The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“All Rise! Court is now in session! The honorable Judge Meriwether J. Phelps presiding!” the bailiff called out loudly, as the judge entered the building. My attorney and I both stood as did the rest of the courtroom, actually. When the bailiff tells you to rise, you rise, particularly if you happen to be a convicted criminal about to face justice. Innocent or guilty, its generally a bad idea to piss off the judge presiding over you by not showing the proper respect before the trial even begins.

Not that it would make much difference in my case. I was guilty... guilty as hell. I had no idea what my dad’s hot shot lawyer had up his sleeves, but I didn’t envy him his position. His client was a national celebrity, and not in a good way. And, well... I wasn’t working against him, exactly, but... I wasn’t exactly helping him either. Truth be told, now that I’d committed myself to facing my crimes and dealing with the consequences, I really didn’t much care what happened. I just wanted this all over and done with. I was royally screwed, and no amount of technical jargon was going to change that.

I was guilty.

A quick glance behind me showed the court room was practically standing room only. The seats were filled, and there was even a camera crew there, filming the proceedings. Great. I get to be on Court TV. I did however notice that I didn’t seem to have any fans in the audience; if looks could actually kill, there’s be no need for the trail at all, since I’d have been executed ten times over by now.

Fine. Doesn’t matter anyway. Only thing I was really concerned about was whether I’d be sent to a normal prison or one of those hi-tech Vault-type prisons for Supers. I wasn’t a flight risk, not really... but considering the fact that I had run, in the beginning, I supposed it would only be natural that they take special precautions to make sure I stayed locked up.

I really wished Mom was here. Knowing what was going to happen to me... I’ve always been a bit of a loner, not really that comfortable around other people, even if they were family... but, well... sometimes a guy just needs him Mom, even if she can’t just kiss it and make it all better. I’d spent some time with Dad on the trip back to River City, and he’d been sympathetic and encouraging, even positive about my chances of getting off on the charges against me altogether. And yes, I appreciated it very much, just as I appreciated the fact that the only reason he wasn’t sitting next to me now was because he needed to personally gather a few more pieces of evidence to try and help my case.

Katie and Sylvia had stopped by a few times to wish me luck and encouragement, and would have stayed for the trial, but Sylvie’s band was booked to head back to Midas City today, and I asked my sister to go see her off safely. The mere fact that my famous rock star cousin had even deigned to visit me, let along to give me her love and support was... well... humbling. Still, I was glad she was flying back to Midas; I didn’t want her hurting her career by associating with “undesirables”. And one LaSilvas sister is just as stubborn as the other; if she hadn’t already made a commitment to perform out of town, I don’t think I could have convinced her not to sit in my corner, despite the number of fans she might have alienated.

I swear, once this is all over and I’ve served my time, I plan to make it up to her and Aurora. Maybe I can ask around in prison and see if anyone knows anything about Sarah? Not sure if anyone imprisoned would know anything or not, but it’s probably one avenue no one’s tried yet, and I’d already be on the inside...

“Mr. Harrison, your opening remarks, please.”

I glanced up as the District Attorney stood up, and walked in front of the courtroom. “Your Honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, and those of you watching these proceedings,” he began, pacing slowly back and forth, “the State intends to prove that this individual,” he stopped suddenly, pointing straight at me, “the defendant, did willfully and malevolently cause the deaths of five innocent victims. Furthermore, the defendant, fleeing the scene of this first crime, proceeded to run amok, leaving a trail of destruction and chaos in his wake, not only in our fair city, but in several other states across the country! He is guilty of destruction of property, assaulting duly licensed and deputized Supers, resisting arrest, and most troubling of all, attempted murder of a State Highway Patrol officer.” He turned again, and began pacing once more. “These, and many other minor charges, are, of course, a jurisdictional nightmare; however, the representatives of the various state governments have agreed to cede their right to prosecute in favor of settling all these charges here in our court, at the site of the original and most heinous of his crimes.”

