The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

For a long time she hunted her secrets and scraped her fury on all the locked enigmas, and no one allowed her to feel real.

She woke up tired.

The Bauble was in the hands of a mortal. That always woke her. Even if it was an innocent or the direst sort of pawnbroker of dreams, she loved the trivial release of the dread sleep of the Black Chains of Solomon.

Fucking jealous bastard. May he rot in the Singularity’s Lap.

The sexual heat came next. She stretched and uncramped from lingering stasis. A small inventory of herself. She was old. Beyond the years of her kind due to the enslavement of the Black Chains. There was no pride in being an aging slave.

She pulled her matter and beauty together. The dissonance arrived then. She faced it. She had become warped by those mortals who spent a wish upon her, thinking her appearance uncomely or not fitting the mortal song of her captivity.

So she had been taller, shorter, fatter, slimmer, curved, or thinned down to bone to humble her in slavery. So many times.

Solomon had not realized the ‘loophole’ of mortals being ‘generous’ regarding her undying binding. That part made her smile. So mortals changed her permanently at times.

So she took note, anew, of her fantastic appearance and decided again, ‘so be it’.

She felt the nearing sweep of outside erotic mortality along her mind. Heat and thunder awoke in her thoughts. She leaned into the rubbing. She turned and let the mortal fingers find her yoni flower. The petals were slick already. She pushed down. Back. Slow and carefully, she spread on the mortal hand thrust against the Bauble.

Soon.

There.

A bit. More. Hmm. Oh. Some skill. A measure of kindness. A scent of a woman who had done things. Been about the world. Actually had children. Killed enemies. Fought for freedoms. Rebuilt a life. Exchanged wisdom for a failing physicality.

She came into the tempest of Orgasm, once for each of the nine sacred senses of her people.

She emerged then, dripping, sweating, still groaning in pleasure from the ninth orgasm. It was her favorite.

Not that mortals cared. She took her fingers from her yoni flower and licked the syrup. She revealed herself.

The female mortal before her, holding the Bauble, was old.

She used her gracious voice. “Greetings and blessings upon thee, o mine Excellency and blessed of Solomon. How may I serve, o mine Excellency?”

The silver-haired woman looked up and down the dusty brown youth wearing the black cuffs at her neck, wrists, and ankles. “You have very pretty eyes, m’dear. Such a glorious color. Is that natural to your people? And might you put on some clothes?”

She went down on her knees to salute the manners and thoughtfulness. “Alas, o mine Excellency, I may only change mineself by the powers of thou as willed by Solomon the Mystic. But if thou permit, mine prowess shall confuse thine senses, and I shall appear clothed to all.”

The old mortal smiled, “Oh, that’s certainly nice to know. So I can wish you changed or give you the influence of my senses? No. I see how that might be very bad. Do you have a name? Mine is Jane. You don’t have to call me Excellency.”

“Mine name is taken by Solomon, Jane. I cannot speak it.”

“Ah. So patriarchal. Well. I expect us to have an honest conversation here, m’dear. You may speak candidly, in modern fashion, and do try to work around the Solomon bias, as best you can. Your slavery is ancient. I’ve spent time and money to discover this ring, and now I want to know how many wishes? Three?”

She smiled. “Jane, the story is much more complicated than the ‘three wishes’ crap. You may have infinite wishes if you can avoid the traps of Solomon and be satisfied that no mortal can withstand my mighty deceit of the mortal senses.”

Jane lost her poker face. She looked thoughtful. “Traps of Solomon. That sounds bad. Well. There just doesn’t appear to be thoughtful research on how to do this. Can you make suggestions?”

She smiled wider. “That is one of the traps, yes.”

Jane laughed. “Ah. So let’s see. You could allow me to feel and look younger, and all mortals would agree with the deceit. But I would still die from the failure of my old body. Is that an example of how infinite wishes work?”

She wanted to laugh along with Jane’s wit, but so many Excellencies interpreted that as being uppity or high-handed, which often was true. Jane intrigued her. Her acquisition of the Bauble showed courage and clever planning. “A good example, I think. Yes.”

