The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“This situation had gotten out of hand,” Police Chief Burrows growled, pacing before his assembled officers. “This mad doctor... he’s now apparently abducted two police officers as well as a young girl. That makes three hostages, people! And we still haven’t seen hide nor hair of him! We searched the abandoned building Detectives Wugner and Dawkins had went to investigate when they failed to report in. Nothing! Nada! We combed the entire area and came up with nothing. He is one man, gentlemen! An escaped lunatic! Why haven’t we found him yet?”

The officers remained silent. They were just as much at a loss as the Chief. Dr. Thorton seemed one step ahead of them all the time, striking at random, leading them on wild goose chases, but never giving them any solid clues. Three days ago, he’d even mailed a package to the detective in charge—a Sherlock Holmes kit, complete with magnifying glass, hat, and pipe, along with a note:

You can’t seem to get a clue the note had said, brazenly. Maybe this will help.

They’d stopped the mailman, questioned him about the package, but it had been merely dropped into the mail slot. They dusted the box and the note, and found a set of prints... only to discover they belonged to the two missing officers. They tried backtracking the kit, checking with all the stores that sold those specific novelty kits, of which there were only three, even checked the areas around those three shops. Nothing. Another dead end.

“Excuse me sir, if I may?”

All heads turned to face the young woman standing by the doorway. Dr. Ivey Parkinson stepped forward, pushing her thick glasses back onto her nose, brushing aside a lock of mousy brown hair. She gulped, feeling very uncomfortable facing the group of stern looking policemen, but she plunged ahead, nonetheless.

“I’m Dr. Parkinson. I, and several other doctors, were treating Dr. Thorton at the asylum before his escape. I’m here to render any aid I can in helping you figure out his tactics, to help you outguess his motives, and hopefully, aid in his capture. I’ve brought several of my files...” she said, nearly dropping the mass of notebooks and folders into the floor, catching them at the last second. “Uhm. Sorry. I, uhm, I think... that is... I can help you catch him. If you, uh, have any questions about him... just ask,” she finished quietly, sliding back to her perch against the door.

Chief Burrows groaned inwardly. “Okay, thank you doctor.” He turned back to his men. “O’Malley have you turned up anything from your street connections? Any of the local riff-raff seen our doctor around anywhere?”

The detective shook his head. “Sorry Chief. Its the strangest thing, too. Usually these guys are hungry to talk, to try and ferret out some detail, some rumor, no matter how farfetched to get a few bucks as an informant. But this thing? Nobody’s seen nothing, and ain’t asking no questions. They’re all scared shitless of this guy!” He shook his head. “I don’t get it. I mean, he’s just a wacko doctor, for crying out loud. He’s not Jack the Ripper.”

“Excuse me, again, uhm, if I may?” Dr. Parkinson waved a hand. “I think that is perhaps part of your problem. Ahem. You’re thinking of him as a regular person, an escaped mental patient, acting insanely, without rhyme of reason to his actions. But that’s not the case at all. Dr. Jacob Thorton was one of the most intelligent, highly skilled psychologists in the his field... before his breakdown. He was a Rhodes Scholar in college, kept a solid 4.0 GPA each year of his studies, graduated magna cum laude. His profession was psychology, but he a double major in psychology and chemistry, with a minor in computers. No, gentlemen, Dr. Thorton is not your common everyday ‘loony’, as you put it. He’s a seriously disturbed man, a genius in many ways. He won’t be very easy to catch.”

The crowd of policemen began mumbling amongst themselves now. “Okay, okay, settle down!” Chief Burrows snarled. “Dr. Parkinson, based on what we’ve shared with you so far, based on his actions, the people he’s abducted, what would you speculate is his purpose? Why is he kidnapping these people? What does he want?”

Ivey sighed deeply, rubbing her spectacles. “Well, at this point, its only speculation, of course. I mean, I can’t give a more accurate hypothesis without further study, or more information—”

“Doctor?” Chief Burrows prompted, frustration dripping from every syllable.

Ivey blinked. “Ah, yes, well, if I had to guess... I’d say that he’s basically... uhm... trying to drive everyone mad.”

