The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Brighton strode along Bow street with Ned and Sergeant Smythe, his step keeping in military time with theirs. Hove turned his head briefly to stare at a Black Maria, after a little while he spoke.

“So this fits the pattern then Holmes, what say you?”

Ned grimaced, “I say we wait and examine the evidence Hove, it is better to act once one is more fully informed.” Holmes cocked an eyebrow, “Would you not agree?”

“Ah, yes of course. Quite right!” Hove replied. He then glanced downward as if to check his attire.

Smythe spoke up, “Just a couple of hundred yards now gents, do you want me with the two of you while you ’andle our naked lady?”

For once Holmes chuckled, “Not necessary my friend, we shall not be as you say handling her.” Ned coughed, and paused for a second, “I am sure that Hove can conduct that interview himself. I shall concentrate on Fortescue. I presume he is still with you?”

Before the Sergeant could reply in the affirmative, Brighton protested.

“By myself. Good lord, alone with a naked madwoman! A bit irregular Ned, even for you.”

“Irregular but necessary. In this case very necessary.”

“Well I’ll be jiggered!” said Brighton.

“No, Mr ’Ove. I assure you the constable will do all ’e can to help you prevent that. Or my name ain’t Smythe!”

This time Ned laughed aloud, “Capital, then we are all decided.”

The trio arrived at and then ascended the steps of Bow police station, oddly Hove had lost his precise timing and lingered a step or two behind the others.

As Brighton entered the station it was clear that arrangements were already in place.

“PC Johnson, if you could h’escort Mr ’Ove there to the lady; I will take Mr ’Olmes to his Reverend.”

“This way Mr Hove,” Albert Johnson shook his head, “A rum thing if ever I saw one. We can’t get her to wear even one thing; diddeys and crinkum-crankum flapping around for all to gander. Not right it isn’t! Not what a constable should be asked to see... Not at all.”

Hove nodded in quiet consideration and then he asked a question. “Would you mind awfully if we had a look through the peep-hole first?” Brighton swallowed hard, “So I can get some idea of what lies ahead.”

The constable nodded; when they reached the cell he drew back the slide and peeked through in advance of Hove. “Oh, you are lucky she seems to be quiet at the moment, not doing much other than playing with her muff.”

Brighton grimaced, his eyes widened a little at the sight. “Excellent, well that is a relief... Of sorts.”

The door swung open to reveal a wretched woman sprawled most unsuitably in the far right corner of the cell. With a vague awareness she looked up without ceasing her delicate finger-play.

“Have you brought her? She asked, “Is she here for me?”

Hove looked at Albert, but the constable merely shrugged.

“I’m sorry, whom did you expect us to bring with us?” asked Brighton, trying to keep his eyes steady and fixed on the woman’s face.

“Jessie! My Jessica... My lovely daughter... My lover.” The woman cackled and drove two ringed fingers deep into her slack cunny.

Hove blinked, “Shut the door if you would Bert,” he gasped. “No, no—you stay in here with me. We have to interview her.”

“Interview that,” the constable spat,” That ain’t no woman, no mother. You heard what she said as well as I did.”

Hove turned and looked at the constable with a wary eye. “That constable is, whatever else, a human being and we will conduct our duty.” Brighton drew breath, “Agreed?”

The pale constable nodded, he was still unable to hide his contempt. He shut the cell door.

“So how have you been keeping old chap?” asked Holmes.

“Well I suppose, they treat me kindly here. Considering my sins...” The reverend shook his head, his white hair exploded into a mop, “Is there any progress... Anything at all?”

Holmes struck a match and applied it to the bowl of his meerschaum. He puffed contentedly. “Progress...” He lifted his pipe from his mouth and studied the stem, “Some, but early days. I start to understand the issues involved.”

Forty visibly slumped, “I had hope of more.”

“All will become apparent. It may do so sooner with your assistance.” said Ned.

“Anything. I will do anything to assist with righting this wrong.”

Holmes nodded, and knocked out his pipe against the heel of his boot. “Good, then I would like you to meet a fellow inmate. A woman. I must warn you she is in considerable distress.”

“Distress? I am sorry,” Forty paled, “Does this have something to do with me. With—my...”

“Yes,” said Holmes, “I fear it may Forty.”

Forty raised his hands to his head and attempted to smooth his ragged hair, then he wiped away the tears from his eyes. He sighed.

“Take me to this lost soul.”

