The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It was a typical New Year’s Eve in New Jersey—meaning colder than a witch’s nethers. I lit a smoke and pulled my trenchcoat a little tighter.

We have our share of winter in Chrystal Heights, and I know the cure. I went back to my guest room at Count Baronsky’s estate for a word with my buddy, Jim. You might have heard of Jim. He’s a fine Southern gentleman sometimes known as Mr. Beam. He doesn’t say much, but when he speaks, I listen to what he’s saying.

Yeah, I’m a hard guy. You gotta be in my business, if you want to stay in business...and stay alive. The name on the door back at my office reads, “JACK WOLFE—PRIVATE EYE.” My friends call me Jack— at least, they would if I had any friends. I’m still in business and I’m still alive, so I must be good. This gig will never make me rich, but it pays the bills, namely, Bill my bookie and Bill my landlord.

So what the hell was I doing freezing my rocks off in the middle of a New Jersey winter? Solving a murder, that’s what. But this one wasn’t for the sweet sound of greenbacks slapping my palms. This time, it was for the whole enchilada.

Count Frederic Baronsky was dead and I was one of the saps Baronsky tapped to solve his murder. I had known his noble lordship Count Frederic Baronsky back when he was just plain Fred Baron. We had tipped a few, back in our time, and he threw a pretty mean right cross for a scholar. We were pretty tight for a couple guys who didn’t hold hands in the dark, and when he called, I came running.

I had been thinking about the old times when I arrived at the Count’s estate. My reverie had been interrupted by some dame barging into the room. She was easy on the eyes, but something had told me she wasn’t here for the pleasure of my company. I had finally recognized the bird as Suzette, the Count’s main squeeze. I had given her the once over with my eyes before finally saying, “Yeah?”

And that’s when I found out I had gotten there too late to save the mug. But not too late to avenge him. It would be a tough case, but they wouldn’t need me if it was easy. Besides, with the entire estate as the prize for solving the case, I had plenty of motivation. Solve this gig and my broom closet office was a thing of the past.

Jack Wolfe was on the job.

I fortified myself with a slug from the bottle of bourbon I keep for medicinal purposes. I wanted to drown my sorrows in the traditional manner, but I didn’t have time for that. What it was time for was to get some answers. And I knew where I was starting.

Despite a huge staff, there weren’t many suspects. The chef, the chambermaid, and some dolly shacking up in the Count’s bed were all possibles. The other wannabe gumshoes wanted to check them out, and that was fine with me. They were missing the boat, though. To me, one bird stood out: Doctor Sylvia Chase.

She probably thought she could hide behind her title, but that piece of paper didn’t mean beans to me. Dr. Chase could tell me all the stories she wanted, but once I filled her with the juice Suzette had given me, the good doctor was gonna sing like a canary. After that, I’d be sipping cocktails on Easy Street.

I tugged my fedora down tighter and made my way towards her apartment. Questions poured down like the rain. I’d already talked to Suzette and the nurses, and several facts stood out: One, Dr. Chase had a paper-thin alibi for the morning of the murder. Since she was the only one working in the clinic at the time, no one could confirm her actual presence. Two, Dr. Chase had changed shifts specifically to make sure she was working this morning. Three, the doctor was aware that the Count and Suzette were getting married in a week and she was undoubtedly jealous. And four, the doctor was the only one besides the Count and Suzette who had access to the serum, and the antidote.

Dr. Chase had the means, the motive and the opportunity. In my lousy business, that all added up to murder.

The dame who answered the door at the doctor’s room was a tall, good-looking blonde in her late thirties who reeked of money and class. I figured her for Sylvia Chase. She looked like the pushy type. The kind who’d break your heart—or your arms.

“Can I help you?” she said, her voice carrying an aristocratic edge that could frost a mug at twenty paces.

“Yeah,” I said. “I hope so. Are you Dr. Chase?”

Her eyes were blue glaciers. She sniffed and said, “Who wishes to know?”

I gave her my best unimpressed look. “Jack Wolfe, Doctor,” I said, “and I’m here to ask you a few questions about this morning.”

Dr. Chase looked me up and down. She didn’t quite wrinkle her nose; not quite. Finally, she said, “I see.”

“I’m sure you do,” I said. “Can I come in?”

