The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The room was full of noise, flicking candles, and smoke. Women, covered in oils and sweat danced on tables, while slaves served beer, wine, mead, and boiled eggs of all sizes. Laughter, shouting, and moaning filled the dark corners of the room where the more shy took care of business. Those who were not as shy fucked right in the middle of the room, on chairs, on tables, and sometimes on the floor. Ropes, whips and dildos were used here and there, and sometimes fruit was also used. Fun was being had by all.

Tiberius Tullius the Fourth was too distracted by the sucking wet mouth wrapped around his hard cock to notice what was happening in the rest of the private underground chamber. The orgy of the Religious members of Nile society was going wonderfully. Priests, Priestesses, Shamans, Monks, Nuns, and Temple Apprentices were all having a grand time with the Royal Family who he had brought along for the party.

Tiberius reached down to push the woman’s head down his shaft as he thought about how well the Royal Orgies were going. The first had been held for the Guilds. Men skilled at fishing, boat repair, spaceship design, and more had come to the first party to find the chamber full of wine, food, and Royal Family members waiting to serve them. It had been a wonderful orgy and news of it had soon spread throughout the layers of the city, from the homeless to the very, very rich.

Next he had invited some of the Generals and the party after that had been some of the Nobles. Orgy after orgy had been held, mush to the horror of his private finances.

Tiberius leaned to one side to suckle the breasts of one of the young princesses. He forgot her name, something to do with river birds, just remembering that she was the daughter of the older woman that was just now giving his dick a eager sucking.

He chuckled, as more people entered the hidden room dressed up as street performers and wheat farmers. The whole series of parties had been kept very secret. The chamber was under one of the many wine shops of the poorest quarter of the city. There was little wealth here so there was no reason for the police and authorities to even notice it. King Kemet the Fourteenth was not one to waste and money on problems that did not exist or could be overlooked. What the poor did to themselves was their own problem.

That made the secret meeting halls and drug dens a perfect spot to hold an orgy. And some of the guests he invited seemed to even get a kick out of the cloak and dagger atmosphere of the orgies. Dressed as common people, lower class traders and artisans, the wealthy and powerful felt they were getting away with breaking the rules. They walked through the dirty, mud pathways between stone buildings, dressed up as flashy pimps, cheap gamblers, and lost pilgrims. A world away from the perfumed brothels, the costly restaurants with its air conditioning, the elegant ten course dinner parties of the filthy rich.

Of course nobody wanted to end up under the House of Justice, tortured and killed, turned into mummies. The stories that the people of Thebes told of the ruined, rotten corpses of those that had displeased the King were well known. Tiberius did not plan to join those fools, food for rats and beetles, wrapped in decaying cotton stripes.

In the end it was somewhat dangerous. The brainwash Queens, Princesses, Princes danced on table tops, were gang banged, and happily acted like the sex objects they had become. The guests would not dream of every telling anybody. For if the police ever found out…

After every orgy, after each party, the guests came to him, begging him to help them with wives, daughters and even a few Mother-In-Laws. Drunk, overheated, and excited all of them saw their chance to take control of their lives, of their overbearing wives, and their out of control children. Even some of the women asked for their children and husbands to be helped to be more proper, more submissive, more loyal to the Household.

Soon every layer, every level of the government, culture, world of Nile would have willing, eager slaves who answered only to him. The whole world would answer to him (well the most important parts of it) within a few more weeks.

He pushed the woman’s mouth down, harder, listening to her gag and choke. Her daughter seemed not to notice, too busy rubbing her young, perky breasts against his face. He was starting to enjoy his power to the point that it was more refreshing than wine. He, in fact, had not had a proper hang over in the last few weeks.

Not to say he did not wake up exhausted and sore. Sex non-stop was really starting to slow him down. The drugs he took to help keep his member strong and hard during some of the public and private parties were also starting to prove less and less effective. Maybe if he switched to Rhino horn?

The shadows of the chamber were deep and dark. Not all of them were occupied by invite guests. Two were uninvited.

“See,” said one of the cloaked figures peeking out from under his hood. “The Royal Family, firmly under his control. He did what he said he would do.”

“Yes my brother,” said the second cloaked figure. “Yes. I think he will be able to help our cause.”

“When should we take him?” said the first, as he turned away from the sinful sight of the orgy, his hands examining the nearest stone wall.

“Soon,” said the second, as he followed the first into the hidden passage the first had found with knowing hands. “Very, very soon.”

When the wall slipped back into place, the two were long gone, leaving nothing behind but some upset spiders whose webs had been destroyed.

Tiberius woke up the next morning with a whimper. He glanced under the sheets and moaning. His penis was red and soft, so painful it hurt just to look at.

“Bring me wine!” he shouted as he tried to stand up. Even his legs, from all the humping he had done, were sore. He would need somebody to massage his leg muscles during breakfast and he was NOT looking forward to that.

The slaves tried to help him dress and shave but his mood this morning was as foul as the after taste in his mouth. Two of them were slapped for just making too much noise. Another was kicked for not bringing the wine cup fast enough.

