The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Heather’s Aunt Evelyn was wealthy. How wealthy she had no idea, but she had visited Keller Manor as a child many times, with its lavish interiors and parklike grounds. And as an adult she kept an eye out for the scattered news stories that mentioned her aunt’s name in some big business deal or charity benefit in which she had been involved.

She had never married, and always remained close to Heather’s late mother. Heather felt close to her too, even though she saw her less and less as she got older. Evelyn Keller wasn’t flashy with her money. She never let Heather’s mom feel like the “poor” sister, although Heather always found a couple of extra-special presents under the tree at Christmas.

And now she was dead.

It was a shock. Heather had cried through the short notifying phone call from someone, cried through the afternoon and cried herself to sleep that night. Although she had only seen her aunt twice in the six years since her mother died—and once received a hefty check to help pay for the rest of college which she wound up dropping out of anyway—she always felt like her aunt kept a distant, caring eye on her ... like her own mother would have.

She felt oddly nervous as she was led down the hallways of Taylor & Wessman, LLP. What did she have to be nervous about? She knew she’d just be the niece in the back of the room, surrounded by unknown relatives and streams of lawyers and business associates drooling to get a piece of her aunt’s money, happy to get a vase or painting or small stipend. Or, hopefully, something that held some personal significance between the two of them that Heather had forgotten but her aunt had not.

Instead of the large room she was expecting, she was ushered to a corner office and saw a familiar face.

“Heather! Come in!”

The woman rose from behind her desk with a warm smile, and Heather smiled back tightly as the woman reached her and took her hand into her softer one, while gently brushing away a stray bang from Heather’s face with the other.

“Hi, Mrs. Paulsen. It’s good to see you again.”

“Betsy, please, we’re old friends.” She looked at Heather with fondness and a bit of appraisal. “You look beautiful, honey. Please, sit down.”

Heather sat down in one of the two chairs facing the desk as Betsy moved back to hers. “Let’s see ... I think the last time I saw you was eight years ago. You were heading off to college.”

“That’s right.”

“It’s a shame you never finished ... and I apologize for not being the one to tell you personally, but this last week has been hectic for me. Eve’s ... your aunt’s passing was sudden, but not so sudden that she didn’t make all her arrangements ahead of time. Still, it’s kept me behind this desk every day since the funeral. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to speak to you then. You slipped out so quickly. But, I understand.”

Heather always liked Betsy. She remembered her mostly from the parties, the ones where children were invited, usually next to or nearby her aunt and mother. She was a handsome woman, probably in her early 50s like the sisters would have been, but could easily pass for 40. She was still fit and trim, accentuated by her sharply tailored teal suit. Her accessories, blonde hair and makeup were properly “lawyerish,” but also gave her an extra sense of polish and grace.

Heather craned her neck and looked around the room.

“Am I in the wrong place? Where is everyone else?”

Betsy’s hands released the small stack of file folders she had been organizing in front of her before looking up. “There is no one else, dear. It’s just you.”

She could see the look of surprise on Heather’s face and smiled again. “We’ve already had the meetings with her various business partners, bankers, investment firms. This meeting is for her personal holdings. Her will.”

“And? So...” Heather still expected 20 people to jump up from behind the couch next to her and yell, “Gotcha!”

Betsy looked sympathetic, but her eyes smiled. “There are no other family members, Heather. You are her sole heir. Of course, her business holdings are, well, very complicated, but as a shareholder and owner of various properties and companies ... we can get into that more later. But you’ll still be receiving payments—monthly, quarterly, annually—depending on the source. She has the people in place to run her companies now that she’s passed on.”

Heather heard a loud hum in her ears and blinked back the tiny sparkles around the edges of her vision. She sucked in a deep breath to fight back the urge to just .... faint.

Betsy was suddenly sitting on the edge of the desk in front of her with Heather’s hand in her lap. “Heather? Are you going to be okay?”

“Uh, yeah.” She pulled her hand back as she straightened up in her seat, focusing her eyes on the pen holder on the desk, making sure it didn’t melt into a blob.

