The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Border Crossing

Searchlights lanced the space between guard posts. On towers at the bridge’s ends, fixed lights blazed white light onto the narrow roadway casting electric blue color and harsh shadows onto the gray pavement. The night fog had arrived early, and the lights gathered bright haloes as the moisture thickened the air.

Velda stood on the northern side, just inside the border post. She wore a long grey overcoat, and her hands hid in the deep pockets. A matching grey hat hung lower over her eyes, and she peered into the lighted haze. Nothing moved, and she waited. At nine o’clock, a bell tower chimed nine times. On the seventh, Velda stepped into the customs station and held out her passport.

A guard with empty eyes and a rumpled green uniform snapped to attention behind the counter. He seized the passport with both hands. His eyes scanned the first page, focusing on the picture. Drawing the passport close, he flicked his gaze between the photograph and Velda.

“Remove your hat, please,” he said.

Velda tilted her head to one side and pulled the hat up and over her head, careful to not make a mess of her hair.

The guard’s eyes narrowed. Velda returned the gaze without expression.

The guard snapped the passport closed and ran his hands along the edges. He paid particular attention to the material of the red cover.

“We see many falsified documents here,” he said.

His examination shifted to Velda. Velda did not react.

“We see many who attempt to pass when using these documents,” he said.

He stood straight. He fanned the passport up and down, tapping his free hand on each stroke.

“Empty your pockets,” he said.

Velda’s gloved hands emerged from the pockets. She laid several items onto the counter: an identity card, a small stack of currency which was bound by a silver clip, and a ring which held two keys.

“Your handbag as well,” he said.

“I do not have one,” Velda replied.

“I see,” he said, picking each of the items up and turning them over, “Unusual for a woman to go without a handbag.”

“I do not have one,” she replied.

He flicked the keys onto the counter, “Remove your coat.”

Velda untied the knot and removed the belt from her slender waist. She undid the overcoat’s buttons, and slipped her shoulders out. She laid the overcoat on the counter.

The guard’s eyes lost intensity. Velda’s shirt was light blue and tailored to fit her body. The guard’s eyes lingered on the seams as they hugged her torso at the waist then rose up and over the swell of her breasts before falling back to the line of her shoulders. The simple grey skirt had no pockets. Velda held out her arms and turned, showing him that none of her garments had pockets, save the coat which lay on the counter.

The guard turned to the coat. He lifted it, and he again paused as the smell of her perfume was disturbed and wafted from it. His eyes closed, and his grip cinched into the fabric.

The wrinkled fabric relaxed a moment later when he opened his eyes. He looked to Velda whose expression showed the first hints of departing from implacability. She presented a narrow smile.

The guard dropped the coat onto the counter.

“You may go. Good night,” he said and disappeared into a small anteroom.

Velda put the coat on, tied the belt at her waist, and gathered her items. The armed guards at the guard post made a cursory examination of her passport, and then buzzed the gate open.

Velda stepped through. She listened to the sound of her heels. They clicked on the asphalt as the light towers on the far side rose and grew at her approach. A blue-uniformed guard opened the gate and nodded to her as she passed through the gates.

The man in customs asked Velda the purpose of her visit. Velda said she was visiting a friend. The man smiled and placed a visa stamp on a blank page of the passport. He handed it back to her and wished her a good night.

Velda walked two blocks, her heels clicking on the sidewalk and then turned west on the main thoroughfare. As her distance from the border increased, the traffic on the roads increased. She noted an intersection and crossed the street so that she was walking with traffic.

A dark sedan slid through the intersection when the driver saw Velda cross. The car’s wipers squeaked against the windshield as the haze coated the glass. The car eased to the curb and stopped so that Velda did not break stride but pulled the door handle open and stepped into the car. The car re-merged with traffic and accelerated.

Velda looked to the driver. She did not recognize the face illuminated by the dashboard lights and alternating swells of illumination from the streetlamps outside. He did not turn his head as the car engine’s pitch rose and fell with the shifting gears, but he nodded to her when he noticed she was looking.

Velda took a deep breath and sank into the seat, enjoying the warmth of the car’s interior.

The density of city buildings gave way to fewer and fewer lights until Velda noticed a hazy moon illuminating dark fields. Velda began to get sleepy as the adrenalin which had fueled her through the border crossing played itself out. She laid her head on the window and closed her eyes.

