The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Back in Daniel’s apartment, Cindy was watching the computer spit out the result of its analysis. She was pleased with herself. Her idiosyncratic program seemed to work, the decryption seemed to be correct.

She twirled the small USB key between her fingers, the USB key that held the encrypted data from Delta Iota Kappa, the data that Radhu had uncovered when he hacked into the fraternity’s computers. The tall Indian had suspected that the encrypted files were email archives, and as far as she could ascertain from the folder structure exposed by the decryption, it looked as though he had been right.

She grinned, and wondered whether Radhu would be impressed. She did not know him well, but fully expected him to be—what would he say?—laudatory about it. He did not seem to have an ounce of malice or jealousy in him. A bit like Daniel, in fact, she thought. One of the many things she liked about the young man.

And if Radhu was laudatory enough, she might even reveal to him just how she managed to break the otherwise strong cryptography. She would tell him the truth—that she had in fact helped Bernard Tilling with these exact encryption routines six months earlier. She had not known that before this evening, of course, but a few tests on the data first aroused and then confirmed her suspicions. Six months ago, Bernie had realized she possessed some programming expertise during a post-coital conversation while she was under her trigger’s influence. And he had used her skills to perfect some of these routines She smiled at the memory. Bernie had liked her, a lot. He was sweet. A bit too sweet, in fact. She tended to like her sexual partners more... demanding. Daniel, so far, was the exception, but there was promise in him.

Her program beeped to indicate it had finished decrypting the files. She scanned the resulting folder structure, reassured by the fact that the result was indeed a valid filesystem construct.

She plugged the USB key back into the computer, and copied the decrypted folders onto it. Backup, backup, backup, she thought.

While the copy progressed, she explored. The files had the typical structure of an email archive, organized by email addresses within the Delta Iota Kappa network. She quickly seized upon a folder named MountDoom. Inside were several dozen emails of varying sizes, some with very large attachments. Videos, in all likelihood. A quick check revealed that they were all from Biff, and she recognized Daniel’s email address as the intended recipient. The headers indicated that none of the emails had been sent, although all had gone through the outgoing mailer. They had been intercepted, and held in transit. Odd, she thought.

And then the power went out, plunging her in darkness.

“Power and communications are out. Cell blanketing active. Unit Alpha is a go, boys. I repeat, Unit Alpha is a go.”

Eve Shawbank watched the sixteen black-clad figures make their way to the Delta Iota Kappa fraternity house after acknowledging her order. She double-checked that the snipers were in position to cover all exits. Reports from the units posted in a radius of half a mile from the house indicated no traffic in or out of the security perimeter. Up until now, everything was textbook.

She pulled down a black silk ski mask over her face, and slipped on the night-vision goggles from the passenger seat. She spoke through the small radio attached to her ear, her voice without emotion. “Unit Alpha, a reminder. No kills. Units Bravo and Charlie, stay at the ready.” She grabbed her tranquilizer gun. She felt her trusty friend Magenta in the sheath in the inner pocket of her leather coat.

The receiver in her ear came to life with Brisecoeur’s voice. “I’ve got you on the scope, Shawbank. You’re good to go. Break a leg.”

“Check,” she said in sole response. She headed towards the fraternity house, gun at the ready.

“What happened?” asked Biff, in the darkness.

“That fucker cut up Trish! Trish! Kevin’s favorite!” replied Scott, out of breath. “But I got him.”

“Not that, you idiot! The lights?”

“Dunno, man. But if Kevin gets wind of...”

‘Don’t worry about Kevin,” said Biff. “Now get the the fuck out of here.”

“But...”

“I said GET OUT!”

Daniel heard a scramble for the door, and presumed that Scott was doing just what Biff had ordered. There was no sound from the man called Lawrence, and Daniel presumed that Scott had knocked him cold. He remembered the look on the man’s face when he had seen the knife in Jenn’s hand. What did Scott say? That the pudgy man had cut up Trish? Daniel hoped that the blonde cheerleader—Jenn’s friend, and his by proxy—was okay. He could not worry about that just now. He had to take advantage of this opportunity. He felt the knife underneath his body.

To his right, he could hear Serena and Kyra still making out, despite the fighting, the commotion, the power failure—moans of pleasure coming from the redhead, soft cooing from Serena, and the intermittent slapping with the slapping of flesh.

