The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The air burned his throat, and he sensed flame and heat waiting to envelop him. The scent was not clean like wood or incense but was mineral and harsh. It felt as though only a thin layer of something, he did not know what, kept it from erupting and consuming everything around him.

He did not have much time, but the bag was almost empty. He hacked a ragged cough and reached into the bag. Bits of grit and dirt had collected near the bottom along with the final pieces. He closed his hand around one and pulled it out.

It was yellow, like the color of sulfur. He sniffed at it. It smelled of nothing. He laid it on the corner and limped on.

In the midnight blue of the morning sky, he saw the towers. The image shimmered as though waves of heat made the air move. Two white and red lights glowed and marked the entrance like a gateway. He thought he might make it; this might not be his final task.

He reached the next corner and dipped into the bag again. This one was red. He set it down, wanting to get away from it.

There was only one left. He did not reach into the sack for it but dropped the entire sack and dragged himself as fast as his weariness would allow towards the glowing signs.

He smiled as he dragged himself the final distance, and as weariness overcame him, he collapsed at the entryway, turned over on his back, and looked at the towers rising above him. The doors parted and cool air blew out. He sighed at the respite, but his vision had darkened, and he did not move again. Before unconsciousness took him, he recognized the smell. It was the scent of freshly-lit matches, and the air was filled and saturated with the acrid odor.

Two attendants came through the door and looked down on him. One checked his vital signs and shook his head. They wheeled a stretcher out and brought him into the hospital. One of the attendants checked his watch; he was looking forward to going home and worried that this arrival might delay things.

Kendall slipped out his front door and slung a backpack over his shoulder. He eased the screen door back so it didn’t slam against the jam and wake his roommate. He kept his steps light until he reached the corner, and then increased his pace.

It was still early for many people to be about, and Kendall let himself enjoy the walk, only occasionally looking over his shoulder.

He paused at the park when he saw the white sheen of dew on the grass. Someone had walked across it after it had fallen, leaving a single set of prints on the glistening field. He knelt down and pulled his digital camera from his backpack. He snapped several pictures from several angles then put the camera away and examined the colors.

A faint rainbow played across the surface of the dew. He adjusted his posture, watching how the rainbow moved.

He tried to determine how he might recreate it in a painting. The color seemed to hover, and was also transparent so the green of the grass showed through. It was something he’d not gotten right when he’d attempted it. It always looked like a spectrum painted over a green field. He thought adding more white might add depth and capture the glistening quality of the drops.

He checked over his shoulder several times as he observed the park. He’d move on if someone saw him. The last of the prostitutes and pushers looked to have gone to bed, but he could do without one of their customers sneaking up on him.

As he did check, he noticed the bright yellow cylinder on the corner. Kendall went to it and picked it up.

Yellow chalk. It was dry. It had been put there after the dew settled. He looked up the street. A green cylinder sat on the corner a block away. He crossed to it and retrieved that piece as well.

He found two more, red and blue, on his way to the community center. When he got there, the lobby was dark, and the doors were locked. Kendall checked his watch. It was 8:10am. It should have been open. He frowned and knocked on the glass. No response.

He sat, leaning against the doors and waited. He pulled one of the pieces of chalk from his backpack and looked at it. He remembered grinding through boxes of them when he was in grade school and imagined that he had redrawn the sidewalk in front of his house a hundred times. He reached into his pack and pulled out the other three pieces.

Red, Blue, Green, and Yellow.

He slipped the red chalk into his right hand and began to doodle on the cement beside him. He began with a circle, then another one which was offset from the first so its edge crossed through the center point of the first. He switched to the green chalk and drew another circle like the second and repeated this with the blue and the yellow. There was now a red circle inscribed by four others, one of each color.

Kendall slipped the red chalk back into his hand and continued. He did not think. It was always like this when he didn’t have an image in his mind at the start. The picture would just grow in his mind.

The red lines crossed around in broad lobes, and he started to see where he might take the image. A form emerged in his mind’s eye.

