The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Judge... Not

by J. Darksong

“Excuse me? Hey! EXCUSE ME!!”

Jack turned, glancing back, then down at the lovely young brunette glaring up at him. She was short, only about five foot four, with green eyes and dark curly brown hair framing what would have been a truly angelic face were it not for the scowl. She was dressed smartly in a white silk blouse and black pants that ended in a pair of black flats. “Hmm? Sorry,” he said apologetically, pausing his iPod and taking out his earphones. “I didn’t hear you. What can I do for you?”

The woman continued to glare. “Well, that’s a start. Your damned music is turned up so loud that everyone in this building can probably hear it! What are you, deaf, or something?”

Jack frowned. “Well, actually, I do have nerve damage in one ear that makes me hard of hearing—”

“Um, don’t care,” the bitchy woman said, rolling her eyes. “This is a public elevator, alright? I shouldn’t have to put up with your noise while I’m forced to stand here next to you.”

Jack bristled. The woman’s attitude was straining his very last nerve. His day had started off crappy and swiftly gone downhill from there. The thunderstorm the night before had knocked out the power for the entire block while he was sleeping; he’d awoken to the feeling of a fully risen sun shining on his face instead of the familiar whine of his alarm clock. Running late, he’d skipped breakfast, intent on making up the time, only cause another delay when he backed his car into his mailbox, knocking it over. Arriving at work, he’d found his parking spot filled, forcing him to park on the side of the road a block away; trudging carefully through the half-melted snow and slush, he’d nearly made it back to the main building when a passing drive going through a puddle splashed him. Finally, after several hours at work, he’d returned to his car to find a parking ticket slapped against the side of his windshield, despite the parking pass the company provided their employees.

Gritting his teeth, Jack closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, counting to ten. Just relax, Jack. Yeah, she’s rude... but it’s not her fault you’re having a really shitty day. Just let it go. She’d probably having a bad day too.

The elevator doors opened moments later. The woman pushed past him, muttering softly. Breathing an audible sigh, Jack stepped out as well, glancing up at the directory. Finding the room for traffic court, he spoke to the clerk, signed in, and took a seat near the front. He’d just settled in when the chambers door opened and the bailiff ordered everyone to their feet.

“All rise! Court is now in session,” the bailiff announced loudly. “The Honorable Judge Patricia L. Mayweather, presiding.”

As the judge made her way to the bench, Jack let out a soft groan, seeing the bitchy woman from the elevator dressed up in her judicial robes. Glancing up, her eyes met Jack’s, jade green meeting ice blue, and a smirk twisted her lips. She gestured for everyone to sit, keeping her eyes on Jack.

“Bailiff, call your first case.”

“Yes, Your Honor. The City of Pendleton versus Jackson Delvers. Parking violation,” he said, handing her the file. Sighing inwardly, Jack made his way to the bench. Judge Mayweather glanced briefly at the file, nodding as she read. Finally, she put it down.

“So, Mr. Delvers, what bring you here this evening? I take it you wish to contest the ticket?”

“Yes, I do. You see, I have a—”

“Your Honor.” the Judge spoke loudly.

Jack blinked. “Excuse me?”

“’Yes I do, Your Honor’, Mr. Delvers. I assume that’s what you meant to say.”

Biting his lip, clenching and unclenching his hands, he nodded. “Yes. Sorry... your Honor. As I was saying, I have a parking pass.” Taking it from his pocket, he handed it to her. “Everyone that works at the company is issued one.”

“I see,” she replied dismissively, handing it back. “And did you have your parking pass displayed in your vehicle at the time you received the ticket?”

“Yes, Your Honor. It hung from neck of my rear view mirror above the dashboard.”

“Then why was it that the officer was unable to find it when he checked your car?” she asked, tapping the file folder in her hand. “The officer’s report clearly states that there was no such permit openly displayed in the vehicle when he checked it. Are you being truthful with me, Mr. Delvers?”

Easy now. Reign in your temper. She’s just doing her job. It’s not personal. “Yes, I am, Your Honor. I have the proof right here, the permit—”

“Just because you have a parking permit, Mr. Delvers, doesn’t necessarily mean you had it in your car at the time you were ticketed,” the judge cut in. “I find it very hard to believe that a police officer would lie about something like this. Are you calling Officer Jennings a liar?”

“What? I... no! I’m not calling him a liar!” Jack said, becoming noticeably flustered. “I’m just saying that he must not have seen it—”

“So, you’re saying that Officer Jennings is blind, then?” Judge Mayweather replied cattily. “Let me assure you, Mr. Delvers, that while the City does employee its fair share of handicapped personnel, we do NOT currently employ the blind for traffic duty.”

