The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I was still looking at Tessa when I heard a rattling at the back door. I told Tessa to sit on the couch and act normally—“And don’t call me ‘master’, or act like a slave.” Then, I went into the kitchen. As I did, I saw someone (a tall woman—caucasian, dark hair) come in through the door and enter the kitchen, holding a pistol of some sort in one hand and a long pin-type device in the other. She dropped the pin thing on the floor and pointed the gun at me. I decided that I wasn’t interested in taking her on at the moment, so I raised my hands in front of my body, palms out.

“Don’t move!” she said menacingly.

“Not planning to!” I replied.

She moved towards me, indicating that I should back up by using the business end of the pistol. We moved into the front room, and the woman pointed her gun at Emma. Emma also raised her hands. “Sit on the couch!” the tall woman said, so I did, and then Emma did also.

Suddenly, the intruder seemed more interested in Tessa. She looked at her for a moment, then looked at me. “What did you do to her?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I decided to play dumb. It didn’t take a hell of a lot of work at the moment.

The intruding woman looked at the magic devices scattered around the room. “What’re these things?” She looked at Tessa. “Are you okay?”

Tessa looked at her. “I am fine.”

The tall woman said to Tessa, “Why did you come with this man and woman?” She used the pistol to indicate Emma and I.

Tessa said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The tall woman looked at the devices and at me. “You’ve done something to her. What?”

I had lost track of where the wand was in all the excitement. I realized that I had dropped it on the floor in front of the couch. I decided to try to stall. “I was just going to finish a business transaction with this woman. Then you burst in.” I moved my foot slowly towards the wand, but the woman noticed it and put her own foot on it first. “We’ll talk about that thing in a second...” she said.

The tall woman said to Tessa, “Do you remember who you serve...uh, work for? I work for him too.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Tessa told her.

The tall woman’s focus shifted for a second—the gun’s aim wavered.

And that’s when I jumped her. (No, not like that!)

She swung the gun back around towards me. I closed with her and batted it aside, and she fired it into the wall. It sounded like thunder in the close space of the room, and my ears rang for a moment. I landed a punch in her abdomen, which stalled her for a second, and she tried to pull the gun in, but I used my body to get in between her and the gun, then grabbed at it as she tried to pull it in to aim at me. We grappled for it for a moment, and I forced it out of her hands, but couldn’t get a good grip myself, so the pistol dropped to the floor.

Then she rolled backwards and slammed me on the floor. Stars danced around my head, but I managed to pull her down on top of me, and the fight became a wrestling match. As exciting as that might have been with someone who was just fooling around, this was much more serious. I saw her reach a hand up toward my face for an eye gouge, so I grabbed at her hand, and then suddenly I saw a chair aimed for both of our heads... Then everything went dark.

I woke up a few minutes later, based on what Emma apologetically told me. She’d aimed for the woman’s head, but we’d moved, and instead she had gotten us both. Emma had searched the unconscious woman and found handcuffs and keys, which she’d used to bind the intruding woman.

Now, with a lumpier head than before, I stood over the woman, who was handcuffed ad seated in a chair, Tessa and Emma were behind her (with Emma holding the gun). I poked her with the wand. “Wake up. I did, and it feels horrible, so you have to wake up, too.”

The woman stirred. She opened one eye. “What happened to me?” She sounded a little groggy.

“You and I were targets of dining table chair-fu. How are you doing?”

She squinted at me. “Fine. But I will not betray the one I serve.”

“The one you serve. Who is that?” I squatted down in front of her.

“Not interested.” She said no more.

“What, no witty banter?” I stood up again. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

She didn’t answer.

I pointed the wand at her and tried the entrance deal. No go. As with Tessa before, the hypnosis (or whatever the wand did—at that point, I had never used it on someone who wasn’t already enslaved by something) didn’t work. I decided that I needed to eliminate her as a threat.

