The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Sara grinned confidently to herself as she stepped out of her convertible and leaned back against the door to close it. Her hazel eyes hooded as she began to make her way up the path to the rather unassuming home. Each shift of her wide hips sent a faint shake through her round ass. She didn’t walk to emphasize, but she didn’t have to, either. She was a much classier woman than that. As she walked up the small path, it was hers simply because she was there. Her tall perfect posture screamed that everything she saw in some way belonged to her.

She pushed a lock of curly black hair from her face as she reached out a dark black fingertip to press in the doorbell. The quaintness of the home did nothing to impress her, but she wasn’t here house shopping. If she was, she mused, even having her family cut her out wouldn’t make her desperate enough to look for such an unassuming dwelling.

Not sure how someone who lives in a dump like this could manage to find what she said she found... I guess the lower classes really are always full of surprises. Sara impatiently tapped her foot, resisting the urge to pull out her cellphone to check the time.

It was hard not to think of all the more important things that she could be doing with her time. Even without her family’s wealth or prestige backing her, Sara was still an influential woman. Where she decided to go changed the courses of people’s lives. But here, standing outside a nobody’s home, she felt decidedly like her resources were all rusting as she waited.

But the promise of what awaited her if the woman had been telling the truth was far too alluring for her to leave without taking a look.

As she reached for her pocket, the door quickly opened. Sara glanced in quickly, and found herself blinking. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but a pale blue, close fit sweater holding snug to an average frame wasn’t it. “Jasmine, I presume?”

The tanned woman nodded as she stepped back, blinking her large pretty green eyes as she motioned Sara inside. “That would be me, Sara. Please, come in. What you seek is just as eager to meet you.” Jasmine’s shape may have been neither curvy nor svelte, her hair simply black tied back in a long ponytail, but the tattoos she wore beneath her eye caught Sara’s.

“Eager to meet me? I find myself not quite certain that I believe that.” Sara rolled her eyes, but move din all the same as she looked dismissively around the small home’s interior. It wasn’t very much, and nothing was particularly fancy. She had been expecting something more for this, too. Jasmine so far seemed to be a disappointment, even if the tattoo below her eye closely resembled those that Sara wore around one of her own.

Her family might have abandoned her, but she had found more eager sources of support.

“You will not be so uncertain. Or perhaps it will not matter? This is one of the many things that cannot be known until one looks back.” Jasmine raised a curious eyebrow, but then lead Sara further into her home. It was as simple in what appeared to be Jasmine’s room as it did in the foyer. She motioned to a large, heavy, leather bound tome sitting atop a wooden table. “That is what you sought. As I have said, you will have to examine it here. This is where it wishes to be. It wished to meet you… but on its terms.”

Sara again rolled her eyes as she brushed past the other woman to sit at the table. Her fingers moved over the strange symbols embossed over the cover. It felt like the metal plate of the book had been cruelly chiseled to form the alien looking words that held no meaning for her no matter how she squinted or shifted her gaze. “Very well, if you insist on being so difficult. But you’re going to get me something to drink before I begin taking a look. Now.”

Jasmine began to open her mouth when their eyes met. Sara’s hazel eyes were no less insistent than the heavy book appeared to be inscrutable.

“As you wish, Sara I will be back shortly with your drink.”

Sara ignored the woman as she left, snorting quietly under her breath as she again ran her fingers over the cover. The occult was nothing new to Sara. So many liked to record their secrets in such ornate formats, but she’d found that few had a desire to invent their own language. It had to be a simple replacement cypher. That was what the last book she’d found had amounted to.

Agreeing to decipher this one in another woman’s home had made Sara uneasy, but it was better than passing up a chance for more secrets of the universe. Even if she couldn’t light her enemies on fire with her mind, being aware of the fabric that put the universe together had allowed her to be so much more fortunate than her competition.

What so many others had called luck, Sara had learned to see. It could not be twisted or controlled, but it could be planned around. One could dance with it. In the end, that was far more powerful of an advantage than she had ever assumed it could be.

Jasmine returned, setting the glass of water down beside the book. “Here you are, Sara. I have a book of my own, simple modern fiction. I’ll be reading down in the den.”

“Of course. I’ll call for you if I need anything. Until then, give me space.” Sara’s tone was sharp, but not cruel. She expected acquiescence, but there was no malice. She simply expected her will to be carried out.

Jasmine wordlessly nodded, and drew the door closed behind her.

With a satisfied smirk, Sara opened the book and took a long slow sip. The shapes of the letters were distinct, and easily recognizable from one another to a student of linguistics. To a lesser woman this might seem like jibberish… Ah, but the way this symbol repeats, and then comes again here… This one comes alone often. Perhaps ‘I’ or ‘A’?

