The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The key worked, just like the client had promised. Sam smiled. She was used to dealing with paranoid dangerous assholes who had taken precautions against people like her. Going in through the front door of an unsecure residence to kidnap a diminutive civilian was a novelty.

Not that Sam minded. She was firmly of the opinion that challenges were overrated. This job was not challenging, and she was here for it.

The lights were off in the hall. Pretty typical clutter; shoes on the floor, entrance leading off to a living room, stairs at the far end. There was, she noted with some amusement, a leather skirt abandoned on the floor. And on the wall a jokey semi-erotic picture of a woman in a full sexy witch getup, winking over a large bosom. Her quarry was a bit of a freak, it looked like.

Well, perhaps the target would enjoy being tied up then. Sam pulled out her gun and felt it nestle, heavy, deadly and comfortable, in her hand. She started up the stairs, trying not to make too much noise. Not that it would matter, really. Sam was 6′1, armed, trained, and not planning on taking any shit. Circe Thorn was fucked.

Cece stood naked and frozen in the middle of her bedroom, listening to her own breathing shift from panicked to hyperventilating. She was fucked.

Maybe it’s just Helen finally coming over. Maybe Laurie decided to swing by before work. It could all be fine! she told herself.

Don’t be an ass, you ass, Selene whispered. You’re a witch. You know when blood is moving against you.

Fuck you, Selene, Cece responded, her internal monologue shifting towards high pitched panic. You wouldn’t think you could get high-pitched panic in internal monologue, but Circe managed. You got me into this fucking shit and now I’m going to fucking die why didn’t you just leave me alone oh my god I’m going to die you bitch.

There was a scraping sound, which might have been Selene laughing, or the sound of her eyeballs rolling. I’m pretty sure what got you into this was your insatiable cunt, granddaughter. Maybe you should stop yelling at me and figure out how we’re getting out of this.

Cece whimpered, and her eyes darted helplessly around the bedroom, with its mussed sheets and recently-fucked-in look. She needed a weapon. There were handcuffs in the dresser, right? She could handcuff the intruder to death. Or didn’t she have a tennis racket somewhere?

If she had the intruders’ public hair and 72 hours she could turn her into a panting thrall who would beg to cuff herself to a tennis racket for Circe. She had no public hair, though. Also no tennis racket. And only about 72 seconds. The stairs creaked ominously.

The room flickered around her. A pile of spell books on an end table. The purple head of a strap-on protruding lewdly from under the bed. Her Siamese cat pajamas on the floor. The mason jar with the nail polish she’d made up for Helen.

She stared at that last one.

Sam paused for a second outside what her intel said was the bedroom door. The target might well be asleep, she’d been told. And if not, well, the target was untrained and physically unimposing.

Still, you didn’t get far in this business by taking chances.

She took a breath, kicked the door in, dropped and rolled, coming up with her gun leveled at an empty room. A purple dildo head looked at her somewhat sardonically from under the bed.

Okay. Sam scanned the room. The bathroom door was closed.

She smiled tightly. Got you, she thought, and the tangle of sheets came off the bed and turned into a naked, pleasantly plump nude woman with a desperate expression, shouting nonsense words . She had something in her hand.

“What?” Sam said, and the woman dumped the contents of the jar into her mouth a second before Sam backhanded her across the room.

The enormous woman’s blow literally lifted Cece off the floor and (less literally) into blackness. When she came to, she was sitting against the dresser and the room was throbbing in time to her head. The woman loomed over her, her face spattered with the red-brown nail polish mixture. She looked even bigger from this angle.

Also, very very angry.

“What the fuck was that?” the woman spat. She was wearing workman’s overalls. They contrasted oddly with the very efficient looking, sleak gun.

“Uh,” Cece said. Her face really hurt. Also her head. Also the rest of her. The concealment spell had worked better than she’d thought it would, all things considered, but the potion maybe not so much.

The gun got a lot closer. “What. Was. That. You. Bitch,” the woman enunciated impressively. “Did you try to poison me?!”

