The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Introduction

Los Angeles, California

Michael Davidson’s glacial blue eyes scanned the smokey poker room with negligent ease from behind mirror-plated shades. The poker room was located in the back of a bar called the Red Razor. Everyone knew that a person had to be twenty-one to enter the place, but it was safe to say, like in many other things, Michael was the exception to the rule.

At fifteen, Michael was commonly referred to as a street-brat. Meaning that the street was all he knew, and he knew it well. After running away from foster-care at the age of ten, Michael just ran hustle, after hustle to make enough money to live on. From the art of poker all the way to pick-pocketing, he was one of the best.

And Michael did make the right contacts on the long road of his life. He knew just about every underground gambling club in the city of L.A. And all of the bookies and club owners knew him on a first name basis. Two or three of them even hired him to run numbers when he was younger. And no matter what they had to say about him, they all said that he was one tough kid.

Michael walked the rest of the way into the room with a purposeful stride to the bar, running his fingers through unruly blonde hair on the way. After a little over four in some half years on the street, Michael had done fairly well for himself. He walked in wearing nice clothes and a little over five hundred dollars.

Kerry Wilson was working the small bar that was in the poker room that night. The twenty-seven-year-old redhead was one of Michael’s favorite people. She was the closest thing that he had to a big sister on the street.

Kerry’s greyish-green eyes twinkled when she watched Michael walk up. “Well, Mikey Davidson . . . Ya come to take some money off these chumps?” She asked, automatically putting out a Coke for the boy. She told him once that she would give him a ëreal’ drink, but he told her not while he was working.

“You think too highly of me, Sis.” He said in a smooth voice, lowering his shades to give her a wink as he took a seat on the small bar-stool and slid the shades back up just as quick. Michael had started calling Kerry “Sis” after the first year he knew her, a little after his thirteenth birthday.

“Oh? So you plan on losing?” She asked with a smirk.

Michael just chuckled. “Nah, I ain’t playing tonight. Mr. Jacobson wanted to see me . . . I got paged about an hour ago.” Michael said, taking a sip of Coke. Mr. Jacobson had got him the pager when he first started running numbers for him.

“Damn, that’s right. I almost forgot,” She started, reaching under the bar and pulled out a box that was rapped with red paper and looked, for all the world like a Christmas present. “He told me to give you this and to tell you he’d be around ëbout ten.” She finished as she laid the box in front of him.

Michael fished out a pack of Camels and a lighter from his leather jacket, lit it and just looked at the box. It wasn’t like Mr. Jacobson to give presents unless it was necessary. Michael looked back up to Kerry. “What is it?”

Kerry laughed. “Hell, I don’t know, Mikey. He didn’t tell me. Open it and find out.” She said with a light smile. She was curious to know what it was as well. She had known Mr. Jacobson a hell of a lot longer than Michael and the man NEVER bought her a present.

She watched with interest as Michael ripped the paper off slowly, only to reveal a plain box. Michael then slowly flipped the lid on it, frustrating Kerry because the lid still blocked her view. This was one of the many times that she wished she could see his brilliant blue eyes so she could see if the present, whatever it was, surprised him.

Michael picked a card out of the box and scanned it four or five times before Kerry couldn’t take it anymore and snatched it out of his hand to see what it said. She read it out loud. “You’ll need this for tonight,” Just about that time she watched Michael pulled out his present.

I always thought they would be lighter. He thought, bemused. The low light reflected off of the chrome barrel of the semi-automatic .45. He looked at the brand, a Desert Eagle. What Michael felt at that moment was not fear, but a curiosity he could barely control. Wonder what he meant by ëYou’ll need it.’ He thought. But only said, “Huh, it’s nice.”

He was surprised to see Kerry’s facial expression. He was expecting confusion, but that wasn’t what he seen in her eyes. No, what he saw was a snapping anger that he had never seen before. Her eyes were just slits, and her jaw was clenched. “That son of a bitch!” She hissed. “He promised me! He fuckin’ promised!” Then she started cleaning the bar. A habit she did when she was upset.

Michael sat the gun on the bar and reached out and took a hold of the hand that was scrubbing the surface. “Hey, calm down, Sis.” He said in a calm smooth voice that was his trade mark. “What did he promise?”

Kerry sat down on her own stool that was behind the bar. “Do you remember when Drako’s boys jumped you last fall?” She asked with a sad expression that made Michael wanted to give her a hug.

