The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Tara sighed as she collapsed back on the park bench and allowed her entire body to crumble against the hard unyielding metal. She knew that that was the last place she should be, on that bench where she and her lover had first talked after meeting inside of the mall only a short walk away, where she had ridden along side her on the light rail just another short walk away, but she was nostalgic and sad. Her emotions overruled her good sense and she subjected herself to what she knew would be emotional trauma despite her own good sense.

“Sixteen months . . .” Her voice dripped from her lips fragile as a falling vase and cracked just the same as it dissolved mid thought. “This would have been twenty. Almost two years . . . but that’s not going to happen now . . .”

In front of her water rose from the ground in different patterns but she tried not to pay attention to it. Jake made the sweetest and the lewdest comments about the way the water rose from the ground.

She could remember it almost as if it were yesterday. To her it was only yesterday, even if that yesterday was almost two years ago she could remember it and feel the same memories and thoughts over again just as clearly as if it had been just the day before. For a moment that made her smile. It made her feel glowing and proud and full of love right before it made her sniffle and close her eyes tight.

They’d met in the video store on the second level. The name was something to do with the sun and a beach, and she knew she could remember if she tried but remembering was the last thing she wanted to do. Honestly remembering was the very first thing she wanted to do, but she knew that she shouldn’t.

Both of them had grabbed for the only copy of . . . of . . . Tara couldn’t remember. She really couldn’t remember and it made her feel so guilty to care so much for him but not remember all of the details that involved their meeting.

No matter which movie it was they had both grabbed for it at precisely the same time. Meetings like those were only supposed to happen in movies Tara had always thought, but when their fingers had met she knew why people could describe a startling, enchanting touch as “electric.” After the touch they’d fumbled with words, both of them insisting that the other take the film using the excuse they had already seen it to the point of memorizing nearly every line verbatim, though in Tara’s case it hadn’t been true.

Jake finally agreed that he would buy it but only if they watched it together. It seemed the only bargain that Jake would agree to so Tara accepted. They’d walked out with the movie, sat on the very same park bench Tara would sit on twenty months later, and talked until it was dark.

The only reason they’d left then was the bus schedule, and Tara had known it well enough to know that was just an excuse. After they’d left the light rail and bus routes must all have gone around at least another two times, but it was a happy excuse so she hadn’t minded. Once they were at Jake’s they’d watched the movie, and from there . . .

Tears welled up in Tara’s eyes and her hands balled up into fists around the bottom of her jean jacket. It was impossible not to remember the way he had described her hair as cinnamon, and her eyes as emeralds. She knew her hair was a dull brown and her eyes were much more teal than emerald, but from him she could believe it. She’d trusted the words, trusted him, and it had led her to nothing but pain.

Sixteen months later and she’d seen him at the same park bench. Tara had just been out running errands and was on her way back to Jake’s where she thought she’d curl up to him and as if they could watch their movie together, but instead he was French kissing some blonde slut.

She could feel the pieces of her heart shatter and blow away like an effect of time lapse photography.

All there was, was the bench. It was the only part of their relationship she could still trust. It was the same place that had both lifted her spirits, and brought them screaming back down to earth with a cataclysmic screech. In her heart it felt as if the bench was the only person she could trust. She still trusted her friends, but the men they tried to introduce her to were all so shifty and shady. She knew that her friends were better judges of character than that – she must have just been in a horrible funk – but she couldn’t bring herself to trust any of them long enough to even sit through a blind date.

Finally the tears were simply too numerous for her eyelids to hold back any longer. Like castle gates under siege her eyes tore half open and tears flooded down her face in a torrent of grief. Incoherent sounds babbled from her lips and she couldn’t stop no matter how hard she tried.

Tara was so lost in her tears that she didn’t even half notice as the dark haired woman cautiously approached her. “I can’t make your pain go away . . . but would you mind if I tried to help?”

“Help . . .?” She looked up to the stranger and her voice half cracked as she tried to speak. Her vision was muddled by tears and the squint of her eyes but even so she could make out enough of the woman to be startled. The woman’s exotic dark blue eyes seemed to cut through her tears and made it easier to regain control of her voice. “I . . . I really don’t know how you could, but . . . I’m not going to tell you to go away . . .”

“Good! I’m very glad. If you’d told me to leave I would have had to leave or I would have never forgiven myself, but I can tell how deeply you’re hurt and . . . a scarred heart is not something that I could ignore without feeling guilty about it for years to come.” The woman sat beside her and smiled, though it was a forced smile. Those blue eyes looked almost ready to cry at the sight of Tara’s pain.

