The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The calm quiet of the night might have surprised those who were not used to it. Even in the heart of the city, the elevation of the rooftops offered a certain peace unavailable to those who remained at street level. For the most part, all that passed here were vermin, of either furry or winged variety, each feeding on the other. Yet the peace this night was broken by an intruder, running and jumping from rooftop to rooftop, movements visible only when silhouetted by the moon. Despite this, and despite the incredible speed at which it moved, it was being chased, and its chaser was gaining ground.

There was panting, but it had little to do with exertion. The intruder had run farther and faster before. Yet it was not accustomed to what was happening, or the feelings it was experiencing. For Damien Lockard, fear had always been something that happened to other people.

It had been a pleasant enough evening. Only five days recently he’d had a feast of blood, first that of the whore, Mara, and then of her pimp, the fat Tony who had died screaming deliciously. After that he had returned to Sparro’s apartments only to find the old Mashiekeh gone on business, without leaving orders other than to leave the domestics alone. After two days of blissful sloth, avoiding Sparro’s apprentice wherever possible, Damien had decided to go on the hunt again, ready for more.

Things had seemed to be going so well; a beautiful girl alone at night, the perfect opportunity for a strike, only to have her strike back with a speed and manner that he had never encountered in a human before. Hunters were well known among the Nosferatu, but rare enough that Damien had hoped never to meet one.

As he crossed a flat rooftop some forty stories above Main Street, he realized with yet another twinge of fear that he could hear her breathing behind him. She was breathing hard, but in smooth, controlled breaths that told of concentration and unbelievable endurance. Damien snarled between gasps, realizing he couldn’t outrun her. With an act of desperation, he turned to fight. Hunters were not invincible, just the next thing to it. He lashed out with his claws, hoping to catch a blink in which to bite her.

He never saw the blow that landed. One moment he was slashing at her face, the next he was crashing through a skylight into an abandoned penthouse. The sharp pain in his chest told him what had happened... the stake had not penetrated his heart, yet. He was aware through the pain of her dropping through the skylight.

“Not bad for a dead vampire. Would’ve been smarter to run, though. Don’t worry, your pain is about to end...” There was a predatory look in her eye as she reached to drive the stake through...

“Stop.” All movement ceased as if cut off by a switch. Damien couldn’t remember ever being happy to hear that voice before. “I’m afraid I cannot permit you to proceed, my dear, though it is a terrible wretch to disturb the work of such a professional. Now, remove the stake from his chest and leave it at his side, then step away. Quickly now.”

The look of surprise and fear shone clear on her pretty face as she obeyed. Damien sighed as he felt his chest begin to reknit. He hadn’t liked dying the first time, and doubted that the repeat would be any more enjoyable. Carefully he stood up, watching her warily. “My thanks, Sparro. May I finish her?”

“Finish her? My dear Damien, she has not yet even begun. Now stay still and be quiet.”

Damien found his earlier gratitude receding in a hurry, but of course obeyed immediately. The Hunter had taken the moment to compose herself as well as she was able, and looked Sparro in the eye. “I don’t know who or what you are, but if I were you, I would kill me quickly and get it over with.”

“Oh?” Sparro looked amused, though barely. Damien had seen this sort of thing before, and Sparro seemed somewhat preoccupied. “I suppose that if you represent so great a threat to me the truth would be on your side. But I know something you do not. You represent no threat to me whatsoever.”

She spat at him in anger. “I’ll have you know that I have slain more of...”

Sparro cut her off with a wave, full of impatience. “Yes, you doubtlessly have collected the teeth of thousands of Nosferatu. Perhaps you are even the equal of Belmont Graves, England, 1745. Not a bad chap at all, as it turned out. But he possessed no more threat to me than you do now. For instance...” he snapped his fingers. “I free you. Attack, if you like.”

At that moment her muscles slackened, as though invisible bindings had been cut. Instantly she lashed out at him, in a single acrobatic movement gaining the stake from the ground and driving it towards Sparro’s heart.