Holmes nodded, rose and tapped three times on the cell door. A minute later they stood on the outside of a similar cell; three taps rang out again. Hove opened the door and smiled broadly at Holmes. “Thank the lord!” Brighton’s face fell, when he spied the reverend,“I say Ned, are you sure?”

Saying nothing, Ned entered the cell and Fortescue followed him dutifully.

“What is this!” roared the woman, “I need no salvation. I need quim! Get me my Jessica’s cunny. I want my girl.”

“Oh no,” said Forty, “Mrs Newcombe—what, what has become of you?”

“You know this wanton bunter?” asked Johnson.

“This is no unfortunate woman constable. This is an upstanding member of my flock. And yet, I have brought her to... This!

Holmes snaked a supportive arm around Forty. “My friend, I think your collar stud may calm her. If I may?”

Forty blinked, and with a soul-wrenching sigh he unpinned the stud and dropped it into Ned’s extended palm.

“Well done. That is the first step complete.” said Ned. He then walked towards the ungainly woman. “Mrs Newcombe? See what I have here... It is from Jessica.”

Emily immediately stopped her now frantic fingering, she ignored the splaying of her legs however and left them obscenely akimbo.

“Jessica?” she said, eyeing the twinkling stud.

Ned just nodded and handed it to her. Briefly as if caressing her, he stroked her left hand twice and then withdrew. He walked back to Forty and dropped something in his hand, “Fair exchange?” he asked.

Forty nodded, and then together he and Ned went to leave the cell. Ned paused and whispered in Brighton’s ear. “Watch her. Watch her like a hawk my friend and be ready.”

“For what?” asked Hove. His only reply was the closing of the cell door.

Nancy walked at a steady pace. She knew two things, firstly she was fully aware that Mr ’Olmes would not approve, secondly she had no way to avoid breaking his instruction. Something was pulling her though, drawing her through the damp streets. Whatever it was she was blissfully unaware of. But it was interesting, curious. Soon she arrived in the street she sought, she looked at the sign on the street corner ‘Frampton Street NW8’. She glanced down the road. One of the houses in the mews seemed to stand out, almost glow.

The young woman walked towards the house, and then up the steps. She went to lift the ring of the knocker, but before she could the door swung open. Nancy gazed dumfounded at the unknown woman.

“Ah, you must be Nancy. We have been expecting you.” Sybil smiled, and swung her right arm in an arc signalling that the girl should enter. “Just go straight ahead, all is prepared.”

Hesitantly Nancy walked towards the opened double-doors ahead of her. In the middle of the room in front of her stood a young girl. She was quite naked. Her nipples were quite erect. Nance stopped walking and turned on her heel, she stood nose-to-nose with Sybil.

“I can’t. This is... I’m not...”

Sybil said nothing, she simply took a pin from her hair. Nancy watched the hair swirl around the girl’s face; she stepped out and went to walk past, and then it glinted, it shimmered. Nance could not make out what it was, but it was beautiful; fear was itself banished and desire returned. Without knowing how, Nancy found herself standing in front of the unnamed girl. Without thought she extended a hand and touched the youngster’s face. “So very young... An innocent.”

Sybil laughed unkindly, “Young for sure, but her innocence is waning rather than waxing.” she nodded at Jessica, “Show her your new skills.”

Jessica knelt and swept up Nance’s heavy skirt and petticoats. Her hand glided up Nancy’s twitching leg to the gusset of the woman’s bloomers. In a second they were the other side of the silk, pressing, exploring. Nancy shuddered.

“This is so wrong...” breathed Nance.

“But so very right, soon you will be fully initiated. Is that not the case?”

Sybil’s hands grasped Nancy’s bubbies and kneaded them generously.

“Oh yes...” sighed Nancy.

Brighton was unsure of what to do now, not that it was entirely new to him; Ned’s instructions were often frustratingly opaque. He scratched his head and turned to Johnson, shrugging. Both of them watched the woman twirl the collar stud, the twinkling gem did have an odd power. Suddenly Hove averted his eyes; he was becoming entranced, it took him some effort to resist the green light although he was now aware of its dangers.

“Johnson! Do not look at the glow. Anywhere but not at the glow.”

Johnson’s voice was dream-like. " Sir, if you say so,” he stopped speaking, and shook his head seeking to clear it. “What was it we were waiting for anyways Mr Hove? She seems much calmer now, she isn’t even...”