A smattering of chuckling laughter sounded from the rest of the court, causing Jack’s face to redden. He was beginning to lose his tenuous grip on his temper when the judge spoke once more, stomping on his very last frayed nerve. He gritted his teeth, hoping against hope, pleading silently for her not to push him any further. Just let me pay the damned ticket now and call it a day! Unfortunately, the judge wasn’t quite done.

“I supposed you came here to contest this ticket,” she said imperiously, ignoring the looks he was giving her, “no doubt hoping that I’d simply overturn it, in the interest of speeding things along. Well, I hate to disappoint you, Mr. Delvers, but even though tonight’s docket if rather full, I take each and every case before me quite seriously.”

Jack’s blood began to boil. “Yes. Of course you do.” He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to push back the anger threatening to overwhelm his control...

“A parking violation may seem trivial to someone like you...”

Continuing to build and build...

“...but the law is the law...”

Becoming an all-consuming rage.

“...and I assure you, I take them all very seriously...”

Implacable. Unyielding.

“Mr. Delvers! Do you HEAR ME, Mr. Delvers?!?”

With an extreme effort of will, Jack held back the rushing tide, regaining control. Taking a deep cleansing breath, he nodded. “Sorry.. your Honor. I’m... paying attention. Go on. Please.”

“Ahem. Now then... in the matter of your parking ticket, Mister Delvers,” she continued, staring directly into his eyes, “it’s the decision of this court that the ticket stands. You will pay the full value of the ticket, plus an additional hundred dollars for court costs. Next case.” She slammed her gavel down onto the wooden stand, then turned to the bailiff.

“A hundred dollars?” Jack exclaimed. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Judge Mayweather scowled, banging her gavel again. “I said, next case. Please see the clerk on your way out, Mr. Delvers, you’re holding up my court.”

Jack laughed. “Me? Holding YOU up? YOU’RE the one that’s holding ME up! A hundred and thirty-five dollar parking ticket is highway robbery!”

Murmurs sounded from the onlookers, and Patricia, growing angry at the disruption, banged her gavel several times to regain order. “Mr. Delvers, that is enough! One more outburst from you, and I’ll hold you in contempt of court!”

The anger, held in check by the tiniest of threads, came back with a vengeance. In a low deep voice, he growled back. “That, madam, would be mutual.”

“Fine. Mr. Delvers, I hereby find you in contempt of court. Bailiff, please take... take... ttt... aaa...” her voice trailing off as she locked gazes on Jack’s eyes, shining a bright shade of amber. A wave of glistening heat seemed to envelop the court room, and gravity seemed to increase around her on an epic scale, feeling as if the very air around her weighed a thousand tons. As if she were about to be crushed underneath an invisible weight.

“Gaaahhhhhh...” Judge Mayweather gasped, trying to speak, as even the act of breathing seemed to drain her strength. She tried to look away, tried to avert her gaze to the floor, the ceiling... anywhere else but the magnetic inferno of Jack Delver’s eyes. Those eyes... swirling, molten pools of amber, pulling at her, drawing her mind, her thoughts, her very soul into their hot burning depths... scalding... searing... scorching her to her very core.

She couldn’t think. Couldn’t move. She could barely breath. Sweat ran down her too slick body like raindrops, her clothing sticky, clinging to her flesh underneath her robes. She felt flushed, hot, inside and out. Between her thighs. Her heart raced even as her ability to think slowed to a standstill. So hot. So FUCKING hot. Burning. Inside and out. A fire burned inside her, devouring her from the inside out. She felt it, felt it inside her chest, between her thighs, inside her mind... threatening to burn away everything and consume her completely.

Jack continued to glare at her, all the anger and rage he’d been holding back all day released at her in one sweltering, penetrating glare. He knew all too well what his gaze could do, but at this point he didn’t care. He’d held back as long as he could, but she’d provoked him. A man could only endure so much suffering. Now it was her turn to suffer. He held her there, pinned by his gaze for a few seconds, though to her it would seem an eternity, easily long enough to melt her, and mold her into whatever he wished. Then, mercifully, he released her.

He blinked.

Judge Patricia Mayweather gasped, feeling as if she’d just emerged from underneath a pool of very hot water. She glanced around, feeling as if the entire world had just tilted beneath her feet. A sound called out from her left side, and it took several seconds before she understood that her bailiff was speaking to her.

“Judge Mayweather? Are you alright?”

“Oh my... whew... yes, yes...” she muttered, the strange experience already fading from her memory. “I’m sorry, just felt a little... dizzy there for a moment.” Taking a sip from her glass of water, she continued. “I’m fine George, really. Just take Mr... Delvers there away... and let’s continue on. We have a full load tonight after all.”

