The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Fuck you!” Oscura glares at me from under her mask and I can only manage a grin. There’s something about angry women who have no clue who or what I am that always gets me all warmed up. “You also like women who give you nice bruises?”

The pain from my forehead had been long gone until she had to bring it back up, but even then it’s not too bad and actually feels like it’s lot better than it did before. “Not especially, but I can like to play rough . . . From time to time.” Just looking at her brings up the absolutely darkest thoughts and desires that could completely undermine my agenda, but that doesn’t really matter. Right now, all that matters is keeping my cool and evaluating the situation as best I can.

She hasn’t decked me, and she has no clue what the drug is that I gave to the girls so at least for now I have the upper hand. Hopefully soon I’ll have the hand that’s holding her under.

“Stupid bitch! No one messes with mi familia!” Crying out loudly—likely as much for the strength of a good scream as in rage—Oscura dashes towards me fist first. The way she’s moving isn’t in a way I could either—she’s literally flying towards me with her feet just barely off of the floor. So I guess that at least some of the rumors about her are true.

I could take this moment to threaten her sisters in arms, but she seems like she might be the irrational type and that doesn’t seem like a smart thing to do. Instead, I reach for the first compartment to the right of my belt and retrieve a small box. Quick as I can, I hold it out in front of Oscura’s face, and it flashes a bright light just before her fist would have connected with my face.

The flash is bright, so bright that if it was shined at me back when my eyes were silver I would have been temporarily blinded. As it is, her eyes will work again, but it will take them at least a little while.

Her scream is almost enough to deafen me, but I use her momentum to move behind her and wrap my arms around her in such a way as to trap her arms at her sides. “I’m not messing with your family, Oscura. I’m messing with you. They’ll recover, with no adverse side effects. After I’m done, you’ll even thank me.”

“Get off of me!” Her arms break free from my grip, and before I can even react her hands have a firm grab on my arms. It’s a predictable reaction, but it’s also evidence that she’s not a novice. After she gives me a good firm throw, I manage to catch my balance and land gracefully. She can’t see it though, because her eyes are still sealed shut from the flash.

“Who the hell are you?!” She’s rubbing furiously at her eyes, and I’m stuck trying to choose amongst my options. I could try more Blue Dreams, but I’m running out of it as it is. It’s not the easiest thing to find. Since I need her receptive and not helplessly unconscious, my options are lesser. Maybe a little bit of the classics . . .

They’re classics for a reason, after all.

Carefully I move around her, quiet as I can, and whisper silkily right into her ear once my body is almost touching hers. “I, am Patina . . . The voice that melts knees and opens minds . . .” I stroke my hand delicately over her cheek in a very slow spiral, and I can feel her body shudder, “whose touch turns fighters into school girls . . .”

School girls aren’t always cravingly obedient little sluts, but whenever I’ve been turned into one I have been, and I am my closest frame of reference.

“Nnn . . . Not a school girl . . .” She’s still rubbing her eyes, and that distraction may be enough to make her helpless to the point of melting her pretty little mind away. Her whole body quivers so sweetly as I trace over her other cheek, and her hands even slow.

If I start whispering more it might lull her, or enrage her. Taking the risk, I whisper right into her ear as tenderly as I can. “Well I do have a lot to teach you . . . about relaxing . . . letting go . . . being calm . . . and I can say quite easily that you are a very pretty girl . . . You’d make a gorgeous doll . . . Life-size and fully pose able . . .”

Right when I say the word doll she seems to slump, and it feels like a victory. At first. “Not . . . a . . . doll!”

She screams, and fearing another toss I jump back only barely in time to avoid her grabbing me again. She still moves with a melted edge, but that doesn’t mean that she’s not strong enough to fling me across the room. I’ve already racked up enough frequent flier miles as is.

Oscura twists around, still blinded but still trying to grab for me. Each time her hands reach out more there’s a feel able ferocity to it, enough to make me quiver back. On the third grab, her palms ignite with purple flame.

Every grab her hands reach in closer to me, but I don’t feel the usual emanating warmth from her hands like I should from flames. Either they’re illusions or . . . I have absolutely no idea.

