The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Natasha put her foot down. The car groaned louder and dragged ahead, past the tractor, and for the first time in what she wanted to call hours, she saw the open road. In the mirror, beyond Heidi’s blonde curls, beyond her handbag on the parcel shelf, and through the mud-flecked rear-window, she saw the familiar cloud of black fumes. The car juddered but then settled. She let go of the breath she was holding.

The road was empty, but there were still hedgerows on each side, hemming them in. Overhead were the arches of bare trees. Green was turning to skeletal brown. The hill, flat-topped beneath the clouds, rose ahead of them. The farmhouse was supposed to be on the other side of it.

She glanced back again. Heidi was still looking petulant. She had put those big round sunglasses—the ones that seemed to cover half her face—back on and she was hiding behind them, arms folded. There had been no sun all day. In the passenger seat, Sarah had turned away from both of them and was staring with determination at the blur of fields and woodland as the afternoon dimmed around them.

The tension was like a triangle, drawn out between them and now they were each daring the others to speak first. In the morning, they’d argued about where to go for coffee in Hebden Bridge. After they’d found somewhere with a free table, Sarah had grimaced with each sip of the provincial coffee and Heidi had looked in vain for suitable male talent. Then, when Natasha had finally driven the car to Heptonstall village, (up an incline that she still felt someone should have warned her about) and when they had finally found Plath’s grave, Heidi had stood, shivering and bored in her tight pink t-shirt. Sarah kept apart from both of them, contemplating the stone and the verse and occasionally flicking out a glare.

Natasha had only thought: If we’re like this now, how are we going to last the evening? She suspected that Heidi and Sarah had exchanged words before she’d picked them up this morning. With hindsight, the smiles and Heidi’s hug and air kisses seemed even less genuine than usual.

She didn’t know why they’d had to choose today to fall out.

Until now, their reading group had been fairly successful. Some girls, like Sarah were there from love of the literature. Others, like Heidi, were there for the drinks and an audience. Natasha was happy to settle for something that got her away from her empty flat, from other lawyers, from the next day’s cases. To have an excuse to read something that didn’t have two people’s names at the top and a “v” in between.

It had been her idea to rent a farm house in Pendle and have a day travelling through the countryside and an evening telling each other ghost stories. There had been a certain inevitability to the way that everyone had claimed enthusiasm until they had to part with a deposit and then the excuses came out and only her, Sarah and Heidi were left, too bloody-minded to back out.

The road climbed around the flanks of the hill now. She’d forgotten it all; the parade of dead and dying mill towns, out of Yorkshire and into Lancashire, the decaying Victorian architecture of the ruling and serving classes. Now they were in what her mother would have called “proper countryside”. Fields, turning into moorland. Towns, thinning into villages and hamlets. They passed through Pendleton and then the Sat-Nav took them up on to the hillside on a fractured tarmac road. There were some low buildings ahead. Starlings scattered across the sky and into the east.

The car wheels slipped on loose gravel and she heard a theatrical sigh from the backseat. She gritted her teeth. Anger welled.

They reached two gateposts and a rotting five-bar gate that had been lifted from its hinges and leant against the grass verge. Sarah looked at it with distaste.

The sign on the gatepost seemed to read “Malkin Farm”. Natasha was sure that the web page had called it “Maiden Cottage”. She tried to remember the pictures. The shapes of the huddled buildings looked familiar, but where were the flowers? She hadn’t expected anything so ... bleak.

She pulled up in the wide cobbled yard and immediately she saw the closed shutters that covered the windows of the farmhouse and the blackened ivy that was attacking one of the walls. There were some dilapidated buildings on the other sides of the yard; a cart shed and a barn, also shuttered, and some stone troughs that had filled with dark water. There was no sign of life, recent or otherwise.

From the passenger seat Sarah looked around her, scanning from the battered looking outbuildings, to the shuttered farmhouse itself, to the greyed out sky and the clouds unfurling over the top of the hill and then finally, fixing her gaze on Natasha and Heidi. She was clearly laying the responsibility for all of it on them and waiting for an admission. Natasha could see the anger boiling up. There was going to be shouting.