“Freeze.” She froze, the point slightly indenting the red tie Sparro was wearing. He smiled. “Had your blow struck, we would still be having this conversation, but I could not see the point in ruining such a fine suit, could you?” She began to answer, but he waved her to silence. “I was speaking rhetorically. In any event, I have pressing issues and deeds that need to be accomplished. For now, consider my point made. You will accompany us, now. You will come along quietly and alert none of your, ah, allies to what is happening to you.”

The look of shock that covered her face as the orders settled in left Damien with a brief satisfaction. Sparro smiled. “It’s good to get that done with. Now, for the proper introductions. As you heard my associate here say, I am Sparro. And what is your name?”

The look of shock only increased as she answered promptly. “Michelle...”

“Excellent. You’ll do well, I think.” Sparro turned to Damien. “My car is waiting at the corner of Fifth and Piedmont. Be a good lad and bring it here. I’ll have a nice chat with Michelle while you do.”

Damien nodded curtly and turned on heel. While he was grateful for his continued existence, it was somewhat ominous that Sparro was taking the time to tame a Hunter.

Sparro had never been the contemplative type. Such introspection did not go well with immortality; there was little joy to be gained from eternity if one spent it insane. Yet now, in this particular moment, he couldn’t help himself as he sat back, barely even aware of the scene before him. For a moment, he allowed himself to close his eyes and remember rage.

He had tasted rage before, of course, but even for a Mashiekeh it could be a difficult thing to produce in another. It had been almost a century since he had been provoked to show any temper at all. But now, rage... three times in the space of twenty-four hours. Not fed on in another, but his own.

Gustav, of course, was fully capable of driving anyone to distraction, but at a threat to Sparro’s property the emotion had come practically out of nowhere. It was curious, to be sure. Cheri was neither Sparro’s only or his best. Yet she was his, and nobody, not even Gustav, could threaten Sparro’s property. Sparro had accepted it for what it was, dealt with it coolly, and calmly, allowing himself to revel in his own emotion before it faded.

Then, rebellion. Mashiekeh, of course, were never particularly good at obeying anyone, but Kyle had risen so fast. Scarcely more than a week before he had been human, helpless before Sparro as any other. Such strength was to be marveled at, at least in other circumstances. In such proximity to earlier outbursts, however, the rage had returned... stronger than before. Sparro had actually considered driving his own apprentice into the likeness of death, had almost succeeded. Strong or no, Kyle had not known what he was doing, even if his instincts had served him well. Then, pain and blackness.

He had awoken surrounded by shards of an ancient Ming vase and all his domestics but two, Mara restricted to her room as usual and Angelica, his prize, gone. None of the others had witnessed what exactly had happened, but all had watched her dress in street clothes and leave under orders from Kyle.

It had gathered like a storm, shock, pride and anger into a rage that eclipsed any he had felt before in centuries. It had been delicious, even if quite some time had been required before he trusted himself to instruct his domestics. Now, it was gone, and he missed it. Well, he would be seeking out his rebellious apprentice, and had the feeling that another meeting with Kyle would be just what he needed to bring the rage back.

Of course, finding a Mashiekeh who did not want to be found could be difficult. The act of simply removing oneself from the memory of another left little residue to trace. It was clear that a professional would be required, one with certain... affinities... that Sparro himself lacked. A simple anonymous call, Damien led out as bait, it had been simple.

A wave of pleasure mixed with a very deep revulsion hit him, and he drank deeply from it. No point in missing out on the possibilities and ironies of the situation, but it was time to get down to business.

The sounds of somewhat impassioned lovemaking, grunts, moans, and, ah yes, protests had reached a crescendo where things were finally getting interesting. It took an act of willpower to stop, but Sparro had never had any lack of will. “That’s enough for now, my loves.”

The two could not have been more different in some ways, or more alike in others. Before her transformation, Mara had been an aging whore, her once radiant looks dimmed by age, beauty gone slightly to seed. Vampirism had changed her for the better. There were no longer wrinkles to be seen, or weaknesses. Her skin had gone pale quite quickly, of course, but that only made her black hair and crimson lips (all without the need of coloring) that much more striking. Her leathers had been abandoned in favor of black lace supporting all while concealing nothing, the milky skin beneath showing through clearly. Her endurance had gained marvelously as well... Sparro was sure her deep breathing was not caused by exertion.