She was standing on an outcropping over a pit. She had long legs. Kendall saw the turn of her thighs and the way light would catch and make that hollow underneath the curve of muscle and how the muscle tapered to the knee, and then the calf muscle began…

Kendall bounced up, left the unfinished design by the front door and went around to the back of the building. He had remembered the wall. They’d not painted it after adding the extra offices: an entire wall of smooth gray concrete.

The details were clearer in his head. Her long legs tapered at the calves to delicate ankles before turning into tiny high-arched feet. He closed his hand around the red chalk and began to draw.

The shape of her legs sharpened, and the texture of her skin emerged from the shadows where she stood. The pit glowed with the color of lava at her back, an orange-red that made him feel heat coming from it. She stood with her back to him, looking down into the pit. Her tiny movements as she watched let the light color her smooth skin, almost like a caress.

The remainder of her outline appeared in his mind, and his hand moved without conscious thought. Her legs gave way to the smooth swell of her ass and hourglass curve of the hips which nipped into a slender waist.

Her arms hung by her sides, and the fingers were tipped with black, glossy nails which she tapped against her thighs. Long hair, which looked to be the same color black as the outcropping of stone she stood upon, flowed down just below her shoulder blades, and just like the stone, it was glossy enough that it showed the same iridescent play of light at the edges.

Kendall paused and stepped back. The image on the wall had begun to match the idea in his mind. He’d captured the basic form of her, and he began on the details which would make her as alive on the wall to his eyes as she was in his mind.

He’d begun shading the highlights and shadows of the light of her shoulders when the image in his mind turned. She stopped looking at the pit and looked over her shoulder.

Kendall flushed, and an erection rose in his pants. The face was beautiful and cruel with a soft mouth and high, sharp cheek bones. Almond-shaped eyes, which were higher at the outer edges like a cat’s, glowed with the hard color of the pit behind her. She smiled at him; Kendall shivered.

He felt a strange fear at the smile, even as he wanted to kiss the mouth that smiled at him. Her smile thinned, and her eyes narrowed. She turned around and faced him.

Kendall never stopped drawing. Her hair framed the oval face like a portrait. The breasts were high and large. She wore nothing at all, and unlike the girls he’d been with, she seemed bolder for it. The drawing was nearing completion, and she began to walk towards him, the light in her eyes growing brighter, and the smile becoming more frightening and more inviting with each step.

“Kendall?”

The green chalk slipped from Kendall’s hand and shattered on the ground. Kendall turned. Mrs. Thompson, the director of the community center was standing behind him. Kendall looked at the woman who’d taught him to draw and had the sudden thought that she was ugly.

He hated himself for thinking it, and then heard laughing in his head.

“Quite a drawing. What is it supposed to be?”, Mrs. Thompson asked.

Kendall remembered what he’d been doing and blushed.

“I… I was just fooling around.”, Kendall said, looking at the ground.

“Did you find this in a book?”

Mrs. Thompson stepped closer to the wall. Her hand traced above the lines without touching them.

“It looks Celtic, like a tapestry I saw once.”, she said, “It’s beautiful.”

Kendall turned.

On the wall was a circular rune, extending from the ground to the highest point he could reach. The lines revolved around the center point in a geometric pattern, but the lines moving away from the center points interlaced, like the coiled shape of a wreath. A script he could not read lined the edges.

“I was tinkering until you got here. I found this chalk and remembered the wall.”, Kendall bent and picked up the pieces of green chalk.

“I’ll need to get a picture. This is remarkable.”, Mrs. Thompson said.

“Thank you.”

Mrs. Thompson lingered over the rune for several more minutes, her fingers tracing the intricate lines. Afterwards, she placed an arm around Kendall’s shoulder and squeezed him close for a moment, and then they started towards the building entrance.

Kendall paused at the corner of the building, looking at the chalk in his hand. He looked at the rune again, but it was gone. The woman in his mind was standing at the wall, like she was just on the other side of a pane of glass. Kendall flushed with arousal.

He wanted to cross back, but the desire was strange. It was like a buzzing in his consciousness, and it blotted out all other thoughts.

He had become aware of her. He saw the legs, the lips, the eyes, and he wanted all of it. He could imagine touching her, kissing her, feeling her touch him, but that was only part of it. He needed those things.