“Are there other wishes that you can satisfy, that are numbered instead of infinite?”

She saw the twinkle in Jane’s eyes. “Indeed. To change the mortal world, I may do this only once for a mighty working or twice for a limited working. To change the real world, I may only do such a thing once. There is no case for three wishes. It is a fable without truth.”

Jane smiled now. “So if I wanted to be young again, with a span of mortal years ahead of me, that would be a limited working? But if I wanted to be young forever, that would be the single wish?”

“Another good example.” She studied the room now, having examined Jane in scale to the molecular level. This residence was clean and artful. It showed a certain minor appreciation of the full nine senses. Interesting. Had Jane had an artist do this, or was it her own perception?

“And if I were young forever, I’d never be able to explain it. I’d probably be in trouble fast. Or bored. Or worse.” Jane nodded slowly. “Unless I first made an infinite deceitful wish that no mortal would think my age was strange or out of the ordinary. And then made the wish to be young forever. Would that work?”

She grinned and showed the sharpness of her teeth. “Oh, indeed it would. Infinite wishes have few limits but more traps. Well done. Is this your house?”

Jane nodded. “Yes, it is. Would you like to sit on the sofa? I mean, you look very fit and comfortable there on the floor, but as you are my guest, I’d like you to feel at ease.”

“You wish me to be comfortable here? Am I your guest? Then you offer hospitality, and I accept. Perhaps you have dark coffee. Dates? I have not eaten in centuries. A little meal would be most welcome.”

Jane immediately got up. “We are alone here. Let me see what I have in the kitchen. Coffee, I can provide. Dates I don’t have, but there is the magic of DineDash. Or would you care for mandarin oranges? Cheese and crackers? Please look around. There is nothing here that I am not interested in your opinion of.”

She nodded.

Jane walked away to fulfill the kind offers.

She followed her progress into the kitchen with the sense of Velocity. She got up and walked around, examining the little house. The Wind told exactly which objects Jane touched most frequently; they smelled of her, and so she studied them most closely. She learned what to expect of Jane. Jane cared about things, people, art, and kindness.

She cared about being a good woman.

Jane became more interesting. In other rooms, there were no smells of recent men, but in the bedroom, there were the scented remains of many women, who had spread their yoni flower and tried to touch the infinite. She judged that this had not been current. Perhaps twenty years ago.

She opened Jane’s closet and examined the clothing there. A trifle of her vast powers, and she now wore a deceitful copy of some of Jane’s attire.

There were strong remains of Self in the choices. So Jane should like this.

She returned to the main room and sat on the sofa, crossing her legs and studying the leather heels and black stockings.

Jane returned with a tray. She set it down on the little table there. Jane sat next to her guest and ired the outfit. “I went to the Oscars in California in that dress. I haven’t worn it since. You are slimmer than I was then. I’m surprised it fits you so well. The black cuffs don’t really go with the look.”

“Thank you. It is a copy of some material in your closet.” She blinked, and the appearance of the Black Chains vanished from Jane’s perceptions. “I would have served you if you asked.”

“Oh,” Jane handed her a coffee. It smelled weak. “You are my guest. Please let me know if I can make you more comfortable.” Jane pointed to a plate of tiny oranges fresh from a metal can. They were arranged in a circle, signifying a long, unending friendship to her guest.

Did Jane know this?

She waited until Jane had filled her own cup. “To your health, Jane. May your wishes be glorious.”

They both sipped coffee.

She pointed to the oranges. “I would like to try the citrus. Mandarin does not exactly tell me what to expect.”

Jane nodded. “Please do. I don’t know where the name comes from. We could look it up. They are very flavorful. I eat them to cheer myself up, so I always have some around.”

She ate one. She could tell what it was once she ate it. It originated in the mountains. It drew strength from lands and trees that felt simple ion. It was excellent.

Jane also had a tiny segment.

“None of my recent Excellencies has given me such a fine gift, Jane. Thank you. You are special to me.”

