The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Daniel was nervous as he climbed the front steps of the Delta Iota Kappa fraternity house right behind Jackson. He tugged at the black scarf with eye holes that he had wrapped over the upper half of his face in the manner of Zorro, and adjusted the heavy sash that crossed his chest. He was fidgeting, he knew, but could not really help it. His main focus was devoted to fighting the sense of dread that was suffusing him since he had donned this pirate’s costume and met up with Jackson—dressed as Thor from the current Marvel movies.

The mission for the evening was clear: get in, locate Jenn and Kyra, subdue them with the narcotic-laced needleless syringe he had stashed away in an inside pocket, then get them out of the house to bring them to Doctor Cargyle so that he can cure them. They could deal with Biff and the rest of the sorry bunch afterwards, possibly even saving the other girls. Like Serena. Daniel cringed at the thought that he would not be able to do anything for her tonight, but he swore that he would get her out from under the brothers’ thrall before the week was out.

When Jackson was stopped by the bouncer at the door of the house, Daniel stepped up next to him. The large man asked for tickets, which Jackson presented promptly. The bouncer took them, glancing at the fraternity ring on Jackson’s finger, and then examined the tickets, running them under a portable light that illuminated thin concentric purple circles hidden in the paper. He examined the tickets for a long time, once in a while glancing up at Jackson and Daniel, sizing them up. He finally handed them back, asked for the two young men to give him the back of their hands, and he stamped them with what had to be an invisible stamp.

Daniel had hoped that they would not be searched. While he might have been able to explain the syringe—he could claim it was an emergency insulin shot for an imagined diabetes—it would have been more difficult to justify the taser he had borrowed from Cindy, the same taser he had used to subdue the doctor, which was hidden in the folds of his sash.

They were not searched. Inside, the frat house was full—not overcrowded, but full—and Daniel could not help a shiver. The last big party he had been to was that infamous NADA party at the end of the previous semester, that party that saw Radhu grabbed and threatened with extreme bodily harm in front of an assembly of bloodthirsty drunken students. They had been lucky, Radhu’s subsequent post-traumatic agoraphobia notwithstanding. Daniel dearly hoped that tonight’s event would not degenerate quite so dreadfully.

He thought about the small hidden camera he had buttoned to his costume, the one that was feeding video back to Radhu. At least this time he had some potential backup in case things really went south. He thumbed his phone, called his friend for a final check that everything was working okay. Radhu did not answer.

“What’s up?” asked Jackson. The boy seemed anxious.

“It’s Rad. He’s not answering.”

“You sure he’s got our backs, right?”

“I trust him with my life.”

Jackson grunted.

“What?”

“I dunno. He’s weird, that’s all. I don’t get people without emotions.”

“He’s got emotions. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be cooped up in his apartment afraid of the world.”

“Yeah, maybe. Whatever. Well, we’re in. Where do we start?”

Daniel looked around, noting that there seemed to be two classes of people milling about. He already knew that tonight’s was an invitation-only event. Several revelers were fully costumed, some—like a remarkably full-featured Batman complete with rubber-cast muscles—clearly having gone to great lengths to secure top-of-the-line outfits. The rest, by far the majority, were older, the women wearing evening dresses, the men decked in suits and ties, both only sporting masquerade-style eye masks.

“What’s with the dressiness and the masks?”

Jackson looked around. “Alums. Tonight’s all about wooing rich alums, both in the fraternity, and without. Rumor has it that President Calhoun might even show up. Kevin’s been stressed out about this party for weeks now.”

“Does that help us, or not?”

“I don’t know. Many of them will be distracted, of course,” he said, nodding meaningfully towards a small group of alumni.

Daniel understood. Circulating amongst the guests were girls, beautiful girls, and to say they were dressed skimpily was to ridicule the concept. Every one of them wore a piece of lingerie, from translucent lacy nightgowns to sheer babydolls and tight corsets, as well as tall platform heels, large loop silver earrings, and lots of silver dangles that caught the light. A quick look confirmed that each girl had a silver bracelet on her wrist. DIK girls, all of them. And thus programmed to obey orders given by fraternity members.

“So I guess all of those girls are there to serve the guests...”