Cece tried to shake her head and then decided that was a bad idea what with the pain and the gun close enough that it made head movements unwise. “It was an aphrodisiac?” she said, apologetically. “You’re not feeling horny by any chance are you?”

“Horny…? What the fuck is wrong with you, you psycho? Never mind, I don’t care.” She stepped back, taking the gun with her, which was something of a relief. It kept pointing at Cece though. “You’re going to put some clothes on, really slowly. Then you’re coming with me. There are some people who want to meet you. You psycho bitch.”

Cece got to her feet, slowly, as if she could do anything else in her condition. She was sure her head was bleeding, though she was afraid to touch it and find out. Where does she get off calling me a psycho bitch? She’s the one who broke into my house, for fuck’s sake, she thought.

Whining doesn’t become a witch, Selene said drily.

“Oh, shut up,” Cece muttered, as she looked for pants.

The target seemed completely cowed now, handcuffed to the van door, eyes downcast. But Sam still was unsettled. She didn’t like the way the woman kept muttering to herself. She really didn’t like the way that she’d snuck up on her. It was like she’d materialized out of nowhere. She shouldn’t be able to do that.

Among other things she didn’t like: she could still taste the whatever it was the woman had thrown in her mouth. It was a subtle flavor. A little spicy. She kept licking her lips unconsciously, trying to identify it.

She would be glad when she’d delivered the target to the drop-off point, got paid, and could put this behind her. Maybe unwind with a beer or three. She licked her lips.

Maybe hook up.

She glanced over at the target, thinking idly of said target’s naked breasts. Not spectacular, but a nice heft.

The target looked back. Her one eye was swollen. There was blood matting her hair. She looked deeply, thoroughly miserable and unsexy.

Sam’s hands tightened on the wheel. She really wanted to fuck her.

Cece had seen the way that the enormous woman was looking at her and shifting in her seat. And she’d hoped that the aphrodisiac would take effect. So she wasn’t exactly surprised when the van had pulled off the road and into a somewhat deserted sidestreet.

She hadn’t quite expected the woman to skip the preliminaries quite so flagrantly though. She hadn’t even tried to kiss her. Just wrenched her around painfully in the seat, got her jeans down to her thighs, her legs over her shoulder, and dove in.

Cece was not exactly feeling sexy herself, what with the pain and the being handcuffed to the door and the fear for her life. But the woman was extremely enthusiastic, and she knew her way around a clit. She made desperate grunting noises as her tongue plunged in again and again, her giant hands kneading Cece’s ass.

Also, Cece knew she had mind-fucked her but good. And while she didn’t like to admit it, that was always a turn on.

“Who’s the psycho bitch, now, you psycho bitch?” she whispered as she ground her hips into the eager tongue. She came hard on her face. On cue, her mind-fucked psycho bitch came too.

They’d driven back to the house somehow, stumbled up the stairs. And fucked and fucked and fucked for…Sam didn’t know. Time had vanished in a giant rolling wave of need. Sam’s usual rule of being the fucker not the fuckee had been obliterated too. She let Cece get her tongue, fingers, whatever else she wanted into her. She begged her for it.

She kept trying to get control of herself. She was used to being in control. Her body was a weapon, an instrument of her will. A giant clenched fist. It did what she told it.

“Unclench now, baby,” Cece said. “Relax.” Her hand worked Sam’s clit. Sam felt another orgasm rock her. The tip of the dildo pushed at the ring of her anus. She gasped and tried to buck against it, though it was difficult to get leverage with her hands and feet cuffed to the bed, spread-eagled, facing down.

“Shhhh,” Cece said. And started to thrust.

“Wake up, baby,” Cece said. Sam jerked awake—as much as she could jerk still cuffed to the bed. She lifted her head an inch out of the puddle of drool, and saw Cece sitting on the bed beside her face. She groaned and let her check down again with an almost audible sucking sound.

“I’m going to break these cuffs in just a second,” Sam said, with a notable lack of menace, “and then I’m taking you…Uh! Oh god. Mmm.” That last was because Cece had slapped her ass, giving her another orgasm. Then kissed her. Hard.