Shouts and screams could be heard coming from elsewhere in the fraternity house.

“What the fuck’s happening,” Biff asked, to no one in particular.

As if on cue, the door slammed open. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” Brad’s voice, hysterical.

“Brad—what the hell’s happening out there?”

“Shit, man! It’s crazy! It’s nut! It’s—”

“Brad! Calm down!” Sound of a hard slap, followed by an exclamation of surprise and pain. “What’s happening?”

“People! Ninjas! Commandos! Whatever! Shit! They’re shooting people! Everyone! We gotta go! We gotta run!”

“Slow down. Who’s shooting who?”

“I don’t know! They’re dressed all in black, commando-style. Like in the movies! And they’re shooting everyone! Everyone! It’s a fuckin’ stampede out there, and they’re shooting everyone! And the doors are locked!”

“What? Are they cops?”

“I don’t know, man! I don’t know! All I know is that they’re fuckin’ shooting everyone, and we need to get out of here! Maybe jump a window?”

“We’re on the third floor, idiot. We’re not jumping that. No, hold on, let me think.”

“We don’t have time for—”

“Shut up! I said let me think! There’s the old bootlegging tunnel down in the basement. From back in the Prohibition Days.”

“Great! Let’s go. Quick!”

“Hold on one sec... Wait...”

Daniel almost jumped at the sound of the taser being discharged. Brad let out an inarticulate sound before his body collapsed on the ground.

“That’s for betraying me, you little fuck! Come on, doll, move your cute little ass—we gotta fly. We won’t get to say bye to your ex here, but it’s okay. We’ll send him souvenirs from wherever we hole ourselves down.”

“Whatever you say, big guy—I’ll follow you to the end of the world.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Daniel heard Biff and Jenn leaving the room, and all he was left with was the sound of Serena and Kyra. “Fuck yes,” moaned the redhead. “Fuck me deeper! Oh! Oh!”

Daniel hurriedly sneaked the knife out from under him, and with fits and starts managed to cut through the rope tying his wrists together. Once free, he spent a few seconds waiting for circulation to return to his hands. The darkness was deep.

He heard a moan coming from his right. By feel, he found the man that had been with Serena when everything went south. Nils, Biff had called him. His chair had been tipped off as well. Daniel pulled off the gag from the man’s face. “You all right?” He was whispering.

“Yes. Twisted shoulder, but I’ll be fine.” Nils replied in a whisper as well.

“Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

“None. But I’ve been listening, and whoever’s downstair is good. People are being picked off. The screaming is subsiding slowly, in waves. Can you get my rope?”

Daniel hesitated for a second. Then he cut the man’s bonds.

“Thanks. Daniel, right?” Nils rubbed his wrists.

“Yeah.”

“Listen, are you going to be okay here?”

“Why? Where are you going?”

“To do something I should have done a long time ago.”

Before Daniel could add anything, he heard Nils grab the baseball bat and run to the door.

Daniel wanted to follow, certain that Nils was off to find Biff himself, but he could not just leave without making sure everyone was okay.

Daniel checked on Jackson, and found the young man unresponsive. “Jackson?” Jackson did not seem to be breathing. Worried, Daniel felt for a pulse, found none. A quick run of his hand behind Jackson’s head revealed a nasty gash. Feeling around, he found a few stone steps leading to what might have been a fire place, behind where they had been bound. The young man must have bashed his head against the steps of the hearth when Scott and Lawrence had crashed into them.

In the hallway outside the door came the sounds of fighting. Daniel thought he heard the sound of a bat hitting the wall. Nils must have run into those black-clad men Brad had talked about. Or he had found Biff. Daniel hoped for the latter. All he cared about was getting Jenn back. Beating up Biff would be an added bonus, but he was fine with Nils taking care of that too.

Brad was knocked out, but alive. He was moaning softly. Daniel stepped over to where Serena and Kyra were still making out “Ser...”

“Do you want to help me fuck this little cunt?” asked the black girl, sounding tired.

“No... look, we gotta go.”