“Please wake up, miss.”

Velda’s eyes opened. The car’s motions had ceased. The headlights illuminated a simple house which displayed no lights. Velda straightened.

“You’re here,” the driver said.

Velda pushed the door lever down and stepped out. The ground was wet; her shoes squished the soft earth. The moon had risen a sharp distance since she had closed her eyes. As she closed the door, the car moved again, backing away from the house. Velda climbed the steps and pushed the doorbell three times. After the car’s headlights turned away, the moon and the faint glow of the doorbell were the only light. Velda heard a faint rustle from behind the door.

The door swung open. A dark silhouette stood above Velda on the landing. The room inside was illuminated with the flickering lights of a television. The silhouette moved to one side.

“Yes. We’ve been expecting you,” the voice from the silhouette said.

Velda stepped past the figure. The door was closed behind her.

“I’ll take your coat,” the voice said.

She slipped out of her coat and removed her gloves. She handed them to the man. He gestured deeper into the house.

She was led to the cellar door. The man opened it for her and stood to one side.

“She’s waiting for you.”

Velda started down the steps. The door closed behind her, and she heard the workings of a lock. Gliding down the remainder of the steps, she discovered a dimly lit room with a chair in the center.

A woman was working at a small desk in a far corner. She had large brown eyes, and a dusky complexion. Her features were round and soft in contrast with the sharp eyes and intense expression. Her black hair was pulled away from her face and was taut against her head. It hung in a long tail down her back. She glanced up from her work and rose.

Smaller than Velda, the woman moved across the small room with quick, sharp steps.

“We haven’t much time,” the woman said, “Sit here.”

The woman gestured to the chair. Velda went to it and sat.

The chair was soft, but the reclining back had been pressed up straight. Velda felt as though she was leaning forward and might fall out. She squirmed for a moment, trying to press herself into the sharp angle of the back.

The woman noticed Velda’s trouble and stepped on a foot pedal at the chair’s base. The chair reclined, and Velda settled back, her eyes searching the room as the woman gathered several items.

Outside the circle of light from overhead, the room was dark. In the gloom, the vague shimmer of various metallic objects could be seen, and indistinct outlines of other objects appeared to hover on unseen supports.

The woman returned to Velda’s side.

“My name is Roberta,” the woman said, “Do you need a moment before we begin?”

Velda shook her head.

“Excellent. If you would, try to imagine how it might be to relax, and we’ll begin,” Roberta said.

Roberta went to the items she had gathered and returned. Velda forced a smile as Roberta began to roll up Velda’s sleeve.

“We are most grateful for your help. You are doing a great service,” Roberta said, her eyes wide and unguarded, “This will only prick for a moment, and the difficult part will be over,” Roberta said.

Velda feared needles, and she closed her eyes when she felt the cool wetness and smelled the alcohol rubbed on her skin. Memories of vaccinations, tears, and giant metal barbs filled her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited. The piercing sensation, and the metallic pain would arrive, and she promised that she would handle it.

“All done,” Roberta said.

Velda opened her eyes. Roberta was smiling and holding a syringe with its plunger fully depressed.

“I have quite a bit of practice. There was no need to worry,” Roberta said.

Velda smiled, and the world grew dark. She tried to say something, but it merged with the darkness which closed down over her mind.

She’s beginning to wake up.

Keep the other quiet. We don’t have much time.

Velda’s thoughts materialized from a black mass into a grey haze. She noticed the spot at the crook of her elbow and how it stung. That wasn’t supposed to hurt, she thought, and her neck was sore from lying to one side too long.

She remembered where she was. It was a basement. She was in the country… Roberta with the enormous needle… Velda parted her eyelids, fearing the harsh glow she sensed.

Two hazy figures loomed above her, and she attempted to lift her arm to shield her eyes from the light, but her arm would not move. She retreated against the chair, closing her eyes until the mesh of her eyelashes fogged her vision.

It took several moments, but her eyes adjusted, and she trained her focus on the figures above her: a man and a woman. They wore green uniforms with intricate gold epaulets. The man had dark hair and bright blue eyes. The woman had blue eyes as well, though darker and softer. Her hair was blonde.