Like a solid weight in his chest, he also needed to have it out, but sensed that it wouldn’t be coaxed or teased. It would only arrive on its own terms, and he had to obey what it wanted before it would set him free to think again. Kiss her, yes. Fondle her, yes. Feel her, yes. Orgasm, yes. Still not enough; give over to it.

Yes, give over to it. That was the only escape. Kiss not because you want it or because it will give pleasure, do it because you have no other choice. Attempt to consume her because you have no choice. See her disappear into her own desire and become something else. Do it, and the need would lift its buzzing, biting, and blinding grip on the inside of his chest.

She smiled at him, and he felt a wave of something that felt like anger, but with no sense of being threatened. Instead, he wanted to take her and give her pleasure so that her façade shattered, and that lying, superior smile disappeared.

She made no gesture, but Kendall felt the tug of the invitation. He’d not finished. The shape of her throat wasn’t quite right, and the shading on the hint of muscle tone at her stomach needed to be added. He almost went to her, and then he heard the musical, sadistic laugh.

Kendall dropped the chalk and bolted towards the entrance.

Kendall returned home that afternoon as the sun was setting. He chose a different route than normal, only because it meant he would not be able to look back over his shoulder and see the rune as he walked away from the community center.

On the way, he passed the hospital. The exterior lights of the emergency room were on, but they had not begun to compete with the remaining sunlight.

The sidewalk ahead had been marked with several hopscotch boards of both yellow and red. The edges and numbers were dulled. Kendall hopped through two, and then stopped.

He went back to the first board. The numbers were not numbers but had an interwoven, stylized quality, except for the number ten. On each board, the ten had morphed into a lacy rune of the same style as the image he had drawn, except it was of a single color chalk and less intricate.

Kendall looked up the street. Hopscotch boards lined the sidewalk as far ahead as he could see. He looked down the street to his left. More boards lined that sidewalk as well.

As the darkness had continued to fade, the colors of the hopscotch boards took on a glow of their own, as though they made their own light.

On the block ahead, two women loitered on the corner. Kendall walked towards them and hastened his pace.

As he approached, a car slid by and edged over to the curb. One of the women walked over to the car, bending at the waist. Kendall stopped.

The man in the car looked at the woman with a smile, and she mirrored it. His eyes were fixed on the low cut of her top, and Kendall heard their voices like music in the distance but could not make out any words.

After they had spoken a moment, the woman grasped the man’s chin and lifted it so that he looked into her eyes. The man’s face went slack. She continued to speak.

Kendall edged closer. Her voice was different to his ears. He still could not hear the words, but the rhythm had softened until it was a pleasant drone, but her eyes were hidden behind the curtain of her hair. He wondered what they would be like, and if they were like the woman he’d drawn. Those eyes would be worth seeing again, and the memory of them was tantalizing and vague…

He shook his head, and his eyes traced down to the sidewalk. The woman was standing on the stylized ten-square rune of the hopscotch board under her feet.

He crossed to the far side of the street so he walked on the sidewalk on the opposite side from the car and the two prostitutes. He could almost hear the soft words from the woman, and he felt a wisp of the arousal again.

The woman released the man’s chin and crossed around in front of the car and got in. The brake lights went dark, and the car slid away.

Kendall’s head cleared. He put his head down and meant to pass by and get home before the night fell.

He had reached the corner and was halfway across the street when he heard his name being called from across the intersection.

“Kendall.”

Kendall stopped and turned. The prostitute was looking at him. Her eyes caught his, and he could not look away. He took a step back.

“I won’t hurt you.”, she said, “Come here.”

Kendall drifted towards her.

“That’s it. Don’t you find me pretty?”, the woman said.

He nodded.

He reached her, and she extended her hand, placing it under his chin so he met her eyes.

“I know all about you and what you’ve done.”, she said, “She told me everything. Wasn’t that nice of her?”

She reached towards him with her free hand and pulled him close. She pressed against him, letting him feel her warmth, and she guided his hand down her hip and over her ass.

“She told me what you want too.”