It was hard for Tara to puzzle out why this woman would or should give a damn about some random woman crying at a park bench in the middle of summer. People sat at the other benches, long black metallic monstrosities, but none had been sitting on her bench.

Once she’d recovered enough to speak Tara tested her voice following a particularly loud sniffle. “You know, you don’t have to say things like that . . . it’s okay. I’ll forgive you enough for both of us if you want to go.”

“Nonsense!” Her response was one full of passion and flame that if literal would be more than enough to turn the nearby water into vapor. “I’m not about to leave . . . at least not yet. There’s something very special I keep around just for broken hearts like you. Yours is not as much a broken heart, as a broken faith in love. How can you let yourself heal if you think that your heart - that love itself has betrayed you? I know that I wouldn’t want to heal . . . So you need something, someone, that you can trust to make all of that better.”

“Let me guess . . . someone like you?” If the woman was a lesbian, that by itself did not bother Tara. The fact that if the woman was a lesbian that would make her current actions flirting did bother Tara. She didn’t want anyone flirting with her or even anyone finding her beautiful at all.

Straight, bi, gay, it all came down to romantic (or physical) intimacy and Tara didn’t want any of that. She’d already put her heart on her sleeve (or where her sleeve had been before her top had hit the floor) and gotten burned. It wasn’t the first time, but it was going to be the last time. Just the thought of this strange woman trying to put the moves on her made some deep part of her twitch and frown.

“No! No, of course not!” Laughter both genuine and infectious melted from perfectly full lips as the strange woman reached through her purse. “Your love is not with me, and mine isn’t with you . . . but that’s not important right now, is it? What’s important right now is . . . a-ha!”

Her hand pulled itself from her purse, and under those coiled fingers was the long and thorn-less stem of a yellow rose. Each petal was yellow as the sun or a crayon right from a box of only the most basic color. Under that familiar coloring was the even more familiar shape of a rose. Tara’s tears started to flow faster again and she tried to stifle them with loud sniffling. Roses were permanently tied with love in her mind, and even if she was sure that a yellow rose didn’t mean love, she remembered the handful of red roses that Jake had picked up for her on Valentine’s Day.

Radiant blue eyes quivered and the rose quivered much the same. Instead of looking upset or defeated those mysteriously vibrant blue eyes looked truly concerned. Tara found it impossible to keep suspecting the woman of poor intent, but she was still rather sure the woman could learn a thing or twelve about timing.

Tara’s eyes traced the contour of each yellow petal delicately as she tried to rationalize what felt like a nearly impossible situation. “Rose.”

“Rose?” A brief fit of sniffles interrupted Tara but she quickly recovered. “I can tell it’s a rose. I’ve never seen a rose quite look like that, but . . . I can tell it’s a rose. No other flower looks quite . . . quite like a rose . . .”

“But by any other name they would be just as sweet. Myself, however? Rose is my name. I’m not sure if I would be diminished if my name were Diane or Leanne, but I like to think that my name is a special one. I’ve made a sort of motif out of my name that seems to be rather popular, so I guess that a Rose by any other name would need to come up with some other reason for her affinity with the flower.”

Tara forced herself to smile even if she didn’t really feel it and it didn’t go to her eyes. She hoped it would at least bring some satisfaction to Rose, but instead there was more concern in her deep and expressive blue eyes. It seemed almost amusing to Tara that a woman who loved roses so much and even shared would have no coloration but clothing that matched up her floral kin. Her cheeks weren’t even rosy but a beautiful shade of pale white.

Still, her elegance (if not eccentricity) did seem to fit a name like Rose. “Introductions like that are much more amusing when you’re not full of tears, admittedly . . .”

“Yeah . . . I bet . . .” She tried not to sound sad, but it was impossible. “So . . . why the rose . . .? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a yellow one. I mean, I know there are yellow roses, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen one in person before.”

“Red, pink, white . . . that’s all most people concern themselves with. Love, lust, purity . . . not that pink means lust, but we both know why most roses are given.” Rose extended her hand, holding out the yellow flower with a hopeful smile. “This rose, however. . . . It carries a much higher purpose than petty desire. Yellow is often the color associated with fear, and it is only from the kiln of fear that true courage and bravery are born. . . There is nothing more frightening than vulnerability, and love makes the heart vulnerable.”

Confusion covered Tara’s face and distracted her from her tears. They still rested just against her eyes but their number was lessening instead of growing. Rose was so disarming and her unnaturally casual but solemn nature made it nearly impossible to worry of ulterior motives.

