The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Kristine’s Conscience

by Sarhom

Chapter 8

“Did I hear you go out last night?” I asked Kristine the next morning.

“Ugh, can you at least wait until the coffee is done?” Kristine grumbled, looking at the cheap coffee machine in the room. This hotel didn’t have room service.

“Sure. We did stay up playing with that slut... I mean, with, uh...” I rubbed my forehead. “I forget her name, now.”

Kristine laughed softly to herself. “Ida. Yeah. And after that... I just went for a walk, that’s all.”

“Oh, okay.” I said. Kristine started to open her mouth as if to say more, but then quickly turned away. She started putting her clothes and other things back in her suitcase. After a minute of silence, I finally broke the ice. “So... did anything happen?” I asked with a slight grin.

Kristine shook her head. “Nah. I just did some thinking.” She looked at me. I kept smiling, but she frowned and scratched the back of her neck. “I think... I shouldn’t have brought you on this trip.”

“Oh.” My smile faded. That was not what I had expected. I felt the temperature in the hotel room drop a few degrees, and it was already air conditioned. Kristine fiddled with the hairbrush she was supposed to be putting away, and I shifted in my seat, feeling very awkward. After a pause, I asked, “Why?”

“Well... I’m still out of control, making messes everywhere. Like, with my powers, and forcing things on... people.” My memory flashed back to yesterday, when a frustrated Kristine literally tried to force herself on me. But she kept rambling, “But anyway, I think if this thing in DC doesn’t work, you should probably go. Um, I mean, I’ll go. Away. You and I should go different directions,” she babbled. Kristine bit her lip and looked up into my eyes, hoping I’d understand.

“I see,” I said, feeling slightly hoarse. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to help you as much as we hoped.”

“I’m not blaming you, Josh,” apologized Kristine.

“You know, you can get a bus from here to DC pretty easy. Or you could easily grab a car, or even hitchhike,” I said. Kristine just stared. “I’m saying, I could go now if you want.”

“No!” Kristine exclaimed, and I felt slightly better. “I mean, you... you can if you want to. Y-you don’t have to.”

I allowed myself a slight smile again. “I don’t have to do anything. You told me to be ‘completely immune to your powers,’ remember?”

Kristine laughed nervously.

“I mean, I’ll go if you want me to, Kristine. Whenever you want. You did ask me to come along and help keep you sane, but I’ll leave if you tell me to,” I said.

Kristine just nodded. We finally got coffee out of the cheap machine in the room, and we drank it and finished packing in silence.

Finally, I said, “How about, after we get that headdress, then let’s figure out what we should do.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” agreed Kristine quickly. I saw the clouds start to pass from her face, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“The real question is, how are we going to get it? The American Indian museum has to have security cameras...”

“I think I know how,” smiled Kristine.

We drove pretty much the whole day, without incident.

Mostly without incident.

When we stopped for gas in the morning, I looked around the stationed, bored, and my eyes fell upon the tall, motherly woman at the next pump. Suddenly, she turned to face me, grinned, and flashed her huge tits at me. When I got back into the car, adjusting my jeans uncomfortably, Kristine wore a giant naughty smirk. I drove us off like nothing happened.

Then, a couple hours later, we stopped for lunch at a highway rest stop. It was basically a food court and convenience store, nothing else. I got pizza. Kristine got a burger, fries, and the cute skinny guy working at the burger place. He followed her back to the table, and crawled beneath it. He ate her out while she ate the fries.

“Kristine,” I said, frowning. She shivered with pleasure, and shot me a defiant look. “You know, you should really... oh.” The 18-year-old unzipped my fly, fished out my cock, and started to stroke it. I got real hard, real fast. Kristine grinned at me impishly, and I said no more.

Around 5:00, we stopped again. This time, it was just to stretch our legs and use the restroom at a donut shop. I got out of the men’s room pretty quick. While I waited for Kristine, I got myself a coffee and sat at the table. I waited. And waited some more. At about 5:20, and my coffee was gone, and I was still waiting. Finally Kristine came out, wearing a guilty smile.

“Sorry,” she said.

“It’s okay,” I replied, looking at my phone for the time. “We should get go... hey!” Behind Kristine, I saw a middle-aged guy with glasses askew and short brown hair all messed up, exiting the ladies’ room with a look of dazed confusion.

“You’re right, we should!” laughed Kristine, dashing off to the car.

We managed to make it to the hotel in DC half an hour before midnight. This place looked really upscale place, and right near Capitol Hill, too. We checked in quickly, and took the elevator up to our room.

“I’m so tired,” I groaned when we got there.

“Yeah, me too,” yawned Kristine. She shucked her clothes on the spot to change into pajamas. I watched. I could feel my cock stir in my boxers.

