The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Christopher, Craig & Co.

Part 13: David

David was obviously eager to try to pump me for information about slaves. He called twice Monday while I was at work. I arranged for him to meet me at home after dinner. If he was reluctant to come here he didn’t let on. In fact, he seemed unconcerned that I could be setting a trap for him.

Foolish little boy.

David arrived looking very un-coplike. He wore Luggs on his feet, baggy jeans, and a leather coat. When he removed the coat I realized he had a button-down shirt open a few buttons to display a wifebeater and a silver necklace.

“Come into the den, David. Make yourself comfortable.” I took his coat and hung it on one of the hooks inside the door.

“Thanks. I’m glad you offered to tell me about being a slave. I would like to serve a man.”

As I deposited myself in my usual chair I eyed him suspiciously. I had the distinct feeling he thought he was in control of this situation. It wasn’t so much in his tone, but in the confidence he was exuding. I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Are you sure that’s what you’d like?”

“Yes!” He nodded eagerly. Too eagerly.

“I hope you’re not in over your head, David.”

He looked quizzically at me. His eyes were brown today; I had been right about his contacts.

“What about being a slave attracts you?” I asked.

He seemed to falter for a moment, as though he hadn’t expected me to ask questions. He was probably used to being the one leading an interrogation. He pasted on a smile. “I’d like to be taken care of by a man I served.”

“Do you think you could give up your freedom?”

“My freedom?” he repeated.

“Slaves are bound to serve their Masters. They must surrender their freedom and obey commands.”

He lowered his eyebrows a bit. “Really?”

I nodded. “Can I get you a drink? I could use one.”

His smile was more relaxed now. “Thanks.”

I excused myself to the kitchen and poured a bit of white powder into one of the glasses. I stirred it and returned to the den, offering him the drugged glass. This was nowhere near the concoction I had been forced to whip up for Nick; it was simply a guarantee that David would feel relaxed while he was here.

He sipped it. “Thanks.”

I sat again. “You know, David, slaves are often mistreated. They can be beaten or starved or abused or even raped. It’s not as glamorous as you seem to think.

I downed half my glass. David followed my lead. He should begin to find it difficult to focus in minutes. Poor guy.

“Many slaves find that they can only concentrate on their Master’s voice. Their breathing slows, and they find it so peaceful and relaxing to breathe in and out... In and out...” I dropped my voice to the smooth cadence I used for inductions.

David blinked hard and shook his head.

“Many slaves find it so relaxing to listen to their Master’s voice. So relaxing to do what it tells them. So easy to forget their own thoughts and forget their own will. They only want to do what the voice tells them. They only want to breathe slowly, deeply, evenly. They only want to let their eyes slide shut...”

David was fighting to keep his eyes open. Though I was against pharmaceutical aids to hypnosis, for David I was willing to make an exception. As a cop he was a threat to me. And I needed to know what he knew. Since the chances of him willingly telling me in casual conversation were nil, I had to get creative.

“Relax, David. Let your eyes close. Breathe in and out... In and out...”

His eyes closed.

“David, it’s so easy to listen to my voice and do what it tells you. You like to listen to my voice. You feel good listening to me. You feel like my voice is carrying you along, helping you drift further and further into a state of deep relaxation. Right now I want you to let all the weight drain from your right hand. Just let your right hand become lighter than air and float up from the couch. That’s it. Good boy.”

His hand jerkily floated up at his side.

“You may lower your hand, David. Breathe in and out... In and out... Focus only on the sound of my voice and what it is telling you to do. Now, slowly I want you to remove your boots. That’s it, David. Reach down and take off your boots.”

He bent at the waist and pulled off first his right, then left boot, exposing white crew socks. I knew I liked this boy.

I picked up one of his boots. Size 8. Hmmm.

“David, breathe in and out, feeling much more relaxed with each breath. You like listening to my voice. You want me to keep talking to you. I’m going to ask you some questions and you will find it very relaxing to answer them. You will tell the absolute truth because you cannot lie to me. You must tell the truth whenever I ask you a question, almost as though you had been given a truth serum. Do you understand?”