“Good morning, citizen,” the man said.

Velda’s eyes went to her unmoving arm. Hospital restraints were lashed over her wrist and bicep. The opposite arm was restrained as well. She tried to lift her legs, but her ankles would not move, and she saw the restraints binding her thighs to the chair.

She glanced up, and as her eyes moved, they found Roberta. She was bound with restraints similar to Velda’s and lay on the floor. She was blindfolded, and a gag was wrapped around her head. Roberta did not move, and was almost unnaturally still.

“Be quick,” the man said and moved to the stairs.

The woman watched as the man disappeared into the gloom. When the door opened and shut, she turned back to Velda.

“There are questions,” the woman said, “I am aware that you won’t be able to give answers to me as you are, but I will help you.”

The woman’s blue eyes sparkled, and despite the tight, grim expression of her mouth, Velda noticed the flush on the woman’s cheeks. She pretended that she did not notice.

“I don’t know anything,” Velda said.

“True enough, in a manner of speaking,” the woman said.

She went to the table Roberta had used to arrange things, and retrieved a wide leather strap. Returning, she placed it across Velda’s forehead and closed the belt around the back of the chair, cinching it taut. She took a second strap and placed it into Velda’s mouth, and then cinched that around the back of the chair as well. Velda tested, but she could not move her head.

Satisfied, the woman returned to the table. A faint whirring sound began, and the woman wheeled a stool next to the chair. Pressing the button at the chair’s base with her foot, the chair tilted backwards. Velda found the result of the whirring.

Covering the black ceiling was the image of a spiral. The spiral moved with a steady rotation, pulling the intertwined white and black swirls into the center.

Velda’s body relaxed, and she felt sleep at the edge of her consciousness. In a faint corner of her mind, a voice whispered ‘sleep’, and this arrived with a blush of pleasure in her nipples and sex. The pleasure returned her to the spiral, and she relaxed more. The whisper of ‘sleep’ grew louder, and the pleasure increased.

The beckon of sleep took her, and the spiral flickered. She felt her eyes close, but she remembered that the voice had told her to resist and watch the spiral forever. She raised her eyes open, even as the voice in her mind whispered ‘sleep’. She wanted to sleep; she wanted to watch the spiral. She wanted the voice to tell her what to do.

“That’s a good girl,” the woman said.

Velda squinted until it hurt. The cloak of heaviness and pleasure vanished, and she remembered. The voice in her head told her to wake up. It told her to wake up when any other voice tried to make her sleep.

She opened her eyes, casting her gaze away from the spiral. She saw the projector on the table. She remembered everything and focused on the pain at the crook of her elbow.

The woman moved the stool into Velda’s vision. Her expression was hard, and she placed a hand on Velda’s forehead and rose to loom over her. Velda’s eyes went up. The woman’s face hovered with the spiral in the background. The flush in her cheeks had deepened, and the soft blue eyes possessed a feral intensity.

Her voice was too quiet. Nothing soothing or inviting existed in the sound just above nothingness. It was the sound of a beast wanting to get out while its leash groaned under the strain.

“Who was it?” the woman asked, “Dannenburg?”

The woman’s eyes searched Velda’s. Velda tried to retreat into the chair.

“Boyer?”

Velda closed her eyes. She felt the breath of her captor against her ear.

“I can be any one of them,” she whispered, “Kruger?”

The woman kissed Velda’s ear, “Schiff?”

A tremor of pleasure rumbled from her sex. Velda tightened her face, and then tried to relax it. She forced silence into her mind. She would think nothing. The woman would speak another name, and she would be able to relax. She would only need to hide for a moment longer. Only a moment…

“Fatina Schiff?” the woman said.

Pleasure betrayed her again. The name was intertwined with sensation, and Velda could not ignore it. She was lost. The woman knew.

Velda threw herself against the restraints. They answered with a disinterested creak, and the woman leaned down and placed a warm, soft kiss on Velda’s gagged lips.

“A moment,” the woman said, “And we can begin for true.”

The woman’s movement had become languid, and Velda noticed the sway of the hips as the woman stepped to the table. She held a metallic device, a bit larger than a credit card. She eased down onto the stool and patted Velda’s arm as she uncoiled a long pair of wires. Velda stopped watching and felt ear buds being placed in her ears. The woman’s voice became muffled.

