The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Daniel was early, and had elected to wait for Jenn at the restaurant bar, which was still empty. Nothing surprising there, since the restaurant was one of the small town’s very good—and very expensive —places that in the main catered to parents. This was where you brought your well-off parents when they came to visit. The restaurant was therefore exceedingly busy in early January, at the beginning of spring, and in late May, when visits were most common. The rest of the year, it was exceedingly quiet.

And so it was tonight, in the first week of December. Because it was Saturday, Daniel was not actually alone in the restaurant, but there could not have been more than a dozen other people. The restaurant staff had had the insight of drawing thick burgundy drape across the dining room, cutting it in half and achieving a sense of intimacy.

Daniel adjusted his tie and tugged on his jacket, not used to the feel of a suit. He felt vaguely ridiculous, like he was playing dress-up. The evening warranted some discomfort, however, first because of the importance of the conversation that would occur—it had been almost two months now that Jenn had told him about getting the Blumberry, and they both had had time to think and reflect about the future they wanted—and second because it had been too long since he and Jenn had gone out like grown-ups, as Serena liked to call it.

Perhaps it was his thinking of their friend, via some cosmic synchronicity, but Daniel’s cell phone rang at that moment, and he saw Serena’s name flash on the screen. He answered.

“Hey Serena, how goes it?”

“Pretty great, actually.” He could hear traffic noises in the background. “That Snowman guy, the one that got in touch with Lake for drugs and that arranged for Marjorie to go see Lake—”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Well, you may also remember that I called him earlier this week, saying that I was interested in hiring Marjorie—MD—for a gig, and he just called me back, and he said sure and to come to the Spirited Flesh, where MD is scheduled to dance tonight so I can have a look at her and we can discuss business. I’m headed there now. Do you want to come with?”

“Sorry, can’t. I’m waiting for Jenn at Da Maurizio. We’re having this big dinner date...”

“Oh, right, right. It’s tonight.”

Daniel could hear the disappointment in her voice. “Can you call Radhu?”

“He’s still too out of it to leave his dorm room. No, I guess I’ll go alone. It’s okay, I’ll keep you informed, all right? At least I got my pepper spray with me. You know, in case Mister Snowman gets fresh? And Daniel—good luck for tonight. Daniel? Are you still there?”

He was, but only physically. His arm was still holding the phone, but it hung limply by his side. His eyes, and those of the whole male contingent in the restaurant, were riveted on the vision of pure loveliness that was currently strolling across the room towards him. It was Jenn, of course, resplendent in a dark red evening gown that hugged her body like a glove, baring just the merest hint of cleavage but exposing her shoulders and sleek arms, and below flaring slightly at the hips and continuing down to just below her knees. A scarf, nylons, and a pair of spike heels completed the picture. The click-clack of those heels on the floor grew louder in the sudden silence, and Daniel remained motionless at his girlfriend’s approach.

“Your mouth is open,” she said, after stopping right in front of him. She seemed pleased with herself.

“Huh...”

Jenn reached up with a hand, and gently pushed on his chin, closing his mouth. “There, much better. You look less goofy now.”

“Huh... right... I mean... wow. You look... wow...”

She laughed. “That’s my native English speaker! Thank you. And may I say, you look quite dashing yourself. Shall we sit? And why are you holding your phone?”

“What phone? Oh, right. Serena.” He lifted the phone to his ear, eyes not leaving Jenn’s. “Listen, I gotta go. Be careful, okay?”

Jenn had gotten closer to Daniel, and her mouth was near the phone. “Bye Serena,” she tossed in.

Serena laughed at the other end. “Okay, go, you two, and have fun. I’ll call you later.”

Jenn never gave Daniel time to answer, tilting her head a fraction to the right and give him a slow languorous lick on the lips, her eyes looking deep into his. Arousal shot through him like electricity.

“I believe we have a seat waiting for us?” she said, after giving him several seconds to recover.

He nodded, then shook his head as if to clear it. “Yes. We do. And I think that’s our waiter right there waiting for us.”

A waiter was indeed waiting for them, and showed them to their table. He held the chair for Jenn, and took advantage of it to steal a surreptitious glance down her cleavage and, Daniel had the sneaking suspicion, would have happily stolen a look at her thighs had she pulled her dress up to sit. Daniel was in too jovial a mood to mind, and Jenn seemed her usual oblivious self.

They ordered some wine, and the waiter left them to ponder the menu.

Meanwhile, Serena was coming within sight of the Spirited Flesh. She was alone. She had determined that she would be safe enough, banking on the fact that it was Saturday night and that the strip club would be full.