George Trask nodded slowly, shrugging, then turned, leading Jack out of the courtroom towards the holding cell. He glanced back at her over his shoulder as they reached the door, but despite the momentary lapse, the judge seemed perfectly fine. Yet, strangely enough, his prisoner seemed to be smiling.

* * *

Judge Mayweather was having a really bad day.

“Judge Mayweather?” Bailiff Trask prompted again. Patricia frowned, glancing down at him.

“Yes, George, what is it now?”

“Um, your Honor, I believe everyone is waiting on the verdict.”

Damn. Woolgathering again. What the hell is wrong with me tonight? Aloud, she said, “Oh, yes, um... the court rules in favor of the planter... um, I mean the plaintiff! Yes... the plaintiff.” She banged her gavel, then sighed deeply. “Okay, everyone, that’s lunch. Court will reconv... recon...” She growled softly in frustration. “Court will begin again in half an hour.” With that, she rose up and stepped down from her seat.

Once safely inside her chambers, she quickly shucked out of her robes, tossing them onto the couch. Standing next to a vent, she began fanning herself. Damn. I am so fucking hot... almost feverish. My clothes are practically soaked through with sweat. I wonder if I’m coming down with something? She opened her blouse a little, letting the breeze travel up and between her breasts. Her nipples peaked with the slight chill... or were they already hard? Feeling slightly naughty, she reached out, taking a small supple breast in hand, squeezing it lightly. A gasp escaped her lips as the sensation. Where had THAT come from? Curious, and more than a little turned on, she took her other breast in hand, and gave them both a squeeze.

Warm fuzzy tingles erupted within her, and her eyes slid half-closed in pleasure. Moaning softly, she continued to squeeze and caress her small handfuls, losing herself in an erotic fog of her own creation. Her thighs clenched slightly, and she longed to slide a hand down between them and play with clit, but her breasts felt too good to release.

“Your Honor?” a voice, accompanied by a loud knock, sounded at her door, breaking her out of her spell. “Hello? May I come in?”

“Ahh!” she exclaimed, quickly rebuttoning her blouse, and straightening her appearance. “Yes, um, come in, George.”

The burly bailiff stuck his head inside, frowning slightly. After a slight hesitation, he entered. “Are you... feeling okay today, Judge?”

“Hmmm? Well... I do feel like I might be running a slight fever, so I might be coming down with something... but it’s nothing too serious. I’m fine, George.”

“Ah, so you’re feeling sick. That explains it,” George said, nodding. “I was a bit concerns with the way you were acting earlier, but if you’re on some strong medication—”

“Wait, I’m not on any... what do you MEAN the way I’ve been acting all day? What are you talking about?”

George sighed, glancing around, unable to meet her eyes. “Listen, Your Honor... Patricia... you know that I respect you a lot. Being appointed as a circuit court judge before the age of thirty-five is a real accomplishment. In the three years since you were appointed to the bench, you’ve done an incredible job. You’ve worked harder than any five judges trying to prove that they appointed the right person for the job, and I think you’ve proved yourself. So... with that in mind... maybe it’s time you took a little break? You know... a little vacation?”

Crossing her arms, she glared at him. “Just what are you trying to say, George? That I’ve cracked under the strain? That I need a rest from doing my job? I’ll admit that I’ve been a little bit... distracted... today...”

“Your Honor, you trailing off in the middle of speaking. I had to prompt you to continue seven times!”

“Just a little distracted,” she insisted. “And I think I might have the early stages of the flu. But I haven’t missed a day in over two years, and I don’t plan on it anytime soon.”

Bailiff Trask nodded, sighing. “Very well. If that’s your wish. Is there anything I can get for you, Your Honor?”

“No thank you, I’m fine. I’ll be heading down to the cafeteria in a few minutes to grab a quick bite.”

Track nodded again, moving to the door. “Oh, and by the way, do you have any plans for the prisoner?”

“Prisoner?”

“Your first case this evening, Jack Delvers. You had him sent to the lockdown In Contempt.”

Patricia frowned, remembering. “Oh. Him.” Grabbing her purse, she walked to the door as well. “He can stay in there until he’s ready to apologize. Let him spend the night in there, and we’ll check back tomorrow to see if he’s had a change of heart.”

“Alright. I’ll let the guards know.” He paused before turning into the hallway. “By the way, Judge, I like your new hair style. The highlights show really well.”

“Highlights?” Patricia asked, frowning as he walked out of earshot. “Huh. I haven’t done anything different with my hair. And he’s calling ME distracted.”

