The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Doll House Collection

Keiko

by Larss

“Just for a little longer. You’re being very patient, and you look so pretty. I want to get this just right.", the woman said.

Keiko blushed. She had not been tired, but the woman’s voice made her tingle. She would stay in the pose as long as the woman liked. She loved to hear that she was pretty.

Keiko’s mother said that Keiko should have been a kitten and stayed one her entire life. From the time she learned to smile, Keiko’s mother said that her daughter loved to perform. She would smile with no reason as an infant because everyone’s face would light up when she did, and her mother loved the smile so much that she would hug Keiko close every time which make Keiko smile all over again. When she was old enough to point, she would always choose the pretty dresses and grasp at the ribbons so her mother would tie them in her hair because she saw how her mother and father loved seeing her be pretty. She would twirl and frolic like a kitten, and she couldn’t resist the delight she felt when her parents thought it was pretty too.

Little changed as she learned to walk which led her to dance. She tried all styles. Ballet was her favorite.

Keiko’s mother never needed to scold or punish Keiko. Keiko asked for little and made no trouble. Her parents worried over that fact. They’d expected at least some stubbornness or difficulty. So, it came as a relief when their little daughter asked if they would take her to the ballet. When they said no because it was too expensive, a petulant expression darkened Keiko’s clear, cheerful face. Keiko walked away, and for the first time, she pouted and hid in her room.

Her parents relented. They would go to the ballet, and they let Keiko choose. She chose Swan Lake, even though it was months away. In the meantime, Keiko soothed her impatience with videos from the library: The Nutcracker, Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, Romeo & Juliet, and any other she might find.

Keiko hopped in her seat as they drove to the performance. She had chosen her prettiest dress and had done her hair up in curls. Her father said that she was especially pretty when she emerged from her bedroom. Keiko beamed.

She was in awe of the clothes. The long, colorful gowns and stark black-and-white tuxedos thrilled her, and when a lady brushed past her, the velvet of the woman’s cape caressed Keiko’s cheek, and she smelled the perfume the woman wore. It was something beyond even a dream.

The lush wine-colored carpet and glittering chandelier left her overwhelmed, and she would have missed the overture if her mother hadn’t tugged Keiko out of her reverie and towards the concert hall.

Keiko sat on her father’s lap since she was too small to see the entire stage from her seat, and when the music started, Keiko went still.

The videos she’d seen were beautiful, and she loved the music and melodies. This was different. The sound. It was real. It was alive. She could see the harpist’s hands pluck the strings, see the violinist’s hand move the bow, and hear the sounds together. She saw then making it, and it was so different than the recordings. She felt like she was bathing in it.

She gasped when the curtain rose and the dancers emerged. Her father felt her tremble.

She did not move again nor make a sound throughout the first act but was still with her hand held to her mouth, her eyes wide.

She was near tears when the curtain came down at the end of the first act and needed her father’s reassurance that it was not over. Her father hugged her and said there were two more acts. He nodded to reassure her. She nodded almost imperceptibly, desperate and needing it to be true. Her eyes still wide, she made no struggle when her mother took her hand and said that they all needed to go to the bathroom.

Keiko saw the faces of the people in their pretty clothes, and she loved how everyone seemed bright and cheerful as they talked about the first act. A woman with dark eyes who wore a black velvet gown trimmed with white saw Keiko’s expression.

“Your first ballet?", the woman asked, her eyes glittering.

Keiko could only nod. Her mother answered for Keiko and said that it was. The woman smiled. She leaned down, and Keiko and she looked into each others’ eyes.

“You’ll remember every detail of tonight and how it made you feel.", the woman said.

Keiko nodded, and the woman nodded back, the black eyes sparkling.

They were back in their seats in plenty of time for the second act, and the instant the music started, it was as though a spell had been cast.

The dancers leapt and spun as though there was nothing to hold them to the ground, and they didn’t jump as Keiko did. They extended, departed from the ground, floated, and returned to earth again as though they could do it at will or stay up forever if they chose. It was beautiful beyond imagining.

Keiko was in tears for the finale of the third act. After the applause had died and she’d clapped as loud as she could, she hugged to her father’s chest and wouldn’t let go. He carried her to the car, and she collapsed in the back seat.

From that night, the presents for her birthday and Christmas were the same: the Nutcracker for Christmas, Swan Lake for her birthday.

Growing older, her skill at dance improved, and her body grew into and was formed by constant practice into the long, athletic lines of a ballerina. She earned scholarships, won competitions, and from the audiences, she felt the emotions she had directed towards the dancers at Swan Lake when she was little. Now, with more and more strength, they were being directed at her.