“We should do it tomorrow, Josh,” said Kristine.

“Uhh... huh?” I asked, startled.

“The American Indian museum. We should get the headdress tomorrow.” Kristine gave me a mildly confused look. She was still naked from the waist up. Why, do you think we should wait?”

“Oh! Ah, no.” I said, feeling myself blush slightly. “That, uh, sounds good.”

I pulled most of my clothes off, and went to bed in my boxers. I fell asleep almost the moment as I closed my eyes.

The next morning found us outside the National Museum of the American Indian. Just staring at the building gave me a weird vibe. It was completely different from the classical-style art gallery across the street, or the huge box-shaped Air and Space museum next door. The American Indian museum was a round building of brownish, natural stone. A line of trees partially obscured the view of the rest of the grassy National Mall from the front steps of the museum, inviting the viewer instead to look at the artificial waterfall and the free-standing banners in front of the main entrance. Both of the banners said “Special Exhibition: Pre-Columbian Mystical and Ritual Art”, and one of them had a giant photo of our target, the brightly-colored headdress.

Even from a photo, it felt weirdly like that headdress was... watching me. I tried to shake off the feeling.

Just inside the front entrance, a couple of security guards stood inspecting everyone who came in. I held my breath, afraid Kristine would make something else happen. But it was fine. They were satisfied with a brief glance inside Kristine’s handbag and my silent passage through the metal detector.

As we stepped into the main atrium, I asked in a hushed tone, “You do have a plan, don’t you?”

“Of course,” said Kristine with a note of confidence. But she kept biting her lip in concentration.

Ignoring a display of authentic canoes in the rotunda, we strode up to the information desk. The bespectacled, grandmotherly woman behind it saw Kristine, but to my surprise, ignored her and kept talking to the tourists she was already helping.

“Nice control,” I murmured appreciatively.

“Thanks,” said Kristine. She gave me a brief smile, but her face soon returned to a look of intense concentration. “I won’t let anything happen, not on camera,” she said with a nod towards the security cam overhead. “We don’t want the FBI after us or anything, right?”

I nodded, and took the time to look around. The interior of the museum had a round, organic design. The whole middle atrium was a wide open space. A staircase ran around the wall, leading to the upper floors, with the exhibits.

The tourists moved away, and Kristine stepped forward. “Would you tell me where the curator’s office is, please?”

I looked over to see the old woman at the desk start, “Why do you...” she blinked at Kristine, and I think I saw her blush. “Sixth floor. She’s in there now. You can’t get there from the exhibits, you have to use the service stairwell. Over there.”

“Thanks! I have an appointment, so you don’t need to worry about it... or remember I was ever here,” Kristine told the woman. Then she stepped away and started walking briskly. I hurried to catch up.

“Hey, Kristine, hang on. What’s—”

“I’m going to make the curator give us the headdress,” explained Kristine, without stopping.

“But... how is she going to explain it? We don’t want there to be an investigation—”

“We’re going to take it away for restoration,” she cut me off. “Putting the artifact on display is damaging, right? All that flash photography?”

“I think that’s a myth.”

“Whatever.” We reached the door that said “Museum Personnel Only.” Kristine stopped and turned around. “I think you should stay here, Josh.”

I took a step back, stung. “Why?”

“Just in case...” she frowned, apologetically. “I mean, it should be fine, but I don’t know what the security situation is up there. I’m going to try not to create an incident, but if something goes wrong... it’s better if you aren’t with me. Besides, one girl looks much less suspicious than if we both go.”

“Do you think something’s likely to go wrong?” I asked with suspicion.

Kristine shifted, uncomfortably. “No, not exactly, I... think I got it under control. But, uh. Remember that outdoor cafe a couple days ago?”

“Not likely to forget it.” I conceded. “I see your point.”

“I think we’ll both be safer if we split up, just until I can control the curator.”

Images of everything that could possibly go wrong flashed into my head. This was Washington DC security we were talking about. The U.S. Capitol was barely more than a stone’s throw from here. What if the guards upstairs were trained to shoot intruders on sight? What if whoever was watching the security cameras had already alerted the FBI? What if she had to use her powers to get away, and it started a giant manhunt for her?

“Josh?”

“Yeah. Okay. Um, I’ll go up and look at the museum.” I turned to go, then turned back. “Be safe, okay?”

She looked into my eyes and gave me a weak smile. “Relax, Josh, I’m just going upstairs.” I didn’t think she sounded that relaxed, though.

We held each others’ gazes for a long moment. Then we both turned away at once. I started walking. The restricted door opened and closed behind me.

