The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Title: Curing Mary

(md, in, bd, mc)

Synopsis: Mary has an addition, but Dr. Tyler thinks he can help get her problem under control.

The ambulance quietly pulled up to the gated hospital in up state New York. The driver’s arm produced paperwork for the attending guard, and the vehicle continued on its way up to the receiving area. A simple relief carving into the side of a smooth granite block amidst the tasteful landscaping announced the hospital as “Tranquil Hills Mental Heath Institute.” A muscular orderly approached the ambulance as it rolled to a stop, meeting the physician as he opened the door to the rear of the ambulance from the inside.

“I hope you can do something with her. We’ve had her under sedation while she recovered from the communicable diseases she contracted as a result of her illness. I must admit that we didn’t know how to handle a case like hers. She was six hours out of the operating room when she began begging the orderly. After we caught an intern taking advantage of her condition, we kept her under video observation and sedation. Here is all the paperwork, if you’ll just sign here for her?”

After the orderly rolled the gurney out of the ambulance and signed the appropriate paperwork, the doctor climbed back in, and the ambulance drove off as silently as it approached. The patient had awoken as a result of the jostling, and began sobbing quietly as she tried to rub up against herself. Loosely packed gauze prevented her from the stimulation she sought. The orderly professionally inserted a needle into the back of her hand, taped it in place, and administered the patient’s next dose of sedative.

* * *

When she awoke, she found herself on a regular hospital bed, as a nurse checked her pulse. She looked around, her panic subdued by the woozy after-effects of regular sedation. The nurse, a well-kept young woman, probably just out of medical school, stroked her forehead gently and softly hushed her until the sobbing subsided.

“Don’t worry Mary, you’re safe here. Your chart says you had gotten some nasty infections and they had to do exploratory surgery to make sure the infection didn’t spread, but you’ve made a good recovery. I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re still here. You’ve been removed from the custody of your father, and are now in the care of the state. You’re here for an observation period, that’s all.”

Mary, a curvy redhead with compelling deep blue eyes was an exemplary specimen of the female sex, despite her current pallor and disheveled hair from her long convalescence. Leaning against the velcro restraints, she tried to rub her cheek against the nurses arm as it was withdrawn from her forehead. “I... why did you take me away from my father? He’s all I have, my mum died in a car crash when I was six... I need him...”

The nurse shook her head, patiently responding in the kindest possible tones, while still remaining distant. “Mary, your father is facing charges for both allowing you to develop such severe infections, as well as for incestuous relations. I really should be letting the doctor talk to you about this.”

“He... I made him... I need...” As she continued to speak, the nurse finished recording her temperature on a clipboard and started to move off, out of the room. “Don’t go... please! I need sex, my father was just trying to protect me... when the social services man came around, he had to stop, so that’s why I got so sick, the men at the bus stop were dirty.” The nurse, clinically dispassionate to the woman’s cries, closed the door with a faint click.

Mary, alone in the hospital room and unable to leave the bed, tried rubbing up against the railing which surrounded the bed, in an effort to stimulate her aroused nipples. The velcro restraints, an attempt to keep the pathological woman from masturbating herself raw, was driving her crazy sexually. While the enforced bondage aroused her uncontrollably, she couldn’t manage to stimulate herself. She resorted to trying to breathe on herself, and she was able to bring a delightful tingling to her nipples, but she wasn’t able to stimulate herself beyond that. Her 18-year-old body arched as it had for weeks on end at the hospital where she had been treated, her insatiable crotch seeking salvation from its deep hunger. She wasn’t able to rub the cloth of the thin medical shift against her sex. After an hour of intense frustration, she broke down crying and fell back to sleep.

* * *

She awoke again to the same bland ceiling as before, as a soft knocking preceded the entrance of a doctor. He was a few years shy of 30, but his full beard, widow’s peak, and the touches of gray at the temples and to either side of the mouth made him look more distinguished. His lab coat covered a dark blue oxford shirt and hand-tailored slacks. “Mary, I’m Dr. Tyler, and I’ll be evaluating your condition. I believe in being honest with my patients. You’re here because we suspect you may be an acute nymphomaniac, that you’re addicted to sex in a very pathological way. I’m going to have to ask you to stop that behavior. Our relationship will remain professional.”

Mary continued the ‘behavior’ that Dr. Tyler had chastised her for. She had managed to snap the thin ties that bound her shift, and she had rolled so that her breast and crotch were exposed. Her deep eyes blinked slowly and seductively, and her lips were making a round sucking motion which could only have been more painful to watch had she been able to nibble on her fingertip.

Dr. Tyler shook his head. “I’m afraid that we won’t be able to help you if you don’t cooperate, Mary. Warnings are few and far between in this institution.”