“I know this a double-shock to you, dear. I suppose I assumed you knew you were her only family.” Betsy continued talking as she returned to her high-backed chair behind the desk. “But the important thing is your aunt has made sure you will be well taken care of. And as far as her businesses go, you can have as much or as little involvement with them as you wish.”

“How ...” Heather could hardly spit it out, but she was awake again. “... much?”

“In assets, roughly $340 million. Of course, not all of that is yours!” Betsy’s chuckle was forced, but the meaning was serious enough. “In liquid assets, your inheritance is about $22.6 million.” Betsy leaned forward and met Heather’s eyes. “And, all of her personal property.”

The rest of the meeting went by in a crazy daze for Heather. Papers to sign, with Betsy’s explanations blurring into each other, lists of properties, access codes, passwords, keys, names to remember. Heather could picture a storage warehouse filled with artifacts and boxes like something out of “Citizen Kane.”

“Now, these last two items are the most important. You are now the proud owner of Keller Manor.” Betsy handed Heather a thick envelope and felt a dozen keys slide down inside. “If you’d like, we can go there now. We should be able to get there before dark.”

The darkening, bendy two-lane road that led to the Manor was smack in the middle of the Catskills, the land of Washington Irving, the Headless Horseman and Rip Van Winkle. Heather had even gone to Ichabod Crane High School for half a year when her mother moved them closer to her sister briefly after the divorce.

“When was the last time you heard from you father?”

“Oh, about four years. I think he’s still in Hawaii. I lost complete contact with him after he remarried.”

“I see. Well, we’ll need to set up a couple of trusts for you. I have some material, a few forms. And reams of other documents you’ll need to read over the next few weeks.”

Heather watched the pink and gray settle above the hilltops as they drove along, still trying to comprehend the fact that she was suddenly a millionaire.

And all alone.

“You said there were two things.”

Betsy turned the car down a long drive cut through the heart of a thick forest—the secluded pathway toward Keller Manor.

“Yes,” Betsy said through an exhale. “Yes, it may be a bit of a shock. Another one.”

Betsy pulled in front of the grand entrance to the mansion, commenting that Heather’s days of taking the bus were over now that she had three cars plus a limo to drive back to Albany. The driver could be reached 24/7 if Heather ever wanted to show off to her girlfriends. Heather wondered, what girlfriends?

The Manor was a wondrous antique of a building, gray stone and marble. Columns and facades and large potted plants Heather couldn’t even begin to name, all in reds and whites and pinks—a feminine touch before a masculine structure. Betsy always enjoyed gazing upward at its cut-glass windows, each in a different design. But Heather’s eyes looked beyond it all, to the wide expanse of grass on its southern side. The open field where Fourth of July fireworks were shot off annually, filling the sky. Some of the most cherished memories of her youth were here.

“Before you go in, there’s something I need to tell you,” Betsy said, cautiously enough to make Heather suddenly fear the worst. Maybe it had been a bad joke all along. “There’s someone living here now. A woman. Her name is Tara.”

Heather relaxed, then smiled. “Really? Aunt Evelyn ... had a girlfriend?”

“Not exactly. She lives here. Uh, has been living here for three years.” Betsy waited for Heather’s smile to fade into curiosity. “She comes with the house.”

Heather tried to suppress a laugh before realizing Mrs. Paulsen wasn’t kidding. “What do you mean she comes with the house?”

“Yes, it’s a little hard to explain. Let me first go in and make sure we don’t ... surprise her. She’s very sweet, but Evelyn’s death has been hard on her. Understandably.”

“Sure, I’ll just walk around here a bit.”

A few minutes later, Betsy waved Heather inside. She already knew the house well, and it hadn’t changed all that much. Drawing room, sitting room, library, two dining rooms and on and on. Eight upstairs bedrooms. Heather couldn’t remember if there were eight bathrooms or 10. Maybe there were 12.

She was sitting in the Great Room, as Aunt Evelyn had called it, reading on the long center couch when Heather first saw her. She didn’t even look up from her book when Betsy gently cleared her throat to speak.

“Tara? This is Heather. Say hello to her, please.”

Tara’s head lifted and swiveled toward Heather. “Hello, Miss Heather. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Uh, same here.” Heather had barely gotten the words out when Tara returned to her book. Heather looked at Betsy with confusion. Betsy shook her head and put her hand on Heather’s arm.