“No way. Biff said to fuck this little cunt’s ass, and that’s exactly what I intend to do. He didn’t say I couldn’t get fucked as well, though. Would you like to slide your cock up my cunt from behind while I plow this one? I’m so hot right now—I’d really love a stiff one up my box.” She paused. “Unless you want my ass, of course...”

“Ser...” he shook his head, even though she could not see him. “Fuck.” Daniel was torn about leaving the girls there, but they would not budge unless they were out, or unless a brother gave them further instructions. Except Biff had said that Kyra was not controlled...

“Kyra, listen to me, you have to get out of here.”

“I... I can’t. Master told me to get fucked. I have to stay here, or he’ll punish me.” She sounded desperate.

“Kyra, if you don’t go, you’re—”

“I have to stay here, or he’ll punish me. He’ll punish me. He’ll—”

“Daniel,” Serena said, sound reasonable if severe. “She can’t go. Biff told me to fuck her ass, and that’s what I’ll do. And then he’ll let me come—you heard him. So she can’t go.”

There was no reasoning with them. He could do nothing about them right now. What a mess. He needed to find Jenn.

Reluctantly, Daniel stood and carefully made his way to the door. The fighting seemed to have stopped.

Outside, there was a dark shape—a body—sprawled onto the ground, barely discernible in the pale moonlight shining in through a window, his dark clothing making him merge with the shadows. Next to the body, sitting propped against the wall, Daniel recognized Nils. His breathing was labored.

“You okay?” he asked the man, keeping his voice low. From elsewhere in the house, cries and thumping bodies could still be heard, but fewer and fewer of them with each passing minute.

“Knee busted...” groaned Nils. “Broken ribs... Bastard knew how to fight... Trained... Organized... Communication gear...” he indicated his ear, where Daniel could see a earpiece. “Listening in now... Whole place sealed up... Coming up now... Go!” Nils was having difficulty speaking, his breath coming out in short gasps.

“I can’t just leave you.”

“Go... Get Biff... Make fucker pay...” He pushed a heavy pair of goggles into Daniel’s hand. “Night vision... His...”

“But you...?”

“Got his gun...” He lifted the short rifle to show Daniel. “Not killing... Shooting tranqs, I think... Go, now...”

“You know where the tunnel is?”

“Down in basement... Ten meters in... Small recess... Gray door...”

“Thanks.”

“Take stairs... Down the hall... Servant stairs... Rarely used...”

After one last look, Daniel grabbed the baseball bat that Nils had dropped, and took off in the direction Nils had indicated. He would figure out the night-vision goggles on the way.

Eve Shawbank was satisfied with the operation, or at least would have said so had she spent even a moment thinking about it. But she did not. All around her, Unit Alpha was efficiently taking care of every body within the fraternity house perimeter. The city-wide power cut was timed to last forty minutes—Brisecoeur had evaluated it would take at least double the time for the power authorities to be able to isolate the fault and repair it, which gave them some margin for error. Between that and the phone and cell-towers disruptions and the gas lines sabotages that Unit Delta was performing all around the city to stage fires, the authorities would be busy.

She walked around the lobby of the fraternity house, just cleared out by her team. Bodies, unconscious, littered the room. She went from one to the next, quickly but systematically. She mostly ignored the men—although once in a while one would stir, not quite knocked out by the drugs they had been shot with, and she would quickly turn their head to the side and slit their throat with Magenta in a deep and controlled slash that nearly severed the spine.

When she found one of the girls that had been programmed by Doctor Cargyle—it had been a simple matter to get a list with photographs from the doctor’s files, which she had memorized, and besides, they were all dressed in a way that made identification nearly trivial—she tagged them with a small microchip for later retrieval by Unit Bravo. Had it been up to her, she would have left them to die like the others, but Control had been clear with his instructions.

“Ground floor and basement cleared,” came an unemotional voice through her earbud.

“Check,” she acknowledged.

“Second floor cleared,” came another unemotional voice through her earbud.

“Check.”

She moved on to the next room. She glanced at her watch. Ten minutes into the operation. Thirty minutes left. “Alpha-Red, report.” No response.

“Brisecoeur, do you have a location for the Alpha-Red team?”

“They’ve split. Alpha-Red-One is steady on the third floor, northern hallway. He hasn’t moved for... five minutes now. Alpha-Red-Two is...” he chuckled, “in the third floor restroom.”

