The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Oh,” Helen said into as she slid her lower lips onto Ron’s not especially large but extremely rigid penis. She lifted up and slammed down, finding her rhythm as he grunted and gasped on the couch beneath her, his glasses adorably askew. She was about to say “oh” again, but Miranda switched just then from licking her throat to kissing her hard on the mouth.

All my lips swallowing you up for Circe, Helen thought, and her cunt clenched delightfully. She kept her rhythm though, little tendrils of pleasure radiating from her clit up to the crown of her head. Also to her distended nipples, which Miranda was enthusiastically pawing.

Circe would be pleased, Helen thought, and came again, just a little, as she visualized her mistresses look of feral satiation, the one she tried to hide usually, but couldn’t quite when Helen had fucked her really thoroughly, the way she deserved. Mistress liked to pretend to be a good girl, only occasionally asserting her right to fuck Helen’s mind…

She whimpered and so did Ron. So did Miranda for that matter. The two of them were hers. Which meant they were Circe’s.

It was as good as Helen had imagined. Better, even.

Not that Ron was an especially stunning specimen. He wasn’t hideous or anything, but he was getting on somewhat in years, as you’d expect from a senior partner in one of the country’s leading law firms.

Ron had been courting her for a long time—overtly trying to recruit her away from academia and into the corporate world. Less overtly, and perhaps unconsciously on his part, he’d been trying to recruit her into his bed.

He was a good connection to have, and she’d let him take her out to lunch a couple times a year so he could make his pitch and stare at her chest. Sometimes he brought his substantially younger trophy wife Miranda along; red-haired vivacious, and, Helen thought, probably bisexual by the way she tended to follow Ron’s chestward gaze with more appreciation than irritation.

Definitely bisexual, Helen thought smugly as Miranda slid around behind her, spreading Helen’s ass cheeks, her tongue plunging in desperately while Helen continued to pound her husband’s cock deeper.

Despite some initial promises, Circe had been reluctant to let Helen seduce any of her students; the risks were high stakes low reward, she said, and she couldn’t be moved no matter how much Helen finger-fucked her while describing various big-titted beauties she could offer her. Laurie had been Circe’s one compromise…and she’d made Helen promise to just get some hairs from her head. No fucking her senseless for Circe. And of course Michael didn’t really count.

But Ron and Miranda were different. With them as thralls, Circe would have access to all the money she could ever want. Powerful connections too, and legal help as needed. It was safety, which meant safety to collect more thralls. To collect all the thralls. And Circe should have all the thralls.

So Circe had agreed—nervously out of bed, and with more enthusiasm when Helen was servicing her.

Helen hadn’t wasted any time. She’d called up right away, turned down lunch and suggested dinner, and she could practically hear Ron’s cock stand to attention as he gave an enthusiastic yes.

She’d left Michael at home doing what Michael did, slid into a skirt just a little too short and a neckline that plunged more than a little too much and at the door had appreciatively eye-fucked Miranda’s very chic little black dress and the curves inside it. She’d leaned in to admire what she assumed were real pearl earrings. Miranda had giggled as she traced the lobe. Bi for sure.

Still, she doubted the couple were planning for a three-way that evening. Ron was sharp and wary; he didn’t want to compromise himself. She probably could have seduced him eventually without magical assistance, but it would have taken another date or two, she guessed. He’d have wanted more assurances that she was invested and not just trying to leverage him.

Circe decided to speed things up. Helen had been flirting when she fondled Miranda’s very lickable ear, but she’d also been delivering the curse. A little scratch of a nail dyed with Circe’s fluids and various vile ingredients, and a little prayer to the moon. Miranda had jumped a little and Helen was afraid she’d figure out something was wrong.

But she didn’t. Neither did Ron. Helen could see the aphrodisiac working quite quickly. They started to look flushed. Then they started cuddling up together. And then Miranda started talking about her college girlfriend. And then they all kissed a little playfully. And then less playfully. And then Helen got her cunt stuffed good and tight by Ron’s dick and her hungry tongue was up in Miranda’s twat. And it was for Circe and it felt so, so good.

Especially when Miranda arched against her mouth while Ron plowed her from behind. And she pulled out that public hair and palmed it and thought about how Miranda would look panting for Circe.

She got Ron’s shortly after while giving him a nice slick tit fuck. Circe really wasn’t very interested in guys, but maybe she’d let Helen fuck him again when he was hers. She didn’t need dick; she didn’t need anything Circe didn’t tell her to need. But feeling a hard cock up in her for Circe’s glory was…nice.

Ron sacked out first, completely exhausted. Helen fucked Miranda for a while longer, but eventually she too drifted off between orgasms. Helen wiped her mouth, cleaned up a little in the bathroom, retrieved her treasures from the little plastic baggie she’d hidden more or less in plain sight on the sink when she’d ducked out of the exertions for a minute, got into her somewhat battered clothes, and headed out to her car…and to Mistress’.

Circe had said they wanted to get Ron and Miranda enthralled as quickly as possible. The sooner they were rich the better, and even with pubic hair, the spell took some days.

Helen hoped Circe could take a minute to fuck her first though. The three way had been fun, but she never really felt satiated except when on her knees in front of her mistress.