“Pretty much,” nodded Jackson, looking around to make sure that they were not drawing any unwanted attention. “All the brothers were told that alums have priority, and that they should be encouraged to use the girls as much as possible. The idea is to put those alums in a good mood, and get them to give. Kevin said something about allowing donating alums to spend a night with a girl when they come and visit. You know—as a nice thing to do to a generous donor...” His tone of voice indicated that Jackson thought the idea unpalatable.

Daniel looked at his companion, and wondered whether Jackson would have reacted that way four months earlier, before he had fallen in love with Kyra and before she was snatched away from him by Biff using the exact same tools the fraternity was using to control their girls.

Daniel watched a tall well-dressed man walk up to one of the girls, a curvy blonde wearing a light green chemise that exposed a generous expanse of breast flesh, and strike up a conversation. “Wait,” said Daniel, a thought striking him, “do the alums have a ring that lets them control the girls too?”

Jackson frowned, looked around, then shook his head. “Don’t think so. I remember Kevin nervous about letting the alums know too much about the girls. I doubt he’d have given them a way to control them.”

Jackson followed Daniel’s gaze and stared at the well-dressed man and the curvy blonde. “Ah, there. Look. There’s a brother behind her—Chris, I think. Anyways, I think he’s there to control the girl. I wouldn’t be surprised if—” he looked around, finding and examining a few more girls, “right, there’s a brother with every girl. I bet he’s there to tell her what to do, and to make sure she remains triggered.”

Daniel saw for himself that there was a costumed fellow keeping close to every single DIK girl, staying out of the way but remaining close at hand. The girls mingled pleasantly, and always made sure to present their body in the most flattering light. It was as if they were models on the catwalk, to be seen, admired, desired.

“Okay,” said Daniel, shaking his head and taking in the guests as a whole. “Let’s find Kyra and Jenn. I say we split—we’ll cover more ground that way. You got your phone? Good. Let’s meet back here—” he pointed to a statue in the corner of the hall, “in an hour.”

Jackson nodded.

“Be careful,” added Daniel.

For the next half hour, Daniel strolled about the large house, surreptitiously watching everyone, striving not to attract any attention to himself while at the same time trying to spot Biff’s bulk through the costumes, or Jenn or Kyra. He figured that Biff may well have brought the girls to the party in disguise, perhaps to prevent having to share them with alums.

He nodded back to the various people that nodded to him, giving silent thanks to the kind soul that had decreed that tonight’s party would be a costumed party.

His first trip around the house yielded nothing. No Biff, no Jenn, no Kyra. Serena also was nowhere to be found. He had spotted Kevin at some point, recognizable in his Roman centurion getup, and he had seemed deep in discussion with a group of older male alumni.

Daniel had grabbed a drink on his circuit and was nursing it, needing to keep his head as clear as possible. He mingled with a few groups when he could not avoid it, trying to stick close to alumni rather than fraternity brothers to avoid anyone recognizing him.

Much to his surprise, he found himself caught up in conversation with a high executive of an international corporate consulting firm specializing in developing economies, and even pocketed a business card. The executive was soon distracted, however, when a lithe and toned Asian with a minuscule blue bra and panty set caught his eye, and Daniel let him go, watching the large man practically swoon before the much smaller girl when she snuggled up close to him, and noting that her handler—for lack of a better term—who sported a surprisingly realistic shark head, was hovering close by.

When the large man’s hand slid down the girl’s back to cup one of her cheeks and pull her groin tight against his thigh, Daniel’s jaw clenched, and he watched the man address the young man with the shark’s head, who in turns said something to the girl before the mismatched couple walked away, the girl engulfed in the larger man’s right arm, towards what was to be undoubtedly a less frequented room. The young man with the shark head followed several steps behind.

Something must have shown in Daniel’s face through his mask because a young man wearing a Star Fleet uniform from The Next Generation era looked at him with concern. “You okay, man?”

Daniel nodded. “Yeah. Just great. Thanks.” He flashed a genial grin to the bewildered young man, rose his glass in a silent toast, and turned his heels to continue the search for his fiancée.

Jackson carved his own circuitous route through the frat house. He was less taken with the extraordinary sights of the DIK girls walking around in skimpy outfits and mingling amorously with random men because he had seen it all before at previous parties, although none quite at the scale of this one. The house had even been decorated, someone going to the length of hanging a few paintings that even to his own not overly cultured eye looked as though they would not be misplaced in a good museum.