The outside of the club had not changed since the last time she was there with Daniel and Radhu, when they had come here upon learning that Marjorie would be on stage, almost two months ago. A group of young men were mingling about, leaning against the wall of the building and smoking and ogling every girl that walked by. They spotted Serena immediately, and hooted when they saw her headed for the club’s door. Serena gave them a look that only seemed to egg them on.

“Hey there, pretty lady! You gonna dance tonight? Wouldn’t mind seeing those bags of yours bounce around! Perhaps you and I can meet in the back and I can show you what a white dick can do?” The man grabbed his crotch while his buddies laughing drunkenly.

Serena elected for simply arching an eyebrow, and opened the door to the club. The bouncer looked at her, giving her the once over, then let her in after taking her money.

Inside, everything was as she remembered it, albeit more crowded. Few seats were available—but Serena had no interest in sitting down anyways. On stage, a couple of blonde dancers with large artificial breasts were kissing, hands rubbing each other’s almost naked bodies. Half the patrons were watching the show, the others busy chatting or negotiating for lap dances. The evening was still early.

Serena flagged the man working the bar.

“You have anyone around named Snowman?”

The barman gave her a distracted look. “Not that I know of.”

“You sure? Serena’s asking. Snowman must have mentioned he was expecting me.”

The barman looked at her for five long seconds. “Snowman told me to tell you to meet him in the back. Room nine.”

Serena turned to the back of the club. “And how do I...?”

The barman pointed to a pair of red doors. He signaled to a large man standing beside them, then pointed to Serena. The large man nodded once.

“Thanks,” said Serena.

She was excited, the thought of confronting someone that at least could give her some concrete information about Marjorie, perhaps even where to find the poor girl, made her heart race. Calm down, girl, she told herself—he may not even want to talk to you. She had no plan to speak of. Too many unknowns. But Snowman was a man, and unless he was gay, that gave her a slight advantage. She unfastened a few buttons of her shirt, and pressed her breasts upwards to produce more cleavage. She did not particularly relish the thought of having to seduce him, but she really had nothing else with which to exert leverage. They said all was fair in love and war—that went double for journalism and searching for friends.

The man guarding the double doors let her through, after staring her down and letting his eyes slide down to her chest, following the swell of her breasts. Serena did not rise to the bait—her goal was Snowman, and she would not let herself get distracted. She stepped through the doors.

The noise from the club immediately dropped to a background buzz. She was in a carpeted hallway leading to a T-junction perhaps a hundred feet ahead. It reminded her of a generic hotel floor, with doors down the corridor, every one of them closed and numbered. As she walked down looking for room nine, a couple emerged from one of the rooms, the man looking like a used-cars salesman complete with rumpled suit and questionable tie, and the girl hanging on his arm—either a stripper here at the club or a date with atrocious fashion sense— wearing a bikini and platform plastic heels, blonde hair straight out of a bottle. She looked tired.

When they crossed her path, heading for the door, Serena nodded to the girl, who dismissed Serena with a defiant glance. Serena was surprised by the reaction, and then she asked herself how she would have reacted had the roles been reversed. Had the girl read pity in Serena’s eyes? She decided on the spot to pitch a story about the strippers here at the club to her editor. That should get the guy’s interest.

She felt the man’s eyes on her backside after passing the couple, and shook her head. She’d need a good shower after this, she thought. One figured that after spending all of one’s time with horny college students one would get inured to such treatment, but for all their crassness, the college students she hung out with tended to inject a sense of levity and fun in their sexism and machismo, something utterly missing from this environment. Here, despite the fancy surroundings and the upbeat music and the bright colors, despair and hopelessness clung to everything.

She slid a hand in her purse when she reached the door marked nine, and kept it on her pepper spray bottle. She knocked then opened the door.

The small room was poorly lit, and held only a cushioned chair in its center, obviously intended for private lap dances. Serena had almost expected a cot in the corner for quickies. Then again, the carpeting was thick enough that it probably served as a reasonable alternative.

There was a young man sitting in the chair, about eighteen years of age, with short hair and a good physique. He kept tapping his foot and looking around nervously. He trained his eyes on her as soon as she entered the room. “Serena?”

“Who’s asking?” She remained by the door, looking around.

“Come in. We may need some privacy for this.”

“We’ll see. You Snowman?”

He nodded. He still looked nervous. “I am. You’re here about MD, right? You asked about her availability?”

Serena stepped into the room. Finally, some answers. “I am. I’m looking for entertainment for a party, and I’ve heard she’s very very good. You... I’m sorry—you just weren’t who I was expecting.” Snowman had sounded older on the phone.

“Well, there’s a reason for that. I’m not really him.”

Before Serena could react, a pair of strong arms grabbed her from behind, pinning her own arms down. By reflex, she kicked back with her foot and the heel of her boot sank into a shin, and she was rewarded with a scream of pain from the man behind her. She bolted as soon as she felt the arms letting her go, and was at the door before the young man in the chair had time to move. The door was locked. Before she could turn around, she was grabbed again, and a wet cloth was pressed against her face. She tried to shout, but the pungent smell made the world spin once, then twice, and then everything went dark.

