The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Her heart pounding, Cecilia rushed straight to her room. The few English guests whom she passed stared at her curiously, but she didn’t dare stop to ask them for help. Mr. Turpin was well-liked and powerful. She would be dismissed as a foolish young girl with flights of fancy.

The thought of the Royal Envoy dropping his trousers and then climbing into her bed dominated Cecilia’s mind, smothering all other thoughts. Realizing how vulnerable she was, Cecilia felt ill. For lands’ sake, Mr. Turpin’s suite was just across the hallway from her own! No doubt he’d planned this rape from the moment he’d laid his beady eyes upon her.

Panicking, the young Englishwoman flew into her room. Diya and Pihu were opening up the bed and looked up in alarm. Cecilia slammed the twin doors shut behind her, then reached for the lock.

But the doors had no lock. Nor was there any way to bar them shut, either.

“Damnation!” Cecilia cursed, fighting tears.

“Sahiba?” a rich feminine voice from behind her said.

Cecilia whirled about, tense and surprised.

Stepped out from the dressing area, there was a third Indian servant woman, tall and almost regal. This newcomer was slender, with long, raven-like black hair, high cheekbones, and large, soft brown eyes. Her beauty was plain, yet elegant. In her servant’s dress, her bare arms appeared smooth yet muscled, with delicate wrists and long, graceful fingers. The woman folded her hands before her in the submissive pose as she approached.

Cecilia scowled. “Who are you?” she demanded, feeling more than a little betrayed.

The new servant continued her slow approach. “I am Tanvi, sahiba,” she said, her voice soft and reverent. “The master of the palace noticed that you were assigned only two servant women, while your husband was given four attendants during his stay here.” She bowed her head, once. “The master regrets that he can only spare me to redress this oversight.”

Angered, Cecilia almost snarled, “I don’t need another servant. I need…”

She paused, feeling overwhelmed. In perhaps an hour or so, Mr. Azad would call away the servants, leaving her defenseless against Mr. Turpin. She felt trapped.

Tanvi’s expression softened. “What is wrong, ma’am?”

Cecilia wanted to explode, to bellow and scream at this new woman, at anyone associated with the horrid Ratiramshree Palace. Was there no justice?

And yet… Tanvi’s face betrayed a genuine concern. It was nice to see affection from another human being.

Dropping her rage, Cecilia sunk to her knees, her tears openly flowing now. “There is a man,” she wept. “An Englishman. He will be coming here soon to… to force himself upon me. I need—“

Tanvi gasped, an audible expression of horror. “Devata nan!” she exclaimed in shock.

In a flash, the beautiful servant was kneeling before Cecilia, taking the Englishwoman’s shaking hands. “Tell me everything,” the Indian commanded firmly.

Cecilia didn’t hold back. She related all that had happened to her; the chance meeting with Mr. Turpin on the train, the invitation to stay at Ratiramshree Palace, her brief hunt for General Laksurimanan… and now, her impending rape. As the words spilled forth, Cecilia began to shake with tears of exhaustion.

Tanvi was horror-stricken. “Sala!” she swore softly, passing a hand over her mouth.

Then, before Cecilia could react, the new servant woman rose, moving to the decorative bell-ropes that hung off the fireplace. Her slender fingers selected one entwined with purple ribbons, and then pulled. A soft bell, set somewhere deep within the palace, rang once.

“Sahiba,” said Tanvi, returning to Cecilia’s side and taking her by the shoulders, “you will be safe. This I promise you. Here, come with me and compose yourself. You must not allow others in the palace to see you in such a state.”

Gently but firmly, Tanvi guided Cecilia into a padded couch, a scented handkerchief somehow appearing in her thin hands. The servant woman expertly dabbed at Cecilia’s tears.

As the beautiful Indian woman worked, Cecilia noticed that she wore a small, purple crystal pendant, suspended from a thin gold chain around her slender neck. The crystal gleamed dully in the hearth’s firelight.

There was a soft knock at the outer doors. Cecilia, despite herself, tensed.

But Tanvi never flinched. She immediately swept to the suite entrance.

At the double doors, four Indian warriors stood, each clad in black leather and black turbans. Each man had a long, wicked-looking sword strapped to his belt. Amazingly, the men bowed to Tanvi as she cast her sharp eyes over them.

The servant woman spoke rapidly in Hindi, gesturing to the corridor space immediately outside Cecilia’s rooms. The soldiers listened intently, then nodded once, a nod that Tanvi returned. Her authority was not questioned, and they assumed a defensive position as she pushed the door shut.