“Tara, we’ll be back in a moment. I’m going to show Heather around the house.”

“Yes, Miss Betsy.”

Tara’s tone and body movement were exactly the same in reply, and Heather initially got the feeling the young woman was in a drug-induced stupor. She was about her age, with very short dark hair and eyes that could have been either green or blue if there was even a trace of light in them. She had fashion-model looks that didn’t scream beautiful—more like eye-catching—even in the loose gray sweatpants and yellow T-shirt she was wearing. The same distant, looking-through-you manner as someone on stage trying to act unaware of other eyes looking back.

In the foyer, Betsy took Heather’s hand and led her into Evelyn’s office, quickly sitting down side by side on the leather couch before the large bay window.

“What the—”

Betsy raised her hand. “I know. I have some explaining to do. Tara had a very troubled and abusive past. Evelyn met her at one of the ... facilities she donated to. They became friends. So, when Tara was released, she came to live here. Eve wanted to do something for her, to help her. But she quickly realized that Tara’s troubles ran very deep. She was never going to be rid of them, even in a loving and caring environment.

“So ... she maximized her resources and ... oh, dear, how to say this ...”

Betsy took another deep breath, and Heather found her hand clutching Betsy’s.

“She had her brainwashed.”

“What?? Are you kidding me!”

“Please, dear, keep your voice down. This is difficult enough.”

“My aunt had that woman brainwashed? She brainwashed her to become her girlfriend?”

“No, dear,” Betsy said softly. “She brainwashed her to be her slave.”

Heather’s jaw dropped. Her aunt. Her loving aunt was a demented nutjob. “What? Aunt Evelyn? Why ... would she do such a thing?”

Betsy put her other hand over Heather’s and squeezed tightly. “There was no coercion. Tara asked if it was possible. She volunteered. Papers were signed. I was a witness. Tara had her complete faculties when she agreed to it. It was the only way ... the only way to give her peace. She wanted it, Heather.”

“She wanted to be a slave?”

“She wanted ... to obey and serve Evelyn.”

Gulp.

After a long moment, Heather semi-relaxed. At least physically. Her thoughts were mush. She couldn’t help but frowned.

“But, as you can see, without Evelyn around, Tara doesn’t have anyone. I’m afraid for her. Her condition is permanent. I wouldn’t have any choice but to have her institutionalized again, most likely for good. She cannot function outside of this house without ... supervision.”

“So, you want me ...” Heather couldn’t believe what she was saying. “You want me to take her place. And keep Tara as my slave?”

“She’s really a sweet girl. And you’re the same age. You can train her to be anything you wish, as far as it goes. She’s always going to be rather ... single-minded, if you know what I mean. But she can be very good company for you. I know ... your aunt knew how alone you’ve been.”

Heather sighed. How many more shocks could she take today. But she also saw the sadness and the hope on Betsy’s face.

“Okay ... I’ll try. But if it doesn’t work out ...”

“I understand. But, please, give it a chance. Tara isn’t suffering, honey. Deep, deep inside, she is very happy. Maybe for the only time in her life. But Evelyn is gone. She needs you.”

Heather waited at the door as Betsy said her good-byes to Tara, noticing from across the foyer the soft kiss she gave to her forehead before rejoining her.

“The firm has gotten me a motel room nearby, and I can stay there for a few days if you’d like. I should be a little less busy over the next week or so, so don’t hesitate to call me. For anything.”

Heather slapped her head. “Work! What am I going to do about work? Commute 90 minutes every day?”

Betsy laughed, and it surprised Heather for a moment. “Heather, honey, you’ve just inherited $22 million. I think you can afford to quit your waitressing job.”

“Actually, I am the assistant manager at the best restaurant in the city. But ... you’re right. And I have my pick of cars to get there. I may even call up that chauffeur and have me limoed to work every day for my last two weeks.”

“That’s the spirit,” Betsy said with a pat on her arm. She leaned over and pecked Heather’s cheek. “Call me if you need anything. Oh, and there’s a red binder by bedside table with instructions, tips, do’s and dont’s regarding Tara. I would suggest you read that first.”

