The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Vehicles echo along the old two-way road as Stephanie Miller gasses up her SUV. The whoosh echoes in her ears as she glances at the handful of stragglers pulling in for a stop en route to their eventual destination. Yet by and large the visitors are few and far between. Scenic routes like these aren’t in vogue anymore. It’s all about the highways these days.

A parade of anglers, kayakers, and tourists passes by as she watches the procession unfold. A few are old timers, but the vast majority she doesn’t recognize. She does know their type though. Timberlands and Eddie Bauer jackets, packets of granola stuffed conspicuously in their vests—weekend warriors.

Not that she’s much different. In her polyester khakis, white top, and hiking boots she could pass for any number of them, but she isn’t really a stranger. She knows every one of the regulars by now. Lenny, the store owner. Bruce, the cancer survivor. Roberta, the recovering alcoholic. She’s heard their stories, even met some of their children. In that sense, they’re kind of like family.

As the pump clicks off, Stephanie reaches into her purse and collects her money. She brushes aside as few stray red hairs as she saunters in.

“Hey Lenny,” She saddles up to the counter.

“Hey Steph,” The mustachioed man greets her. “hiking in the woods again?”

“’Fraid so,” Stephanie cracks a smile.

Giggles catch her attention as she spins around. She spies a pair of teenage girls huddling in the corner, whispering conspiratorially. They couldn’t be any older than sixteen or seventeen, the black eye shadow under their eyes suggesting a life spent more at Hot Topic than high school.

“What’s so funny?” Stephanie eyes them curiously.

“It’s nothing,” The raven-haired Goth waves the thought aside. “I was just telling my friend about a rumor going around town and—”

“What about it?”

The girls grow strangely quiet.

“You’re going to Willow Falls, right?”

“You mean the state park?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Well according to local legend there’s...” The girl blushes. “There’s this spirit. Nobody knows who he is, but according to lore a young bachelor died in a hunting accident a century ago. His spirit is said to wander around, choosing unsuspecting females to be his concubines. Those who agree to sleep with him become his property until they die.”

“It’s just an old wives’ tale,” Lenny interjects. “They probably heard it from their parents. Don’t pay attention to them.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind.”

Stephanie pushes the thought aside. It’s difficult to fault the kids for their active imaginations. Things are definitely slow around here if a horny ghost is all anyone has to worry about. Still, the idea is intriguing. It’d make an interesting thesis, anyway.

The redhead glances one last time at the inventory in the backseat of her car. Her rucksack is still with her, thank God. Not to mention her walking stick, chair, stove,—and visor.

Stephanie exhales in relief.

The next twenty miles are a bumpy one as the Subaru glides along the undulating hills and valleys of the Virginia countryside. It’d been her home for most of her thirty years on this planet. Her memories were filled with moments spent skipping rocks and frolicking in streams. For her, there was no other place in the world to be.

Not that it’s been an easy life.

With freckled cheeks, a slender frame and pale skin that reddens all too easily, Stephanie faced a lot of physical challenges growing up. More recently, there were economic issues as well. The market for PhDs in biology and literature wasn’t exactly growing in her part of the world. Stephanie did what she could to get by, waitressing and working part time in manufacturing facility. But her calves and thighs were all the stronger for it.

After a quick stop at the visitor’s center, the SUV finally comes to a halt near an obscure trail. In little over an hour she sets up camp. The area was secluded enough for privacy, but not so much that she can’t go for help if she needs it—Heaven forbid.

Basking in the late afternoon sun, she surveys the scene with nothing less than triumph. In such moments like these, a normal person might snap a photograph or relax. But Stephanie Miller is no ordinary traveler.

She reaches into the side pocket of her rucksack and fishes out a small rectangular object. The tape recorder had been a gift from a friend when back when Stephanie was writing in college. Her literary ambitions didn’t off, yet she still enjoyed recording the chirps and hoots of life all around her.

The wind picks up as she presses record. A faint sound emerges from the din, difficult to make out at first, but unmistakably human—and male.

“Hello,” The soft voice calls out.

Stephanie cocks her head.

“Hello,” The voice cries out again.

Stephanie chalks it up to her own overactive imagination as she crawls into her tent. Sleep overtakes her as dusk settles in, ushering her into dreams.

The vision starts out slowly at first. At first she can only make out the trees and stars. Her skin feels cool against the bare earth. A shooting star streaks along the night sky.

Stephanie becomes aware of small hands teasing her erect nipples.

How and why she came to be in this state is difficult to say. Before she can venture a guess, a pair of invisible lips plant kisses up and down her neck. The caresses continue as they wander towards her chest, sucking her tits gingerly.

A buzz of electricity courses through her body as they linger.