“Good. What is your name?”

“David Rivera.” His voice was slightly slurred, but that probably owed more to the drugged drink than the hypnosis.



“Where were you born?”


“How old were you when you moved to the States?”


That explained the mild accent he spoke with. “What is your occupation?”


“Are you wearing a microphone or recording device now?”



“My pocket.”

“Take it out.”

He reached in his pants pocket and pulled out a tiny voice-activated tape recorder. I took it and pressed stop, setting it aside.

“Why are you working at Leatherman’s Club?”

“Boys have been disappearing and the department is convinced there some sort of sex slavery ring operating in town. I’ve been working undercover at the local bars. Leatherman’s Club seemed like the place to focus due to the nature of the clientele. And then there’s Leatherman.”

I frowned. “What about Leatherman?”

“I haven’t been able to run his prints yet, but I suspect he’s actually a former detective who left the force last year.”

Holy shit. David recognized Mitch?

“What was his name?”

“Mitch Driver.”

My heart was suddenly racing.

“He underwent some psychological problems and left the force. I have reason to believe he could be involved. He was working on the disappearances before he left. We think now he was on the take and was helping the ring recruit boys.”

Well, he was half-right. Mitch had been investigating Craig’s disappearance when the need arose for Mitch to, in fact, become a slave.

“David, I want you to relax more deeply. Breathe in and out... In and out... Each breath relaxes you further. Are you married?”




“Gay or straight?”

He hesitated. “Straight.”

“Are you sure?”

Another pause. “Gay.”

“Are you out?”


That’s what I thought. “Breathe in and out... David, you need a trigger. Hmmm. Five-oh slave? No, that’s no good. Closet Cop? Yes, I think that will do for you. David, every time you hear me say Closet Cop you will return to this state of relaxation. You like this feeling. You like listening to my voice and doing what I tell you to. Each time I say Closet Cop you will relax even deeper, finding it much easier to do what my voice tells you. Do you understand?”


“Remember, everything you say while you’re in this state of relaxation is the absolute truth. Now you will repeat after me and know that what you say must be true. Every time you hear me say Closet Cop you will return to this relaxed state.”

“Every time I hear you say Closet Cop I will return to this relaxed state.”

“Good boy, David. I will now count to three and you will awaken. You will feel completely refreshed and will not remember anything that we have talked about. But when I say Closet Cop you will go back into this very comfortable relaxed state. 1...2...3.”

David shook his head. He rubbed his eyes and looked at me. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“Closet Cop.”

The drug was still affecting him enough that his trigger should be easy to reinforce.

His eyes closed.


He opened them.

“Closet Cop.”

They closed again.

I repeated this process three more times. Satisfied that he knew his trigger well I decided to take a few precautionary measures.

“David, you will not report to your superiors any of your suspicions about Mitch Driver. Do you understand?”


“You will not get his fingerprints. Do you understand?”


And, just because I wanted to leave at least a small mark on the cute Guatemalan boy on my couch I went one further. “David, you will only wear white socks on your feet from now on. You are not allowed to wear any socks but white ones. Do you understand?”


“What kind of socks must you wear?”


“Are you allowed to wear black socks to work?”


“Good boy, David. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and Wednesday is Christmas. On Thursday you must return here at 7 pm. You must return at 7 pm on Thursday. Do you understand?”


“Put on your boots.”

He forced his feet into the tan Luggs.

I rewound the tape in his recorder and let it run until it had been erased. Then I handed it back to him. “David, put your recorder back in your pocket.”

He thrust the small device into his pants.

“When I count to three you will remember only that I told you about the life of a slave.” I smirked before adding, “And, David, you will find that whenever you talk about Masters and slaves or serving men you will begin to believe that you really would like to be a slave. Do you understand?”


I had gone a little heavy on the post-hypnotic suggestions. Lord only knew how effective they would be. He did seem to be pretty deeply under. “1...2...3.”