Heather entered the Great Room on tip-toes, as if worried she’d wake Tara up, although the woman continued to stare at the pages in the book in her hands.

She tried to keep her voice as light and cheerful as she could. “Can I get you anything, Tara?”

Again, the robotic swivel. “No, thank you, Miss Heather.”

“You know, you don’t have to ...” Heather trailed off. She didn’t feel comfortable giving orders, not yet, no matter how innocuous. She leaned forward slightly. “Whatcha reading?”

“One of my lessons, Miss.”

“Oh! Are you taking classes? Maybe online?”

“No, Miss. Not classes. My lessons. Miss Evelyn had me read a different one every evening.”

Heather sat down on one of the other couches adjacent to Tara, trying to smile, but felt so out of sorts that her lips wiggled uncertainly up and down. She couldn’t help but notice Tara’s stiffened nipples beneath her top. “Ah. Okay ... Hey, do you watch TV?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Well, why don’t you put your book away and we’ll watch something together. Do you have...”

Tara stood up and placed the thin volume next to a row of similar books on a shelf by the fireplace. Heather was riveted. Angular, sleek, flawless. If nothing else, her aunt had knockout taste. Tara retraced her steps fluidly and sat down as before.

Heather fumbled with the remote, hitting buttons. “Not sure how this thing works...”

“It would be my pleasure to help you, Miss.”

“Thanks. But ... I think I got it.” The 72-inch screen popped on and Heather finally sat back and tried to relax. “Tara, do you have a favorite show?”

Heather could see Tara trying to think of an answer, the slight bend of an eyebrow, her lips parting but soundless. Then, “No, Miss. I watched what Miss Evelyn put on for me.”

“Ah. Gotcha.” Heather sighed again as she flipped channels. This was going to be harder than she thought. She decided that the best thing to do was just be cool, watch some TV and try to keep her head from exploding.

One hour and two bad sitcoms later, the first yawns of bedtime hit Heather. It had been a long day.

“I’m going to turn this off now, Tara. Did you enjoy the shows?”

“Yes, Miss. They were very funny.”

Heather brightened. “Oh, great! You liked them. Why didn’t you laugh?” Again, there was a trace of uncertainty beneath Tara’s richly tanned face. “Wait, it’s okay. Maybe next time we watch something funny, you can laugh. You do like to laugh, don’t you?”

“Yes, Miss. I laugh. Miss Evelyn made me laugh.”

Heather wasn’t sure how to take that. Made her laugh or MADE her laugh.

“Well, I think it’s about time for bed. Umm, where do you usually sleep?” Stupid question. Heather already knew the answer.

“I usually sleep in Miss Evelyn’s bed. I have been ... since she ... has been gone.”

The unseen pain made Heather grimace. She knew it was there, even if the woman’s expression hadn’t changed. “Okay, well why don’t you get ready for bed and then you can sleep in Miss Evelyn’s bed. Okay?”

“Yes, Miss. Thank you, Miss.” Tara stood and moved toward the door before pivoting to face Heather. “What else may I do for you, Miss.”

“I’m good. Go ahead. I’ll ... figure something out. Hey, there are seven other bedrooms here, right?”

“Yes, Miss.” Tara flowed out of the room, and Heather couldn’t help but watch her ass swing, rhythmic, enticing ... she blurted out a short laugh, catching herself staring. She had never been intimate with another woman, certainly not one who couldn’t say no. But the thought was there, there was no denying it.

Heather was lying on the bed in one of the guest rooms an hour later in a pair of pajamas she found in the Master while Tara showered. They fit her perfectly. Betsy planned ahead. She was still running the day’s insane events over and over in her head when she noticed Tara standing in the open doorway, naked.

Wow. Heather nearly came on the spot. And she knew the reason. Tara’s breasts were p-e-r-f-e-c-t. Full and firm, every curve where it belonged. Heather’s eyes floated downward to her tapered waist and finishing at the bare, inviting slit. Wow.

“Uh ... something wrong, Tara?”

“Miss, have I displeased you?”

Heather jumped off the bed. “No! No, not at all. We’re good. Why would you ask that?”

