The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Above All”

by Hypnotic Teddy Bear

Clarissa regained consciousness slowly. Pain accompanied every muscle contration; even breathing was agony. She was adrift in a sea of pain. She tried to open her eyes, but was prevented from doing so by a crust of dry cum. She felt nasty all over. The laughter of twenty teenage boys still rang in her ears. Finally, the realization that she had been raped and left for dead enraged her enough to lend strength to her rubbery muscles. She rolled off her back onto her belly, and after resting for about ten minutes, she was able to pull herself forward some. She headed uphill, toward the exit. Whenever she felt her strength failing, she thought about how the boys had waylaid her, dragged her into the underground parking garage, and then had used their switchblade knives to cut her clothing from her body in itty bitty strips. She wanted help. She wanted justice, but above all, she wanted revenge. Each pull brought her about a foot closer to her goal. She was on the third level below ground. Each level was about a hundred yards long. One pull roughly every ten minutes. Even if it took her a week, she was getting out. After three hours, Clarissa was exhausted. Even her rage failed her. She wouldn’t have even known she had fallen asleep had she not been awakened by the sound of footsteps. She tried to cry out, but all she managed was a feeble squeak. In the hollow emptiness of the garage, it was apparently enough, for after only a minute, Clarissa felt strong hands on her, lifting her to a sitting position. She was carefully sheathed in a coat and lifted from the concrete. She managed to squeak out a “thank you.”

* * *

Consciousness returned again several hours later. She was surrounded by water. A rag came up and started wiping her face. She realized she’d been here for quite a while, for her fingertips were well wrinkled. Water was poured over her head. She felt a comb going through her hair.

“Awake already?” a tenor voice asked. “What with all you’ve obviously been through, I thought you’d sleep another couple of days.”

“How long have I been out?” she said, barely above a whisper.

“Five days.” her rescuer replied. “This is the thirtieth time I’ve bathed you, and this stuff still doesn’t seem to want to come out.” Clarissa let him continue. She must have dozed off again, because she awoke in a big waterbed. She managed to get the covers off, and found she was dressed in a silk nightgown. There were lit candles over on the other side of the room. The long, thin, straight candles brought back to her mind the image of twenty young males poking their things in every orifice, trying to get two in at a time, or more. She covered her head with a pillow. She heard the door open.

“Get rid of those candles.” she pleaded. “They remind me of...” She couldn’t continue. Tears squeezed from her eyes.

“Sorry.” the tenor voice said. Clarissa heard the sound of the candles being blown out, then the noises of the various candles being placed on a metal cart and wheeled out. The next thing Clarissa knew, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She opened her eyes a slit, and found a spoon in front of her face. Weakly, she opened her mouth, and the spoon went in, depositing its cargo of Chicken and Stars in her mouth. She was too tired to think, so she allowed herself to be fed. The next time she awoke, she was in the bathtub again. His hands felt so good on her body, so tender and gentle and caring. This person cared for her, not like THEM. She felt him wash her arms and legs, her face, her neck and down over her body. Again she dozed off while reveling in the pleasure of his touches. The next time she awoke, the candlesticks had been replaced by gel candles in bowls, animal-shaped candles, and a clown nightlight. Clarissa smiled, and her eyes sagged shut yet again.

* * *

Time had no meaning for Clarissa. She didn’t know whether she slept for minutes, hours, days or weeks. All she knew was what was happening when she opened her eyes. Her rescuer never demanded anything. He gave her the food she needed whether she was awake or not. Hers was a life of luxury she had never experienced before, until one day her benefactor decided it was time she started on the path toward recovery.

“How long has it been?” she asked.

“Would you believe almost three months?” he asked.

“Three months?” Clarissa asked, feebly trying to push herself up in bed.

“I’ve been keeping track of the guys they arrested for your rape. Their lawyers are trying to get them paroled.”

“Don’t let them!” Clarissa said, grabbing her companion’s shirt and pulling, which resulted in little more than wrinkling the shirt.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much say in the matter.” he replied. “And as much as I’d like to keep taking care of you like a puppy or a china-doll, I can’t. You’ll have to get some of those motor skills back.”

“I...I understand.” she said. “Uh, by the way...what’s your name?”

“’Bout time you asked. I’m Phil. Phil Grimble.” With that, Phil pulled back the covers, revealing the beautiful silk gown he had dressed her in.

“I’m Clarissa.” she said. Phil smiled and pulled Clarissa off the bed. She was amazed at how wobbly she was, but then, three months of inactivity could do that to a person. Using Phil for balance, she picked up her right foot and put it down in front of the left. She supported herself on Phil’s shoulder as she made her way to the other side of the room, one step at a time.

