The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

He’d bought the house for a song, compared to its actual value. After all the renovations, bringing the old Seville manor up to code and updating things like the kitchen and bathrooms, the property was worth just under a million dollars (far enough under that he could make some improvements without having to pay the state mansion tax), yet he’d bought it for a mere hundred thousand. Apparently, the few surviving relatives of the former owner wanted nothing to do with his legacy, making it easy to bring the price down, even though a million dollars was well within his budget, after the cash settlement he’d received from his father’s company—out of their fear that he’d hold them culpable for his father’s stress-related stroke shortly after they’d bought him out.

Hal and some of his contractors were toasting the completion of the work when something silenced them: a sound, like someone crying. Hal was the first to notice, but the hairs on the backs of the contractors’ necks began to stand up as the room quieted. Hal investigated the sounds, and was able to narrow it down to the bookshelf in the hallway. Even after they removed all the books, the huge oaken shelf was heavy, and offered few handholds. Hal elected to disassemble it, and move it out in pieces. He discovered a hidden panel behind the wall, which opened on a shallow niche of shoddy masonry. The crying was louder now, and Hal had the men break the wall down.

It came down easily, and a few minutes’ work revealed an old, locked door. Hal knocked off the rusty handle and easily opened the door, which revealed a very spare and spartan room. There was a single cot, a poorly-made lamp, and a small closet with a chair propped under the door. Hal moved the chair and set it near the bed.

“You...probably don’t wanna see this.” said the head contractor, who had moved between Hal and the closet. Someone else opened the door, and the crying stopped.

“Madre Dios!” someone exclaimed. No one would let Hal near the closet, so he instead went upstairs to call a CSI and a priest.

“Well?” he asked, once the authorities had been down and come back.

“We estimate that she’s been dead for at least one hundred years.” said the CSI.

“Who?”

“They didn’t show you?” When Hal shook his head, the CSI nodded. “The bones are female. We’ve found what appear to be the remains of a maid’s uniform. She...she was alive when she was locked in. She tried to scratch her way out at some point.”

“One hundred years...you think she was left there by Amilio Seville?” Hal asked.

“Well, he would be the obvious suspect.” the CSI said. “Especially since he lived alone, except for one servant who, according to family records, was a beautiful female who spoke little English.”

Hal stood brooding in the hall long after everyone had left. He carefully averted his eyes from the covered stretcher carrying the bones of the unfortunate maid. He stared into the hallway mirror. The gaping maw of the destroyed wall, and the swinging door behind it, was clearly visible. Something moved. Hal whirled to face the shape, but there was nothing there. When he turned back to the mirror, he saw a frail girl of no more than twenty, in a tattered maid’s uniform, picking her weak and weary way over the pile of bricks. He could actually hear them clattering behind him. She clutched an old, ratty feather duster in one trembling hand. When she was past the obstacles, she looked up and wiped the tears from her eyes. Hal saw her smile before her image, almost transparent to begin with, faded completely from sight. He thought he saw her mouth something before she disappeared.

“’Mercy?’” he muttered. “No, ‘merci.’ ‘Thank you?’” He didn’t know much about the spirit world, but shouldn’t she have been able to leave the closet as soon as she died? Unless, of course, she didn’t KNOW she could get out...

Hal spent the rest of October re-doing the house, with the help of some Feng Shui practitioners. He made more space by having some of the non-load-bearing walls knocked out on the ground floor, enlarged the windows, and brought in plants. In the maid’s room, he installed a sliding patio door, which also gave him the chance to move out the cot and replace it with a gorgeous canopy bed. He ran electric lights into the room, and added plants and curtains, and replaced the door at the entrance, and the closet door, which he never left closed.

“Well, that’s the best we can do without turning the whole house sideways.” said one of the decorators around Thanksgiving. Hal nodded and paid the workers generously, and gave them a good meal before sending them on their way.

Over the next few weeks, Hal began to notice strange things as he began the slow process of moving in. Nothing malicious, just strange. Such as finding the plants already watered when he went to water them, or messes that mysteriously cleaned themselves when he wasn’t looking. One day, in mid-December, as he was finishing the installation of his computer, he caught sight of the maid again, reflected in the monitor. She was dusting his printer table with her ratty feather duster. She saw him watching her and smiled before fading away again.

