The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Jeffrey Rice seethed in front of the judge. “I can pay off the rest of the mortgage myself. I have a good job, had it even before those basketball whores seduced her into that lifestyle. She can keep her money as long as I can keep the house. She doesn’t need it, after all. Let her stay in Russia and get herpes from Pornakova, for all I care. I should have known better than to marry a basketball player. I’m a man. I can take care of myself. I won’t ask her to pay me,. Even if she abandoned me- but given the salaries, I see no reason I should pay her either!” he said, and the tears in his eyes came from a mix of grief and rage.

He had no idea what had happened. Barely four months into her stay in Russia, Kelly went colder than a Siberian winter. Some practice had supposedly kept her from coming home for Christmas, and then at New Year’s she had announced that she was no a lesbian and didn’t need him anymore, so there was no reason to come back to the US. His pride kept him from going to the church and nailing her to the cross, and his embarrassment let her keep everything but the house she apparently no longer needed. Her absence at the hearing was proof enough that she had moved on to a life of sin with that whore Bridget Eagleton, and that was good enough for him. It was time for him to move on. “To hell with her, and to hell with those hedonists,” he said under his breath as he left the courtroom.

All things considered, this probably wasn’t the best time for him to find a short-haired, tattooed, muscular black woman sitting on the hood of his car, looking like something out of his worst nightmares. “What, you people come out and celebrate when you turn someone’s wife? Or did you shave her head, and you’re gonna dump her hair on me, you filthy bitch?” Jeffrey snarled, charging at Rhonda in blind rage.

“Cue the Jose Feliciano! Toro, toro!” Rhonda said excitedly before spearing Jeffrey to the ground and pounding him into submission. ”This is for the homophobia. This is for being a fundie. This is for making fun of my favorite one-handed lover. This...” She stopped short, picked up a bloodied and bruised Jeffrey, and gave him a hug. ”This is for confirming our lead about Bridget Eagleton.”

He shoved her away in anger and confusion. “What’s going on here?” he demanded.

“That’s enough, Rhonda. If those sons of bitches stole your wife and her broker used an affair as an excuse, you’d do the same thing he did. Sorry for the trouble, Mr. Rice. Claudia Marion, Special Agent; my partner over there is Rhonda Wilson. We need to ask you some questions about Kelly Rice,” Claudia said, getting out of the black Lincoln Town Car in a coal black skirtsuit with a matching tie and a crisp white blouse.

“You have got to be kidding me. Men in black. Sorry, miss, women in black. But what the fuck does the CIA give about an uncontested divorce? Go blow up Pakistan or waterboard someone or something,” Jeffrey said, going for his keys, not believing a word they said.

“0-for-2 so far, Mr. Rice. Pakistan isn’t our department and we’re not the CIA. If we were, Rhonda would have finished the job and you’d be in DC with wires strapped to your head. The FBI does have their Mindcrime task force chasing your former wife and a few other women in her situation, but they won’t stand a chance, not with the Russians,” She smiled. “Let me rephrase this. Please allow me to introduce myself...”

“Oh. Oh, no. No, no, no, that’s a myth. I don’t know what you want, but that’s not funny,” Jeffrey said, turning white with fear.

“Ah. So you’re happier divorced from the woman you love, with all of the gossip of divorce, than a widower? You’d rather think she’s alive and hating you than know what’s really goin’ on? Yeah, I hear you. I used to think the same way. As long as there’s life there’s hope, right? Ain’t that what they say? But we’ve got it on good authority that we can nail someone on this. Won’t bring your wife back, not as she was, but no power in this world can manage that trick. But we can keep ‘em from doin’ to others what got done to you and your wife,” Brenna said, getting out of the car in her black t-shirt and blue jeans.

“No, no, no, that’s all fairy tales, right?”

“Always some grain of truth to the story,” Claudia said sympathetically.

“No, don’t tell me, don’t... it’s real? It’s all around us, isn’t it? So that hooker I bought this weekend to ease the pain and get a little perverted revenge isn’t working her way through college, is she?” Jeffrey asked, the tears rolling down his face stinging and cleaning out the small cuts from when he’d hit the ground.

“Depends, is that college Lubbock State?” Rhonda said with a grin at Brenna. Brenna replied with a playful finger.

Jeffrey, not getting the inside joke, answered seriously. “BYU, and they know I don’t believe in the Second Wives Club. It’s all just... it’s hard to believe.” Deep down, he had understood that something other than lust was at play. Living in Salt Lake City, he’d seen the LDS taking converts who took a wrong turn at Temple Square-and the LSD converting them right back. But his pride and his faith made it hard to believe that these forces could really be in play. “Oh, God,” he mumbled as he got into the car. “It was my idea. I told her to go to that combine, and that’s where that bitch found her, and... and this is all my fault, I got her killed.” The tears came back full force, and he collapsed sobbing into the nearest set of sympathetic arms.