She was no longer described as pretty. She was now elegant, graceful, weightless, agile, and striking.

Along with the language used to describe her, the nature of her reaction changed. The same giddiness and insuppressible smiles still appeared, and with those, a deeper resonance, like the plucked string of a bass or the deep rumble of a bassoon emerged as well.

She felt no need or desire to act on this new resonance at first. She did notice what she believed was that same resonance in others, especially from those her own age. They looked at her with a hunger. She liked it.

She gave into it soon after with a boy from her dance class and found the pleasure shocking. In the act, his eyes became animal and dark, like he was lost in his desire for her, and when he was lost, what he wanted was clear. He wanted to consume her, not her body, but the part of her which he found beautiful. It was like he wanted that part of her to be inside of him. Seeing his desire for that made him irresistible. She responded to it without thinking and shook at the explosion of pleasure that rumbled through her.

Amidst these discoveries, Keiko had graduated high school and moved to New York. Too short of money to come home, her parents visited for Christmas and brought Keiko her present: The Nutcracker performed by the New York Ballet at Lincoln Center. Keiko wept at the end; she always did.

Keiko began to get small parts as a fill-in on some of the Broadway shows, and she continued to study. Her skills had risen so that she was drawing notices from those in the know, and she’d heard rumors of being under consideration for major parts.

Dancing had become quiet and slow. She didn’t think when she did it nor was she conscious of the music. The music, her body, and her mind melded into one thing, and she couldn’t separate them.

She could notice things that she could not notice at any other time, such as the texture of the fabric on her costume down to the individual threads of the weave. She could see the muscles tremble on her partners’ legs when they prepared for a leap. She could remember where an audience member had been sitting when they came to congratulate her afterwards.

This sense of slowness left her awash in the feelings being directed towards her. It came from the people in the audience like a river, and she believed she could see eddies and strong currents of it from the people who were particularly taken. She would spin and feel like a vortex which drew in their emotions, and it made her push herself to be that much more perfect, that much more beautiful.

After a performance, she was exhausted while also being ravenous for the deeper needs, and as time passed, she came to recognize the ones who were like her. They could hide it with polite smiles, and they would be the most delicate and timid when they took her hand to shake it or kiss it if they were courtly. Almost all were awkward, like a shaking vessel overfilled with energy and no outlet. She could see that they wanted to tear at her with their eyes and their hands. She did not care who they were, man or woman, rich or poor. The passion was what mattered. She would sleep for the entire day following an encounter with one like that.

A woman appeared backstage after a performance when Keiko was lost in that ravenous feeling. Beautiful and possessing a sense of age which did not show in her face or body, she looked at Keiko with the intense hunger that Keiko craved. They did not speak. The woman extended her hand, and Keiko reached for her. They left through a side door and entered a glossy, black car.

At the woman’s penthouse, the woman helped Keiko strip while Keiko stared at the woman’s eyes. Blacker than black, Keiko watched and waited. The hunger in those eyes was overwhelming, and Keiko could not look away while the black eyes moved over her body.

It was like dancing. The woman made her feel as though time had stopped. There were no thoughts, only awareness. She could see the lustrous black hair, the pale skin which was smooth and tactile, like porcelain, and the red lips, soft and full, all this around the dark eyes that revealed the hunger inside.

The woman moved towards Keiko. She placed her hands on Keiko’s shoulders and slid them down Keiko’s arms then lifted Keiko’s arms up over her head.

Like a sculptor, the woman posed the left arm away from Keiko’s body, extending it up over Keiko’s head, pointing towards the sky. She took time to adjust and arrange each of Keiko’s fingers. The woman then posed Keiko’s right arm, creating a line across Keiko’s body which extended from the tip of the fingers on her left hand down to the tips of the fingers of the right. In her mind, Keiko saw the image in the woman’s mind, and she fell into the pose.

The movement consumed an eternity in Keiko’s mind. She made every movement towards the pose perfect so each was a pleasure to see. She felt every muscle pull itself into perfect tension and position. She completed the pose by raising her head towards her raised fingertips, and then set her gaze to the space beyond it. When the pose was perfect and complete, every part of Keiko became still.

The pose made Keiko look as though she were a fairy watching a bird and was preparing to leap into the air after it.

The woman strolled around Keiko for a long time. Keiko felt the waves of approval and desire radiating off the woman, and were she able to move, she would have trembled at the agony of waiting.