* * *

Jack glanced up at the sound of the door opening. Seeing the guard carrying a small tray, he felt his momentary hope of freedom vanish. “Oh, hell. That’s not for me, is it, Mr. Trask? If you’re bothering to feed me, it must mean I’m not getting released anytime soon.”

“’Fraid so,” the bailiff replied, sliding the tray in through the feeding slot of the cell bars. “It’s dinner time. Hope you like chicken fried steak. It was a choice of this, or the meatloaf... and I don’t hate you enough to subject you to cruel and unusual torture.”

Jack laughed. “Glad to hear it.” He paused for a moment, considering. “Um... you seem like a pretty decent guy. Can you tell me... is Judge Mayweather the kind of person that blows up big, then cools down later?”

George sighed. “If you’re asking about your chances of getting out of here tonight, I’d say nil. Judge Mayweather... she’s a good woman, I suppose. We’re friends of a sort. I’ve known her for several years now, since before she was appointed, and I don’t want to talk bad about her but... she’s very... well... driven. Consumed, really. She takes her duties and job as a judge very seriously. You embarrassed her in court with your comments, and nothing less than a humble and heartfelt apology from you will get her to let you out.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured,” John said with a shake of his head. “But besides that... what kind of person is she, personally? You said she is a good woman, and that you were friends, of a sort. Does that mean you consider her your friend, or does she consider you hers? And, is it reciprocated?”

The bailiff frowned. “Well, that’s kind of personal. I don’t feel comfortable talking about this kind of thing...” His voice trailed off, and his eyes widened as he locked gazes with the inmate. Amber colored eyes drilled into his own, and he felt his brain melt under the onslaught. A strange, giddy sensation swept over him, and a stupid smile creased his lips.

“Now, George,” Jack said, sitting back down on his bunk, “are you sure you don’t feel like talking some more about the Judge with me?”

“Huh?” the bailiff said, blinking, momentarily dizzy. “Um? Sure... hell, why not? What was the question again?”

“Just tell me, truthfully, what kind of person she is. She just seems to me to be a bit of a ballbusting bitch,” he said with a frown. “But... I might have just caught her on a bad day.”

“Oh, no,” Trask assured him, “you’re right on target. Patricia Mayweather is exactly that—a ballbusting bitch. Real ‘Type A’ personality, that one. I knew her father for a number of years before he passed on, and he was probably the only man in the world that could control her.”

“I see,” Jack sighed. “So, I guess I’m not the only one she’s tried to make an example of, then?”

Trask laughed. “Are you kidding? Judge Mayweather has made a career of doling out particularly harsh punishments throughout her career. She’s trying to fast track her career, hoping to attract enough attention and notice to land a nomination from city to state appointed judge, and eventually on to the federal court level. She’s hoping to become the youngest female justice ever appointed to the Supreme Court.”

Jack blinked. “Damn. Well, what she lacks in manners and people skills she certainly makes up for in ambition.” He nodded inwardly. “Thanks, George. That’s what I needed to know. I don’t feel quite so bad about what’s going to happen to her now.”

“Hmm? What do you mean? What’s going to happen to her?”

Jack waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. In fact, just forget the whole thing, this whole conversation. Alright?”

George nodded stupidly, still smiling. “Okay.” He closed his eyes... then blinked, glancing around. “Huh? Wh... what was I... what were we talking about again?” He peered closer at Jack, staring into ice blue eyes, then frowned, shaking his head again.

“Oh, nothing,” Jack replied, digging into his dinner. “Thanks for the food, Mr. Trask. It’s not my favorite, but it’s not half bad.”

The bailiff nodded, slowly. “Um... okay. You’re welcome. Anyway... just remember what I said earlier about Her Honor. If you want to get out of here, you’d better be prepared to make a deep and heartfelt apology, with lots of groveling.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Once the burly bailiff had departed, Jack pushed his tray aside. He hadn’t wanted to resort of using his abilities on the friendly guard, but he’d needed to know more about the kind of person the judge really was. Despite being locked up in jail for the night, he’d felt guilty about unleashing the full brunt of his power on her. He’d refrained from using his abilities at all for more than three months, ever since moving to the city, and until today he’d managed to endure all of life’s little problems and disappointments without resorting to quick fixes.

Still, if there was ever a reason to break my own self-imposed rule, this was it. Fucking bitch... career-oriented is one thing... but trying to get ahead by stomping on people’s dignity is beyond belief. No.. I don’t feel guilty about what’s going to happen to her now. It’s probably for the best—if she’s this much of a despot with the little power and influence she has, I shudder to think what she’d be like with more.