Cecilia’s mouth dropped open, and Tanvi could not help but smile as she approached.

“Those men,” the servant women explained calmly, “they are Nirmanaska Baskala; the Maharaja’s sworn protectors. If anything were to happen to you while you were a guest of His Majesty, dishonor among the gods would fall on this house.” She snapped up the handkerchief and resumed drying Cecilia’s tears. “Those men, they will remain at your door all night. No Englishman, no matter how arrogant or foolish, will dare challenge them.”

A flood of relief swept over Cecilia. “All night?” she stupidly echoed.

“Yes, sahiba,” Tanvi gently smiled. “All night. Come, I must dress you for bed.”

A few harsh words from Tanvi sent poor Diya and Pihu flying from the suite. “We do not need them, sahiba,” Tanvi assured Cecilia. “They are but silly girls, empty in the head. But do not worry; they will dare not gossip.”

The Englishwoman nodded, surprised at the gratitude she felt in this moment. Tanvi was firm and commanding, yet somehow motherly at the same time. Cecilia felt oddly safe in her protective care.

“You must know the palace well?” she said, curious.

Tanvi loosened the sash about Cecilia’s waist. “I am new here,” the servant confessed. “There is much to learn. But who has power and who doesn’t… that is obvious to anyone with eyes.”

As Cecilia’s clothes fell away, a new, horrid thought popped into the Englishwoman’s head. “Those guards will watch the door tonight,” she said nervously. “But Mr. Turpin is a patient man. Surely the soldiers can’t guard me all the time while I’m a guest at the palace.”

Tanvi considered these words as she went to work on Cecilia’s undergarments. “That is quite so, sahiba,” she admitted. “We will have to think up a new defense for you.”

“I will tell my husband,” Cecilia mused aloud. “Perhaps he could—“

“Mr. Turpin would have your husband executed by a paid thug,” Tanvi said darkly. “The servants in this palace have been watching him closely. He is an evil man. Don’t underestimate his ruthlessness.”

The young Englishwoman swallowed. “There must be something to keep him at bay…”

Tanvi gently untied the drawstring of Cecilia’s pantaloons, the last of the Englishwoman’s clothes. The servant seemed to be carefully weighing many thoughts.

“I will help you,” Tanvi eventually declared. She seemed bold, even confident. “But first, we must finish your evening preparations, yes?”

The pantaloons dropped to the floor, leaving Cecilia completely naked. Tanvi picked up the bathing-cloth from the nearby wash basin. With a skilled but gentle hand, she began swathing Cecilia’s lean body.

“You must love your husband very much,” she commented.

“Well…” Cecilia said, taken aback by the question, “…ours was an arranged marriage.”

Instantly, Clement’s face appeared in Cecilia’s mind. She smiled absently.

But the servant woman had not noticed. “Arranged marriages are the tradition here too,” sighed Tanvi. “Women rarely can choose their happiness in life, can they? In a better world, that would be changed.”

“Perhaps,” agreed the Englishwoman.

Tanvi knelt on her haunches, washing Cecilia’s bare legs. “Ma’am is very fit, may I say,” she said, her voice almost admiring.

“Oh,” replied Cecilia, caught off-guard. “I was a ballerina, not long ago.”

Tanvi frowned. “Ballerina?”

A quick explanation was in order. As best she could, Cecilia described the London Ballet.

“You were a dancer, I understand,” Tanvi said, almost sadly. “You had to surrender a life you loved for the life you have now.”

Cecilia nodded, then sighed. “Let us talk of more pleasant things.”

The servant rose to her feet, directly before the Englishwoman. “As you wish, sahiba.” She tossed the bathing-cloth into the basin. “Have you heard of Videha, perchance?” she asked pleasantly. Her fingers moved to her neck, where she began removing her necklace.

“Videha?” Cecilia said blankly. “No. No, I’m afraid not. Why?”

“It is an ancient place, far to the north,” Tanvi said smoothly, lifting the necklace free from her long hair. “Extremely ancient. Many think the gods may have started the world there. Your Christian Bible would consider it the Garden of Eden. It is a remote land, lush and green. Myself, I have been there only once.”

“I see,” said Cecilia. Although she didn’t.

“There is a… how do you English say… a special energy there,” remarked Tanvi. “Scholars think the Kama Sutra was composed there.” She smiled, blushing slightly. “I believe they were inspired by the ancient magic I felt in those lands. Most passionate. Most bewitching.”