David looked at his watch. “I should get going. I’ve taken too much of your time.”

“Nonsense!” I said. “It’s been an interesting chat. Feel free to call again if you want to talk more about serving men. I only hope I’ve managed to dissuade you a bit from your desire to be a slave.” I grinned. If my suggestion had worked, right now he was wondering if being a slave wasn’t exactly what he’d like to be.

He got to his feet. I retrieved his coat.

“Thanks again.”

“No, David, thank you.”

To be continued in Part 14...

Christopher, Craig & Co.

Part 14: Chris’ Christmas.

I love Christmas. Always have. This year was no different. Miraculously I was the first one up. I stole quietly out of bed, showered, dressed, and crept downstairs.

I had been up late the night before making sure Santa came to Greenhill Road. The living room was crammed with presents under a large fir tree and the three stocking hung on the mantle were stuffed.

I started breakfast and sat down with a cup of coffee and the morning paper. It was going to be a great day; I could just feel it.

Wade ambled into the kitchen a short time later, yawning sleepily. His hair was tousled; he still wore his pajamas. He poured a glass of juice and sat at the table.

“Merry Christmas,” he said.

I returned the greeting.

“Where’s Craig?”

“Still asleep, I think. When he comes down we’ll open presents.”

Wade nodded absently. He got up and left the room.

I shrugged. He must be going to get dressed. I returned to reading my paper.

“CRAIG!” Wade bellowed. “Get down here!”

My heart had leapt into my throat. That was unexpected.

Seconds later Craig hurried into the kitchen, pulling on a robe. His hair was sticking out at odd angles. “What? What?”

“Merry Christmas,” I said. “I think Wade wants to open his presents.”

“I’ll kill him,” Craig muttered.

I stood and pulled him into an embrace. “You’ll do no such thing. It’s Christmas. Remember: peace on earth, good will toward men extends to Wade.”

Craig pulled away.

“Suit yourself.” I wandered into the living room where Wade was already nosing around under the tree. He looked up at me with a big grin on his face.

“That stack is yours,” I said, pointing to a mountain of gifts. “But open the little one last.”

His eyes lit up as he tore into the first box. Having Wade here for Christmas was fun—his enthusiasm was infectious. By the time he had finished unwrapping he had an entirely new wardrobe, and a new backpack to start classes with.

“This is the only one left,” he said, holding up the small gold box with the big red bow on it.

I collected the scraps of wrapping paper from the floor and shoved them in a bag. “Open it.”

He pulled off the bow, opened the box, and pulled out a ring of keys. He looked at me like I had told a joke he didn’t understand. “Keys?”

“To your new car.”

He stared at me, dumbstruck. Suddenly he leapt to his feet and peered out the window to the driveway before scrambling out the front door.

I donned my coat and grabbed Wade’s from the hooks inside the foyer then walked outside. It was freezing! But Wade didn’t seem to notice; he was busy checking out the new blue Chevy in the driveway. It was kind of sporty, with a spoiler on the back, but he’d be able to afford the insurance and I wouldn’t have to worry about him wrapping himself around a telephone pole.

Damn, when I thought things like that I sounded entirely too much like a dad. And I was too young to be a dad. I was much more suited for the part of really cool older brother. I grinned to myself.

Wade was sitting behind the wheel, the driver’s door hanging open, staring at me agape.

“Merry Christmas!” I waved my hands at the car like a game show host.

He nearly knocked me over, tackling me in a hug. “Oh, Chris, it’s perfect! Wow! I can’t believe you got me a car. Andrew will never believe it! And wait ‘til I tell Scott! I’ve got to call him. Maybe we can have lunch with him tomorrow so I can show up in my new car—”

I laughed. “Slow down, Wade.” I thrust his coat at him. “Put this on. Do you like it?”

He thrust his arms into the coat. “It’s the best!”

“Good, because it’s yours. Wait ‘til you get the insurance bill.” I rolled my eyes skyward.