The woman did slide her long-fingered hands over Keiko’s skin, and it made the exquisite torture of waiting worse for both. The woman sighed and kissed the nape of Keiko’s neck.

“You’re the loveliest creature I’ve seen.", the woman said.

Keiko’s mind was demolished. Pleasure with the force of a subway car crashed into and over her. A sleep devoured her, and she dreamt of a black pleasure that her senses could not comprehend.

Keiko awoke the next morning, and the woman was sitting up in bed, wearing a white robe, cradling Keiko in her lap, and looking down on her with a gentle smile. Keiko began to speak, but the woman shushed Keiko and said that she understood that Keiko had many questions. She said that Keiko should only enjoy think of the pleasure and memory of the previous night. Keiko’s questions evaporated. The woman smiled, and Keiko shivered with delight. They ate breakfast together with little conversation.

Keiko felt beautiful every time the woman looked at her.

After breakfast, the woman gave Keiko a long embrace, and Keiko melted. The taut muscles which let her move as though she were weightless gave way, and she felt shapeless and wonderful as the woman held her tight. She’d never felt as beautiful.

“Will I see you again?", Keiko asked at the door.

“I will be watching. I can offer you something when the time is right.", the woman said.

Keiko returned to her life. She improved further, and the offers began to arrive. Within a few years, the words inspired and transcendent were used to describe Keiko’s mastery, and the choreographers told her that there was nothing like her to be found. She was a Prima Ballerina Assoluta. The title made her giddy.

The dance now stopped for her at times. She would leap and stop in the air for as long as she liked, noticing every detail of the tension in her muscles and the heat of the lights on her body. The rivers of affection from the crowds grew, and in those moments of silence, Keiko would scan the crowd for the woman from that night. She believed she saw her a few times, but the woman did not approach her again.

The pleasure in that stillness led her to begin work as a model for sculpture classes.

Under a single light from overhead, she could form a pose and freeze into it, feeling the eyes of the artists around her. Like that sexual hunger, she felt she was being consumed then made over again. Their statues would be her, seen through someone else’s eyes. She walked away from the classes feeling light-headed.

More years passed and seeking that stillness became her life. The time in-between was pale. Her dancing reached the stage of magic to her and even the connoisseurs were left speechless as she added the tiniest details and flourishes to the perfection.

In that perfection, for the first time, Keiko felt sadness approach on the horizon of her life. Her body, tuned to perfection, had reached its apex where every move was effortless. The choreographers attempted new challenges to accentuate her skill, but there was nothing Keiko could not master. Simultaneous to that, her friends, even those only a few years older, were seeing the edges of their skills erode. She saw that it would happen to her as well.

She took extra parts, wanting to use every moment when she was what she had wanted to be. Her body warned her with lingering tenderness in her muscles, but she pushed past it for those moments of stillness until her body gave way, and she experienced her first serious injury.

After prescribing therapy and more importantly, four weeks of rest, the doctor said there would be no lasting effects. He also admonished Keiko for the schedule she had attempted. You are not indestructible, he told her. There are limits.

Keiko cried for two days. She’d not had a day where she’d not danced since she was three, and even when she violated the doctor’s orders and tried, her body lashed back at her with pain and a refusal to work. She brooded in her apartment.

The only light in those weeks were her times as a model. She could be pretty. It helped. She felt like herself, and after three weeks, she was back to being herself.

* * *

“Just for a little longer. You’re being very patient, and you look so pretty. I want to get this just right.”

Keiko blushed. She had not been tired, but the woman’s voice made her tingle. She would stay in the pose as long as the woman liked. She loved to hear that she was pretty.

Keiko lost track of time. It was bliss.

“Ok, sweetheart.”

Keiko noticed her surroundings again. They were alone, and the woman held her by the shoulders and smiled. It was the woman from before with the dark eyes, porcelain skin and red lips. She was just the same.

“Still the loveliest creature I’ve seen, and even more lovely than before.", the woman said.

Keiko gasped at the sight of the woman and the pleasure of her presence, her words, her hands.

“I’ve come to offer you something.", the woman said.

Keiko leapt towards the woman and closed her arms around her in a ferocious embrace. The woman held her tight.

“Can you make it last forever?", Keiko asked.

The woman stroked Keiko’s hair.

“Yes.", she replied.