I put her to sleep with the wand, then we un-cuffed her and moved her into the box as a team. I repeated the steps I had followed with Tessa, jumpering in, then severing all the strands higher up. However, this time I mentally yanked on one as I severed it. I got a brief image—a short, heavyset fellow, caucasian, bearded, brownish hair.

Pam. Her name was Pam, and she was a private investigator. She vaguely remembered working for the man I described to her, but couldn’t put a name with the image. “I just remember other women being around. And two big guys that hung out around him—bodyguards. Scary,” she said, and she shivered a little. “Sorry, master.”

“I’ve seen ’em.” I thought for a moment. “Any records of what his name was? Or what you were working on for him?”

“I don’t think so. He must have paid me in cash, because I don’t remember anything like that.” Now she thought for a moment. “He did call me several time on my cell phone. And I was looking for the relatives of some Vegas magician. Waldo something or other...”

I looked at Emma. “Waldo. Why am I not surprised. Pam, could you get your cell phone and check on your recent numbers?”

“Yes, master.” She fished in a pocket, and withdrew a cell phone, fooled with it a moment, and said, “All the numbers have been erased. I have no call records.”

“Crap. Whoever you worked for thought this out. Just in case you got taken, you must have automatically cleared your cell phone list every time you used it—in or out.” I rubbed my eyes, and looked at the clock on the cable box. The digits showed 2:25 AM.

“Okay, who’s tired? I am, I know. Let’s hit the rack.” Suddenly, I realized that I had the same problem with Tessa and Pam that I had had with Emma. “I’ll sleep out here on the...”

Emma said, “Hold on, master.” She looked at Pam and Tessa, and the three of them closed on each other and began whispering. After a few seconds they broke their huddle...

Pam leaped at me, and given the previous events, I thought that I would end up out cold on the floor again.

But she wrapped her arms around me and gave me a kiss. You know, the good kind, where she tries to strangle you by shoving her tongue into your mouth. Tessa, not to be outdone, moved behind me and embraced me from the back, rubbing her generous tits agains my back, and fondling my hardware from the rear.

Emma smirked at me and said, “I told them that you were a good master, one who valued slaves for their intelligence and initiative, one who was gentle and kind. One who should be rewarded for freeing them from a cruel master.”

They dragged me into the bedroom. No kicking or screaming was involved.

As I undressed, I realized that Tessa was first in the queue. I had not had time to don the protective garmet I was starting to open when she climbed on the bed like a tigress. A large breasted, naked tigress. “You won’t need that, master,” she said. I laid back on the bed, somewhat taken aback. She licked her lips and seized on my member, which responded immediately to her attention by removing all the blood from my brain. Within a few minutes, I was recieving the best head I had ever gotten. Tessa was working her way up and down the shaft of my penis in ways that I didn’t think were possible. Even the sensitive spots, which she managed to hit repeatedly. Her platinum hair softly brushed the insides of my thighs, increasing my arousal.

Pam and Emma watched from the side. A few times, they called out suggestions for Tessa, and she mumbled, ‘Ok, mmright.” each time. For the most part, I said nothing. I didn’t see the need to say anything. Okay, I moaned a little. Maybe a lot. And I fondled her large rack from above. Maybe mauled is a better term—more accurate.

When I came, Tessa sucked down every bit, and sucked on my member to pull more out (it seemed). I was exhausted by the event.

When my eyes had unrolled in their sockets, I saw that Tessa was now off the bed, and Pam stood next to it. She removed her clothes and shoved me down on the bed, then climbed in next to me.

“I’m not sure that any specific part of my body is up to more sex right now,” I told her.

“You will be, master.” She then proceeded to massage my balls and cock gently for about fifteen minutes. “Something I learned in Japan when I was in the Army,” she told me.

Soon, to my amazement, I was erect again. I quickly put on the prophylactic I mentioned before, and she slid over on top of me, then I put my penis into her. She began to ride up and down on my dick. I did very little of the work, but she seemed to be enjoying it anyway (she was a screamer), and my God did she have strong legs (they were wrapped around my legs at times, and around my hips at others—I think I still have the bruises, now).