“Kurva szar!” Shawbank muttered under her breath. She made a mental note that Alpha-Red-Two be terminated when the operation was over. “Alpha-Blue, check on Alpha-Red-One, third floor, northern hallway. Probably incapacitated. Assume hostiles.”

“Check. Moving to northern hallway now,” replied another unemotional voice.

Two minutes later, she had examined every body in the room, and moved to the hallway. “Alpha-Blue to Alpha-Gold. Third floor cleared. Confirming Alpha-Red-One down. Hostile eliminated.”

“Check.” She did not let herself be affected by the casualty her team had suffered. The boys knew what they had signed up for. “Unit Alpha, assume security positions. Unit Bravo, initiate retrieval of tagged bodies. Unit Charlie, prepare the fireworks. Brisecoeur, check on the secondary op for me.”

Cindy sat in the her chair, in the dark, unsure what to do. It was pitch dark in the small study. She stood up, felt her way to the living room, and confirmed by a quick look outside that the power outage was at least the whole area.

There had to be flashlights or candles around, although where exactly she had no idea. Daniel would know. She grabbed her cell phone, and frowned when she saw that there was no service. Stymied, she thought for a second and then fumbled her way back to the study, to pick up the phone connected to the land line, which was supposed to be independent of the electric grid. There was no tonality on the line.

She stopped, receiver on her ear. She had heard a noise—not from the phone, but from the other end of the apartment. In the complete and utter silence of the power outage, she discerned what could very well be footsteps on the carpet. Had she locked the door? She almost called out, in case it was Daniel, but thought better of it. Daniel knew she was here, and he would have announced his presence.

She cursed internally as she remembered she had given Daniel her taser. She would have to rely on the spattering of martial training she had learned before leaving for college. Which would not be sufficient unless she had the element of surprise.

She looked around. There was an old wardrobe in the corner of the room, an amusing incongruity in the room that could now help her. Quietly, she skipped to it, pulled the door open, and hid behind what looked like leftover clothing that had belonged to Jenn. She kept the doors ajar so that she could have a look at the entrance of the study.

She did not have to wait long. After a few minutes, her eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness enough to distinguish a dark silhouette enter the room slowly, carrying what looked like a short rifle. Cindy suppressed a gasp. A gun was more than she had expected.

The dark figure scanned the room slowly, and picked up the telephone receiver that Cindy had left dangling off the side of the desk. The figure immediately straightened and circled the room. He knew she was around, Cindy realized. And there was but a paucity of hiding places. He would soon figure out where she was.

She steeled herself. She would use the wardrobe door to knock the rifle away when the figure was close enough, and then drive a kick to his genitals. And then she would run for the door. She knew her chances were not good, but they were all she had.

The dark figure was slowly moving to the wardrobe. Only a few seconds now, and he would be in range. She placed her hands in position, made sure her feet lined up correctly for the move she had in mind. Her self-defense trainer had emphasized that the goal was always to finish the fight quickly, by whatever mean necessary. One did not get points for fair play.

The dark figure was upon her, leading the way with the muzzle of his rifle. She noted almost absent-mindedly that he had a bulky suppressor attached, which she figured was a sound suppressor.

Now.

Without thinking, the way she used to jump into that cold-water lake every spring back when her mother was alive and the whole family would go up and rent a cabin for the first few weeks leading into summer, she pushed on the door of the wardrobe, hard.

The door connected—the rifle was knocked off, and as the dark figure staggered in surprise, she kicked up between his legs, as hard as she could. Her foot encountered something solid, and pain shot out from her foot up to her knee, lancing pain. Broken bone, her mind registered automatically. She lost her balance, half-folding to the ground. Fuck!

The dark figure—which from up close she could see was a man dressed in a dark camouflage gear along with a ski mask and a pair of what might be night-vision goggles—turned the rifle back towards her, ready to fire.

And then, all of a sudden, he jerked once, and then stiffened as if in the throes of a seizure, a groan of surprise escaping him as he dropped on the ground at Cindy’s feet.

Cindy stared at him without understanding, remembering to breathe. In the doorway stood another dark figure, who holstered back a weapon. “Cindy Caprese, I presume?” asked the man, his voice calm.