She didn’t budge an inch. “It’s not a good time right now, Mr. Wolfe,” she said. Then she tried to shut the door.

I placed my hand on the door. “Suzette assured me you’d be most cooperative, Dr. Chase,” I said. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint her now, would you?”

I could almost hear the wheels turning. To tell the truth—and I try not to do that more than I have to—I hadn’t wanted to invoke Suzette’s name this quickly, but she had forced my hand. I hadn’t even gotten in the door yet and she was already calling the shots. This dame was good.

“Very well, Mr. Wolfe,” she said, opening the door. “You may enter.”

I strolled in like I owned the place. The furniture was new and the art on the walls was disgustingly tasteful. The whole room displayed the quiet elegance and style that emanated money.

The tall blonde stood with her arms crossed. “So, what is it you need to know, Mr. Wolfe?” she asked.

No offer of a drink, nothing. She wasn’t giving an inch. “Let’s start off with something simple, Doctor,” I said. “Did you kill Count Baronsky?”

Her eyes flashed then, and I was glad we weren’t in the clinic. Too many scalpels there. It was easy to see that Dr. Chase could be dangerous. Strangely enough, it made her beautiful. I like a dame who can handle herself.

“No, Mr. Wolfe,” she said. “I did not kill Count Baronsky.”

“You don’t seem upset, though, doc,” I said. “Are you glad he’s dead?”

Her eyes flashed again. “I prefer to compose myself in the presence of others, Mr. Wolfe,” she said. “I am not going to break down for your entertainment.”

This doll was ice cold. “All right, then,” I said. “Maybe you can explain why you changed your shift at such a suspicious time, doctor?”

“Mr. Wolfe, my reason for that shift change was no secret,” she said. “The Count is... was going to get married and I wished to... say good-bye.”

“Oh, yeah?” I said. “So why can’t anybody confirm this?”

She clenched her teeth. “Because I am discreet, Investigator.”

“Discreet?” I said. “Not so discreet that others haven’t noticed you meeting an unknown man at odd hours of the day.”

Dr. Chase stiffened. “That,” she said, “is my own business, Mr. Wolfe, and none of yours.”

I leaned forward. “A man is dead, Doctor,” I said, “and that makes it my business. And you’re going to help me.”

Dr. Chase set a glass on the table and poured herself a glass of wine. She made a point of not offering me anything. “I fail to see how I can help you, Inspector.”

“For starters,” I said, “you can pull some medical files for me on a number of people here that I have questions about.”

“Other suspects, you mean?” she said.

I gave her a tight grin. “Let’s call them people of interest,” I said.

“I see,” she said. “However you wish to refer to them, however, is inconsequential. That is confidential information, Inspector.”

“I see,” I said.

“So you see, Mr. Wolfe, I cannot help you,” she said.

I picked a chair and sat down. “Dr. Chase, you knew the Count was going to marry Suzette, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Well,” I said, “I bet you didn’t like that, did you?”

“What’s your point, Mr. Wolfe?” she asked.

“Just this, sister,” I said. “I think when you found out the Count was marrying that Suzette bird, you got a little crazy jealous. And you got to thinking, ‘Hey, I been here eight years, completely devoted, and he goes and marries her?’ So maybe you figured, hey… why not hurt him the way he hurt you? So you figured out a way to slip out and off the Count.”

The doctor didn’t turn a single hair. “You have a fertile imagination, Inspector. We both know that it would be impossible for me to kill Fred,” she said. “I don’t find this line of questioning truly relevant. I’m afraid I must ask you to leave.”

On the surface she kind of had a point. Still, if she had gotten juiced with the antidote somehow, she could have waxed my old pal, Fred in a Chrystal Heights heartbeat; and I can tell you, hearts beat pretty damn fast on the tough streets of Chrystal Heights. Still, I could see I wasn’t going to get anywhere with this line of questioning. This dame was tougher than a three-dollar steak. It was time to play my ace.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Chase,” I said, as if I actually was, “but your answers sound a bit too pat to me. I think you’re covering something up.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Mr. Wolfe,” she said. “However, this conversation is over.”

I pulled one of the syringes out of my pocket. “It’s not quite over yet, sister,” I said.

