The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Aurora watched herself tug the black leather jacket snug against her body. She twirled and stared at herself in the mirror from every angle. “What do you think, Kelly? I really like this style, but they only have it in solid black. Her predecessor had a little bit of brown around the edges and I always thought it was a really nice touch.”

“I think this is the most girly I’ve seen you act, and I’ve seen you as a school girl.” Kelly’s grin appeared in the mirror as she stepped closer to Aurora. Kelly reached around the younger heroine and grabbed at the zipper, tugging it up until it rested right between Aurora’s breasts. “It looks great on you. Ever considered red leather? I think it might bring out your eyes a little more. You have amazingly deep brown eyes.”

Aurora shrugged and looked to Kelly’s hand on her zipper, and then into her eyes. They were so bright and vibrant in a way that reminded her of Sarah’s eyes. She hoped that was a good sign. Sarah’s brightness was why Quillspawn was defeated before.

The younger woman nodded before walking up to the counter, holding up her arm with the tag still dangling. Card handed over, receipt stashed in a pocket, the heroines headed into the mall proper. “Great, I think that’s everything. We got a quick bite to eat, I got a new jacket, and Aureus is all full of gas. We’ve got a long way to go, and who knows what’s happening right now. I don’t want to think about it too hard.”

“We’re missing helmets, Aurora. You drive like a maniac. I’m surprised you’re even allowed to drive.” Kelly’s voice was playful, but Aurora could easily detect the edge of seriousness. She knew she drove like there was a fire, but she was used to fires everywhere. She remembered racing the Hope-mobile more times than she could count.

“My mom never wore a helmet, and I’m not breaking tradition. I do need a pair of shades, though. Bugs are annoying. Want a pair?” Kelly shook her head. Aurora grinned and quickly grabbed a pair from a display. The golden frame glittered in the sunlight pouring in through the mall’s glass roof. Another card flash and the heroines were walking away again. “We can get you one, if you want. I don’t know how you got around without a motorcycle. It’s heroine chic.”

Kelly frowned and threw up her arms. “I’d be okay—but still. I’m not here to be your mother, I’m here to be your partner.”

“Partner, huh? I’ve been on a team, but I’ve never had a partner. Sounds fun. I call bad cop. Bad cop is so much more fun.” Taking the role of bad cop also meant that Prism couldn’t be another Tunnel, but Hope hadn’t turned out much better. “Sorry, I’ve tried driving with a helmet, it just doesn’t really work for me. Besides, it might be silly, but I truly believe my metal is just waiting. I think smashing into pavement would wake it up. I hope, anyway. Besides, I might drive crazy, but I’m good at it. I’ve never had an accident.”

Talking in public about super heroine affairs without namedropping or saying anything too different than a normal woman might say was something Aurora had grown to love. It was a calming element of a crazy hobby. It also helped her distract herself from remembering Sarah mentioning Olivia giving her the same lecture.

Aureus’s golden paint shone brighter than the frames of Aurora’s glasses. It was hard to believe her trip had been over a year ago. She was looking forward to being home. She was trying not to look forward to seeing Sylvia again.

Aurora mounted her bike and wrapped her fingers slowly around the handlebars. Kelly slid on behind her, wrapping her arms tight around Aurora’s waist. “You’re remarkably quiet. Want to tell me anything more than Mourning covered? Want to talk about your mom? The news reports would have me worried if they were about my mom.”

“I’m about to get a whole lot louder. Hold on tight!” Aurora swept up the kickstand with her foot as she brought her foot down on Aureus’s clutch. Her engine growled as Aurora revved her gently.

“I’m serious, if you need to talk about this—” Kelly was interrupted by a particularly loud roar as Aurora rose her foot and they sped off. Kelly squeezed tighter, lips beside Aurora’s ear to overcome the engine cries. “Don’t you dare do that! If we’re going to be partners, we need to talk. We need to be on the same page here. I can tell this is bothering you! It’s not going to help us any if you’re worrying about this! Talking can help!”

“I’ve already told you about my aunt, about Quillspawn, so there’s nothing to say! We’ll save my mother, my sister if she needs it, and I don’t care what tries to stop us!” Aurora screamed over the engine and the wind rushing around them. Her eyes were narrowed behind her glasses, hands holding white-knuckle tight. “I’m worried, yeah, but I have good reasons to be! Quillspawn was my mother’s enemy! I think she considered Sarah her nemesis. If it’s really her back from oblivion . . . I don’t know what I have that my mother didn’t!”

Kelly’s sigh was torn apart by the wind before it could reach Aurora’s ear. The rainbow-haired woman held her tongue until they reached a stoplight. “Don’t stand in your mother’s shadow! If you can’t step out of it, then you may as well turn this bike around!”