The servant held up her necklace, and the purple crystal dangling from the chain began to sparkle before Cecilia’s eyes. “I found this in that distant land, sahiba,” Tanvi remarked. “An ancient stone, perhaps as old as the Earth itself. It is very delicate, but contains wonderous magic.”

“Magic?” said Cecilia, openly doubtful.

“Yes, sahiba,” sighed Tanvi, still holding up the crystal. “Powerful magic.”

Like all her English peers, Cecilia was a good Anglican, raised to be suspicious of anything that fell outside of church orthodoxy. A mystic rock definitely violated those parameters.

Tanvi observed, “It is a curious stone, no?” She was watching Cecilia closely. “If I were to drop it, it would shatter like glass. Yet it contains a strength beyond what the heavens themselves possess.”

Cecilia frowned. “It does look rather like dull glass,” the Englishwoman replied, wondering if Tanvi had been swindled by a cheap street merchant.

“You could see through glass,” countered the servant woman.

She was right; the pendant was largely opaque. It seemed that the light from the oil-lamps struck the stone and then was sucked inside. The pendant’s dull purple color seemed almost ugly in the soft firelight.

And yet… there were faintest sparkles deep within the little crystal. One-by-one, they flared up, then slowly faded. Like lightening bugs in a hot July evening, Cecilia thought.

As she watched, two sparkles lit at the same time. They drifted towards one another, then merged and faded as a single point of light.

“The stone is a strange one,” said Tanvi. “Sometimes, I think I hear it speak, in the faintest of whispers. Perhaps an old god is trapped within? That is a strange thought.”

The Indian woman held the pendant higher, forcing Cecilia to look slightly upwards to keep it in her field of vision. The Englishwoman felt strangely immobilized, her eyes locked on the little purple stone.

“Now observe what happens,” Tanvi noted, “when I do… this…”

The pendant began swinging back and forth, back and forth, in a slow, lazy arch.

A distant memory stirred in Cecilia. As a curious teenager, she’d once found a worn copy of Fraser’s Magazine in her father’s study. In it, there was an article about something called “hypnotism,” a word Cecilia had never seen before. The author described a process where a person could be put into a strange sleep, and then they would be under the control of the “hypnotist.” There was an ink-print of a blank-faced young lady staring as a gentleman dangled a pocket-watch before her eyes. The caption explained that the woman was being hypnotized.

Now, as Tanvi’s medallion leisurely danced before her eyes, Cecilia thought of that young woman and this strange, hypnotic sleep. Curiously, she did feel somewhat sleepy. Her feet did not seem to be able to move.

“Yes, sahiba, you begin to see,” murmured Tanvi, sounding pleased. “Stare deeper. Let the magic please your eyes. You will feel calm.”

“I—“ Cecilia started to say.

“Shhh! Do not speak,” cautioned her servant. “Not yet. For now, silence is best. The magic works best when you focus with your eyes.”

The magic works best… how? is what Cecilia wanted to say. But somehow her voice wasn’t functioning.

“Yes,” said Tanvi warmly. “You will feel it soon. A peacefulness will descend over you, sahiba. Let it flow into your mind. You are relaxing, relaxing so well.”

And then the Indian woman began a steady stream of words, telling Cecilia how the magic was embracing her, allowing her body to cleanse itself with her thoughts alone. The pendant swung back and forth before her, somehow growing larger and brighter in her field of vision. She could not look away. She could not move her head or limbs; only her eyes could sweep side-to-side, and only to track the little purple stone.

The young Englishwoman felt her legs, then her arms relax and seemingly detach from her. She felt both twenty feet tall and smaller than a dormouse at the same time. The room around her seemed to stretch out for miles in all directions. Tanvi’s constant voice flowed on, and Cecilia found that she became focused on those silken words… although she did not always remember what they said.

As the pendant grew larger, Cecilia’s confusion and trepidation melted away. As Tanvi promised, a strange peace was settling over her mind. So many things now seemed unimportant. Cecilia forgot that she was naked. She forgot she was in India. She forgot about the Maharaja, Mr. Turpin, even poor Clement. Only Tanvi swam in her thoughts. The pendant called out to her, willing her to let go, to surrender to the bliss of obedience.

“And now, sahiba,” Tanvi told her, “I will touch you on the forehead, once. When I do, you will happily do whatever I command of you. It will feel perfectly natural to obey my instructions. You will have no thoughts or desires of your own. Obey, now.”

The pendant vanished from Cecilia’s vision. At the same time, Tanvi’s thin fingers appeared, tapping the Englishwoman above the eyebrows, just once. The motion was swift and gentle.

Cecilia tried speak. Her body felt leaden, and she was powerless to do anything but blankly stare straight ahead.