The question was rhetorical. Of course Michael remembered. It was after that day that all the local street gangs respect for him jumped about five notches. It was on that day that he got jumped by five people that had chains. It was right after he walked out of an underground gambling club that was in a back alley . . . He was the only one that walked out of that alley unassisted. Every one of them went to the intensive care unit in the county hospital. “Yeah,” He replied, needlessly.

Kerry moved her hand out of his grip and gave a big sigh. “Well, a gambler talked to Mr. Jacobson about it. He said that he saw the whole thing. And he said that what he saw wasn’t normal. That the fight was over and finished within thirty seconds,” She paused before continuing. “Now these are his words. He said, ëThat little blonde kid moved like a demon,” She finished, making and taking a shot of whiskey, grimacing at the taste.

“What does that have to do with anything?” He asked guardedly. He hated talking about his temper and the after effects.

“I over heard him say that you’d make a good person to go with David on his runs.” They both knew what them runs were about. David ran the drug and gun business. Supplying sixty percent of L.A.’s gangs with them. It was also a very dangerous job. David had been in at least six gun fights with those that didn’t want to pay for the merchandise.

Michael kept his face impassive. “And?” He asked.

Please don’t let him get mad. She thought. Kerry knew Michael hated being treated his age. “I made him promise not to hire you for anything that could involve blazing.” Her eyes were cast down like SHE was the younger one when she told what she did. She chanced a glance up and watched Michael’s jaw clench once, then twice. “Well, say somethin’.”

Michael looked at the gun, picked it up, and put in the back of his jeans so that his leather jacket covered it. After that was over, he took off his shades and looked directly at Kerry with compassionate eyes. “I can understand why you did that, Sis,” He started. “But you can’t blame Mr. Jacobson for using his resources the best he can.”

“I don’t like the idea of ANYONE using you, Mikey!”

“Sis,” Michael started. “Nothing will happen to me . . . I’m charmed.” He replied with a lopsided grin.

Kerry just shook her head.

Chapter One

Three Days Later

Taylar, Michigan 3:37 am

Patrolman Jack Winston never could, even years after, know why he went down that alley that night. Call it luck, call it fate, he would never know. But what he saw, or rather who, would give him nightmares for months after. He pulled his patrol car into the alley slowly, showering it with light.

And he saw two sneakers sticking out from behind a big trash can. Taylar was a small town and he had never seen a homeless person on the streets in his entire fifteen year stint with the police, but he saw there was legs attached to the sneakers.

As he got closer he noticed that his lights still wouldn’t show who those sneakers belonged to. So, after radioing in, he stopped the car and stepped out of it. The smell of the trash can reminded him of rotten food and rats. As he got closer, he noticed that jeans the person was wearing looked wet.

Now jack stood right in front of the figure. But the shadow cast by the trash can still obscured his vision. So, without really thinking about it, he pulled out his flashlight and turned it on. “Holy Mary, mother of God.” He managed to breath out.

The figure, a boy, was leaning against the wall of the building with a vacant look in brilliant blue eyes. But that was not what startled him so much. And it wasn’t the fact that the boy wasn’t wearing a shirt. No, it was the fact that the boy looked to be covered with blood from head to foot. His face was caked in it and Jack could barely make out the blondness of the boy’s hair.

Jack pulled his gun slowly, just in case. He didn’t know if the kid was dangerous or not. “Hey kid,” He started, getting close enough tap the kid’s foot with his own. “Hey kid, you all right?” He asked, tapping his foot against the boy’s again.

Jack noticed that the vacant look in the kid’s eyes never changed. Jack got brave and knelt down to the side of the boy. “Kid, can you hear me?” Leaning in to get a better look.

Jack would say in the police station later that he never saw him move. One moment he was griping his 9mm, the next he was on his back with the barrel pointed against his forehead. He looked past the gun and looked into eyes so wild that they would have given a demon a run for it’s money.

Jack knew to count his blessings after what happened next. The kid got a confused look on his face and his glacial blue eyes lost some of their fierceness. “You’re a cop.” He whispered in a ragged voice . . . And then feinted right on top of Patrolman Jack Winston.

Taylar County Hospital

Five Hours Later

Pain. Pain and confusion. These were the first things Michael noticed when he slowly started to wake. He left his eyes closed, from fear of making his head hurt more. What in the hell?? He thought, not knowing where the hell he was. The last thing he remembered was leaving the Red Razor with Mr. Jacobson to go meet David for a run.

