The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Every fall, the carnival comes to Chrystal Heights.

The carnival sits away from the city limits proper. This is ostensibly so the lights and noise doesn’t bother the residents, but everyone knows it’s actually so as to allow the comings and goings to remain a matter of personal business. After all, say the many, what happens at the carnival should stay with the carnival.

It’s an ordinary carnival in many respects. Once you step inside the gates, you will be assaulted with a variety of noises and aromas. You will hear music, screaming children and carnies hawking game challenges. A deep breath will reveal the presence of cotton candy and popcorn stands. Lights and flashes will tickle the edges of your vision. It might be the same carnival it was thirty years previous, and it could easily be the same carnival twenty years from now. It is, after all, an ordinary carnival in many respects.

Of course, it’s also an unusual carnival in many respects. One can expect no less from a carnival that travels between Chrystal Heights and Darkview on a regular basis.

Many of the more unusual elements can be found in the southern section of the carnival. There isn’t as much traffic here. People tend to walk this area with purpose, as opposed to aimless wandering. Proprietors wait in tents for customers, rather than hawking passers-by. Lights and music are still present, but they simply register as background static. One might say this is a more functional arrangement within the carnival, with more business and less eye-candy. It is sometimes called The Magic Theatre, but quietly, and usually in jest.

Usually.

WELCOME TO THE MAGIC LAMP.

No one under 18 admitted.

The powerfully-built black man studied the tent in front of him. It displayed a gypsy-like affection, although there was actually little to distinguish it from the other tents in the area. Of course, that was usually the case in this part of the carnival. Besides, he wasn’t here for the décor.

The man pulled open the flap and stepped inside the tent. The sweet smell of incense welcomed him as his eyes adjusted to the abundant candlelight. His nose identified various exotic smells besides the incense, and he paused for a moment to enjoy the relaxing ambience. Then he smiled at the dark-haired woman sitting behind the table.

“Hello, Mirielle,” he said.

The woman’s dark eyes softened slightly. “Hello, Walter,” she said. “Have you returned to drink deeply once more from the cup of pleasure offered in my humble tent?”

Walter smiled and his eyes shifted to gaze upon the rows of ornate bottles displayed on simple wooden wine racks. Each bottle offered a different design and several were quite intricate.

“I have indeed,” said Walter.

Mirielle appeared to be ageless. She stood and walked to the closest wine-racked collection of bottles.

“And what flavor would you like this evening, Walter?” she asked.

Walter smiled. “I have a taste for Asian this fine night, Mirielle,” he said.

“An exotic Eastern beauty,” said Mirielle, drawing a veil across her face. “An excellent choice.”

Walter smiled again and nodded.

Mirielle lit a stick of incense and gently blew the spark, producing smoke. She set the incense down and clapped her hands once. “Celia!”

A young woman dressed in a belly-dancer’s outfit entered the area from the back.

“Yes, Mistress?” said Celia.

“Bring out Jia, please,” said Mirielle, “and then prepare the Maili chamber for Walter’s comfort.”

Celia performed a quick curtsy. “Yes, Mistress,” she said, before pattering into the back on quiet bare feet.

Mirielle lit another stick of incense. The air in the tent was becoming heavy with smoke. She sat back down at the table.

Celia reappeared, holding an ornate bottle of finely-wrought Oriental design. She set the bottle on the table in front of Mirielle.

Mirielle sat with her eyes closed. Then she chanted softly while performing intricate hand maneuvers around the bottle. She placed her hands on the table and opened her eyes.

Her eyes were solid black.

Smoke streamed from the bottle mouth. Despite the heavy flow, however, the smoke appeared to remain in the exact same spot, hovering. Then the smoke began whirling in place.

After a time, the smoke slowly dissipated and where the smoke had been, there now stood a barefoot Asian girl dressed in an alluring genie outfit made of silks. The girl’s belly and legs were bare and the effect quite alluring.

“This is Jia,” said Mirielle. “I think you will find her pleasing.”

Jia opened her mouth as if to speak, but instead licked her lips. Her hips moved in a sultry sway as she walked toward Walter. Her heat was visible as her face flushed and her nipples grew hard.

“Jia wants to please,” said Mirielle. “All she can think about is pleasure. Your pleasure. Because your pleasure is her pleasure.”

Jia reached Walter and pressed herself against him. She rubbed her barely-covered sex on his leg.

“Please,” said the exotic beauty, breathing on his cheek. “Please take Jia. Quench Jia’s heat. Let Jia serve you. Please...”