“They say Fatina handles the girls with the worst perversions. The ones who are the most shameless and wanton,” the woman said, “If we’d known, we would have used another form of restraint since I’m certain you enjoy these.”

The woman’s eyes were on the panel of the audio device where the ear buds had been plugged.

“There are so many ways to loosen a mind when they have such sharp desires, so many places I may position the bar when I mean to pry things loose,” the woman said.

The woman’s right hand slid over Velda’s stomach and up to her breasts. It paused and massaged as she opened the buttons. Her hand then slipped under the shirt and caressed the soft flesh underneath.

“So many reasons for treason and betrayal,” the woman said, “Idealism, misplaced though it may be. Money, as though it would salve the conscience.”

Velda’s nipples hardened. Guilt and arousal arrived in her mind. Both taking delight in the distress they caused.

“Then, there are those like you. You are the ones who submit their minds because they derive cheap pleasure from it,” the woman said.

Velda thought of other things. She avoided any thought of Fatina and the pleasure from her breasts. Her body betrayed her mind despite these efforts, and she heard herself moan.

“And let’s begin…” the woman said.

She heard Fatina’s voice, and Velda won the argument in her mind. The voice was a lie. It wasn’t Fatina, Fatina with silk for a voice, Fatina, the woman who could make Velda disappear with a single word and could make Velda lay still and beg with her eyes for that word. Velda resisted that false voice, the beautiful voice of the woman who opened the gate to empty bliss.

The spiral whirled, and she resisted. She heard words in Fatina’s voice that weren’t the woman, and she felt confident. Then, the false voice said it was time to sleep.

“No,” Velda whispered.

The woman lifted the player and pressed several buttons.

Fatina’s voice whispered ‘sleep’. Velda answered, but her voice was falling.

The spiral was so pretty. The black and white merged at the center. Velda remembered how she’d been taught to find that one fixed point in the deepest center. She tried now, but the warm sleep encircled her thoughts, and it closed on them.

“Sleep,” Fatina said.

The center was there. It was deep inside. She would find it, and her vision narrowed so that the spiral filled the space remaining in her thoughts. The rest was the dark, blissful sleep.

“Sleep,” Fatina said.

She did not find the still center. Sleep took her, and she was relieved. Her eyes burned, and letting them close relaxed her, and she could enjoy the pleasure that Fatina had given her.

Fatina told her other things, and they strengthened the emptiness until Velda made no separation between her thoughts and the voice. She listened to everything until even the sound disappeared, and her awareness dispersed into nothing. Velda did not hear her own sigh of pleasure as her mind dissolved.

Fatina told Velda to open her eyes. Fatina stood over her; the spiral whirled on the ceiling behind her. Velda almost searched it again, but Fatina told her that she should look at Fatina’s eyes.

Fatina was very pleased, and Velda’s body shuddered with pleasure. Fatina smiled, and her hand drifted and began to manipulate Velda’s left breast.

“You’ve been a good girl. You’ve not hidden anything from me. I’m very pleased,” Fatina said.

Fatina’s hand focused more on Velda’s nipples. Velda cooed and watched the dark blue eyes.

“I want to tell you a secret,” Fatina said, “But, when I finish telling you, you’ll forget it.”

The dark blue eyes were soft. Velda blushed with arousal. There was an invitation in those eyes which had become gentle and warm.

Fatina leaned close, “I envy you. I’ve seen the reports. I’ve de-programmed the traitors, and even afterwards, there’s a part we can never erase.”

Fatina glanced towards the stairs, and then back to Velda.

“I sneak into the archives and masturbate to the files sometimes,” Fatina said, “Girls like you are why I do these things.”

Fatina leaned down and kissed Velda hard, and Fatina’s massaging of Velda’s breasts descended down until it found its way under Velda’s skirt. Velda sighed, and tried to rise up to kiss her captor’s mouth.

The uniformed woman smiled and unbuckled the gag and strap over Velda’s forehead. Velda lifted her head and kissed. Fatina pressed back, and Velda’s head was pressed back into the chair.

