there.

I was a little surprised when the answer to my request was yes, but since they had my passport, they knew that I wasn’t going anywhere. I was also assured that I did not have to worry about my late checkout, and that my affairs had been, “handled appropriately.” After a brief consideration, I allowed that the Hellions’ reach could have easily extended to my hotel.

When I returned to Airingford Manor (I still couldn’t bring myself to call it home) late that afternoon, Charles informed me that my attendance was required at dinner. When I asked why, I was told that it was my duty to preside over the “evening’s events,” for the Lady Airingford would be unavailable, and unable to make an appearance until after dinner.

I entered the reception room to a hush. Unlike the first time, the men greeted me with respectful deference, while the women were— interested. Emma was not there, but Mr. Ravenscroft was. He didn’t seem as adversarial now, greeting my glance with a polite incline of the head. Sensing no anger, I asked after his wife a little while later, in a private moment. “She is... still recovering, milord. Thank you for choosing her.” Nothing of any real interest happened during either the formal reception or dinner, and I was beginning to wonder if my so-called fiancée and mother-in-law-to-be were even in the building.

When the majority of guests were well on their way to finishing the dessert course, Charles leaned to me and whispered, “It is your task to tell me when dinner is over and the Hellions’ gathering is to commence so that I may announce it. All is in readiness in the ballroom, so I have only to receive your signal, milord.” He stepped away, ostensibly clearing my plate, only to take up discreet station near the ballroom entrance.

I waited five minutes before waving to him. He immediately tapped on a glass for attention. “The Black King bids you all good evening,” he boomed, filling the dining room with his resonant voice. “He calls for the Gathering to commence.” People began to move towards the exit, some remained, hastily finishing their dessert, the table conversation forgotten. A circumspect hand signal from Charles indicated that I should wait. Charles nodded when the last guest departed the room, and I prepared to make my grand entrance, all the while wondering where the hell Stephanie was.

The acknowledgement of my exalted status was annoying, as usual, as I walked to the dais, where three empty chairs sat. I took my place at the center one, relieved that someone had put my name on a placard and set it on the cushion, while trying to act more composed than I felt. I didn’t know what was supposed to happen, or when.

One of the ballroom’s hidden doors, this one behind me, opened. Stephanie stepped through, dressed not in her favored BDSM leather or vinyl wear, but effeminately in the prototypical “little black dress.” She looked wonderful, but gave me a perfunctory greeting and sexless peck on the cheek before taking her seat next to me without another word.

Charles stepped into the ballroom entrance, cleared his throat, and announced “Miss Claire Airingford.” Any miscellaneous discussion in the room ended, and I could feel a sense of excited anticipation begin to build. She turned the corner and stepped into the ballroom. The first time I saw my future wife in the flesh, I (as well as everybody else in the room) saw all of her. Claire was stark naked, and seemingly unconcerned, standing in the hall’s entry with an unnaturally placid air. I was thinking that Claire was consumed by “the Gray,” until I realized that Stephanie wasn’t wearing the sapphire. “Claire Airingford,” Stephanie spoke, almost scaring me. “It is time to unlock the secrets of your family. The bond of family is most sacred and once accepted, it can never be relinquished. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Claire’s voice sounded far away, her expression was blank, and she simply... stood there. It was evident that she was enchanted, but it didn’t look like any of the spells that Stephanie had revealed to me. “I accept.”

“Then approach the altar, and petition your Lord to unlock those secrets. I shall surrender all the Secrets of Airingford to my heir, leaving my title, my rank, and my rights to these secrets should he accept.”

Claire walked slowly, perfectly upright, towards me. Stephanie stood and signaled everyone to do the same, announcing, “Hellions, the Great Gathering has begun. Make ready for the Rite of Transition.” Everyone in the room undressed, and a circle spontaneously generated itself as Claire continued her steady, direct approach, oblivious to what was happening around her. The circle of Hellions around the room began chanting softly, and in a language I could not recognize, let alone understand. Stephanie was looking out over the room, ignoring me, but my questions lost their relevance when the circle began to coalesce into a gigantic daisy chain, and I began to have a physical reaction to the sights and sounds of sex; there was no magic involved.

