The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Mister Talv didn’t have time to act on Takeshi’s email immediately, although it was on his mind. Sergei was in Tallinn that evening, and he needed to make sure Sisyphus was displayed to best effect, before dealing with Helena. He wandered down through the multi-story labyrinth of his building, and down the stairs to the Secret Garden to see how she was getting on.

The Secret Garden was a true indoor garden. He’d tried to create the sense of being in the middle of an ancient, nameless forest from the Old Country; a forest of myths, just like the old stories. Trees and undergrowth, brambles and briars, crowded in from the sides. Amidst the foliage, there were strange and exotic flowers, and the ceiling was a beautifully executed a trompe-l’oeil of sunset. Mister Talv enjoyed spending time here.

Takeshi—Sisyphus—was shackled into a large wooden chair-like structure, spotlit in a clearing right in the middle of the room. Two manacles at either end of a crossbar at the top of the tall back of the chair held her wrists; the legs of the chair were widely spaced and at the end of another crossbar near the floor, maybe four feet apart, were two more manacles holding her ankles.

An innocent observer would have seen her sheened with sweat; writhing, squirming, spasming, back arched and head thrown back, moaning in the heat of an endless climax, and they might have wondered what on earth was driving the woman to such ecstasy. Mister Talv knew that Blodeuwedd’s Perch was simply doing its relentless work, a single thick shaft working on her from below, in an indefatigable rhythm that never stopped and never quite repeated. He was very pleased he’d commissioned it, and even more pleased with the extra detailing that made it seem as if it was simply growing out of the floor; twisted wood, like trees intertwined, were wrapped around by what looked like authentic vines. It looked like a natural part of the scenery.

He watched her for a while. Looking at Sisyphus, he was reassured; he was fairly sure Sergei would bite when he saw her.

He walked past Blodeuwedd’s Perch, tweaking one of the woman’s nipples in passing, and headed for the door in the corner of the huge tree-filled room. The metal door was simply labelled ‘escape’, as were all the corresponding doors on every floor. Another set of stairs, and down into the disquieting fractal maze of the hall of mirrors.

Mister Talv was suddenly everywhere; dark hair and green eyes were looking back at him from every angle. Perspectives and reflections seemed to shift and rotate around him; reflections of reflections of reflections all round. It was deliberately disorienting, and it was easy for other people to get lost here, he knew. That was the point. He, of course, never got lost.

He navigated carefully to the clearing where he knew he would find the cage, and there was Helena, exactly where he’d left her, looking at him accusingly with her large brown eyes.

He was a little disappointed in Helena. However, he had a good idea how to get her back on track.

He approached the almost invisible mirror-cage. The bars shimmered like a mirage.

“Are you ready for the next stage?” he said.

The woman bridled, and jumped up to her feet. She stood, gripping the bars of the cage. She was very beautiful, thought Mister Talv, who considered himself quite a connoisseur of such matters. Helena had a tall, lean, athletic frame, and her olive Latin skin set off flashing brown eyes and a luxuriant tangle of almost black hair. Her breasts were magnificent.

“I keep telling you, Mister Talv! You’ve got the wrong woman, here. Nobody keeps me in a cage!” She was shouting again, he observed wearily, and it distorted her beautiful features. But it looked as if her heart wasn’t really in it, which was encouraging. And she was calling him ‘Mister Talv’ now. Good.

“Really?” he murmured. “You’ve enjoyed yourself so far, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but—“

“Very well. No cage, this evening.” He stepped forward and, pulling a small mirrored key from his pocket, unlocked the cage. “Let’s go downstairs instead. I have a present for you.”

Helena did not protest—another fact signifying progress, he thought—and she followed him through the mirror maze and down the stairs to the level below. As he unlocked the door to the fourth floor, he wondered what she was thinking. No way to tell, really.