He had been talking about his Thor costume for the past two months, and therefore his fellow brothers recognized him immediately and saluted or high-fived him when they saw him. He felt a tug of regret and shame at seeing them so happy and carefree. Spending time with Daniel and Cindy—more generally, with outsiders to the fraternity—had started to affect his perception of his fellow brothers and of the fraternity as a whole. And, of course, there had been Kyra. Why don’t you face it, Jackson? he admonished himself. The bunch of them fucked your girlfriend, over and over again, whether she wanted to or not. Biff snatching Kyra had been merely the last straw, the forceful reminder he had needed to finally grasp the whole sorry state of affairs.

Looking across the room, he spotted a friend, easily recognized in his fireman’s costume, acting as handler for a tall brunette with runner’s legs and a shy smile. She was busy sitting on the knees of a slim man in a dark grey suit that looked like he might break if she squeezed him too tightly. Her face was buried in his neck, and he was running the tip of his fingers across her back, pausing once in a while to play with the strings holding up sheer camisole top.

“Hey Sonny.”

Sonny jumped when Jackson spoke to him, and nearly slammed his head back against the wall. “What? Oh! Jackson, is that you?”

“Yup. Jackson of Asgard, at your service.”

Sonny smiled thinly, glancing at the brunette that had shifted on the thin man’s lap to look up at another man in a business suit that had approached the couple. “Nice costume, Jackson. As good as you said it’d be.”

“Thanks. Yours too. Listen, have you seen Kyra around?”

Sonny, his eyes never leaving the now threesome across from him, shook his head, never looking into Jackson’s eyes. “No. No, haven’t seen her.”

“You sure? I think I’ve seen every other girl around.”

Sonny smiled nervously, still avoiding Jackson’s eyes. “Well, she’s your girl and all, you know. I bet Kevin thought he’d keep her out of this one.”

Jackson nodded, knowing full well that Kevin would do no such thing, and Sonny had to know as well. “Yeah, maybe. What about Biff? Seen Biff around?”

Jackson thought that Sonny would scream and run at Biff’s name. The frightened young man looked left and right like a bird hearing a cat. “N... No. Haven’t seen Biff either. Not tonight. Not here. Can’t say he’s here. W... Why?”

Jackson gently chucked his friend on the shoulder. “Relax, Sonny. What’s with you? I just need to ask him a few things. Been a while I haven’t talked to him, that’s all.”

Sonny chuckled nervously. “Yeah, sure. Okay. No, I haven’t seen him.”

“Hey Sonny—” The voice startled both of them. Jackson turned around to see the new arrival, a young man dressed as a superhero—the Green Arrow, in all likelihood.

Sonny sounded relieved. “Brad!”

Brad looked at Jackson and seemed to recognize him, and then seemed to redden slightly—it was hard to tell underneath the mask. “Jackson. Good to see you. Nice costume.”

Jackson nodded. “Thanks! Yours too. We should team up.” He did not think his joke was that funny, and Brad seemed to share his opinion. Sonny laughed, a nervous high-pitched giggle that grated on Jackson.

“Jackson here was... was asking about Biff,” Sonny told Brad.

“Was he?” Brad looked at Jackson. “Haven’t seem Biff tonight, sorry.”

Jackson heard the unspoken “yet” trailing Brad’s sentence, but did not push. He did not want to seem too eager.

“How about Kyra?” Jackson asked. “Is she around?”

Brad made a face that Jackson could not decipher through the mask. “Haven’t seen her either. What’s the matter, lost your girlfriend?”

There was an odd sort of challenge in Brad’s voice, and Jackson almost asked him what he meant by that. Did he know something about Biff and Kyra? What if he did not know anything? Asking about it would then certainly arouse his suspicions. Which may lead Brad to go talk to Biff and maybe get access to Kyra. Because Jackson knew that Brad had a soft spot for Kyra—Brad had spent a lot of time with her before she became Jackson’s girlfriend. Jackson glanced at Sonny, who was shuffling in place, looking like he might wet his pants. Jackson was willing to bet Sonny could be made to talk, but not as long as Brad was around.

Putting the information aside and willing to wait until he could corner Sonny alone, he said goodbye to the young men and resumed his search, plastering a smile on his face, and mingling with his fellow brothers along the way.