We’d only been at it a few minutes when I came again, and Pam came also (based on her gasps and moans). Pam kissed me and slid off me, and all four of us ended up on the bed. I kissed Emma and said, “Thank you, Emma.”

She responded, “Master, you’re welcome.”

And we all slid into unconsciousness.

The next morning, I was the first one up, which was related to an attempt to poke out my eye with one of Pam’s elbows. (It’s almost like she’s still out to do me in sometimes.) I pulled on some shorts and a shirt, then left the bedroom (with its three sleeping beauties) and walked to the kitchen. In the front room, I could see the bullet hole in the wall from Pam’s attempt to kill me. “I’ll have to fix that,” I said to my self, and I laughed a little. I wondered why none of my neighbors had called the cops—it must have been audible to them.

I made coffee, and walked into the front room to look at the box. Why was it important? I opened the box, and began to take out all the items. They were the same as they had been before, and none of them struck me as particularly magical, in the way that the original items that Waldo had given me (somehow—I still have not figured out how that worked, yet) seemed to be.

But then I got an odd feeling about a specific area of the trunk. It was on one side, under the liner, near a hinge.

I felt the area, then realized that there was something under the liner there. Something paper-y. I looked at the construction of the trunk, and saw that a few screws would release a band that seemed to hold the liner in place.

A short time later, I had the band’s screws removed and the band off, and had peeled back the liner. A plain yellow envelope, of the eight-and-a-half by eleven style, was taped into the trunk’s wall. I removed the envelope and felt it. Something crinkled inside it, but it was hard underneath the crinkley stuff—a piece of stiff cardboard or something like that. And the feeling that I was handling something of the calibre of the other magic items grew stronger.

I sat down on the couch, opened the envelope, and removed the stiff item. It was wrapped in tissue paper, which I carefully unwrapped and set aside. It looked like a large playing card, maybe 50 percent larger than a regulation playing card—I was looking at the back side, decorated with a swirling blue mist on a black background, so I flipped it over.

A beautiful, dusky skinned, dark haired woman looked out at me. The card’s front was less than a photograph, but more than a painting, sort of like those 3D computer images—it seemed like a real person, somehow trapped on the card. She wore some sort of light renaissance-era armor, and bore a crossbow slung over her back. In her right hand was a light sword of some sort, teamed with a long dagger of some sort in her left, both held out in a ready stance. She seemed to be of medium height, and pretty well put together. The armor conformed to her curves appealingly (in a complete way—closed all around and not in that silly Xena way, where anything that strikes the armor above the waist is guided to a critical spot in the center of the chest, which just so happens to be unarmored, like the tops of the lungs and the shoulders are also unarmored).

On the top right and bottom left of the card were matching symbols—ten of swords, and I remembered from some source, swords were a suit in a tarot deck.

Great—a sexy, threatening tarot card. More weirdness.

Emma was the next one up. She emerged from the bedroom and walked to me, smiling slightly. “Good morning, master. I see you’ve been busy.”

I had put the trunk back together, and replaced the non-magical stuff in it. “A little.” I held up the card, showing her both sides. “Ever see this before?”

Emma came over and sat down. “No, master. It looks like one of the big cards that some magicians use for tricks. And it’s a tarot card. But I have never seen it before. Do you think it was Waldo’s?”

I laid the card back down. “If it was, why would it be in the trunk? Why did it just not show up with the other items?” I pulled her towards me, and said, “And you...” We kissed, and my hands wandered down her body. She responded by moving her hands under my shirt. I stood up, pulling her up with me, and we moved into the kitchen. I guided her up on the island and then (after some appropriate actions—Look, believe me when I say that I’m not really interested in having kids right now, so just assume that I take precautions beforehand.) I entered her.

She wrapped her legs around me and I began to thrust into her. She matched my motions in a limited way, due to being seated on the island. However, she clung to me tightly, and worked her way around my face with her lips. I shifted to long, slow, thrusts, and I was rewarded with aroused moans from Emma. She came first, with me right behind her, and she began to give me a series of kisses.

