The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Nikki never came home last night. Tasha, Leigh, nor Heather had even heard from her. It’s hard to focus on anything else when that looms overhead but I have to. Sarah is counting on me. Zandra is counting on me. Perhaps most important of all Aurora is counting on me.

Just sleeping with Aurora after such a long absence felt so strange. I fell asleep cuddling a fully dressed Silver Girl. The uniform does look amazingly cute on her, oddly shaped cape and all, but I can’t say I wasn’t itching to rip it off all night. Her skin underneath is even more cute. It’s a lot softer, too. But I resisted, because I knew that we both needed our rest. We only barely had enough time to sleep, shower, and dress before Zandra showed back up.

If Nikki decides to drop by she’ll at least find a note letting her know where we went. She can’t follow us and that’s probably a good thing. If she’d been there she would have wanted to go with us. Witches are a bit out of her league.

I’m sure that they won’t be forever, but in the meantime it’s best she stay far far away from a world populated by people who make Sarah look like she was lazy about learning the ins and outs of her powers.

I suggested to Aurora that we might try to get some backup. Katie was pretty angry that we didn’t talk to her the last time I saw her . . . but Aurora insisted there wasn’t time. I almost argued this was the same sort of thing that made the bowling alley turn so bad, but she’s right. The timing is very important, and there’s no way we could get everyone we’d want to bring with us together quickly enough. We’ll have to be enough. If Zandra thinks we can do this, the we can do this.

As she promised, Zandra instructed is on what we needed to do. She gave us the necessary supplies and went over the explanation so thoroughly that at the time I was sure I could recite everything in my sleep. That might have been unfair, but I do remember the gist of everything. The most important thing will be getting this done quickly while alerting as few people as possible.

Now that its just me and Aurora, in a strange building neither of us have ever been inside of before, I’d be lying if I didn’t say my confidence was wavering ever so slightly.

It’s hard to believe that we’re in a basement. The ceiling is so far overhead. Held up by impossibly long columns, the ceiling is the same smooth opalescent stone as the floor and the walls. We aren’t stepping directly on it however, as the walkways between the large bookshelves and display cases are lined with a rich purple velvety carpet that reminds me of an award ceremony.

While the display cases made of platinum, gold, and metals that I couldn’t guess at with glass panels aren’t much taller than maybe two of me, the bookshelves seem infinitely taller. They don’t quite meet the ceiling high above, and I imagine with a bird’s eye view one could see all of the twisting and tangled paths well enough to make some sense of it. We can both fly, and it is more than tempting to lift off and get a better view of where we’re going, Zandra made it very clear that even if this maze is empty, every Warden in the realm would be on us in no time.

“This is a lot of books. Like, a lot a lot of books. Zandra wasn’t kidding when she said that this place has been here for a long time, was she?” Aurora is leading the way as we move towards the center of this impossibly large room. Zandra insisted we try to stay focused on the task at hand without focusing on the next steps, something about the magic that makes it possible to get around without getting lost. It doesn’t make much sense to me, but magic doesn’t usually ask me how it should work.

“Well you remember what she said right? Every book they’ve ever been able to get their hands on, every translation, with entire shelves designed just to transcribe and recreate books found across our world and maybe even others. I bet most of it is redundant. Wonder if they have any books about me . . .” It would only make sense if they did. After all, I’m the daughter of the Light Bearer who sacrificed herself to end Red and the Nesatealia’s stranglehold on this world. If I’m not in any of these books then this library doesn’t have its priorities straight. Hopefully they’d have something about my singing career, too.

Most of the display cases have odd trinkets in them like jewelry or a rune and gemstone covered weapon some of them are empty. There are so many of these cases that there’s a chance they were never filled to begin with but it makes a part of me feel nervous. If this “Rust” or one of her agents has been here before there’s no telling what could be waiting for us.

Even with all of Zandra’s warnings and preparations I don’t feel like I know nearly enough to know what to expect. Each time we have a chance to look down adjacent corridors no ones there to be seen. She insisted that looking each time was still important, but its hard to keep up the practice when there’s never anyone there.

