The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I know what you’re going to say. Why was I so stupid as to mess with a magical item I knew nothing about? Well, for your information, I didn’t mess with it, per se. I only looked at it. It wasn’t even my fault. The only thing I’d heard was that only the pure of heart may gaze into the Mirror of Hades without consequence. One thing I’ll admit freely is that I am not pure of heart. I am subject to the same appetites and desires as any other mortal. Anyway, like I said, gazing into the mirror wasn’t my fault, the dark mage I was pursuing forced my head in the mirror’s direction and pried my eyes open. Next thing I knew, there I was, floating in a yellowish, viscous atmosphere full of unfortunate persons who had long since given up any hope of rescue.

Within the realm of the Mirror, there is no death, no hunger, no aging, not even a need to breathe. It’s hot, so hot that you feel scalded when you first enter, but of course, there’s no death, so you live through it. Once you learn to ignore the constant pain, all you’re left with is a kind of dreary, bored frustration. The physiological necessities may be suspended in that world without death, but the psychological ones are not. I missed the subtle niceties of life outside the mirror. The taste of food, the scent of fresh air, the feeling of the life-energy around me, the way a woman walks, the sound of a sparrow or a robin or a woman’s aroused moan, the supple feel of yielding flesh beneath my fingers. Oh, yeah, and I missed sex too. Inside the Mirror, it’s hot, it’s boring, there’s an evil, yellowish light everywhere, all the time, and if you want to take a breath, that’s just fine, all you’ll do is scald your lungs. I wanted out. For a thousand years, I wanted out. I hung out by the gate, waiting for my chance.

You’d be surprised how long it takes for a known cursed item to get looked at when people know that’s what activates the curse. All it took was time, however, for the Mirror to recede into myth. Somebody found the box the mage had put the mirror in, and taken it to a storehouse somewhere. All it took was a second’s eye contact. I stayed just a little to the side so I wouldn’t be knocked away by the new tenant’s entrance, and I kicked forward and propelled myself with a swift stroke of my arms, through the momentary opening.

I lay coughing and sputtering on the floor. Oh, God, how wonderful the air felt in my lungs! Even as I was coughing, I relished every sweet breath. Someone helped me to my feet, and sat me in a chair. Another person pounded on my back, helping me bring up the last of that viscous trash from my lungs.

“What happened?” someone asked, another man from the sound of his voice.

“Your comerade cough cough gave me cough cough my chance to escape.” I said when I could speak. “For that, I thank him. Now, if you know what’s good for you, you will avert your eyes from the Mirror of Hades at all costs.” With that, I rose, unsteady on my feet, but I managed to remind my legs how to work, and left. When I was far from the damnable Mirror, I opened my eyes and directed my steps toward the first door I encountered. It had a strange form of latch to it, but due to the form-follows-function nature of technology, I was easily able to determine that I need only push on the bar to gain the right to exit.

The noise as I exited the building nearly staggered me. Technology was everywhere. Horseless conveyances occupied by between one and seven people zipped by on a black stone road that was, admittedly, about as good as anything the Romans could come up with, but then again, the Romans hadn’t designed their stone roads for heavy, wheeled devices, only feet and carts. The life-energy I could sense around me was drastically diminished. I summoned the wind to my aid, and it bore me aloft, above the towering structures and the noise of the city. What I saw from up there astounded me! I was on an island, and that island was entirely covered, from shore to shore, with concrete and buildings, except for one little oasis of life in the middle. I directed the wind to take me there. I kicked off my shoes on the concrete footpath upon touchdown, walked across the grass, and lay down beside a tree. With the comforting feeling of life about me, I sank into the first restful sleep I’d had in a thousand long, tedious, agonized years.

“Yer money or yer life, pal.” someone declared after I had slept for a time. The morning dew was on my clothes, chilling me. I rose stiffly and faced two brigands armed with long knives.

“I have no money for you to take.” I said.

“Too bad.” said the other thief.

