The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Elsa Bianca was a somewhat thin woman of average height with short, blonde hair and large, pale blue eyes. She was from Germany so she could not help having some curves and frail looking skin, which singled her out amongst the far better tanned inhabitants of France where she currently lived.

Elsa’s dream had been to become an artist and when she was offered an opportunity to go to school in Paris things were looking up for her. At last she could pursue the life she had always wanted. However, things do not always work as we plan and when her funds ran low her dream began to fall apart.

Two years later she found herself a bleak young barmaid in a gentleman’s club on the south side of the city. She didn’t enjoy the work or the atmosphere but it paid for her education and at least for now she had not been forced to be a dancer.

One night at precisely an hour before closing time, long after all the regular patrons had stumbled out, she had been wiping down the tables in order to close a bit early when a new face walked in through the glass doors of the club.

He was tall, very tall, and the reddish brown hair atop his boyishly sculpted face was styled in a manner reminiscent of some hair band refugee if a bit more fair with the clothes of an equally eccentric throwback to the Renaissance. His winged eyebrows of the same color sat atop two haunting green eyes that made her stop in her tracks.

Elsa laid down, well dropped, her washrag onto the table and stood to greet the customer, “Good evening Sir and welcome to Chateau de Amore; I’m afraid you’ve missed the live entertainment, but may I offer you something to eat? The entry fee is five franc and any prices for foods are covered on our menu.”

The man simply shook his head with a whimsical smile and approached her, reaching into a pouch hanging at his side. Elsa stood tense with apprehension for a moment until he pulled out the five franc as asked and laid them on the table for her before walking to a clean seat and sitting down in a relaxed position.

Elsa really had no idea what to do with this character; he wasn’t asking for anything so there was no way to serve him unless… maybe he was a deaf? Trying her best to remember what the boss had taught in case of such an emergency, Elsa managed her best attempt to sign, “May I get you anything Sir?” The man smiled wider and signed right back, “No, I am fine, thank you.” Apparently he heard her the first time.

With no means by which to entertain the patron, Elsa simply went about her work, hoping secretly that he would either ask for something or leave: his presence was unnerving to her and she couldn’t put her finger on just why.

As the remainder of the hour passed by in tense silence, Elsa would occasionally glance up at the stranger, studying him. He was by no means lacking in physical beauty, and oddly enough, his elective muteness only added to his intriguing charisma.

Finally, the clock struck one a.m. and it was closing time. Elsa thought she might have to call the constable at this point, but it was not to be. As quietly as he had come in, the figure in question stood up and walked to the exit, opening the door to leave. However, just before he did, he turned back to Elsa who had been staring for a few moments now, smiled pleasantly, and waved. Then he was gone out the door.

Elsa went home that night in a daze of questions. Who was that man? Why was he so pleasant yet so disturbing at the same time? She entered her apartment and locked the door behind her, still afraid he might be a stalker. She got undressed and crept into her bed alone as always. She tried to put the man out of her mind as she drifted off.

The next evening, at the exact same time as before, the man entered the club again. Elsa walked up to him this time but stopped at about three feet away when she saw his eyes again: those eyes could stop a speeding car. “M-may I get you anything tonight, Sir”, she managed to stammer out. As before, he shook his head silently and reached into his pocket, pulling out the five francs and handing them to her before he took his seat in a comfortable booth.

Elsa shook it off and regained her composure, getting back to work. She would glance at the man from time to time. This time he had brought a satchel with him the like of which an art student like herself might carry. Even more surprising was when he opened it and took out a sketchpad and three pencils in white, gray, and black shades.

Normally such behavior isn’t even worthy of note, but it was a sign of life and from this guy that meant something as far as Elsa was concerned. As she scrubbed down the bar, she tried her best to sneak glances at him without attracting his attention. As she looked at the enigmatic customer once more, she was shocked to discover that as he sketched he was looking directly at her!

Elsa’s heart skipped a beat, and not in a good way. She was too stunned to move and their eyes met for a long moment, as she remained paralyzed with the mixed anticipation and anxiety of what he might do next.

The man, on the other hand, remained in casual pose albeit a studious one, sketching so fast that it was audible. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to Elsa, the man ripped the paper from the pad and held it up to the light, admiring his work.

Elsa couldn’t take the suspense any longer. Cautiously, she made her way over to his table and turned to stare at the picture. It was her all right, but not in the same pose she had just been. Even more stunning was the pose she was in; it was the very same stance she had taken when she first laid eyes on him the night before.

Elsa flushed across the cheeks and tried her best to make conversation, “It’s beautiful. You have a rare talent Sir.” Her breath quickened as she finished.

“Something is out of place,” the man spoke calmly. Something about his voice reminded her of chimes. She turned to look at him questioningly as he studied the picture. Finally, he spoke again, “M’hmm, I know what it is. The background doesn’t suit you at all. Completely out of place.”

Elsa didn’t know what to say, but she was a bit insulted at the comment. “I’m not sure what you mean ‘out of place’. It’s where I make a living”, she hastily retorted.