Rhonda looked up at her teammates. “You mention this to anyone, I’m gonna rip your arm out of its socket.”

“Would I do that to you?” Brenna asked with an evil grin.

“Let’s not scare the witness, girls,” Claudia chided over her shoulder.

They pulled up in front of the main library and went into the sci-fi racks. Claudia pulled hard on a dusty Jack Chalker hardcover, and the shelves opened to reveal a secret room, where the rest of the team was waiting around a large square table. “The LSD were kind enough to loan us their conference room,” she explained with a smile. “Please, have a seat. I wouldn’t recommend touching the snacks, though. Those aren’t ours. We originally thought the mortgage payment was a sale fee and you just wanted her gone- my apologies for the assumption, but it’s more popular than you’d think. But then why go through with the divorce? In that scam, the guy claims his wife is dead and gets the insurance on top of the sale fee. That set off our monitors. You contacting a pimp told us you were a witness even If you hadn’t figured out what was going on.”

“Why were you monitoring such mundane shit? Why didn’t you stop them then? You could have saved her!”

“She was brokered through Bridget Eagleton. Outside these walls, she’s the sweetheart matinee idol of women’s basketball. She’s a pop culture heroine. She’s feminine enough that all the boys have her poster, baller enough to play the field with the ladies, open enough to drop her pants on Howard Stern, fun enough to get even frat boys to watch the W. Yeah, we’re gonna be able to just swoop in and kill her on live television. We’re more subtle than that,” Rhonda mocked.

Jeffrey looked at her for a long moment, then thought better of what he had been about to say and instead said, “Okay, this makes no sense, except for the part where it makes perfect sense. So you said Bridget turned her?”

“Easy, Rhonda, he doesn’t know what he’s saying,” Cynthia interjected, holding Rhonda back.

“Not in that sense,” Claudia explained. “She’s no controller. If she was, she wouldn’t be stupid enough to target someone as married and as conservative as you and Kelly. She’d have enough people lining up for her in a few places if it were that simple. Now, the next part is important. You bought the house with the signing bonus, but were there any other payments? Did anyone else contact you and give you money?”

“Yes. I never heard from Bridget again, but I got a check from the person who confirmed her story. Fifty thousand dollars allowed me to shorten the term by five years,” Jeffrey said, and everyone in the room winced in sorrow and sympathy.

“What did this person say? Who she was doesn’t matter- that person is dead, a puppet Bridget used so Kelly wouldn’t be scared off or suspicious,” Claudia said.

“Angela- she- oh, God, she gave it away, how could I not get it?”

“They thought you did. They likely still do, and figured you were getting the divorce to find yourself a trophy wife. What did she say?”

“She- Angela Dowdell, she was a big shooter back in the day, we’d actually heard of her, that’s why we believed her- she said that I shouldn’t have to pay for the years that Kelly’s giving up overseas,” Jeffrey blurted out.

After a long moment, Brenna summed up what everyone was thinking. “Fuck.”

“Il diablo,” Gianna concurred.

“So she’s in on it? A partner?”

“A pawn long dead and longer living. Someone who got suckered by the same scam. We’ll need to keep in touch with you. In the meantime, they won’t break you. They still see you as a friend, and one they need to feed- as far as they know, you’re someone who can corroborate Bridget’s stories without her direct control. Expect a lot of phone calls. Record them all. We’ll need the evidence. Don’t call anyone yourself. Rhonda showed you not to get on our bad side. And...” Claudia hesitated before looking Jeffrey in the eye. “When you’re ready, burn Kelly’s jersey, or bury it, or something. She’s a victim of one of the worst mind control mobs in the world. Treat her as murdered. You’ll be a lot saner for it. We’ve all been there. We’ve all lost someone. Let us know if there’s any way we can help,” she added as she handed him her business card and escorted him into the main stacks.

“You have good evidence of a broker. Avery’s testimony and Rice’s testimony give you cause, but not enough to bring down the family behind it. We need to debase this broker and break her ties with the family. That way, we can get her to turn on the family and get our operatives on them. The only reason Elite 1 would be on this is because it’s the Russians. For the past eight seasons, Eagleton’s been with a team run by the Zhukov family, suspected to be behind twenty-five different trafficking rings worldwide. They’re one of the biggest families out there. We’re not only sending you into the belly of the bear, but one of the biggest and meanest in the business. A frontal attack would be suicide, and entering Russia would guarantee that you’d never be found, but I suspect you know that already. But a diplomatic attack will back them off the US, cost them millions- if not billions- and lower their stature in the eyes of the Rasputin Society; if nothing else, they at least value secrecy and not being exposed by foreign entities. This will likely be more dangerous than a simple assassination, so be ready for anything. Use your leads and build a stronger case, then come up with a plan to discredit Eagleton for however long as you can. But remember, she is not classified as a controller, so we have limited jurisdiction over her, and moving too quickly against her will expose us and cause multiple diplomatic incidents. You fly to Europe in two weeks. Hope you guessed my name,” General Marion’s voice rattled off from the recording.