The woman’s hand found Velda’s clitoris and made slow orbits. Velda relaxed into the pleasure, and she resisted rising to try and force more from the woman’s hand. The warm eyes widened, and the expression on the woman’s face turned to fascination and lust. Velda let the woman see everything. She wanted the woman see it.

As moments passed, Velda’s hips rose on their own, and the woman’s fingers found Velda’s slit and moved in and out in a steady rhythm while her thumb orbited and made occasional passes over the clitoris itself.

Velda was lost. Pleasure gripped her, and she had vague notions of its source, but she could only allow the stream of sensation flow into her. She began to spasm as the pleasure became insistent and heavy, and Velda had nothing except to close her eyes.

The stream of pleasure became a river then a flood which finally crested. Velda went silent, her body as taut as a bow within the restraints. Her mouth was opened with a scream which did not arrive, and she was frozen in a pose which appeared as distress and bliss.

The moment shattered, and she released a long groan which fell down and down until it departed with a gentle sigh.

Velda opened her eyes. Fatina had become the uniformed woman.

Guilt hit her, and battled with the aftershocks of pleasure. The woman smiled and gathered her items. Within moments, she had gone, and Velda was left to curse herself as pleasure glowed inside her.

The room was still. Exhausted with the night, the adrenalin, her betrayal, and the pleasure, Velda forced herself to remain awake. She succeeded and made no defense against the emotions filling her mind. The pace was rapid, and she could not focus on any one emotion for a long time. She replayed the evening and morning many times, re-experiencing it all.

Velda was surprised when her eyes opened, and she was still in the chair. Her restraints had been removed, and the man who had opened the door to the house was sitting on a stool next to her. Roberta was seated next to the table at the edge of the darkness. She held her head in both hands and was rubbing her temples.

“We need to act quickly,” the man said and glanced at his watch, “Four hours at most.”

“I don’t—“, Velda began.

“You’ll understand afterwards,” the man said.

He gestured to Roberta. Roberta manipulated something on the table, and the room darkened except for a spiral on the wall before Velda’s chair. Fatina’s disembodied voice came from the darkness.

“Sleep, Velda. You need to sleep...”

Rain had coated the roads with a grey shine, and the driver, not the driver from the night before Velda noticed, chatted about the weather and his hopes for a successful season from his football club. For her part, Velda listened as they rode together through the laden air and faint dawn. The hiss of tires on wet asphalt competed with the wind and engine as the concentration of buildings grew denser.

They reached the city center, and the car eased to a stop near a familiar intersection. The driver smiled and nodded as Velda stepped out and closed the door. The car moved away. Velda walked towards the river and the border.

A different blue-uniformed guard greeted Velda and passed her through. Velda’s heels clicked on the bridge’s asphalt. The spotlight towers were darkened, and their metal bells dripped rainwater as she passed by.

She handed her passport to the guard, and he buzzed the gate. Inside the customs shack, the same official rose from his seat and snapped to attention. His eyes narrowed.

“Passport,” he said.

He repeated the process from the night before, except Velda carried a letter. He turned the sealed envelope over in his fingers.

“A private correspondence?” he asked.

Velda noticed the name on the envelope: Fatina Schiff. She did not react.

“Yes, for a friend.”

“I see.”

He removed a letter opener from under the desk and slit the envelope open. Retrieving the letter, he began to read.

“Dear Fatina,

It was a pleasure to see Velda again. She is such a lovely girl, perfect in so many ways. In particular, she is handy with many tasks around the house, far more than might be expected from such an attractive woman.

I admit to be taken by her as well as underestimating what a woman with her unusual combination of traits might be capable of accomplishing.

She helped us discover the source of the plumbing difficulties. Rats had been at the insulation, and with her help, we were able to make repairs. I also believe the rats will look elsewhere to gnaw and chew after Velda’s efforts, and I expect our water bill to go down in direct measure in the coming months. Please tell her that we look forward to her next visit. She is a true delight.

Regards,
Otto”

“Banalities. My life is stuffed with them,” the customs official said.

He tossed the letter onto the counter without placing it back in the envelope. He disappeared into his anteroom.

Velda gathered her things. She stepped out onto the cobblestone streets and looked at the sky. She hoped the rain would hold off long enough for her to get home. She felt a sudden desire to be there more than anywhere else.