Kendall’s mind had gone. The eyes were different, not the one’s he’d seen in his mind; these were dulled, less predatory, but he did not look away.

“She’s unhappy that you didn’t finish. It will make things more difficult.”

“Please.”, Kendall breathed.

“Shhh…”, she said, “Sleep for now.”

Kendall’s eyes closed, and his senses all turned to gray.

Kendall started, like he’d woken from a nightmare. He opened his eyes.

The prostitute was looking at him with cold, harsh eyes, but it was a cold harshness he had seen and understood. They’d lost any power of sensuality or fascination.

“You picking up college kids these days, Rose?”, a voice from behind said.

The prostitute blinked and slipped past, leaning over the car which had pulled up to the curb.

“You looking for a date tonight?”, she asked.

“You look to have found one.”, the man in the car said.

The woman glared at him over her shoulder. Kendall began to run.

The sidewalk in front of the house he rented with his roommate was scrawled with hopscotch boards which had spilled into the street. Kendall danced over them and entered the small house, locking and bolting the door behind him.

His roommate was out, and the house was dark. Kendall crossed through the darkness to his bedroom and closed the door behind him. He slipped his pack off his shoulder, tossed it onto his bed, and turned on a lamp.

He looked at his hands. The residual colors from the chalk were in the lines and swirls of his fingerprints. Kendall stripped off his clothes and started a shower.

He washed until he couldn’t see the colors on his skin anymore, and then stepped out of the shower and dried himself. Re-entering his bedroom, he saw his pack on his bed and the shards of the green chalk which had spilled out onto the blanket.

He snatched the pack and dumped out the contents, gathering the remaining shards of the green chalk, along with the remaining pieces of the others. Crossing back through the darkened house, he unbolted the door, stepped onto the stoop and hurled the chalk as far as he could, and then stepped back into the house, locking and bolting the door.

He filled a glass with water and ice, and flopped onto the couch. He watched a movie and the late news without seeing it. The water was gone, and he was drawing pieces of ice into his mouth and letting the cubes melt on his tongue.

Other than the television, the house was quiet, and he saw no one pass on the sidewalk outside.

The ice was gone by the time he became drowsy, and he was flipping channels when he decided to go to bed. He left the glass in the sink after filling it halfway again and drinking it down in one pull. Crossing back into his bedroom, he gathered his other supplies and stuffed them back into his pack before slipping under the sheets.

Sleep came easy.

Kendall thought he might be dreaming. The woman behind the rune was laying on him, her arm wrapped around his ribs. She kissed his neck, just at the junction of the shoulder. Slow, moist kisses that lingered on his skin after her mouth pulled away. Each time her mouth touched him, he sank further onto the mattress.

She sighed as she kissed him, a soft exhale with the barest guttural sound at its root. The sound resonated in his ears, and he relaxed even more. Her hair was a curtain of silk on his back, and she was warm. He relaxed and felt the kisses, and she tightened her grip around his ribs.

He was content to remain still until her kisses moved up his neck and reached his mouth. The scent of her filled his nose, and he tried to answer her kiss, but his lips would not move.

No part of him would move as he tested his limbs, except for his eyes, and he opened them to see her face in the shadows, bare inches from him, her eyes closed as she placed another kiss.

She pulled away, and the red-orange eyes opened, and she saw him. She smiled. He tried to lift up, but no part of his body responded. She placed a hand on his brow, and the color of her eyes brightened, and his eyes drowsed but remained open.

“You threw your chalk away.”, she said.

He tried to speak. No sound or movement came. She leaned in to him and applied a heavy kiss until he felt his mouth respond. She pulled away.

“You threw your chalk away.”, she said.

“I didn’t want it anymore.”

“It’s ok. I’m not angry, but you’ll keep all my gifts from now on.”, she said and nodded.

Kendall’s mind softened and he heard the words again. His body flushed with pleasure that radiated down his throat, over his nipples and down to his crotch. The intensity made his breath catch.

“I don’t want to draw those runes anymore.”

“But I want you to draw them.”

The pleasure again. The sense of emptiness in his thoughts, like his thoughts were a fluttering candle in a vast darkness. He tried to speak.