Claire arrived at the dais. She was very pretty, tall and lean without being skinny, with wonderfully firm breasts. “Lord Airingford, wilt thou accept me as the Lady Airingford?” I said yes without any prompting, wondering if that would make her snap out of her enchantment.

“Wilt thou commit thyself to turn the key that unlocks the secrets of Airingford?” Claire continued, showing no sign of expression or awareness. Although I had no idea of what it might take to “unlock” them, I agreed because I reasoned that it wouldn’t kill me, but answering with “no” might. She knelt, and took me in her mouth, her face devoid of cognition, but her blowjob was slow, sensual, and on par with Emma’s. However, as soon as I was hard, she stopped, stood up, and woodenly held out her hand. The secret door through which Stephanie had entered was open again, and a faint light flickered from within. “Lead me to the magic place, where you must make me your lady, and unlock all that lies dormant within me.” I hesitated, looking for Stephanie, who had somehow disappeared while her daughter was preparing me to fuck her. Claire said nothing, gazing emptily into the passage. It would have been nice to tell me what I’m supposed to be doing here, I thought. Oh well, nothing ventured...

I placed Claire’s hand on top of mine, and she matched my first, halting step towards the door. I walked slowly, not knowing where I was headed, and left the ballroom for the unknown darkness of a secret passage. The door closed behind us after about ten steps into the passage, leaving nothing but pitch blackness behind us. The faint, eerie light flickered ahead, so I kept walking slowly forward, strangely more concerned about Claire falling than where I was going.

The scent of burning candles quickly became stronger, and we stepped into a chamber dominated by a stone altar. I stopped short at the sight of a hooded figure standing next to it, but Claire let go of my hand and continued towards the altar with the same dreamy, entranced air she had possessed when she had entered the ballroom.

“It is time, daughter of my womb,” the hooded figure said with Stephanie’s voice.

“I am ready, mother who birthed me,” said Claire in a flat, emotionless monotone. She ascended the steps leading to the altar, and positioned herself on hands and knees.

“Ronald Stone, as her Lord Airingford, it is your sacred duty to release the secrets held deep within her body since shortly after birth. Fulfilling this will cement the bond between thee. Prepare thyself.” Stephanie locked her daughter into shackles on the altar, hardly a maternal gesture, and then loudly said something else I couldn’t recognize as a language. Her voice echoed in the chamber, seemingly amplified to an almost-uncomfortable level. I wanted to ask Stephanie what I was supposed to do, but it was too loud for me to be heard, even if I shouted, so I waited.

The echo faded normally enough, but when it was quiet enough for me to be heard, another sound filled the chamber, one I immediately recognized as the Hellions’ chanting from the ballroom above; simultaneously, a detailed movie of a very specific sex act began to play in my head. I lost any interest in determining the source and cause of what was happening, only wanting—no, compelled to physically perform the act that I was mentally viewing, as the movie replayed itself constantly in my head. I stroked myself to full hardness minus the magical enhancement while ascending a built-in, wooden step that positioned me perfectly for the act that had gone from instruction to compulsion in the time it took me to step to the altar.

Stephanie squeezed a large glob of lubricant into my hand, and I quickly coated my dick, massaging the remainder around Claire’s ass. She didn’t move or make a sound while I played with her, but when I began to push into her ass, Claire responded with a gasp and long, sensuous moan, and soon enough, I was pumping at her ass, and she was humping right along with me. I didn’t know or care if Claire was still in the throes of her mindless enchantment; she was enthusiastically thrusting back at me, and it felt great! Her ass began to smack against my hips eliciting a little grunt each time. She was effortlessly taking all of me in her ass.

I don’t know how long we fucked like that, but my orgasm stayed well out of reach despite the thundering sizzle our fucking sent through my body. “The lock has been primed, Lord Airingford,” said Stephanie in a very official voice, sounding completely unaffected by the spectacle of the sex taking place inches away from her. “It is time to turn the key.”