“Chris, I never could’ve gotten something this nice. I figured I’d get some piece of junk that could get me back and forth to school and—” Wade stopped. He was looking beyond me.

I turned. Craig was standing in the doorway, arms akimbo, frowning. He had gotten dressed.

“Why don’t we go inside?” I suggested.

“In a minute, okay?” Wade asked.

I nodded and went to join Craig in the foyer.

“You bought him a car?” Craig said accusingly.

“Is there a problem?”

“Wasn’t that a bit extravagant?”

I sighed. “Craig, I’m certainly not strapped for cash. And if you must know I arranged to have Donald’s BMW sold and used the profits from that.”

“So it’s not in the barn anymore?”

“No. It’s only right that the money be spent on Wade. Consider it the one decent thing Donald did for him.” Unfortunately it would also be the last decent thing Donald would do. I wished I hadn’t let him die. I shuddered. It’s Christmas. I was not going to dwell on past mistakes today.

I reached for Craig’s hand. “Come see what you got.”

The roar of a motorcycle’s engine approached then cut off outside. I glanced out the window—and did a doubletake.

Andrew swung his leg over his bike and stood in boots, tight jeans, and a leather jacket. As he removed his helmet I saw that the beard he had been growing was now quite long and full.

I watched as Andrew picked Wade up in a bear hug.

That’s what Andrew was beginning to remind me of! A big bear!

Wade led the way inside, still beaming. Andrew wished us a Merry Christmas before giving Wade his gift—a gift certificate to a Tattoo & Piercing Parlor.

I pasted on a smile and turned to Wade. “Wade, why don’t you run upstairs and get ready? I’ll entertain Andrew.”

“I won’t be long,” he said to Andrew before taking the stairs two at a time.

“Andrew, let’s talk in the den.”

Craig looked at me suspiciously. “I’m going to make a call,” he said, and strode to the kitchen.

Andrew was seated on the couch, his legs spread wide, his hands folded between them. He looked at me expectantly.

“Shine your shoes.”

He was under before I sat.

“Okay, Andrew, this experiment has gone on long enough. A tattoo & piercing certificate for Wade? Are you nuts? Tomorrow you’re buying a new pair of shoes—something completely different from your last few pair—and then bringing them here. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good boy. I know you enjoyed being a biker, but you’ve gone too extreme. I let it get out of hand. The piercing and tattoo should have sent up warning flares. We need to settle you into something that won’t affect your schoolwork next semester. We’ll try something new and different tomorrow.”

I woke Andrew just moments before Wade bounded into the room. I considered asking him what type of Andrew he’d like next, but decided that wouldn’t be prudent. I had begun hypnotizing Andrew to allow him to explore different personalities—having one thrust on him by someone else—even his boyfriend—wouldn’t be right. Also, it would reopen a whole can of worms about teaching hypnosis to Wade.

Once Wade and Andrew departed for a test drive in Wade’s new car, I went looking for Craig.

He was seated at the kitchen table, still on the phone, rubbing his temples with his free hand.

“Craig?” I said softly.

He jumped, startled. His expression seemed almost guilty. What was that about?

“I’ve got to go now,” he said into the phone. “Merry Christmas. ‘Bye.”

“Who was that?” I asked, mildly curious.

“Oh, um, Alan. I just wanted to check on him.”

I shrugged. “Everything okay?”

“Yes! Why wouldn’t it be?”

Something seemed off, but I had decided to let Craig handle his own mess with Alan. It wasn’t my place to meddle. If he needed help he knew to ask for it. “Well... you still haven’t opened your presents.”

“I didn’t give you yours yet.”

“I know what I want,” I said. I tugged him out of his chair to his feet.

“But Wade and Andrew—”

“They won’t be back for a bit.”

“Do you want to put me under?”

“No, I want you awake for this.” I kissed the back of his neck.

“Would you tie me up?”

“If you’d like...”


To be continued in Part 15...