“Mmm.... Yes Doctor, please help me. If you loosen my straps, I’ll be a good girl. I’m not sick. If you released me, I could come live with you... I don’t see a wedding ring, I could be such a good girl.” Mary continued to attempt to seduce the doctor, and she could tell from a slight bulge within his well-tailored and expensive slacks that he was indeed susceptible to her charms, despite his cool demeanor.

As he swiftly produced a small bottle and syringe, dispensing medicine to the IV bag, he shook his head. “Mary, you must learn to be more obedient.” As Mary’s eyes blinked shut, the doctor checked her pulse and breathing to make sure she was really out. After running his thumbnail experimentally up the bottom of each foot to confirm her incapacitated state, he toyed with her nipples idly while he thought of a suitable punishment, twiddling them stiff then allowing them to relax. Once he’d thought of something appropriate, he left, chuckling to himself.

* * *

As Mary awoke, she realized she had been vigorously scrubbed. Her skin stung all over from the washing. She didn’t mind a wash, but wished it hadn’t been so abrasive. As she opened her eyes, she realized something was wrong. For the first time in months, she was sitting up. In fact, as she looked around, she saw that she was sitting on a narrow stool. There were electrodes leading away from her head, and a mask attached to her face. The sedative and harsh scrubbing had left her sense of touch somewhat desensitized. The stool sat on a treadmill of some kind, and her hands were handcuffed to the bar at the far end, at opposite corners. Her open-backed medical shift had been replaced with soft cloth she could barely feel.

“Mary, here at the Institute we need to find other ways of satisfying your needs. Addicts often describe how empty they feel without their particular fix, but your behavior is unhealthy. We’re going to find a healthy way of working out your urges.”

“Why am I in this crazy getup?”

“Mary, you shall answer questions when asked, but otherwise you need to remain quiet so that we can make good use of our time. This setup is to help understand your problem. With this equipment, we can help determine what’s going on inside your brain and body. The treadmill is a safe form of punishment. If you misbehave, you’ll be forced to run. The more you misbehave, the longer you’ll be forced to run. Which brings us to your unacceptable behavior...”

While Mary couldn’t see Dr. Tyler, he must have pushed a switch. The stool slid out from underneath her, and the handcuffs started to pull at her wrists as she landed on her feet. She started to trot. As it was some of the first exercise she had had apart from having sex with orderlies and trying to masturbate under medical restraint, she was quickly gasping for breath and feeling a burning in her calves. It was even more uncomfortable -not- to run, so she kept it up until it blessedly stopped.

“There now... its time for my first question. Can you tell me about the first time you felt as if you needed sex?” Dr. Tyler looked down at his monitor, viewing readouts on metabolism and brain activity. He smiled, knowing this young subject would be a research treasure-trove if she could be taught.

“I... I just always have, ever since I really hit puberty. I can’t help myself... I forced myself on my father, with his wheelchair he couldn’t stop me.”

Dr. Tyler flipped a few switches. “That sounds like a chemical imbalance reinforced by feelings of neglect. I believe we can make progress. I’d like you to look ahead at the projection screen, and tell me what these shapes make you think of. Just say the first thing that comes into your head.”

Mary looked ahead as the lights in the room dimmed, and an unseen projector showed what might have been some kind of power-point presentation on the wall past the treadmill. “That looks like a black blob... oh you want to know what I think the shape looks like, I’ve seen this on TV. That one looks like a face turned to the left. A duck. A penis. Breasts. A whale. My bunny vibrator...”

As Mary relaxed, and gave predictable responses given her condition, Dr. Tyler manipulated some of the dials. While simple images were not sexually stimulating her, the repetitive nature of the images was lulling her into an alpha state. He was introducing a mild hypnotic into the air mask, and had increased the subsonic in the room so that, were Mary not distracted, she might hear the faintest of hissing noises.

“Wait, that one is a photo of a picnic.” Mary said, slightly muddled in her thoughts.

Dr. Tyler replied, “Mary, you’re looking at a series of ink blots. There are no photographs. If you persist in fooling around, you’ll have to jog.” Dr. Tyler advanced to the next photo with a smug grin.

“No really, it’s a picnic. That one is a kitten.” Mary was jerked forward by the rapid start of the treadmill. “It’s two women having sex... really, I’m not making this up.”

“There is no record of hallucinations in your file, Mary. Please reply honestly. I will not be fulfilling your need for conversation until you begin behaving.”

Mary’s panting was beginning to make it difficult for her to reply, but the longer she went between replies the more the pace increased. Her trot had fallen into a kind of a trot. “I hear drumming... maybe it’s just my feet. Now I see an ink blot again, it looks like butterflies,” she lied. As her trotting pace deepened, she started to see something behind the random photographs. Fearing she was actually hallucinating, she tried to focus on this hidden image, which she believed must be the real picture she was supposed to identify. It kind of looked like a spiral, behind the photographs of sexual acts and bucolic every-day life.

“It’s a spiral, I think... turning maybe? It’s so hard to see, I’m really not making this up...”