Daniel was in one of the larger reception rooms in which the party had naturally congregated, listening to a three-way conversation between two banking executives and what sounded like a finance student from the fraternity, talking about the European bond markets—one of the executive was certain that he had found a way to benefit from the disconnect between the various European Union members’ fiscal policies and the unified Euro, while the other banker gave every sign of being unconvinced and the student tried to match the first banker’s ideas with various theories he had learned in the past year. A group of students had gathered around the three men, perhaps in an attempt to get an inside into the latest quick rich scheme.

Daniel used the assembly as an inconspicuous way to keep an eye on the rest of the crowd, still looking for either Jenn, Kyra, or Biff. Around him, the party had kicked into higher gear. The girls, still walking around like sultry lingerie models, were now freely groped by the suited men and not a few of the women, giggling and kissing in response to their touch. Breasts were grabbed and squeezed and once in a while would spill out in plain view, asses were caressed, crotches were cupped. The girls, far from discouraging such attentions, actively invited them by their actions and often their words. They were actively pressing their bodies into those of the men around them, rubbing themselves against them, in a wanton display of sexual availability.

Daniel adjusted his sash to make sure it did not block the miniature camera that Radhu had given him and that was sown up as a button on the puffy shirt of his pirate costume. He wondered what Radhu thought of the party.

Daniel had just seen Jackson winding his way through the hallway down towards one of the other reception rooms when he spotted a figure he thought he recognized from the corner of his eye. His senses immediately on alert, he stepped away from the group—apologizing to one of the fraternity brothers that was practically leaning into his shoulder to get a better view of the discoursing trio—and tried to get a clearer view. There—the girl in the black slip, perfect body, looking very much like...

He winced when he recognized the long blonde locks. It was not Jenn. But he knew her. When she turned around, he confirmed it—Jenn’s friend from her English classes, the cheerleader. Trish. The catholic girl who despaired of ever finding a nice boy to marry.

He approached the blonde, who seemed to be flirting with a rotund little man whose mask kept threatening to slide off his sweaty reddened face. Daniel pegged the man as a prime candidate for an early heart attack. Trish was standing close to him, fully half a head taller than the shorter man in her platform heels, and she was running her hand lightly over his jacket sleeve. Daniel noted the man’s wheezing breath, and was tempted to step up to him and gently guide him to the exit, advising him towards a proper diet and eventually some exercise. With a stab of guilt he wondered whether the man was sick—but whatever sense of empathy Daniel might have experienced quickly dissipated once he saw Trish grab the man’s hand and put it on her breast, whereupon the man’s eyes widened underneath his mask and his wheezing increased.

The man blurted something that Daniel could not hear, and he turned to someone dressed as a typical robot straight out of a fifties sci-fi flick—Trish’s handler, no doubt—and talked for a long time before pulling something out of his pocket and passing it on to Robot Boy. After a last longing look at Trish, he reached inside his jacket for an inhaler, and waddled away.

Daniel saw Trish follow the retreating man with her eyes, her expression neutral, and Robot Boy stepped up to her and said something. Trish nodded, leaning into him, holding on to his arm, snuggling close to him, before scanning the crowd with her eyes. She caught Daniel’s eye and held his gaze, smiling. If she recognized him, she gave no indication, and Daniel was bothered by this until he remembered that he was in fact meant to be unrecognizable in his disguise. On an impulse, he walked up to Robot Boy. Trish smiled at him.

“Time for your break, Robby.”

The handler turned to him. “What’s that you say?”

“Nils has me going ’round and relieving every guy for fifteen minutes, giving you all a chance to relax and mingle a bit, maybe catch a bathroom or something. I just relieved—What’s his name? Guy with the shark’s head? Anyway, you’re next.”

Robot Boy hesitated. “Didn’t know we got breaks... I thought we were supposed to go till eleven.”

Daniel shrugged, making a gesture to signify that the wishes of people in charge are always impenetrable. “Can’t tell you. All I know’s that Nils asked me to do this, and I know better than argue with the guy—you know what I mean.” Jackson had given Daniel the rundown on the people in the fraternity, and had pointed out how the vice-president was the hands-on officer, implementing Kevin Cusker’s edicts. And Nils, with his calm efficiency that was rumored to come from deadly training with some Northern European special forces, tended to frighten the fraternity in a deeper and subtler way than Biff with his brute strength.