* * *

It took almost another month for Clarissa to get her motor skills back to the point where she didn’t need Phil’s help to get around in the house. Another couple of months later, she was physically back to normal. Phil took good care of her, too. He bathed her every night just as he had when she was flittering into and out of consciousness, took excellent care of her hair and skin, etc. Clarissa exercised, running the treadmill and doing things like butterflies, side-bends, sit-ups. One evening she passed a vanity in one of the unused rooms of the house, and scared herself. She hadn’t recognized her own reflection. She found herself staring, astonished at her own beauty. Phil had taken very good care of her skin and hair indeed, for both were smooth as silk. The whole golden length of Clarissa’s hair shone like spun gold, and it was much longer than Clarissa remembered it. Overjoyed, Clarissa searched the house, looking for Phil. She just HAD to thank him. She couldn’t find him anywhere. She even checked the basement, which was usually locked. She almost fell down the stairs because of the extreme darkness, and smiled when she found a light. What the light revealed astonished her. Scientific equipment was everywhere. In one corner was a chair with a metal hood. Near the north wall was a table with stirrups and straps, like from the Frankenstein movie. A large computer-array lined the east wall. The data was all encrypted, and Clarissa had no clue what the password was. She did manage to find a 3-ring binder with various notes in it. The notes disturbed her greatly. Phil had kept records of what had happened since he’d found her, including many things she didn’t remember, because he hadn’t wanted her to remember. The binder contained notes on her responses to suggestions given to her while she was in a chemical-induced state of extreme suggestability, on her responses to subliminal and neurotransmitted programming, and it went on like that for almost three hundred pages. She realized that she had spent almost a year in the clutches of a mind-controlling freak. She was shocked and apalled, but above all, she was enraged. She wanted explanations, an apology, but above all, she wanted REVENGE!

“Freeze!” Phil called from the entrance. Clarissa found herself suddenly immobile. Phil put his grocery bags into the chair, then removed the notebook deftly from Clarissa’s frozen fingers. “You do realize I can’t let you continue like this, don’t you?” he asked. Clarissa’s mind never registered the sensation of the touch, or where she had been touched, but she knew that he had touched her, and she had gone limp. She was set onto the table, strapped down, and hooked up to a machine. Clarissa lay helpless as all memories pertaining to this place or its contents were systematically deleted.

* * *

Clarissa awoke and smiled when she saw Phil. She stretched, then crawled out of bed. He didn’t look happy as he handed her the paper. He had circled a particular article. It spoke of the parole of twenty teenage boys from prison yesterday. His expression told her all she needed to know. These were the boys who had raped her. Clarissa found herself wanting justice, compensation, but above all, revenge. Phil was more than willing to provide. He taught her how to defend herself, using several different types of martial arts. Clarissa’s willingness to learn allowed her to become adept at butt-kicking in a matter of months. He kept track of the perpetrators, and kept her informed of their places of residence. After Clarissa had learned all she felt she needed to know, Phil took her out. They kept tabs on the boys for three days before they finally got a break. They waylaid another young woman and proceeded with the preliminaries of the rape. Clarissa had seen all this before. She had seen it through the victim’s eyes. She and Phil started taking pictures. The flashes alerted the boys to their presence, and they fled. The woman who was almost victimized thanked them while weeping profusely. Clarissa smiled.

“I’ve been there.” she told the woman. She held the camera triumphantly. Here was evidence of a parole violation if nothing else, and with the other victim’s testimony, they were sure to get extra time.

* * *

The submission of evidence took little time. Clarissa and Phil attended the trial, watching from the gallery. All of the boys were found guilty, and sentenced to two consecutive life sentences. Phil had one arm around Clarissa’s shoulder, and occasionally he would run his fingers over the “scrunchie,” as Clarissa called it, that held her hair up in a waterfall ponytail. Clarissa didn’t notice. She was too intent on the trial.

Clarissa and Phil went back to the latter’s home. Clarissa’s apartment would already be occupied by someone else, she realized. She had been away for far too long to get that back. Phil carried her up to her room as she thought of how different her life was now. How would she get back into law school? How would she get back her stuff? As usual, she found that her fate rested in Phil’s hands. He set her back on her feet, then closed the door behind them.

“Phil, I gotta ask you...”

“Shhh.” Phil said, putting one finger over her mouth. He leaned over and whispered something in her ear that she couldn’t consciously register. She had to get her clothes off. She had to empty her mind of all the stressful thoughts. Her body became broiled in sexual heat, and she had to get off. But above all, she had to obey Master.

Fin