On the other side was Michelle. California had done its job well with her, sun-bleached hair, finely tanned skin, beautifully formed breasts, and the sharp blue eyes that would scream out, “Hunter!” to anyone who knew what to look for. Michelle had no problem with endurance either, but then again, Sparro had made her work harder. Her breathing (laced with the occasional sob) was more ragged than Mara’s. There was something quite alluring about the sheen of sweat that covered her... something Mara was no longer capable of. It sparkled in the star-like light of Mara’s room and the artist in Sparro was gratified.

Girl-on-girl was common enough in Sparro’s apartments... he rarely cared enough to engage physically in the acts anymore. That Kyle still did so was a sign of his youth, and Sparro tolerated it with the same air as a parent who watches their child eat fine food with their fingers. Despite all of this, however, the potential of Vampire-on-Hunter was nearly irresistible. On his commands they had obeyed, of course, and performed to their limits, yet all was underlined with the nervousness and hunger of Mara, or the fear and revulsion from Michelle. Exquisite.

Shaking his head to clear it, Sparro got on with business. “You have done well, Mara. Leave us. Inform Nicola that she is to let you drink from her neck, three swallows, no more.”

Mara pulled herself quickly from the mattress, knelt with her face to the floor, then prowled out of the room to look for her promised snack. No one could prowl like a Vampiress in lace. Smiling as she left, Sparro turned his attention to Michelle, who had finally gathered some of her wits from the post-coital fatigue.

“W-w-who are you?”

Sparro considered her, then sat. “I am your new employer, Michelle, and my terms are simple. You have seen, here tonight, that your will is no match for mine. At any time I could have let Mara kill you, or perhaps turn you. I didn’t, and with reason. If you wish to remain human, and perhaps someday regain what freedom you had, you will follow my instructions to the letter.”

He took a moment to sit on the bed beside her, idly letting his hand examine her curves. Her response was inevitable... centuries of experience had taught him exactly how to touch a woman... and lowered her remarkable defenses a bit more.

“There is another like me, younger, but with comparable powers. He has stolen from me, and I wish to know his whereabouts. Your... sense... shall we say, can be attuned to feel those like me with training. Can you sense me here? Answer truthfully.”

She nodded, her expression seeming shy, of all things. “You... you’re not a vampire, you’re...”

“Something else. Yes. Could you recognize this again? Could you track it?”

Another nod. “Now that I know what to look for, but why do you...”

“I need you because of this sense of yours. You are to be my bloodhound. I’ll remind you, however, that bloodhounds do not bring the prey down. You will track, and stay out of his notice, if you can. If he becomes aware of you, he could handle you as easily as I have tonight. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

Sparro beamed. “Ah, proper respect! Maybe there is hope for you after all. Perhaps later... no, I’ll keep my word. Bring me the information I require, and I will return you to your old life. If you’d like, I’ll even erase this,” he touched her sopping sex with a single finger, eliciting a gasp, “...from your memory. If you’d like. Your clothes are in that closet. Now go hunt. And enjoy it!”

The Kings were on vacation, and didn’t care who knew it. Their big trailer was the sort that almost, but not quite, required a serious truck to pull... their Blazer was barely up to the task, particularly where mountains were involved, but ultimately it served. They were written off as the typical tourist, forgotten soon by any local populations.

Had any attempted to pay any kind of attention, however, they might have noticed some strange things. Like how the whole family rode in the Blazer, despite the tight fit. They were also always staying in motels. It was as though the trailer had simply been for show. They never went in it except to store their food, which was also odd... considering how often they ate in restaurants.

The windows were shuttered, as always, but Kyle risked a peek through. The mountains were past, finally, and California wouldn’t be too much farther on. This arrangement had worked well, but it couldn’t last much longer. It had been six days since he had left Sparro’s apartment, Angelica in tow.