It felt as if Rose was simply too pure, too innately good of a woman to doubt or mistrust.

Gently Tara’s fingers curled around the notably thornless stem and pulled the rose towards her nose. Before she could inhale Rose’s voice interrupted her and she stopped to listen. “This rose is a little gift from me to you . . . something to help you find the courage hidden under your fear, and from that courage . . . love. Sadly I’m a rather busy woman and unable to help you any further, but . . . here, here’s my card. If after today you still feel horrible, call me. Or don’t, but know that I’ll be waiting either way.”

“Thanks . . .” Rose began to stand and Tara found herself actually wanting her to stay. It made her feel confused but not in an unpleasant way. Did she really already feel good enough to actually enjoy someone’s company so soon? It felt hardly good enough to be true, but it had to be.

“You’re welcome, you and your beautiful soul both. May you find happiness . . .” Without another word Rose waved her hand, turned on the balls of her feet and walked away.

In one hand Tara held the woman’s card and in the other she held the rose that’s color looked lovingly applied by a brush that dipped into the sun itself. There was a vibrant and glowing warmth to the color and just holding the flower in her hand made Tara feel somehow stronger, somehow more solid. A part of her was unsure what she should do or if she should do anything at all until her nose dipped into the parted solar petals and inhaled.

Her lips quivered apart as she gasped, instantly trapped by the unique smell of the flower. She could feel it melting over her like a warm mist and where it spread it tingled. From her nose it went at first higher, across her eyes and along the curves of her upper cheeks. As the mist passed over her eyes for just a brief moment they took the color of the flower before returning to their own shade.

Once it reached her scalp it melted down, through her and over her, along the delicate curves of her neck, the slender length of her arms, but when it reached her chest it stopped.

Inside both her chest and her eyes she could feel the mist twisting, swirling, and warming her. The sensation was so much like curling up next to a fire but at the same time the feeling of laying in the light of the sun on an almost too hot summer’s day. She could feel the heat and the mist pulse as her heart did, and she could just imagine a yellow sparkling mist of pollen and ethereal glow sliding around and through her heart when it skipped a beat.

Her eyes shined yellow again as she inhaled deeper with a long and slow whimper. There was no thought of putting down the flower or resisting whatever strange power was taking hold inside of her. Against her yellow eyes the tears melted away and the tight feeling her chest previously held melted with it.

Water that should have been moving before her eyes, the streams that spouted up from the metal not too far from her park bench, instead were frozen solid. Time froze as the heat pulsed through her mind, and the name that had caused her so much grief felt like it was being burned and seared away by the sun in her eyes, in her mind, the hot irresistible cleansing heat of the yellow scent.

Another faint gasp and a tender shudder followed. Tara’s fingers could barely keep the rose there, but the next pulse of her heart caused her hand to tighten without her intervention. Away from time, away from herself, Tara could feel the yellow soothing away her sorrow and replacing it with a passion, a drive, a . . .

She couldn’t name it, not until the yellow named the feeling that was overpowering her. There was too much to take in. All of the raw need that had festered since her loss attacked her at once. Her thighs clenched so hard they almost turned white as the knuckles that held the sweet rose, and parted when the yellow washed down over the rest of her body. The yearnings to be held, to be touched, to be kissed, to be loved were all too much to hold inside. The urge to be with another, to have another, that meant more than life itself was overpowering.

For a moment her pupils pulsed yellow, and the color melted out into her irises without fading away. Bright as the sun it burned into her thoughts. Every bit of light the world shined towards her face was filtered through the yellow that hummed inside of her eyes.

Tara could feel the strength inside of herself, the hidden willpower, the perseverance. With a moan she dropped the flower into her lap and time resumed.

Water fell. Sounds that she hadn’t realized had been temporarily muted screamed back into being far louder for their absence. The yellow in her eyes faded, but only lightly, and stained her once emerald eyes a darkly beautiful shade of peridot. She stashed the card into her jacket, and grasped the rose anew before she stood with a dull but meltedly warm smile.

Her fear was gone. Her worry was gone. What had happened was for the best. It had shown her what to look out for, and through that what to look for. She knew what she had to do.

Turning away from the park bench, her lips slowly curled into a more and more satisfied smile as she made her way towards the mall. As she passed under the white rose on the sign that perched above the entrance to her favorite mall she gently caressed Rose’s business card.