“For you.” I replied, waving my hand. With a puff of smoke and a stench of brimstone, the second man’s clothes tumbled limply to the ground. The only movement within the clothes was that of a rabbit who emerged fearfully after a moment. “Take your friend and begone, lest you share his fate.” I stated. The original speaker obeyed, terrified.

“Wow, that’s some trick!” a beautifully female voice stated from the footpath. I turned my gaze in that direction and discovered the most beautiful woman I’d seen in a thousand years.

Okay, so she was the ONLY woman I’d seen in a thousand years. Are you happy now?

At any rate, I stared, transfixed, as she approached me. Her garments were vastly removed from what I was accustomed to—not that I’m complaining. Her chest was covered only by what appeared to be a rather severely stretched piece of cloth, and then only the bottom portions of her breasts were covered (I can’t say ‘concealed’ because her nipples poked dimples in the garment due to the chill of the air, thus leaving nothing to my imagination). She was wearing what appeared to be trousers, but they were made of the same stretched material, clinging to every curve of her supple legs and hips. She wore an odd sort of footwear, the only part of which I recognized were the laces.

“I see a great deal has changed since I’ve been gone.” I managed to reply.

“Do I know you?” she asked.

“I sincerely doubt it, Madam.” I replied. “My name is Jarod.” I managed to remember my manners, and extended a hand to her.

“Sarah.” she replied, shaking my hand as if she were a gentleman. “So, care to explain the little magic act?”

“Act, madam?” I asked. “I’m sorry, but there was no acting involved.” I plucked an acorn from the oak above me and planted it in the ground. Sarah watched in astonishment as, before her eyes, it grew and matured into a beautiful, aged oak more than fit for climbing, swinging on, or carving one’s initials into.

“Wow!” she fairly whispered. As she stared astonished at the tree I’d grown, her form bewitched me in a manner that could only be possible for one who had been denied for a milennium. Before I knew it I was chanting the opening benediction of a spell. My conscience told me “no” but my throbbing phallus cried “proceed”. It wasn’t one of my more complex spells, I’ll admit. I’d been too far away from the life-energy which gives me my power to get much practice over my millenium of imprisonment. It was a simple compulsion to obedience and servitude, specifically obedience and servitude to me.

“I need a place to stay.” I told her. “Please escort me to your residence.” I could see the struggle in her eyes, but the spell was firmly entrenched in her mind, and would remain so until such time as I removed it. She obeyed, leading me down the footpath to the concrete nastiness beyond the park. She paused at the road and held out a hand, and a yellow conveyance which reminded me unpleasantly of where I’d been stopped. She got in, and I reluctantly followed.

“Bronx.” Sarah said, and I watched in fascination as the driver pushed something near the floor down with his foot, moved a lever down, spun a wheel, and pushed something else near the floor. I quickly reasoned that each of these actions was interpreted by the machine as a command, so I memorized the procedures.

“Whatsamatta, guy, you look like you ain’t seen nobody drive a car before.” the driver said.

“I have been out of touch for...for a long time.” I responded. I could see that Sarah wanted to tell the driver what had been done to her, but because it was a disservice to me, she was forced to remain silent. When we arrived in the area known as The Bronx, Sarah gave the driver her address so he could find her residence. We arrived, and Sarah paused only to pay the man before leading me up the stairs to the ‘apartment’ as she called it. Once we were inside, she stopped, unsure of what to do as her instinctive abhorment of my invasion of her home and mind warred with the compulsion to obey and serve.

“What...what’s that smell?” she asked as I moved in front of her.

“Smell?” I asked. “Oh! Possibly some lingering taint from that infernal Mirror.”

“Huh?” I sighed and allowed her to sit down while I related the tale of how I’d become trapped within the Mirror.