What the fuck happened after that? He asked himself, his eyes fluttering open slowly. He looked at a white tile ceiling and heard a beeping noise. He also noticed that there was wires hooked to him. Hospital. I’m at a hospital. He thought, feeling a little better now that he knew a little about what was going on.

Michael took a quick check of what his body felt like. He felt pretty good, save for the pounding headache. He turned his head slowly to take in the room. It looked like a plain, ordinary hospital room. There was a small table beside the bed with a picture of what he assumed was water.

He took in the rest of the room, everything looked normal. Save one little detail: The cute blonde sitting in a chair on the other side of the room. She was wearing a light blue blouse with a pair of stylish slacks.

And her bright, vibrant sea-green eyes twinkled as she looked at him. “Ah, it lives,” She said in a voice that was like honey, as she stood up. She looked to be no taller than five-foot, and no older than him. She picked up the chair and walked over and sat it beside his bed. Sitting in it again.

Ignoring the pain in his head, Michael sat up straight. Careful not to pull on the wires. But the pain in his head was almost too much to ignore. “Head hurt?” The girl asked with a smug look. Pretty or not, the girl was starting to annoy him.

Michael just looked at her with an impassive expression. I gotta figure out how to get out of here before I become a ward of California again. He told himself. “Nah, it feels great.” He lied.

“You’re a horrible liar, Michael.” She said with a sparkly glint in her eyes.

Michael’s head jerked her way. “How the hell do you know my name?”

“I’ll tell you in time,” She started. “But I think I should tell you my name for now.” She said, scooting her chair closer, sticking her arm out. “Renae Jackson.” She added simply.

Michael reluctantly shook her hand. “I guess you already know my name.”

“I should, my mother adopted you about two hours ago.” She dead panned.

“If you’re trying to be funny, you need ta keep your day job.” He replied with more than a touch of sarcasm. What the hell is she talking about anyway? “Everyone knows it takes months and sometimes years to adopt.” And I’ll be damned if I’m going to go through my old life again. He shuddered at the thought.

“Actually, my Mom has a few contacts that most people don’t,” Oops, I think I pissed him off. She thought wryly, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. Looking at his cold eyes and clenching jaw, she was pretty sure she pissed him off. I can’t have him bolt, now that we’ve finally found him . . .

She watched as he turned his head and gaze away from her.

“Michael,” She started, laying a delicate hand on his shoulder. “Michael, look at me . . . please?” And there was the voice equivalent to honey coming from her lips. Thank god he’s at least responding.

Michael turned his head and leveled his gaze open soft green eyes that just exuded trust and honesty. “Myself and my mother have your old foster-care records . . . And I swear by everything that is holy, it will NOT be like that. Will you please trust me?”

Michael turned his eyes slowly towards the green-eyed beauty. Years of street wise sensibility told him not to trust the girl. His mind told him not to trust the girl. But, looking at the trusting and pleading eyes of the girl, his heart screamed something else.

The memories of the good times he had on the street were added up in his head, the memories of the bad were added as well. And Michael figured out right there, that the bad far out weighed the good. And Michael was about to do something that he had only did with very few people: Trust.

But just as he was about to tell the girl with soft green eyes “yes”, a nurse bustled into the room. And looked directly at Renae. “I’m sorry, but only family members are allowed.” The nurse was pudgy and from the way her face was made, Michael made the assumption that she was almost always in a foul mood.

Renae was about to about her mouth in protest, but the boy beside her did so first. “She’s my sister.” Mikey, my boy, YOU are losing your fuckin’ mind. He thought with a sigh. Ah hell, if it is bad, I’ll just pull a disappearing act like last time.

Looking at Renae, Michael would have sworn that she was going to pull a muscle because she was smiling so hard. He couldn’t help but to feel a little good about himself, because HE was the one that put that radiant look that she was sporting.

Then the nurse broke his reverie by speaking. “Would you like some water, Mr. Davidson?”

“Yeah. And some aspirin if ya got it?” He asked, trying to be polite. He didn’t know why, but he just didn’t like the nurse.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t give you aspirin until the doctor checks you over. You’ve been unconscious for hours.”

Shit, he thought, feeling the throbbing of his head. But he also felt his parched throat, which was beginning to feel like sandpaper. “Then water would be fine.” He replied with an internal sigh.