* * *

Mary had been through several sessions, but things got fuzzy after each one. She always woke up in her room. She eventually started ‘hallucinating,’ but with some practice she could see the shapes underneath the ‘fake’ pictures. Doctor Tyler had explained that the most likely reason for her hallucinations and spells was the stress of treatment. He felt that she didn’t want to get better on some subconscious level, and was resisting efforts aimed at finding the root of her disease. Dr. Tyler had promised a new treatment today, but had warned her that it would be very stressful. After some sessions, her mouth tasted like disinfectant and her jaw was sore. When she asked the doctor about it, he explained that she had started to gnaw on her tongue. When the doctor came in, she tried to sit up, but the straps kept her in place.

“Doctor, is it time for the new treatment? I keep telling you that I want to cooperate and be a good girl” she exclaimed, eagerly. When Dr. Tyler nodded and got that funny little smile of his, she grinned as well. An orderly unstrapped her and followed her down the hallway after Dr. Tyler. The guard was a formality at this point, as Mary had become very considerate after a few marathon-discipline sessions. She was led to a room whose key-card locked door was simply labeled “auxiliary treatment room.”

“Now Mary, this new treatment incorporates a system of electrodes similar to that in the jogging room, but it also employs aspects of sensory depravation. We’re hoping to learn more about your problem while dealing with your hallucination issues. If you’ll sit down on this stool here, I’ll just give you a mild sedative and we can get started. You may dose off for a few minutes, and that’s fine, but we’ll need to wake you before work can begin.” Dr. Tyler gave her an injection, and as he said, she nodded off. The orderly helped to undress her, and to bring her into the far room.

Mary awoke to a gentle shake. She was sitting in a comfortable padded chair similar to a dentist’s chair but was apparently naked. There were electrodes woven through her hair, more numerous than usual. “Why’m I naked?”

“Its part of the sensory depravation. Once the chair heats up a bit more, you won’t even be able to feel it.” Dr. Tyler said, adjusting a clamp on her left leg. “I need to put this mask on you. It will monitor your eye movements and respiration. I want you to try to relax, and focus on the blinking lights.”

Dr. Tyler affixed what looked like a modified military gas mask over her head. The lenses had been replaced by tiny cameras and blinking red lights. After the straps were adjusted, and the earplugs positioned properly, she felt as if she was alone in a perfectly black world with the occasional red light. As the blinking increased, she started to relax and breathe more deeply. She heard a faint static from the earplugs, as if they were actually more like headphones. With a jolt, she felt what seemed like the touch of a vibrator to her most secret places. She tried to move, but the restraint had a renewed kinkyness to it, as if she was tied to a chair and was being teased to full arousal with a vibrator. The whisper in her ear of static sounded almost like her own voice, speaking her darkest fantasies. She recalled discussing some of this with the doctor, and the thought of sharing her innermost fantasies sent a shiver up her spine. Some kind of apparatus was being attached to her breasts, and the flashing of the lights was intensifying. She was edging closer to orgasm, closer, closer, closer....

Suddenly, all sensation stopped. Then, just as the tears were starting to reach her lap, another furtive touch of the vibrator sent her into another escalating, panting, shaking buildup. The cycle repeated over and over. When she fell asleep, the torment continued. As much as she begged through the mask, or prayed, no release happened. The silent, apparently mechanical, administrators of her body were bringing her closer and closer to orgasm, but not actually releasing her. Then, in the midst of her world of torturous stimulation and an abyss of nothing, words started to fill the void... When she mumbled answers out of teary lips, pledging her obedience, the vibrator dipped inside of her for the first time. When she answered incorrectly, an electric shock arched through her body and the pleasure stopped. After a few cycles, she answered enough questions with the correct words, and thoughts, to earn her first orgasm in months. Her bucking nearly tore the machine apart, but it held.

* * *

“Doctor, I was enjoying her earlier sessions, why go on to this? Can’t you just make her forget what’s happening, slap the ring-gag on her, and let me have her for half an hour? Watching this is fun and all, but what’s the point?”

“Tyrone, my friend, you’re aware this hospital treats addictions. We’ve got senator’s wives, movie starlets, and the daughters of billionaires... In Mary I found what I’ve been looking for. Her acute nymphomania is due to certain chemical irregularities, but is reinforced by her brain waves. This chair is capable of more than just torturing her... its teaching her. Once -she- is done, she’ll be your willing slave. It’s the least I can do for all your help in setting this up... But this machine... it’ll cure the alcoholism of the North Carolinian senator’s wife all right... and have her eating out of his hand. He’ll pay well for service like that. We’ve discovered a method of creating, exacerbating, and directing sexual obsession in women. Programmed to order, and hooked on something you’re all to happy to give to them. Each dose binds them deeper, and if you’re too tired for sex on a given night... well, intermittent reinforcement is the best tool. As for myself, I’ve got a small harem already picked out...