Robot Boy nodded. “Yeah, I know. Still...”

Daniel gently bumped him on the shoulder, in a friendly gesture. “Come on—head out to the bar—they got out some of the good stuff. Some amazing imports. You like microbrews? There should be some left, if you hurry.”

Robot Boy’s eyes flashed at the thought, and he hesitated. “Oh—Right. Sure... Okay...” He took a step, hesitated again, and Daniel reassured him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on the cheerleader chick. I don’t wanna get in trouble either.”

Robot Boy nodded, reassured, looked around, then leaned in closer to Daniel. “Thanks. Listen: make sure no one else snags her before fatso—you know, the guy that was just here?—comes back. He’s really sweet on Trish here, and I sorta promised him that she’d spend a bit of time one-on-one with him.” He looked at Daniel meaningfully.

Daniel nodded noncommittally. “Sure...”

Robot Boy might have mistaken Daniel’s own hesitation for suspicion, because he looked around once more before whispering. “I know we’re not supposed to let the alums do that just yet... Not until later this evening. But fatso gave me—let’s just say he gave me a bit of an incentive. Keep her close by until he gets back, and half of it is yours. Okay?”

“Sure.”

Robot Boy grinned and skittered away, while Daniel shivered, his gaze going from the disappearing form of Robot Boy to Trish. A bit of time one-on-one, Robot Boy had said. Trish was looking at Daniel, a gentle smile on her face. Daniel knew exactly what he had meant. Jackson had given him an outline of how the evening activities would be going. For the next two hours, until ten, it was conversation and mingling and generally social time, and the guests were allowed to be familiar with the girls, get to know them, touch them, kiss them, but nothing more. At ten, things would get more serious, and the guests will then be allowed to spend time alone with the girls in rooms provided for that purpose. With those girls programmed to obey any sort of instruction, it did not take a genius to understand what would happen. The short man from earlier had evidently decided he could not wait a few hours to get Trish alone.

He looked at her, trying to mesh the vision before him with the girl he remembered from a few outings with Jenn, the girl that was too shy and self-conscious to show much skin, the girl that wore tights with her cheerleading costume, the girl that saved herself for marriage despite the pressure from her occasional boyfriends to put out. And here she was, dressed in a thin black slip that clung to her body like a second skin and showcased every curve of her body and exposed her long legs and an ass tightened by years of gymnastics, perched on heels so high that a single misstep would probably sideline her from cheerleading and ruin her scholarship. And Daniel was sure that she was a virgin no longer, her purity having been ripped away by the fraternity long ago.

Trish took a step towards him, a smile on her pink-painted lips. “Hi,” she said, her voice low, “you like?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re looking at me,” continued Trish, looking down, almost demure. “And it makes my nipples tingle and get hard when you look at me.” She looked up at him, innocent and eager. “Do you want to feel them?” She thrust her chest out, proving that she was correct in her assessment. Two very hard bumps topped the stretched black silk.

“Huh, maybe later, thanks.” Daniel thought fast. He felt horrible for the girl. He was here to save Jenn and Kyra, perhaps Serena—but every girl here was a victim, someone that had hopes and dreams and deserved to live their lives unimpeded. He had to try to save them too. But how? “Listen—Trish, right?”

“You can call me whatever you want... Trish... girl... cunt...”

Daniel shook his head. “Listen to me, Trish. I want you to get dressed and leave. Be quiet, try not to be seen, but grab your coat or whatever clothes you had coming here, and leave this house and don’t come back.” It was worth a shot.

Trish looked at him, blinking twice. “I’m sorry, I can’t do that. Scott told me to stay here and mingle with the guests. You are a guest. I am mingling. I should do what the guests ask me, but within the limits of my instructions. And leaving is outside of those. So I can’t leave. I’m sorry. Because I would really like to please you...” She emphasized please, putting her hand on Daniel’s chest and playing with a dangling thread on his sash.

Scott must be Robot Boy, Daniel thought, the brother that triggered her. According to Jackson and Cindy, a girl will only respond to whomever triggered her, or whomever that person instructs the girl to obey in turn—the way Jackson had told Serena to obey Cindy, back at Radhu’s place earlier that evening. Maybe if I trigger her?

“Trish, I am your DIK brother,” he said, looking her in the eyes.