She was just about to open her car door, thinking of Circe’s folds, and the way her mistress trembled when she got her tongue in just so, when, as if summoned by oral contemplation, a cloth clothed over her nose and mouth. She tried to yell for help, but as soon as she drew in a breath everything went black.

Her last despairing thought was that her mistress might never fuck her again.

She woke in the dark and knew immediately something important was missing. She wasn’t sure what though.

For a panicked instant she thought it might be a hand or a foot. She couldn’t move anything. She tried to shriek and couldn’t do that either. There was something in her mouth. She made a muffled, despairing noise.

Then there was a rustle and she could see. She was looking into the face of an intense, round-faced woman with severe glasses and a severe expression. She looked like an angry librarian.

“Cease your squirming, demon thrall!” the woman said, somewhat improbably. “You will aid us, or…!” Her glasses flashed with an ominous glint that was universal librarianese for “return your overdue books now, miscreant!”

“Griselda!” another voice interjected with exasperation. The voice’s owner hove into view. There was a lot of him; big, not fat, with disheveled hair and a worried expression.

He maneuvered Griselda out of the way, to her obvious annoyance. “Hi,” he said. “Look, we’re sorry about this, but we believe you’ve been…er…soldintotheservitudeofsatan.” He said the last bit all in one word, as if he were embarrassed.

“Mumph,” Helen said.

“Right. So, we’ve taken some steps and I think you should be feeling…more yourself. I’m going to take the gag off so we can talk. Don’t..don’t shout, okay? Just try to…we’re going to ask some questions. About Circe Thorn. Right?”

He pulled the gag off and Helen took in a breath to do that scream he’d told her not too and then she registered Circe’s name and her voice just curled in on itself and died.

“Circe?” she said in a whisper.

Nothing answered. Her nipples didn’t tighten. Her cunt didn’t flare. She didn’t taste her mistress on her tongue, like wine.

Cece. Not her mistress. She wasn’t her mistress.

“Oh my god,” she said. “What did you do? What have I been doing? I’ve…”

“Right,” said Griselda. “That’s what we want to know. What have you been doing for the depraved bitch who has sunk her claws into your blackened…”

“For the Love of Our Lord,” the man said, “can’t you see she’s upset?”

Helen was in fact sobbing openly, tears running down her face which she couldn’t wipe away since she was tied up. The last months were spiraling through her head in a collage of sex and depravity terrifyingly drained of lust. Cece lowering herself onto her eager, tongue, the tip plunging in, trembling at the thought of her mistress finishing in her mouth. Thrusting her clit against Cece’s, driving herself to exhaustion to make her finish…

The memories of being debauched herself though were a lot more tolerable than what she’d done on Cece’s behalf. Capturing that poor other girl, Laurie. Listening—no, masturbating openly—as Cece told the girl to drop out of school and ruin her life.

And all the other girls she’d begged Cece to let her seduce for her—she’d been checking out girls in her classes for weeks, imagining fucking them for her mistress. And then there was Michael…

“Oh god,” she said. “My husband. Cece…she was mad at him. Maybe jealous. She…he was her thrall like me but she doesn’t like men. Told him to masturbate thinking of her, all the time, but that he couldn’t come. She told me to tease him. He’s…just hours, desperately jerking himself off, crying, begging Cece to fuck him, and me laughing at him and telling him she never would. She even fucked me once in front of him. How…” she looked up. “We have to save him. We have to save Laurie. We’ve got to…”

The man nodded. “We do. And you’re going to help us.”

Cece was dreaming of her cousin Esmerelda watching Laurie in the strip club that was also the chanting circle. Esmerelda turned towards her with those really remarkable tits and she had Selene’s face, which said, “Wake up. We’ve got trouble.”

Cece woke up. The clock said it was 4 in the afternoon. Laurie was gone; probably went to her own place to change before heading out to the club. Cece shifted and her hand just happened to slide between her legs. She was wet, again. Maybe she should go to see Laurie dance and…

Oh wait. She couldn’t do that. She was supposed to start casting the spell to get the Berensons under her thrall. Helen was supposed to bring her the hair, and she had everything set.

Which raised the question, where was Helen?

She hadn’t woken her up begging to lick her cunt, which was…odd. Helen in normal circumstances could barely be dissuaded from fucking her silly. Helen after having done something flagrantly immoral on her behalf would be in a state of near sexual frenzy.

She sat up and looked around the room as if she could have somehow missed 5′6 of D cups and sex on legs lying on the bed, or the floor, or hanging from the ceiling like a bat. But, right, she hadn’t missed it.

So she checked her phone, with the cute little manga witch case that Laurie had insisted on getting for her.

Sure enough there was a text from Helen.

“Sorry I couldn’t make it,” it said. “Got the naughty bits! Can you come over to my place to pick it up? I forgot I had papers to grade; need to finish for class tomorrow!”

There was a heart emoji.

Cece read the text over again. And again. She felt something cold on her neck. Like a witch’s claw.

Cece had been living with and fucking Helen for weeks now. It had taken a while to get used to her absolute fawning obsessive devotion. But she had in fact gotten used to it. And this wasn’t it.

There was no way Helen would put off seeing her for grading papers. Helen didn’t care about her academic career at all anymore.

She heard the familiar sound of the key in the front door. Then the sound of the door opening.

Well, fuck, said Selene.