Silence. No one spoke. Ivey cleared her throat and continued. “I mean, mad as in ‘insane’. You see, he was kidnapped, tortured by one of his own patients, and his mind snapped under the strain. In therapy, he used to ask me why I was bothering to treat him. He used to say, ‘I was like you, once, trying to make people whole, trying to bring order to the chaotic minds of my patients. But I discovered that the universe prefers chaos to order. Chaos is the natural order of things. Instead of trying to make me sane, I should be trying to drive you crazy.’ Then he’d laugh, and the subject would change to something else. But I think that is his plan, his overall scheme. He’s planning to drive everyone insane like himself.”

Dr. Jacob Thorton frowned deeply, staring intently at the mixture before him. He checked his calculations one final time, then picked up the eye dropper full of white liquid. Sweating, holding his breath, he squeezed exactly three drops of liquid into his mixture, then discarded the dropped. Sighing softly, he checked his notes, and smiled, satisfied.

“There. That should do it. It’s done.” He dipped a small spoon into the concoction and approached the naked young woman tightly bound and gagged to the bed in the adjoining room. He gave her a warm smile as he gently removed the gag. “I’ve got something for you,” he sang, slipping the headphones off her ears. “If you’re a good girl, and behave yourself, I’ll let you have a taste. Whatduya say, hmm? Can you be a good girl for ol’ Doc Thorton today?”

The woman, Alice Jensen, shuddered, her eyes not completely in focus. She looked up at the smiling psychotic, then at the silver bowl he was carrying. “Wh... what.. is it?” she asked, her thoughts disjointed and scattered from her last session. A small part of her was aware of her situation, that she had been kidnapped, drugged, stripped naked, and brainwashed, but she was unable to focus on any of that when faced with the mystery of what was in the amazing silver bowl.

He said... he said if I was good... if I was a good girl... he would let me taste it. A soft smile worked itself over her blank face, and her tongue slid out, licking warm, slack lips. He had brought her a treat. Suddenly, she felt very compelled to be a good girl, to behave and receive her treat. Good girls always got treats!

“This is something special I whipped up, just for you,” he chuckled, dipping some of the concoction into the heavy metal spoon. He dribbled a few drops onto the girl’s lips, letting her lick it off with her tongue. The girl sighed softly, closing her eyes, her mind and body surrendering to the pleasant taste of the fluid. She opened her mouth, wanting more, but Dr. Thorton merely shook his head. “Oh, no, my dear,” he said disapproving. “Just a taste for now. We don’t want you getting spoiled now, do we? If you’re a good girl, you can have some more.” He leaned forward and kissed her slightly pouting lips, and slid her headphones back on. “Alright then. Let’s get started, shall we?”

The mad doctor flipped a switch, and the series of monitors around the girl’s bed sprang to life. Jumbled sounds, voices, and wave patterns pumped into her stereo headphones, pumping her pliant young mind full of his special subliminal messages. Her eyes glazed over, receiving the high speed images flashed repeatedly on the screens before her. Dr. Thorton glanced at the EKG readings on the console next to him, shrugged, then switched the monitor off, changing the channel to the local news.

“We’re back, Doctor,” Barbara Gordon sang sweetly, as she entered the room. Her present attire resembled that of a practical RN at first glance; her soft, peach complexion flesh was clad in a pristine white nurse’s uniform, complete with white shoes and a small nurse’s cap, pinning back her long vibrant blonde hair. A closer look, however, showed her to be anything BUT a typical nurse. Her white shoes were white stiletto pumps, with five inch heels, showing off her scarlet painted toes. Her legs were clad not in pantyhose, but in white thigh high stockings, the tops of which were clearly visible under the hem of her obscenely short skirt. She wore no underwear, and the cleft between her legs was visible for a split second as her dress rose and fell with each step. Her large sweet breasts seemed barely contained in her dress, leaving the impression that one deep breath would be enough to pop the buttons and release them from their captivity. She sauntered sexily over to the doctor, licking her blood red lips, winking her deeply mascaraed lashes at him.

“Have a seat,” he responded idly, paying her less attention than the ‘patient’ he was currently treating. He stared instead at the news report, chronicling the latest development in the ongoing investigation. “Chief Burrows is in a real snit this time,” he chuckled, pointing out the grim faced man, delivering his statement to the press. “Look at his head! If those veins in his forehead bulged out anymore, his entire skull would pop off.” He laughed gleefully, spinning around in his chair. “Now THAT would be a sight to see, wouldn’t it? One minute, red-faced, angry, shouting at the top of his lungs, the next POP! Nothing left but a bloody stump!”