The sounds in the trailer were muted, as always when the Kings weren’t moving. The trailer had to be empty... in the minds of any who saw it, including the Kings. The arrangement was the best for them, though they weren’t even aware of it. The trouble had been using his powers only when absolutely necessary, and so the fewer memories he had to wipe, the better.

Still, not all sound could be stilled entirely. Angelica was cleaning up after their lunch, as well as she could when all the water she could use was already in the sink. Andrea and Allie were both practicing Yoga, smoothly, quietly. They had insisted on exercise (“Only so our bodies can please you, master,” Allie had explained regretfully) and this was what he had decided to allow.

The one he couldn’t hear, but could always feel, was Marlena, laying back on the bed and staring at the ceiling. At least she wasn’t staring at him, eyes filled with uncertainty, fear, but worst of all, hurt. He didn’t know if he’d ever wanted her to know about Allie and Andrea, but he certainly hadn’t wanted her to find out this way.

She had handled it remarkably well at first. He had told her that they needed to go and soon, and she had done it. Her brave face hadn’t hidden her fear from him, of course, but her courage had been reassuring. Then had come the inevitable introductions. Angelica, properly dressed, wasn’t too difficult, but arriving at Allie and Andrea’s had been a shock. He hadn’t dared leave her in the car and then...

Well, that was past. It had to be past, there wasn’t any other choice. He would make it up to her when he could. Now, they had to disappear. He wasn’t sure what Sparro could do to find them. But somehow, somehow, he was going to make her safe.

“Master?” Kyle flinched. He had asked Allie to call him Kyle again, but she often forgot. Marlena’s head turned slightly, an eye open. Watching... always watching.

He sighed. “Yes?”

“How are we to sleep tonight? Mistress and I could prepare for...”

“No.” Best to cut her off... her ideas could sound really good at times. “We will sleep the same way we have all trip.” Marlena and Angelica on one bed, Andrea on the other with Allie sleeping at her feet, Kyle on the couch. He shook his head, wondering what Sparro would think. Still, it was no less than what he deserved, for getting them into this.

Allie pouted until Andrea joined her. “Enough, Allie. Master has commanded. Obey.” Allie quickly cleared her expression and kneeled next to Andrea. Kyle had to admit; Andrea did the dominatrix thing quite well.

“You must forgive her, Master. We are not used to going so long without, and we do not really understand the reasons now... but we will obey, of course.” Someday, he was going to ask her how she managed to be a passive-aggressive dominatrix. It had to be a knack.

When Andrea and Allie had returned to their exercises, Kyle sat down and sighed. He needed rest... and would rest as soon as they started moving again. Finally, he heard the bustle of the King family getting into the Bronco. As soon as they were on the interstate, he was fast asleep.

As far as afternoons went, this particular one wasn’t bad at all. The heat of the day was beginning to settle into the cool of the evening, and the sun began dipping back to the horizon, casting interesting shadows. The landscape along both sides of the interstate were a powerful green, with a blue sky overhead so intense that it seemed summer was determined to be just a bit more beautiful before giving way to autumn. Everyone who was outside to enjoy it did. Most enjoyed it of their free will, however.

Michelle was not the sappy type, given to reveling in good weather. Her line of work typically necessitated numerous night shifts, and the need to survive often required an intensity that precluded any gratuitous enjoyment. She was enjoying herself now, though. She had been ordered to.

The past two days had been a daze, much like this one. She had spent hours patrolling, searching for the scent, and then catching it had only waited long enough to fill her BMW with gas. The trail was heading west, and was very faint. Whoever this was, he was making a chase of it, doing little out of the ordinary and moving quickly. She might have given up, if not for...

Images flashed across her mind. Vampire overload, an explosion of her special senses; a vampire so close that she was probably about to die. Close enough to bite or to... lick me, fuck me, feel me, use me, must enjoy it, must love it, have to have more of it more of her now now now now now now...

Michelle barely got a hold of herself before driving off the road. That was over, done with. It had been two days ago, a nightmare she could forget as soon as she found whatever it was who was looking for her. She would find him, it, whatever, and report to Sparro.