Aurora stops abruptly at an intersection. She looks down both adjoining cooridors and lets out a heavy sigh. “It feels like we’ve been in here forever. You’re sure she said that we needed to take the longest way possible to get to the center, right? Because it would be a whole heck of a lot easier to look for a shortcut, or just fly over. Maybe if we were really quick it wouldn’t matter. Why even send us for this? Couldn’t she have asked absolutely anyone to do this? This is just . . . boring.”

“You know that. Why would you even ask that? If we could fly or take a shortcut we’d be there by now.” I sight and wrap my arms around Aurora from behind, pressing a quick kiss to the back of her head. “She needs us because we’re LaSilvases and this place will respond to our magic. She can’t trust anyone else who can do this not to be working for Rust already.”

Without even walking I can feel the energies in this place reaching out to me. It wants to be helpful. It wants to guide us to where we want to go. There isn’t sentience to it, more a purpose. It’s like a very friendly computer program made of magic.

Sighing Aurora nods and walks to the right, in the same direction that’s tugging me. “I know, I know. The LaSilvases are part of the council, so there’s a really good chance that Rust would go after all of them first. This is just not something that feels like it needs anyone special. I guess it helps that we want to find mom . . . but this is just rediculous!”

“I know, Aurora, I know. Just keep walking. Besides, it’s a chance to look cute in your Silver Girl uniform, right?” I wish her cape were just a few inches shorter. It sways with her steps, but that means half the time I’m looking at white cloth instead of white shorts tightly clutching her firm butt. Eventually I might need to learn a bit of clothing magic just so I can shorten it without her noticing. I don’t think she’d mind.

No one else would, either. Everything about her uniform is just so delightful. Fingerless gloves, those boots that make her legs look so yummy, the way that the mantle of her cape looks like it’s pointing down at her cleavage, all of it is just so delicious. Thankfully its different enough from mom’s Silver Girl costume that I don’t need to worry about that angle.

The longer we’re here, the easier it is to feel that magic reaching through me. It’s hard to know if I’m getting more used to the magic, or if it’s getting more used to me. I can feel it moving along my legs as I follow behind Aurora. It takes my hand, and then the other, making the way forward that much simpler. It’s just a matter of focusing on the goal and letting the magic guide us.

It almost feels like sleepwalking. With nothing else to see, nothing else to think about, it’s just one foot, then the other and that warm magic. Focusing on it a little more intensely, letting my mind open to the feeling, it’s less like its embracing me, and more like it’s reaching in deeper as though all the places my magic can flow are doorways for its warm ethereal presence. I almost feel like a glove, but gloves don’t move like this. Maybe its more like a pair of boots, clicking their way towards that staircase.

As boring as this is, just walking, just focusing, it is nicer and nicer the more that presence slips inside of me. Its easier to concentrate on the task at hand. It’s easier to feel it pulling me along. It’s easier to just sort of . . . surrender to it.

Aurora hasn’t turned around in awhile. She still stops at every junction, looking before following along the invisible path, but so do I. Whatever is riding inside of me, guiding me, it wants what I want. Or I want what it wants. Its harder to feel my legs moving but its easier to feel that power filling me. I can almost taste it moving past my lips, and hear it moving into my ears.

I’m not really walking anymore. Its all so much sweeter, so much simpler, when all I need to do is feel it moving me. Where I want to go is all that matters. Countless books move past me, countless priceless artifacts, but all that really matters is the goal. Movement. Movement that I don’t even need to concern myself with.

It’s so close now, Sylvia. Let me take you there.

I can hear it between my thoughts now. Hear? No it’s . . . feel. I can feel it between my thoughts. It’s not a sound. It’s just fact. Words that weren’t there before. Thoughts that weren’t there before. Something about it is so feminine, and undeniably erotic. The more I feel that presence growing inside of me the more places I can feel it. Almost like fingers between my legs, and like a sensation I’ve never felt before as it makes my breasts feel heavy and . . . full.

Can you feel the inside of your breasts? I normally don’t, not like this, but now it’s impossible not to. It’s so warm. I can feel it tingle between my eyes making everything feel just a little fuzzier and warmer.

More. I want more. It feels so good.

Let me take you there, Sylvia.

How long have we been walking in this maze? I want to just think “yes” over and over again and rub into these feelings, but arching and twisting doesn’t feel like it’s anything that I need to do. Maybe I could, but I don’t want to try. We were supposed to focus on getting there, and make that the most important thought.