Barbara chuckled, echoing her Master’s sentiment. “Sounds like fun, love. Anyway, the kids and I are back from our latest hunt. Wanna see what we brought back with us this time?”

Jacob waved a hand dismissively. “Later. I want to hear this.” He turned up the volume.

“...introduce Dr. Ivey Parkinson, of the Jacksonville Psychiatric Center, on loan from the Bellevue Mental Facility. Dr. Parkinson had been treated the escapee for several months, and believes that she will be of immense aid in helping us track down Dr. Thorton. With her expertise, I am confident that we shall indeed apprehend Dr. Thorton very soon—”

“Well, well, well. Just when I was beginning to get bored with all the fun and games, they introduce a new player.” Dr. Thorton rubbed his chin, thinking. “You know, Barb, I always thought Dr. Ivey was kinda hot. I mean, you can’t tell it to look it, the way she hides it under that sterile white lab coat, thick glasses, and tight bun. But trust me; from some of our conversations, I could see the softer, erotic, sensual side of her, peeking out.”

Barbara eyed the woman on the screen dubiously. “If you say so, Doctor. Personally, she don’t look like much. But, I guess you are the expert here.”

“Righty-O, Barb. And now it seems she’s working with the police, trying to help them nab little old me!” He chuckled ruefully. “I’ll have to plan something particularly brilliant to lure her onto the playing field.” He turned back to the computer monitors as a small egg timer chimed. “Ah, well, that can wait. Looks like my current patient is done. Hope she’s well done this time. The last one came out a bit medium rare.”

Alice Jensen did seem a bit frazzled when she was finally released from her restraints. Her eyes held a wild, glazed, not-quite-there look, as did the rest of Dr. Thorton’s ‘patients’. Dr. Thorton frowned as he walked slowly around her, watching her critically, humming softly to himself. Suddenly, without prompting, he slapped her, hard, across her ass, leaving a deep red handprint. The girl gasped, groaning deeply, cumming spontaneously from the pain, grunting and moaning her pleasure as her thrashing hips telegraphed her ecstasy. Dr. Thorton walked around to her front and slapped her again, across the face, bloodying her lip with the force of his blow. Again, she grunted, howling in sheer pleasure from the slap, orgasming again.

“Ah, great. Perfect! Total sexual dysfunction,” he noted, scribbling a few notes into his notepad. “Gets off on being spanked, slapped, hit, or any kind of physical abuse. Very nice. I call this one a success, wouldn’t you agree, nurse?”

“Mmmm, mmm-hmmm,” Barbara nodded, licking her white sticky fingers. Dr. Thorton frowned, finding Barbara eating the special ‘treat’ he’d prepared for Alice. “Wow, Doctor, this is really good! What is it?”

“Well, it WAS a special treat for Alice,” he murmured. “It’s a little drug, designed to act stimulate certain areas of the brain, to render her very susceptible to suggestion. And, of course, I mixed in some melted white chocolate... for flavor.”

Barbara paused, one finger in her mouth. “Dwugs?” she asked, worriedly. “Wis it gwanna dwo sometwing two mwe?” she asked, not bothering to remove her finger.

“No, not really,” he said, taking the bowl out of her reach. “You’ve already been through the treatment. Nothing in this mixture will screw you up more than I already have.”

Barbara smiled. “Oh, okay. Good.” She resumed licking the sticky liquid from her fingers.

Ivey stared out the window of the patrol car, trying to organize her thoughts as Detective Andrew Davidson parked the car in front of the old abandoned warehouse. She’d accompanied Davidson and his partner on various other outings on the past week, as they followed different leads, responding to rumors and anonymous tips they’d received. Each one had turned out up nothing, resulting in nothing more than a waste of time. She’d gone with them as well to the other crime scenes, examining the abandoned building in which Officers Frank Dawkins and Robin Wugner had last reported from.

Stepping out of the car, she filed in behind the two investigators, starting at every sound. The warehouse was in the very worst part of town, in an area well known for its drug problems. “Your doctor certainly knows how to pick ‘em, eh Doc?” Lieutenant Marc Stevens said dryly. “What a shithole! I can see why he abandoned this place. Given the choice between hiding out here and getting caught, personally, I’d rather take my chances with the cops.”

“Well, I don’t think he used this place as a hideout,” Ivey said, glancing down at the ground carefully before each step, making her way through the cordoned-off building. “A meeting site, maybe. A temporarily storage room, perhaps. But a hideout? I rather doubt that. Dr. Thorton always struck me as a fastidious person, hardly the type to settle for squalor of any kind, temporarily or not.”