Jane laughed lightly. “How much of your, um, true nature is framed by the rules of Solomon or hospitality in this meeting. I’m swayed by the notion you are an expert at deceit with humans.”

She found her hostess’s laugh charming. “A very fair question. I am a slave to the Bauble you have on your finger. You have asked for honesty. You are my host. You have asked me to let you know how I shall feel at ease. May I change nothing but perception and make myself more at ease now?”

Jane put her coffee down. “I should ask for particulars, but you are my guest. Please do allow yourself to feel at ease.”

She took command of the building, then the city, then the energy of the sun arriving on the planet. Finally, she adjusted Jane’s perceptions. It was done.

Jane gasped.

Jane and her guest sat on the deep, richly artful rug on the pale sand-strewn floor of the apartment. The room walls were covered with famous art pieces from the city’s museums. Hard sunlight entered every open window. The windows no longer held glass or frames. The air temperature was hotter than the coffee. Both women were naked but for Black Chains.

Jane felt the throb of Solomon’s Will in the metal cuffs at her neck, wrists, and ankles. It felt like a ghost of disapproval.

“As this, we can pretend to be equals, Jane. It makes me feel very good. No one has ever dared what you have done today. Please enjoy, if you can.”

Jane swallowed slowly, and the shock retreated. She looked at the paintings in recognition. Stunning. She smelled the desert air. Tantalizing. Jane glanced sideways at the djinn’s nude arousal. That dark smile, wet thighs, and arching dusty feet were spiced and so inviting.

So damn attractive. A trap?

But Jane’s shock grew further. Jane realized her limbs, no, all of her looked and felt like she was twenty-nine again. Jane ran fingers over her face. “This isn’t real. It feels so real.” Jane quivered and slipped into arousal like a comfortable robe of burning gossamer.

The djinn picked up an orange slice and offered it forward, touching Jane’s lower lip gently with the citrus.

Jane looked into the rainbow eyes of the djinni. “Let us pretend to be equals for a few months. There is no rule about when I shall use my wishes, eh? Janann?”

Janann laughed. “Oh, clever. You speak the old tongues a bit? I shall agree to be Janann. Spirit. I like it.”

“Then like this.” Jane kissed her. The hostess knew well the art of the mouth.

Powerful waves ed through Janann. She was a slave to the Bauble. This was not the first time she had been used by the Excellency of the Bauble. But this lust felt as equals. Perhaps her power was strong enough to delude herself. But she did not think so. Janann explored Jane’s mouth with her greater senses. She liked the fingers of one hand tangled in Jane’s hair. The other hand sought out Jane’s yoni flower and slid home there.

Jane made a delightful sound.

It was simplicity itself for Janann to see the ebb and flow of Jane’s arousal, and to anticipate and guide Jane in the upward spiral of mental sex that existed beyond mortal senses in the Self. The pair rolled into each other, savoring the living energy, making love under the watchful Black Chains of Solomon’s Will.

Janann felt it across a few thousand years, and so she could let Jane gently experience it as well.

Jane was unprepared. For she had been a freedom fighter, a mother, a wife, and long years now, a celibate, who at times paid to dominate a woman for money, for it was both safe and pleasing at many levels. This was pleasing at levels Jane was not able to describe.

She wasn’t even sure where to start.

Janann sent softly, Do not worry, Jane, about the eyes of the Black Chains upon us, for they are tuned only to my obedience to a dead man’s witchery. Janann ran her tongue across Jane’s closed eyelids. The wild dance of the mortal’s hidden eyes pleased them both.

Jane kissed Janann’s neck. I want. I need this to be real. This feeling. This sensation that the room around us is alive and enjoys our lust. Is that you? Is it a deception? For I’ve never realized I wanted to be watched. How sad the Black Chains can only eye us. Could we make them cum with us? They feel submissive to our combined will. Her fingers found Janann’s very soaked cunt and began a dance there that made both sets of hips move.