At that moment the peace in the room was shattered by a high pitched squeal.

“My ring! My ring is gone,” screamed Emily.

“You still have your ring,” answered Johnson, he pointed to Emily’s wedding ring.

“Not this useless thing,” she howled, and flung her wedding band at the surprised officer. “I have been tricked, for this is useless too.” Mrs Newcombe dropped the collar stud to the cell floor.

For a moment all was quiet, quiet enough for Hove to hear a rumpus coming from one of the other cells. A second later and Brighton was struggling to get away from a frantic Emily.

“Get me my ring. I will do whatever you want... Just get it!” Mrs Newcombe pawed at Hove incessantly, “Do you want pleasure? I can give you pleasure you will not believe.” So saying she tore at the front of Brighton’s breeches. Her desire to loosen his clothing was so intense that she sent Hove reeling and he tumbled to the floor.

Johnson reacted immediately, he raced across the cell and pulled the harridan away from Hove’s flinching form. Emily spun and turned her attention to the would be rescuer. Her hands enclosed around the shocked constables Nebuchadnezzar. With an urgency she tried to mettle him attempting to bring his member to attention.

“No you don’t you wagtail. You won’t get no stand out of old Bert. I unlike you marm have standards.” So saying, the Sergeant loosened his truncheon.

Emily fell back to the floor and scuttled away to the corner of the cell. She looked venomously at the Sergeant and was just about to launch another attack when her face fell. Confused she looked down at her bruised naked body. Her face contorted with panic and she tried desperately to cover her shame. Sensing a change in her demeanour Brighton removed his jacket and slung it over her shoulders. Emily immediately grasped the edges of the jacket and drew it around her tightly.

“Watch ’er Mr Brighton,that pinchcock will be up to one of her tricks,” shouted the constable.

“No, no Bert... I don’t think so.” Brighton puffed, “I think she is back with us.”

“Lordy me, I ’ope so sir. She near crippled me; almost pulled my tackle from its very socket,” said Bert, wincing.

Brighton turned savagely in response to an urgent three taps on the cell door. Johnson moved more cautiously than normal as he reached out to open the door.

Holmes almost fell in the room, both Johnson and Hove gaped at his dishevelled appearance. Brighton was by his side in a trice.

“Ned, Ned—are you well? You look dreadful.”

“I, like you, have survived.” Holmes straightened his back and stood erect. " More importantly I was right. The keep-sakes are only effective on those directly tied to them.” Holmes spoke no more, he walked over to Mrs Newcombe and gazed down at her with an expression of polite sympathy. “And you, my dear lady, how have you fared?”

Emily looked up, her eyes were red-ringed and tearful. “I can remember it all. How can I ever return to polite society? You have no idea of the things I have done.”

“No worse than many, and you were unduly influenced by both mesmerism and chemistry. Yours is no shame, there shall be no disgrace.” replied Ned.

“No disgrace?” Emily shuddered, a shadow of fear crossed her face. “Sir I have gamahuched my own daughter. Do you have any idea how foul that is? I am sullied for eternity by this crime.”

“You will recover, with due care.” assured Brighton.

“Recover? Care... Who would care for me now?” Emily paled, her face froze, “Jessica! My poor Jessie, she is still with those sapphist’s. She will be ruined. Ruined for all time.”

“Calm yourself Ma’am, we will go to the aid of your child.” said Johnson.

“Constable, my child... Is a child no more...” This said, Mrs Newcombe slumped to the floor heaving with might of her distress. She was inconsolable.

Nancy felt her peak approach once more, she had lost count of the number of times she had spent; yet still the pleasure flowed. Jessie, for her part worked at Nancy’s swollen nubbin, nibbling and nipping it in between long sweeps of her young tongue.

Sybil sat astride Nance’s chest, her hands devilishly tweaking the servant’s nipples into even greater splendour. Each shudder of the trapped woman’s body sent a thrill through her assailants, and irradiated a beacon to the sisterhood. Even so ensnared Nancy tried to resist the alien desires, eyes closed, teeth gritted she fought against the ebb and flow of her wanton, traitorous body. It was however useless, a new wave of pure pleasure broke and Nancy felt more of her will power drain away.

“Enough!” said a disembodied voice.

Nancy opened her eyes and scanned the room looking for her saviour. In her desperation she would have welcomed Mr Holmes with joy. There was no joy. Standing on the far side of the room was an older, more refined looking woman and someone she recognised. No recognised was wrong, had she dreamt of her? Her mind span, greenness descended on the thoughts.