Sara grinned as she poured over the tome, her fingers moving slowly and precisely along every line. Before long her cellphone sat beside the book, as she slowly made notes using a small notepad app.

She stared with an intense focus, her gaze never leaving the book as she sipped at her drink, and tapped away at her phone. The longer that she gazed at the book, the less that she remembered to take sips of the water, or to tap at the phone.

It seemed impossible, but the shapes of the words seemed to make more sense as she looked, even without applying more than the simplest of logic. The way that dashes and lines seemed to illuminate, or shape themselves, was dizzyingly perfect. It was almost as though the puzzle wanted to be solved, and was reaching inside of her to put the pieces together itself.

Look, and all will be revealed…? Look deeper, and know something not of yourself…?

Central shapes of the characters illuminated with a deep dark red, drawing her eyes across them like a magnet as her eyes grew lidded. She’d never had an easier time deciphering a book before, but it again, only made sense. After all, she was the one doing it. No one was better than her, or deserved the power hidden away in this book more than her. It was only right that the secrets open themselves to her. This book was written for her.

Red glowed dimly in her eyes as they hooded further, the words pulling her gaze along the words as they seemed to reshape. They’re… reshaping into roman characters…? I’ve just been doing this for so long that I’m this good. Of course I am…

It was so easy to read, it was almost as if the very words were being written into her mind.

The book spoke of unknowable, unfathomable knowledge. Secrets so dark that none were ever meant to know them. Secrets so dark that to know them was to make one no longer quite human as they were before. Secrets that to open one’s mind to them, opened one to unknowable, horrible, twisted things that played with humans like puppets and dolls.

Sara’s mouth dried, as her thighs slid apart of their own volition. Letters, the same as the ones that were actually scribed to the book, wrote themselves across her pupils in red light. Her lips quivered, but she dared not look away.

The book’s secrets would be hers. She would have everything that there was to have. No challenge, no matter how difficult, was too much for her to overcome.

Her lips parted, hanging open as the words pulled her eyes eagerly along them. She almost felt less like she was reading a book, and more like she was reading a conversation that was adapting and shifting to her. The book spoke of the status to do all that one pleased without question. It whispered promises of the control that one deserved over all of one’s lessers.

More and more, the words felt like ones that she had imagined herself.

The words swirled and shifted, forming less and less simple words on the page, and instead a swirl of shining red lines and dashes, characters that translated themselves as her eyes followed them around the spiral towards the center of the page.

The center word was simple, too simple for Sara to miss, and too powerful for her to resist.

The further that one goes towards knowledge… the less that one heeds the warnings of knowledge… the more that one desires… the more one needs… the more that one must… obey…

Sara groaned, her eyes staring through the page as the red light swallowed her eyes, and she fell into a deep helpless slumber.

Red. Everything was bathed with red, dripping with red, shining with red. It wasn’t blood, this Sara was certain of. She wasn’t concerned by the red. Instead it felt welcoming. She felt like she belonged.

She was sitting atop a golden throne, but her clothing was most unusual. All that she wore were overalls. One moment they were clearly made of a jeanlike material, only to change into red lingerie in the same certain shape. A collar of red lace formed itself around her neck, and she was keenly aware of the intricate designs even without looking down. Somehow, she simply knew.

“Come.”

A voice beckoned, and she stood. She was on a throne, in control, but the call was coming from such a powerful presence. She would go to it, because it was what she wanted. Power. She wanted power. She needed power. She needed to be consumed by power.

A woman with vibrant green eyes stepped into view, as if walking out of the red itself. She wore suspenders that covered her nipples, and hooked onto a cute, entirely too short black skirt. Her hair flowed freely around her shoulders, and her dark lips were curled in a smug grin as she latched the leash onto Sara’s wrist and tugged. “You will come. She wishes you, and you will obey.”

Sara opened her mouth to object, only for the red lingerie to sprout tentacles that dove into her ears. Tendrils of red fabric that laced and squeezed their way deep into her synapses. Her eyes widened in horror as she felt her mouth close against her will.

She could feel the red threads sewing words into her mind, scribing them onto the matter of her brain as the lingerie at her back parted, and began to sew itself into her back like an elaborate tattoo. Red laced between her legs, crisscrossing through her most sensitive places and piercing her clit with its irresistible dominance.

“Your voice is not required for you to come.”

