Part three out now! With his friends in danger, Peter has only once chance to save them, and it will involve giving in to their dark, demonic desires...
Free Demon Mind Control Story Sample Below
With his hot friends-turned-succubi in danger, Peter chooses to give in fully to their supernatural lusts, submitting his body and soul to their demonic desires for a chance to stop the demonologists hunting them. But will that be enough to save them? Or will the three fall prey to the powerful sex magic, doomed to become slaves to their fell machinations?
"Which one are you?" he said, watching her wearily. "Amanda, or Sarah?"
"Neither," she said as she stood over him. "Though it was Sarah who gifted me her essence. My name is Cassandra. Is that good enough?"
Peter's mouth slipped open. "You all can infect others with..." he faltered. "With what you are?"
Her smile grew slightly. "Not the phrasing I'd use, but yes and no. The original four can." She nodded at him. "Those you mentioned, along with Lara and Megan. Those they create, however..." she shrugged. "Well, so far as we can tell, we cannot."
"The girl I spoke to earlier. Alicia. She is with you?"
"She is mine, yes," Cassandra said, kneeling down next to him, her raven curls sliding off her shoulders as she looked down at him. "But who are you? I hadn't known that the two companions had taken a..." her eyes slid down Peter's bound, naked body. "Consort? Pet?"
"Friend. I'm their friend," Peter said, looking away. "And my name is Peter." He could feel her shadows touching his side, but only just. Most of them stayed a distance away from him, flowing in a vague haze that he could see if he focused.
"Peter, then. I see they've barely touched you, Peter." Her green eyes glimmered as she arched a brow. "The poor girls must be starving if you're the only one they've indulged in..."
Peter shook his head. There was no time for this. "Look. I don't know why you're here, but if you're going to help," he rose his cuffed wrists. "Then please. Help."
She let her eyes drift to the handcuffs. Looking away, Cassandra's smile grew playful as she rose her hands away from him. Peter glanced up and watched the shadows go from afterimage to a shifting, inky reality. The dark tendrils flowed out from whatever extra-dimensional space they occupied to curly in and around the cuffs and the chains binding them to the lectern.
"I apologize," Cassandra said. "My curiosity overtook me."
Peter looked away, shielding his eyes as the sound of the chains broke with a sound like a dozen ringing bells. His arms jerked suddenly, and he looked up to see the dark shadows literally bending the metal cuffs up and off his wrists.
He brought his hands down, seeing the dark bloody lines around his wrists. "I didn't know they could do that."
"They can do many marvelous things," she said cheerfully as the shadows writhed in the air, withdrawing back from reality. She looked back down at his naked body. "I'm afraid they can't make clothes, however."
"Don't worry about me," he said, pulling his legs up to rise. "Those people have taken Megan. You have to..." he faltered, realizing what he was about to ask. "You have to stop them. Save her."
Those emerald eyes regarded him, shimmering like back-lit jewels. "I'm afraid I can't do that, Peter."
He half stumbled as he rose, catching himself on the edge of a nearby table. "Why? You don't know what they're going to do to her."
Cassandra rose, extending a slender hand to help steady him. He felt that familiar electric sensation where her black-nailed fingers touched. "To be fair, neither do you. But if you wish to know, I am hindered in two ways."
She rose one finger. "The first is prudence. Sarah. Amanda. All of us. We're still figuring out what we are. What we can do. These... demonologists," her lips twisted at the word, "they've been studying this hidden aspect of reality for much longer than we've existed. The longer we evade their gaze, the better."
With a sigh, she added, "But ever if that weren't the case. There's another problem." She rose a second finger. "My Mistress. I was reborn through the gift of Sarah's essence into me, and as such, am bound to her will."
Peter stared at the succubus. "Sarah doesn't want you helping them?"
"Not precisely. Your friends made it quite explicit to Sarah that they didn't want any involvement with her, a wish she—and thus I—must respect." She waggled her raised digit. "I've no control over that."
Frowning, Peter said, "That's insane. You know this isn't the way she meant that."
She nodded. "I do. And it doesn't matter. Things work... differently with us now. Whatever this other thing that makes up part of us now, it is bound by intention. Words can bind us, and my Mistress gave her word to leave your two friends alone."