“So our servant has arrived,” said Florrie, smiling. “A little below our normal clientele, but surely most welcome.”

“Who... Are you?” Nancy asked, coughing back against her ragged breath.

“I am the Mistress of the Daughters of Sappho. You may call me Ma’am.”

“I’m no sapphist, and I don’t want to join... I have powerful friends.”

“No sapphist, really. Well we must test that in a moment. However, you are not invited to join the daughter’s. You servant-girl are merely a useful tool. I think you have already met Norma, but you may not recall. You will get to know her much more intimately; she is to be Mr Holmes new cook.”

Nancy twisted her head in disgust, “Mr ’Olmes would never fall for that. ’Ows she gonna get a servants recommendation?”

“I shall not need one Nancy. Not when you introduce me as your trusted friend.” said Norma.

“Oh, Miss ’igh and mighty—an’ what would I do that?” snapped Nance.

No reply was given, Norma and Florrie simply uncovered their sparkling jewellery and bathed the room in a fresh pulsating green luminosity. Then Nony undressed and walked over to stand directly over Nance’s head. A second later, a stream of urine passed from Norma’s body and rained down onto the shocked servant’s face. As much as she bucked Nancy could not dislodge Sybil or loosen Jessica’s grip, warm piss cascaded relentlessly down on her, stinging her eyes and flooding her flared nostrils. Nance fought for her breath.

“Know your place in things girl, you are nothing more than a piss-pot to me... Now dry me and then, pleasure me!”

Nony knelt, in a warm pool of her own making, her knees clamped Nance’s head in place; slowly she moved her still dripping cunny down on to Nancy’s face.”

“Now be a good servant girl and complete my toilette.” Norma laughed triumphantly.

Unable to resist Nance complied. Defiant no more, the headstrong young filly was broken. The daughters had their slave.

Ned stood quite casually, deep in thought and puffing away peaceably on his pipe. He pulled the pipe-stem from his mouth and ran it around his lips. A plume of blueish-grey smoke filled the reception hall of the police station.

“Well, we have established one way of breaking the influence of the mesmerist. Albeit impractical for wider use...” mused Ned.

Smythe’s brow furrowed, “Why should we not just separate the influenced from their ‘charms’ and await their recovery?”

“Forgive me Smythe, but to separate the reverend and Mrs Newcombe in the cells of the police station were onerous enough. How would we protect the public and bystanders should we attempt this elsewhere?” asked Hove.

“Brighton is correct, you saw the effort I had to influence to prevent even a reverend minister from the sin of Onan. Let alone his attempt at sodomy with me.” said Ned.

“Good lord!” said Hove, “No wonder there was a rumpus. I’ll be jiggered, you mean old Forty tried to mount you?”

“Indeed, I did manage to dissuade him...” said Holmes, cradling his right fist in his left palm.

“Served the blighter right, says I.” said Bill.

“As much as I abhor violence,” stated Holmes, “Occasionally it does have some merit.”

“So what are we to do? I have to come up with a plan for the Inspector.”

“Well, I have a proposal for you. Somewhat unconventional I will admit.”

“Spit it out ’Olmes. No time for reserve.” replied Sergeant Smythe.

“I suggest that you release Forty and Emily into my care.”

“Mr ’Olmes! To what end may I ask?”

“Simple logic. To set a trap for our mesmerist. She will want to recover her lost conquests.”

Smythe rubbed at his chin, “How would this trap be set without forewarning the guilty party?”

Holmes smiled, “That Sergeant, is a good question. One which I know the answer to, but I am not at liberty to reveal.”

“Highly h’irregular Mr ’Olmes, but by jingo I have no plan. I may just be able to get agreement.”

Smythe walked off to confer with his superiors. Ten minutes later he returned.

“It is agreed on two conditions, firstly that we have no official knowledge of this arrangement. Just as important, secondly Constable Johnson will keep a watch on your premises to see that the prisoners do not abscond.”

“Agreed.” said Holmes, “Now to set our trap Hove, are you ready for this? It may be unsavoury.”

“More unsavoury than we have experienced here?” asked Hove.

“Much more so I fear...” Holmes took a deep drag on his meerschaum.

“I shall prepared to be jiggered then old man.”

“And for once so shall I.” Holmes lowered his eyes.