Her thighs clenched as she thought of Rose’s dark eyes, darker hair, and brighter skin. She was worth taking a chance on. She was worth risking everything for. Opening up to her was just natural.

Before she did that, she knew there was woman she needed to save from suffering Rose had only just saved her from.

It had been hard to wait but Tara knew it was for the best. She’d grabbed a bite to eat in the food court and looked through a few book stores but her mind hadn’t fallen away from the sway of that sweet yellow urging. Every time someone had smiled at her, she’d smiled back and even smiled unprompted to some. It wasn’t as if she could stop smiling, but she was capable of forcing her smile to shine brighter.

The only thing that she couldn’t possibly intensify would be the shine in her eyes.

Some time later, she slowly made her way back through the appliances, clothes, and utensils that lined the way to her exit. If the yellow was right, and she knew that it was, the woman who needed her would need her soon.

Just as she stepped to the edge of the sidewalk, the signal changed and she walked gracefully across. Still in her hand was the flower, and she glowed at knowing its gift to her. Tara knew that Rose must have known what the flower would do, that it would make her feel alive again, and she would thank her. It was hard not to be distracted by the thought of thanking Rose until her smile turned into a face twisted by moans and melted smiles alike, but she somehow managed to make her way back to the park bench.

The path directly from the mall would have brought her towards the park bench from behind, so instead she took the long way around the edge of the park and walked back through the middle towards that special seat.

Sitting there just where she was when Tara’s heart had broken was a beautiful woman with pixie cut hair colored a darkly golden shade of dirty blonde. Her tanned skin looked so beautiful in the fading sunlight of the descending evening that Tara had to hold back a melted gasp. As melted as the rose made Tara, it also made her focus on her task as well as realize just how delicate it was.

A few feet in front of the blonde Tara stopped and simply looked over her. She was dressed in faded blue jeans and a white t-shirt with the words “insert cliché phrase here” in black. The white hugged the generous curves of her body, and the light blue highlighted her long legs.

On her feet, she wore sandals that revealed her purple toenails.

The woman didn’t react at first. She had been staring off into space and though it had been in Tara’s direction she hadn’t noticed her arrival. In her mind she was busy thinking about her own special day on that park bench four months ago, and it took a contented sigh from the cinnamon-haired woman to draw her attention.

As soon as she realized Tara had been standing in front of her for an indeterminate amount of time she looked up towards her face and raised a curious eyebrow. “Can I help . . . you . . .?”

Her voice stopped dead in her once their eyes locked. Instantaneously she could see and feel the shine inside of Tara’s luminous eyes and the will to worry enough to interrupt the moment with words melted away as the swirled yellow and green took its place. Before the light began to shine into her eyes, invisible to all but herself and the woman standing over her, her eyes had been a bright blue. Now, as the colors melted into her, they began to shine the same color as the other woman’s.

“Yes . . . yes you can . . .” Tara smiled and leaned closer, strengthening the glow in both of their eyes as she set down the rose and took the other woman’s soft hands in her own. “Tell me your name . . .”

“Samra . . . My name is Samra . . .” Her voice was nearly silent and her lips barely moved but Tara could hear every sound as if it had been whispered right into her ear. Samra wasn’t even sure she’d spoken. All that she could hear as things seemed to stop was Tara’s breathing and the beat of Tara’s heart between her eyes.

She didn’t know what the feeling was or what it meant, but she felt safe and vulnerable under Tara’s gaze. It felt like she was spreading her legs and shyly pulling her arms away from her bare chest but inside of her own mind. The idea itself felt so strange but she found herself unable to question it as her heart began to flutter and she let out a soft needy mewl.

Before she knew how it got there a hand began caressing Samra’s cheek and she felt her whole being, her whole self being lost within that one precious moment. Tara’s eyes shining into hers were full of nothing but love and it made her feel so open and craving as her own eyes turned glassy.

Tara smiled and leaned in closer until she felt the tips of their noses touch. She’d never felt such fulfillment as she felt in that moment gazing so deeply into Samra’s eyes. It was impossible to feel sad now. “The man you’re with . . . I met him on this bench, too . . . and he said everything just right, made me feel so beautiful . . . and then I found him here with you. Until today that made me hate you, it made me want to scream and pull your hair, and a lot of other mean things too . . . but now, I just realize that he’d do the same to you, and I had to stop him from hurting you. You’re too beautiful for that, too kind for that . . .”

Even if Tara had never seen her before in her life she would know that. Something in the yellow, something in her, whispered things that she never could have known and made it impossible not to see all of the beauty in her soul.