“Thirty seconds, right?” Gianna said, tossing the disc into the dumpster.

Brenna rolled her eyes. “No one does that anymore, gelato. But if it makes you feel better...” She lit a match and tossed it in the dumpster, watching as it caught fire.

“Easy there, cheerleader. We need everything Gianna knows about the Russians on this one, not her temper,” Claudia warned.

“Besides, it’s General Marion. The only person I know who’s crazier than we are is him,” Cheryl cracked.

“Yeah, he would do the whole Mission Impossible thing, wouldn’t he? As long as he don’t get any Charlie’s Angels ideas about us,” Rhonda agreed as they went back to the hotel.

“So the good news is that we know where to find her and roughly what she’s doing- she’s offering opportunity and getting a share of the crop in return. Of course, bad news is that she’s airtight in the US on account of being a sports hero and clean to boot. Worse is that she isn’t a controller. Even if we do something, it’ll be hard to make it stick long enough to cost the Zhukovs anything, either basketball-wise or control-wise,” Cynthia summed up.

“Exactly. But to hurt their empire, we have to hit them on a front other than control. Russia cares about the control, and for them, that’s straight control. No drugs, no machines, and even subliminals are seen as cheating. Most families only use it outside of the homeland. If you plant the seed of doubt, everyone will fall upon them like wolves. We will at least stop one of the symptoms, even if we aren’t curing the disease,” Gianna explained.

“And they just bury their mistakes. Reggie used to say that he wanted to move to Russia ’cause there were only two genders there, the living and the controlled. They don’t care about anything else. The victims get burned, life goes on.”

“Sounds like Michigan,” Brenna muttered. “So maybe if we cut off their pipeline of Americans, it’ll ripple back worldwide. We don’t need a humongous crack, right? Just one big enough to see. So let’s see what niche Bridget caters to. Close off the pipeline and the niche has to look elsewhere, right? They have to scramble, and when they scramble, they scatter into the light. Lets us know who’s around, and if one crosses my path, bye-bye.”

“If I don’t get ‘em first,” Rhonda agreed.

“We can make them run, but that’s all we can do for now. Russia has too many variables and too many controllers. But a broker was well paid and influential as Bridget is a good start and will cause echoes. I think she’s done more than anyone realizes. I don’t think she’s one of them, from what Avery tells us, but she knows all their tricks. We should look at the teams and look for people we can’t find,” Gianna said.

“Exactly. She’s flown under the radar too long. We know about Rice and Dowdell, but it’s a scouting scam- promise work, pay well, and take the fee for herself,” Claudia said.

Gianna made a face. “Gepetto scam. I hate those. She could have hundreds of puppets, and if they have no visible strings, no one could ever know.”

“First rule for any cop: follow the money,” Cynthia suggested.

“Money, cash, hoes,” Claudia said without a trace of humor. “Check rosters dating back eight years, including the lower divisions. Cross check that with anything we have in the database from the Zhukovs.”

Claudia’s cell phone rang in the middle of the night, awakening her from a sound sleep. The number was Jeffrey’s, and she answered right away. “Claudia Marion. Jeffrey? Someone contact you? What? You’re sure? But she still went through with the divorce? You feel anything unusual, like a surge of love for Kelly? Sudden arousal? No? That’s odd. But thanks. Check’s real. We won’t stop you either way,” she said before hanging up and contacting the team. “We have to move back to HQ. Jeffrey’s been compromised. No evidence of control, but someone had ‘Kelly’ pay off the mortgage. That can only mean one thing.”

“Someone’s nervous. They know we’re on the trail and they’re trying to slam the door,” Rhonda said with a groan.

“Eagleton. Otherwise, he’s controlled, droning it out, reconciling with his wife, and joining them in Russia, and we’re Eagleton’s next targets,” Gianna said.

“Still, we’re dealing with the most dangerous, the most addictive, and the most mind-altering substance known to man. We need to find another lead, and fast, or she’s going to escape us,” Claudia said with grave concern in her voice.

“Agreed. Sure looks like he can’t be bought, but that gesture- not everyone can ignore something like that coming from their spouse, ex or not,” Cynthia concluded as the group started packing for the airport.