“Walk to the bed,” Tanvi told her.

Suddenly, Cecilia felt the strongest urge to do exactly that. As if sleepwalking, her body turned and moved to the large bed.

“Climb on the mattress,” ordered the Indian woman. “Lie on your back.”

Once again, Cecilia was overcome with the compulsion to do as she was bid. She felt she could resist if she desired… but somehow the will to resist wasn’t there. Obeying felt so good.

As the naked Englishwoman settled onto the mattress, Tanvi climbed up beside her. There was a long ribbon hanging from the canopy above; the Indian servant woman reached up to grasp it.

“Place your head here,” she instructed, patting one of the pillows. As Cecilia shifted over to comply, Tanvi’s hands moved quickly about the ribbon.

Soon the necklace was tied to the thin strip of silk. Cecilia, staring straight up, found that the pendant was directly above her. Once again, her eyes were enslaved by the sparkling purple stone. She couldn’t look away.

“Very good, sahiba,” Tanvi said warmly. “You are feeling so relaxed and obedient. You will happily follow all of my instructions without thought or resistance. This is so, yes?”

“Yes,” Cecilia said dully. Her own thoughts felt muffled and confused.

“Yes, sahiba, yes.” The Indian woman began running a loving hand over Cecilia’s naked body. She sighed appreciatively. “When I first found this crystal, I realized that I could use it to fog the mind of whomever I wished. But sadly, the effect was only temporary. Once I removed the crystal from their vision, my victims returned to normal. Remembering nothing, of course.”

Cecilia didn’t reply. Deep within her, she knew she was being controlled, and she didn’t like it. Yet her body refused to move.

“But then,” Tanvi continued, smiling, “I learned of the crystal’s true power. It is a mind-enslaver, but only under one circumstance. If you were to… experience blossom… while in its thrall, you would lose your free will forever, sahiba. Your mind would obey me, even when you are not looking into the purple stone.” She laughed quietly. “You would be in my power for the rest of your life.”

The Indian woman’s hand slid down over Cecilia’s stomach. “Spread your legs, sahiba,” she murmured.

Cecilia’s legs parted. Tanvi’s fingers slid down over her waiting vagina.

“And now, sahiba,” the mesmerist whispered, “you are becoming aroused. Yes, so aroused. You will relax deeper, and as you relax, you will feel yourself becoming wet and desirous. Wet and desirous…”

Tanvi’s voice had become low, silky, yet commanding. Cecilia felt her own body responding, as if her mind was pushed off to the side and no longer in control. She did feel herself in heat. Her breathing quickened. The crystal pendant, still dangling before her eyes, grew larger and sparkled more.

At the same, a voice in the back of Cecilia’s mind grew frightened. Nothing of what Tanvi said made any sense—honestly, a crystal that cast a mind-spell over you once you sexually climaxed? How ridiculous!

But nonetheless, the Englishwoman sensed she was in danger.

I mustn’t climax, she numbly told herself, fighting the hypnotic spell. I mustn’t feel pleasure! I mustn’t!

Desperately, Cecilia tried to think of Clement. If only they had not been parted!

“You resist, sahiba?” Tanvi’s voice rippled. The beautiful Indian woman sounded amused. “Most understandable. But there is no resisting your own body.” Her gentle fingers slipped into the outer folds of Cecilia’s vagina. “I need only touch you, and you will be swept away…”

And Tanvi began stroking the entranced Englishwoman. Cecilia let out a shaky breath.

I mustn’t… climax… she thought again.

But the pleasure was building within her loins. Her vagina, charmed by Tanvi’s expert touch, was purring like a spoiled cat. Gentle waves of delight were tingling beneath her soft skin.

“Yes, sahiba, enjoy this gift,” Tanvi murmured. “Let go. Surrender. Allow yourself to taste this extasy, and you will be mine forever. Don’t you want to be my slave?” she asked coyly. “To have no will, except what I give you? Won’t that feel…” And here, Tanvi pressed against Cecilia’s clit. “…wonderful?”

Cecilia let out a low moan, despite herself.

The crystal pendant grew even larger in her vision. Perhaps it was Cecilia’s imagination, but it seemed as if the strange, purple stone was speaking to her, too. You will submit, it intoned, using a ghostly but powerful voice. You cannot resist the old magic. Become a slave, willingly.

Tanvi’s fingers were rubbing Cecilia faster, and the Englishwoman realized her vagina was extremely wet. Her hips were actually leaning forward, pressing into Tanvi’s touch as much as possible. Cecilia’s legs were tense. Her breathing was deep and quickening.