“Y...Yes.”

“Glad I caught you in time. You are in danger, Miss Caprese. In case that was not totally obvious.”

She glanced at the man in dark camouflage gear at her feet. What was going on? “Who is this? Who are you?”

The man stepped up to her, and offered her his hand. He had on a trench coat with a hat, and Cindy fought back the impulse to giggle. She feared a giggle would soon lead to hysterical laughter—a not uncommon reaction to the stress she was under. She grabbed his hand and he lifted her up. Her injured foot protested with renewed pain.

“I’ll explain everything to you as we drive, Miss Caprese. I’m one of the good guys, I assure you. But we have to go. I have to get you somewhere safe. These two will be missed when they don’t report in.”

Two of them? What the fuck is going on? She hung on to the man in the trench coat for support as he led her out.

“Wait!” She said. She hobbled back to the computer, grabbed her bag, and pulled the USB key containing the decrypted data. “Can’t leave this.”

There was another camouflage-clad man sprawled in the hallway. The man in the trench coat helped Cindy out of the apartment and into a car stopped outside the door. He slipped behind the wheel, and the car sped out of the parking lot.

Behind them, there was an explosion, and Cindy turned in time to see the house engulfed in flames. In the distance, she could see other fires burning around town.

“My name is Sam O’Neill,” he said, as he picked up speed on the darkened North Alexandria streets, “and I’m sorry I’m so late...”

Daniel looked around a corner in the basement, gripping the baseball bat, ready to jump back in case he saw one of the dark-clad figures that were roaming the house in teams. He had managed to make it down the staircase that Nils had pointed out without encountering anyone, only once needing to duck and hide upon reaching the first floor and looking for the way down to the basement. The scene on the first floor had disturbed him—bodies heaped everywhere in whatever position they had fallen in. He had not stopped to look at any of them. He was on Biff’s track.

He found the section of the basement with the recess that Nils had described. There were two bodies sprawled before the recess, motionless. Daniel approached carefully. They were both wearing camouflage gear, meaning they were part of the group assaulting the house. One of the bodies still had the probes from Cindy’s taser attached to it, the taser itself—empty, Daniel guessed—resting on the ground near the bodies.

He pushed open the door nestled into the recess slowly, and it squeaked so loudly he winced. So much for stealth. He pushed it open and ducked his head in. There was a two-persons wide tunnel leading out, a rather old-fashioned tunnel, with wooden beams supporting large panels of wood on the ceiling. Random junk lined the walls, the tunnel clearly being used as a storage area by the fraternity.

He heard shuffling up ahead, the sounds of things knocked out of the way, muttered swear words. Gripping the baseball bat tighter, he walked ahead carefully, but quickly.

As he navigated a large pile of boxes that had collapsed and almost blocked the passage, a small thump over his head made him duck and hide behind those same boxes. Someone was shooting at him. He heard Biff’s voice down the tunnel, “Fuckin’ light!”

Daniel figured Biff did not have goggles like he did, and therefore he had an advantage. Biff clearly had picked up a gun from the black-clad men in the entrance. Daniel thought about backtracking and checking whether there was another gun there available, but he feared he would lose Biff and Jenn if he did so.

He grabbed what looked like accounting ledgers from one of the boxes, and tossed one in the distance. When it struck the ground, Biff shot in that general direction, and Daniel bolted, running alongside the wall away from the direction where he had thrown the first ledger, sending a few in that general direction as he ran, drawing Biff’s fire.

As he reached Biff’s hiding place, he could see the large man easily through the goggles, while Biff was trying to peer into what to him was the darkness, in the general direction where Daniel had tossed the books. Biff was crouching, and he seemed hurt. His right leg was bent at an unnatural angle. Daniel could not see Jenn anywhere.

He swung the bat high over his head to bring it down on Biff’s head, attacking from the side, but the fraternity brother must have sensed something, must have felt movement in the air because he jerked back at the last moment and the bat struck the gun and sent it flying.

“Fuck!” growled Biff, grabbing Daniel’s arm and bringing him down on top of him. “You fuckin’ fuck!” Daniel’s ability to see gave him a chance to land several punches in the young man’s face and stomach before one of Biff’s wild swings knock the goggles off Daniel’s face.