“I don’t understand. You should be in Miss Evelyn’s bed. You are my Miss.”

You are my Miss. The reality—the reality!—she had been trying to avoid all night hit Heather hard. She tried to smile as she nodded. “You’re right, Tara. Lead the way.“

They slid into the bed together, although Heather kept flat on her back. Tara curled next to her, touching Heather with warmth at the thigh, the shoulder. Her hand rested on Heather’s stomach, and she could see even in the soft glow of the moon the goosebumps rising there. The involuntary wetness between her own legs.

Heather was too nervous to think of sleep, instead focusing on Tara’s breathing. Slow and relaxed. Even. She had fallen asleep immediately. The hundredth sigh escaped Heather’s lips even as she longed for rest. Now, she couldn’t even if she tried. She looked at the beautiful, naked young woman in the moonlight. Her own slave...

She looked so peaceful. She envied Tara’s content breathing beside her. Deep in and deep out. Into the ease of restful sleep.

“How are you doing, honey? Is everything all right?”

Betsy’s voice had a tinge of concern over the phone. Heather smiled into it.

“Yeah. Tara made me breakfast. She even drew me a bath. Haha! Drew me a bath! Like I ever thought I’d say that! But we’re good, now that she’s sorta gotten out of robot-mode. Tryin’ to get her to loosen up a little. I was worried she was always going to be like that.”

“Well, we had to do that, Heather. She needed to be. I’ve only been able to check on her twice a day, so the less she was able to do and ... think, the better it was for her to cope. But now that you’re there, giving her instructions, she should be more ... adaptable.”

Heather couldn’t keep her eyes off Tara as she cleared the remains of breakfast, washing, cleaning in a simple yet revealing dress.

“Oh, and thanks for the clothes. But I need to get my stuff out of my apartment.”

“I’ve already made the arrangements with a mover. All your belongings should be there this afternoon. Your landlord has been paid.”

“Oh. Great. Thank you. That was easy.”

Betsy laughed softly over the phone. “You should be getting some mail delivered too. A few more surprises. And have you had a chance to look at the binder by your bed yet?”

“No, no I haven’t but I will today. I don’t have to be in until four. I was just going to hang here. Get Tara use to having me around.”

Heather had been up all night thinking, with a million questions. But only one came to mind. “Betsy? Can I ask you ... why didn’t you just take Tara? You know, she knows you.”

There was a long pause, then, “I ... I can’t, honey. I don’t own her. You do.”

Tara walked up to Heather as she hung up, less robotic, but still expressionless.

“Miss Heather, may I use the bathroom now?”

“Well, of ..” Heather paused, looking at her “slave” unable to do the most basic functions on her own now that she was back under the control of an owner. It made Heather a little sad, but also a little curious. Tara didn’t have to concern herself with the stresses of the day—bills to pay, figuring out how to stretch a paycheck, counting calories, wondering if she was ever going get asked out on a date again—just simple commands to follow, tasks to perform.

“Yes, Tara, you may. And from now on, if you need to go, just go. If you get hungry, you just eat. Okay? And after that, we’re going to go through your closet. You have a closet with all of your stuff, right?”

The guest room next to the Master served as Tara’s private bedroom. It had two huge walk-in closets filled with clothes, shoes, jewelry, wigs and boxes upon boxes—neatly stacked—of makeup and perfume. And ... enough fetishwear and sex toys to open a small adult boutique.

If Heather hadn’t realized it before, she knew it now. Tara’s primary function as a slave was sex.

Uh, boy ...

But she also began to relax and have fun with Tara as they matched different outfits together, getting Tara to model something cute or sexy or trying on a few racy things herself, although Heather’s compact body was no match for Tara’s tall, shapely one. If Tara was her new, shiny toy, then Heather—as she looked at herself in the full-length mirror—was the slightly irregular one from the bargain bin.

She never considered herself overly attractive, but she knew she wasn’t too bad to look at either. And she was thrilled to receive the constant stream of compliments, even if she couldn’t be sure if they were genuine or merely a slave giving adoration to her owner. But as she twirled in one of the few evening dresses of Tara’s that actually fit, she caught herself smiling at her reflection.

And, more than that, she saw Tara smiling at her too.