Marc frowned, glancing up at his partner. “Huh? Fast-tiddy-what? Hey Andy, you understand what the fuck Little Miss MIT here is talking about?”

Andrew sighed, shaking his head. “She’s basically saying the guy’s a bit of a neat-freak. Geez, Marc, can you watch your mouth here? There’s a lady present for goodness sakes!”

“Yeah, yeah, big fucking deal,” Marc mumbled, walking over to the left. “Looks like this place hasn’t been used in years. Rusted metal, dirt and shit all over the place, bits of worm-eaten wood... this place shooda been condemned or somethin’. I think this is just another wild goose chase... that our so-called informant was just jerking our chain. Again. Goddammit! I’m getting sick of running all over fucking town, chasing fucking ghosts!”

“Hey!” Andrew snapped, stomping over next to his partner. “I’m just as sick of this as you are, alright? The whole department’s sick of this shit! We all want to catch this guy, but he’s not giving us anything to go on. We have to check out every lead, no matter how remote. It’s the only thing we can do. Right, Dr. Parkinson?”

Ivey, however, wasn’t paying attention. She was staring at a small patch of color among the brown and black of the cluttered building floor. With her foot she brushed aside some of the dirt, revealing a McDonald’s Happy Meal box, stomped flat, encrusted with dirt. She frowned, biting her lip in concentration, as the bright red box tickled something in the back of her mind.

“Hey Doc, we’re talking to ya,” Marc said, coming up behind her. “Whacha staring at? Did ya find something?” He peered down intently, then laughed. “Oh, great. You’ve found an old McDonald’s Happy Meal box. Big flipping deal. This place is littered with trash!”

“I think,” she said slowly, the gears turning in her head, “that this was left behind by Dr. Thorton. Yes. Yes! I’m sure of it now. He was here after all! I’m almost positive.”

Marc gave her a dubious look. “You can tell all that from an old Happy Meal box? Huh. I guess you really ARE a genius then. How’s about you explain it to us then? What makes you think this came from our missing Doctor?”

Ivey reached down, picking up the flattened cardboard container. “Look at it! It’s so obvious now that I think about it. Tell me, Lieutenant, do you ever eat at McDonald’s?”

“Well, no, not really,” Marc admitted. “I’m married. My wife usually cooks, or we go out someplace a bit fancier than Mickey-D’s. Why? What’s your point?”

Ivey pushed her glasses back up onto her nose. “Well, Detective, I live alone. I eat out a lot, and McDonald’s is walking distance from my apartment. I eat there a lot. Just recently McDonald’s ran this whole campaign, trying to sell more burgers to kids, so they advertised these toys, these wind up... things... whatever you call them, based on an upcoming Disney movie release. They show the commercials all the time.” She flipped the box over. “See? It’s advertising for Lilo and Stitch, which just opened last week. Yet, as you said, the box is smashed flat, and dirty, almost as if someone wanted it to look older than it really was.”

Andrew frowned. “I see what you’re saying. Now that I think about it, there was McDonald’s trash at the other supposed sites as well. I never really noticed it before, just wrote it off as pieces of miscellaneous garbage at the sites. So, our Doctor likes fast food. One thing doesn’t wash, though. Why go through all the trouble to disguise the Happy Meal box and then leave it behind to be found? Why leave ANY trash lying around, when he’s so careful not to leave any other clues? It doesn’t make any sense!”

Ivey sighed. “Actually, Detective, it makes perfect sense. He’s leaving a deliberate trail for us to follow, without being too obvious about it. He wants us to find him. It’s all a game to him, you see.”

“A game?!?” Marc growled, his hands clenched into fists. “This fucking prick thinks this is a fucking game? We got reports of twelve missing women between the ages of eighteen and thirty, not counting the two officers listed as MIA! We’re combing the entire area, trying to find this bastard, and he’s snacking on fucking hamburgers, leaving behind the fucking wrappers like a goddamn trail of breadcrumbs! Fuck that! If I ever catch up with this son of a fucking bitch, I’ll—”

“Stifle it, Marc,” Andrew cut in, picking up his radio. “Hello, dispatch? This is Lt. Andrew Davidson here. We think our suspect is a Mickey-D’s regular. Have units dispatched to each of the area’s McDonald’s restaurants, for surveillance only. If our boy’s there, we don’t want to spook him! No one makes a move until Stevens and I get there.”

