The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The alarm clock roused Jane out of another fitful sleep. Once again she had dreamed of her father and what he had done to her. She spent a couple of minutes crying into her pillow before her mother opened the door, reminding her it was time to get up. Jane wiped her eyes and shut off her alarm. She went to the bathroom and washed her face, then began applying her makeup.

She was actually quite pretty when she wasn’t crying. Smooth, brown hair and deep, doe-like eyes like sapphire pools in moonlight, set in a childish, innocent face. She used makeup only to hide the signs of her crying, a trick she had learned early on, because of what her father had done, before her mother had killed the larger man in self-defense, slicing him open with a skinning knife as he had gone on yet another of his rages. Jane had lain there unresponsive, in shock from the violation, bleeding from the crotch. But that was nearly ten years ago now. She had gone to therapist after therapist until the money had run out, but still the dreams came.

She shook the thought out of her mind and returned to her bedroom to dress. Slipping out of her sleep shirt and panties, she put on a pretty, red silk bra. It took another minute of searching, but she finally found the matching panties. Her trim, triangular bush disappeared into the fabric. She put on a figure-hugging sweater, her pert breasts accented by the stretchy material. She then put on her short, Spandex-type skirt and stepped into her two-inch heels.

“Breakfast is ready!” her mother called. Jane gave her hair a quick brushing and bound it back with a rubber band. Sitting down at the table, she ate her eggs, grits and hash browns first, washing down each bite with a sip of milk or orange juice. Just as she was finishing that, Marshall pulled up in the drive. Kissing her mother on the cheek, she collected her bacon, biscuits and the remains of one hash brown in a napkin. She finished off the milk and juice before she left, grabbing a Hi-C from the fridge.

Marshall held open the door for her as she climbed in. Strange how it was so much easier to forget her troubles when he was around. He was an okay looking guy with dark hair, a triangular chin and intermediate musculature. He made good grades in school, and had taken all but two of his required courses in his freshman, sophomore and junior years, leaving the rest of his day open for his various martial arts classes, which he was paying to take at the local dojo. Jane felt safe around him. While other people wanted to grow up to be soldiers, cops, firefighters or doctors, Marshall’s ambition was to be a bodyguard, and maybe even join the Secret Service. There were times she wished she had known Marshall when she was seven. He could have protected her from...she shoved the thought out of her mind, munching on the remains of her breakfast as Marshall drove her to Harlene Quinzelle High School—named for a young woman who had gone over the nearby ravine, not the she-jester from the Batman animated series.

Marshall parked under one of the lamps that illuminated the lot during games and such which were held late at night. They still had a half-hour before class began. He opened the ashtray below his radio and withdrew four packages of chewing gum. Jane smiled, selecting a stick of Trident Whitening and leaning back in her seat.

“Have you been having the dreams again?” he asked. She nodded.

“They’re not as bad as they used to be, but I still wake up crying.”

“Poor, sweet Jane.” he sighed, stroking her cheek. He gazed into her eyes, and she smiled. He had such wonderful green eyes. They were so deep...so deep she could lose herself in them. As he spoke softly to her, she gazed into those wonderful emerald depths, letting go of her troubles and cares as she did so, listening to his voice and gazing into his eyes and relaxing. Always relaxing. His eyes made her feel so relaxed...

Jane awoke fifteen minutes later, feeling refreshed and happy. She smiled up at Marshall. He was so wonderful, the way he helped her relax and push away the unpleasantness, at least for a time. If ever in the world there was somebody she could marry and have children with, it would be Marshall. But she still wasn’t past her emotional trauma, and the very notion of sex was still very much abhorrent to her. She held hands with him as they approached the school building. They had Honors English 4 together, so she could stay in his comforting presence a while longer. English class came and went too quickly for Jane’s liking, but there was nothing for it except to let him escort her to Domestic Culinary Skills class—still required for all female students—before he went off to his American Government class.