Peter kneeled down, grabbing his clothes, even as he felt his heart sink. "So you're saying even if you wanted to help, which you don't, you couldn't because of a promise Sarah made."
"Precisely," she said smoothly.
Peter stood slowly, slipping on his pants and buttoning them. His hands shook as they did. "I appreciate you freeing me. I do," he said, looking at the demon. "But if you can't help me free Megan, then we have nothing else to talk about."
She said nothing at first, her glowing green eyes inscrutable as they gazed at him. Finally he gave up, remembering how precious little time he had. "Thank you," he said, as he walked past her towards the stairs.
"How about some advice?" her voice rose from behind him.
He paused, glancing back at her. "What?"
"Your friends? They're starving themselves for your sake." She slowly walked towards him, and Peter realized, even through his fear and exhaustion, that he could smell her. She smelled like spiced vanilla and something more; something that made his heart flutter. "I know how deep my hunger runs. How much it's grown. They've barely touched you. And they've grown weak because of it."
"What are you saying?" he said, suddenly realizing how close she had drawn.
Her voice grew low. "I'm saying they've fed on you so little, you could hardly be considered theirs." She licked her lips, a slow, sensual motion that caused his cock to twitch. "With just a little effort, I bet I could push through their claim over you. I could make you mine. I could show you what true ecstasy feels like. True submission."
Peter's throat ran dry, and as her darkness collected around him, he truly understood how dangerous these creatures could be. Understood that if he thought she was an ally, he was sorely mistaken. He could feel the soft pressure. The dark tendrils pushing on something in his mind.
"Stop it," he said. It wasn't loud. It wasn't angry. But still it bore more force than he thought he held within him.
The words made her step back, glancing away like he'd just slapped her. Peter pulled back, getting ready to run, but when she returned her gaze to him, her smile was wider than ever.
"I love my pets. Each and every one." Her fingertips rested on her chin. "But I have to admit, I'm jealous. Those two do not know what they have."
"I'm sorry," he said, drawing back up several stair steps. "I don't have time for games. Someone I love is in danger. I have to help them."
"What are you going to tell Lara?" she said as Peter turned to leave.
"I don't know," he said.
"She's the only one who can help you, you know. If you want any hope of saving Megan, it'll have to be the both of you to do it."
Peter hesitated, then with a trembling voice said, "I know. But I don't want to put her in danger, too."
"Then you'll need to do what you can to best help her. Do what you know will best help her."
He looked back at her one last time. Her eyes were glowing brightly. "If you want your little triad to come out of this intact, you'll need to work together. And you'll need to make sure she isn't starving."
Peter felt his stomach sink. He knew what she meant. He had known before she had even said it. If they were going to save Megan, Lara would need to do the thing she said they would never do. Do the thing they were most afraid of.
She would have to feed on Peter, and she would have to feed deep.
***
He found Lara exiting her night class on the other side of the library. She was at the end of a flowing crowd moving through the double door. When her eyes met his, Peter knew she sensed something was wrong.
She took his hands in hers. "Where's Megan?"
Peter didn't want to say the words. They burned in his mouth. "They took her, Lara. The History people. The demonologists."
The pain he saw in Lara's eyes hurt worse than a blow. Her entire body shook, and she let out a small sob as she stepped back. She turned to shield her flickering eyes from being seen by the passing students. He saw her shadows in that other place, however, writhing in despair.
She wiped her eyes, and when she turned back, Peter saw the wetness there. In Peter's mind, he heard Lara speak. Show me, came the words. And tell me what happened.Like this.
Peter described the events as they walked. The auditorium. Ellis and her lackeys. Cassandra. She took in his words, but her focus remained on the path ahead of them, almost bowling over other students there for late night study sessions.
As they walked, Lara reached her hand down to take Peters, clasping it tightly. The tingling was still there. But it was different, somehow. There was more heat in it.
There was no one near the auditorium when they reached it, and Peter quickly saw why. Drawn—on a notice board of all things—was a strange symbol in red permanent marker. Shifting from curves to angles, it hurt his head to look at.
