The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“I’m sorry,” she said. I didn’t know if she meant it, but she couldn’t feel any worse than I did right now.

Six teenage girls were crowded into Mick Nortons’ lounge, watching a movie on DVD and swooning over the latest pretty boy heartthrob in the starring role. Their age ranged from fifteen to twenty-two, as Olivia had never really had many friends in her own class at school. Mr Norton had specifically forbidden his daughter to invite boys to a late night party, especially one that he wouldn’t be around to supervise. So Kevin, Delancey, and Marten had arrived part way through the film, just minutes after the responsible parent set off for his night shift. They knew that a friend of the family was keeping an eye on them, but I hadn’t come downstairs yet so they figured they pretty much had free rein.

One disappointment was that the birthday girl wasn’t even there for her own coming of age. She’d nipped out for a second, just to check that daddy was really gone. She hadn’t returned when the guys showed up, though that may have somehow been related to the fact that Alex Wellington had silently excused herself from the room just a few minutes later. Britney and Kiva, inseparable college buddies, had locked eyes as the crazy dyke left. Kiva had discreetly pantomimed licking an invisible snatch in an ad-hoc sign language guess at where the two might have gone. Britney nodded, unfazed. She was an excellent observer of body language, and was pretty sure Olivia and Alex would both be happy to come out of the closet when they matured and found a little more confidence in themselves.

Their friend Paula Bean, though, wasn’t so tolerant of things she didn’t care to understand, or so aware of the subtle whispers of body language. She was a year older than Olivia, but still had the nervousness of a virgin. The kind of girl who made up for hardly ever noticing what was going on in her friends’ lives, by passing on the news to anyone who’d listen when she did spot something. If Olivia wanted to keep her current squeeze a secret, it would be best if Paula retained her adorable obliviousness. And the younger girls, they’d probably rather not overhear either. Olivia’s sister Hannelore was the youngest, along with her friend Cassandra. They didn’t need to know what was going on.

So the two college girls were a little louder than usual, laughing at the antics of the movie. Britney allowed herself to be more vocal, gasping with delight as Marten’s hands started to wander as far as was acceptable in a room with kids present. Any sound coming down from Olivia’s room would probably go unnoticed.

Nobody was in Olivia’s room, though. Mr Norton had put me in the spare room, asking me to make sure the party didn’t get out of hand while he was away. He trusted me like that, though he would probably have been a little less enthusiastic if he’d known how hard Olivia had been pushing me for sex over the last couple of years. He would have barred me from the house completely if he’d known I never actually said “no”. I had realised too late that I loved her, but I didn’t want to disturb the innocence of a child, even if this precocious girl with her fetish for control seemed to have precious little innocence left.

Today was her birthday, the day we could legally make love for the first time, but also the day she’d chosen to tell me that she was now in a sexual relationship with someone closer to her own age: her friend Alex. It was an emotionally charged conversation, that I think neither of us expected to end with sex. But it had, and now I was in a total panic as I wondered how to explain things to the girl who’d just seen way too much. She was standing over us with a costume that screamed eccentricity with both punk and retro influences, and a stare that spoke of pure hate.

In the end, it was Olivia who broke the stare-out. “I’m sorry,” the words were simple enough, but her voice cracked as if she found it hard to even speak through the guilt. I wondered if she could be feeling as bad as I did in that moment, but then berated myself. Guilt was not a contest, and my priority should be to help her feel better.

“I’m sorry about all this, Alex.” Then she grabbed a blanket to cover herself and ran to the bathroom, hiding the oncoming tears even though her voice had told both of us how much she wanted to cry.

We looked at each other awkwardly. “I hope she’s okay,” Alex muttered under her breath. I nodded in agreement, my eyes scanning over her body at the same time. Alex wasn’t in the least what I’d expected. For one thing, she was a girl. A young woman, really, she was probably in college by now. Her hair was short but wild, jutting away from her head in just one direction. Her clothes were extreme, almost caricatures of last century’s styles, but ornamented with PVC instead of brocade and eye-catching chrome spikes. Her jewellery was ornate regency-style silver, even the rings on her lower lip.

“How much did you see?” I asked again, “I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

She turned away, focused that soul-scorching gaze on the skirting board. It didn’t mean I was forgiven this time, but it was a start. It was quiet enough to hear a wave of raucous laughter drifting up from the lounge. I hoped the other girls there weren’t drinking too much or breaking anything.

“You’re this master hypnotist she talks about, aren’t you?” Alex eventually responded. Her accent was a soft country twang, maybe from the next county, quite at odds with her over the top dress sense. This was a girl who didn’t like to fit any label, clearly.