Though there is no corpus to speak of, she could feel the firm grip of a man’s arms holding her down firmly yet gently. The hands are definitely those of a male—sculpted, soft, but definitely assertive. They glide along her torso as it toys with her stomach, thighs—and other body parts as well.

Stephanie jolts with each touch.

Someone—or something—was definitely having their way with her. Yet Stephanie didn’t feel the least bit threatened. If anything, she felt more relaxed than ever. Perhaps she’d fallen prey to some kind of supernatural version of mind control.

The thought perishes as the ghost’s deft tongue meets her slit. Stephanie moans as it swirls the folds of her sex before darting inside. Her hips buck as it lashes her clit, eyes fluttering with bliss.

When it mounts her—and it does—its vibrating shaft produces a sensation unlike anything she’s ever felt. The creature grunts as it comes, leaving her soaked in a pool of her own come. A pleasant smile creeps along her face the drool trickles down her chin...

Rays of rosy fingered dawn rouse Stephanie from her slumber. Muddled and confused, she struggles to sort out fantasy from reality. She can’t help feeling that something happened as she slept, and yet no one is around save for the crickets and birds.

The wetness between her legs takes her by surprise. She blushes at the shame. Perhaps the rumors she heard, and the voice in the woods triggered something in her mind. Either that or she was especially horny.

Stephanie takes her chances and forgoes the underwear as she confronts the daylight. After a quick breakfast, the redhead gathers her daypack and walking stick. There is a lot of ground to cover before sundown, and she wants to cover as much as possible.

The ground crunches beneath her boots as Stephanie explores the beauty that Willow Falls has to offer. Yet every so often her mind returns to the faint voice she heard the day before. The thought threatens to distract her as she labors under the weight of her gear.

“Hello,” The voice calls out.

Stephanie freezes. Her lips tremble as a thousand violent thoughts course through her head. Goosebumps proliferate along her arms and legs. For the first time, the thought of being alone terrifies her. She wonders if she made a mistake in picking such a desolate area.

“Who’s there?” She responds.

Her skin suddenly cools as the temperature drops. The goose bumps proliferate along her spine. She calmly reaches into her pocket as she reaches into her pocket for her recorder.

“A—Augustine,” An ethereal voice emerges from the din.

“What do you want, Augustine?”

“I want...” The spirit pauses to gather his thoughts. “I want you.”

Why he desired her, and what he wanted her for remained an open question. Yet even so, Stephanie could feel herself being turned on. Her hardened nipples strain against her top. Whether from the cold or her own desire, her mood was definitely changing. Stephanie fights to keep up her guard.

“Could you be more specific?”

“I want you to—” Augustine stumbles over his words. “I mean, I need you to be...”

The atmosphere returns to normal as the spirit disappears. Without venturing any further, the ghost got cold feet. Had Stephanie spooked him?

Overwhelmed by the encounter, Stephanie packs up her belongings and guns it for home. She can’t get away fast enough as the SUV races down the interstate. Her heart raced.

Maybe what the girls told her was true after all.

Back in the safety of her townhome, Stephanie tries to make sense of what happened. Who is this Augustine? Where was he born? How did he die? Before he had passed into that undiscovered country, he was flesh and blood, possessed of all the needs and yearnings of humankind.

A thorough internet search provides some clues. His full Christian name was Augustine St. James, scion of the James railroad tycoon family. The second of four children, young Augustine was a bit of a playboy, more prone to throwing parties than hammering out deals. Devilishly handsome, with dark hair and piercing eyes, the man about town possessed a kind of animal magnetism when it came to women. More than a few shared his bed, causing all the usual drama—mostly self-inflicted.

James’ life was tragically cut short while hunting in 1913. The official report ruled his death an accident, though many felt that it was a homicide. The finger was pointed at his friend and rival Jules, who accompanied him that day. But the matter was quickly dropped, and Julius became a prominent banker before dying in 1930.

Augustine was 25.

As Stephanie digests the news, she glances at the digital recorder beside her. The voice is still faint, yet as she plays the recording over repeatedly, she thinks back to the warm embrace she felt in the woods.

She reaches under her shirt, squeezing and kneading her breasts as the recording repeats itself. Nipples strain against the soft fabric of her bra as she twists and tugs. A low growl emerges from the back of her throat. The animalistic sound catches her by surprise.

Stephanie moans.

A furtive hand sneaks under the waistband of her pants as she fondles herself. Delicate fingers swirl around the soft pink lips of her sex, playing coy. Each stroke of her labia sends a jolt through her body.

Just like in her dream.

They enter one by one, invading her slit. They prod, poke, and ream as they work in concert, ravishing the ginger. The slickness of her fingers, and her own moist labia, got a good deal to do with her excitement. The build up to orgasm is getting nearer now—as apparent as her own labored breaths.