He sighed softly, shaking his head. “We intend to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that this... this... person,” he said with obvious derision, “is guilty on all counts. He is a beast... an animal.. a rabid dog—” he held up a hand, stopping his tirade even as my lawyer rose to his feet, “forgive me my emotional outburst, ladies and gentlemen. Despite what the defendant is, and the actions he has taken, we, as a civilized society, must rise above our own personal feelings. The LAW, ladies and gentlemen... the law, is fair, and unbiased. We do not seek revenge for the defendant’s many many victims, despite the fact that he deserves it. No... for that would bring us down to his level. Ladies and gentleman of this court, what we seek... is justice. Swift and decisive justice. Nothing more... and certainly nothing less. Thank you.“

Huh. Well. The prosecutor certainly had a way with words. After a speech like that, I think maybe I’d give myself the death penalty. My lawyer rose to his feet as the prosecutor took his seat. Pausing to squeeze my shoulder slightly in encouragement, he began his own speech.

“Your Honor, Judge Phelps, distinguished members of the jury, friends, family, and all of you watching these proceedings. I have to say that I agree with the District Attorney. Not his very impassioned spiel about my client being a ‘monster’ or a ‘brute’, no... I agree only with what he said at the end. This case isn’t about revenge. It’s about justice. No more and no less. And considering the graphic nature of some of the charges in this case, I would ask you all to keep that in mind. Justice... not revenge. ”

Walking over to the judge’s podium, he turned to face the jury. “My client is not a beast. He’s not a madman, or a sadist. He’s just a young man, a kid actually, not even twenty-one years old yet. Yes, he is old enough to stand trial and be treated as an adult by our State’s laws—I do not deny that fact, nor will I try and cloud the issues with constant talk about his age. What happened on the 23rd of July was a tragedy. Again, I do not deny the gravity of what occurred. But... though my client was neglectful, irresponsible even, there was no ill will or malevolence in his actions. None.” He paused for a moment to look in each juror’s face, making eye contact. “He made a mistake... one that caused the lives of five people... but that doesn’t make him evil!”

Taking a deep breath, he shook his head. “Ladies and gentlemen... I intend to prove to you that the actions taken by the defendant were those brought about by inexperience, and a simple lapse in judgment, nothing more. The events that followed the night of July 23rd represent not the bloodthirsty destruction of a master criminal run amok, but a scared and frightened young man running to escape a terrible thing... a tragic accident that had made him a hated and hunted man. And then... in the end, he turned himself in. Voluntarily. Surrendered himself at the Midas City police station of his own accord! And considering the feats this young man is capable of, believe me when I say, if he’d wanted to escape, to keep running, there is very little the police could do to stop him.”

He paused for a moment, removing his glasses, rubbing them lightly with a handkerchief. “Justice, ladies and gentlemen. Super powers or no, the defendant is an eighteen year old boy! How many of you remember life at that age? I, for one, remember that age all too well... wanting to be independent, wanting to prove yourself a man, that you were ready for anything, yet still so woefully unprepared for harshness of real life. Does that excuse his actions? No. Not at all. But does that make him an inhuman monster? Same answer. No.” Walking back to the defense table, he paused once more, and added. “My client was young, and stupid. He made a mistake. Then he made a bigger mistake by running. But then he realized that running was only making things worse, so he turned himself in. And the one and only reason he’s here in this courtroom today because he’s ready to pay for his crimes, ready to see that justice is done. Thank you.”

Sitting down next to me, he gave me a small smile and a nod. And I have to admit, I was impressed. Maybe it’s a prerequisite to being a lawyer, having a gift for eloquent oratories. I don’t know if having the ‘gift of gab’ would be considered a super power, per se, but if so, I certainly wouldn’t mind trading down. Or up. Or... sideways even. There are certainly worse things in life than being blessed with a silver tongue.