No, no, I mustn’t…! she desperately reminded herself.

But the pleasure Tanvi was feeding her was growing too hard to ignore. Her vagina loved the attention, singing and laughing with each stroke of the Indian woman’s fingers. Her touch felt so good, so damned good… Cecilia hadn’t experienced sexual delight like this for a long, long time.

“Let go, sahiba,” coaxed Tanvi.

Submit, demanded the crystal.

I mustn’t…! Cecilia thought feebly. Her will was losing strength.

Now Tanvi was stroking even faster, pressing harder and harder against Cecilia’s special spot. The young Englishwoman’s legs were trembling, and her back was arching. Her dry throat began moaning, “Oh…! Oh…! Oh…!” over and over.

She was losing control.

“Come now, sahiba,” chuckled the beautiful Indian. “You want to blossom, I can feel it. You desire it soooo much, yes? Give in, and let your body celebrate. Here, I will help you…”

Tanvi leaned over Cecilia’s nude, trembling form, and extended her tongue. With delicate precision, she began licking the outside of one of Cecilia’s erect nipples. Her mouth was gentle and loving. At the same time, her hand stroked even faster.

Submit, commanded the crystal.

“Ohhhhhh…!” Cecilia wailed, the last shreds of her resistance crumbling. She wanted to climax, she wanted it so badly.

This is nonsense, her jumbled thoughts said. How can a stone mentally enslave one with a sexual orgasm? It makes no sense. It is probably fine to climax.

How could anything bad happen?

That thought swept away the last concern Cecilia had. She could resist no more. Like a starving man unable to resist the smell of fresh bread, she gave in to her deepest desire.

Cecilia orgasmed.

Her hips bucked, hard. And then she felt her juices flowing, joyously, celebrating. Cecilia was shouting out loud, yet she was unaware she was doing so. Her orgasm felt like a river of wonderful delight, a parade of blissful feelings, a thundercrack of enough sexual energy to split the earth in two. Wave after wave of celebration cascaded through her, making her fingers and toes curl in sheer happiness. She thought she’d never known such wonder.

Cecilia gasped and moaned and sighed and laughed, all at the same time. She trembled, loving how her body felt and how incredible the universe felt in that moment. Her mind was swept away, and she didn’t care.

Eventually, the Englishwoman’s muscles relaxed, lowering her back onto the soft bedsheets. She sighed, a long, low sigh.

She felt wonderful.

The pleasure faded… but mercifully took a long time. Cecilia writhed about the mattress, to enjoy the lingering aftertaste of sheer joy. She felt as if the world contained nothing but delight and love.

And then…

Cecilia found herself lying on the bed, her mind returning to the world she knew. She was panting heavily. A thin layer of sweat covered her brow and back muscles.

Smiling widely, the young woman rolled over. Tanvi was still kneeling on the mattress beside her. The Indian woman was watching her carefully.

Their gazes met.

“How do you feel?” Tanvi asked levelly.

Cecilia’s grin grew even larger. “So wonderful,” she confessed. She felt her cheeks glow.

“Very good,” complimented the Indian servant woman. Her voice became steely. “Now, my slave, you will remove my clothing. And then you will pleasure me with your mouth.”

Cecilia’s mind went blank. “I obey, mistress,” she said happily.

Tanvi collected her necklace, once again slipping it around her throat. Then she reclined onto the mattress. Her bright eyes held Cecilia in a piercing, appreciative gaze.

Cecilia, feeling as if she hadn’t a care in the world, went to work. She carefully loosened the robes of her mistress, taking care to expose her darker flesh with only gentle movements. Tanvi made no move to assist, beyond lifting a leg or arm or hip when needed. The Indian woman was openly gloating over her mastery of the Englishwoman.

Her newest slave didn’t mind in the slightest. It was as if Tanvi’s commands, once spoken, sat prominently in Cecilia’s mind and could not be ignored. The young woman had not the slightest thought of resistance or disobedience. She wanted nothing but to complete her mistress’s wishes.

When Tanvi was nude, Cecilia gently spread the Indian woman’s knees. Of course, the young ballerina had never seen another woman’s vagina, let alone tasted one. But Cecilia was an imaginative girl. She knew what she would want if she were in Tanvi’s position.

So she lowered her mouth to Tanvi’s lips. She kissed the salty outside of her mistress, then pressed forward. Her probing tongue pushed into the Indian woman’s chamber, delighted to find that Tanvi was already wet.

The Indian woman sighed contentedly, closed her eyes, and bit her lip.