“I would appreciate it if you could tell me where I might remove some of this taint from my flesh and clothes.” I said at last. She rose, showing me to a strange, tiled room, and began to explain all about the shower. Finding her explanation a bit difficult to grasp, I asked her to show me. Blushing ferociously, she disrobed, and I did the same. I stepped in behind her and she closed the sliding door, then bent over to turn a knob, which caused water to begin to cascade out of a device in the ceiling. She poured some blue, viscous stuff onto a strange device like a lace chrysanthemum, and the scent of various herbs filled the air, delighting my senses. She began to scrub this device against me, resulting in a luxurious, frothy lather, and a great relief from itches I hadn’t even known I’d had. She put something else in my hair, and began to scrub it around, filling the air with the scent of raspberry, juniper and chamomile. She then had me stand under the cascading water to rinse off, then repeated the process. In return, I did the same for her. As my hands continually made contact with her lissome body, I began to feel again the stirrings which had prompted the casting of my spell in the first place. I kissed her mouth and caressed her body until she responded, then I pressed her against the wall and slid my phallus within her lovely body. I chanted a new spell as I began to thrust, improving the sensitivity of her body so that she could experience greater pleasure. I suppose it was only fair, after all I was forcing myself on her and risking a bastard child as well. Her protests melted away as coital bliss overhwelmed her. Thanks to the spell, I was able to bring her a climax shortly before my own. Okay, perhaps I overdid it just a bit. She passed out as my semen erupted within her. Laying her against the wall, I managed to get the water to cease its cascade by turning the knobs in the opposite direction from the one Sarah had turned them. I began to rummage in the cabinets for something to rouse her with, and discovered the towels quite by accident.

After drying us both off, I lay her beautiful body on the bed and sat there beside her, just admiring her until she awoke.

“What must I do to cleanse the clothing?” I asked.

“Just put them in the basket with the other dirty clothes.” she responded sleepily. “I’ll wash them in the morning.” I nodded and, reluctantly, left her to attend to that task. I picked up the cassock and trousers with a stick that had a strange, rubber bowl at the end, and placed them atop the indicated basket, which was made of a material that I could sense was organic, but hadn’t been alive in a LONG time, possibly related to tar.

When I returned, I found Sarah gone. She was in the kitchen, warming some sort of packaged meals. I sat down at the table, still nude, and stared curiously at the empty containers. Leaving the food to take care of itself, she sat down in my lap. Her skin felt good against mine, and I began to caress her, running my fingers through her hair. As I did, I sensed that it was...damaged, somehow. It was not naturally the golden blonde shade I saw—a fact which her shaven genitals had failed to bring to my attention. In moments, it was restored to its true color and to full, shining health. She stared at me as her ebony mane curled about her nipples. The darkness tumbling about her shoulders contrasted sharply with her smooth, pale, creamy skin and bright, hazel eyes. I could see why she had chosen to alter the color Nature had given her, even if my natural sensitivity didn’t agree with the method.

“I can make it natural.” I said. “If that’s what you want.”

“You mean I could be blonde without spending four hundred bucks a month at the salon?” she asked.

“Yes.” I responded.

“Could you? Please?”

“As you wish, Sarah.” I replied, changing the color again. This time, however, her hair remained strong and healthy and luxuriant to the touch. A tiny bell sounded within the machine, and Sarah reluctantly left my lap to retrieve the food. What I was presented with looked nothing like the box had indicated, but I ate it anyway. It felt so good to put something hot and chewy in my mouth I didn’t even care that, by my standards of a thousand years ago, it was absolutely terrible. After dinner, she led me back to the ‘restroom’ to demonstrate the concept of brushing one’s teeth, using four kinds of whiteners, then using dental floss and mouthwash to remove the bits of food from between one’s teeth. I found my own cleansing spells to be far more effective, and demonstrated one for her. She marveled at the brilliance of her new smile for a few minutes before I led her back to the bed, with my own mouth now cleansed. I sated my sexual self with her, and we drifted off to sleep by dawn’s light. Something near the bed began to make a rude noise, but one quick lightning spell took care of it before it could awaken my dear Sarah.

What an outing this had been! I pillowed my head on her chest, wondering what wonders the morrow would bring!