“So here we are,” said Jenn. They had finished their meal, and had ordered desert. By some unspoken understanding, they both recognized it was time to talk.

“Here we are indeed,” replied Daniel. He cleared his throat. “I’ll start. First off, let me just say that the last two months has been utterly mind-bogglingly fantastic. If your plan was to hook me more deeply, it worked like a charm. If the last weeks are a preview of what life is going to be like, then I’d be a moron to pass it up. And that’s even if I weren’t crazy in love with you.”

Jenn grinned, and sipped her wine. Daniel continued.

“And that’s the point, really. Everything else is academic. I love you, Jennifer Hansen, and I can’t bear the thought of being away from you. And I know that the Blumberry is like a dream coming true, and I don’t want to be the reason that you don’t get a shot at that dream. So I say: onto Austin.”

Jenn shook her head. “I love you too, my sweet little romantic. And I also want to see you happy, and if passing up on the scholarship and staying on the East Coast is what it takes, I’ll happily do it with no second thought. On the plus side, it would give me a chance to write that Great American Novel. I’m already accumulating a few ideas. By the way, can the Great American Novel be erotica?”

“All right, then. So we’re pretty much where we were a month ago. Great. It’s a good thing I got this job offer from this place spitting distance from Austin then, to do the kind of thing I want to try doing. That’ll save us some painful back and forth.”

“What?”

It was Daniel’s turn to grin. “I had a phone interview with them last week, and they want to fly me down after Christmas for a more in-depth chat, but they said the job is mine if I want it. I figure we could make it a joint trip and go visit UT Austin at the same time.”

Jenn was staring at him wide eyed. “Okay—details, lover, details!”

And he gave her the rundown of the Advanced American Institute for Democracy, what he had learned, the work for democratization and increased access to resources and facilities and the work in minority communities to train them and teach them and get them to participate in the civic process. Daniel had warmed up to this more hands-on approach to practical politics, almost activism, a far cry from the more theoretical work he had been focussing on at the university. He felt the change would do him good.

Jenn remained silent when he had finished, looking at her glass of wine, lost in thought. Then she looked back up at him. “It’s perfect, then. Everything is falling into place. Wow.”

“You sound like you weren’t sure it would?”

She shrugged. “Crossroads are funny. Never can tell what’s going to happen when you get to one. I was serious, you know—I would have given it up to stay with you.”

His tone of voice matched hers when he replied. “Which is what made it that much easier to decide. I would have too. You’re worth any sacrifice.”

Jenn grinned, stood up, and went around the table. She leaned down towards him. “You so know how to talk to girls.” She pressed her lips to his, and the soft kiss turned into a long soulful one that made Daniel completely forget he was seated in a rather classy restaurant.

Jenn ran a finger down his face, a playful gleam in her eyes. “I’ll be right back, lover.” She turned around and walked away.

Daniel’s gaze followed he swaying form, and he admired the way her dress clung to her body like a sheath. She was perfect, and she was his. Or he was hers. An older lady at a nearby table gave him a look, and he shrugged sheepishly at her by way of apology for their display of affection, not feeling sorry for one second.

He took out his cell phone, and sent Serena a quick text message asking if everything was okay. She did not answer. Probably deep in investigative mode, he figured. He hoped she was successful with her meeting. She had been quite upset by what Daniel had told her happened to Marjorie at the NADA thing, when she collapsed screaming in pain for no visible reason. Serena was worried something really bad had happened, and it was eating her up.

He looked up from his phone when he heard the tell-tale sound his girlfriend’s heel. Jenn sat back down at their table.

“Here, this is for you.” She extended a hand, waiting for him to extend his. He did, and she handed him a wad of red material. He looked at it, not understanding, and Jenn’s Cheshire-cat smile did not afford him any clue. When he unfolded it, he blushed as he immediately recognized it for what it was—a shockingly sheer red thong. He pocketed it quickly, and glanced around to see if anyone had noticed. The old lady from earlier was looking at them with a disapproving frown on her face. The older man accompanying her was looking at Jenn with wonder.

“What the hell are you doing?” whispered Daniel.

“You can be such a prude sometimes!” Jenn’s smile grew wider. “Life right now is perfect. Everything’s perfect. And you know me—when I’m happy, I get horny. You don’t mind it when I’m horny, do you?”

Daniel swallowed, thinking about his girlfriend naked underneath her dress, and was taken with the sudden urge to stand on his chair and loudly announce that he loved this girl.