Jane put up with DCS because she had no choice. The school board was evasive, citing half a dozen state laws without truly answering any of her questions. The state legislature said it was too busy to bother with the question of whether or not girls should have to take domestic skills classes. None of the courts Jane had tried to contact had replied to her as yet, even with a form letter.

Also, since she had started seeing Marshall, she had begun to imagine herself using what she had learned in these classes with him. Cooking for him, cleaning for him.

Caring for his children.

These thoughts both confused and fascinated her. On one hand she still couldn’t bring herself to think of having sex with anybody, even Marshall, much less getting pregnant. On the other hand, Marshall was a very special person, and if anybody could help her get past her mental blocks, he could, and if he could do that, then he deserved all the love and devotion she was beginning to feel for him, and more. So she put up with the class.

Second period gave way to morning break, and Marshall met her in the hall as she was putting her books away. He escorted her to the cafeteria where snacks were being served. Making sure none of the four monitors were looking, he ushered her to where the line entered the partitioned enclave where food was served.

“Hey, buddy, you mind? We’re in kind of a rush.” Marshall lied to one of the computer nerds standing in the line.

“Uh, not at all.” the nerd replied, intimidated by the taller young man.

“Thanks.” Marshall replied. He stood Jane in front of him, one arm around her in an instinctively protective stance. Jane sighed, relaxing against him until the line moved. When their turn finally came, Marshall told her to take what she liked, and gave her a ten. Jane took a few triads of fried mozzarella sticks and some dipping sauce. Handing Marshall his change, she waited for him to pay for his purchases before continuing on. He bought soft drinks for each of them from the vending machines against the wall and led her to the senior lounge. They staked out a table and sat with their snacks and drinks. They chatted idly about this and that. He offered to help her with her algebra homework later on. When she had finished her mozzarella sticks, he caught her gaze, and she stared back at him, into his eyes, listening to his words and feeling herself relax. She was refreshed, if slightly disoriented, when she came back to herself outside her World Economics class.

“I’ll see you this afternoon, Jane.” he said softly, kissing her on the cheek. She smiled, watching him round the corner. Once he was gone, she remembered she had class and found her seat before the tardy bell rang. This day couldn’t be over with fast enough. World Economics and the two classes afterwards, Computer Science and Theater Productions seemed to drag by interminably. She found herself checking the clock every five minutes. Lunch consisted of little, square cheese pizzas barely half a square foot in size, rotini salad, corn and chocolate pudding. On her way to a seating place, she passed four Hindu friends who gladly gave her their pizzas, since it was made with cow’s milk and beef. She traded her rotini salad to a science nerd for his pizza, flashing a little cleavage as extra persuasion and then sat next to her vegetarian friend, Sara, who scraped the cheese and beef off her pizza and ate the crust. Since, in Jane’s opinion, the cheese and beef was the only palatable part of the pizza, she gave Jane her crusts and ate the pile of cheese and beef with her fork. Giving her friend her corn, she set herself on the pudding, a well-deserved treat after putting up with the chill in Mrs. Whittacker’s room. Just because the old bitch had hot flashes didn’t mean she had to put her students in cryo-stasis for the duration of the class. It was always so hard to pay attention to the lessons when she couldn’t hear the teacher over the chattering of her own teeth.

“Tough day in Ms. Whittacker’s again?” Sara asked, her concern touching.

“Yeah. How about you?”

“I manage. I’m seeing someone now.” Sara said. “You should meet him. You’d like him.”

“No thanks. I don’t want Marshall to get jealous.” Jane replied.

“So have you two done it yet?” Sara asked, smiling.

“Not yet.” Jane replied. “But...he’s helping. I feel like I’ve made more progress with him than with any of the therapists I saw.”

“You must really love this guy if you’re willing to go through all this for him.” Sara said. “I wish you luck.”

“Thanks.” She lifted her tea glass in mock toast. “To your five-month anniversary of being a vegetarian. May you outlive us all.” Sara chuckled, clicking her plastic tea glass against Jane’s.