Aurora slouched. “My mothers are my inspiration. I’ll be lucky to compare, but I’m not giving up. I’ll get through this like I have everything else: either logic and planning or winging it by the seat of my shorts. Since I’ve really got no clue how to beat Quillspawn short of getting you to trap her nice and tight I’m guessing that’s the logic, and my shorts come in when they need to.”

“You don’t sound very convinced.”

“I don’t have time to be convinced. I don’t even know if we’ll get there before it’s too late. The point isn’t if I can, it’s can I bare not to. Unless you’ve got any better ideas, that’s my plan.” Aureus roared her approval as the light turned green.

Yana grinned as she pulled open the door of her hotel room to the sight of Sylvia and her plus one. Pamela’s eyes were lost, staring forward without any hint of comprehension. Sylvia’s arm was wrapped around the reporter, her hand teasing along her cheek with faint wisps of purple and silver.

“I was tempted to bring her over here under the pretense of meeting you, but then I decided it would be more fun to take her right then and there. She came so very willingly after that.” Sylvia stepped behind Pamela and held the reporter’s hand to make her wave to Yana. “Hi there Auntie Yana. Like my guest for the party?”

“I do. You have good taste in women, Sylvie. Come on in. Aniela is out dealing with some business at the moment, but she’ll be back soon. We can have a little fun in the meantime.” Yana stepped back from the doorway and motioned in. “Hello Pamela. You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you? Nice curves, pretty face.”

Pamela moaned as Sylvia pushed her through the door with a hand on her ass. She smiled like she was in the middle of a dream as she looked into Yana’s deep eyes. Sylvia locked the door and briefly paused. She held the lock and stared at her hands with wider eyes. Her nails were a dark black. I’ve never even owned black nail polish. . . Confusing but . . . It does look sexy. It’s really not that important, is it?

Sylvia moved quickly to catch up with her party guest and her aunt. Pamela’s eyes struggled to focus until Yana’s fingertips teased along her cheek. As though obeying a silent command, Pamela slackened and sat peacefully on the large bed.

With a soft laugh, Yana sat beside Pamela and ran her own black nails through Pamela’s hair. The reporter moaned and fluttered her eyes with a complacent smile spreading across her smooth lips. Sylvia hooded her eyes as she sat on Pamela’s free side and slid a fingertip down her spine.

Watching the way Yana touched Pamela made Sylvia’s mind feel slick. Each time her fingers moved along Pamela’s pliant body the reporter moaned and adjusted herself. A fingertip to her neck, and the woman arched her back. A faint tracing of a black nail along her ear, and she spread her legs. Sylvia imagined invisible puppet strings dangling from Yana’s fingers, slick, erotic strings that plunged into the full depths of the reporter’s mind, and trembled. Her fingertips tingled. She lazily duplicated her aunt’s touches as though through following the motions she could learn their secrets.

“She’s also got a present for us. I know I came here to . . . to find my mom . . . then to find Sarah too . . .” Sylvia narrowed her eyes. She knew that was why she was in Midas, but the thought felt slippery and less important than she remembered it feeling. It was hard to form a firm resolve, but she remembered how seriously she’d reacted to the news report. “Ever doubted the phrasings of your own thoughts?”

“All of the time dear. All of us creative types question our motives, and our minds. After all, we’re both slaves to our muses, aren’t we?” Yana hooded her eyes as she extended her hand beyond Pamela and slid her elegant fingers into Sylvia’s hair.

Sylvia mewled, fluttering her eyes dreamily as she leaned into her aunt’s touch. Pamela sat silently between them as Yana began to slowly move her nails, tracing small intricate shapes over her niece’s scalp. The points of Yana’s nails were smoothed by a slickness that felt so familiar. It tingled and made her eyes feel heavy and her knees feel weak even though she was sitting down.

As Yana continued to tease along the singer’s scalp, a slick weight tugged down. Already Sylvia felt it harder to move, and even harder to want to move. It was so much nicer to let Yana touch her and to soak in the wet euphoria.

The weight felt concentrated in Sylvia’s breasts, pulling her forward as her lazy body adjusted to the changes. Vague memory flashes of suckling at Yana’s nipple tingled through Sylvia’s mind, but she could hardly deduce the meaning. Slick tingling heat swelled in her chest as her nipples tightened, and hidden under her clothes, the young heroine’s nipples slowly dyed a dark, slick black.

“We have such a connection, don’t we, Sylvia? We understand each other. No one else in the family is so drawn to the creative, to artistic expression.” Yana’s voice tingled into Sylvia nearly as much as her touch. It sent ripples through the reservoir of slick heat inside of Sylvia, drawing her to melt closer to Pamela.