“Besides, I think I behaved very well. I did give them to you, after all. I toyed with the idea of just laying them on the table, you know, so that the waiter would see them, and perhaps start fantasizing about me.”

Speaking of the devil, the waiter arrived just then, carrying a bottle of champagne. Jenn looked up in surprise. “What’s this?”

“Something to celebrate with.”

The waiter popped open the bottle, and poured them two glasses. Jenn took hers, Daniel his. “To the Blumberry,” he said.

“To the Institute for Democracy,” she replied.

“To the most wonderful girl in the world.”

“To the most charming man in the universe.”

Daniel took a deep breath. “I think it’s only fair that I give you something in exchange for what you gave me a few minutes ago...”

“Huh, I don’t think we girls have quite the same underwear fetish you guys do, lover.”

“Then it’s a good thing it isn’t what I had in mind...” He gently set a small box down on the table before her, and opened it. “Miss Jennifer Hansen, will you marry me?”

Jenn’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, her eyes wide. She stared at the ring nestled inside the box for a long time, then up at Daniel, who despite all of his blustering was nervous.

She looked up at him, softness in her eyes. “Of course I will.”

Daniel let out a breath he was not aware he had been holding. He grinned madly. She grinned right back, and before long they were both giggling like teenagers in love.

She took out the ring from the book, and slipped it on. “It’s beautiful,” she said.

“I did have some help in making the final choice.”

“Serena?”

“Who else?”

“Wait... she helped you choose? It’s not what I would have expected her to go for.”

“Indeed. I had three choices down, and I went for the one she liked the least, the one with the simplest design. If it had been up to her, you’d have ended up with a huge rock that probably would have messed up your balance.”

Jenn’s smile slowly turned into a frown.

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, I gave you something, and then you gave me something in return, but I feel I got the most out of the exchange. Hardly seems fair.”

“I wouldn’t quite put it that way, to be honest.”

“No, no, no. This partnership should start on an equitable footing.”

“What do you suggest?”

“That we take care of the bill, and we go find somewhere quiet where I can show you in exquisite detail how much I’m looking forward to spending the rest of my life with you, Mister Malcolm. I mean, I already took care of removing one particular... obstacle...”

Daniel motioned for the check.

When Serena came to, it took her a while to realize that what she was seeing an old wooden ceiling. She could feel straps on her body holding her down, but they were overkill. She could not move. Her limbs simply did not obey her commands. Except for her head, that she could move, though doing so made her dizzy. What happened? The last thing she could remember was being at the Spirited Flesh—Snowman!

“Ah, Miss Banks. Welcome back.”

Serena turned her head in the direction from which the voice had come. The speaker, a man perhaps in his late thirties, black hair, wearing a white lab coat, was sitting on a stool before a computer console lost on a desk amidst electronic equipment, notes, and what looked like home chemistry sets. The man looked familiar.

“I’m sorry about the rather heavy-handed way my friends treated you back at the club. They can be rather juvenile at times. Nevertheless, you wanted to talk to me?”

She finally recognized him. He was wearing a lab coat instead of a suit, but this was the man they saw with Marjorie in the back alley of the strip club a month ago.

“You’re... Snowman?” Speaking was difficult.

“The same,” the man replied. “Although you can call me Cargyle. Doctor Cargyle. Snowman was a bit of a joke carried too far too long. How are you feeling?”

The doctor stood and walked to Serena, putting two fingers on her neck as if checking her pulse, a rather redundant gesture since she seemed to be hooked up to a beeping monitor displaying all her vital signs.

“Where’s... where’s Marjorie?”

The doctor looked at Serena silently for several seconds. “Yes, this is what brought you here, isn’t it? Your quest to find your friend?” He shook his head. “I told those kids it was a bad idea to keep her activated her for such long periods of time. Besides the risk of psychotic breakdown, I was worried someone would notice when she disappeared for long periods of time. Like you did. But does anyone listen to the doctor? No, of course not. They all like the doctor and especially all the goodies he brings to the party and they are willing to welcome him to the ranks, but listen to him? Blasphemy—can’t have that.”

Serena had no idea what the doctor was going on about. But the more he talked, the more chance she had of learning something useful, and it bought her extra time. She was clearly in some sort of laboratory, as suggested by all the equipment, both computerized and medical, although not a very advanced one. It looked as if it had been set up in a basement. In fact, the walls were stone, indicating a cellar. Ever the journalist, she tried to observe and remember as many details as she could so as to be able to later reconstruct where she had been.

Her endeavors were almost forgotten when she saw who was lying down in a gurney a few feet from her. Marjorie! The photographer looked asleep, except that her eyes were open and staring up at the ceiling, utterly expressionless.

“Marjorie! Hey Marge. It’s me, Serena! I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Marge! You okay? Marge? Fuck, what have you done to her, you bastard?” She still could not move anything but her head, so she settled for following Snowman—Doctor Cargyle—with eyes spitting venom as he circled her and approached the unresponsive Marjorie.