Abruptly, she stopped, and I remembered Waldo’s programming.

Emma sat on the island, eyes closed.

I didn’t have to think at all. “Waldo, do you have an enemy of some sort that can control other people somehow?”

Emma opened her eyes and responded in the way she imitated Waldo. “I can’t answer that. Ask me another question.”

“Okay,” I said. “What about the tarot card with the woman on it?”

“I can’t answer that. Ask me another question.”

“Gosh darnit! Emma, help me out, will you?”

Emma blinked, and said, “Ask me about the cane. That’s one.”

Well, this is something new. I thought to myself as I put my hands on my hips. “Tell me about the cane.”

Emma blinked again. “The cane can be used to dull the senses of onlookers. I used it when I as doing some tricks that involved more misdirection than magic. You hold it in you hand and think about fog or smoke or something like that. People viewing you will not really remember very much about what they see for the next two or three minutes. The crystal at the top glows while the magic operates. That’s two.”

“Can the wand and the cane work together?”

Emma replied, “Not that I know of, but I’ve never tried it. Not much of an answer—sorry about that. That’s three.”

Sigh. And thus another exciting question and answer session ends.

I decided to call a strategy session. Whoever was enslaving women also was interested in Waldo’s things, and by association, me—us, actually. And that person had some sort of power that was a threat to us, and was willing to use it. So we sat around the kitchen table, pooling our information.

Leaning forward in my chair, I said, “So, we know that whoever this is, he’s aware that Waldo had something of interest that may have been passed on to someone. I have a general idea of what he looks like.”

Pam was sitting in a reversed chair, head and arms propped on the back, looking at me. “We know he’s a show business type, master. Maybe Vegas”

Tessa sat in her chair with her elbows on the table, head resting on her raised palms. “Master, he does magic. Or hypnotism.” She paused, and then said, “Well, duh! Hypnotism.” She shook her head.

I looked at Pam. “We could search the internet for Vegas hypnotism acts. Look for images of the performer? I got a bit of an image of him when I cut you loose.”

She nodded. “I’ll do that master.” She looked at the computer on the desk in the corner. “May I use your computer?”

“You bet. Maybe we can get a leg up on this guy.” I picked up the tarot card with the female fighter on it. “While we’re at it, let’s look something else up...”

Pam had found an article in the Times, written by Donna Markham, that detailed the hypnotism act of a “Johann Kensington”, with an accompanying photo. Short, chunky, bearded, caucasian—and the guy I’d seen. A wanna-be Orson Welles. The article was a favorable review of his performance in a club here in LA, but a quick call to the club got us the information that Mr. Kensington was not currently engaged there. A call to the paper proved that Donna Markham was out, but a message was promised to be left for her. A little more online research led to this guy’s new act at the Majestic in Vegas. He was starting this weekend!

“Ladies, we’re going to Sin City! The real one, not the one in that movie. Everyone will need clothes, so let’s just hit the store and get some.”

Tessa and Emma sighed happily. “Home!” they said in unison, then laughed.

Pam scowled. “It’s full of lowlifes. I’ll need my nine mil...” She stopped, and looked at the hole in the wall she had generated last night. “Oh, sorry, master. Could I please have my gun back? I promise not to shoot at you again.”

I opened a drawer and pulled out my own nine millimeter pistol in a belt holster. “Well, if you do, I’ll shoot back this time.”

Pam laughed and came to me. She planted a big kiss on my lips. Bumped my nose pretty hard in the process.

We found nothing about the tarot card from our fast research. I looked closer at the card, and at its back, as the girls were in the process of packing. There was some writing on the back side, but I couldn’t quite read it. But I had an idea how to...

The wand was lying innocently on a table. I picked it up, and held it up to the card, and tapped it.

The words suddenly became clearer. They read, “Call me forth to protect you. Bid me return when I am done.”

I flipped the card over. The woman on the front was unchanged. I cleared my throat, and said, “I call you forth.”