I had made sure this meeting took place in her apartment for several reasons. One of the main reasons, of course, was to keep her away from the scalpels. I don’t like the steel. Scares me more than poison. But the main reason was privacy, so I could do what I now had to do.

It was time to inject her with the Count’s secret control serum.

When she saw the syringe, Dr. Chase finally came to life. The doctor had apparently only been in low-dungeon before this moment, because now she stormed into high-dungeon.

“Where the HELL did you get that?” she said, in a tone that suggested she wanted to fandango on my liver. “Don’t even THINK about trying to bring that anywhere near me!”

I allowed myself a small smile. “I think you need to get on the horn and chat with Suzette, Doc,” I said, “since she said I am empowered to inject anyone—including yourself—with the control serum.”

The doctor was obviously a woman used to being in charge. She was, of course, submissive towards the Count, but that didn’t make her a weak woman in any way. She couldn’t disobey a direct order from Suzette, however, and she knew it. Her mouth a tight straight line, she lifted her telephone from the cradle and dialed a number. A minute later she hung up, and if looks could kill, I would have been pushing up six feet of dirt.

“Very well, Mr. Wolfe,” said the doctor. “Apparently I am expected to provide... full cooperation.”

Dr. Chase looked like she had just gotten her car repossessed. It was time to get the down-low on the other suspects.

“I’m glad we see eye-to-eye now, doc,” I said. “I just know we’re gonna get along fine.”

“Don’t bait me, Inspector,” she said. “What do you need?”

I leaned back in my chair. “I need those medical records, doc.”

Dr. Chase clenched her teeth. “Fine,” she said. “Whose records do you require?”

I gave her the names. She lifted the telephone and dialed a number.

“Janis?” she said. “It’s Sylvia. I need you to pull some files and have someone bring them to my room.”

She listened for a moment, then said, “Yes, I know it’s irregular. It’s out of my hands, however.” She then recited the names and hung up.

“They should be here shortly, Mr. Wolfe,” she said.

“While we wait,” I said, “Why don’t you tell me your thoughts on the possible guilty party.”

“I don’t have any, Inspector,” said the doctor. “As far as I know, everyone here is completely devoted to the Count. Everyone. They have to be.”

“I’m sure,” I said. “How about someone who isn’t here anymore. Could an old employee with a grudge have wanted to harm Fred?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” paused the doctor. “but...”

I leaned forward. “Go on,” I said. “But what?”

“Well,” she said, “I don’t know if there is a connection, but I do remember that there was a particular girl who was released several years ago.”

“What about her?” I asked.

“I don’t know if it means anything,” she said, “but she greatly resembled one of the girls whose files you asked for. If I remember right, they also shared a name. It may be a coincidence.”

There was a knock then, and Dr. Chase walked to the door. She returned a minute later with several files in her hands.

“The files are here, Inspector,” she said. “I took the liberty of asking the delivery person to return with the file of the released slave I was just speaking of as well.”

I took the files and nodded. “Thank you, doctor,” I said. “I’ll go over these later. Just give me the Reader’s Digest condensed version for now.”

“Fine,” she grated. “What do you want to know?”

I flipped open the top file. “How about Asuna Saw...Sawa...Saw-”

“Sawagachi,” supplied the doctor. “We call her Anna. She’s the chef.”

I looked at Anna’s picture and grinned. There was something lovely on display there. It wasn’t Picasso, but it was just as interesting. “Nice set of guns on this one, doc.”

“Yes,” replied Chase dryly, “her breasts are distinctively large, in the G-cup range, I’d estimate. Blood type is A-positive. No birthmarks or scars. I recently gave her a B1 shot. She’s in the middle of some tests.”

“Yes, from your office notes, I see you were trying to get an appointment for her at the Medical School,” I said.

“Yes,” said the doctor, “for an MRI. I even gave her a consent form to expedite the process.”

“Why the MRI?” I asked.

“I have... concerns.”

“Sore back from carrying those?”

Dr. Chase’s mouth tightened. “No, Mr. Wolfe,” she said. “Anna may have a brain tumor.”

Oh. Whoops. Still, interesting. A woman who thinks she may be dying is often angry. Very angry. The kind of angry where other people die. After all, they reason they have nothing to lose.