“I never made her do anything she didn’t want,” I felt defensive, realising as I said it that was no longer true. I was exactly the kind of predator I hated so much when I’d seen their work online, or heard about them from friends in the business. I’d taken advantage of a child; that I’d waited until she wasn’t a minor was splitting hairs.

“You made her study. You gave her a real shot at a good college.” Then, in a whisper I could barely catch, she added: “I’m jealous.” I wasn’t sure how to respond to that, wasn’t even sure she’d meant me to hear it. Had she underperformed in exams, or just wished she’d gone for a different college once it was too late to change her mind?

There are different kinds of silences. There’s the relaxed silence where you don’t need to say anything because you’re with someone who gets you so completely, words are unnecessary. There’s the uneasy silence when you just know that the next thing you say will be judged harshly. A busy silence isn’t really silent, you can practically hear the gears spinning in everyone’s minds, or the scratch of pens on paper in the exam hall. This was a kind of brooding, melancholy silence. Alex was a lively girl, the kind who lets everyone know if she’s feeling outgoing, angry or upset. I was sure that if she wanted to hit someone, or to cry, or to party, then there was nothing that could stop her. But right now, the silence and her body language said that she wanted to say something but couldn’t. Maybe that was even tougher for someone who normally wears their heart on their sleeve.

“Of college? Or having someone to help?” I wanted to probe gently, not risk her anger again.

“No,” there was no sound at all this time, as if a year’s suppressed shyness was taking over all at once. Luckily, lipreading was one of my talents, “Of you. When I’m with Livy, we have a great time. We enjoy all the same sports. We love the same movies. And the sex is like, wow. But I’ll never be the one. When she’s really down, it’s you she wants to hold her. When she’s really horny, it’s you she wants to fuck. She talks about you, you know. She thinks about you all the time.”

“I think you’re underestimating how much Olivia cares about you,” I tried to be conciliatory, supportive. Tonight was an emotional rollercoaster for everyone, and I wouldn’t let myself cry until I could be sure that Olivia — and the people she cared about — were coping fine. “She said she’s choosing to be with you. What you saw… that was a mistake, I know, I don’t want to hurt anyone. Some kind of closure, and I hope you won’t let it come between you.”

“No, no,” she shook her head, “You forced her. I heard that much.”

I tried to interrupt, but she kept on talking, faster now. It was as though she was desperate to get the words out before she lost her nerve, “It’s what she wanted. She confided in me, she always hoped you would, and she felt betrayed when it didn’t happen. She wanted to be helpless, you know that. We used to act out the scenes, pretend it was me she couldn’t disobey. It’s great to have fantasies like that, you know. But I never really got it. I didn’t quite understood why that was so hot to her.”

“You can—” learn, I was going to say, but didn’t get the chance. She finally looked me in the eye, the anger from before gone. Now she didn’t need a mask to hide the vulnerability she’d always had inside.

“When I saw you guys, you were so natural. I get it now, you understand? I don’t know about all the whips and chains, pain and stuff.” She paused, biting her lip slightly, and then brought her train of thought back from its branch line, “But I understand this whole dominate/submissive thing now. I’m not just playing along. I want to have the power. Turn her into a puddle with just a word. But she’s yours now, and I’ll never stand up to that. And I see what she gets out of it, too. I want to be so vulnerable like that. Not have to be this loud, blustery, quirky, angry, crazy punk-loli-dyke who has all the answers, that everybody smiles at but I can never show weakness.”

“Fuck,” she slammed her fist against the door frame, “I’m not so tough as everybody thinks. They reckon I’ve been everywhere, done everything, just ’cause I’m too scared to admit when I got nothing. I see you two and I don’t know who I’m more jealous of. I want to be both, but I don’t know how to do either. She’ll always be yours.” There were tears in her eyes now, and I could see how much it had cost her to admit defeat.

“I can show you…” the words came out before I had time to think about them, then I quickly tried to think of something different. “I mean, I don’t want to come between you two. You’ve got more in common that I’ll ever have, but maybe, if you really want to I mean, I can kind of teach you how to walk the walk. Come on, I want to make sure Olivia’s not beating herself up over all this. Feelings are always complicated, but I don’t want anyone to get hurt if I can help it. So let’s talk it over like adults, all three of us.”

A quick lopsided grin told me that I’d left myself wide open to a sarcastic riposte, but she didn’t say it straight away. She went across the hall to the bathroom door, where Olivia was still locked away. “Hey, love,” she called, the mask of brash assertiveness firmly back in place for a moment, “Don’t get all upset. We’re going to, the three of us, sort it out like adults: In bed.”