My left hand falls to another pouch and pops it open. The flames reach out from her hands, somehow actively searching for me, but my hand pulls up a small canister and sprays fire suppressant madly towards her. The flames actually pull back, and when her hands are covered the flames fade entirely.

It defies logical explanation, but magical purple flames should or life would get boring.

Slipping the suppressant back into my belt I rush at her and in a lunge I manage to throw us back onto the ground. It’s not too difficult to pin her down, though her hands are just a little gross—I do have gloves. Her eyes are finally starting to blink open in a way that shows cognizance, which means I’m back at square one.

“Well you’re a lot more passionate than a doll, but I always wanted my dollies to be more . . . playful. If you want to play this the hard way, we can . . .” I push myself up above her, looking down at her face and see her eyes cross on the light that perfectly shines from the dim light above onto my pendant. “I’m happy either way. You just need a little bit of education, that’s all. I don’t want to hurt you, little Oscura . . .”

Her breathing turns into quivering gasps as she struggles to pull herself away. Something about how she looks is otherworldly—besides just her lovely purple hair splayed out around her and over her pale flesh. It’s not pale like mine is—it looks like the skin of her fellow gang members but for some reason whitened. It has a very lovely feeling to it, and her body feels much stronger than she’s acting.

Oscura twists and arches underneath me, but her eyes seem to have a problem looking away from my necklace. A small silver teardrop glittering in the light, sparkling and twinkling—I can see how it looks pretty but I’m not even trying to make use of it. She could be a natural victim, or a repeat victim, but . . .

Something in her eyes looks different, it looks like it’s yearning for what it sees more than trapped. Aching for it rather than aching to escape, and seeing that makes her feeble struggling make sense. She is trying to struggle—but her body and mind aren’t.

They need this—traditional was a good approach.

“That’s it, Oscura . . . Just stare at the pretty silver teardrop . . . It’s magic, you know . . . Not that I need magic to lull you under my spell, but it’s magic that keeps me safe. And magic that will keep me safe, will keep you safe if you let it. Will you let me help make you safe, Oscura? Will you open yourself to my protection? Please say you will, my sweet little Oscura . . .”

“Nnn . . . Safe . . .?” Her voice quivers with something like fear, and something like desire. The conflict plays over her face as some of her facial muscles tense and others melt in response.

Long and just slender enough her legs quiver against me and I can feel them ever so faintly part as I lean the teardrop closer. Just the idea of being lost staring at my pendant is parting her thighs, and making her breasts arch up higher. Oscura’s top is far too tight around her firm swelling breasts to hide her hardening nipples.

Being controlled can turn me on, but I don’t think it ever turned me on this strongly the first time a particular woman did it—except for once, but that was her whole point—that’s really not the same.

“Safe . . . I want to keep you safe, without having to worry for a little while . . . I want to help you care for your little gang of misfits . . . All I ask in return, is for you to open up to me . . . You’re on to a great start. I’m sure if you spread your legs even more you could feel your mind parting open . . .”

Her face scrunches, but it looks like she’s more trying to struggle and hide away than actually struggling. The more she hides, the more her desire exposes her resistance to allow the arousal to melt it away . . . Its practically visible. The more pronounced her nipples get, the faster her breathing gets, the wider her legs part . . . the more all the reactions of a helpless woman slowly encompass her.

There’s just something innately linked about her libido and her mind . . . there’s no way not to find this woman absolutely intriguing.

“You are a deliciously pale little thing . . . And do you know how hot being helpless makes you . . .?” I reach a hand down, and even feeling through her pants the warmth and dampness is shocking. I’ve felt less arousal through thongs! “Oh, you must . . . you’re burning up. Maybe I should take your temperature? Would you like me taking care of you, Oscura?”

“Uuuh...huuuuh...”

Every part of her quivers as she responds. Every little strand of purple hair seems to flutter, her lips shaking and shuddering . . . Something about her feels like a kindred spirit. Thinking back to some of my own times in her place, I can just imagine how my reactions were so similar. Could she be as predisposed to this as I . . .?

Slowly I slide my hands off of her wrists, and her arms don’t move up to push me away. No new flames take the place of the old. She seems all the more docile for it. As her body arches and twists slowly in arousal, her wrists stay pinned right where I held them.