I paused for a moment in the atrium, taking in the scene. An eclectic variety of people seemed to be congregating near the information desk. Curious, I walked over. “Everyone here for the docent’s tour?” asked a man at the center of the group. He had only a few wisps of gray hair, and he was cradling a binder in his arms. He had to shout to be heard. “All right, follow me! We’re going to start on the second floor today and work our way up.”

I wandered around with the group for a while. The man took us up the stairs, and from room to room, explaining things as he went. I have to admit, I zoned out for most of it. I looked at all the art and everything, but my thoughts were all about Kristine. She said she wanted me to leave her if she couldn’t get her powers under control. Did that mean she didn’t want me around? I mean, we were just friends. Obviously. I’d just grown used to her company. And the random sex with strangers, well, I liked that. But half the fun was just watching Kristine do her thing. I guess that meant I’d failed as her conscience. Still, I didn’t want her to go. I wanted...

“Now, follow me. We’re going to head up to the fourth floor, where we’ll look at our newest exhibit: a ritual headdress that dates back hundreds of years, found sealed underground by a college student.”

That jolted me back to reality. I was all ears.

“Welcome to the exhibit!” said the old man when we arrived. It was a little room that was solely dedicated to this one display, a single small doorway leading back to the rest of the museum. “Gather round!” he said. But, damn. From my comfortable position at the back of the group, I couldn’t actually see the headdress. Between the shoulders of other people I could just barely make out the top of the glass display case, and a few colorful feathers.

The docent started to lecture. “This object came to us recently from an Ancestral Puebloan excavation in New Mexico. It’s estimated to be around 900 years old. First of all, notice how remarkably well-preserved the feathers seem to be.” I tried standing on tiptoe, but it didn’t help. “Now, obviously, real feathers would never be able to last this long. It turns out, the feathers are carefully carved and painted bison bone, and the hat itself is made of ceramic. It’s an obviously unique piece, the only one of its kind ever found, and meant to last through the ages.”

Someone moved in front of me, and I finally got a better look. There it was. Protectively secured in a glass case, sitting on a central display that commanded attention. No way were those feathers just painted bison bone. Each one had a unique shape, each one a unique color... it spanned the whole spectrum, but not in order. And there was no sign of decay or age at all. Those feathers could have been plucked this morning. I stared in amazement as the docent continued.

“The headdress was found only a few months ago, by a college student. It had been sealed away in almost airless chamber beneath a kiva, an underground room used for spiritual ceremonies. Now, they looked for other bones or funerary markings in the chamber, but they found nothing. So, we still don’t know: Was this a burial monument to some great chieftain? Or did they hide this headdress away on purpose, hoping no one would ever find it? It’s still a mystery! Now, there’s another exhibit on this floor I want to show you. Let’s go back out...”

The docent started to move off, taking the crowd with him. I let them walk past me. Now that I could see the headdress properly, I couldn’t take my eyes off it. I simply refused to believe this was a bone-and-ceramic mockup. I moved closer to see the feathers up close. No carved bone could be that soft, that fine. Each brilliant feather almost shone with the light of the room, reflected off the back of the glass case and passing through the airy plumes. They had a unique, captivating beauty that seemed almost to speak to me as I gazed at them.

I lost track of time, deep in contemplation. The sounds of the whole world around me started to fade away. What was the headdress saying to me? A funny notion crept over my mind. This headdress... this... crown. It didn’t belong here. Locked up in a case. Rightfully, it belonged to the chieftain. It needed to be returned to the chieftain. But no one knew who the chieftain was anymore. No one but me. I should return it to her. I must return it to her.

My hands started to ache for some reason. A shrill sound entered my ears, but I ignored it. Someone, the docent, cried, “D-D-D-D-Don’t touch that!” but I barely registered it. Then I felt huge force slam into me, causing me to stumble sideways.

I looked around, dazed. The whole tour group was back, and they were staring at me. I looked down at my hands. They were red and sore, as if I’d been punching something. I looked at the headdress case. It now had a little crack in it. What had I just done?

The security guard who slammed into me grabbed me again. I barely got a look at him except to see that he was Hispanic, built like a football player, and had a furious scowl. He spun me around, pushed me painfully up against a wall, and grabbed my arms, even though by now I was too stunned to move.

“Everybody, would you take a step back, please,” I heard another man’s voice instruct, loudly. I could tell it was another guard. People started creating a circle around the edges of the room, spilling out the door, all trying to see what was going on.

“Who is that guy?” a woman in the crowd asked.

Another few people were talking to each other very excitedly in an Asian language I didn’t know.

“He was trying to break that box open!” someone else explained to the people behind him.

I heard a click like the shutter of a camera.