I’m not going to wait for it, she thought.

She gave Sarah a thin smile, turned off the engine and slammed the door behind her.

It broke the spell. Let them talk. She didn’t care any longer.

The day had stayed cold, and the wind rushed a river of noise through the yard. It coiled around her, whipping her hair out like a long fluttering black wing. Fallen leaves swirled across the cobbles. She walked away from the car.

She’d worn a long woollen sweater and she pulled the sleeves down over her hands and wrapped her arms tightly around her. The wind slid in between her clothes and her skin. Her jeans felt tight and cold against her legs.

The farmhouse was two stories high and built from rough, irregular stones. Black stones, grey mortar, but all of it taking on a greenish cast. Crooked chimneystacks sat on top of a shallow and mossy roof. Around the base of the walls, cobbles turned to cracked paving, broken with sickly weeds. The eaves of the roof drew everything further into shade. She examined the shutters. They were firmly locked, the dark brown paint starting to peel. In the doorway, more leaves had collected. The door itself was solid wood, with thick iron hinges and square door studs. It was firmly closed. She saw a key hole and a heavy black door knocker, but no handle.

The key supposed to have been left for them, under a mat, but the only thing near the doorway was an upturned plant pot. She tilted it and peered underneath. Woodlice. She recoiled as they scurried across the paving.

Natasha made her way along, examining the window sills and anywhere else that might hold a key and deliberately not looking back at the car. Behind her, one of them started knocking on the car window, but she refused to turn around. They could get out and help.

Maybe there was a door on the other side of the house, looking on to the hill.

She walked around, trailing a hand on the wall, ignoring an increasingly insistent knocking from the car. She pushed the side gate open. It led into an overgrown garden that she could vaguely imagine as the distant descendant of the pretty cottage garden that was pictured on the website.

At the end of the garden, between two sycamores, a path led up on to the hillside. There were more closed shutters on this side of the house, but no door. She swore, kicked the wall and then composed herself with a couple of deep breaths and braced for her friends’ reaction.

As soon as she came back into the yard, she saw that the car was empty.

The doors were shut, as she’d left them, but Sarah and Heidi were gone. So were the car keys.

She called out and the sound was swallowed into the empty space between the buildings and the hiss of the wind. There was no answer.

She pulled out her cell phone and stared from the “No Signal” message to the hulking shadows of the house and the hill. Even so, she gripped the phone tightly, like an anchor, as she turned on the spot, looking, hoping.

They hadn’t come past her and they clearly couldn’t be in the house. Where had they gone?

A door slammed. Creaked. Swung. Slammed again.

Not the house door, so that left the one she’d seen at then end of the barn.

Her boots were not easy on the cobbles but she ran. Turning around the corner of the building, she saw the door hanging ajar. She flung it open, ready to give them an ear-full.

An empty gloom. No-one there.

She saw the same dark and jagged wall-stones. A little light through the shutters. Stalls that were broken and collapsed and a hay loft that looked unsafe, but no sign in the dirt and dust that anyone had been there before her. There was a memory of a smell of long dead animals and silage.

She saw something else, glinting, metallic. It lay on the floor beneath one of the shuttered windows. It was a key.

Relief flooded her. If she could get in the house there would be a land line. If the worst came to the worst, she could phone Toby. He’d complain and he would probably expect ... but he would come and pick her up. Heidi and Sarah could walk home for all she cared.

She stooped to pick it up and as her fingers touched the cold metal she heard the clatter of a car engine. The relief was gone. She felt a sudden dread of meeting someone else at this place; a dread of who would come here, of why.

The stones were rough against her palms as she leant into the window opening. Watch, she thought. Wait.

Through the crack in the shutters she saw the empty yard.

Saw her blue Renault Clio pull up.

Saw herself, huddled into the brown woollen sweater as she got out of the car and crossed the yard, her long black hair flickering in the wind.

She pulled away and blinked. What the hell was... She put her eye towards the crack again.