I think that's supposed to keep people out, he sent to Lara.
Lara gave it a passing glance. Peter saw her shadows run over it, and the red marker sizzled, popped, and burned away into a thin black smoke. "Yeah," she said out loud. "It would have done that."
Cassandra was missing from the auditorium, though this did not surprise Peter. He watched Lara walk back and forth across the stage, staring at places on the ground and around the stairs.
"Why did they do this?" Lara said, running her hand along the marred section of the stairs where Megan had thrown the desk.
He glanced after her, trying to see what she was seeing, but with no luck. "To study you, I think. But I don't know what that means. The way they talked, I don't think it's good."
Lara's lip trembled. "But we didn't do anything. We're the ones who did it right. Why couldn't they just leave us alone?"
Peter shook his head. "I don't think they care. About right or wrong. About hurting people or not. I think... I think they're just looking for power."
"We just wanted to be left alone," Lara said, her hand grasping the metal arm of one seat. Peter watched it bend in her grip, twisting like rubber until it snapped with the sharp crack of torn metal.
Peter walked to her, resting a hand on her shoulder. "We're going to get her back, Lara."
"I want to hurt them," Lara said, her voice small. "I want to take them and drain them all till they're empty husks."
The words Peter said next were hard. Hard, because deep down he wanted to see that, too. "We can't do that, Lara. It'd only justify what they did."
Lara swallowed hard, still not looking at Peter. "If I go near any of them right now, I won't be able to keep from doing it. I'm too angry. I'm too..." she stopped suddenly.
"Hungry," Peter finished for her. "You're too hungry. Cassandra said with as little as you'd taken from me, you'd have to be starving. How long have you two been holding back?"
Only then did Lara turn to him with her smoldering brown eyes. "For... for a few weeks now." She stood and took a step away from him. "It worked well at first. It really did." She sighed. "But we didn't expect it to get worse."
Lara stared at him, and he could feel her hunger—her desire for his body, his energy—pulsing like a heartbeat inside her. "But we had each other. And we had you. We thought maybe it was fine. Maybe it was better if it kept us from... changing like the others."
Peter looked away from her gaze. "But you've both still changed. You've just kept yourself so weak you've not been able to tell."
"It doesn't matter," Lara said, her hand resting on one of the auditorium seats. Her fingers dug into it, the hard plastic cracking like balsa wood. "It's all gone. It's all ruined."
"It's not," Peter said, forcing himself to take a step towards her. "We can save Megan."
He knew Lara saw inside his mind. Saw that she knew what he meant. "No. We can't. We promised. I promised."
"You wouldn't be taking anything from me," he said, taking another step. She trembled as he stepped into her spectral aura. He saw her nipples harden under her top. "I'd be giving it to you. Giving you what you need. So we can save the person we both love."
"Y-you can't," she stammered. "I can't do it. I can't hurt you, Pete. I can't... do what I'd end up doing."
"What you want to do," Peter reminded her. "For yourself, and to save Megan."
"Stop," she said, backing up against the wall. "You don't know what it's like. What it means. It's not something I could undo. Please. Don't offer it to me. I'm... I'm not strong enough to say no..."
Peter reached out for her, and she let out a tiny cry as his hand touched her soft, rosy cheek. He pulled her to him, putting his arms around her and holding her tight. Her breasts pressed against his chest; her shadows wrapped around him like a blanket. "I know what you're afraid of," he whispered. "But my mind is still my own. It won't be like the others. It's a gift. From me. To you."
"I don't want to lose you," she said, her voice almost a whimper.
He held her face, feeling her electric touch along his body. "You won't. You never will. You never could. And we won't lose Megan either. Whatever it takes. We'll get her back."
He pulled her in for a kiss. Lara's lips parted; her tongue touched his, and he felt the hunger, a hunger with no beginning and no end. Soul deep, soul wide—it was a hunger that wanted all of him. A hunger he had opened himself to.
Peter didn't know what to expect. In those first few seconds, with her shaking in his arms, he thought she'd take him, tear his clothes from him, and ravage him. But she didn't. What happened was soft. Gentle. The silk of her touch, her shadows, her very existence; it was like he was being carried away.
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