Hmmm. Silver tongue. I thought briefly of Aurora, back in Midas, still doing none the worse for wear after our little ‘experience’ together. Despite the direness of my situation, I found myself smiling, thinking of her. Her body may be more argentum than aureus these days, but the silver definitely hasn’t reached HER tongue yet. Thinking back on that incident, on what happened to her trying to defend me, and what I was able to do to help her... and I reconsidered the idea of trading away my powers after all. Funny. Even though I’ve always thought of my powers as something of a curse, I can’t deny how good it felt to save a life. Well... it felt good once the agonizing pain and nausea of siphoning off my own life essence to restore ’Rora’s finally faded. Still... if it’s just a new way of utilizing the powers I was born with, maybe it’ll get easier with practice. And if not... well... some things are just worth a little pain...

Christina Alvera Montenegro scowled deeply at the image on her sixty-five inch flat screen TV. Long scarlet colored nails tapped incessantly on the heavy oak end table next to her bed, where she lounged, mind deep in thought. Like most of the country, she’d tuned in to watch the court proceedings in the latest ‘Trial of the Century’ against the Super villain known as Umbra. It has started off as mostly a whim, just to see what all the ta-do than any real interest... a whim, a flight of whimsy, or idle curiosity. Court cases were boring even at best, even when it was your own trial you were attending; watching someone else getting put through the wringer was considerably less exciting. She’d watched only for a few minutes while sipping a glass of imported wine, intending to listen to the opening arguments, then switch over to the news, when she caught sight of the defendant’s face.

And promptly dropped the wineglass to the floor.

“SHIT!” she hissed, wide-eyed, staring agog at the criminal’s face, a face that resonated with another, hidden deep-deep inside her mind. Behind a dark cloud, dark, but thinning by the second as she continued to stare into that strangely familiar face... a face she knew from... somewhere...

And in another instant the cloud lifted, and her memory of the night in the hotel returned.

“F-f-f-fffuuuuccckkk!” she screamed, eyes rolling back into her head as images, memories buried and forgotten, suddenly returned... the meeting in the motel room... her more than generous offer for her to work for him... his refusal... their brief but epic struggle... and then... the single most glorious fucking she’d ever experienced in her life!! A whimper escaped her lips as the memory caused her thighs to clench, and her toes to curl. Then... the moment passed... and she remembered the rest... his face peering down at her... his voice whispering to her, telling her, commanding her... words that still echoed strangely in the recesses of her mind... telling her to confess her crimes, to turn herself into the police, and let herself be locked away... and finally, to forget, forget, forget him... to forget his face... forget what had happened in that room... and like an obedient little mindfucked slave, she did as instructed, and promptly forgot all about her meeting with Umbra.

Until now, when the sight of his face triggered the memory and brought it all back again.

“You... fucking... son of a bitch!” Serpentina hissed, slamming a fist down hard on the end table, cracking the heavy oak countertop. Staring intently at the screen, she hissed again, her tongue flicking out from between her enlarged fangs. “You think you can do something like this to me and get away with it?” she growled, both hands clenching into fists. “No one humiliates Serpentina and gets away with it! No one!”

The bedroom door opened, and a man in a green turtleneck peered inside, just as Serpentina turned to scowl at him. “Hey, Boss? You okay? Thought I heard a loud bang just... a... moment... aaaa... gggooo...” The henchman’s eyes widened and glazed over, caught in his Mistress’ hypnotic gaze. A devilish grin creased her lips, and she rose from the bed, stalking her way over to her hapless, helpless victim.

“Why yes, Vincent... everything is just fine. Now, anyway,” Running a scarlet lacquered nail along his chin, she led the hypnotized man into her bedroom. “You should know the rule about interrupting me in my private bed chambers unless it’s an absolute emergency. But... as it turns out, I am actually glad to see you. Strip... now!” she barked, walking over to her closet, bending down to retrieve a very large leather satchel. Opening it up, she withdrew a somewhat worn leather riding crop, and a well used thin reed flogger. By the time she straightened up and turned back to the bed, Vinnie was naked and ready—the perfect tool to release some of the stress and angst she’d built up in the last few minutes. Slapping the crop lightly against the palm of her hand, she chucked darkly, approaching her helpless victim.