The blonde looked down at his hands, and frowned before giggling softly. “You’re funny,” she said, “and I do find funny sexy.”

“Trish, I want you to get dressed and leave.”

She shook her head softly. “I can’t do that, I told you. And now I’m thinking you don’t like me because you want me to go away. Is there anything—anything—I can do to make you want me to stay? I can be very... accommodating...” She ran her fingers up to his neck, up the sides of his face, her fingertips dancing softly on his skin.

As expected, the trigger had not worked. Her glance down at his hands confirmed what he already knew, that he needed a fraternity ring. Maybe he could steal one from someone, or borrow Jackson’s? Maybe. Focus, Daniel, he admonished himself. You got a job to do. Don’t get distracted.

“Okay, I understand. Do you mind if we talk a bit then?”

Trish made a sad face, and snuggled up closer. Daniel could feel the heat of her body through his costume. “You just want to talk? I could think of so many better things to do with our mouths...”

Daniel swallowed. Between Serena earlier and Trish now, this was getting ridiculous. He felt like he was in a bad porn movie.

“Just talk for now, yes. Have you seen Jenn or Kyra around?”

“Who?” asked Trish, blowing gently into his neck. Her crotch was pressed into his thigh, and she was rubbing it up and down slowly.

“Jenn? My fiancée? Your friend from English? Remember?”

“Oh yeah, Jenn, of course. She’s a real dish. You must have a lot of fun fucking her. I always thought she must be a real wildcat in bed. I’d let her do me in a heartbeat—with a big strap-on, pumping in and out, pulling my hair, making me scream. Mmm!...” Her rubbing picked up, and her hands clenched on Daniel’s back.

He put his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her away. “Have you seen her tonight?”

“No, haven’t seen her in... in a long time, really. Why? Do you want to have a threesome? Is that what it’d take for you to run your hands over my body? For me to join you and your fiancée in a long fuck session? I’d do it—any time. We’d put on such a show for you you’d come in your pants just watching us making out...”

“What about Kyra? Redhead Kyra? Have you seen her tonight?”

“No, haven’t seen Kyra since last week. You hard for her too? She’s cute, and she’s a sub, did you know that? She loves being told what to do. Makes her juice up like crazy. Tastiest honeyed pussy juice you’ve ever had. And wanna know a secret?” She stepped into Daniel’s arms, pressing in close, her crotch against his hardening cock, and whispered in his ear. “I juice up easy too. Fact is, I’m getting so wet just speaking to you that I’m messing up my thong. Wanna feel? Just slide your hand down there. But watch out—my pussy’s gonna suck your fingers right up. Fact is, she’s liable to suck up anything that gets close. Do you have anything my pussy and I can suck on?”

“How about Biff, Trish? Have you seen him?”

Daniel thought he saw Trish flinch slightly. It was subtle, but it was there, in the back of her eyes. But she was pressing her breasts into him again, practically purring, before he could ponder what he saw.

“You wanna double-team me with Biff? You are a naughty boy, aren’t you? Are you going to do me in the butt while Biff plows my pussy? That’d be soooo hot!”

There was no discussing with her. Jackson had warned him. Cindy had warned him. He thought Serena earlier had been bad, but this was worse. Anything he said, anything he asked, was turned to innuendo and flirty material by the blonde cheerleader. He realized he was disappointed—he had wanted to probe her, ask her about her life as a programmed slave, investigate whether she was happy, all in the perhaps vain hope of learning more about what Jenn might be going through. But it was hopeless.

He was contemplating ways of dragging Trish away from the party without causing undue trouble when the decision was taken out of his hands by the return of the short rotund man.

“Hello?” the man asked, looking at Trish in Daniel’s arms, a slight frown on his face. He had a hint of a foreign accent, something vaguely British, and his voice was tinny, hitting notes on both high and low harmonics simultaneously, which lent an odd uncertain effect to his speech. He seemed to have rushed back from somewhere, as he was out of breath and sweating more severely than earlier.

Trish did not seem to mind. “Lawrence!” she laughed, and moving away from Daniel hugged the shorter man, who looked at Daniel curiously.

“Where is Scott?” asked the man.

Daniel shrugged. “He had to go somewhere. I’m his replacement. I think he went to get something for Trish here. She’s... huh... she’s not feeling very well.”