“Yes, well,” said the doctor, after running a finger down Marjorie’s face, who did not react to the touch. “I guess you did find your friend after all, Miss Banks. I have to congratulate you on your perseverance. As to what happened to her, to be honest, I am not entirely sure. If you allow me to be glib, then I would say that most of her brain is fried. Utterly and irremediably fried.” He shook his head. “I told you, they don’t listen to me. I warned them that the programming I give the girls is crude—I mean, look at this equipment, it’s practically prehistoric—and becomes unstable when a girl is kept activated for too long. Marjorie was my latest experiment in making the programming more stable, by using a slightly different technique to imprint behavior changes on a more permanent basis, but she was still not ready. They wanted someone that they could not only enjoy for themselves but also send out to parties and other events and provide the frat with some money, or status, or something. Who knows? So they put her up to it. I tried to stay with her and keep an eye on her, but to no avail. Now, her programming is pretty much all she has left.”

“Programming? Girls? Oh my God—the dick girls! You’ve hypnotized them!”

Doctor Cargyle looked at her with a mix of admiration and disdain. “Dick girls! What a stupid term. But what else can we expect from frat boys that can’t be bothered to change their underwear? I’m impressed you figured out that much, Miss Banks. But I have to correct you on one point. It’s not hypnosis. It’s a mixture of drugs, direct neural stimulation, and sensory programming. Somewhat artisanal, given my setup, and I guess to a layman the effects might look the same as hypnosis.”

“So you just take girls and what? Turn them into whores?”

Doctor Cargyle looked pained. “No, Miss Banks, that’s not the idea. I’m not turning them into anything. I’m simply continuing my research into psychoneurology, trying to crack the code of the brain. The potential benefit for mankind is incalculable: senility, Alzheimer’s, schizophrenia, crippling anxiety, all could be a thing of the past. But I ran into some... huh... problems with former employers of mine, and the Delta Iota Kappa fraternity was kind enough to provide me a sanctuary to let me keep a low profile while my troubles blew over. As a small token of gratitude for their kindness, I agreed to provide them with... well, you know.”

“The dick girls are programmed to be whores for the frat boys. How nice. And thus, the bracelets...”

Doctor Cargyle nodded. “Yes, the bracelets.” He looked over at a box on the corner of the desk, which contained a large supply of silver charms. “They serve as an anchor for the programming—crude, but effective. And those girls are but a small price to pay to further science. Besides, they are unaware of the programming they have been subjected to, don’t remember the time spent while activated, and are generally unharmed by their experiences.”

“Except Marjorie.”

The doctor frowned. “Yes, except Marjorie.”

He looked down at Marjorie, who was still staring off into space, completely unaware of anything going on around her. A faraway look of his own on his face, Doctor Cargyle ran a finger over her lips, then inserted the tip between them. Instantly, Marjorie closed her eyes and started his finger into her mouth, in a clear mimicry of a perfectly executed blow job, thrusting her head up to meet the unmoving finger, twirling her tongue around the tip and on the underside of the invading digit as it went in. Her hips were moving in time with her sucking, and she moaned softly. When the doctor pulled his finger out, her tongue trailed after it, and a whine of frustration escaped the girl. Then she went back to her catatonic state.

“A shame, really,” continued the doctor, wiping his finger on his lab coat, “she was such a wonderful research subject. And imaginative, too. You see, programming someone is an art. You don’t want a robot. Well, some folks do want robots. But for best effect, you want someone that can take elements of their own personality and wrap them around their programming, so that the programming is enhanced— magnified by whatever personality traits are in the subject. It’s really beautiful how it works. In Marjorie here, it was almost a perfect combination. She took to sex like a fish to water. Did you know she had slept with only two men before the fraternity got its hands on her? You can say we opened her eyes to the world out there. Of course, now, she is no longer in any kind of state to appreciate it, except at the most primitive level. Such a shame.”

Doctor Cargyle moved a hand to Marjorie’s legs and slipped it under the short grey dress she had on. She did not react, nor show any emotion until he touched her crotch, or so Serena surmised. She saw Marjorie throw her head back against the gurney, arch her spine, and spread her legs while pulling up her knees. She thrust her hips forward, and a moan escape her as the doctor worked his hand rhythmically. He was finger fucking her, that was pretty clear, and she was enjoying every second of it, that was equally clear. Her moans grew gradually more intense, her trashing wilder, her pelvic thrusts more violent, until her mouth locked into an O of surprise and she tensed up like an elastic band about to snap before letting out a wail as a massive orgasm hit her and caused her to shiver uncontrollably until finally she collapsed back onto the gurney, eyes closed, a serene smile on her face. The doctor pulled his hand out from under her dress, and he again wiped his wet fingers on his lab coat.