She saw Sarah and Heidi, sitting in the car again. She watched them, watching her, the her that had, minutes ago, examined the locked door of the farmhouse and refused to turn around. She saw Heidi say something, and Sarah give a monosyllabic response.

The shadows of the barn were cool and damp around her. The light from the gap between the shutters fell in a thin vertical band across her face. There couldn’t be any warmth in it and yet she could somehow feel the contrast on her skin.

The sound of the wind outside was a muffled whistling and yet she didn’t know if she was hearing the wind now, or then. Which time was passing? And if she left the barn now, who would she find in the yard? Her thoughts spiralled but she held herself upright and watched.

The then Natasha stepped away from the farmhouse door, tracing her hand absently along the wall.

Now, she saw Sarah and Heidi shouting silently from inside the car. They had seen it.

The door of the farmhouse was opening.

Or, maybe it wasn’t the door. She could still see the solid wood filling the doorway, but its image was faint, as if the colour had been scratched out and she was seeing the darkness beneath it. It was the darkness that was moving, opening inwards.

She saw the outline of a hallway from which black shadow spilled out, like a negative of lamplight. The shadows lengthened across the cobbles, towards the car. Sarah and Heidi could see them too. They were rapping their fists silently against the glass.

Still, the then Natasha refused to turn around, even while the darkness from the house flowed past her heels and branches of inky blackness fell across the car.

Still, she watched. Sometimes, in dreams, she would do things that she knew were wrong. She had the same feeling now. She knew, distantly, that she should be hearing her own voice, screaming. There ought to be fear, anger, revulsion, all of them welling up inside her, but the only feeling that surfaced was a strange need, to watch and to know. She wanted to see it happen.

Her friends were nearly hidden now. She could see flashes of colour and movement, but everything was being blotted out. The then Natasha had disappeared around the back of the farmhouse. The yard had fallen into almost total blackness, beneath the grey autumn sky.

In the barn, the shadows held her with a cool touch that seeped through her clothes and trickled over her fingers. Maybe, if she looked down, she would see her hands dipping into liquid black. But she didn’t look down.

Outside, the darkness pooled against the walls and crept upwards. She pressed close to the ribbon of pale light, feeling the edge of it begin to draw upwards as the shadows licked it away.

She blinked. Clouds crossed the sky and turned from grey to black, as if the sun was going out.

She blinked again and saw that Sarah and Heidi were now outside the car. Their wrists pulled out ahead of them, drawn by knotted black strands that stretched into the open doorway of the house. Their steps were unsteady, as if the darkness had to be waded through. But they’re following, Natasha thought, not fighting.

She felt that same, thick, dark, wrapping itself around her. The darkness whispered, and it felt like many soft lips brushing against the soft skin of her cheek, the back of her neck. Shadows clotted in her ears and matted her hair. They were filling her mouth, heavy and sticky like treacle.

The line of light was vanishing. Her friends were walking through the shadow-door into the house.

Blackness pulled over her eye like a satin veil. In the doorway of the house she saw a tall, thin figure looking back at her.

Then she was falling and after that, there was nothing at all.

When her eyes opened, she saw the night sky through the open barn door.

Natasha pulled herself to her feet. Her whole body felt heavy, as if something was trying to drag her back down. A strange thought skimmed across her mind, that it would be good to stay there, wrapped in the dark and listening to it whisper. She wouldn’t let herself think that. She had to move and she stumbled out into the yard again.

Ahead of her, past the car, a thin rectangle of light yellow light outlined the doorway to the farmhouse. There was light too at the edges of the shutters.

They must have... maybe she hit her head or...

She was at the door before she realised what she was doing. Even then, she didn’t stop. It swung open with a gentle push from her hand and she stepped through into a narrow hallway.

This place was old, she thought. The carpet was thick and patterned and worn. There was an empty coat stand and a mahogany side table and a Grandfather clock with a loud methodical tick. On the wall there were some hot flickering lights. Gas lamps. She’d seen them in a museum. The light didn’t quite reach to the far end of the hallway, and the staircase vanished upwards into the dark.