Mister Talv had spotted Helena a few weeks back, dancing in her uninhibited Latin way in a music club he liked to go to sometimes on the Lower East Side. Her bright and inviting smile had drawn him, and later, when he’d asked her what she wanted—what she really wanted, deep down, that she’d never told anyone—she’d said she just wished life wasn’t so damn complicated. She just wanted to live spontaneously, passionately; to be able to follow her instincts and impulses without constraint. To be free of society’s expectations.

This had been music to Mister Talv’s ears, and before long he’d invited her to fly with him from New York to Tallinn, and her inevitable progress towards purity of impulse had begun.

He pushed the door open, looking out into blackness. Helena gasped, and turned to him.

“It’s like looking into space,” she exclaimed.

“Yes. I call this floor The Void.” He ushered her into the room. “No distractions. No complications. No light, no sound, no nothing. A place of contemplation.”

The Void swallowed his words; the padded black anechoic walls were completely absorbent. The soft floor was the same material, as was the ceiling. The light from the doorway illuminated Helena’s beautiful face, but cast no shadow on the floor.

“The ultimate in simplicity,” he added. He urged her further in, towards the centre of The Void. Their footsteps made no sound at all.

Helena turned in the darkness, lost in wonder. Mister Talv knew that The Void had an instantly calming effect on everybody, along with other effects.

“And I almost forgot. A present. I call it the Necklace of Harmonia.”

Helena turned the object over in her hands. “It’s beautiful.”

“A legend: the ill-fated House of Thebes. Hephaestus, a trickster of note,” said Mister Talv, “and blacksmith of the Olympian gods, discovered his wife Aphrodite having an affair of the heart. He wasn’t pleased at all. He vowed vengeance. Hephaestus gave Harmonia, Aphrodite’s daughter, an exquisite necklace. He’d made it himself. The magical necklace allowed any woman to remain eternally beautiful, and much else besides, although it often ended badly for them thanks to Hephaestus’s curse. Take the story of Jocasta and Oedipus!”

“So you’re cursing me, are you, Mister Talv?” she said quietly, her words gulped down by The Void. Her eyes were bright in the dim light from the doorway. He saw her face was flushed and her pupils were dilated.

“Not at all. It’s a blessing in disguise. Please, allow me.” She bent her head to him, and he clasped the necklace gently around her neck. She shuddered with pleasure at its touch.

He adjusted a few settings on the Necklace of Harmonia, stepped back, and looked at Helena. Her eyes were slightly unfocussed now, as he expected. She was still and quiet, although her lips moved slightly, silently mouthing words. He waved a hand gently in front of her face, and her eyes tracked it for a moment.

The Void was not a silent place at all, Mister Talv knew, because he had designed it himself. The room was awash with subsonics. It was suffused with voices below the threshold of human hearing, murmuring on unheard frequencies; certain key resonances which the human body could not help responding to automatically. The room spoke to the body, through unheard and unfelt sounds, and the body could not help listening.

The Necklace did one thing and one thing only, by amplifying and harmonising certain of the unheard voices, and it did that one thing very well indeed.

As he watched Helena, her hand went to her pussy and she began to stroke herself, her other hand moving to her breasts. He could see the nipples on her wonderful breasts were engorged. She was becoming lost in herself already.

Mister Talv knew that the legends were true: a woman was never so beautiful than when she was wearing the Necklace of Harmonia.

Soon, he knew, she would lose herself ever further. She would lie down in the dark silence of The Void, gently stroking herself to a climax, over and over again. Subsonic alpha wave rhythms would calm and lull any lingering thoughts. And there would be nothing at all to distract her, here in The Void; there would only be Helena and Helena’s pleasure, for as long as it took, lost in her very own one-woman universe. There was nothing else to think about, in The Void, no senses or stimuli to be had. Touch was the only thing, and after a while touch would be the only sense that would matter. The mind would never hear the voices, but the body could not help but respond.

Simplicity. Freedom. Instinct and impulse. Exactly as requested.

He made a few tiny adjustments to the settings on the Necklace, and heard Helena’s breath quicken in response. Satisfied, he gently pushed Helena a few steps deeper into The Void, walked out, and locked the door behind him.