“Amazing how responsive she still is, no? She’s essentially catatonic until she’s touched in a sexual way, and then she goes into the automatic part of her programming. I am not sure exactly the mechanisms at play here—by all accounts, even her programming should be disabled. And yet...” He sighed. “If only I had more time with her, I might be able to learn from this event. Alas, it has been decided that we must get rid of her.”

The doctor looked genuinely sad, but Serena was certain it was not because of the ruined life lying before him, but rather his ruined experiment. She was angry, and not a little bit scared. “What are you going to do, kill her?”

The doctor reacted as if he had been slapped. “Dear Lord, no! What do you think I am? A murderer? No, the fraternity has arranged to have her transported to a facility where she will still be useful, even in her degenerate condition. Her only skill right now is sexual satisfaction, and she’s been sold to a group in East Asia that will employ her in a sexual-services facility that caters to more, shall we say, extreme tastes than normal.”

Serena was aghast. “You’ve sold her into slavery? That’s... you’re a monster!”

“She will be useful, and have a purpose. Other than that, she’s completely brain dead. At least, this way, she gets to give pleasure, and as you saw, receive it.”

The man was insane, Serena realized. She willed her body to struggle against her bonds, with no effect. When she looked up at the doctor, he was filling a syringe carefully.

“What are you going to do to me?”

The doctor flipped the syringe and flicked the needle with a finger to remove any air bubble. “Well, Miss Banks, you must admit that you have been something of a pain lately, and you have uncovered more about my presence here than I find comfortable. Granted, I do have a tendency to talk too much. Now, since I need a new subject for my research, seeing as my former subject is now out of service, you will fill that role nicely. I have been meaning to experiment with selective memory alteration anyways, so we can ensure that you will not remember what has transpired tonight, or whatever happened to your friend Marjorie. And if we can convince the frat brothers to treat you well, you should not suffer from the adverse effects that Marjorie here has.”

He glanced at Marjorie, still motionless on her gurney, then turned to Serena. “You are a beautiful woman, Miss Banks, and the brothers here will be more than happy to have you are around as their new girl.”

The doctor tied an elastic band high on Serena’s arm, then set the needle of the syringe against the skin in the crook of her elbow. Before she could fully comprehend what the doctor had in store for her, a wave of dizziness engulfed her, and in the last few minutes before the darkness claimed her for the second time in just a few hours, she felt the doctor snapping a bracelet on her wrist and welding it shut.

Daniel barely had time to unlock the door to their place before Jenn attacked him. Her kisses were feverish, and she pushed his back against the wall so she could press her body against his. He could taste the champagne on her breath—they had brought the bottle with them from the restaurant and very nearly finished it on the cab ride back.

Jenn ran her hands on the sides of Daniel’s body, pulling his shirt out of his trousers to reach his skin. Her tongue was deep in Daniel’s mouth, exploring, tasting, seeking his to fence with. He pulled her against him, and she responded by thrusting her pelvis at him. His hands ran down her back and pulled up her dress enough to be able to palm the top of one thigh and a cheek, amazed as usual by the softness of her skin. Jenn moaned in his mouth at the touch, then pulled out of the embrace just enough to unbutton his shirt.

Foreseeing that the entryway would not be the most comfortable place to continue this, he hedged towards the living room, Jenn following him with a slight whine as if to ask where he was going.

In the cab over, they had not talked, only drunk from the champagne bottle and made out. Daniel had seen the cab driver, an older taciturn man, look at them through his rearview mirror after surreptitiously adjusting it to get a better view. Daniel had tried to say something to Jenn while she had been lavishly kissing his neck, and all he had gotten out of her was a shrug, and she had moved to straddle his lap after pulling the skirt of her dress up, presumably giving the driver a perfect money shot of her behind. Daniel had thought “what the hell” and had surrendered himself to the heady feeling of his girlfriend— his beautiful, loving, sexy girlfriend, now fiancee—wiggling on top of his now raging erection. His hands had rested on her thighs, as her moans had suggested that was where his hands ought to be.

Daniel had almost put a stop to it when Jenn had playfully reached back and pulled down the zipper of her dress and bared her chest. No bra, he had noted—the bustier of the dress must have played double bill there—and her nipples had been bright red and hard, clamoring for attention, attention that he had been more than ready to provide. He had dived in, sucking on them with the intensity of a starving baby, in just the way he knew Jenn enjoyed, and he had been rewarded by her tossing her head back, her hair spilling out of her clips, and letting out a lust-filled groan that reverberated in the cab. The driver, who had been undoubtedly enraptured by watching the sexy brunette overcome by her emotions, had had to jerk hard on the steering wheel to avoid driving into a pole. Thankfully, they had been close to home by then, and Jenn had just had enough time to rearrange her top and pull down her skirt before the cab stopped by the curb in front of their place. Daniel had paid the cab driver, barely able to meet the man’s eyes, while the latter was telling him he was a lucky boy. Jenn had lingered by the side of the cab, talking to the driver through his door window, while Daniel had climbed the stairs to unlock the front door. He had heard her crystal laughter ringing in the quiet night air before she ran up the stairs to meet him and kiss him so hard their lips would be bruised the next day.