“Right,” I said. “Okay, how about Lydia Boyle? There’s not much here.”

“I don’t have much information on Lydia, Inspector,” said the doctor. “I believe she’s the Executive Secretary. Blood type is O-negative. One fairly significant scar across her lower abdomen. Little else.”

“A scar?” I said. “Like a knife wound?”

“I couldn’t say, Inspector,” said Chase, “but that hardly seems likely. It appears to be the result of a serious injury, but not a knife. By the look of the scar, the wound appears to have been treated surgically. It was not performed by me, however.”

I nodded and filed that one away. A mysterious injury and operation could be significant. “And this one, ah, Lilly Boyle?” I said.

Dr. Chase shrugged. “That’s Lydia’s sister. She works as a chambermaid. Blood type is O-negative. No birthmarks or scars. She received a B1 shot recently, but is in good health otherwise.”

I nodded. “Fair enough, doc. How about this last one?”

“That,” she said, “would be Doctor Sylvia Chase. Blood type is A-negative. No birthmarks, scars or distinguishing body marks.”

“Really, doc?” I asked.

“Really,” said the doctor. “Were you perhaps expecting a battleship tattoo on my rear end?”

“Well, maybe not a battleship,” I said, “but they’re doing nice things with tramp stamps these days.”

Doctor Chase did not look amused. An ice-cold dame, this one.

“All right,” I said, taking out the syringe, “it’s show time.”

“Fine,” she said. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Bend over, sweetheart,” I said.

The tall blonde clenched her teeth. “Mr. Wolfe,” she said, “an injection in the shoulder will suffice. There is no need to utilize a hip placement.”

“I know,” I said, “but it’s more fun that way.”

Her reply would have made a Darkview bouncer blush. She turned around, however, and tugged down the waistband of her skirt.

I pulled out the other two syringes in my pocket. I now had a total of three syringes in my hands.

“Any day now, Mr. Wolfe,” said the doctor, looking over her shoulder.

I made a decision. I turned away so the doctor couldn’t see which syringe I chose. I put the other two back into my pocket. Then I slid the needle into the doctor’s bared hip.

She barely flinched. After I pulled the needle out, she tugged her skirt back into place. A modest dame. Then she looked at me.

“What were all those needles for, Mr. Wolfe?” she asked, in a too-casual way.

I patted the pocket on my trench coat. “A little test, doc,” I said. “Pretty simple, really. You see, your story has more holes than a Chrystal Heights Southside tenement wall.”

The doctor clenched her teeth. “I assure you that...”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “I know. You’re too ‘devoted’ to the Count, yada yada yada. Well, doc, we’ll see how well your story holds up now. How do you feel?”

“I feel fine, Mr. Wolfe,” she said. “You did inject me with the serum, correct?”

I shrugged. “Hey, what do I know about giving shots, doc?” I said. “I’m just an average Joe trying to make a buck in this world, ya know? I don’t know medicine like you.”

Her eyes flashed again. “Mr. Wolfe, must you be so abrasive?”

I shrugged again. “Hey, I’m just the little guy here,” I said. “I’m not the high-brow lady you are.” Then I took a cigarette out of my pack and slid it between my lips.

Dr. Chase’s eyes widened. “Don’t you DARE light that thing in here!” she said.

“Oh, sorry, Doc,” I said. “I should be a gentleman.” I held the pack out, a single cigarette extended towards her.

A whole range of emotions crossed her face at once. She obviously wasn’t used to the type of outright obnoxiousness I was projecting towards her. I had a reason for the way I was acting, but telling her would have defeated the whole process.

“If you think for a moment that I think you’re funny, Inspector,” she said, “then you’re... you’re...”

“I’m what, sweetheart?”

Her eyes closed and she began to breathe deeply, her lips slightly parted. “You’re...” she said, her voice trailing off.

I nodded. The good doctor was right on schedule. “All right, Sylvia,” I said. “How do you feel?”

“I feel fine,” she said, not noticing my informal use of her first name. Her voice was serene.

She had passed the first test so far. I had baited her the best I could to keep her riled. Despite that, she had become very docile within the correct time period. If the doctor was faking it, she was doing it with excellent timing.