“I am?” wondered Trish, who was rubbing herself against the man she had called Lawrence. Daniel figured that she had been instructed to favor alumni over students for the evening, a move consistent with the intent of the party.

“Yeah, you were telling me you were feeling a bit feverish. Perhaps you should lie down for a bit...”

Trish turned to Lawrence, who looked at her askance. “I guess I am feeling a bit feverish. But that’s just because I’m so hot for you, Lawrence.” She rubbed her face against his, and he dropped one of his hands to her ass and squeezed it, making her squeal in delight.

“Perhaps this fellow is right,” Lawrence replied, almost giggling. “Perhaps you should lie down until you feel better. I shall come with you to make sure you are taken care of.”

Daniel shivered. The man was smarmy, and not in a good way.

“You gonna take my temperature, right? To make sure?” Trish asked, twirling Lawrence tie around her finger while she pushed her right knee between his legs. “You gonna put your thermometer in my mouth? Unless you prefer to put it up my butt?”

Lawrence giggled again, as Daniel struggled to find a way to get Trish away from the man. Unfortunately, Scott—Robot Boy—reappeared, looking satisfied and surprised and happy to see Lawrence again.

“Ha! You’re back,” he said. “Excellent! Thanks for keeping an eye, man, appreciate it”, he told Daniel. “As for you,” he turned to Lawrence, after looking around to make sure no one else was looking, “here’s the key to my room. Up the stairs, turn right, fifth door on the right. There’s a 2001 poster on the door.” He handed a key to Lawrence, who pocketed it and put an envelope back in Scott’s hand. “Thanks. And now,” he turned to the blonde girl that was still wiggling in Lawrence’s arms, landing kisses all over the man’s neck, “Trish, I want you to listen to me. You are going to follow Lawrence here and for the next half hour you are going to do everything he tells you to do—except you cannot leave the frat house. And once the half hour has elapsed, I want you to forget everything that has happened, and come back here. Do you understand?”

“I understand, Scott,” she replied, shivering slightly.

Cindy had told Daniel of the thrill of obeying the orders of a brother that had you under his thrall—she described it as a thirsty sensation down in her crotch, one that she knew full well could only be quenched by a hard dick, the hard dick of the boy that uttered the trigger sentence. For Cindy, who was in control of her actions even when she was in the thrall of a brother, the drive were resistible. But for the rest of the girls, it was a powerful overwhelming force, heightened by every act of obedience that increased the level of arousal and its attendant desire. Daniel read it all in Trish’s eyes as she internalized what Scott said.

Lawrence smiled widely, nodding to Scott. He offered his arm to Trish before heading out towards the stairs, the blonde girl hanging on to his arm with her hips swaying wildly as she tried to maintain as close a contact with the short round man as she could. His hand had gone back down to her ass, pawing her restlessly the whole way, pushing the hem of her slip upwards to access more flesh.

“Here,” said Scott, handing the envelope to Daniel after having carefully removed several bills. “That’s for you. Thanks for keeping an eye on her.”

Daniel hesitated, then grabbed the money. It would have looked suspicious to do otherwise. “No problem,” he said, trying to match Scott’s tone. “Easiest gig ever.”

He patted Scott on the back and left, claiming other brothers to relieve. He stared at the envelope again once he was out of sight. It seemed to stare back at him, full of reproach. He had not only stood there, powerless, watching Trish disappear with a man that he knew would take advantage of her—the look in his eyes had been unmistakable—but he had also been paid for it. Blood money. He did not know what to do with it.

He shook his head. This was not a good way to start the evening. He needed to focus. Jenn and Kyra. Everything else is secondary. He still did not know what he would do if he saw Serena.

That was when he realized that he had been stupid. Really, really stupid. Back at Radhu’s apartment, he could have simply had Jackson order Serena to stay at home for the evening, turn her phone off, and not answer the door. If the Delta Iota Kappa boys had not been able to get in touch with her, they would have been unable to trigger her and order her to come to the party. Daniel felt so dumb he wanted to slam his head against the wall. Why did he not think of that then? And now it was probably too late. Serena was probably right here, at the party, compelled to strut her body and flirt shamelessly with horny frat boys and lecherous alumni.

He took a second to compose himself, to clear his head, before going back to his search. He needed to find the girls and get out of there.