He wondered about the ghostly maid. She didn’t seem sad or vengeful like the ghosts he’d read about, so he supposed it was safe to go ahead and start making preparations for his public Christmas party. There was a perfect 30-foot cedar in the back yard he could decorate without destroying it. He put up a 50-foot tent to keep out the wind, and made arrangements with caterers, DJs, police, EMS and the fire department for safety, and several retailers to provide gifts. He posted open invitations where they would be seen by those who worked hard for little money.

On the morning of Christmas Eve, the presents began arriving. Once they had learned what he was doing, many of the retailers were more than happy to donate—which was just fine by Hal. The presents were color-coded, red boxes for males, green for females. The adults’ presents were tied with ribbons of the opposite gender’s color. The children all had white ribbons. Hal had instructed his accountant to sell any leftover gifts on eBay and donate the proceeds to the local elementary school. One set of presents he took aside. Wrapped in white paper with white ribbon, as per his instructions, they were placed under a smaller tree in the maid’s room. He felt a little silly, but it seemed like the thing to do since it was obvious she was sticking around.

Leia shivered as she walked up the steps to her apartment. It was bad enough losing her job because her boss couldn’t afford to rebuild the front end that somebody had driven a truck through to steal the ATM, but now her upstairs neighbors had stopped up the building’s plumbing, so she had to go to the corner store in the middle of winter just to use the restroom.

She put her key in the lock, but it wouldn’t turn. “What the hell?” she said, looking down. All the old familiar scratches were gone, replaced by the pristine purity of a brand-new doorknob. She stormed into the landlord’s office, but he was in no mood to hear her complaints. The short version of the conversation was that she’d been without a job for two months, and he hadn’t gotten any of the money from the sale of her car, her television or her stereo, so he had no reason to believe that there was any financial benefit to himself to let her stay any longer, especially since he would be able to charge three times as much to the next renters after he’d repaired the damage from the back-up, and any personal effects still in the apartment would be sold on eBay to be put toward what she owed. She had some suggestions that left a lot to be desired in the area of anatomic feasibility. He told her to be gone before the cops arrived. The bastard didn’t even let her go in to get her ID out of her purse. She decided it was best to leave before he thought of frisking her for any money she might be carrying.

Homeless...I’m homeless! echoed in her mind as Leia wandered aimlessly along the sidewalk. This had always been something she’d heard talked about, but had never thought she’d experience. The first pangs of hunger began to gnaw at her. She fished in her pockets, and found a scant handful of change. It was barely enough for a candy bar. Food, however, was food, so she went into the first convenience store she saw. She had miscalculated the tax, and was saved only by the penny tray on the counter. Ignoring the looks she imagined she was getting from everybody else, she took her Snickers and left.

She’d only taken a couple of bites when a man wearing a coat that smelled like a dog blanket grabbed it away from her. She ran away before he could decide that he wanted something else as well, and when she figured she was far enough away, she leaned against the wall of a building and started to cry.

Whatever I did to deserve this, I’m sorry! she thought desperately to any deity that cared to listen. When she was approached by a uniformed police officer, she wiped her eyes as best she could and walked on, not willing to risk being taken in for loitering. As she trudged listlessly through the windy streets, a numbness and cold that had nothing to do with the weather settled over her. She drifted without destination, seeing the world in drab gray like some old movie, and feeling little more than hopelessness and despair. She didn’t realize how far she’d gone until she stumbled over her own exhausted feet. She picked herself up and looked around, not recognizing the environs. She had no idea when it had started snowing, but the snow was almost three inches deep now. Somehow she’d passed the city limits without realizing it, and the only dwelling in evidence was some venerable old manor, not exactly Wayne Manor, but a manor nonetheless. It was as good a direction as any. She forced her rubbery legs to move as darkness descended on the world.