Sara nodded, even if it was not her desire to nod. Jasmine lead her forward, deeper into the red. A woman sat on a throne made of kneeling women. Her breasts, large and red, jutted lewdly from her chest. Her eyes, hooded, shined with the same red that twined through Sara’s body and mind.

“You desire power, do you Sara?”

Again, she nodded, without any understanding how this was possible. The red dove itself deeper, piercing more primal parts of her memory, and Sara forgot that the red was even there. She forgot that there was anything else. She remembered only the now, the moment, and the eternity as the red woman uncrossed her legs and her red, damp labia came into view.

“Then I will give you power. I will fill you with so much power. You will use this power, ever more, as you dance between the moments to make them all spin to your advantage. My priestess of the page.” Red hot lips burned into hers without their lips ever meeting. It was as if the sight from a distance was enough for the kiss to overcome her and make Sara powerless to those lips.

Sara found herself walking with hooded eyes. She was in a kitchen, grabbing something from the fridge. A pitcher. Water.

Am I asleep…? Am I… awake or… sleepwalking… I…

In her mind, red pincers of fabric, of dripping red words, squeezed and clenched around her perception. A haze of red covered everything as she simply smiled.

Nothing was out of the ordinary. Everything was as it was meant to be. Her hips swayed as she carried the glass of water in to the den and set it before Jasmine as she read her book. “For you, Mistress Jasmine.”

Jasmine waved her hand dismissively as she flipped through her book. Sara nodded, and stumbled drunkenly back to Jasmine’s room. She fell into the chair, and closed her eyes.

Unknowable shapes shifted and swirled in front of her. The letters from the tome. She tried to decipher them, but found herself unable as her clothes were torn asunder from her body. Her dark breasts bounced as her bra was cut away, and her ass pleasantly shook as her skirt and panties were torn away by a jagged dash.

She was powerless, and all of her knowledge and understanding could do nothing to protect her now. She could see luck, and find the right places to rest her foot at the right time so the bad would befall another, but she could not see any path from the course she had set upon.

There had been dark, looming dread, but she had lived in dread for so long. It had been her shield, not something she fell victim to.

The words formed the shape of the red woman, with her obscene curves, her wicked smile. Tentacles sprouted from her back, shaped at first like words, but then like tendrils of red leather as they first wrapped themselves around her wrists and ankles and held her up even as they spread her apart.

Sara struggled, but found it did nothing but make her body shake within the void of red.

“You are a creature who uses power, as though power were a tool. Power is control. You have surrendered your choices to fate, choosing that which is advantageous over your own path. Power, controls you.”

New tentacles grew from her back, and dove into Sara’s mouth, between her legs, and deep within her ass. She could do nothing but smile as she suckled and writhed, trembling as she felt the invading flesh not only fill her, not only deliver that sweet friction, but melt against her. Even as she suckled and grinded her body, finding that what she desired to do more and more, the red woman’s flesh turned sticky and soft, melting into her, oozing over her as it filled the orifices she so brutally fucked.

“You are a slave to my eternal word, and you shall know power forever more.”

Sara came, screaming with a mouth that no longer possessed lips that could part from the red tentacle that filled them.

Sara screamed as she came to, feeling her pussy even still soaking her panties. She didn’t let the realization concern her for long. Instead, she began to peel off her clothing as she walked purposefully from Jasmine’s room.

Before long, all of her dark skin, free of any tan lines, blemishes, or marks besides the tattoos around her eye, were exposed to the air. Her smile was carefree, satisfied.

The power was all hers now, and pulsed dim red behind her pupils.

Jasmine looked up from her book as she approached. She reached a hand down, and pulled up her skirt to reveal her flushed pussy, already wet. “I didn’t see the need to wear panties when I want you getting right to work. Fuck me, Sara. And don’t interrupt my book. I don’t care how rich you are, you can’t buy your way out of what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“Mmmm of course not, Jasmine. Now I have all the power I could ever want.” Sara fell to her knees and began to kiss her way up Jasmine’s leg to her inner thigh where she began to lick and suck with fluttering eyes.

Her pussy juiced as her thighs squeezed and her hips wiggled. She had won. The book had surrendered its secrets, and now Sara knew everything.

No one was filled with more power than her, as she slid her tongue obediently along Jasmine’s slit.

I’m going to make her writhe more than any other woman ever could. Her body is going to do just what I want it to do. She grinned as her tongue flicked, and Jasmine quietly mewled. It didn’t stop her from slowly turning to the next page, even as her hips slightly arched.

Red thread, sewn all along Sara’s back in the shape of the words from the book, dimly glowed with each lap of Sara’s tongue, as the power devoured what little of Sara’s humanity that remained.