The nurse fetched his water and was going to hold the cup for him, but when she saw the coldness return to his eyes, she politely handed the cup to him with a small smile. “If that’ll be all, I’ll go fetch the doctor for ya.” She said. Michael didn’t say anything so she headed out the door.

Renae had been watching the whole thing with the same silly grin on her face. “You called me your sister.” Inside herself, she was jumping up and down.

“Well, don’t get to excited, kiddo. If this don’t work out, I’m GONE,” He replied, stressing the word. Why do they all talk so weird? The nurse and Renae don’t sound like they are from L.A..

“Well, first off, don’t call me ëkiddo’, you ain’t much older than me. And secondly, we sorta figured that anyway.” She replied walking over to her purse that was near the wall.

When she came back, she had a small bottle of aspirin in her hand. She flipped the top and took out three. “Here, I figured you would appreciate these.” Then handed them to him.

“If I wasn’t hooked to all these damn wires, I’d kiss ya.” Michael said with smooth charm.

Is he flirting with me? She thought, throughly amused. Two can play that game. “I could always unhook you.” She said with over exaggerated innocence, batting her eyelashes. Then, to her utter surprises, he gave off a very nice blush. “You know, you like VERY nice in pink.”

“Don’t start something that ya can’t finish, Blondie.” He said, wanting to grimace at the taste of the aspirin, but not in front of Renae.

Their eyes locked in an almost enchanted moment. There’s just something about this girl . . . Then his thoughts were interrupted, yet again, but this time by the doctor, or he assumed the man was a doctor.

“So, how are you feeling, Mr. Jacobson?” The balding man with a gray mustache asked him.

“Hell if I know. How DO I feel, Doc?” He asked. But he actually felt better since he chewed up those aspirins, his headache was receding. But when he looked at Renae, he noticed that she was giving him a disapproving look because of his rudeness. He couldn’t help it. Michael absolutely hated hospitals.

But the doctor, apparently, decided to ignore the sarcasm. “Well, all the tests we ran on you turned out fine. The only thing is . . .” He trailed off.

“What?” He asked, a kindle of worry starting to spark in his mind.

“The burn on your shoulder, it was pretty bad.”

Michael took on a confused look. “Burn? My shoulder don’t hurt.”

“Well, that’s the thing. It has us all confused. Even though it was a bad burn, it healed within three hours of you being here and left what looked to be what would some people would call a birth mark. But the design, it looked like flames.” He said with a confused look. Michael didn’t look surprised in the least. That confused him more.

Michael looked over at Renae. He had learned a lot of things by living on the street. Reading people was one of them. Renae didn’t have a confused look at all on her face, it was more of a look of indifference. She knows something she isn’t letting on. He thought with a little suspicion.

His attention was drawn back to the doctor when the man cleared his throat. “With the permission of your mother, we would like to run some tests on that . . . Because it is one of the most amazing things that we have ever seen here.”

He was about to tell the excited doctor that he had no intention of being anyone’s lab rat when there was the sound of a door opening. And in walked one of the most beautiful women that Michael had ever seen. She had long, midnight black hair that fell to the middle of her back and very deep blue eyes. She was dressed in much the same way that Renae was.

And when she spoke it was with a sweet albeit stern voice. “I don’t think that will be necessary, doctor. In fact. If you cannot find anything wrong with him, we’d like to leave right now.”

“And you’d be?” The balding doctor asked.

“Lace Carson, his guardian.” In more ways than one. Her thoughts added with a chuckle. I can’t believe we found him. She thought with a small sigh of relief.

“All right, you can leave as soon as you sign some papers, Ms. Carson.” And left the room. That boy is probably the biggest scientific discovery of the century . . . And she doesn’t even care. He thought angrily as he walked out of the door.

“Hey kid, you ready to get the hell outta here?” She asked with a blinding beautiful smile.

“Hell yes.” Was his only reply. Even though he still had his doubts about going with these beautiful women. What are the odds that everything will turn out all right? Not very fuckin’ high. But I can always bolt.

“Great, as you’ve heard, my name is Lace Carson. But you can call me, Lace. You’ve met Renae,” She paused. “You’re probably wondering WHY I would adopt you, aren’t you?”

Michael just gave her a reluctant nod.

“All in good time.”

I’m really getting tired of people saying that. Was his only thought.