There was some sort of party going on. A bus full of kids pulled up, disgorged its load, and was parked across from the fire trucks. She met no challenge from the officers at the stairs; in fact, one of them even helped her up. The warmth from inside the house was like a sauna compared to the outside. She surrendered her coat to the man in the red monkey-suit and staggered inside. A woman ushered her to a table where a soup buffet had been set up, helped her ladel out some clam chowder and then planted her in a chair. The woman said something, but Leia didn’t understand French, and the woman’s English was poor. Leia could have sworn she could see through the woman, but wrote it off as a figment of her imagination. The warmth of the chowder reminded her body just how cold it was, and she started shivering again. Her bowl was refilled twice, and she was given brandy. This restored some of her strength, and she was able to get to another table where more substantial foods were on offer. The French woman helped her keep the plate balanced as she returned to her seat. The food was delicious, and there was no shortage. Comfortably full, she got up to look for a restroom. She overshot, coming out the back door where a temporary covered walkway led out into a giant tent where people were dancing around a huge Christmas tree near the center. Around the tree, presents were being handed out to men, women and children alike, though there seemed to be some color coding going on. Leia headed back into the house, this time managing to find the downstairs bathroom. After doing her business, she cleaned up and staggered out, more tipsy than she’d known.

Too much brandy. she thought as she nearly knocked down the door of a small room lit only by the lights of a three-foot Christmas tree. She bypassed the presents and tumbled exhaustedly into bed, kicking the shoes off of her screaming feet. All I want for Christmas is to be somebody else. she thought as she buried her face in the pillow.

Hal was impressed. Things were going rather well—although it partially owed to the fact that Hal owned nothing all that expensive that could be concealed under clothing, and the armed off-duty police officers standing guard outside served as a deterrent for more obvious forms of theft. Sleepy-eyed children were filed out to the bus at ten, except for the ones who had to be carried out. The grown-ups continued to revel for a further two hours before it was mutually decided that the time had come to leave. Hal did a cursory search of the house to make sure no one was lurking in closets or crawl-spaces. A young couple lay in one of the guest bedrooms, a McDonald’s uniform cap hanging on the footboard’s decor next to a Wal-Mart vest. The boy, perhaps seventeen, had curled one arm protectively around the girl, aged perhaps sixteen, who lay cuddled in his arms with one shapely breast visible in the glittering moonlight. As Hal turned on the space heater in the room, the boy woke up, but the girl continued her soft snoring, oblivious. Hal closed the door and mimed tipping a hat on his way out. No one else met his inspection until he came to the maid’s room.

The ghostly maid was tucking someone into bed, stroking long, feminine hair affectionately. She took off the young woman’s glasses and laid them on the nightstand. Then, she seated herself in the chair, watching her sleep.

He remembered the one time a burglar had tried to break into the house. Hal had come down, baseball bat in hand, only to find the burglar cowering in a corner, covered in scratches like those that usually came from a woman’s fingernails, as the image of the angry maid flew around the parlor like an enraged guard dog.

Now, her smile told Hal she wouldn’t let anything bad happen. Hal left her to her vigil, then, picking up the first aid kit from the floor, and only then noticing the bandaged feet peeking out from under the covers. On his way back upstairs, he passed the couple from before. He was pleased to note that they had changed the linens, turned off the space heater and remade the bed.

“Merry Christmas.” said the young man.

“Merry Christmas.” said Hal. They took their coats out of the hall closet and left happily. Hal returned the first aid kit to its place and called the officers in. After serving them with some still-warm stew, he sent each home with a bottle of cognac, brandy, champagne or cider, their choice, as a bonus for their help. The caterers followed his instructions to take the remaining food to the local homeless shelter to be dispensed there. It was guaranteed to be better than the Krusty-brand immitation gruel they usually served there. Once everything was in order, he locked up and went to bed.

At five-thirty in the morning, he heard his door open. Prying open one sleepy eye, he caught sight of a girl in a maid’s uniform stepping gingerly across the carpet. ”Monsieur?“ her voice whispered. ”Dormez-vous?“

“Hmm?” Hal asked. He managed to open his eyes fully—and saw the girl from the maid’s room, dressed in the outfit he’d purchased for the ghost. He was about to speak when she gently placed her finger on his lips.

“I...My English, not so good. I want to say, merci boucoup, for everysing.” She leaned down and kissed Hal gently. There was a gasp, and a moan, and soon the gentle kiss became something more. Hal heard her shoes landing on the floor as she slid into bed with him. Piece by piece, the maid’s outfit joined the shoes on the floor, followed by Hal’s pajamas and boxers. Her hand touched his erect penis. She trembled, from nervousness or desire he couldn’t tell which, and held the hot, stiff rod until she could guide herself onto him. Her hymen offered resistance, but she raised her hips up, and then brought herself down, impaling herself on him. Then she leaned down and began to kiss him as her legs wrapped around his.