Walter smiled. “She’s perfect, Mirielle. Thank you.”

Mirielle placed her hands together and bowed slightly. “It is a pleasure as always, Walter.”

It was later in the night. Mirielle was relaxed. Then her tent flap was slapped open.

“Knock knock” said a woman’s voice.

Mirielle looked up at the man and woman standing before her. “Can I help you?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” said the girl. She had short black hair and wore jeans with biker boots, a tee-shirt and a sleeveless denim jacket. “I’m Sylvia and my muscular friend here is Byron.”

Mirielle nodded. “Do you wish to partake of the humble services I provide?”

“No,” said Sylvia, smiling. “We wish to partake of the profits you make.”

Mirielle’s eyebrows rose. “I beg your pardon?”

Byron wore jeans, heavy boots and a flannel shirt with the sleeves torn off. His heavily muscled arms were on display. He wore an angry-looking crewcut. He stepped over and stood next to the rack of ornate bottles.

“We’ve been watching you,” said Sylvia. “You’ve got a good thing going here. You’re making some bank. But you lack something.”

“I see,” said Mirielle. “And what would that be?”

“Us,” said Sylvia. “More specifically, our protection. Cut us in and we’ll make sure nothing happens around here you don’t want happening.”

“Yeah,” said Byron.

“I see,” said Mirielle once again.

“Yep,” said Sylvia. “We’re a bargain. We don’t want to break you. We just want a percentage.”

Mirielle shook her head. “I appreciate your offer, Sylvia. And Byron, of course. However, I do not require protection. Our security is quite adequate, I assure you. Thank you for your concern, however.”

Sylvia sighed and shook her head. “Not a good idea...Mirielle, is it? It’s not. Think of us as insurance.”

Mirielle took out a stick of incense and set it up on a long wooden burner. She did not light it.

“I do not require insurance,” said Mirielle. “You are no longer welcome here, Sylvia. I ask that you leave at once.”

“You’re wrong, Mirielle,” said Sylvia. “You do need insurance. Accidents happen, you know. Things break, after all. Tents catch fire. You wouldn’t want accidents to happen, would you?“

“Yeah, Mirielle,” said Byron, picking up one of the ornate bottles from the nearby rack. “Accidents happen.”

Byron dropped the bottle, which hit the ground and broke. Mist rose from the pieces.

Mirielle’s eyes widened. “Stop!” she said. “Please do not break any more.”

Sylvia took a step forward. “Hey, we did tell you accidents happen, you know.”

“You are but children,” said Mirielle. “Why would you act in this manner? I have done nothing to you.”

“Hardly children, lady,” said Sylvia. “We’re both twenty-one years old. Granted, though, we probably look like children to you. What are you...forty? At least?“

“Those bottles are worth little,” said Mirielle. “Please do not continue this.”

Byron dropped another bottle.

Sylvia shrugged. “We’re just trying to be reasonable and do a little business that would serve us both,” she said. “You’re the one making things difficult.”

Mirielle’s eyes narrowed. “All right,” she said. “Fine. I will deal with you if I must. Please refrain from destroying anything further.”

Byron held a bottle in his hand, but did not drop it.

“See?” said Sylvia. “It’s easy for us all to get along.”

“Very well,” said Mirielle, moving the unlit incense to the center of the table. “I will light this incense. This particular scent is used when negotiations between gypsy tribes are taking place. It is unfortunately accurate in this case. Our negotiations must be complete by the time this stick has burned out.”

Sylvia looked at Mirielle. “There aren’t going to be any negotiations here, lady,” she said. “It’s going to be you giving us money.”

“I refuse to be bullied, girl,” said Mirielle. “If you wish to enter a business arrangement with me, then we shall conduct business appropriately.”

Sylvia laughed. “Fine, then,” she said. “Light your fucking incense and let’s finish this. We have other tents to visit.”

Mirielle nodded, then drew a veil across her face and lit the incense stick. She closed her eyes in apparent concentration and commenced what sounded like a low chant.

Sylvia and Byron stood for several seconds, waiting for Mirielle to complete her preparations. The smoke from the incense slowly filled the tent. Finally Sylvia finally took a step closer.

“Enough-uff,” she said. “You’ve had...nuff time.”

Mirielle continued to meditate.

Sylvia’s eyes were glazing. “You...you better...better...have to...to...”

Byron swayed on his feet, blinking slowly. If he noticed Sylvia’s voice trailing off, he said nothing.

Mirielle continued chanting. After several seconds, however, she finally stopped.