“Roger, Lieutenant,” the desk sergeant replied. “Units are on the way. Will notify you if anything changes. Out.”

Andrew nodded to his partner. “C’mon, let’s roll. Dr. Thorton wants us to find him, so let’s not keep the good doctor waiting.” He gave Ivey a smile. “Good work, doctor. It’s good having you here as part of the team.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” she said shyly. “Just trying to be of help.” She followed the two officers back to the car.

“..will notify you if anything changes. Out.” the dispatcher’s voice rang out through the police scanner. Jacob Thorton shook his head in disbelief.

“Well, I’ll be a sonofagun. They finally picked up on my clues. Heh. It only took then what... two weeks? I’m obviously dealing with inferior minds here.” He laughed, nearly busting a gut, before regaining control of himself. “Well, time to go to phase two. Oh, Barrr-braaa? Come in here, please?”

The buxom blonde entered, this time dressed in a long black judge’s robe, carrying a heavy wooden mallet. “You called, Doctor-Sweety?” she sang, wiggling her hips, allowing the unzipped robe to slip open, revealing her slim, naked body.

“The cops have finally taken the bait. Send out Dawkins and Wugner to get lunch. The usual.”

Barbara frowned, sticking out his bottom lip. “Ah, do I have to, Master?” she whined, inching herself closer to him, sticking her breasts into his face. “We were just about to play ‘judge, jury, and executioner’, and I was going to be the judge!”

“NOW, Barbara!” he said, slapping her ass hard, making her thighs moisten. “They’ll be plenty of time for you and the girls to play with your little cop friends when they get back. Right now, there’s work to be done. I’m itching to take this game to the next level... and besides, it’s lunch time and I’m hungry!” He fished a fifty dollar bill out of his pocket and slipped it into Barbara’s hand. “There. Twelve Happy Meals, and a ‘Number 4’ for myself. Dawkins and Wugner can get whatever they like, since they’re making the food run this time, but tell Dawkins to bring back my change!”

Sighing softly as his twisted little subject scampered off to do his bidding, Jacob turned the police scanner back up, listening intently, waiting for the fireworks to begin.

Andrew grunted softly to his partner, gesturing at the large black minivan parked on the far left side of the McDonald’s parking lot. Marcus, frowning, picked up his binoculars, and turned to where Andrew had indicated, gasping in surprise.

“Sonofabitch!” he exclaimed, checking again to be sure. “That’s Frank Dawkins! What the fuck is he doing here?”

“Apparently buying food,” Andrew quipped, watching the missing officer walk into the ordering line. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I think we outta go have a little talk with Frank.”

Ivey grabbed the detective’s arm as they moved to exit their car. “Wait,” she said, gathering her papers. “I’m coming with you. You might need me.”

“No, you’re staying here, in the car, doctor,” Andrew argued, pulling away. “This is a police matter. You’re here to advise, to observe, not to get shot up if things turn ugly. You stay here.”

“You might need me!” she countered, sliding out of the car. “If that is your missing friend, and he’s out, walking around, ordering food, then something is wrong! Obviously he hasn’t escaped! If he had, do you think he would run to a McDonald’s instead of contacting the police? Dr. Thorton was a brilliant psychologist. Most likely, he’s done something to your friend’s mind, brainwashed him or something. You won’t be able to deal with him, but just maybe, I can!”

Marcus growled, still staring through his binoculars. “Dammit, Andrew, bring her along. We don’t have much time! Frank’s already ordered—he’ll be coming out any minute now. We’ve gotta move it!”

Resigned, Andrew nodded. “Alright, fine. Just stay behind me. If anything goes wrong, I want you to hightail it back here, to the squad car, and wait for backup. Understand?” Ivey nodded. “Okay, let’s go.”

They reached the front entrance just as Frank left the store, his arms filled with Happy Meal boxes. Whistling a tune, he placed them carefully into the back seat of the van. “Frank?” Andrew cried out, running over to him, Marc and Ivey close behind. Frank continued loading the food, oblivious, until they were almost on top of him. “Frank!” Andrew yelled again, grabbing him by the shoulder. “Frank, it’s me, Andrew. Andrew Davidson. Are you alright?”

Frank turned to face him, his eyes bright and shining. He blinked slowly, frowning, as if thinking, then he smiled. “Hey, Andy! Good to see ya. What’s up?”