Sparro. He had told her his name, just before introducing her to Mara... pleasure her feel her rub her probe her enjoy her... Michelle shook her head, and shifted on her seat. She couldn’t even think... her... name without it all coming crashing back. The feedback of vampire overload wasn’t supposed to work this way, but she had never heard of a situation like hers before. Whatever Sparro (she shuddered at thinking his name) was, he had done this to her, and he could undo it. Would undo it. Dear God, he had said he would, and he had to; or she’d never be able to hunt again.

Her cell phone began ringing. She glanced at it forlornly... it was one of her friends. One of her partners. The calls had been coming more regularly as time past. She never answered any of them. She couldn’t. Sparro (another shudder) had told her plainly; no communication with any of her allies until she was done.

They might find her, of course, and then they could... what? Tie her up and take her home? Even with them there, she couldn’t stop. She’d try to escape. Hurt them if she had to. The surety of it frightened her worse than anything she’d seen in her twenty-three years, and she’d seen a lot. She had to obey him. Then he’d let her go. He’d have to. The phone stopped ringing.

The worst part was, she was enjoying herself. Every trace of her quarry left a tingle, every time she felt she’d gained ground, she was happy. Every sunny afternoon was hers to cherish, the joy of being alive filled her very soul. And she knew why. Because he had ordered her to. That was how it worked, now. And every evening... no, no good thinking about that. Not yet. Not till she had to. Not till that evening.

Suddenly, she realized that the scent was gone. After a bit of backtracking, she found the right exit, and the right stopping point. He, it, whatever, had been here for some time. Always the parking lot... he never went into the various motels he stopped at. That was odd, but besides the point. It was only half a day old now... she was gaining ground. By tomorrow, she’d have caught up to him. The thought filled her with shivering elation, and the shivering elation nearly left her in tears. He would let her go. He had to.

Michelle considered taking off immediately, but she’d been on the road for nearly sixteen hours straight. She had time. Time to sleep, and to get it over with.

The room was nothing fancy, but it would serve. She took the time to work out the necessary precautions; just because she wasn’t hunting vampires didn’t mean they weren’t hunting her, and sat down on the bed. Just one more thing to do, might as well get it over with...

The chair in front of her was empty. She knew that. She had only just pulled it away from the desk. Yet now, as she looked at it, she saw him sitting in it. She kneeled down. No point in fighting it. It would happen anyway.

Sparro smiled down at her from the chair, like he did every night. The room was deathly silent (or would have been without the ancient ice machine down the hall) but she heard him speaking.

“I apologize for this being necessary, my dear, but your kind requires even more special precautions than the ones you hunt. Now. Every night, before you rest, you will remember what I say, what I command.”

“Yes, Master,” she whispered. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t there to hear it. She knew that. She whispered anyway. She had to.

“You will pursue the other like me until you find him. You will not falter, and you will not fail. You will be my loyal bloodhound, following his scent. When you find him, you will not engage him. You will alert me.”

“Yes, Master.” It was coming. He’d do it again, he did every night. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t really there. He wasn’t. She knew that. It didn’t matter.

“You will enjoy this hunt. You will feel alive, totally, incredibly alive. There is no pleasure to you like the hunt. Well, almost no pleasure.”

The smile had become a large grin. The hand that wasn’t there rested on her head, and she looked up. It wasn’t there. She knew that it wasn’t there, damn it! It didn’t matter. She felt the hand and looked up, like a dog looking at it’s master. That’s what she was to him, she knew that as well. A bloodhound bitch, looking up at her master. And hoping for a treat. She would get it, she got it every night.

“Remember Mara, Michelle. Remember her, all of her. Every night, when you remember the rest, remember her as well. Enjoy it, Michelle. Enjoy her. All of her. When you have, you may rest. Until it is time to hunt again.”

She heard the words that no one said, but didn’t pay attention to them. Her attention had already been diverted, her mind occupied, remembering. Quickly, she slipped out of her clothes, and fell back onto the bed, her sleek body already sporting a slight sheen of sweat. Mara wasn’t there, anymore than Sparro had been. But she felt the smooth skin, the deft fingers, the rough tongue.