At this rate the only place I’m moving towards is orgasm. Fingers twine between mine and I don’t need to look to know they aren’t really there. Magic. The magic guiding me is in control.

Let me take you, Sylvia.

It’s not an option to respond. Yes. I want it. I need that magic to take me. I need to be where it wants to take me. I need it more than I’ve ever needed anything before.

I need it more than I needed . . . needed . . .

Sylvia.

Without a sound as small as a gasp, or a misstep as faint as a quickened pace my panties are ruined.

This is all for Sarah. That’s what I keep reminding myself each time we turn another corner just to find more and more of the same. Who could ever need this many damn books?! I can see the magical things in the display cases. This is one of those places where you hide away things you either can’t or don’t want to destroy for whatever reason. I get that. But there’s no way having fifty translations of each edition of a book would ever come in handy.

Unless finding typos gives you some kind of special powers I don’t see how that could ever be helpful. Now that I’ve said it I’m sure that it works for someone.

Fucking magic.

Every time I get tempted to kick off and fly over a bookshelf, since it looks like there’s plenty of clearance (and way more than enough over some of the smaller display cases) I just remind myself how little I’d like to get in a fight with even two people with half of the tools Zandra had at her disposal. I don’t think I’d stand a chance. I’d rather save my trump card for Rust, too.

I look behind me and Sylvia shares a sweet little smile with me. Sigh. That makes this worth it. Well, it makes it easier. Saving mom is what makes all of this worth it. I just need to keep remembering how big of a deal that point of motivation has been for us both.

Midas City will finally get its real Silver Girl back.

Does that mean I’ll cut my hair and move back out to California? I’d be more likely to cut my hair and move to New York. I wonder what heroism is like in the big apple. How many times could I call it that before I annoyed a native? Would throwing apples at criminals to stop them in their tracks be funny even once? Is their pizza really that awesome?

After so long of walking past so many books what’s getting harder is not picking one up and giving it a read. Zandra made it very clear that while this place wasn’t dangerous on its own some of the things here could be even without any defensive spells worked into them. I’d need a lot more training to know what was safe and what wasn’t. That’s doing absolutely nothing for my patience.

I hope we aren’t taking too long. Zandra said she’s trapped into loyalty to the council. If Leora is working for Rust and she figures out what we’re up to she won’t be able to slow them down. What would they even do to her? I can’t imagine anything good.

This is one hell of a first visit. I should have never stopped asking Sarah and Lida. Eventually one of them would have caved. Maybe I should have come here instead of going across the country.

I wouldn’t have met Hope, but . . . no, what I did was the best thing I could have done.

Even counting Hope.

I turn down another hallway and sigh. Trying to find my way to the middle is one thing, but I keep imagining what it must be like to actually try finding a book down here. Maybe they have an official librarian? Otherwise, this place would be hellish to explore in search of a thing. Maybe if we didn’t take the special Warden-only way in it wouldn’t be quite so bad?

“So Sylvia, do you think they have any books on us?” I stop and look up along a shelf. Just for a moment. “I mean they’d have to have one or two, right?” She doesn’t answer. I blink, stopping at another edge of a bookshelf. “Sylvie?”

She doesn’t respond again.

When I turn around, she isn’t there. Shit! Zandra didn’t mention anything like this! “Sylvia! Sylvie! Nebby . . . Where are you?!” I try to retrace my steps, taking that same turn back and sure enough there she is. Halfway down the makeshift corridor of shelves and display cases. She’s stopped in front of a display case, her hands resting over the glass. “Sylvia! You know Zandra told us we had to leave these alone! Anything that we do besides follow along to the middle might tip off the Wardens, or . . . Sylvia, are you even listening to me?”

Her eyes are glued on the display case. I don’t even think she hears me. This is really, really bad. Should I pull her away from the case, or . . . I hate magic! I prefer problems I can punch.

Pulling her away might be bad. Getting closer, I can see that resting inside of the display case is a golden tiara featuring a gorgeous ruby in a diamond shape in a place that I guess would normally rest in the center of the wearer’s forehead. It’s probably a bad thing that its glowing and pulsing red.