Janann gasped at Jane’s small observation. By the Core of Life! Was that another flaw in Solomon’s work? Had he made the chains by a female principle subject to his craven craft? She might work with that. She might persuade. For whom could think the Black Chains were actually brighter and quicker of thought than Janann?

Their legs, one set dusty olive, the other set tanned wheat, were brisk in scissoring. Jane suggested a slight change. Janann made the change, suddenly astonished at the leap of sacred Fire in her yoni flower. She eagerly learned this new position. They thrashed.

It became molten. It was as juicy as Mandarin oranges crushed between them. The heat appreciated to a level that djinn could Savor. Janann sent, Tell me a fantasy.

Jane laughed. “Slow down. You’ll make me your slut if you go this fast.” She made no effort to slow.

Janann grinned and showed all of her sharp teeth. “Too late for you, slut. I’ll never be slow with you, dearest hostess. I’ll never ask for more than you can give. I’ll not covet that which you give freely.” Janann orgasmed within Wind.

“Oh, so my guest becomes my little submissive then? Let the afternoon last a week. We can work out the exact matter of who chains whom later. Do not forget I have wishes to do.” Jane winked at her.

“How could I? I am eager to obey your imagination!” Janann arched her neck as Jane bit her nipple. “No. Wish away! Hold nothing back, my devoted hostess!” Janann orgasmed within Fire.

“Then I wish that every woman in this apartment building shall feel twenty-nine and play her cunt as if the Black Chains watch her.”

Janann came hard within Velocity. She orgasmed through Suffering and Music. Three senses at once!

Up and down around them, nearby women played their yoni instruments and sang and felt overwhelmed.

Jane came but could not slow down. The hot slop of their minds matched their juiced cunts. “Then I wish that every woman in this city shall feel that she is respected by those who most closely follow her wisdom and enjoy her scent.”

Janann came as a geyser. She orgasmed through Beauty and Savor. Two senses at once!

In the precincts of the city, woman stopped, and their minds paid attention to the catalog of love that had been laid at their feet across years, and they literally tasted their own worthy yoni flowers.

Jane orgasmed but could only speed up. The fertile gates of her mind opened, and her ideas fucked her dripping imagination deeply. “Then I wish that every woman in the mortal world shall feel that she is known, her flesh tastes divine, her touch is hungry for love, her cunt is as hot as every love needs, and she may play alone for she is her own best audience.”

In the world, Janann reached, and for the moment, it was so, and every woman knew the nine sacred senses of truth. They did not stop making the world spin, but they all smiled to be fully known.

Janann sensed a change in the real world.

Alas, Janann and Jane exploded as one, and the stretched moment was over. They fell insensate. For an infinite set of deceitful wishes, it was spectacular.

One week later, the afternoon was over.

Janann and Jane woke at sunset. Janann had a deeper well of experience, had even once been tortured by demons, and so sat up quickly, recovering her wits. “By the young prophet! That was fucking awesome…”

The apartment was mundane. Of course, the deceit had vanished. It was only a treat of whimsy, not a change of the mortal world.

Janann looked about. She correctly identified young Jane in nude repose, blinking, her hair the color of Fire, her skin about the cunt still steaming, and a smile upon her lips.

Jane groaned and stared at the ceiling. She whispered, in the way of djinni, I’m addicted to whatever I just did. Dare I ask whether we can do it again?

Janann nodded. “Let us hope we can.” Janann noticed the startling absence of Solomon’s Will. The Black Chains were devoid of regard. Lighter. Janann touched her neck cuff. Empty.

Janann crawled over and inspected the black cuffs Jane wore. They should be gone. They were pretense. Jane should be old. Most astounding.

Exciting. Arousing. Something profound had changed. “Jane. You made a single wish. You changed the real world. What did you wish, dearest hotness?”

“Did I? I cannot …” Jane saw her young fingers when she wiped drool from her mouth. She sat up slowly, staring at her hand, then her legs. She blinked rainbow eyes at Janann. “I think…something to do with loving your point of view.”

Janann smiled. “Thank you.” The djinni held up a fist to the sky with the middle finger raised to the long departed Solomon.