There were two closed doors and one that was open. The house was nearly silent, but from that open door she could hear ... something.

The room that it led into was lit from above with the same yellowed gas lamps. The light reflected from gilded mirrors and brass candle sticks. The room was warm, and even though there was no fire in the hearth, there was a smell of coal and soot.

Again, the light could not touch the corners and edges, but it bathed the centre of the room, where there was a chaise longue, upholstered in red velvet. Sitting on it, naked but shoulder to shoulder, were Sarah and Heidi. Flat black straps bound them at the wrists and ankles and their mouths were forced wide around bloated knots of shadow.

They stared back at her.

Heidi raised her arms, trying to cover herself and Natasha realised that her eyes had been drawn down to her friend’s round, heavy breasts and her nipples that stood proud and stiff. Sarah tried to turn her body away but her bonds seemed to pull her back, making her press her skin against Heidi’s. She moaned around her gag.

Natasha crouched by Sarah’s feet and tried to free her. The straps felt thick and solid, and yet her fingers slipped from them each time she tried to take hold. She couldn’t see where, or how, they joined. They wouldn’t pull apart and she couldn’t or get her fingers between the slick black substance of the strap and her friend’s skin.

She could feel the heat from Sarah’s legs though, firm and toned, hot to the touch. She felt Sarah press her legs together. At the tops of her thighs, there was the first glint of wetness.

Both Sarah and Heidi were moaning now, urgently, trying to tell her ... what?

There was a sound from the hall. Motioning them to be silent, she stood up and edged to the doorway. Empty still.

Then, a muffled shout of indignation from the couch. She turned to see Heidi, her arms now bound behind her and somehow levering up so that her upper body tipped forward and her breasts hung free and swaying. Black shadows were entangled in her blonde hair, twisting it tight, pulling her head back. Her eyes were wide.

The lights flickered and dimmed and around Sarah’s neck, and the shadows formed into a thick black collar, holding her head erect. She moaned in protest as her hands were drawn upwards but Natasha saw the gag swell in her mouth and she was silent again. Now, the bonds at her ankles released each other and her legs began to open. Sarah’s eyes looked down, but she couldn’t move her head, couldn’t move anything else at all as her feet, then her knees and then her thighs were parted.

At the edge of Natasha’s hearing, there was a whisper. She could almost feel someone, a tall, lithe body leaning in around her shoulders to tell her...

Sarah’s body was sleek and muscled; for a bookworm she kept herself in shape. Between her legs, she was shaved. Natasha didn’t know why she was looking, why her tongue was parting her lips now, or why it was starting to feel so good to watch these things happen to her friends.

The floorboards creaked behind the chaise longue. The light had grown very dim and in the shadows there, things seemed to be moving. If she waited, and watched, she would see.

Sarah was grinding against the red velvet, and against a black knotted strand that was snaking up from between her legs. Next to her, Heidi whimpered as wisping shadows fluttered across her nipples. Encircled them like loops of black twine. Pulled them taut. Released, repeated.

Natasha heard another moan of need. Heidi and Sarah pleaded silently with their eyes. She realised that the sound had been her own.

Now she felt her head turning, a gentle, invisible hand making her look away from her companions to the far side of the room. There was a door there, glossy and black. Somehow, she hadn’t seen it when she first came in, but it was clear to her now, obvious. The door, and the room behind it, were the reason for them being here, the reason for all of this. That was where she had to go

She smiled at Heidi and Sarah, enjoying the mixture of apprehension and need that filled their eyes. She let the shadows continue to play.

The metal of the doorknob was hot against her hand. She turned it, and the black door opened.

The room beyond seemed to be a library. The walls were lined with shelves and the shelves were lined with rows of leather bound books. She closed the door behind her.

In one corner, a man sat in an armchair, reading. There was a reading lamp behind him, a modern one, aluminium grey. The cable from its base trailed off beneath the shelves. The man was wearing a three piece suit, also grey, well made and well cut. Sharp white shirt cuffs protruded from the sleeves of his jacket. His cufflinks were golden.