I wave my hand in front of her face and she doesn’t even blink. Seeing her face in the glass of the case’s reflection is more than a little scary. A spec of the red light from the gem is shining in the center of her pupils, and it’s . . . growing.

There’s not a whole lot of options in a situation like this. We might already be fucked. I grab at Sylvia’s shoulder and try to pull her away from the case. Sylvia isn’t weak by any stretch of the imagination but she doesn’t use her body as much as I do. Even metal I can’t pull her away.

Sylvia starts moving her hands for the edges of the glass. Something tells me letting her get her hands on the tiara when her pupils are completely red is bad. The red light is already starting to spread out over her irises! I wrap both of my arms around one of her own, but still somehow she’s moving it like a metal woman weighs nothing. I haven’t put on any weight in forever that wasn’t muscle but this is just ridiculous! “Sylvie! Ugh, fine, if I can’t brute force you away . . .”

Using my powers on her when she’s already in a tricky situation didn’t sound like a good idea. I shouldn’t need to pull out all the stops, but I have to try to stop her any way I can. My current flows down her arm easily enough, but then it hits . . . something. I can almost taste red through my powers, but I usually don’t . . . taste using those.

It’s so distracting that I don’t even notice her fist enveloped in red light until it slams right into my cheek and sends me up into the air. Being more durable than I am strong means that being flung by a good left hook has happened more times than I can remember. It’s happened enough times that I actually remember that I can fly before I slam back into the bookshelf at the end of the corridor.

That doesn’t save me any when she holds out her other hand, and another pulse of red moves so fast I’m crumpled under a heap of books before I even see the light get close. Thankfully the shelf doesn’t crash over ontop of me, but enough very heavy books fall to make up for it. Some of them have metal in the spines, if not the entire front and back cover!

Breaking glass is a very distinct sound. I shove the books away as quick as I can, but there are so many of them. It’s too heavy for me to just fly up and have the pile fall away. Ugh! If the Wardens have any kind of security set up they know we’re here now for sure!

By the time I’m out of the pile, Sylvia is resting the tiara over her head. Her eyes are a bright throbbing red and that same color is pulsing along the nebula that’s flowing out around her. Whatever is inside that tiara there’s no doubt that it has control of Sylvia. Unfortunately, there’s also no doubt that it’s powerful.

Her lips part, but I can’t understand what she’s saying. It sounds almost Spanish. Maybe Italian? That would make sense, LaSilvases and all. She holds out her other hand towards me, and when the red slams into me again it hits between my eyes.

Red . . . dark, smothering, red . . . Hot, dizzying, pulsing, warm red . . .

Hard to think with how heavy that red feels . . . its like it’s trying to burrow inside of me, fill me with that dark, dizzy, overwhelming . . . feels so hot, can feel my nipples tingling inside of my top, feel my slit tingling and . . .

I grit my teeth and shake my head as hard as I can. It works, or something close to it, but by the time I’m free of that red it just means I’m ready to see it when she grabs me up by my cape to throw me down the hallway I came from to find her. Smarter this time, another bolt of red slams into me while I’m still moving through the air.

Red . . . powerful . . . passionate, dominating red . . .

Lustful, overpowering red, meant to be in control . . . meant to be surrendered to . . . meant to be obeyed . . . it makes me feel so wet, makes my breath come quicker, makes me feel like I could cum if this feeling kept up for just a little longer but . . .

It’s not enough, not enough by it’s own to melt everything away for long. My vision is filled with big red splotches, but they fade if I blink my eyes quickly enough. Either Sylvia is holding it back, or it’s not strong enough to stop me. As fun as it would be to be dominated by Sylvia in the middle of a gigantic library part of that involves Sylvia actually being Sylvia. Being melted by some tiara is hardly something I’d consider sexy.

Okay, normally wouldn’t consider sexy. That red glow filling her eyes as it makes the ruby on her tiara glow should be scary, but knowing how good it felt makes that a little bit harder to internalize. Damn it!

She starts to speak again. Still doesn’t make any sense. Whatever is controlling her must not know how to speak English. Convenient. That probably means that it can’t try to seduce me using her voice and other feminine whiles and the star of cleavage her shirt teases me with.