The card suddenly started to change in my hand. I dropped it on the floor, and it folded up like a little origami person. Suddenly, the little paper person grew to a full size person, gaining thickness and coloration. The woman from the card appeared before me, swords out and aimed at me!

She suddenly sheathed her swords and knelt before me, head down, hair before her face. “My lord, I am at your service. From whom do you need protection?”

Kensington watched his slave from a private booth in the hotel’s lounge as she obtained a penthouse room for him. Soon Rebecca had returned to the table. “Master, I have one of the penthouse suites—2502—in your name, compliments of the hotel. She looked sidelong at the manager, still standing in the entrance to the lounge, then sat in the round booth at Kensington’s right side. “I believe that the manager is quite upset with me, however.”

“Never mind that, slave,” Kensington said. “Now, you were also to arrange for two of your most attractive dancers to meet me here.”

Rebecca nodded. “They are coming from their show, master.”

Kensington looked back at the two standing toughs and Sally (seated on his left), “Take our bags to the room. Sally, lay out my clothing and prepare it as I have told you.”

Sally rose and said, “I will, master.” With that, the toughs and Sally left.

Kensington realized that he’d had the toughs out for almost twenty-four hours. Soon he’d have to return the two toughs to their normal state so that they could, as he thought of it, recharge. A few hours later, he could bring them forth again to protect him.

Oh, well. He returned his attention to Rebecca, sliding his right hand along the seat until it rested next to her leg.

Rebecca flinched slightly at the contact, and then sighed slightly, eyes temporarily reduced to slits. “Ohh, master.”

He continued to slide his hand up and over her leg, then under her skirt and up towards the groin. As he did, Rebecca moaned slightly, and squirmed under his touch. He reached her pubic mound and began to slowly stroke it, and Rebecca closed her eyes and moaned a little louder.

“Not too loud, slave. We don’t want to alert the others here.” Kensington continued to rub Rebecca erotically.

As he did, two leggy women walked to the table—a stacked blonde and a thinner, but enhanced looking redhead, both dressed in casual clothes. They looked at Kensington and Rebecca, and the blonde said, “Miss White? You wanted to see us?”

Kensington surveyed the crowd, then pulled the watch out of his pocket with his left hand, and just far enough above the table for the women to see. It spun slightly, and started to glow. “Please be seated ladies—one on each side of the booth. Tell me your first names.”

The two women suddenly acquired vacant looks and sat down in the booth. The redhead next to Kensington said, “My name is Kaitlin.” The blonde on the other side said, “My name is Monica.”

Kensington raised the watch a little, and said, “Monica, why don’t you rest, eyes open and sitting up, but otherwise asleep, until I tell you to awaken.”

Monica’s head bobbled a little, and she stared blankly off into space.

He lowered the watch so that only Kaitlin could see it, and turned to her. The watch started spinning and glowing, and Kensington said softly, “Kaitlin, look at the watch. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep and listen. Sleep and listen and obey. Obey.” Repeating the instructions, he watched as the magic item worked its spell on her. Soon the redhead was deeply entranced.

“Kaitin, you are my slave. Say it,” he said softly.

She replied sleepily, “I am your slave.”

“You will obey my every command. Say it.”

“I will obey your every command.”

As Kensington continued to enslave Kaitlin, his right hand had worked it’s way inside Rebecca’s pantyhose and into her vagina. He massaged her walls for a moment, then switched to the clitoris, and all the while Rebecca was moaning softly and squirming oh-so-slightly in the seat. Kensington’s attention drifted to the blonde. “You are next, my lovely.”

His cell phone buzzed, but he ignored it. One hand was in Rebecca, the other holding the watch that was enslaving Kaitlin. He’d check it later.

Donna Markham scratched her head. Someone had called about the master and left her a message. She checked the number, and then reverse ID’ed it. Randall Wilson. Why did that sound familliar? Then she remembered—the man the master was looking for the relatives of was named Waldo Wilson. A common name, but still...

She tried her master’s cell number, but it just rang and rang.