The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The little orphanage at Whitewater Crossing was frequently a happy place, but a harsh place to grow up in. The Infaesion had claimed far too many lives. Witches, succubi, and other creatures too terrible to imagine stalked the far side of the water. Meanwhile, frontier children were expected to earn their keep. Sister Gretchen squirreled away most of the profits from the orphanage farm, and these she doled out in meager stipends to occasional “graduates.” It was all well and good for children to muck around on a farm, but adults were bound by royal decree to marry and produce children.

And now it was Bo’s turn. Throwing his bindle stick over his shoulder, he thanked Sister Gretchen for her years of kindness, hugged his younger “siblings,” and set out on his 18th birthday to make his fortune. He’d never seen much of the outside world—just the hat shop across the river, where he’d once lived with his mother—but he knew that the old nun had tried to shelter him from the worst of the war. Once a prosperous hamlet, Whitewater Crossing had seen trade dry up as the Fae overran villages east of the water.

Plenty of refugees had drifted through town over the years, always going west, and never in the mood to talk about the horrors and seductions they’d witnessed along the way. Bo couldn’t help wondering about the war, but it was bad luck even to think of the Fae, or so people said.

When it was time for Bo to leave, he went west, as the refugees had, along the King’s Road. “You’ll be safe on the road,” Sister Gretchen had told him, “but whatever you do, don’t leave it. Fae despise the straight, and the mechanical, as you well know.”

She had written him a letter of introduction to a royal wedding officer in Newton. Bo had no money to speak of, and certainly no connections in Newton, but Sister Gretchen had assured him that the crown offered ample work and housing for newlyweds: Breeders were highly esteemed in wartime. There had been girls at the orphanage, too, of course, but none of marriageable age, and they all felt more like sisters than potential romantic interests. Even Emi, who used to jump on his back and tickle him.

But that was all in the past. Bo was off to find a wife! Not a girl like Emi, but a woman! A beautiful, mature woman, with full breasts and smoldering eyes…. He fantasized as he walked.

The road had once been well-kept, but these days it was seldom used—even by the King’s rangers, let alone his engineers. Now, small trees grew up between the stones, and moss spread along the shaded banks. Bo had hoped to reach Newton before dark, but he quickly passed his shadow as the afternoon wore on. The setting sun shone blindingly down the straight-hewn highway, and conspired with the uneven road to keep Bo’s eyes cast downward as dusk descended.

He was surprised, then, when he walked directly into the back of an ox cart, dropping his bindle and spilling potatoes into the road.

“Oof,” he said, jolted out of his daydreaming.

“Oh! Look out!” said the driver, a young woman who had stopped to spread her dinner in the empty bed. “Are you OK?”

“Fine,” he said. “What are you…. Where….” Bo trailed off as he stooped to re-gather his belongings.

The woman finished the question Bo had begun to ask before he could manage to form the words. “Are you headed to Newton, then?” she asked.

Bo glanced up, but caught himself almost immediately. It hadn’t even occurred to him until now that the woman might be Fae, and he felt guilty for letting his guard down. Sister Gretchen had promised him he’d be safe along the road, though, and once Bo had summoned the courage to look up, he was relieved by the sight of the driver. The woman had an ordinary face, with big blue eyes, and curly blonde hair tucked into a wimple. She was pretty, but not devastatingly beautiful. Definitely not a succubus.

He laughed with relief. “Might be the last real town left out here,” he said.

She laughed, too. “By the way, my name is Allie.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Allie,” Bo said. “I’m Bo.” And since it emerged that Bo was a young orphan who had just spilled his entire dinner and inheritance down the highway, Allie invited him to share her more conventional meal.

“It’s not much, but nobody has much these days,” she observed, with sadness in her voice, “especially since so many men have been taken by the war.”

They shared a friendly conversation—weather and potatoes and favorite songs—and Allie didn’t act much like a bandit, so Bo showed her the letter and the three silver coins that Sister Gretchen had given him for a suit of wedding clothes.

Allie nodded at the letter, but frowned at the tarnished coins. “I’m afraid three pieces of silver isn’t going to buy so much as a button-down in Newton these days,” she said. “Don’t you make your own clothes in Whitewater?”

Bo looked down at himself, clad in the tatters of a rural farmhand and never more aware of it in his life than he was at this particular moment. “Of course,” he said. “but hardly fit for a wedding. The most desperate, horrible woman in the world wouldn’t marry me in this.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” Allie said. “I’m pretty handy with a needle and thread. I should say, I’m actually a professional dressmaker. When you ran into me, I was just on my way back from some deliveries.”

Bo laughed, but felt suddenly nervous. “You must think I was born yesterday,” he said. “I just showed you my money, and now you’re a seamstress?” He glanced meaningfully down at her brown, stained riding dress.

“No, really! I swear I’m not lying!” Allie insisted, reaching out to his face and turning him to see the rear of the cart. She drew back a waxcloth sheet, and even in the dusk, Bo could see several parcels of fine clothing neatly done up in twine. Allie’s hand felt cool, almost wet in the evening air, and he felt his skepticism fade under her touch. So nice.

“Come along to my shop, and I’ll get you measured for a new suit,” she said, with an air of assurance. “I’ll do it cheaper than any of the tailors in town. The measuring is free, and if you find a better offer, you don’t have to come back. You won’t make it to Newton tonight, anyway, so you ought to feel lucky that you met me.”

Bo hemmed and hawed, but Allie insisted, “Look at the sky! It’s practically nighttime! Frankly, you don’t have much of a choice at this point. I won’t have a strange man in the house, but you can sleep in the stable with Foxy here.” She nodded to her ox.

Bo couldn’t help but laugh. “Foxy the oxy?”