And now they were in the living room and Jenn had pushed Daniel down to the floor and had unzipped her dress again and had let it fall and pool at her feet, and she stood above him like every man’s wet dream, naked but for a pair of thigh-highs and red spike heels, long hair wild after having been trapped in her clips for the better part of the evening. She posed for a few seconds, smiling at Daniel adoring look, then she pounced, kneeling on his legs, pulling on his still unfastened trousers and boxer shorts, and exposing his hard shaft. She cooed at it while wrapping her hand around it, and slowly rubbed her hand up and down a few times, as if she was judging its heft. She seemed satisfied because very soon she scooted up and straddled his hips, the head of his cock lined up right against her pussy lips. She kissed him again, a slow burning kiss that seemed to suck his soul out of his lungs, and in that momentary distraction Jenn managed to reach down and push his cock inside her, and Daniel cried out when he felt an almost intolerable heat cradling his sensitive organ. Jenn merely grinned and kissed him harder, rocking her hips back and forth in a slow fucking motion that was more tease than anything else.

She straightened up, tossed her hair back, and in slow but forceful strokes fucked herself on his jutting cock. His hands moved up to cup her breasts, and her hands joined his and pressed hard, massaging her breasts roughly. She looked down at him, and smiled a naughty smile.

“You think that cab driver would have liked to see us like this? He did look like a bit of a perv, didn’t he? Staring at us like that?”

So she had known the driver had been looking at them, thought Daniel. “Love, any man that goes for girls would have been turned on by you and would have given a ball and a half to see you naked like this, and his remaining half-ball to fuck you like this.”

She laughed, and rocked harder on his cock. “It turned me on to feel his eyes on me, you know? I could just feel them on my back, when I unzipped my dress, and on my ass when I pulled my skirt up. I wanted to turn around and push my boobs up and go ‘tada!’ just to see him drool over them. Does that make me a bad girl?”

Daniel thrust his hips up to go against her own pushes, achieving a deep penetration that made Jenn moan. “You have a perfect body, love. Makes sense that you want to show it off...” He was happy to go along with her fantasy.

“Perhaps he would have stopped the cab,” she continued, her eyes into Daniel’s, “and turned around and touched them—my boobs. I would have let him, you know, would have liked to feel that stranger’s hands on them, squeezing them, twisting my nipples, with you next to me, watching, perhaps rubbing your hands on my thigh, up to my dripping wet pussy. With you next to me, my perfect lover, my knight.”

Daniel moved his hands down to her sides to pull her down on him forcefully, and she gasped, her hips jerking out of control for a second.

“Fuck, that felt so good! Fuck me hard! Fuck, I’d have given him a good show, too—I’d have leaned back in the seat, spread my legs wide and played with my pussy, rubbing and pinching before thrusting one then two then more fingers inside. With both of you watching, getting hard, both of you wanting to take me, to fuck me, you, the perfect lover and love of my life, and him, the stranger, the old pervert, who probably fantasizes every night about all the young sluts that take his cab and that never offer him anything in return.”

She leaned over Daniel and lowered her voice. “Perhaps I should have payed for all those girls that turn him on day in day out, and let him fuck me? Do you think he might have enjoyed that, to sink his cock into this tight pussy of mine? I mean, he certainly seemed interested earlier, when you were unlocking the door and I tipped him by giving him my thong.”

That stopped Daniel in his tracks. “You did what?”

“I slipped it out of your jacket in the cab, and gave it to him. You should have seen his face too—he got all red, I thought he’d pop a brain vessel. You know he’s probably jerking off into my panties right now, rubbing them over his cock, imagining it’s me all around it, squeezing it and milking it, his sexy passenger with the tight dress making out with her fiancee in the back of his cab.”

Somehow the image was too much for Daniel, who took hold of Jenn before flipping her onto her back and thrusting himself between her legs. She moaned and laughed at the same time, spreading her legs wide to offer him better access and pulling him to her, kissing him once he had sheathed himself fully once more.

“Fuck yes,” she groaned as he pulled out and thrust in again, the sound of their skin slapping together loud in the empty apartment. “Come on, fuck me—just like that cabbie wanted to— hard, so hard. Fuck me!”