The director had offered Keiko anything within his power to give as Keiko’s contract approached its end: flowers, a special dressing room decorated as she saw fit, even creative control. When she refused, he spoke with other directors, asking what enticements they had offered, and then he offered those as well. Refused, he resorted to offering more and more money. Keiko only smiled at him with a trace of admonishment when he did.

Near the end, Keiko’s attitude softened after she’d spent a weekend away at her private retreat which she’d disappeared into more and more often, and she came to the director’s office and said she wanted to extend her contract.

The director’s heart leapt, but Keiko continued. She wanted to extend her contract for a final series of performances. These would be the last. The director offered her double her current rate, and she refused. She would work at her normal salary, but she had one demand: he must not tell anyone that this was the end, and it must not be on the contract. If she could not accept his word, she would not perform. The director had the papers made, and Keiko signed them the next day. The director shook her hand and promised. She crossed around his desk and hugged him, whispered her thanks, and promised to create something special for this final turn.

The stillness that had become her friend came to Keiko during the first of the performances, and the affection from the audience enveloped her as she glided along the stage. She caught every eye in the darkness beyond the colored lights, and as she did, she saw them react to her as well as the dance. Their posture would change, and they would lean towards her.

The woman had told her this secret in the time they’d spent together: when you look, see them and what’s behind the eyes, and they will see you as well. The ones whom you can’t resist, the ones whose passion explodes across the hall and makes you weak, they see it because it’s in them already, and they know enough to see it in you.

The woman had taught Keiko to do what the woman did. Give them a part of yourself, and they will be seduced. Then, Keiko could give back everything they’ve given to her for so long, and then, they will all be irresistible to you and you to them.

Keiko had only been able to manage this with a few the first nights, but as the performances continued, she found it more and more, and it became more than the audience watching a dance; they were watching Keiko and they were watching her dance.

The first time it happened, she feared being able to finish. A whisper had gone through the audience at the inkling of it touching them all, and after that, there was silence and stillness. No one moved, and for a long, quiet, and blissful moment, the hall echoed with the final chords of music until there was nothing, except Keiko in her final pose and a silent audience staring at her.

Keiko broke the stillness when she moved and bowed. The crowd erupted. Keiko’s legs went weak, and she leaned on her partner for the curtain calls.

The woman was waiting for her in her dressing room. Keiko collapsed in her arms.

“This is impossible.", Keiko whispered.

“Sleep for just a few minutes. You’ll awake and be ready to do it all again if you needed to.", the woman said.

Keiko did sleep, and she awoke just as the woman said. Keiko had not noticed the woman’s eyes were tear-stained before, but she noticed now.

“It’s from joy, Keiko.", the woman said.

The silence grew longer and longer each night. Keiko grew to savor this shared stillness when everything within the walls had stopped, and she had seen them all, and they had seen her, and she had given back every measure of affection that had been given to her.

The final night arrived.

No word had even been whispered of this being the end, but the performances and their reputation had spread. Keiko, taciturn as a rule before a performance, was silent. She offered a friendly smile and gentle embraces to everyone in the company, but she did not speak. The director was the last, and he saw her eyes and the emotion in them, and he understood. He wanted to speak, but any words would have loosed it all. So, he did not press and held her close, knowing she understood his gratitude.

There was stillness from the fall of the overture. Keiko left herself vulnerable to the point that any cruelty might have crushed her, but it did not exist in that room after she began. The performance might have taken a year to complete for all she knew, and at times, it seemed to her that she had not moved or danced at all, but the final chords did arrive, and the hall fell silent. Keiko held the final pose.

She let herself melt out of it, and she looked at the silent audience that stared at her like old and dear friends. She whispered into the dark in a voice barely audible for fear of shattering the crystal silence.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.", she repeated.

The crowd remained still, and she trotted off the stage with silent steps.

She was weeping before she reached the woman at the stage door. As she passed through it and into the waiting car, she heard the explosion of applause as the car’s door shut. The woman’s arms were around her, warm and gentle with the hint of perfume in the velvet where Keiko hid her face.

“Promise me forever again. Please?", Keiko asked.

The woman kissed her head, “Forever, like the stars overhead. Beautiful, like a flower in bloom. I promise.”

Keiko lived in stillness, even when the woman came to her and played the music so Keiko could dance. The woman called Keiko’s home a music box and smiled as Keiko danced over the stage large enough for an entire company.

The woman often watched Keiko alone, but there were also performances for small groups. Keiko loved both, and she loved the woman, and the music, and how she felt when she danced, and most of all, she loved the words the woman always gave her when Keiko finished.

“The loveliest creature I’ve seen.”