My left hand moved automatically, finding Claire’s clit without search, hesitance, or active thought on my part. “Ohhhhh... Ohhhhhh... Ohhhhh,” was my fiancée’s reaction, her grunts transformed into moans of passion with a distinctly British accent while her body did not miss a beat. I was still going all the way into her, and she continued rocking in perfect counter to each forward thrust of my hips, the pleasure emanating from my cock was dizzying, but still seemed to be disconnected from my orgasmic climb. Another eternity seemed to pass with me suspended in this incredible bliss, my body acting on its own until I eventually became aware of a change. Claire’s effortless rocking had slowed, and she was beginning to rotate her hips at full penetration. I hadn’t realized that my strokes had slowed to match her changing movements until I thrust forward and stopped to let her grind, her hips rolling in a circle, my hand pressing forcefully against her clit.

Claire started a moan that became deeper, and her body started to vibrate, and then, with a powerful scream, her hips snapped sharply downward, and she squirted onto the altar with a loud splat. Gasping hoarsely, she very slowly pulled forward until just the corona of my cock remained in her asshole. She threw her head back and bucked, thoroughly impaling herself anew, and with a scream torn from her throat accompanied by a gigantic shudder, Claire ejaculated again. Once more, she drew a loud, ragged breath, but this time, I pulled my hips back, rubbed her clit faster and harder, and then forcefully drove my cock into her, my hips colliding resoundingly with her ass. Claire gasped, and ejaculated again, issuing a long groan immediately afterward.

Instead of collapsing, however, Claire began to fuck me some more. “Oh god you’re big!” she panted, moving deliberately, with effort now, and moaning constantly. “Ohhhhhh... Motherrrrr... He’s... he’s—”

“Yes, Claire, I know,” Stephanie interrupted as she knelt alongside the altar to place a gentle hand on her daughter’s face. She looked at me, and the happiness faded from her face, replaced for a moment with a somewhat wistful and sad expression. Somehow, I innately understood that it signified that her reign as the Lady Airingford had ended, and with it, her rights to me.

The moment passed quickly, and Claire’s moans of passionate pleasure became much more prominent in my mind. “Ohhhh you feel so— GOOD!” she yelped. Not wanting to hurt her, and without the sense of urgency created by an X-rated film loop in my mind, I matched her slow, careful movements and the tingle started shortly thereafter. I began to pant her name repeatedly, and with a final sigh of, “Ohhhh... Claire,” I came. Pulses of heat coursed through my dick in tandem with peaks of intense sensation throughout my body. When I could see again, Claire was wiggling her ass, purring happily at the last vestiges of my ejaculation, while I was still hard and long enough to stay inside her. As soon as I slid out, my knees turned rubbery, I sank to the cool floor of the chamber, and everything went black.

“Hello, my Lord Airingford.” Claire’s voice awakened me to her pretty face. We were still in the secret chamber. “We will rejoin my mother shortly,” she said. “She’s waiting for us in the ballroom.”

I sat up, and noticed that she was now dressed. “How long have I been asleep?”

“In here?” I nodded. “About two hours,” she replied. “But to the real world in the ballroom, perhaps a minute or two.” Before I could ask her what that meant, Claire smiled and asked, “I have two very important questions for you, however. First, may I call you Ron, Ronald, or would you prefer that I use the formal form of address? We are British, so that would not be as unusual as you may think.” I told her that I strongly preferred Ron, and asked what the next question was.

“Ron, this one is a little more difficult,” Claire warned. “I want you to come to the family crypt with me. The Lord and Lady Airingford are supposed to share their first kiss in the presence of our ancestors. You can say no now, and wait for me here. But I think it only fair to tell you that, one way or another, our first kiss will take place in the crypt.”

“Ah,” I said. “The sapphire.”

“Yes,” she confirmed.

I climbed to my feet and told her to lead on. Kissing in front of a bunch of dead people wasn’t the least bit romantic to me, but I didn’t feel like enduring “The Gray.” Claire gave me a sympathetic smile, and picked up a small, closed, crystal container half filled with a cloudy liquid that was sitting on the stone altar. I cocked my head, and she immediately blushed, answering the question in my mind. I saw no need to say anything.

We headed down a winding staircase that ended in a door. She pushed the door open with an effort, and we stepped down into the crypt with the door closing behind us. The crypt side of the door was smooth, without a handle, and the stone step on the opposite side made it impossible to push open. Claire lit a candle so we could see, while I prepared myself for the sight of skeletal hands punching through the dirt just so I wouldn’t have a heart attack and die on the spot when they did.