“Celia,” she said, “you may come out now.”

Celia emerged from the back. She was dressed in the same outfit as earlier, but she now wore a similar-colored veil across her face.

Celia looked at the glassy-eyed Sylvia and Byron. “I was worried for you, Mistress,” she said. “These two seemed primed towards violence.”

“Aye,” said Mirielle. “They are crude predators, to be sure. But I was never in true danger.”

“I know, Mistress.”

“You have the materials I require?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Fetch them now.”

Celia went into the back and returned moments later. She set the items upon Mirielle’s table.

Mirielle picked up the first item. It was a stiff black leather collar with a small unlocked padlock dangling from the buckle. She stepped over to Byron and reached up to wrap the collar around his neck.

When Mirielle locked the padlock in place, the resulting snap cracked like a whip inside the tent.

Mirielle went back to the table and picked up the other item. It was an ornate bottle similar in size and design to the bottles lining the shelf. It was stoppered at the top.

Mirielle pulled the cork from the top. Dark smoke streamed from the bottle and swirled around the reaction-less Sylvia. The smoke swirled faster and thicker until the dark-haired girl could no longer be seen. Then the smoke reversed direction and streamed back into the bottle.

The space where Sylvia had been standing was now empty.

Mirielle replaced the cork and set the bottle on the table. Then she extinguished the burning incense.

“Excellent,” said Mirielle, removing her veil. “Now, to put my new toys to use.”

Byron blinked slowly as the glaze lifted from his eyes.

“Hello again, Byron,” said Mirielle. “As you see, I’ve made the necessary business arrangements. I may have changed some of the terms of our deal, however.”

Byron’s eyes indicated he was fully functional once again. He still appeared unable to move, however.

“You are mine to command, Bryon,” said Mirielle, “and I now command you to strip.”

Defiance appeared momentarily in his eyes. Then his big hands began slowly removing all articles of his clothing.

At last he stood before Mirielle fully naked.

“Nice,” said Celia, eyes wide as she gazed at his thick cock resting on huge, heavy balls.

“Nice, indeed,” said Mirielle. “In fact, he will do perfectly.”

“Truly, Mistress.”

“Celia,” continued Mirielle, “I need you to go find Walter. Bring him here.”

“Ummm...now, Mistress? Couldn’t I just...?” said Celia, glancing from Mirielle to Bryon.

Mirielle laughed. “Yes, Celia...now,” she said. “Do not fear. You shall have time later to play with the new toy.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Celia left. Mirielle turned back to Byron.

“Follow me,” she said. She turned and walked into the back area.

Byron blinked twice, his eyes a mass of confusion. Then he followed Mirielle into the back.

Mirielle led him to an area in the back. It was sectioned off like a room, one of several sectioned rooms in the back area. She waited for Byron to enter, then pulled shut the curtain. She turned to Byron.

“Lay down on that bed, boy,” said Mirielle, and lock your wrists in those cuffs above your head.”

As Byron complied with his orders, Mirielle stripped off her robes. He locked his wrists in the cuffs just as she finished stripping off the last of her clothing.

Mirielle lifted a small bottle and sprayed herself with it. A sweet aroma filled the area.

Mirielle stepped forward and lashed Byron’s ankles to the metal bedposts, then waited several heartbeats. As she stood waiting, Byron’s cock slowly engorged and thickened. Soon it was rigid and standing at full attention.

“Yes,” said Mirielle, “that scent has that effect. You will remain in this condition as long as this scent fills your lungs. It may seem a blessing now...but perhaps you won’t think so later.”

She took step forward and ran her fingertips lightly over the sensitive underside of his thick shaft. His sudden intake of breath indicated the effect her touch produced.

Mirielle smiled. “It is a shame you are such a lout,” she said. “This is truly a magnificent cock. It is the tool of a man, however. You are naught but a foolish boy.”

She swung one leg over Byron’s waist. She put her weight on her knees and leaned forward, putting her hands on his thick chest.

“This cock is mine to command now, boy,” she said, “and I think I shall enjoy my prize.”

Mirielle pressed her hips back until she felt the fat mushroom head press against her wet sex. She paused for a moment, enjoying the sensation of the pressure against her slit. Then she pressed herself down onto the thick shaft, enjoying the sensation of the solid thickness slowly filling her, increasing the intensity inch-by-inch, until at last her sex was completely filled, hugging the base of his powerful thickness, sitting on his huge, heavy balls.

“Goddess!” said Mirielle. “This is...exquisite.”