“Be still.”, she said.

He was still. She looked as though a shiver of pleasure ran up her spine, and she pressed tighter to him.

“I’m afraid of you.”, Kendall said.

“I know.”, she said, and her eyes sparkled.

She pulled him close and sighed with that guttural purr at its base.

“You were cruel to Mrs. Thompson. She’s always been nice to me.”, Kendall said.

“Yes. I know that you liked her.”

“Why did you think those things about her?”

“You believe them too. She doesn’t make you feel the way I do.”

She took his earlobe in her teeth and tugged, “Does she?”

The candle fluttered and went out. She did not, nothing else ever had. Nothing else could. Nothing.

“No.”

She sighed into his ear, “That’s what makes me hot. I thought you were going to charge after me when you looked back. I don’t know if that’s true for women, but feeling a lust like that moment, is almost the purest pleasure we know.”

“I felt angry.”

She laughed, softly and deep in her throat, “No, not angry.”

Kendall found he could move and turned over on to his back; she let him. He reached for her, and tried to pull her to him.

“Not yet….”, she said lifting a finger and tracing it over her mouth and down to her breasts,

The glossy nail scraped at the hollow between her breasts. He relaxed against the bed and looked.

“That’s fine for now.”

She leaned forward and kissed his mouth, pressing her breasts against him. Kendall shuddered, and his hand drifted up and closed over her shoulder, pressing into her soft skin. His grip tightened as she lingered over the kiss, and she purred in response.

“It wasn’t anger. I’ll teach you to feel that way all the time when you’re near me.”, she said.

Her back arched, and she moaned, “All the time having you want me that much… Delicious.”

Kendall leaned in and kissed the base of her throat, and she closed her arms around his head, pulling him into her. He answered by wrapping his arms around her. His kisses descended down to her breasts and found the hollow between them, alternating kisses on either side of the soft valley.

He found his way to a nipple and teased at it, avoiding the tip and circling around and around until her hand at the back of his head turned into a claw, grabbed a fist of his hair and forced his mouth towards the nipple itself. He resisted, not touching the tip of the nipple at all. She gasped and the fist tightened further and turned to pain.

“Bastard.”, she said.

She dragged his head way and tilted it back. His eyes glanced up and found hers.

He saw the color. She leaned closer, and his senses faded into a buzzing mass. He heard a voice, speaking with a kind of rhythm, and he felt his body ease down onto the cool sheets, and then the weight of her over him.

He felt a rhythmic pressure at his crotch and a pressing down on his chest. The voice and its rhythm continued with the pressure at his crotch, only louder. Their eyes remained locked, and Kendall’s world went dark save for those hellish, beautiful eyes.

He woke sometime later. It was still night outside. She was lying next to him, a thin sheen of sweat over her body that smelled animal and fresh. He noticed that he was sweating as well. He started to speak.

“It’s over now. Be still.”, she said, laying on the bed, her breathing still rapid.

He was still, but he could not stop looking at her, and her eyes found his again. He was ready for her in an instant and rolled on top and entered her. She pulled him down and their lips locked in a kiss that was more bite that kiss. Kendall’s lip was bruised, and he felt her soft guttural moan in his mouth through the pain. His movements became more urgent.

As she approached orgasm again, her face softened, and he sensed her need overtake her strength. The confidence faded, and she looked at him with a kind of desperation and need. The anger or lust or whatever took him at the sight of that vulnerability.

She wasn’t smiling. He wanted that softness to disappear as much as the smirk until she nothing was left but the basest desire. He noticed that his hand was at her throat. He pressed, and her head went back, and all expression disappeared. Her hips rose, and she tensed. A tiny cry escaped from her, and Kendall felt triumph.

He lingered on her for a moment before his body tensed with orgasm as well, and as he did, the blinding pleasure was followed with an overwhelming sense of weakness. He collapsed onto her then rolled onto the bed, his body too tired to move.

She was watching him. Her eyes burned, and the smirk returned, along with a look of triumph on her face as she tensed with orgasm again. Sleep wrapped him and dragged him down. She watched him the entire way.