The man stood up abruptly, his eyes holding her in place as he spoke, “I assume you work here because you aspire to be a world-class barmaid someday?”

Now he had done it. Elsa turned beat red and pouted her lips, “What manners you have, walking into a dinner club and not even ordering anything to eat! And for that matter, what gives YOU the right to analyze my lifestyle? The jury’s still out on you.”

The man had a very simple reply, “You’d love me if you knew me.”

Elsa crossed her arms and raised a brow, “Humble aren’t we?”

The man smiled pleasantly, “I apologize for my remark. It was rude of me to give you my opinion when it was not asked for. I know you must be very busy with your work, but you did ask if I wanted anything and I have decided what I want. I would like to sit and talk about art with you if that is acceptable.”

Elsa was genuinely impressed: this guy didn’t skip a beat. “Well that’s more like it. I do have to close soon, but I’m sure I can talk for a moment,” she said, sitting beside him, “You know I’m not just a fan of art. I am a painter in my spare time.”

The man nodded, “Yes, I have seen you near the university; I go up there on occasion to observe the budding artists. Are you intending to pursue your passion?”

Pursue her passion? Elsa could only assume he meant would she make a career for herself as a painter. “I plan on it if I ever finish school”, she replied, looking away.

“I would like to make another observation, if I may,” the man responded. Elsa nodded slowly and he continued, “I see in you a beautiful person, but not a happy one. Something appears to be burdening you, Miss…?”

“Elsa”, she replied, “My name is Elsa Bianca.”

The man smiled, closing his eyes, “Such a beautiful name; I am Michael d’Ravir.”

Elsa sat up and looked at him with surprise, “Get out! THE Michael d’Ravir??”

Michael nodded, “The same, but I try not to let my fame go to my head. Rather, I try to give up-and-coming artists the break I had to work so hard to acquire. The world should have more artists because artists are passionate people and passion fuels the soul.”

Elsa nodded firmly, “I think so too. Without passion life is pointless.”

Michael smiled to her, looking into her eyes, “I’m so glad we agree on that, because I can see much passion bottled up in you, Miss Bianca.”

Elsa was frozen in place again by those eyes, “What… do you mean by that?”

Michael whispered softly as he kept his gaze locked with hers, “When we stare at one another like this, do you feel anything? Do you feel a passion?” Elsa’s eyes widened and she nodded slowly. Michael only smiled further, “Please, tell me Elsa, how deep does this passion burn? This passion that you feel when you look in my eyes?”

Elsa stared silently for a moment, and then replied, “Like a roaring sunset.”

Michael leaned back slowly against the booth, “Closer, dear Elsa. We do not wish to break the gaze. Never break this connection. This passion. This sunset.”

Elsa moved closer, keeping her eyes focused upon his. She was now easily leaning over him as he sat there beckoning her, “Elsa, do you wish to escape from this life you live? Do you wish to be free to experience something better?”

Elsa nodded, “I hate my life. I want something more, yes.”

Michael’s eyes appeared to become ever more iridescent as he spoke, “You are an animal. A passionate animal that is starved for love and life: trapped in a cage of your own making. I can free you: I can free you from this cage. I would like that, and I know you would too. Look deeper into my eyes. Look at all I have for you. I offer you your wildest dreams if you dare to look. Yes, look deeper. Keep your eyes fixed. You are becoming hotter now with the fires of your own passions. You can barely keep them contained. You do not wish to contain yourself Elsa! You are an animal! You are wild and free! Free from rules and free from responsibility! BE FREE!”

Elsa reared her head back and let out a cross between a moan and a roar, grabbing at her button-up blouse and pulling with a strength born of adrenaline, tearing it completely open and exposing her pale, perky bosom with its’ puffy pink nipples. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she fell upon the seat of the booth, squeezing at her breasts with her hands and grinding her clitoris against the corner of the booth itself.

Michael did not waste a moment. He took out his sketchpad and pencils and set to work drawing a new picture of a bold new Elsa. At last, her potential was revealed.

It was a rainy day six months later. Elsa sat staring out the window of her three-story house that she had bought, treasuring the storm safely from inside. A figure came up behind her and placed his firm, tanned hand upon her shoulder. She turned around and gave Michael a kiss, then looked into those eyes without fear and smiled softly, “Michael my love, why are you so good to me?”

Michael reached up and brushed some hair away from her face, stroking it gently as he gave her a longing stare, “In all my years, I have never had a student quite like you. You began making leaps the moment I offered them to you and you have never disappointed me. I love to see you so free and full of passion. In fact, I would love to see it now: outside in the rain.”

His eyes began to shine, “Elsa, you can feel the visions stir within your mind. Your soft, luscious breasts soaked with water and bouncing freely as you dance.”

Elsa moaned, throwing off her sweater and bra and stripping out of her jeans and panties as she began running outside, spinning around in the rain and then throwing herself into the mud, bucking against it like a cat in heat. Michael only smiled as he watched her through the window. She was his prize pupil after all.