“Is this really what you want?”

“Oui, monsieur.“

“Okay.” he said, rolling over so that he was on top of her. Her hips moved in tandem with his, matching his rhythm as he moved into and out of her. Her moans and cries of pleasure were muffled by his mouth on hers. She stiffened, arching her back as she rode out an orgasm, which caused her vaginal muscles to squeeze his penis just enough to set him off. The feeling of his semen gushing inside her seemed to enhance her orgasm already in progress. They cuddled, basking in the afterglow, while she whispered sweet-sounding sentences in French, before at last sighing and drifting into sleep. Hal decided that was a darn good idea, and soon joined her.

The next morning, Hal was awakened by the smell of cooking food. He put his pajama bottoms back on and stepped into his slippers, then went down to the kitchen. The girl was there, once again wearing the maid’s uniform, sitting on a stool as she fried eggs and bacon in the skillet. The shoes were set aside, her bandaged feet being held slightly away from the stool. She turned her head and smiled at him with a twinkle in her green eyes.

“Bonjour, monsieur.“

“Uh, bonjour.“ he replied. She used a spatula to put the food on two plates. Hal took both to the breakfast island, then slid the girl, stool and all, to the spot in front of one of the plates. He put the ingredients away and brought a pair of forks and a pair of knives with him when he returned. The girl seemed to be trying to say something, but was struggling with a limited English vocabulary.

“Wait...” she said. She looked at him, blinked twice, and her eyes changed from green to hazel.

“Huh?” was all Hal managed.

“Sorry, it’s just easier if I do this.” the girl said. Her voice was completely different, and it wasn’t just the lack of accent. “I...we...” She shook her head, her hair fluttering fetchingly as she did so. “Last night, I was...lost. Alone. Jobless. Newly homeless. I...I had hit rock bottom. I literally had nothing but the clothes on my back. I walked all day, just wandering. I guess you could say I was devastated. I ended up at your party, got some food in me, and went to bed. All I really wanted was...was to be someone else. I guess...I guess she heard me. She came, bandaged my feet, and spoke to me. She was speaking French, but somehow I understood. I don’t know how, I just did. When she asked if I really wanted this, I said yes. Then, I felt her...inside me. I honestly wasn’t sure...if I was me...or...if I was her. Maybe I was both. I...we...opened the nice present you left her. The dress was so beautiful, of course we tried it on. It was a little snug up top, but we didn’t mind. We had to go thank you.”

“Well, at least one of you sure knew how to do it.” Hal said with a smile. The girl blushed.

“Why can’t I ever find nice guys like you by myself?” she joked. “Well, I’m a big girl, I can share...that is, if you’ll have us.” Two blinks, and the eyes became green again.

“Puis-je être le vôtre?“ she asked. ”S’il vous plaît? Je t’aime.“ Hal’s hand touched hers. She squeezed it. A tear leaked out of one green eye.

Marie and Leia were both as happy as could be as Hal carried them over the threshold. Sharing one body between them occasionally had its advantages, and this was one of them. Hal had an actor friend who was able to get into the part of an evil, predatory lawyer to frighten Leia’s ex-landlord into releasing her personal documents—driver’s license, social security card, etc. It wasn’t that Hal was cheap or anything, it was just that he didn’t want any more money than necessary appearing in the pockets of an actual, evil, predatory lawyer. He kicked the door closed behind them and carried them all the way to the bedroom. Leia’s feet were long-since healed of course, but Hal was being romantic. He set his blushing brides gently onto the bed, unlaced the ComforTread walking shoes (hidden prior to this by the long-white wedding gown) and set them on the floor. He kissed their warm, soft lips and asked if there was anything they wanted.

“You.” Leia said with a smile. With some effort, they managed to wriggle out of the dress, leaving it in a white, lacy pile on the floor. They undressed Hal quickly and drew him into their shared arms.

“Je t’aime.“ Marie whispered in Hal’s left ear.

“I love you, too.” Leia whispered in his right one.