She waited several seconds to allow herself to get used to the thickness filling every centimeter of her lubricating sex. Then she slid her tightness up slowly until her lips were wrapped tightly around that fat cockhead once again. Then she pushed herself back down that thick shaft, shuddering as it stretched her out.

Now she began rocking her hips so her wet sex rode his cock up and down. Soon she was pounding down on his shaft without pause, moaning as heat blossomed in her belly.

“Oh, yessssss,” she said. “Goddess! Yes! Yessssss!”

Now she leaned back, her eyes closed as she ground onto his cock. She cried out as her orgasms began...slowly at first, but soon increasing in intensity. Wave after heated wave swept over her.

Byron moaned in need as well, but although his balls ached with the desperate need to release, they refused to give up the seed he so badly craved to deliver.

Mirielle rode Byron continuously in this manner for several minutes. The smell of sex filled the area, as did Mirielle’s repeated cries of release. That thick cock continued to occupy Mirielle’s overheated channel as her sex muscles appeared unwilling to release its prize.

Bryon’s rigidness continued unabated. Had he been able to speak, he would have begged to release. His powerful cock was unable to do anything but serve Mirielle, however.

At last Mirielle brought two fists down and pounded Byron’s thick chest as a final climax wracked her body.

“Yessssss...!” she said, head back.

She finished at last and paused for a moment to collect herself. Then she smiled as she slid off his magnificent cock.

“You were pleasing,” she said. “Excellent. I will freshen and be back for you shortly.”

Byron’s eyes dropped to his rigidly-standing cock. He moaned.

Mirielle was back in the front area a short time later.

Byron was present as well. He wore nothing except a loin cloth and a collar.

The tent flap opened and Celia entered, followed a moment later by Walter.

“Hello again, Walter,” said Mirielle. “You honor my tent once again with your presence.”

The large, muscular black man bowed. “Thank you, Mirielle, but it is I who am honored by your invitation.”

Mirielle laughed and put her hand on Walter’s forearm. “Oh, Walter,” she said. “You are truly a gentleman. Do not worry...I do not seek to separate you from any more of your money.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” said Walter. “So what is it I can do to help you?”

“I wish to offer you a thanks for your continued patronage,” said Mirielle. “In fact, I wish to offer a material thanks of sorts. A free service.”

Walter’s eyes widened slightly. “Really?”

Mirielle nodded. “Indeed,” she said. She pushed the bottle on the table toward him. “Please open this bottle and enjoy the fruits of my tent’s hospitality.”

Walter stepped forward and placed both hands on the bottle. Then he pulled out the cork.

Smoke streamed from the bottle and swirled in the center of the tent. A shape formed in the center of the smoke. Then the smoke streamed back into the bottle.

“Walter,” said Mirielle, “this is Sylva.“

The jeans, tee-shirt and sleeveless denim jacket were gone. Sylvia was dressed in a very brief genie outfit that showed off her curvy attributes. The biker boots were gone. Sylvia’s bare feet pattered the ground as she glanced around, coming to grips with her surroundings.

And her short locks were gone. In their place, long waves of raven-black hair flowed over her shoulders and down her back, ending just below her waist.

“If you don’t mind, Walter,” said Mirielle, “I would like to treat you to a visual display first.”

Walter tilted his head in acknowledgement. “I would be honored, Mirielle.”

Mirielle smiled. “Excellent,” she said. She turned to Byron and said, “Pula...stand next to the curva.“

A heartbeat passed. Then Byron stepped over to Sylvia.

“Very good,” said Mirielle. “Now lift your loin cloth.”

Byron did so. He wore nothing underneath.

“Now, curva,” said Mirielle, “do what you do best to pula mea. He has been a good boy and requires release.“

Sylvia’s eyes widened for a moment as she appeared to resist whatever forces were battling inside her. Then she dropped to her knees and licked Byron’s thick cock.

He hardened within moments. Sylvia ran her tongue along the underside of his shaft once more, then slid her mouth over the huge cockhead. Then she slid her mouth as far down his rod as she could while her slender fingers formed a fist around the base of his cock. Her fist slid up to her mouth, then began moving in sync with her tightly-wrapped lips as Sylvia’s warm, wet mouth stroked over Byron’s shaft.

Walter watched with fascination as Sylvia worked Byron’s cock.

“I was unable to fully follow the wording of your instructions to Sylva,” said Walter, “but whatever it is you told her to do, she is doing it quite well.”

Mirielle laughed. “Truly.”

