The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Part One

The statuesque blonde limped and shuffled down the suburban sidewalk as if drunk, mostly ignoring the endless row of three-story homes with their well-manicured lawns, while stumbling over the odd tree root and trying not to fall against the occasional street-parked vehicle. She’d already done that once, when she’d turned off the main road onto Albermarle Place; she could still hear the car alarm going off, a quarter mile away.

Her face was a nightmare, although it looked a lot worse than it actually was; her mascara had been applied unevenly, her lipstick had mostly worn away, and the blush on both of her cheeks was smeared. Her red two-inch pumps were scuffed, and there was a long tattered run along the left calf of her sheer black hose; her overcoat had been buttoned up incorrectly and only halfway. The blonde was oblivious to how she looked, not that it mattered: despite the occasional street lamp, no one else noticed her presence, it being that godforsaken hour somewhere between very late at night and very early in the morning.

In fact, the only thing on her mind was a recurring mantra: “Must get to Terry. Terry will know what to do. Must get to Terry. Terry will know what to do. Must get to Terry....” Her wide eyes scanned the mini-mansions as she passed, looking for their house numbers: 35, 37, not labeled but presumably 39....

There it was! Number 43. In her excitement and desperation, she started to cut directly across the extensive front lawn; the heels of her shoes got stuck in the grass and soft dirt, so she cast them off and half-ran, half-stumbled up to the front door. She rang the doorbell three times in quick succession; and when nobody showed up right away, began crying as she pounded her fist, then her open hand onto the heavy wood, completely ignoring the ornate brass knocker plate just above her left shoulder.

The door opened a minute later, revealing a slim black gentleman in a maroon robe, holding a golf club in his left hand and determinedly scanning the grounds for trouble. When he saw the blonde crumpled in a heap at his feet, he dropped the club and knelt down to support her. “Eydis! What the hell happened to you? Are you all right?”

Eydis had ignored his hug, but she looked up at the sound of his voice. “T-Terry? Terry.” She paused, and he took note of her smeared makeup and mascara-streaked eyes, which looked especially jarring on her pale skin. Then she clutched at his arm. “Will you take care of me? Please?”

Something in her tone, or perhaps the whole predawn scenario, made Terry not respond to the question directly. “Come inside, Eydis. Let’s get you cleaned up, and I’ll make us some coffee.” He tugged at her and tried to stand both of them up, but she wouldn’t budge.

“Please, Terry? I need your answer. Will you take care of me? It-it’s important.”

He looked at her ice-blue eyes, and finally nodded. “Yes. For now I will. Now please come inside. This is a nice neighborhood and all, but it’s still fuck in the morning.”

With that Eydis stood up, and Terry was reminded of her full height: he was pushing six feet, but in stocking feet to his slippers, she still had him by three inches or more. Still, she lay her head on his shoulder like a lover, giving him an unexpected thrill as she allowed him to guide her through the front hallway and into the dining nook by the kitchen.

He sat her down, fired up the coffee maker and took out a couple of K-cups: dark roast, for extra strength. He knew he needed it, and suspected she did as well. “Please, make yourself comfortable. This’ll just take a minute. Do you want to wash up or anything?” He heard her say “Not yet,” just as the coffee maker went to work.

One minute later he had the first steaming mug ready. Holding it by the handle, he turned and said, “How do you take— Jesus Christ, Eydis! Are you sure you’re all right?”

While he’d been making the coffee, his statuesque guest had slipped out of her badly buttoned coat. Underneath it was what remained of an expensive-looking red silk blouse and black skirt: the former totally unbuttoned, revealing the front clasp of a rather full lace bra. Eydis seemed either totally unaware or totally unconcerned with what she was showing; even as his eyes widened in shock, Terry felt his johnson beginning to react to the unexpected sight.

“I’m fine now, Terry. You said you’d take care of me, and that made all the difference. Thank you.”

Her host swallowed, then placed the mug on the dining nook table. As he turned away to get his own coffee, he said, “You’re welcome, Eydis. You know we’ve been friends for several years now, and coworkers for even longer. Whatever happened tonight, I’ll get you through it.” Pause. “So how do you take your coffee? Milk? Sugar?“

As she reached for the mug, the pale blonde touched her tongue to her splotchy lips. “Black is fine.”