Sylvia’s lips were so heavy and clumsy as she spoke, a sensation flickering between panicking and erotic. “Yessss, Yanna . . . We’re so closssse . . . We’re connected . . .”

Sylvia nuzzled into Pamela, pressing closer to Yana and rubbing the reporter more firmly against her aunt. Pamela moaned, her eyes melting shut as she sank into the soothing heat of Yana’s body. Yana’s smile curved into a lopsided grin, her eyes wide and glistening with oil-slick pupils. Sylvia’s fluttering eyes hinted at the same slickness as the darkness of her pupils faintly stained her irises, adding swirls of black like cheap watercolor paint.

The places deep inside of Sylvia’s mind where the thoughts and concepts that defined her slowly filled with slick black ink. Sylvia cried out softly as black lines began to move through her memories; a dark slick shudder ran along her spine as new words formed in her mind.

Wisps of black quickly melted across the young singer’s eyes. Yana shuddered at the sight and poured more of her ink through Sylvia’s scalp. She could feel each drop that pulsed and flowed within the singer. She could taste Sylvia’s hopes, Sylvia’s thoughts, and Sylvia’s desires as though she were her tongue along Sylvia’s skin. Delicious as her taste was, starry-eyed and full of ambition, it was too pure.

Yana could taste the caution and thoughtfulness that Miss Corvi’s domination had seeded, and the sour taste almost made her sore. With a shake of her head, Yana drew long black lines through not the experiences, but her internal rationalization. Sylvia whimpered, shuddering as she felt the line in her mind and the excess of ink dripping from her nipples and the edges of her lips.

“We share this bond for a very special reason. We’re more connected than anyone realizes. The clues have been there, but no one took the time to notice.” Yana sighed as she eased the flow and gently wiped the ink from Sylvia’s lips. “Can you guess just how connected we are? Can you feel the reason inside of you?”

“Mmm all I can feel is wet yummy black. Whatever you just did felt really, really sexy. More, I want more, please.” Sylvia’s eyes fluttered shut, and black ink dripped down along her lashes.

Pale white fingertips wiped the ink away from her cheeks and slowly spread it over her lips. Sylvia kissed Yana’s finger, pressing the ink into her flesh. “I can give you so much more. You’ve had such rich experiences, they could lead to such lovely inspirations. Maybe we could collaborate on an album. It might be fun.”

Starting from the end of her line, Yana began anew. Her words highlighted how it felt to dominate her band, to break Nikki, and how it had felt when she imagined she could turn the tables. Ink slid along Sylvia’s inner thighs as she screamed. The memories felt brand new again. The colors in them felt richer and so did the shadows. It was so amazing to be the front woman of her band, to be the woman in control of four women’s minds. If Nina Corvi hadn’t been prepared for Sylvia’s song to fuel her rebellion, she would have been another woman kneeling at Sylvia’s feet.

Sylvia whimpered, her face twisting in pain. “What’s wrong, my little nebula? Something not syncing up? These revisions can be so tricky to get just so. Don’t worry, just tell Auntie Yana what’s wrong, and I’ll make it better.”

“Mom . . . she saved me from Nina. She inspired me to make the world a better place the same way she does . . . but I feel like . . . Like I’d rather make the band mine again. It feels like there’s no reason I shouldn’t have, like . . . Something is wrong . . . Revisions . . .?” It was hard to move so weighted with ink, but Sylvia forced herself to pull away.

Yana pushed Pamela onto her back and crawled over her. Sylvia struggled but was quickly pinned under the older woman’s body. “Revisions, yes. Sylvia, relax. This is what you asked for. This, is more. Here, have another taste.”

Sylvia’s ink-stained eyes followed Yana’s hand as it pulled away from her wrist and slid down the strap over her shoulder. Her breast quickly drew Sylvia’s eyes as she followed its ample curves and stopped at the sight of her black nipple. It almost looked tattooed or tanned black, but as natural as her mother’s silver pair. Her eyes grew wider as she struggled to come to the conclusion she knew was right in front of her. Her tongue spread across her lips hungrily in a purely involuntary motion.

“Shh, little Sylvia. Don’t worry, you’ll be fiercely willful again without any memory this even happened. Don’t struggle or strain yourself. You’ve already submitted to this. You’ve already won.” Yana’s nipple pressed to Sylvia’s lips, and in spite of her efforts to resist, they began to suckle.

Ink flowed again into her mouth as Yana slid her fingertips through Sylvia’s hair. Black melted over the memory of her mother’s rescue, and over the sharp impulse that had brought her back to Midas. Sylvia moaned around Yana’s nipple as the formless mass of black slowly solidified. Her eyes shut anew as she felt the revisions to her mind replace any memory of their existence. She began to understand.