This time when Sylvie holds out her hand I don’t wait for the red light. I fly up, not high enough to be over the bookshelves or even the lower display cases, and tackle Sylvia into the pile of books.

Again she speaks in unintelligible something as she screams and flails. I can’t even guess what it is she’s trying to say. It’s made one hell of a lot harder when she wraps her arms and legs around me, and claws that red hot feeling . . . I just need to hold on, need to . . .

Red . . . all down my back, tearing apart my mind, pouring, dripping inside . . .

It’s like her hands are reaching inside of me, filling me with that red, crawling inside of me, making me . . . just another vessel . . . that’s all she is, just another vessel . . . metal vessel, meant to serve the red . . . to obey that hot, pulsing, overwhelming . . . slick . . . hot . . . passionate . . .

Reaching for that red, the brightest red, so hot, just reaching near it makes my thighs clench and my pussy drool . . . Need to focus past it, on how good it feels, on taking a hold of that red . . . Grasping it in my hand . . . Squeezing that hot . . . Pulsing . . . Overpowering . . .

Glass has a pretty distinct sound with it shatters, but it still sounds a lot like when a ruby does.

The red in Sylvia’s eyes shatters, falling out of her eyes just like the chunks of ruby falling out of my hands. “Aurora, I’m so sorry! It was just, I was just walking and—”

Off in the distance is another unmistakable sound: footsteps. Quick, frantic footsteps. “Save it, Sylvia! Someone’s coming! I think we’re close, the junctions are getting quicker! Take my hand!” I wouldn’t be surprised if her arm was sore with how hard I yank her up to her feet before running. Zandra said that we wouldn’t get there without tipping off the Wardens if we didn’t take the long way, but I don’t think we can do that now.

Running through the library, legs burning as I pull Sylvia with me, I remember a little something Sarah did once tell me about magic. Yana had a book once that Sarah burned in a sink, and apparently the way you’d find a given spell or was by thinking of it and letting the book guide your hand. This place must use the same general magical theory.

“We need to stop them!” A woman’s voice echoes through the books. Crap. There’s definitely more than two of them here, and they’re getting nearer. From every direction I can hear boots on carpet. If they get to us before we can get to the staircase this is over.

“There, Aurora, there!” I’m running so fast I almost make a wrong turn. Stupid me I stopped focusing on the goal. Sylvia desperately points to the center of the room where at the center of an otherwise barren circular section of floor is a hatch. Made of silver, or maybe platinum, it almost reminds me of a basement entrance you might see in a movie. It’s lined with gems, intricate sigils making it look fancier than almost anything I’ve ever seen before in my life.

Falling to the floor beside the hatch we both struggle to find how to get in. The stairs are just on the other side! If we can get through then Zandra said we’d be safe. Their magic can’t follow us in there. It’s protected from them as much as the council is.

My hands move across the hatch, but it doesn’t seem to have any handle. That’s really the one thing separating it from looking more like one of those old style ways into an old creaky basement. At the center of the hatch is a stylized eye that looks a lot like the small piece of metal mom always carried around. What did she call it . . . an Eye of Athena?

Sylvia’s hand rests over mine, and suddenly when she pushes down into the iris its clear that the pupil has the latch. Her fingers hook into it and lift it open. “I will be so glad when we’re all done worrying about magic!”

“You and me both, sis!” Just like we were promised the hatch reveals a long winding staircase. It’s impossible to know how far down it goes with there only being literal torches lining the walls on the way down, but it looks like a slinky’s paradise. “After you, Sylvie!”

I look up after she starts to run down the stairs and catch women dressed in blue with long blue braids closing in. There’s only one entrance, but there are still more that I can see past display cases, and even one moving in from overhead.

I jump down into the hole, and pull the hatch shut from the inside. All of the screams and sounds of the room above turn mute the moment the metal hatch seals. On the bottom the hatch has the same pattern of an eye, so I try to push the dangling handle back in. Sure enough the iris pops back out from having been indented, and the edges of the hatch seem to tighten in place as if renewing their convictions.

“We made it!” That didn’t go quite as smoothly as Zandra planned it, but hopefully the rest can match up a little more neatly.

I get the feeling if it doesn’t Sarah is going to be waiting for a long time.