Even sitting, she could see that he was a tall man, and slender. He wore a domino mask, as black as the shadows that were binding her friends on the other side of the door. Above it, his hair was carefully combed. Below, there was a thin, sharp face and skin that held the hint of a suntan.

The pages of the book made a dry crackle as he turned them.

She coughed. He looked up at her and smiled. His teeth were bright. She saw his lips move and heard the whispering again, although the sounds didn’t seem to connect the movement of his mouth.

But now she felt the shadows around her, touching her. A black ribbon fluttered around her throat, wrapped it and drew tight. Fingers of black smoke pulled at her clothes and the lips that had brushed against her ear became a wet probing tongue.

She wanted to tell him: that she understood, what he wanted and what she wanted. As she opened her mouth a shadowy finger pressed against her lips. Hands that she couldn’t see pushed softly at her back, bringing her over to him.

He stood. Shadows breathed out of his mouth, encircling her, insinuating themselves between clothes and skin. Her skin prickled but then her clothes tore and were pulled away, vanishing into the dark. She was naked but for the black ribbon he’d given her.

He smiled again and she crouched eagerly at his feet, looking up at him. He nodded approval and she reached up to loosen his suit trousers. He was already hard, pressing against her fingers through the soft woollen cloth. Then she was pulling the zip down and running her tongue up the length of his shaft. She felt several hands pressing on the back of her head. She obeyed them, letting them guide her mouth, ensuring that she took him all the way in. They pushed her down on him until her lips were nearly at the base of his cock. He would be able to feel the back of her throat against his tip.

His own hands were occupied elsewhere, holding up his book and turning an occasional page as she worked him. The shadows moved her slowly now, letting her bring him towards the edge but not past it. Making her prolong his pleasure.

Between her legs there was a sibilant tongue, licking away the downy black hair and leaving her smooth, wet, ready.

He was getting close. Finally, he tossed the book on to the chair behind him and brushed the shadows away from her head and lifted her mouth from his cock.

Please, she thought, make me.

Instead, he wandered past her, beckoning her back into the other room.

Shadows filled it.

They had bent Sarah over the chaise. A vague, dark figure behind her was sliding thickly distended fingers into her pussy. In front, her lips were stretched around something long and serpentine. From out of the darkness, black hands with webbed fingers clasped her head and pulled her down on the thing. Her face vanished into the dark, rose again and dropped hungrily back. Her hips bucked back against the fingers of shadow behind her.

Heidi had been lifted into the air. On each side of her were black, muscled forms sometimes obscured by beating leathery wings. Wisps of blonde hair caught the faint lamp light and were lost again. Long fingered hands mauled at the soft flesh of her breasts and her ass. The thick black shafts drove into her, lifting her with each stroke. Heidi’s arms and legs held tight to the faceless creature in front of her and her head was laid against its chest. Her eyes were closed in fulfilment.

She wanted to walk out into the shadows, to disappear into the shifting mass of shapes and forms that crowded the edges of the light. He held her back from it. Moving behind her, his hands on her hips. Nudging her legs apart.

He was still hard and now, after watching the things fucking her friends, she was very, very wet.

He penetrated her with a slow, irresistible movement. She was his creature now. He was taking her.

Shadows writhed at her feet and coiled upwards. They lifted her heels onto towering spikes, wrapping her legs in shining black to the tops of her thighs. Her breasts were cupped, presented for him. Taut straps criss-crossed her flesh.

His lips kissed the back of her head and she felt the mask, flowing over her face. She pushed back, hard against him, taking him deeper even as the shadows took her body and her mind.

Sarah and Heidi both gave cries of release and she felt it too. He was coming inside her.

The light went out.

She could see everything now.

Natasha put her foot down. The car raced down the hill and through the sleeping village.

The farmhouse was far behind them. It had been a strange night. Strange dreams.

In the mirror, beyond Heidi’s blonde curls, cascading over the dark blindfold and Sarah’s pale brown hair and her pretty mouth, stretched around the glassy black ball that gagged her, the sun was rising.