Claire seemed preoccupied with finding something as she worked her way around the perimeter of the crypt, pressing against the wall. “Ah! Here it is!” she softly exclaimed, gaining my attention. A panel in the wall had opened, revealing a nearly identical crystal container to the one she held, also half-filled. She replaced it with hers before opening it and pouring the contents through a stone grate beneath her feet, and then said something in an unrecognizable language. When she had finished speaking, she tapped the wall, and the panel slid shut.

“Ron,” she quietly said, “I have some very important things to tell you. If I should pass away, it will be your duty as the Lord Airingford to insure that our eldest child drinks the contents of the vial I have just put away. Should I pass before having a child, then you must give the contents to my sister, Fiona.” I gave her a strange look. “The Secrets of Airingford are contained within the... vial. Morgan leFay was, among other things, a nymphomaniac,” she sighed. “I gather that was her perverse way of transferring knowledge. At any rate, if for some reason there is no blood heir, then you will have to drink it. An Airingford must always have knowledge of the family secrets and the ability to wield the magical artifacts.”

“But I hope that you’ll know—what to expect—if it comes to that,” Claire mischievously continued, making me blush at the double entendre. “But we’re almost finished with this part of the ceremony.” She sat at a desk that was next to the entry, opened a very old-looking book and wrote something in it, and then motioned for me. I signed where she pointed, and then she stood up to face me.

Looking into my eyes, Claire breathed, “Do you feel as awkward as I do?” as she rested her arms on my shoulders.

“If it helps,” I responded, “I think you’re more gorgeous than your pictures, and incredibly hot.”

She smiled and admitted, “Yes, it does, thank you.” Her eyes lidded, and she leaned forward with her lips parted. We kissed. And kissed. And kissed, finally coming up for air, both of us slightly out of breath, and aroused. “Can this engagement be as short as possible?” she asked. “Would you marry me that quickly?” I nodded eagerly, and Claire beamed, but then her face fell.

I asked what was wrong, and she gave me a brave half-smile. “Oh, it’s nothing really, just the part I’ve been dreading.” At my perplexed look, she elucidated, “I have to open the drawer in the desk.” Claire removed a ceremonial-looking dagger from the folds of her dress. “With my blood. Promise me that you won’t faint.” she turned her head away and quickly drew the knife across her index finger, making me wince in sympathy. She placed the freely-bleeding digit onto a circular depression in the writing surface. A few seconds later, the sound of heavy bolts releasing echoed through the crypt, and Claire removed two boxes, one of which was the one that I had rescued, ostensibly holding the sapphire pendant.

I gently took Claire’s bleeding finger, kissed the wound, and then sucked on it. Her legs wobbled. “Do you have any idea of how erotic that was?” she panted, giving me an impulsive peck on the cheek. “It’s time we rejoined the party, Ron.”

We left the crypt via a well-lit stairway (“the public entrance”) and exited just off the main hall on the second floor.

“Ron,” she said, “if you wouldn’t mind, I would like the chance to clean and refresh myself first. You can wait in my antechamber.” I agreed with nonchalance, and followed her to the Lady Airingford’s chambers. “When we are married—” Claire shot me a smile telling me that she was definitely looking forward to that. “—This will be our suite. Be right back!”

I was feeling pretty good at that point. I had lucked into an engagement with a gorgeous, seemingly vivacious young woman who seemed to be equally infatuated with me. Although I had been shanghaied into this spot, I was not afraid to admit that I was beginning to really like it here.

Suddenly, Claire asked, “Would you be so kind?” holding an unlit cigarette in a holder. I hesitated long enough for her to hand me a lighter and give a specific request. “Please light my cigarette, my lord.”

“Yes, milady. Certainly,” I happily assented, promptly performing the requested service. I was rewarded by having her smoke billow around me, and I felt my desire burst into flame, and the blood rush to my cock.

“Now, my Lord Airingford, let us rejoin the party,” Claire said, putting out the cigarette.

Surrounded by swirling smoke, and wrapped in “the gray,” I replied with the words Claire expected. The sapphire never disappointed on that account. My erection, once again ready and at its full, magically extended length, was painfully restrained by my clothing and obvious. My wife-to-be took my hand, and we left the Lady Airingford’s suite to rejoin the sexual mêlée known as a gathering of the Hellions.