That caught him off guard. Was she flirting with him, fresh on the heels of whatever she’d just been through? It had always been one of his fantasies— but now wasn’t the time to be thinking about that; not while his friend was apparently in some sort of trouble.

He added some half-and-half and a packet of sweetener to his own mug and sat on the bench next to her. They sipped their coffees in silence for a bit: Eydis nonchalantly, and Terry while staring at his mug, trying not to be distracted by her unintentional show of skin.

The last thing he expected was for her to put her half-finished mug on the table, lean over and place her head and hand on his chest. His johnson once again gave a warning throb as he hastily put his own coffee down.

Eydis just lay there, breathing softly, taking in her host’s manly scent. She knew what his next question would probably be, but she wasn’t sure how she was going to answer it. Maybe she should try and kiss him, to delay the inevitable? —But no, that would likely cause more problems, and solve none of them; best to let him get it over with.

“So, um, are you able to talk about what happened?”

And there it was. Keeping her head on his chest, she took a long steadying breath, ending in a deep sigh. “I suppose I have to. You deserve to know.” Since you promised to take care of me now, she thought. Even if you don’t yet know all that it means, or precisely what you’ve gotten yourself— no, what I’ve gotten you into.

“You know Jason Taan, of course.”

Terry nodded. “Your former boss, before he got switched out of our lab and into some secret in-house project. I wasn’t directly under him, but I was still new there at the time. Can’t say I liked him much.”

Her arm stroked his shoulder. “Well, you’re going to like him even less. Or maybe more. Depending on how this goes tonight. I mean today.”

It was Terry’s turn to take a deep breath; her close contact continued to be a distraction. A welcome one, but a distraction nonetheless. “All right, I’m confused. That’s the most self-contradictory statement I think I’ve ever heard you utter.” He tried to lighten the mood. “I thought you were fluent in English?”

“I am,” she chuckled. “Icelandic and French as well. Would you like me to continue in one of those instead?”

“No, no; English is fine. But you’ve still lost me.”

“It’s okay, Mmh-Terry. I’m still getting a handle on this myself.”

Her stutter didn’t go unnoticed. Mmh? he wondered. I wonder what she almost said there. But before he could ask her, Eydis continued.

“Anyway, Mr. Taan was apparently working on a classified program with military applications. Some form of high-tech brainwashing. I don’t know the details, especially as I didn’t exactly volunteer. More like... I was drafted without my prior knowledge or consent. Which I guess was kind of the point.”

She felt Terry’s chest muscles tense, and could only imagine what he was thinking. Probably ways to harm their former coworker, both physically and otherwise; he was a former Marine and a natural protector, which was a big part of the reason she was able to overcome her artificially-induced urges long enough to make her way over there.

Speaking of urges, she snuggled even closer, pressing her generous curves against his wiry frame; it was getting harder and harder to not throw herself at him. Fortunately she could delay the worst of it by continuing to answer his question. Still, a small half-sigh, half-grunt escaped her lips — which once again didn’t go unnoticed. She could only hope that the moisture gathering down below was still her own secret for now.

“Earlier tonight I had the inexplicable urge to dress up and head for a bar downtown that I’d never been to before. How I knew where to find it was the first mystery. That Mr. Taan was waiting for me was the second. Alone, thank goodness; otherwise I probably wouldn’t have been able to break away at all.

“He sat me right next to him, and wouldn’t keep his hands to himself, even as he kept asking me all sorts of intimate and personal questions: about my measurements, my sex life, my dating status, my home arrangement, my income level, my goals, my fantasies. Not only couldn’t I push him away, I felt... compelled to answer honestly, even though I didn’t want to. Not to him, anyway.” She snuggled up against Terry again, and this time her meaning was clear.

“During that time he had ordered us dinner and drinks, so as not to stand out too much I guess. I mean, he was pretty sure I’d be going home with him, and at that point I didn’t have much of a choice. Whatever brainwashing technique he’d used, it appeared to be perfect. But I’m a scientist; if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s to pick apart a premise via experiment.”

Terry brought up his hand to cup her head; she relaxed into it, seeming to welcome the touch as much as he did. “So what did you do?”

Eydis gave a closed-mouth grin; on her makeup-strewn face it looked more like a grimace. “At the end of the evening, he told me to stay there while he settled up. I saw him pay the check, then apparently decide to go to the bathroom. If he’d done it the other way I’d still be there — or more likely, in his bed by now.

