The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It had always been Dominic Argento’s contention that the eccentric estates were the worst to handle. Most often, they represented a great deal of time and effort for ultimately little financial gain, and seldom was anyone pleased with the outcome of the final disbursements.

The estate of Arthur Greene, on the other hand, threatened never to make it to that sad conclusion. The tragic circumstances of his death had left no apparent heirs, relatives, or legal connections. Nothing had been found that would permit even a rudimentary dispersal of the remaining assets. Dominic had spent most of the day poring over the papers in the recluse’s study, and had thus far found nothing but questions, mysteries, and obstacles.

Dominic leafed through Greene’s documents with a puzzled expression. From what he had been able to ascertain, Arthur had been an orphan, with no living relatives mentioned anywhere (or even, in truth, any solid lineage to attempt to trace). The exception to this isolation had come in the form of his intended heir, his adopted son Anthony.

This, in Dominic’s eyes, was the true tragedy of Arthur Greene’s death. The truck that blind-sided Mr. Greene’s limousine had been enough to kill every occupant of the vehicle, including both his lifetime personal assistant and his 10-year-old son. None suffered in the accident, their deaths coming upon them too quickly, but at the same time, none were left to inherit the estate that was left behind.

Weeks of research had been ultimately fruitless, leading the estate appraiser to nothing but dead-ends. Even Greene’s assistant (the butler and driver of the limousine) had left no immediate family, and had lived in the mansion with his employer until the end. Private investigators had found nothing of Greene prior to 1964, and even the few details they had uncovered were sketchy at best.

Dominic himself would never have been involved were it not for an obscure clause in Mr. Greene’s auto insurance policy. The policy contained provision for restitution in the case of liability from a severe accident. These provisions required a valuation of the estate (in the event that the policyholder was deceased) in order to handle any debts above and beyond the extents of coverage. Even though it was clear from the start that Mr. Greene’s driver was not at fault, it gave the insurance company the legal recourse to have the estate appraised.

Eventually, Dominic knew, he would be removed from the equation entirely. If no suitable heir could be found, the property and assets would revert to the state, most likely never to be seen again. Tragic though it was that such assets would not be passed down, it not really his concern.

Still, the search itself was frustrating. Arthur Greene had been a man of exquisite taste, whose artistic appeals tended toward the erotic and were occasionally bordering on pornographic. The statues that decorated the three-floor mansion were unlike any Dominic had previously appraised. They were obviously the work of the finest sculptors throughout history, and it was clear from even a short time in the mansion that they had cost a pretty penny.

Spending weeks cataloging Mr. Greene’s estate had begun to have an effect on Dominic that he hadn’t seen in many years. He found his appreciation of the female form had grown almost unnaturally since he had set foot in the building, as if the erotic artwork were working on him in a subliminal fashion. After a week, he had dismissed the feeling as the “hazard of the trade” which came from such constant exposure, although secretly it was a feeling he had missed in later years.

It was only after a tremendously long day, digging through paperwork in the deceased’s study, that Dominic came upon the secret door.

It really hadn’t’ surprised him that much, after all, it was the perfect cliché for such a rich eccentric. The release mechanism had even been disguised as a book entitled “Hypatia”. Activating it had revealed a small chamber that was obviously intended as private. Dominic had considered calling in a witness before exploring the room, to protect his legal liabilities, but an odd gut feeling counseled against it.

Dominic chuckled to himself as he entered the room. Consciously, he suspected the reason why he hadn’t called anyone. It was clear from Mr. Greene’s décor that he was a very sexually intriguing individual, willing to present a rare openness toward eroticism. Arthur Greene’s obsession with sexuality would have its own dark side, and dark sides required secrecy. It seemed to Dominic that he had managed to stumble upon that secrecy and he couldn’t deny the desire to explore it alone.

Dominic had been married for six years, in a storybook marriage to a woman of stunning beauty and charm. Their sex life had been remarkably worthwhile, and Dominic had been satisfied throughout. Some part of him however remained unexplored, and this part had lurked in his mind for many years. He held secret desires in his heart...secret lusts that he could never bring himself to explore. Time and the nature of familiarity had led to static, listless sexual encounters with his wife Brenda. He had secretly longed for something more. What he truly wished for was variety, a taste of the perversions of forbidden sex, and the discovery of new partners. Instead, he had long since become resigned to the monogamous repetitions of married life. Perhaps it was the environs in which he now found himself that brought these feelings to the surface. Whatever the cause, Dominic’s interest in this secret little room grew by the moment.

The room itself was probably the smallest in the house (even the bathrooms were larger in volume, as were most of the closets). What was clear upon entry, however, was that this was a private library, spilling over with many different forms of media. Bookcases lined the walls containing leather-bound journals, spiral notebooks, exquisite hardcover diaries, and case upon case of Video taped footage. A well-stocked audio-video workbench and an antique writing desk were conspicuously taking the remainder of the space not devoted to storage. Dominic could tell from a cursory inspection that some areas of the room had been used more recently than others, and that the entire room in general was in need of a good dusting. His appraising eyes shifted quickly to a print upon the wall, an impeccable reproduction of Gerome’s “Pygmalion and Galatea’, and he realized immediately where his answers could be found.

Ignoring the volumes along the walls, he headed straight to the print, and squinted to observe the edges of the painting. The telltale tracks in the dust were enough to show him the release mechanism, and activating it quickly brought him the welcome sight of a combination wall safe.

“Hmmm,” he thought to himself, “This could pose a problem. I could probably get a safe-cracker in here to take a look at this on Monday.” He tapped the door handle to be certain, and frowned at the realization that Greene had remembered to latch the door before leaving. He took a step back from the safe, eyed it suspiciously, then set about trying to work out the combination.

A quick search around the secret room and the study gave no immediate clues to the combination, but upon examining the safe once again, he realized something. “The tumbler is resting on 48. Greene was born in 46 as I recall, at least I think so.” He returned to the study to check his notes.

Luckily for him, Arthur Greene had been as difficult with remembering numbers as most people. Spinning the tumbler to the digits of Greene’s birthday, 3, 21, 46, gave Dominic the welcome “click” he had been searching for.

Dominic couldn’t shake the feeling that his entire life was about to change as the door swung slowly aside.