She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he was driven wild by the feel of her nylons against his hips. He put his hands on the ground on either side of her head for leverage, and drove into her at a frenetic pace. He vaguely noticed when she clenched and went rigid as an orgasm ripped through her, and kept fucking her madly, thrusting into her so hard that he was pushing them both across the floor. He shouted when he came, thrusting deep into his girlfriend, while she gently ran her hands over his back, soothing him as he emptied himself inside her. He collapsed in a heap next to her, and they lay on the floor, spent.

Daniel eventually broke the silence. “And here we are,” he sighed, “on the floor again.”

“It is a particularly comfy carpet.”

“We’ll have to make sure we get one like this when we get our house.”

“Listen to you, Mister Domestic.”

“It’d be nice, no? Having our own place?”

She was silent after that. “You know how sometimes your life seems to change very fast in a short period of time. That last month was like that for me. Lots happened.”

He pushed up on one elbow to look at her. She was staring at the ceiling, hands behind her head. “Too much?”

She looked back at him. “No. Just enough.”

They kissed.

Doctor Cargyle was at the computer when Serena came out of her drug-induced unconsciousness. Her programming—her adjustment, as his old employers had called it—had gone without a hitch, like most of the girls he had supplied to the fraternity. The only question mark was the modifications he had made to support the memory alterations, a variation from what he had used on Marjorie Duquesne.

Serena’s stirring brought him out of his reverie. He went to her side, glancing at the monitor that summarized her vital signs. He looked at the silver charms bracelet on her wrist. He had disliked the bracelets at first—they were a constant reminder of how backwards was the technology he had to work with here—but they had grown on him. They were a testimony to the fact that no matter what happened, he had the wits to survive. Every bracelet he put on a girl was an assertion of his resourcefulness and wherewithal.

“What happened? Daniel?...” Serena was disoriented, a common side-effect of the drug cocktail necessary to facilitate the programming.

“Miss Banks? Serena?” Doctor Cargyle leaned down and gently turned her head towards him. Her eyes had some difficulty focussing. He said the code words that the frat—those stupid kids—had elected to use as their trigger: “I am your dick brother.” Her eyes immediately flashed to his left hand, where he sported the fraternity ring that the president had given him, and her body stiffened momentarily before relaxing once more.

He noted that reactions with clinical detachment. The core programming seemed to have taken. Of course, he had ways of accessing the programming of his subjects in different ways that did not necessitate the ring, but this ensured that she responded to the trigger that would be most commonly used. The doctor then ran Serena through his usual post-programming tests, to which Serena submitted without complaints, never losing her calm neutral expression.

So busy was he with his test suite that he almost missed the two fraternity brothers at the laboratory door. “Hey Doc. Sorry to disturb, but we’re here to take care of the retard. The truck’s arrived. She’s supposed to be on that freighter in a couple of hours. She ready?”

Without even looking, the doctor acquiesced, and pointed to Marjorie still lying in her gurney, now strapped in. “Yes, yes. There she is. Be careful with her, please.”

“Of course.” They were setting themselves up to grab the gurney when one of the brothers glanced at Serena. “Hey, is this a new girl? Man, she’s a real looker that one. Love the chocolate skin. And check out those lips!”

“Forget the lips—look at that rack on her! When’s she gonna be available, Doc?”

“The usual, give it a few days. I have more tests to run with this one. She’s special.”

“She’s special all right. Fuck, can’t wait to have her begging to suck my cock!” He laughed, and he and his friend lifted the gurney with Marjorie and made for the door.

“You may want to say goodbye to your friend Marjorie now, Serena. I doubt you will see her again, and if you do, well, I fear neither of you will have the mental presence to even realize it.”

Serena turned her head slowly towards her friend. “Goodbye, Marjorie.” Her voice was pleasant, relaxed. She then turned her attention back towards the doctor, who was continuing his monologue. “Okay then. The basic routines seem to have been implanted correctly. Step two, we test the basic programming to make sure you are in position to please your new frat brothers out there—you heard the kids, you’re going to be quite a hit—then we make sure your medium and short-term memory have been suitably adjusted—wouldn’t want you to remember all that you learned about us, or even that something funny has happened to Miss Duquesne, do we? No, as far as you’re concerned, Marjorie told you she had suffered a nervous breakdown and was going back to spend some time at a private institution to rest, and you will have no more compulsion to investigate. How does that sound to you, Serena?”

Serena blinked, and offered a small smile. “Whatever pleases you, Sir.”

The doctor nodded, then went to lock the laboratory door. He was unfastening his trousers when he came back. “Well, then, let’s start. First off, oral skills. Let’s see how much you know about giving head, Serena. As the kid said, you do have some particularly fetching lips.”

Serena’s smile became wolfish as she watched the doctor strip. “With pleasure, Sir.”