“We were hoping you could tell us, man,” Marc added. “You and your partner have been missing for nearly two weeks now, since you left to investigate that anonymous tip—”

“SHHH!” Frank hissed, glancing left and right. “Quiet! You fools! You’ll blow my cover!”

Andrew and Marc exchanged glances. “Your ‘cover’? What cover? What are you talking about?”

Frank grinned, his eyes still shining. “I’m working undercover,” he whispered. “I’m on a secret mission. You guys are detectives, you know how it goes. I pretend to be a bad guy, so the other bad guys will trust me, and tell me their secrets. Then, when their guard is down—BAM! I take ‘em down from the inside.”

Andrew frowned. “So... it was you that left behind those clues, that trail that lead us here to McDonald’s?”

“SHHH!” Frank hissed again. “Geez! Don’t you know how to whisper? They’ll overhear you, and then I’m toast! They’re already suspicious of me. That’s why they’re keeping me here, to watch me, and see who I talk to!” He glanced around again, as if afraid the SWAT team were about to burst in. “She told me it would be a few more minutes, but I think they’re just stalling me.”

Ivey couldn’t hold back anymore. “Who? Who is stalling? Who said it would be a few more minutes?”

Frank scowled. “The Columbians, of course! Don’t you people know anything? This is a front for the Columbia Drug Cartel! Look! Back there, standing at the front of the store, on the corner! The guy with the red hair?” He leaned in close. “He’s secretly the HEAD of the Jacksonville branch! He’s the ringleader!”

Marcus blinked in surprise. “Frank!” he yelled loudly. “Are you fucking insane? That’s not even a man! That’s a statue of Ronald McDonald! He’s made out of plastic, for God’s sakes! What the hell did that doctor do to your head, man?”

At that moment, a young woman in a McDonald’s work shirt emerged from the entrance, holding up a paper bag. “Excuse me, sir!” she yelled, waving the bag. “You’re apple pies are ready now. Here they are!”

“SHIT!” Frank yelled, pulling away, drawing his gun. “You stupid fucks! I’ve been made now, all thanks to you! SHIT!!” He fired wildly, up into the air, while the two detectives and their liaison scrambled for cover. The McDonald’s worker screamed and ran back into the store. Frank ran, grabbing up the apple pies, then dove into the van’s driver seat.

“What the hell is going on over here?” a female uniformed officer asked, crouching down behind a car next to Andrew, Marc, and Ivey. “I heard shooting! What’s happening here?”

Marc unholstered his gun. “That’s Frank Dawkins, the missing detective from the Thorton case! he yelled. “Shit, man! This is fucked up. FUCKED up! We’ve gotta catch that crazy son of a bitch before he hurts somebody!”

The van took off in a squeal of burning rubber. Andrew got to his feet, turning to face the woman officer while Marc ran for their car. “Officer, take care of Dr. Parkinson for us,” he said quickly, drawing his gun. “Ivey, stay here with the officer, where it’s safe. Marc and I are going after Frank. If we’re lucky, he might just lead us to Dr. Thorton.”

“But... but..” Ivey stammered as Andrew jumped into the police car. Marc spun the wheels, leaving the scene with as loud a squeal as the black van, taking off in hot pursuit. Ivey shook her head, trying to relax, the shock of the past few minutes just starting to wear off. “I hope they catch him,” she said softly, as the officer led her away from the scene, towards the center of the parking lot.

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll catch him, eventually,” the officer replied. “Frank never was that good of a driver. I always insisted on doing the driving when we rode together.”

A chill ran the length of Ivey’s spine. “When... when YOU rode with him?” she asked. “Uhm excuse me, officer, I didn’t catch your name.”

The woman removed her hat, letting her long dark hair run freely. She smiled, her eyes shining brightly. “The name’s Robin. Detective Robin Wugner.” She continued to smile as she slapped a pair of handcuffs on Ivey’s wrists. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” she said cheerfully. “Now, I think we should go. I need to get you out of here, someplace safe, like the Lieutenant wanted. And believe me, Dr. Parkinson, I know just the place for you.”

Ivey’s eyes went wide with fear as Dr. Thorton walked into the room. “Hello again, Ivey,” he said cordially, stepping over to a small wooden cabinet. “It’s good to see you again. I have so missed our little talks. Of all the headshrinkers that tried to scramble my brains, I liked you the best.”