“Good,” I said. “Now, listen to me carefully. All your devotion for the Count has been transferred to me...” Then I thought about what I was saying. Bad choice of words. She might be the one who offed the Count. “You are completely devoted to me. My wish is your command. You always tell me the truth to every question I ask. I excite you physically and mentally. You live to please me, both sexually and otherwise. I put the schizzle in your dizzle...”

All right, so I’ve never structured a girl to be my slave before. I just threw in everything I could think of... even the friggin’ kitchen sink. It might have been irrelevant at any rate. If she had gotten the antidote inside her before now, then I was taking a leak against the wind anyway. It might not work until she had my cum leaking out of her either. Still, if the doctor hadn’t used the antidote before, she was gonna be a hot little pistol for me once that happened. And, more importantly, she was going to help me solve the murder.

I did make sure she was set to keep her intelligence intact. Hey, she was a doctor, all right? Of course, she had been looking down on me since I had walked into her place, so yeah, turning her into a dizzy bimbo had its appeal. In fact, if I got to hold on to the bird after this gig, I might even get in touch with Mystic Benny back in the Heights. Benny is the best source of black market spells I know, and the berk owes me a favor. So with the right scroll or two, I’d have me a gorgeous secretary who knew how to help Jack relax at the end of the day. Until then, though, I needed the doctor to keep her wits about her.

I went on for several minutes, just the way Suzette had instructed me. By the time I was done, I figured the doc would be putty in my hands. Assuming, of course, she really was under the influence of the serum. Still, whether she was faking or not, I was going to enjoy the next part.

“All right, sweetheart,” I said, “it’s time for the bonding.”

“Bonding,” she murmured.

“That’s right, doc,” I said, “bonding.”

She shifted then, and her hips undulated a little. It was just a little thing, but suddenly the Doc—who had been ice cold during the whole interview—suddenly the Doc was a woman, and she was pure heat.

Now, I’m a professional, but the sight of her, laying there, breathing deep, her eyes half-closed, looking at me like something delicious to eat... hey, I’m only human, alright? I’m not a statue. My tool got hard like someone dipped the thing in cement.

“All right, Sylvia,” I said, “take off your clothes now.”

“Yes,” she murmured, “take off my clothes.”

She stood up then and began to strip off her clothing with slow, methodical movements. As her clothing was removed, I could see more and more of her, and her body was spectacular. I mean, if this dame was any hotter, the whole room would be on fire.

When she was finally stripped, she just stood there, barefoot and naked. She was a doctor, with a potent brain and medical knowledge beyond anything I could conceive. But looking at her right then, her MD didn’t mean beans. She had a body built for sin.

“All right, sweetheart,” I said. “Get on your knees now.”

The doctor dropped to her knees, her eyes still half-lidded. I took two steps forward and stood in front of her.

“All right, Sylvia,” I said, the moment of truth at hand. “Unzip my pants and take out my cock.”

This would be interesting. I had seen a lot of stuff in the Heights. You can’t work the Heights unless you’re ready to see some crazy shit. But watching a brainiac dame with more letters behind her name than actually in her name kneeling naked in front of me with some brain-capturing juice flowing through her veins was new to me.

“Sylvia,” I said, “take my cock out and use your mouth on it.”

My heart sped up a little. If Suzette was wrong, this bird was going to be pretty cheesed off with me...and my favorite toy was going to be in her mouth.

The doctor reached out and unzipped my pants. She pulled out my cock and looked at it for a moment. Then she leaned forward and slid her tongue along the sensitive bottom of my shaft.

Lights went off in my skull as that arrogant doctor began to work my cock with her mouth. She wasn’t an expert, but she obviously knew her way around the occasional hard one. She was beginning to show signs of really heating up, though, so I knew it was time to get back to work.

“All right, sweetheart,” I said, pushing her head back. “You can stop for now.”

She resisted my push briefly, her lips wrapped tight around my cock. Then she fell back.

“But… but… I want…” she said.

“I know you do, doll,” I said, “but I want some answers first.”

The doctor wriggled. “Can’t we… just… do it first?”

I gestured toward my rock hard cock. “If you want some of this, you’re gonna need to deliver the goods, sister.”

She pouted then, and the bird was good. Beautiful, too. I was tempted to finish her right then. But I had a job to do.

