The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The man stepped out of a cab a block away from the tower. He seemed very careful with the briefcase in one hand. The expensive suit was of the latest style, but he did not seem to wear it well. Fingers tugged at the collar and tie as if tempted to loosen them. He stared into a window for several minutes while muttering what seemed to be encouragement. His walk was stiff and nervous when he walked to the front foyer of the condominium tower. The concierge at the security desk looked up at the man with dirty brown hair who touched the icon on a touchscreen for the intercom.

“Mr., uh, Fremont from Dundas and Barnes.” A business card was held up to the glass. “I am here to see Ms. Bellemont about some matters regarding her trust.”

Oksana dozed in the kitchen. She had not had a chance to go to bed last night. Miss had come home very late with friends from the clubs. At least, Miss called them friends. Oksana had never seen them before. She would likely not see them ever again. Miss had had her serving and cleaning up until the last of the “friends” had stumbled out of the penthouse. By the time she had finished righting the chaos, she would have had to have awoken an hour before to start her regular duties. Best just to shower and catch a nap in a fresh uniform.

A chime came from the earpiece tucked in one ear. It was like those cellphone ones that let people talk without holding their mobiles. Oksana was not allowed one. Miss had no regular phones, just a smartphone. A strangled voice spoke for a few second. It was the usual order from Miss after one of her parties: very strong espresso, a jug of orange juice mixed with some champagne, and a light salad. Yawning, Oksana busied herself preparing the meal.

She examined her appearance in the shiny door leading to the walk-in freezer. Miss insisted she always be neat and tidy. The black-and-white maid’s uniform was fit well. There were no creases or stains Miss might fault her for. Her rounded peasant’s features looked exhausted. There were faint rings beneath her blue eyes. It could not be helped. Oksana patted a few stray strands of golden hair back into her bun. She straightened the starched white lace headpiece pinned above her brow. Only when she was sure she was presentable did she carry the tray upstairs.

Miss was sprawled out on the couch in nothing but a robe. It did not hide anything. She was all long legs and tight body and everything like the models Oksana had seen in the magazines snuck into the orphanage. Long auburn hair was flung over the armrest. Miss’ green eyes were half-lidded from the drink and other things she did. Even like this, she was so much more prettier than Oksana. Miss grunted once when Oksana laid the tray nearby. Only when she drained the little espresso cup in one gulp did she speak.

“I don’t pay you enough,” Miss said.

Oksana stayed quiet about Miss not paying her anything.

“Is there anyone left?” Miss smiled with perfect teeth when Oksana shook her head. “Last girl standing. Hand me that blunt, will you?”

“Bl—” Oksana searched until she found the hand-rolled cigarette. “This is blunt, yes?”

“Right, I forgot you were from Buttfuckinsti, Russia.”

“Moldova, miss.”

“Yeah.” Miss inhaled deeply after she lit the blunt. She sipped her orange juice. “You think I am partying now? Wait one more year until I turn 21 and get all of grandaddy’s money free of the trust.”

“Of course, Miss,” Oksana said.

“None of this having to go to uni or the other bullshit,” Miss said.

“It might be nice to go to school,” Oksana murmured.

“It’s stupid. At least I just have to take a couple of classes.” Miss blinked when a ringtone came from within the couch. “Phone, where, where’s my fucking—Yes? Mr. Fremont? Never heard of him? Wait, he said changes to to trust? Send him up.”

“Miss has visitor?” Oksana asked.

“Miss has a guy who is going to open the taps.” The robe fluttered to the floor. “Stall him for, uh, thirty. I’m going to need that long to freshen.”

Oksana caught the silk robe that Miss tossed aside. The maid frowned at how skinny Miss was. Oksana knew it was because she was a fat girl. She hadn’t thought she was, after not eating so good growing up in the orphanage. But Miss had been almost kind when she had told Oksana that she should lose weight to be like her. Oksana felt herself through the uniform. Maybe someday, her ribs might show like Miss. That was what was beauty in the West.

The penthouse apartment that Miss’ family provided for her would have been a nice house back in Moldova. The second floor was where Miss partied and lived. It was all glass and light with a wonderful view of the city beyond. Oksana hoped someday she might step outside the building to walk the streets. She couldn’t without the papers that would stop the immigration men from sending her home. That would be bad. The men who had bought her from the orphanage might take her again.