Cece pulled away and looked at her conquest again. Sam was magnificent if you like muscular women. Which, Cece decided, she did.

“Oh fuck,” Sam said. “What have you done to me, you psycho bitch?”

“Well,” Cece said. “I gave you about a hundred times the recommended dose of Damiana. Wasn’t sure it would work but it sure seems to have.” She reached her hand over and in. “Yep. You are still awfully wet.”

Sam inhaled hard. “Oh. Don’t…I’m going to…you can’t…” Cece kept going though and Sam’s words blurred into incoherence.

“I’ll give you another orgasm if you tell me who hired you?” Cece said, hopefully.

“Not…not telling you…shit…oh…right there…damn it!” she just about sobbed when Cece withdrew her hand.

Cece licked her finger absently. “Yeah, I was afraid of that. Damiana just makes you really horny; you’re still you, not a thrall. I can’t make you tell me anything. But…” she held up something. “I think we can fix that, at least a little.”

Sam squinted at whatever it was in her hand. “What is that?”

Cece smiled. “It’s your pubic hair, hon.”

“Well,” that’s another thing I wasn’t sure would work,” Cece said, when Sam had finished.

Sam was no longer restrained. She sat on the bed, legs spread out before her. Her right hand made slow circles around her clit. Her forehead was creased in confusion.

“Why did I tell you everything?” she said, mildly. “I didn’t want to tell you everything. It’s not professional.” She started to slap her cunt—short coaxing slaps, just hard enough to make her gasp.

Cece watched her maul herself with obvious appreciation. “Yeah, sorry about the confusion. The half hour version of the spell doesn’t totally convert you to my service, I guess. You’re just kind of suggestible. You want to do what I tell you. Especially sexy things, since you’re still so horny.”

“I’m really horny,” Sam agreed. Her hand was busy.

“Right you are,” Cece agreed. “I’m not exactly sure how long this will last? I don’t think you’ll do what I say forever? But I think long enough to get you out of my hair.” Sam was starting to jerk against her hand, her lips parted. “Hey! No cumming till I say.”

“Want to cum,” Sam said.

“Right, I know. But focus now. You’re a tough bitch, right Sam? You’re hard? You take care of yourself?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Work out. Work hard. Hard.”

“Okay. So, not anymore. You’re tired of being hard. You like being soft. Passive. Accessible. You like it when people take control of you. It turns you on.”

Sam’s frown deepened. She shook her head. “Soft? But…that’s not…I don’t…”

Cece leaned in. “It is. You do. You love flirty, feminine clothes that lets everyone know you’re soft and weak and open. It makes you wet when people take advantage of you and use you. You want everyone to know they can have you and you can’t resist. You talk all high and breathy. You take orders…any orders. Especially any orders that get you fucked. Say it back to me.”

Sam’s voice was high and breathy. Her nipples were very, very hard. “I’m…I’m weak. I’m soft. I need…oh, Cece…I need people to tell me what to do. Tell me what to do and fuck me. Oh Cece please let me cum please….”

“That’s great. You love to plead and beg. You love to be on your knees. You love to crawl.”

“Yes…please…let me crawl to you…let me…”

“In a minute. Now, at some point, you may get your brain back. You may stop being soft, horny Sammy and go back to being tough, hard, Sam. But whenever you think of me it’ll all come back, right? Remembering me, or especially thinking about trying to get back at me, will turn you back into a soft needy puddle of lust. Okay?”

“Uh…oh god. Oh god. Yesss. Yes. Soft for you. Lust for you…”

“Okay. I’m going to go now. Masturbate for another ten minutes, and then you can have the most mind-blowing orgasm of your life. And when you’re done with that, go get some clothes in line with the new you, and go find some cocks that really appreciate the clothes and the softness and all that.”

Cece had meant to leave immediately, but the mindfucking had gotten her a bit revved up and Sammy was so pitifully eager to please. She let her service her again. And again. Then she left her to her last cum, while she headed out to finish this.