“Foxier than your future wife, anyway, if you show up dressed like that.”

So, Bo agreed to Allie’s proposal, and they set off down the road together. Almost immediately, however, Allie pulled the cart off the road and into the brush, and Bo couldn’t help remembering Sister Gretchen’s warning: Stay on the road. Whatever you do, don’t leave it. He opened his mouth to protest, but Allie immediately wrapped an arm around his waist.

“Careful now,” she warned him. “It’s going to get a little bumpy. He felt one of her cool, wet fingers resting gently against his neck as the cart bumped over rocks and tree roots. Her fingers are so long, and sticky. Sticky? They seemed to massage him, and it felt very good. He relaxed. The light faded as they left the edge of the forest behind, and Bo didn’t even realize he’d fallen asleep.

Suddenly, the cart stopped, and Bo would have pitched right off the front of bench if Allie hadn’t been holding him. “Come on in, sleepyhead,” Allie said. “You ought to be well rested, so I’ll take your measurements, and you can be gone at first light tomorrow.”

The interior of the small cottage was difficult to make out in the dark, but Allie instructed Bo to light a fire while she unloaded the cart. He gathered kindling from a small box, struck flint with steel, and quickly filled the hut with a warm, flickering illumination. He looked up, proud of his handiwork, and for the blink of an eye, it seemed to Bo that the hut’s furnishings were dusty, the shelves empty, the straw mattress unmade—but Allie came up behind him and slipped her cool hands over his shoulders.

“Relax,” she said, kneading him softly in the firelight. “You seem so tense.” She gently turned him around, and her blue eyes were shone in the dark. She’s so much more beautiful than she was before, Bo thought. Then, What an odd thought! Allie squeezed his shoulder again, and the feelings inside him seemed to shift. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Bo thought.

“Stand up straight. Spread your arms, dear.” She reached around Bo’s back and ran her hand from what wrist to another along his shoulders. Doesn’t she need measuring tape? She was so close that he could feel her breathing on his neck. She smelled like cinnamon and honey, though he knew she hadn’t taken a bath. He took a deep breath.

“Very good,” she said. “But you really have to relax and trust me.” He could feel her fingers reaching down the back of his tunic. They were cool and wet, and seemed to cling to his skin.

Her fingers are very long. “You have very long fingers,” he said.

“Yes,” Allie replied, her blue eyes boring into him, seeming to swirl and spiral. “They’re very beautiful.”

“They’re very beautiful,” he agreed, his arms still outstretched. Wait, what did she say?

Much to his surprise, she kissed him on the cheek then, and moved around behind him. She moved forward and wrapped her arms around him. She squeezed him with her hands. “Yes, you’re just the right size.” He felt something warm and wet slide across his neck. His vision went white as she caressed and kneaded him.

“You’re very lucky that you ran into me, my husband.” Husband? That couldn’t be…. Then he moaned out loud as her tongue slid up behind his ear, and her cool wet hands slipped down, into his tunic and pants. He felt her hot breath on his neck, and again he smelled that honey and cinnamon smell.

“I’m the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen,” said Allie, licking him again.

“Beautiful,” he groaned. So beautiful.

“You’re deeply in love with me,” she said, playing with his nipple, slipping her other hand around his cock.

“In love.” He thought his heart would burst.

“We’re going to get married and have lots and lots of children.” Allie’s fingers and tongue were everywhere. It felt like she was molding his thoughts, training him, making it impossible to question….

“Carry me to bed, sweetie,” she instructed him, wrapping herself around him, and his body moved on its own. She climbed on top and unbuttoned her dress. “You want to suck on my nipples, don’t you?” She brushed his hair out of his eyes with a long, soft, wet finger. He cried out with need. She pressed her pale, wet breasts against his face. Then she pulled back and licked his face again, from beneath his chin, across his nose and one eye. Bo’s vision exploded with ecstasy as she held his face in her hands. “Look me in the eyes.” Her blue eyes seemed to glow and grow, and ripple, sucking him in. “You’re mine forever. You belong to me. Say it.”

Yours forever, he thought.

“You’ll never love anyone else.

I’ll never love anyone else.

You’re my husband, my toy.

Your toy.

Say, ‘I love you, my wife.’”

I love you, my wife.

Allie’s eyes sucked him in. Then felt her tongue in his mouth. Licking his lips. His cheeks. His eyes. “It feels so good to give me what I want.”

Feels so good.

“Give me everything.”

Suddenly, he felt Allie’s beautiful legs, her eight soft, sticky, inescapable legs clench around him, and his cock was swallowed by something cool and wet that squeezed and sucked him into its folds. It was the most wonderful feeling Bo had ever imagined. He wanted to give Allie all his thoughts, all his memories, his whole identity. The orphanage, Sister Gretchen, the farm, Emi…. Allie’s perfect pussy sucked on him again, and took it all away, like a painting torn out of a frame. I am, I am…. he thought, Who am I?

And then she fell forward and embraced him. Her wonderful hair fell into his eyes, and her amazing tongue crawled into his ear, and she licked him. I’m yours. The seamstress…. She licked him again. No, my wife. My beautiful wife. I love her more than anything. She licked his neck. We’ll be together forever. She licked his lips. I would do anything for my wife. Allie sucked and licked.

I belong to her.

When Bo finally woke up, the morning sun was shining through the windows, and his wife’s long legs were wrapped so tightly around him that he couldn’t move.

“Good morning, dear,” he said.

She yawned. “Good morning, honey…. I slept so hard last night.”

Bo laughed. “You must have been worn out.”

She grabbed his cock with one of her long, soft fingers, and it stiffened immediately. “I guess it’s time to do your duty for the kingdom again.” He moaned, and she licked his neck.