“Now, Doctor, tell me,” I said, and it was time for the million dollar question, “did you kill the Count?”

Her lower lip was still out. She shook her head. “No, I didn’t.”

I looked at her closely, watching for any sign that she was anything other than enamored by me. “Did you arrange for the Count to die?” I asked.

“No,” she said, in a breathy voice that reminded me of cold beer on a warm New Orleans night.

She was claiming she didn’t do it. Interesting. Still, if she didn’t do it, then where was she when she was supposedly doing the horizontal mambo with the Count? I needed to know, so I asked her.

“Where did you go the morning you traded your shift?”

“I was sleeping with Fred,” she sighed

Well, damned if she wasn’t telling the truth. Of course if she had taken the antidote.. and then, of course, there was the matter of that man she had been seeing.

“Who was the man you were seen with?”

“Which man?” she asked.

“The man you were seen meeting with,” I said.

“Oh, the meeting last week,” she said.

This was taking all day. Was she stalling, or was she just pretending to be under the effects of the serum? She was getting very antsy now, and her eyes were glued to my cock. It was going to become very difficult to get answers from her soon.

“Yes. Tell me who you were meeting with and why,” I said.

Her hips wriggled and she wrung her hands as she talked. “I met with a man from the McKenzie Pharmaceuticals,” she said. “They provide many of the ingredients we use for the serum and the antidote.”

“What was the purpose of this meeting?” I asked

“I was letting him know that we were cutting back on our order.”

“Wouldn’t that be something that Suzette would handle?”

“Normally, but since I had a rapport with the man, and Suzette was busy with the ball, I did it for her,” she replied.

“Did the Count or Suzette know about this?” I asked.

“No, but when they told me about their plans, they mentioned that this needed to happen, so I did it,” she said, her voice taking on a groggier tone.

Her answers bothered me, so I hit her with a shot to the gut.

“Are you sure the meeting wasn’t a little business proposition to sell the recipe for the serum?” I said.

“No,” she said, her fingers trailing along my inner thigh. She sounded distracted. “I could never do that to the Count. I couldn’t betray him. I just couldn’t.”

This all sounded too pat. If she had somehow gotten the antidote into her, this dame was trying to play me for a patsy.

But…

If she really was still under the influence of the serum, she obviously couldn’t have betrayed Fred. There was a lot to consider right now, but I was shaken from my thoughtful stupor by a loud moan. I looked up and the doctor leaned forward, her hand on my thigh.

“Please…” she said. Her eyes were earnest, pleading.

If she was faking it, she was doing a superlative job of it. And I was only human.

“Turn around,” I said, “and bend over.”

Doctor Sylvia Chase, MD, PhD, and probably 34DD, squealed as she whirled around and bent over, her spectacular ass raised high in display for me.

I stepped forward and placed my hands on her perfectly curved hips. My cock—still hard from her earlier blowjob—slid effortlessly into her wetness. And then suddenly I was screwing her silly.

I stroked my shaft into the doctor again and again. My balls were heavy with cum, and I knew when I went off, it was going to be a hell of an explosion.

“Sylvia,” I gasped, “I’m about to cum. You know what’s going to happen when I do, right?”

“Yessss… yessssss!” she said.

“Here it comes!” I said. “Oh, come, all ye faithful!

She moaned and wriggled under my hands as my cock hardened even more and suddenly began filling her with my potent bonding sperm. I continued stroking into her as my balls emptied my seed into her writhing wet heat. Her hips shuddered in my hands as I imagined the serum completing the process, turning the arrogant doctor into the beautiful sex goddess I desired.

If she was faking, she was doing a spectacular job of it. If she wasn’t, though, I had pegged the wrong suspect. I wouldn’t know until I checked with Paul, a McKenzie Limo driver. He was well liked, so he drove all the mucky-mucks and VIP’s. Paul was also an old drinking buddy and owed me big for saving his ass on a number of occasions. As he always had his ear to the ground and his eye through the keyhole, the nosy son-of-a-bitch would know what was going on there. And if she wasn’t faking it, I had just gotten myself the hottest friggin’ secretary ever. So, even if I didn’t get the whole Baronsky enchilada, the soft taco would do just fine.

Like I told you earlier, I’m a hard guy. You gotta be in this business.