“Is this really necessary, doctor?” she asked angrily, shaking the chains around her wrists, ankles, and encircling three-fourths of her body. “It’s not like I can get away. Do you have to tie me up in these heavy cold chains?”

“I think they’re a nice touch,” Thorton replied, running a hand gently across the sole of her bare sole, making her yelp. “As for the cold, I’m sure your bare flesh will warm them up nicely after a while. I do regret having to strip you naked this way, but... well, hell, I’m lying, I don’t regret it at all! You’re a real looker when you’re not hiding your God-given assets behind those dreary shapeless clothes and that cold, mousy demeanor. You’re a lovely woman, Ivey... if only you bothered to act like one.”

Ivey glared back, biting down on the overwhelming fear she felt. “And I suppose you intend to help me with that, Doctor?” she spat venomously. “The same way you ‘helped’ those two police detectives? The same way you ‘helped’ those poor women you have cavorting around naked in the next room?”

Thorton cocked his head to the side, considering. “Yes, actually, something like that,” he grinned. Reaching inside the wooden cabinet, he withdrew a small decanter and two glasses. “How about a drink? I’ve got a pretty well-stocked pantry here, despite these rather boorish settings. Tell me, what’s your poison... Ivey?” He launched into a fit of laughter amused by his own pun. “Poison Ivey. Oh, that’s a good one,” he chuckled. “I’m a funny man.”

“Well, I’m glad someone thinks so,” Ivey murmured.

“You see? That’s what I mean,” Dr. Thorton said, tossing the glass hard against the wall, shattering it into pieces. “You have absolutely no sense of humor. Fun’s a foreign concept to you. You wouldn’t know from comedy if it ran up and bit you on the arse.” He walked back to the foot of the bed again, his smile changed to a knowing smirk.

“You know, Ivey,” he said softly, rubbing her soft slender foot gently, “in all the time you spent trying to psychoanalyze me, I had plenty of time to analyze you. You’re one of those controlling personalities, the type of person that never drinks, is very choosy about her relationships, who NEVER dates, never engages in spontaneous activities. You’re afraid of losing control. Your entire life is built and structured on structure. In very clinical, highly-technical terms, you’re a tight ass.” He gently scraped his short trimmed nails along her sole, eliciting a gasp, then a soft giggle, as she attempted in vain to pull her foot away. “I think its time I helped you lighten up a little, put a smile on those pretty lips of yours.”

“EEEKK! NO! STooaaahahahahahahahappp thhhaaahahahattt! It teeeeehehehehehecckless!! Hahahaha hahahahahaha!” she screamed, bursting into hysterical laughter. Dr. Thorton ignore her pleas, tickling her soft bare feet relentlessly, continuing to talk to her as if nothing was happening.

“You probably don’t recall the time you tried to hypnotize me,” he continued, working the soft spaces between her clenching, flexing toes. “Now that was fun. I guess you never read Erickson very deeply when you were in college. I turned your own technique against you, putting you in a trance. I then questioned you at length, and oh, the intimate little secrets you shared with me. Like your childhood phobia of tickling! You hated it, hated the way it made you laugh, so out of control, unable to do anything to stop it.” He began working on her long high arches, wringing further howls of laughter from the girl. “You told me about the time your older cousin Johnny held you down and tickled you until you peed your pants. You were so embarrassed, so utterly mortified at your loss of control, that you vowed then and there to keep a tight reign on yourself, and to never lose control like that again.”

“Yoooouuuhhhhhh siiiiccckkk bassstarrddd!!” she managed to wail between peals of laughter. Her body felt loose and weak, muscles too tired from the uncoordinated wriggling and writhing she’d been doing in a desperate attempt to get free. Her helplessness, her inability to escape, only increased her ticklishness, making her feel even more open and exposed. She hated it, hated it, but she couldn’t stop him from tickling her senseless.

Dr. Thorton grinned to himself. He knew exactly which buttons to push, and he was pushing, or rather, TICKLING all of them. It would take more than a severe foot tickling to break Dr. Ivey Parkinson, to make her as deeply twisted and depraved as the others, but he knew well enough that this simple act went a long way into breaking down her resistance. He chuckled softly to himself, echoing her laughter. She would crack in time, her lovely mind shattering like a crystal under his gentle tickling touch. He would tickle her, literally, out of her mind.

“Well, like I always say,” he mused to himself as Ivey passed into unconsciousness several minutes later, “if you gotta go out, go out with a smile.”