“Please, step back, sir,” the guard said again. “If you could all leave the room now... Come on. Come on!”

But there were too many people pressing in to try and see what had happened. The people in front couldn’t move back.

The guard who had been restraining me kept me painfully pressed against the wall, pushing against my back. “What the hell were you doing, huh?” he barked.

The shrill sound of the alarm shut off.

“I was, uh, uh, ummm...” I stammered uselessly.

“You think this is funny!?” he growled. “Are you drunk, boy? High?”

“Gentlemen, ladies, please clear the room,” said the other guard.

“No, I don’t! I’m not!” I protested.

From right behind me, a hand radio blared with a man’s voice..

The guard at my back pulled my hands down behind me. I felt the metal bite of handcuffs against my wrists. Fuck, not again.

“Miss, please keep back, please keep back, miss,” said the other guard, insistently.

“I’m placing you under arrest,” the first guard said, savagely. “What’s your name, boy?”

“Miss, please...”

“My name is... uh... Josh—”

“Everyone just stop!!!“

Everyone just stopped. A deep hush fell over the room.

Testing my strength, I pulled away from the guard who was restraining me. He yielded, motionless. So I spun around to take in the room.

There stood Kristine at the back of the crowd, flushed and breathing heavily. I finally got a good look at the guard who had been arresting me—he looked like a linebacker in a suit. He still had his feet facing the wall, his head spun around to look at Kristine. The second guard was white, and must have been six foot eight, with a military haircut. Both of them, along with the 40 or so other people in the room, all stood completely motionless at Kristine’s command. Living statues.

“What the fuck happened?” Kristine shouted at me across the frozen crowd.

“I d—... I don’t know!” I replied, lamely.

Kristine tried to shoulder her way into the room, but there wasn’t enough space. “Get out of my way,” she commanded. Silently, obediently, the crowd parted. They turned to face Kristine as if she were the queen walking across her throne room. As she came close to me, with my hands still bound, a strange fear that she would punish me took hold. She did have her hands balled into fists, as if to slug me. I took a step back. But she stopped just short of me and asked again, “What the FUCK happened?”

When I took too long to answer, she looked at the tall guard, and he spoke up.

“Miss, he was beating on the headdress case with his fists, Miss.”

The Hispanic guard added, “Miss, I was just about to arrest him, Miss.”

Kristine glared at me for a moment, then turned her attention back to the guards. She pointed to the big guard. “You, uncuff him.” She pointed to the tall guard. “You, make sure no one else comes in here.” She pointed to the man frozen in the crowd, holding a digital camera up to his face. “You, give me that.”

They all obeyed. I was glad to have my sore hands free again, and rubbed them anxiously.

“Delete, delete, delete,” Kristine muttered to herself, going through his camera. More loudly, she intoned, “Everyone, forget this.”

“Yes, Miss Kristine,” the entire room said in unison. Creepy. Kristine gave me a satisfied smirk, and went back to looking at the photos and deleting them. “Seriously, Josh, what the hell.”

I mumbled something about creating a distraction.

“You know, I don’t actually need a distraction,” she growled. “I mean, I’m grateful for your help. But come on...”

The hand radio at the tall guard’s belt started to squawk. “Robertson! Robertson! What the hell is going on down there!?”

Kristine and I made identical movements. We looked from the hand radio to the three security cameras on the ceiling. We groaned together.

She looked at the tall guard, and he, with a dazed expression, took his radio off his belt. “Nothing. All clear, everything normal.”

And suddenly, everything was normal. People were chatting and leaving the room like nothing had happened. The one man waited patiently for Kristine to hand his camera back to him, then smiled at her and strode off to rejoin his family. Only the two guards remained in the room with us, attentive upon Kristine’s desires.

“Everything is not normal!” said the radio. “What the hell is going on? Where’s Flores?”

“He’s right here, sir,” said Robertson. The other guard, Flores, echoed Robertson’s words.

“What is the matter with you two? Why didn’t you arrest that man? Who is that other lady?” the radio demanded.

“This isn’t working,” Kristine moaned to me. “Fuck.”

“We have to get to him,” I muttered, quickly. “You’ve got to control whoever’s watching the cameras, and quick.”

“Yeah, but...!” she whimpered. The two guards weren’t having much success with the radio. “Fine,” said Kristine. She grabbed Flores by the shoulder and put her hand over his radio. “Who are you talking to?”

“Miss, we’re talking to the chief of security for the Museum, Sergeant Klein. He’s in the security room, downstairs in the basement, Miss.”

“You two men, follow me,” said Kristine, quickly. “You also, Josh. And pray he doesn’t tell anyone about us before we get there.”

We ran.

* * *