He drained five cups of wine, making a mess of his tunic, before feeling slightly better. “And ice!” he snapped as he tossed the cup at one of the slaves. “A bag of ice, damn you.”

He was not looking forward to meeting all the whining businessmen, the begging clients, and the groveling lower class. His eyes balls throbbed and his hands felt a tad numb. Maybe he should find a doctor later that day?

“I will meet them in the garden today!”

He chewed some bread and tried to follow it up with some flavored water. It did little to clear his head and he smacked a few more slaves for being too loud when they brought him the list of guests waiting for him. Even the birds made too much noise. The sunlight also brought sweat to his forehead. Maybe meeting people in the garden had been a bad idea?

As he sat down in his backless chair and prepared to meet the first visitor of the day he wondered if he was pushing himself too much. And not just in the sex department. Maybe his plot to take over the planet was a tad too big for him to handle. Maybe he needed some helpers?

“Greetings!” shouted the first guest, a merchant from the olive oil Guild. “Greetings oh Great Roman Noble!” He was dressed in a simple brown robe and smelt of olive oil. Strong and syrupy.

“Yes, yes,” whispered Tiberius, gesturing with both his hands, releasing the list which slid down to the floor and rolled itself up. “Don’t shout so much…now, tell me your problems.”

The man smiled and silently showed Tiberius a ring on his finger.

Tiberius turned white and said, “Out! Everybody out! I am busy for the rest of the day. Send my clients and all other visitors away.”

Once the garden, and the surrounding peristyle, was empty but for Tiberius and the merchant the young Roman asked in a soft voice, “Who ARE you and why do you hold a ring of the Senate?”

“Special Agent of the Republic, sir,” said the man with a stronger voice, glancing about the house, standing up straighter. “And do not worry, we have already taken care of any hidden microphones.”

The man held out his ring again and also slipped a piece of paper out of his dusty robes to hand to Tiberius.

“Agent Marcus, sir, fresh from my mission in New India,” he said as his paperwork was examined by the young Roman Noble. “There we learned of a plot here on Planet Nile. By one of those religious cults.”

“How can I help you and the Senate?” said Tiberius with a nervous twitch of his face. “Surly you do not think…I am not involved…I can’t even keep the Gods straight in my head!”

“No, no, sir,” said Marcus with a smile. “We do not think you have anything to do with it. I am just here to ask for help. Is there anything you have noticed or heard of that may be a danger to the Royal Family?”

In fact, Marcus assumed that the idiot in the chair, known for drinking, fucking, and getting into trouble, was the least likely person to ask for help on the whole planet. But Tiberius Tullius WAS a member of a powerful family and to ignore him, to not at least ask for help, might be misunderstood as an insult towards the family. Special Agents of the Senate tried NOT to make enemies within the ranks of the Senate itself. Politics were one of the many balls that everybody in the Republic had to learn to juggle.

“No,” said Tiberius, his mind racing. When chased by hounds, he thought to himself, give them something else to chase. “No. But…”

“But?” repeated Marcus, trying to hide his surprise. This idiot son of Rome knew something? Well, he was in the Royal Court and had connections with a lot of the Guilds and Nobles of the city…maybe meeting him was not such a waste of time after all?

“There is a new Greek teacher for the Royal Family,” said Tiberius, tossing out the one name he knew might interest a Roman investigator. “Hector, an old friend of mine. You know Greek thinkers. They pretend to be loyal to Rome…”

Marcus nodded and said, “We’ll look into him. Any other names you can give us?”

Tiberius shrugged as he tried not to panic. We? How many agents were on the planet with this man? Had their mistaken his plots against the King as plots against Rome?

“Why such interest in the King,” said Tiberius. “I mean…the Planet Nile is not part of the Republic.”

“Not yet,” said Marcus as he wrote something down on a tiny notepad. “But the Republic will expand soon, the next wave of colony ships are already being built. And this will become a major stop on the way to the New Frontier. And if it become a major planet for Roman shipping it must do so under Rome’s control.”

“I see,” said Tiberius. “Anything else you need? Wine? A bath? I have some pretty female slaves?”

“No, sir,” said Marcus, barely able to find his disgust, “I have duty to Rome.”

Tiberius sighed to himself after Marcus had left.

“New Frontier?” he mumbled to himself as slaves brought him towels to wipe the sweat from his face and limbs. “Why do I always hear capitals in those words when somebody from Rome babbled about the New Frontier? Idiots. Bring me wine…no…water. And some cheese and grapes. I will have an early lunch.”

He chewed on his food and wondered how the Roman agents had removed the listening devices. When did they get into his house? And just because they had removed the King’s equipment did not mean they had not left equipment of their own.

Tiberius tried to calm himself down and think. Maybe he should give up on his plans?

“But can I?” he whispered to himself as he grabbed a passing slave by her hair and forced her to kneel on all fours, her face in his lap.

She knew what do to and as he sucked the juice out of grapes she sucked the seed out of his manhood. Sex had become a part of his daily life and, without really noticing it, had become as important as drinking wine or eating foods cooked in olive oil.