“You know the Japanese guy who lives down the street from me? He says I don’t’ smell as bad as other Americans.”

“Yeah, I heard vegetarians can smell a meat-eater a mile away. So...”

“So? What?”

“So do I stink to you yet?” Jane asked, sipping her tea.

“Jane!” Sara replied, affecting to be shocked.

“I promise I won’t think less of you.” Jane said.

“Okay. A little.” Sara replied, blushing.

“You just need a few more months’ ‘cleansing.’” Jane said. “And I noticed you not looking at me eating my pile of animal-byproducts and government cheese.” Sara chuckled, sliding over her pudding.

“Silly Vegan that I am I almost forgot that pudding’s made with milk.” Sara said.

“Well, far be it for me to let something like this go to waste.” Jane said, setting Sara’s pudding bowl inside her empty one. “You could have gotten the chef’s salad, you know.”

“With eggs, ham, turkey and cheese? Thank you, no. The pizza’s easier to clean off.” Sara replied. Jane shrugged. They carried their trays to the cleaning station together and dropped them off. They had art together next period. Then Sara would go home and Jane would go to the office for her shift as an Office Aide. Then Jane would be free to go home. She couldn’t wait! Being an Office Aide for one period each day would look great on her resume after she graduated, but answering the phones, taking messages and walking around the school collecting roll slips held little fascination for her. Between phone calls and as she made her way around the school, she thought about Marshall. She surprised herself with the domesticality of her thoughts. She found herself fantasizing about nursing an infant while kneeling beside Marshall and watching the older ones play. She fantasized about preparing meals for a growing family, making sure to time everything just right so it would all be ready when Marshall got home from work.

She fantasized about waking up every morning with his arm curled protectively around her, even in sleep, making her feel safe and loved. The thoughts made her feel hot. Her nipples puckered and hardened, poking through her bra like erasers. She began to feel an unfamiliar heat between her legs. The more she pursued this train of thought, the hotter she became. By the time she returned to the office, she felt as if she were straddling a furnace. When the bell rang to leave, she packed her things quickly, and eagerly headed out to the parking lot. As she climbed in the car, Marshall seemed to notice something unusual.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” she said. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you last period, and the more I thought about you, the more...” He caressed her cheek.

“You’re almost ready.” he said. “You’re almost free.” His gaze locked with hers. It was as though she had tunnel-vision. All she could see were the beautiful eyes. “We’re going to stop by my house, and then I’ll explain everything.” he said.

“Yes.” she replied, her voice cool and calm despite the desire that burned in her. She had a vague idea what that desire was, but couldn’t quite put her finger on it. The ride to Marshall’s house seemed to take forever as curiosity, desire and an undercurrent of fear churned within her. She felt an emotional mess as she ascended the steps, his arm reassuringly around her. He called her mother to tell her where they were, and went up to his bedroom. She was nervous when he told her to lie down, but complied.

“Relax.” he said. “You’ve still got your clothes on.” He gazed into her eyes. She could hear his words consoling, calming, relaxing her. The words were reassuring and pleasant. She stared into his eyes as, muscle by muscle, her body began to relax. Finally, her eyes sagged shut, and she was floating. “Now, Jane,” he said, “listen closely. I’m going to count backwards from five, and when I reach one, you are going to start to remember the things I taught you the other times you’ve gazed into my eyes and came to this wonderful, floating place. Five, four, three, two, one.”

Jane remembered. She recalled the first time it had happened. He had calmed her, helped her accept the thought of being friends with him, even though he was a guy. Later, he had helped her extend friendship to other guys, and then began to gradually confine her rape-association to one man, instead of all men. When she no longer blamed all men for the rape which had scarred her soul and caused her to wake up screaming every night, he began to work on the dreams, gradually reducing their power until she only woke up crying, not screaming. Then, only a couple of weeks ago, he had begun work on getting her to understand that rape was all about power, and that sex was okay if it was an expression of love between two people. Only today had he taken the step of focusing her sexual energy toward the one she trusted most: Marshall.