The floor below was divided into two parts. In the center were the parts that Miss did not bother with—the little room with its own bath where Oksana lived, the laundry room, the kitchen, and other such things. The entry hall was the second half. It would have been a big flat back home. Oksana hurried to gather some things to greet the guest. It sounded like a lawyer. They often came around. Miss was always shouting to them about the money. The money was like a person to Miss. Oksana wondered sometimes if Miss hated or loved the money. Sometimes, it seemed both.

The light above the doors shone. The elevator had arrived. Oksana opened the pale-blonde doors just as the elevator doors slide aside. The lawyer was here. Oksana frowned when he came in. He was not as old as the others she had seen. He was maybe a few years older than Oksana and Miss. He seemed more like a student who worked with computers or such. People like that were sometimes in Miss’ parties, the ones from the valley out in California. They were not so comfortable in Miss’ world. He had a nice smile, though, when he saw her.

“Would sir like me to take his coat?” Oksana asked.

“That would be great,” the lawyer said, handing it to her.

“Miss will be ready in a half-hour.” Oksana hung his coat into the guest closet. “Would sir like something to drink? We have juice, water, and, ah—”

“What’s wrong?”

“Just forgot word.” Oksana rubbed her head. “Mean, like, fizzy drink.”

“You must mean soda,” the lawyer said. “You look pretty tired.”

“It is alright.” Oksana wobbled in her low heels as she opened the hidden minifridge.

“Water would be great,” the lawyer said. “And then you should sit down.”

“I am supposed to stand when serving, sir,” Oksana said.

“Sit down, that’s an order.” The lawyer smiled. “I won’t tell She Who Must Be Obeyed if you won’t.”

“Ha. Funny name. Miss not like that.” Oksana collapsed into a chair next to him. “I—I nap little, you wake me if she come?”

“Sure.” The lawyer reached into his pocket. “Here. Something to help you relax.”

“Wha—” Something sticky pressed to the back of her neck.

“Shhhh. It is just a patch.” The lawyer’s voice sounded so far away. “Just lie back and relax. What’s your name?”

“Ok-Ok—” She could not move her mouth well. “‘Sa-naaaaaaah.”

“Like the figure skater. Pretty name.” The lawyer caressed her cheek. “Is it just the two of you and Miss? You were the only servant I saw in the background of the pics from her parties.”

“Only me and Miss.” Oksana slumped deeper in the chair.

“Thank god, I only planned for two,” the lawyer said. “So you just rest that pretty head of yours.”

Pretty.

He thought she was pretty.

Then there was only darkness.

Oksana had never been to the beach. She had only seen pictures in magazines of models in places like Greece or the islands near America. But she had often dreamed of being on the beach like those lovely women. This was the best such dream of them all. Oksana lay on the fluffiest towel in the world on sand like felt like clouds. The sun was warm on her body without it burning her skin. Oksana kept her eyes closed as she listened to the waves.

The waves crashed onto the beach. She giggled when the surf tickled her soles. It sent nice shivers up her body. They traveled up her legs to the special place between them and then to her nipples. Just like Magda had touched her before the matron had caught them. That had been the start of the Bad Times. But Oksana did not have to think about those. She had to empty her pretty head and relax. She had to relax. The waves almost seemed to speak to her.

Relax.

Don’t fight.

My voice is joy.

My voice is that of your Master.

You are happy giving in to Master.

You feel very safe around Master.

Oksana could lie here in the sun and listen to the whispers forever. But all dreams ended. The beach faded away as her eyes blinked open. She sat up and stretched. Where was she? This was not her room. Searching fingers found narrow walls and brushed hangers above. Folded up underneath her was the lawyer’s coat. My Master. Oksana caught herself rubbing her face in the fabric to catch His smell. She was in the closet. She blushed. How shameful Miss would be so angry. She must have crawled in here to hide.

Oksana fumbled with the headband she found around her head. Blue eyes still glazed over from sleep touched the stretchy material. Inside there were two metal pads that might go on her temples. On either side of her head were earphones that covered her ears. Wave sounds still came through them. Where had these come from? Oksana shrugged . Not important. She unplugged the wires connecting them to a box beside her. She stowed them in the pockets of her white apron.

She had to serve Master work to do.