Biff’s superior physical strength soon made a difference, despite his broken leg. His punches packed more force, and he was able to toss Daniel about against the wall, knocking the wind out of him.

“You think you can take me?” he asked, and Daniel could hear if not see the sneer. “I’m glad I get to fuck you up myself.” Biff grabbed Daniel’s arm and twisted it, and Daniel heard something snap in his shoulder. He could not contain a scream of pain.

“That’s nothing,” spat Biff, throwing Daniel onto the ground and straddling him, growling with the pain the movement must have brought to his broken leg. “If you think that’s painful, wait till I’m done with you. I’ll fuck you up so good you’ll have to eat through a straw—gonna have to pee and shit into a bag.” He punched Daniel, hard, and Daniel’s vision exploded. “And then I’ll bring your stupid bitch over to your little hospice and fuck her right there in front of you!” He punched Daniel again, and the pain was almost unbearable, like a sharp spike driven through his brain.

Above them, and behind them, several blasts shook the ground accompanied by the sound of explosions. A wave of heat charged down the tunnel, singeing Daniel and flinging Biff to the ground next to him. More shocks rocked the tunnel. Smoke was everywhere.

“What the fuck?” grumbled Biff, clutching his leg in pain.

Fires had ignited the wood beams at the entrance of the tunnel, and flames were licking the wood planks making up the roof of the tunnel. In the produced light, Daniel could see through the open door that the basement of the house was ablaze. Serena, Kyra, he thought.

Biff was pushing himself up. Daniel, winded, was struggling to get up himself.

“W... where is... is she?” Daniel managed to ask, through the red haze that was distracting him from the surrounding darkness

“Your little bitch? I sent her off to get some help. Friends of mine. Those fucks out there broke my leg.” Biff, despite his pain, lunged onto Daniel once more and clutched his neck in a wrestling grip with one arm, and ran his free fist into Daniel’s stomach, driving the air out of his lungs and making it difficult for him to draw another breath. “Any last message to your bitch before I smash your jaw so you can’t talk no more?”

“I’ll... I’ll tell... tell her myself...” Daniel jammed the needleless syringe he had managed to pull out of his sash into the large man’s stomach.

Biff gasped and twisted Daniel’s arm away. “What the...?”

The content of syringe acted fast, and Daniel felt Biff’s grip on his neck slacken. The large man folded onto the ground. Daniel pushed himself up and swayed in place, his head spinning, the pain in his shoulder making him grimace.

Biff, on the ground, was moaning softly, and despite the narcotics, was still struggling to move. Daniel felt a surge of anger rise up in his breast, and this time he did not try to control it, and he lashed out with his foot, kicking the large man in the stomach once, twice, three times. Biff groaned and threw up, vomit spewing out onto the ground and down the side of his face. And then he laughed—a low guttural laugh that shook his whole body. Daniel lashed out with a kick in the face that knocked Biff out for good—the sound of the man’s nose crunching under the impact giving Daniel more satisfaction than he would care to admit later.

Daniel took several seconds to catch his breath, the buzz of adrenaline fading rapidly. He was having difficulty breathing—too much difficulty. Looking up, everything was shrouded in a thick cloud of smoke. He coughed, his eyes watering.

Daniel looked down at Biff’s prostrate body. The man was still alive, but he would die if left here. Biff was a bully and a rapist. But did he deserve to die? He also knew what had happened to Jenn. Daniel’s hesitation was momentary. Biff was a large man, and it would have been difficult to carry him under ideal conditions. With Daniel’s shoulder now useless—courtesy of Biff himself—they would both be caught by the flames and the smoke before they made it out. Daniel stumbled down the tunnel away from the fire.

Five minutes later, Daniel had reached the point where the tunnel swept upwards before reaching a trap in the ceiling. He twisted the lock and pushed the trap open. He had to push hard, but eventually the trap gave way and as soil and grass rained around him he pulled himself up from the ground in a bushy area in the back of the frat house.

As he stood, coughing the lingering smoke from his lungs, cradling his damaged shoulder, the frat house burned like a majestic torch in the dark night. He stared, silent, shocked. In the distance, too far to be of any help, fire engines could be heard blaring their way to the scene.

Jenn was nowhere to be found.