“I remember.” she whispered, barely perceptibly.

“Good, Jane.” Marshall said. “Now, are you ready to be freed?”

“Yes.” Jane replied.

“Good.” She felt his hand caressing her cheek. “Open your eyes, Jane, and look into mine.” She opened them, gazing up into Marshall’s beautiful eyes. “My eyes are your anchor, Jane, holding you steady as you prepare to cut loose a malignant weight from your life. Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Jane replied.

“Your father was a sick, twisted soul, Jane. Now he is nothing more than emotional dead weight. You have to let him go, Jane. Let him go, and let his memory join him in the grave. You can do it, Jane. Just picture your bond with him as a rope around your waist. Can you see the rope, Jane?”

“Yes.” Jane replied, her voice softer as Marshall’s eyes held her in trance.

“Focus your will into a knife, Jane. With your will honed as I have taught you, you can cut him free, and free yourself of his weight. It will only take five strokes to saw through the rope. Ready? One, you’ve made a nice incision. Two, getting deeper now. Three, you’ve cut down to the core. Four, almost through the rope now. Five, and he’s gone, cut loose from your life.” Jane felt as if an enormous weight had lifted from her shoulders.

“All gone.” she sighed, happily, slumping into the pillows behind her. “All gone.”

“Yes, Jane, all gone.” Marshall said. “The only question now is what you want to do now.” Jane leaned up and kissed Marshall, tentatively probing her tongue into his mouth. He returned the kiss, pulling her up to meet him. She began to tug at the buttons of his shirt. The buttons popped off as she opened his shirt. Next were the pants, which she unfastened as best she could with her eyes still fixed on Marshall’s. “Close your eyes, Jane, and you can still see my eyes in your mind.” he said. She did close her eyes, sighing happily as he kissed her. “The eyes draw you deeper and deeper into relaxation, Jane. Deeper and deeper.”

“Deeper.” Jane sighed.

“Yes, deeper and deeper.” Marshall said, kicking off his shoes and his pants. “Now, Jane, what is it you want?”

“I want to be with you.” Jane said. “Always.” Marshall slid his boxers off, freeing his erection.

“You can open your eyes, now, Jane, but keep my eyes in your mind.” Jane opened her eyes, staring at nothing. “Stand beside the bed, dear.” he said. She stood. Marshall kissed her deeply before removing her sweater. He massaged one of her breasts through the beautiful bra as he slid her skirt to the ground. Bending down, he removed first one shoe, then the other, lightly kissing the toes as she moaned in response. He worked his way up, kissing up her calf, then her thigh, bringing his mouth to her pubis. The sensations of his mouth on her drew passionate moans from her lips. Her panties were nearly soaked through. Marshall undid her bra and let it fall to the floor, then slid her panties off. “Are you sure you want to give yourself to me?” Marshall asked.

“Yes.” Jane moaned. He kissed her again as he guided her back to the bed. He was gentle as he moved his penis to her vaginal opening. He kissed her deeply as he began to slide inside of her, ever gentle, not wanting to hurt her. She was still tight, though she had lost her virginity at such a young age. When she had accommodated herself to the size of the cock inside her, he began to pump himself in her. Her first orgasm caught them both by surprise. A second one followed quickly on the heels of that one as he began to caress and massage her lovely boobs. She bucked and thrashed as her third one rocked her body, then robbed her of consciousness as Marshall fountained inside her. He covered them both up, holding her close in instinctive protectiveness. Her eyes fluttered open sometime later.

“Hello, love.” Marshall said, kissing her fondly.

“I love you so much.” Jane sighed, snuggling close. “Thank you so much for all you’ve done for me. You opened me up to pleasure I never could have imagined.” She cooed happily as Marshall began to run his fingers through her pretty, brown hair. The future was still uncertain, but whenever Jane needed guidance, she didn’t have to look any further than her lover’s eyes.