Yes... yes... oh GOD... YES!... Feel her, feel me, touch her, feel her touch me, lick me, hold me... hold her, must lick her, taste her, enjoy her, must obey, hands on breasts, mouth on nipple, feel her, feel her touch me, kiss me, touch me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me fuck me fuck me fuckmefuckmefuckme....

By morning, she was on the road again. It was another beautiful day.

The Kings were gone. It had been a fun vacation, but now they were heading home and backtracking was the last thing that Kyle had in mind. The motel room was fine, and he conducted day to day business as quietly as possible, buying food and continuing the rent on the room, all while making sure that as little of his power was used as possible. Somehow, he knew Sparro would be able to sense it, though he didn’t even know if he was being chased. Maybe Sparro would be happy to let him go. His plan should have been perfect, except for one thing.

It was temporary. Bitterly, glaringly temporary. It would drive him mad in a month, not to mention an immortal lifetime. There had to be another step. What that step should be, however, was the problem.

Suddenly, he knew what he needed. He had to get outside, to feed. His low level feeding off of Allie and Andrea was wearing thin. Angelica, perhaps, could add some spice, but her personality had become so sexualized that it was little different from the other two.

Marlena was different, of course, but her fear and hurt were of little comfort to him; all the less so for being his fault. He needed to get out. She did as well. And maybe, if left to their own devices, Allie and Andrea could come up with something other than sexual frustration. Making up his mind, he turned on heel to ask her... and found her standing there, wanting to talk to him first.

“Look, I’ve got to get out of here, or I think I’ll go crazy. I still don’t understand what’s going on... but I have to get out.”

Kyle nodded. “My thought exactly. We’ll get dinner somewhere.” He turned to the others. “You three entertain yourselves as you will, but don’t leave the suite and don’t make too much noise.” After enduring a quick chorus of “yes, master,” (he wasn’t entirely sure when Angelica had started to call him that...) he grabbed his coat and looked at Marlena. “Let’s get out of here. Maybe I can explain some of it... we’ll have to see.”

The restaurant wasn’t Bendetti’s, but it served. Marlena ate voraciously the first non-RV meal she’d had in days, while Kyle waited... feeling the emotions, sampling those around him. He didn’t dare consume too deeply, for fear it would leave a trace of some kind, but enough sips spread among enough glasses could be both filling and discreet. All it took was time.

Conversation was difficult at best. He had explained earlier what he was, what he did, and had tried to explain that he didn’t know how. More importantly, he explained that there were others, one of whom claimed to own her. Beyond that, she didn’t know what to ask and he didn’t know what to say.

She looked up at him from her shrimp. “Look, about them, your acquaintances.”

Kyle sighed. “They were before I met you, and that’s just Allie and Andrea. Angelica isn’t even mine, but she saved me and might have died if I hadn’t brought her along...”

Marlena’s eyes widened. “No... no, that’s not what I meant. It’s just, why are you avoiding them? Most men with that kind of power...” she broke off, but then began to mumble; “You’ve only been with me the once...”

The scent of jealousy that arose took Kyle by complete surprise. “Well, I’m with you now, and you didn’t seem to want...” he stumbled over his words. He hadn’t been this tongue tied since he’d been human. “I mean, Marlena, I didn’t want to hurt you, I’m trying to save you.”

She nodded miserably. “I know, it’s just... I’m scared, Kyle. I’ve seen what you can do, and you say there’s another like you who claims to own me, and isn’t nice at all. And you barely even talk to me now. When we first left, I thought the one upside would be all the time I’d be spending with you.”

Understanding of a sort blossomed, and Kyle took her hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to be this way... but I won’t leave you alone. Now we’d better get back, or...”

He broke off. Someone was having the time of her life just outside the front door, a sense of fulfillment that most people lived entire lives without feeling. It was like eating pure cake icing with a sprinkling of sugar. He turned to look, just to see who this could be, when he saw a gorgeous young blond walk in, staring straight at him and pointing. “There he is, sir!” She said, elated.

“I know, Michelle. Well done.” There, smiling from beyond the door, was Sparro.