“But I realized the condition of that command had been met, so I grabbed my stuff and left. As soon as I was half a block away, I put my hands over my ears and started humming to drown out his voice, since I knew he’d be trying to track me down. It worked, obviously.”

She shuddered. “But here’s the tricky part. As the evening progressed, he’d also given me... orders.”

Terry tensed up again. “Orders? What kind of orders?”

“Many were s-sexual. Others were demeaning. A few of them were... both. The short version is, he managed to convince me that... that being a strong-minded independent woman is a foolish waste; that my primary value to mankind was as a housekeeper, a baby maker and a slut; that I had an uncontrollable compulsion to date and marry outside of my own race and nationality; and most of all, that I absolutely needed to belong — in every sense of the word — to someone who would take care of me.”

“Ah. Aha. That explains our conversation at the door. You, um... belong to me now?“

The blonde gulped and nodded. “I do; you’ve become my m-master. And the only way I made it all the way here in the first place was by focusing on you as the ideal man to take Mr. Taan’s place. Otherwise I would’ve had to go back to him; or worse, become the helpless plaything of the first nonwhite person who told me to do something. Anything.”

Her African-American friend, now her owner, gulped as he processed all this. “So by agreeing to take care of you, I took charge of you.” Eydis nodded. “Is any of this reversible?”

“I don’t think so. Not without access to whatever methods Mr. Taan used, anyway.” She struggled not to continue, unsure of how Terry would use the information.

But in the end, her compulsion to be honest with her new master won out; it was never really a contest. “The best you can do is to modify me to better suit your personal desires; that was a back door that Mr. Taan left in. I guess whatever method he used only has a limited duration, or is very costly or hard to get at or something.”

“Good. So I can tell you right now that you are a worthwhile person, and still a scientist and not a whore, and you have to believe me, right?”

“Yes, sir, and thank you so much for that. But it works only to a point. Mr. Taan was paranoid about rebellion, I guess; so while I’m able to think for myself again, I’m still your pet.” She reached up and cupped his face, finally giving in to her urges and kissing him. “Your slave. Your lover.” She kissed him again, this time forcing her tongue between his closed lips. “Please,” she moaned. “I need this.”

Terry’s johnson was fully engaged now, and he could smell more coming from Eydis than just the coffee on her breath. “So do I,” he admitted. “All right, then. Come with me; this isn’t the place for our first time.”

He led her up the stairs to the first room on the right. Inside was a massive bed, still unmade from Terry’s interrupted sleep half an hour earlier. In the semidark of false dawn, Eydis slipped out of her shirt, unclasped her bra, and yanked down her skirt and everything underneath it while her master and about-to-be lover simply unclasped his robe and slid out of his matching silk boxers.

He lay on the bed, appreciating her nude form: round hips and luscious breasts suited to her six-foot-plus frame. But as she moved to join him, he caught another glimpse of her face and said, “Hold up a moment. The master bath is right over there; go wash off your makeup and take care of anything else you need to, then come join me. I’ll wait.”

Eydis saw the shadow of his rampant erection and knew that he was ready now. That he cared enough about her needs to wait for her brought tears to her mascara-streaked eyes. “Yes, sir,” she whispered as she hustled through the side door and into the largest bathroom she’d ever seen.

She didn’t take the time to appreciate all of it just then; pausing only long enough to shut the door, scrub her face with soap and a wet washcloth, and pee away the night’s alcohol. Then she launched herself from the bathroom directly onto the bed, where Terry was still waiting — and very much still ready.

This time the kiss was mutual, and long lasting; neither one could get enough of the taste of each other. While their tongues dueled, the blonde lined herself up above her dark-skinned lover; her generous breasts pressed into his well-defined chest as her hand wandered downward, guiding his rampant missile into her waiting snatch.

She pressed down, he lifted up; and the next thing they knew, his arms were wrapped around her lower back even as she slid hers under his shoulders. No more words were spoken, but none were needed; his caffeine-fueled johnson stroked in and out of her channel faster and faster, until he grunted and jerked his hips upward, releasing himself deep within her, and triggering her own gasping climax.

And something more. Within the statuesque blonde’s mind, the mutual culmination of the sex act acted as an unbreakable binding contract; deep within her being, Eydis Gisladottir knew that from now on everything she did, everything she was, would be defined in terms of being Terence Rutherford’s possession.

As she drifted off to sleep in her owner’s arms, she was surprisingly okay with that.