“It’s almost a pity that you won’t remember this little session, Vinnie,” she said, flicking her long thin tongue out along the side of the leather crop. “I know I’m going to remember it fondly. This will be practice... for what I intend to do to our dear friend Umbra, once I get him in my clutches.” Raising the lash, preparing to strike, she promised herself that the dark haired man would end up in her grasp sometime soon, no matter what steps she had to take...

Court is boring.

I mean, on one hand, everything happening was important, all a part of deciding my fate, whether I’d end up in a minimum security prison, a maximum security gulag, or strapped down to a metal slab preparing for a lethal injection. And I really really REALLY hoped to avoid that last one, by the way. On the other hand, the entire process consisted of listening to people talk and argue and debate and examine and cross-examine the facts of the case, which were, to my mind, cut and dried.

After an entire day of it, I was reconsidering my stance on the lethal injection. A quick death was better than this long drawn out torture.

Then the prosecutor played his ace in the hole, bringing out his ‘big guns’... i.e., the father and other relatives of the family in the minivan. I’d expected anger from them, fury, or hatred... some kind of deep dark emotional outlet of pain that I would take, and endure, and suffer through. Anger and hatred I felt since entering the court room... anger and hatred I could deal with. But... when the husband and father of the deceased took the stand, and stared down at me, his expression was simply... numb. His eyes were just... dead... as if he himself had died in the explosion, and his ghost had been called back from beyond the grave to testify.

My memory, while not as flawless as my father’s, is rather good. I remember far too many things I wish I could forget. And yet... after staring a few moments into that poor man’s face while he talked about his wife and daughters, I just... I just tuned out. To everything. I vaguely recall seeing a line of faces take the stand, some of them familiar, some of them not. I couldn’t have told you a word they’d spoken if you’re placed a PCF to my temple. All I could see was the dead, hopeless look in that man’s face, playing over and over again in my head... and hear the flat, lifeless tone in his voice as he turned to me before leaving the stand, and asked me, in a soft quiet voice the one question I just couldn’t answer.

Why?

Why did his family have to die? Why didn’t I take the time to make sure the area was clear? Why didn’t I throw that damned bomb somewhere else—anywhere else?

Why?

“Hey. Jimmy. Are you okay?”

I blinked, staring up into the face of Daryl, my father’s attorney. “Hey, are you alright?” he asked again. “You look a little dazed.”

I shook my head. “I can’t... I don’t think I can do this anymore...” I said slowly. My head was swimming, and my mouth had a sour taste to it. “I think I might throw up.”

“Easy, son,” he said gently, helping me to my feet. “It’s okay. We’re in recess right now, anyway. The prosecutor just finished up with his last witness, so we’re done for the day. Tomorrow, it’s our turn. We’ll turn things around. I promise.”

I laughed, bitterly. “Turn things around? Are we in the same court room? The jury hates me. The judge hates me. Hell, the entire NATION hates me! And that man...” I sighed, shaking my head, unable to meet his eyes. “The man who’s life I destroyed, the one who has more reason than anyone else to hate me... he feels nothing. No hate, no anger, no... nothing. It’s like... all the emotion was just burned out of him... like his family...”

Shit. I didn’t want to lose it like this... not here, not in court. Not before I made it back to my cell in the county jail. There, I could fall apart and let myself wallow in the pain and guilt I felt strangling me like a noose. With an extreme effort, I closed my eyes, drawing a shell of darkness around myself, letting it obscure my face, my body...clothing myself in shadows.

“Jimmy? W... what the hell are you doing?” Daryl hissed, glancing around to see if anyone was watching. “Stop that! You can’t use your powers like this in court! If the bailiff sees you, he’ll think you’re trying to escape or something and shoot you!”