He woke up the next morning, and he was alone. The sheets were still damp, and his muscles were sore. From the light outside, he figured it was late afternoon, and he was tempted to turn over and sleep again. He stared at the ceiling for a long time before rolling over and getting up.

A lacquered black case was on his dresser. To his eye, it appeared as a single piece until he tried to pick it up. An invisible seam parted, and the lid came off. Inside, an inset rack held brushes of various sizes and textures. Underneath were a dozen bottles of ink of various colors.

There was a note on the underside of the lid, “Paint, and with these the inspiration will find you just as it did before, just as I found you, just as I will always find you.”

He picked up a brush, and an image appeared. She was blonde with hair to her waist. She appeared to be sleeping on a shelf of black stone, her soft nudity clashing with the jagged rock. He took his easel from a closet and began to paint.

The gallery was lit so that the displayed pictures were the only place where light fell. The rest was a candlelit gloom. The patrons moved like shadows through it, their wine glasses catching the candlelight and appearing as faint torches.

Kendall remained in the gloom. His hair had turned white, and he had aged far more than the year which had passed.

He’d become a sensation and an enigma. Mrs. Thompson’s evaluation had been the first one art critics had attempted, but on closer inspection, the runes bore only a superficial resemblance to Celtic art. Some thought Sumeria or Egypt might be sources, but again, these were occasional hints of influence. Several art historians tested other hypotheses. They were all wrong. The art seemed to be influenced by everything at once. For his part, Kendall said nothing regarding the source of his inspiration.

His eyes saw what he had seen the first time; they were all beautiful. They were all seductive. They all needed, and he could not resist them. He no longer tried.

He’d finished the final painting for the show late the previous night, and as he finished, he felt the tug to cross into it, but the creature from his first rune emerged from the darkness behind him and kissed him on the back of his neck. It stilled him.

“She’s not as pretty as I am.”, she’d said.

“None of them are.”, Kendall had responded, “None are as beautiful. None can take my soul since it’s already gone.”

A friend spotted Kendall in the gloom and sat down on the couch next to him.

“They’re beautiful, Kendall.”, he said.

“Thank you.”

“I thought you’d get repetitive in the style, but they’re all different.”, he said, his eyes moving over the illuminated frames, “It’s almost like they’re alive. The small details, they’re all unique.”

“I just see them. I wish I could tell you how.”

The man swallowed the rest of his drink, “I understand. Seeing them together… I don’t know.”

“They scare me too.”, Kendall said, “But, I can’t stop from seeing them.”

The man nodded, “I still would like to have one.”

“Forget about them. You’ll feel different after you leave.”

“I want one, Kendall. I know I can’t afford it.”

Kendall sighed and nodded.

“Talk to Karen. Tell her I said you could pick whichever one you wanted.”, Kendall said.

His friend looked at him, but there was no sense of gratitude. It was relief.

“Thank you.”, he said.

Kendall reached over and placed a hand on his forearm, “Be sure before you pick.”

His friend walked away and drifted through the islands of light. Kendall saw the one that picked his friend, and he saw the moment when the rune changed for his friend as well, the moment he saw it for what it was.

His posture went slack, and he stared at the painting. Kendall turned away.

There was a kiss at the back of his neck, “You have a brilliant success.”

She a crisp white shirt, a tailored black skirt which came down to her mid-calf, and black pumps. Kendall thought she might as well have been naked for the sensuality which exuded from her as a palpable aura.

She had fed on him the previous night, and there was no creature that could resist her when she was flush with that energy. Everyone who saw her paused and lingered for at least a moment, their faces unguarded in desire for her. She smiled when she saw his expression. It was the one filled with that mindless desire that he used to think was anger. He wanted to see her submit to pleasure; he needed to see it and submit to it too.

“Thank you.”, she beamed.

She sat down next to him and pressed close, taking his left hand and sandwiching it between hers. She kissed him on the cheek. A tremor went through him.

“Your friend, he picked the one from last night.”, she said.

Kendall took a sip of his drink, “Yes.”

“She’s not as beautiful as I am, but she’ll be perfect for him.”, she said.

“None are as beautiful as you.”, Kendall said.