A squirt of come coats her leg as she climaxes. The voice echoes in her head over and over as she slumps in her seat.

I want you, I want you, I want you...

In time the self-pleasure becomes a full blown ritual as Stephanie’s creamy legs dangle over the edge of her bed. Fingers caress, pet and tug as the tape drones on. The merest echo of Augustine’s voice sends her running into her bedroom. The association is almost Pavlovian now.

It was clear she was becoming aroused by the thought of being his slave. Yet despite her attempt to recreate their encounter, it wasn’t quite the same.

On a quiet June day Stephanie packs up her SUV and heads for the woods, hoping to rekindle the flame. She drops by at Lenny’s, buys a few snacks and provisions, climbs behind the wheel and off she goes. The journey seems a lot longer than usual. The anticipation gnaws at her. She wants it to be over so fast.

When she finally arrives at the campsite, it’s a relief. Her feet ache as she roughs it over the hill. But at last, she finally arrives.

She lingers a few moments, expecting Augustine’s spirit to greet her. But there is only the breezy wind. Stephanie grows despondent.

“Augustine,” She calls out. “It’s me, Stephanie.”

No answer.

“I’m sorry for leaving you,” Stephanie pleads. “It’s just that I never...had these feelings about a spirit like you before. I promise it won’t happen again. Will you take me back?”

The spirit envelopes her in warmth. She sheds her clothes without hesitation; the barest touc sending a buzz down her spine. It is too much to resist.

This time he knows what he wants—and how to get it.

Invisible fingers caress her cheeks. It’s been a while since she’s ever felt that kind of sensation before—even from a human. Her tits swell as Augustine kneads them lovingly. Stephanie’s stomach flutters.

Before you know it, she’s on the ground. Fingers circle around her stomach and wander back up again as the creature pleasures her. The game only confounds Stephanie. Is there a point to all this?

The caressing suddenly stops just above her pelvis.

“What are you waiting for!?” Stephanie growls. “Take me!”

No response.

“I’ll deflower you,” Augustine responds. “But only if you submit to me.”

Stephanie bites her lip. Submit, forever, as in for all eternity?

Yet somehow, the pain of being separated from him is worse.

“Yes,” She consents with a whisper.

A buzzing lingers over her clit as Augustine enters her. The humming is intense as he glides into her, in and out, in and out. It feels like home with him inside her. His breath tickles as he grinds into her.

She wraps her thighs around Augusti, only to be greeted with warm air. Yet the ghost still manages to hit his mark. She spreads her legs to give him space. Yet Stephanie is no slouch.

She strokes her breast with her free hand, kneading and groping as Augustine pounds her below. The twisting and caressing of her own tits spur her on and on. If only it would be like this forever...

Stephanie pricks her ears at the sound of marching boots. Stephanie barely notices the Sheriff’s deputies walking towards her. Before she even registers it, the officers haul her out of the park as she howls in protest.

“Let me go!” Stephanie thrashes against them. “Augustine, help me!”

The ghost doesn’t respond.

Stephanie’s eyes flutter as her vision adjusts gradually to the darkness. She flits her gaze to and fro as she searches the room. The whitewashed walls are unrecognizable as she glances for a sign of something familiar.

She glances at the white hospital gown with something approaching shock. She struggles to lift her hands in vain, only to be met with the stiffness of four point restraints. A series of jumbled images parade through her mind, but the pieces don’t quite fit.

The last thing she remembers is being somewhere in the woods, then...darkness. She sees snatches of herself being carried away by some malevolent force. Sometime between then and now she’d been moved here. Obviously whoever had kidnapped her had been scheming to separate her from Augustine.

But who?

Stephanie lets out a howling scream.

A pair of orderlies rushes into the room. Stephanie glances confusedly at the women in their scrubs and gloves. For all she knows they could be part of the group holding her here.

“Where am I?” Stephanie pleads. “How did I get here?”

“You’re in the hospital,” The brunette smiles sweetly.

“I got to get out of here,” She struggles against her restraints. “Where’s Augustine?”

“On a business trip,” The nurse lies.

“I need to see him,” Stephanie urges. “He promised he’d take me away with him...”

The orderlies exchange knowing looks. Stephanie couldn’t say for sure, but she swears she heard them say the words ‘thorazine’ under their breath. Her stomach tightens.

“I don’t belong here,” She pleads. “I’m not crazy. You have to believe me.”

“Everything’s going to be all right,” The brunnette rubs her forehead soothingly. “Darlene here will give you these pills and when you wake up everything’s going to be all right.”

Her glassy eye stare glassily at the ceiling as the medicine kicks in. A goofy smile creeps along her face as bits of drools dribble down her chin.

But even that doesn’t matter anymore.