The strangest thing is, even with her obviously growing more and more aroused the more helpless she gets, she’s not sweating. She’s not flushed in the least besides the natural reddish undertone to her skin. Something about the way she could be writhing so much even if subtly, so wet and warm, and yet remain as pale and without a drop of sweat on her—it just makes her all the more attractively mysterious.

Such a delicious mystery to watch unravel . . .

Her body settles the arch from her back melting as her lips seal closed. Her legs quiver faintly and I resist the urge to tear off her pants and claw along her inner thighs. Instead, I curl the tips of my fingers under the sides of her top. “Is my hot little Oscura ready to open herself to me fully? To accept my control, my protection, to give me her all and everything to be allowed only to grow beyond the lovely little thing she is?”

“Yesss!” Oscura arches her hips up towards me with a sharp whine, legs spreading almost to the point it might look painful. “Pandora is a doll . . . Toy to be used . . . Used to be fed, to indulge any of her owner’s desiiiires . . . Pandora-Doll craves to obey . . .!”

Her voice has a whole new tone to it now. It’s so much younger, so much more dependant and needy. She called herself Pandora . . . Something about her having a Greek name while I’m going by a Latin name feels far too fated, and far too beyond connected. Pandora, the woman whose curiosity opened the world to the evil of Hope . . .

Slowly I slide her top up, so the fabric is lifted up right against the lowest curve of her breasts. “Mmm, Pandora is it? Is Pandora the pretty name of my pretty dolly? It sounds like someone else has played with my pretty dolly before . . .Has someone else played with my pretty dolly like this? Opened up her legs, opened up her mind, and taught her how goood it is to obey, or is that just something pretty Panny has always had deep in her silly little head?”

Oscura whines out long and slow, shaking, and making my hands slip and sliding her top slightly over her breasts, revealing her deliciously pale flesh with just enough of that warm undertone. “Yesss . . . Panny is a good little dolly, she’s been taught how to be a good little obedient dolly . . . to feed on or play with . . .”

“Feed on . . .? Mmm, I do see a myriad of ways I would want to feast on you, but . . .” Finally I pull her top up and over her lovely chest and drink in the view of her hard nipples that are a darker color than her skin, but compared to the undertone of her skin, still aren’t really . . . flush somehow. “What do you mean? And just what are you, my pretty little Pandora?”

She’s really not that much smaller than me, but right now she looks so much smaller, even as she gasps in a deep breath and her tits quiver and shake pleasantly as she settles back against the floor.

“Feed . . .” She arches her neck, and a hand limply reaches up to pull her top away from her neck as she does. “Your p-pretty little pan-do-ra is a fang dolly, a vampire toy, to feed on, to tou-u-ch. . .” And in one single sentence and a simpler motion all of her lack of blushing, and her reactions make sense. Oscura is a woman named Pandora, likely a direct alias, who has been controlled and turned into just what she said, a fanged doll—a vampire’s toy.

“You don’t need to worry about me feeding on you Pandora . . . I don’t want to do anything like that to you. I want to help you never be fed on again, never need to be a pretty dolly for anyone else. Might seem hypocritical of me, but I want to help . . . Even if I’m only not shocked right now because I only half believe what you just said . . .” I grasp her nipples between forefinger and thumb before twisting them both hard at once.

Pandora screams and arches out her back to try and press her full breasts into my hands as her nipples turn ever harder at my touch. It explains everything. Oh, it doesn’t make everything click into place, but obviously she’s a vampire. I believe her.

The marks at the nape of her neck are undeniable when combined with the fact that she’s just so very pale, and no woman can have that hard of nipples without them turning that sweetly darker color unless of course their blood doesn’t work like a normal woman’s . . .

Her maker must have used some sort of entrancing for this to be so easy for me. It explains why she fought me, and why she stopped. She was used as a sex toy and a snack before being tossed into the streets where she found orphans and formed La Oscuridad . . . How fiercely independent being used must have made her makes her all the more sexy to me. So much in common, and I didn’t even seek her out because I felt any kind of kinship with her . . .

Slowly I lower down and lap my tongue tenderly at the two small little mostly healed marks at her neck. “You don’t need to be fed from anymore . . . You won’t be fed from anymore . . . and you don’t need to let the other gangs push yours around anymore, and only retaliate . . .”