She knew all of the times Samra had worried the same worries she had, all of the moments she lay awake dreading this or that, the time she spent making others smile . . .

None of it was solid, none of it was specific, but it was enough and that was all that it had to be. None of the specifics mattered. The meanings behind them did.

Samra moaned as she felt another bright pulse of the bright and strong yellow pour over her and sizzle in the depths of her mind as the strength she felt in Tara’s eyes melted away her doubt and her inhibitions. Her purple toenails shined as her toes curled and the two sets split apart, legs following so that Tara could lean her knees on the bench.

Feeling the heat of Tara’s body closer made the heartbeat in Samra’s ears grow louder and she groaned in helplessness as she felt it overcome her. Admiration and adoration filled every thought and soaked the cotton under her jeans.

“Let me save you from that . . . Let me take you away from here . . . Let me give you love . . . All you have to do is accept it . . .” Inside of her mind Tara purred. It felt so good to realize that she didn’t need to wait for something to come to her and take away her pain. Giving love gave her love in return and she already felt more complete. It had made her vulnerable to take the chance on Samra, and it was paying off.

It seemed that not only fortune favored the bold.

Samra just sighed and let her head slowly nod on it’s own. “I . . . I want it . . . I feel it, I . . . want you . . .” They were her words, the words of her soul, but she could barely think well enough to feel them much less express them. Every part of her felt so thankful that the yellow would give her the freedom of expression.

“Then close your eyes . . . and I’ll give you all of me . . .” When Samra’s eyes closed, Tara had never felt so complete in her life. “Now . . . I’ll take you home.”

The way to Tara’s home was a sea of yellow for the both of them. They’d ridden the light rail and walked the short way led by the yellow, but they didn’t recall it. The only thing they remembered about how they went from the park bench to Tara’s bed was that their eyes hadn’t broken apart the entire time.

Hands clumsily pulled at clothes as the yellow undressed them both, and then lips found lips. Every time their lips melted together in a new kiss more of that sweet color burst in both of them hardening some flesh and making other places damp.

“I’ve never needed anyone like I need you!” Samra whimpered as one of Tara’s hands cupped her mound, and the other slid up along the curves of her stomach to grasp and knead at a breast.

“I need you too, so much!” Their lips melted together again as the yellow entwined their legs and sent Samra’s hands down along Tara’s back to grasp the tender glistening curves just above the backs of her quivering thighs.

Lips moved apart and traveled across necks, hands across backs and sides as hips rolled and thighs clenched pulsing yellow deep inside of their warmest and deepest places. Ethereal gold streamed along every crevice of their minds as much as it pulsed with their desire and laced through the both of them binding them tighter and tighter together until there was no separation between the yellow in Tara and the yellow in Samra.

Screams tore through the room as hands desperately clung and lips quivered unable to do anything but part as the sounds tore from betwixt them.

It was instantaneous and yet eternal as their releases tore through both of their bodies at once in perfect unison. The separation between their pleasure was nearly nonexistent, but their thoughts were the same. Love, bliss, and the afterglow of a yellow sun shining in their hearts as their chests rested close.

“I love you . . .” Whispered one of them or both, neither of them could be sure. “I love you too . . .” Just to be certain they both responded, and their lips were melted together again when their eyes closed and yellow dreams melted them away from the reality of their new love and into the surreality of interlinked dreams.

When they woke, their legs were still together, and their lips were only mere inches apart. The yellow was gone from their eyes but it only took a moment before their lips met as if it were the first time all over again with the same curiosity and gentle worry.

“I . . . I’ve never done that before . . .” Samra very gently whispered after their lips parted. She was completely unable to hide the gentle fear from her voice.

“Neither have I, but it felt so right. I just knew that I couldn’t let him do that to you too, and I could just feel you in a way I’ve never felt anyone. I had to do what I did, and I hope that you don’t regret it.” Tara felt worried, but somehow it didn’t quite feel solid. Her arms wrapped tighter around her lover and she gently pressed her body closer quivering at the warmth it sent through her.

Blonde hair lightly stirred as Samra shook her head and smiled with exhausted eyes. “I’ve never regretted anything less in my life! There’s so much I want to know about you . . .”

Tara grinned as she slowly shifted and pinned Samra down against the bed with her body. “We have all day. I don’t plan on getting out of this bed until it’s dark again . . .” Both of their lips curved into smiles that soon melted into another kiss.

Their day was full of pillow talk and deeper introductions than either of them had ever imagined needing to give, and the rest of their days were filled with each other.