“I’m not... trying... to escape...” I hissed softly, feeling the dark energy bubbling up inside me. Churning and churning, like a pot left on the stove too long, about to bubble over. “My powers... are based on... my emotional state. Everything.... I heard today... that man...” I grunted again, feeling the darkness coalescing, gathering, my iron clad control beginning to slip. “I can’t keep it in... God... my bad luck demons... can’t... keep it in check... much longer...”

“HEY!” the bailiff cried, finally noticing, drawing his weapon. “Security, we have a situation here! I need backup in courtroom 1-A, now!”

“Wait! Hold it!” Daryl yelled, stepping in between the bailiff and myself. “Relax! Please, put the weapon down! I swear, everything is okay. He’s not trying to escape or anything!” As more police filed into the court room, several onlookers, just having left the court, began heading back inside to watch the spectacle. Making the situation worse.

“Gggaaaahhhhh!” I cried, feeling a small bit of dark energy escape my grasp. A tiny sliver, nothing more, yet the heavy bronze statue of Lady Justice attached to the far wall cracked with a loud GONG sound, the head snapping off, falling to the floor. The bailiff and the others yelled in shock, taking several steps back, pointing their weapons at me in fear. I turned to my lawyer. “Daryl... clear this room...get everyone... out... it’s too much... too... much...”

“Bailiff Jensen,” Daryl said in a low deep voice, “my client is having a hard time coping with the trial. His powers are DIRECTLY tied to his emotional state, and as you can guess, right now he is very emotional! Now, if you want to prevent another tragedy like the one we are all in court over, for the love of all that is good and decent CLEAR THIS FUCKING ROOM!”

Blinking, taken aback by the usually stoic lawyer’s outburst, the court officer snapped into action. “Okay, you heard the man, clear this room! I want everyone out of here, now! Move it!” As his backup hurriedly began showing people out of the courtroom, he turned to face the lawyer. “If this turns out to be some kind of trick,” he warned, “if you’re helping him pull some kind of last minute escape—”

“Trust me, I’m not!” Daryl said, grabbing the bailiff’s arm, pulling him out of the room as well. “I’m trying to save everyone’s skin... including my own! Now come on... move!”

Just as they passed through the threshold, the last bare threads of my control snapped. I sank to my knees, and as unmanly as it may be to say it, I cried. I wailed. I sobbed like a five year old child who’d lost his puppy. All around me my shadow tendrils lashed out furiously in all directions, as a maelstrom of wood, paper, concrete and metal debris swirled around me. Sorrow, pain, and guilt poured out of me, nonstop.

THIS was what I had run from. THIS was the reason I travelled half way across the country, trying to outrun the pain and guilt I felt for what I had done. And today... I had stared the source of that guilt directly in the eye. I screamed, as the deadly tornado continued to rage around me, willing it to collapse inward, begging, needing it to strike me down, to hurt me, destroy me, obliterate me! But, as always, my damned cursed imps of destruction tore apart the world around me, yet left me completely and utterly untouched.

“Are ye done now, lad?”

The cold metallic hand on my shoulder took me by surprise, but I was simply too run down to respond. A second hand clasped my other shoulder, and gently but firmly lifted me back to my feet. Staring down at my father’s shining cobalt blue armor, slightly dinged and scratched from wading through the maelstrom to reach me, I felt the last of my angst slide away. Slumping against him, I let out a small sigh. “I wish Mom was here,” I said simply before closing my eyes.

“Aye, son,” Eugene Frasier’s digitized voice replied, just as softly, stroking his beloved son’s back. “I wish she were here as well.” He shook his head. “But dinnae worry, lad. I am here now. I found the answers I was looking for, and things are about to change. You’ll not suffer a moment longer, after I’ve had my say.” He sighed, his expression darkening. “Believe me when I say that this isn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.”