I slide my hands around her breasts, holding them in my hands as best I can whilst slowly and firmly kneading. “You can do more . . . mmm tell me about your flames, Panny . . .”

“O-of c-course, Mistre-ssss . . . Flames don’t really burn . . . Feel like they do, and still hurt. Spiritual flames, can burn away, cleanse, and make new . . .” Oh her powers couldn’t be any more perfect for what she needed to do if I’d shoved them right into her myself. “Always careful using them . . . don’t want to be a target . . .”

“Mmm, and that is smart, Panny-doll . . . That is very smart, and smart is sexy, very sexy . . .” Slowly I lower down, kissing over her bunched up top before kissing around the curve of her breast and then suckling at her nipple, hard for just a moment. “And you love being sexy, don’t you, pretty Panny?”

Pandora squeals at the top of her lungs causing her breasts to sweetly quiver and shake as I flick my tongue at the very tip of her other nipple wetting it slowly and making her shake more. “Looove being sexy!”

The Lady would have loved having her in Chronos . . . But Pandora belongs here, as Oscura, protecting her family . . . “Good . . . And you know what’s sexy . . . ? Control. Using your power and hot sexy brains just enough to make the people that threaten your family do what you need and want them to do, making them make Old Town into one big happy family . . . Sharing a common goal . . .”

Whether through her own thoughts, the way I’ve made this sound sweetly sexy, or maybe just the delight of protecting her family so well, she shudders and I can feel her whole body tighten in a motion that can only be clenching as her legs tighten.

It won’t make Dolores perfect, but it will make things better.

“Mmm, so after the two of us are done here, with our hot little fun, you’re going to use those sweet powers, and our lovely yummy little family to become the baddest little queenpin vampire there ever was, aren’t you . . ..?”

“Yesssss!” Pandora doesn’t slow her grinding against my leg for even a moment, pressing firmer and harder against me as I begin to suckle at the teased nipple. “Pandora will be the beeest . . . Mmm . . .”

Third person self reference never really struck me as sexy before, but something about the way that Pandora says it makes it irresistibly sexy when she doest. Maybe it’s the depth of her own helplessness as it melts away into her own bliss, or the way that in just a moment I could use that control to direct her to do anything I desire.

They both boil down to the same thing—this hottie is making me feel far too sexy to focus on anything but ravishing her.

Slowly I pull my face back, nibbling as I pull her nipple back with me. She screams in ecstasy and arches down against the floor to feel it more intensely, and I release her nipple from my mouth with a final nip. “And every little touch is going to make you able to be better and better . . . Mmm . . . Pandora . . . Such a pretty dolly . . .”

“Mistress is pretti-er!” As soon as her pants are pulled down my tongue traces the tender flesh where her leg meets her crotch. Her leg shakes and moves ever farther apart from the other. A lap to the other side of her panties and the other leg parts away as well. “Oooh Pan-doll neeeeeeds!”

“And ‘Mistress’ will provide . . .” Whoever turned her, whoever used her must have been a woman, even deeply melted a woman doesn’t instantly start calling another woman Mistress. Not that it doesn’t make me drip. “Provide until her little Panny doll is drowning in bliss . . .”

Mimicking fantasies and the magazines I’d always seen as a teenager, I pull her panties to the side and slide my tongue slowly up along her warm-wet slit. She’s not flush here either, but something about that just makes her look like a sexy cartoon, drawn in a simpler way, even if the small blissful details of her lips are so precise.

Pressing her lips apart with my fingers I finally taste inside of her, groaning and clenching my thighs at the sweet feeling and the sweet tang. For being undead, she sure feels alive. Warm, squirming and arching towards me every moment my tongue teases around her clit, she’s every bit alive and more. Her screams and how frantic her hips start to shake, she’s even more sensitive than I am!

Looking up with hazy eyes I see her hands furiously playing with her breasts, tugging and twisting as she arches and grinds herself against me, gasping and whimpering and pleading in what must be Spanish because I can feel the yearning but the meaning of her words escapes me.