Sylvia’s mouth worked Byron’s cock desperately. Byron- his balls swollen and heavy from his unreleased load earlier- found himself quickly on the verge of release. This time, however, he was able to explode unimpeded into Sylvia’s mouth, and once he began, there was apparently no stopping as a sudden huge flow of semen shot into Sylvia’s warm, wet mouth.

“Wow,” said Walter. “Would you look at that? That boy’s been coming for a good fifteen seconds and he hasn’t stopped yet!”

“Indeed,” said Mirielle. “It’s good practice for the curva.“

“What does ‘curva’ mean?” asked Walter, his eyes on the desperately swallowing Sylvia.

“It’s a gypsy word meaning ‘flower’,” said Mirielle.

Celia giggled, then covered her mouth.

Byron’s long explosion finally ceased and he pulled his cock from Sylvia’s mouth. He staggered to the table and leaned on it, apparently waiting for the strength to return to his legs.

Sylvia sat back on her bare heels, eyes wide as she placed a hand on her full belly.

“Now, Walter,” said Mirielle, walking over and placing a hand on Sylvia’s shoulder, “I ask you to please take Sylva into the back and fill her tight rear opening with your impressive manhood. Do so and receive the gratitude of my humble tent.”

“Am I to understand,” said Walter, “that you wish me to, ahh, take Sylva’s bottom?”

Still on her knees, Sylvia looked up as she heard her bottom being discussed. Then she gasped and her face flushed as a sudden need to have her ass penetrated and filled suddenly flowed over her in waves. She closed her eyes then, but the sensations only intensified. Soon she was unable to think of anything except the powerfully-built black man’s cock stroking into her tight rear opening, his balls slapping her clit, his seed filling her bowels.

“Indeed, Walter,” said Mirielle. “You are, in fact, free to drop your treasure wherever you wish with Sylva. I ask only that you start from the bottom, so to speak.”

“You honor me, Mirielle,” said Walter, laughing. “I thank you for your generosity.”

“It is, of course, my pleasure,” said Mirielle, placing her hands together and offering a slight bow. “Celia has prepared the Maili chamber for you. Please enjoy.”

Sylvia was kneeling on all fours, ass high, knees and elbows on the mattress.

Walter stood behind her, his feet on the floor. His cock lined up perfectly with Sylvia’s tight rear opening. Then he pressed the head of his cock against that opening.

“This,” said the large black man, “is going to be exquisite.”

His cockhead slowly spread Sylvia’s sphincter muscle. Then her eyes widened as Walter’s cockhead suddenly popped inside the stretched opening. It was a tight fit, but Walter’s cockhead was now firmly planted inside her stretched rear opening.

Walter paused for a moment, giving them both a chance to get used to the sensations. Then he slowly slid his the length of his cock inside Sylvia’s ass.

Sylvia shuddered as the sensation of the black man’s cock sliding into her tight-packed ass produced crazy hot waves of intense pleasure in her belly. How the hell did that crazy gypsy woman do this to her? How the hell was it possible that having something in her ass could make her so fucking aroused?

Then Walter began rhythmically stroking his thick cock into her ass and Sylvia pressed her face against the mattress, trying to mute her moans as the black man pounded her ass silly.

Sylvia knew then she was becoming a helpless ass curva.

In the front area of the tent, Mirielle and Celia smiled as Sylvia’s barely muted cries sounded from the back chamber.

Byron stood by the front tent flap, acting as a doorman of sorts. The neon lights of the carnival outside reflected off his oiled chest muscles.

“So, Mistress,” said Celia, giggling. “Flower?”

Mirielle smiled. “Perhaps that definition was somewhat inaccurate.”

“Truly, Mistress!”

Mirielle smiled again. “Walter is a gentleman, however, and ‘flower’ seemed more poetic than ‘whore’, wouldn’t you say?”

“Oh, yes, Mistress!”

“And Byron,” continued Mirielle, “is now pula mea...which means, of course, ‘my cock’. But Walter didn’t need to know that either. He is, after all, enjoying the chance to plant his seed inside Sylva’s bottom and he does not require a lesson in gypsy slang to do so.“

“Truly, Mistress,” said Celia, but she was not looking at Mirielle. She was looking at Byron.

“Why, Celia,” said Mirielle, smiling, “could it be you wish to drink deeply of the cup of pleasure offered within?”

“No, Mistress,” said Celia, peeking under Byron’s loincloth. She glanced down at her slender body, then at pointed at Byron, her hips wriggling. “I want him to drink of my cup of pleasure.“