* * *

The day seemed to drag on for eternity. As time went on, Patricia found it harder and harder to concentrate on the proceedings. Her mouth didn’t seem to be working correctly, and any word longer than three syllables seemed to become a tongue twister. Worse, she kept losing her train of thought in the middle of speaking, which only made her frustrations mount. She’d always kept an air of solemn decorum in her court, but halfway through the night, the audience was openly, if quietly, laughing at her. She’d endured it for nearly half an hour before she remembered how, and ordered the bailiff to clear the courtroom of everyone except those involved in the current case. When the final case of the night had been decided she sighed loudly, thanking God that it was finally over.

“Yes! I can’t wait to get this damned hot thing off me!” she declared, tossing the robe aside onto the couch. “I’m so fucking hot... that’s the last time I wearing this underneath my robes. Tomorrow, I’m dressing in shorts and a tank top.”

Downstairs in her car, she’d just buckled up and started the engine when she received a shock. Glancing into the rearview mirror to back out, she caught sight of her face. Or more particularly, her hair. “What the hell?” she exclaimed, running her fingers through her silky dark mane. Just as her bailiff had said, her hair was streaked through and through with blonde highlights. Further, her hair, which she always kept neatly trimmed at shoulder length, was actually a few inches longer and straighter than before.

What in the hell is going on here? First, I start spacing out all day long, now all of a sudden my hair’s started changing. And I’ve been feeling damned hot all day like I’m running a fever. Scowling, she glanced behind her and backed out of her parking space, turning onto the road. Maybe I’ve caught a flu bug or something. That would explain the fever and the lightheaded feeling... but I can’t imagine what I could have been exposed to that would bleach my hair that way without me noticing it. Hmph. She glanced at the Walgreens sign just to her right, and pulled in. Guess I might as well pick up some hair coloring and Nyquil at the drug store on the way home.

Ten minutes later, she was back on the road again, the supplies sitting in the passenger seat beside her. The cashier, a young blonde strumpet with long blonde hair in a ponytail, had commented on her hair, asking her if she knew she was buying a darker color instead of a highlight treatment to enhance her blonde streaks. Patricia had a bad moment when she’d actually considered going back to the aisle to look for the bleach before she remembered the reason she’d stopped in to get hair coloring in the first place. Instead of responding to the girl in her usual gruff manner, she’d giggled, thanking her for the advice, but saying that she was trying to go darker, not lighter. It wasn’t until she was back in her car that she realized how strangely she’d responded.

I must be a lot sicker than I thought, she told herself. Maybe I should call in a replacement for tomorrow... just to give myself a chance to get well again. One day wouldn’t be so bad, I guess.

A loud rhythmic beat sounded outside, and Patricia scowled at the bright neon glare as she drove past the new club that had just opened up. Typically, a large crowd of people were lined up outside, waiting to enter, most of whom were women, scantily clad in clothing that left little to the imagination. The judge wrinkled her nose in disgust. Filthy little sluts. I can’t imagine anyone willing to dress that way in private, let alone be seen in public that way! Disgraceful! she thought snidely, as she slowed, then stopped, parking right across from the club, staring deeply at the pulsing neon lights. I can’t believe they allowed a place like this to open so close to a respectable neighborhood like mine. If I had my way the building would be boarded up and condemned...

Despite her thoughts on the matter, the heat she’d felt burning inside her seemed to grow hotter, descending between her thighs. Wetness dripped down her thighs, unnoticed by the judge, her mind turned inward with thoughts of how to go about serving an injunction against the owners of the club. Her thighs clenched and unclenched, moving in time with the beat coming from the club. It was only when one hand had left the steering wheel and descended to the crotch of her pants that she realized what was going on.

“Bloody hell!” she shouted, forcing her errant hand back to the steering wheel. “God! What the hell’s the matter with me?” Stepping on the gas, she surged forward through the intersection, eager to put as much distance between her and the decadent influence of that ‘house of perversion’. Shaken by her reaction, and her increasing sense of reality slipping away from her, she tried to reconcile her actions. She was obviously tired, and very overworked, as George had said. She was most likely coming down with the flu, and running a high fever. Taken in that light, it was only natural that her behavior might be a little strange. By the time she pulled up to the driveway of her Brownstone manor house, she was fully convinced that she was just overreacting, and that she’d be fine after a good night’s sleep.

Yawning, she entered her bedroom, suddenly tired. Normally fastidious, she kicked off her shoes, ripped off her blouse and pants, and fell onto her bed, leaving her discarded clothes in a pile on the floor. Yawning again, eyes closing, she rolled over, pulling her covers over herself, and fell promptly asleep.