My hands wrap around her legs to help my mouth move as her hips do, and moment by moment I can feel my own arousal skyrocketing with the delicious sounds of my helpless new friend. I can feel her shudders intensifying, and I know it’s close, I know that soon she’ll overflow with desire and the dam will burst. The orgasm, tied so deeply with my control, will be the best she’s ever felt, and she hasn’t even known me for an hour.

So many times I was the helpless one just melting back, arching and twisting how I was told or how my body couldn’t help but move, and yet now . . . The rush of the pure desire and need I feel through Pandora’s body, the rush I feel in my own . . . “Cum for Mistress panny-doll, cum!”

The command seems to double how sensitive she already was to my tongue and to my lips as I latch onto her clit. Her thighs shake and close around my face, and I love it. Her taste, her submission, is so sweet, and I know part of what makes it sweet is that it’s all for me. No quivering resistance, no stray thoughts, every taste of her, every clench every arch every grind, is all for me.

And when she bursts and floods my mouth with her warm submissive juices, all of that is for me too. I suckle and lap up every last little drop from my hot little sex doll, and even when I know I have it all I keep just lapping to taste her and engrain the memory of this feeling over my thoughts.

An eternity later I pull back, and wipe the back of my hand slowly across my face to wipe off the sweat. “Mmmm, Pandora . . . Now, I do believe that it’s time for dolly to undress her Mistress . . . After all . . . She has needs too . . .”

“Mmmmm yes!” Pandora goes from helplessly limp to pinning me down in a flash of purple hair as she starts to help me out of my leotard. Purple hair, I can’t help but think about that girl in the hospital with her purple hair . . .

But that doesn’t matter, right now, only Pandora matters. “Mmm, good girl Panny, good girl . . . I think you’re just the right girl to make both me and Dolores feel a looooot better about Old Town . . .”

After what felt like hours of fun, and then a little bit of cleanup with Pandora helping me devotedly of course, the two of us end up curling close in Pandora’s home and watching the television. It’s very, very late at night, so nothing even mildly good is on but I don’t really care. It’s just the delight of cuddling up with a pretty girl who couldn’t mind you were flipping through the channels if she wanted to, which she can’t.

“Katya Emerald’s research is going to change the way we think about outer space, Peter. Already the station is half complete and the research staff is full of some of the most impressive names in their respective fields. Medical research, robotics research . . .” The woman on the screen sounds way too impressed to be anything but high, but at least she’s a busty redhead so I stay on the news channel.

I don’t even know the channel, its not a local one so Pan must have stolen herself some cable, but it’s not as if I haven’t some at least mildly illegal things myself tonight. “But how could she afford it? And why did she choose Midas City as the project’s base of operations? I know her reason Lana, but something strikes me as suspicious.”

“Not everything out of Midas is another Chronos.” The way that hot redhead responds makes me wince and tempts me to snarl. “Besides, Midas has the resources to support the project. Miss Emerald could have a trillion dollars, and you wouldn’t expect her to execute a space station program from Africa. Midas has been the front of many advancements in research and space exploration.

“And even you have to admit that Chronos was good for the economy.”

Frowning I click the damned thing off and kiss Pandora’s lips. “Silly newscasters don’t understand what Jesse gave us, even if, granted, we were stealing women’s minds and freedom. Soon, Panny, I’m going to leave, flying off fast as I can on my pretty bike . . . and you’re going to fix up Old Town . . .”

“Want Mistress to stay . . .” Her big dark eyes look right into mine, and she actually pulls herself closer to me. “Want Mistress to stay.”

A deep pat of me wishes I could stay here. I could help Pandora clean up Dolores. I could take the second in command of her little gang. Then we could clean up Midas . . . but that isn’t my place, or hers. Pandora belongs here, and ultimately, I belong in Midas once I’m ready for it.

“Sorry sweetie. She will stay in touch . . . and some day in the future, I might need your help. And when I do . . . It will be as the waking Pandora. Because as hot as you are like this . . . You deserve to be free and protecting your family. And so do I.” Slowly I pull myself away, and straighten out my hair. “I’m going to go get my bike, and then I’ll be out of town. I hope I get to see you soon, Pandora . . . And that we start out the meeting on much better terms . . .”

“So does Pandora . . .” and with that devoted, melted look in her eyes, I know that we will one way or another.