The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Corruption of Candace Kraft

Chapter 2

The Doctor wasn’t sleeping well. It was the excitement; he was dozing for maybe half an hour at a time, and it would take him an hour or more to nod off again.

Bimbeau was pretty happy, all told, with the first few days of testing. It had taken long enough—more than long enough—before he felt ready to test, but he’d known he would only get one shot at this. And Candace had gone under well. The process, according to his maths, lasted about 36 hours, which was plenty of time to reindoctrinate her every morning.

There were still time considerations, of course. Angus Kraft couldn’t help but get suspicious soon. He needed the next breakthrough and to vanish.

Fortunately, she was proving once again that she was much, much smarter than he was. Not that she knew that any more, or could believe it even if it was proved. Having her defer to his genius was… well, it wasn’t the best part of all this, but it was definitely up there.

Lying there in bed, far before dawn, he looked over the slumbering form beside him, contentedly wrapped up in the mind he’d twisted for her. She was certainly beautiful, certainly a stunner, but he still had plans. And yet… ownership was mellowing him.

“Hear and accept,” he instructed, his voice low and soft to not wake her up. “I’m going to start referring to you as slave.”

The trigger phrase used, his words went straight into her hindbrain to take root. She gave a happy little moan, still sleeping, and he had to suppress a delighted laugh.

He reached out for her, resting his hand on the swell of her hip. It was good to have someone else in the house again. All the same, though, while he’d never have dreamed of brainwashing his wife, the fact Dr Kraft was a brainwashed puppet made it all the better. He started idly stroking up and down her thigh, studying the curves of her body from behind, then slid himself closer across the bedsheets and spooned around her, his hand tracing up her belly to cup her breast, let his fingers tease out her nipple, tug gently…

She was warm and yielding against him and, in total honesty, he was delighted by her, by the new her. Seeing a genius like her treat him with reverent respect, with desire when he wanted it… it made him feel fantastic. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t noticed her reactions to his… well, his decline. But that silent judgement was gone now, replaced by just ‘Yes, Doctor.’ It was too much for a man to stand.

“Don’t wake up yet,” he said quietly, pushing her shoulder down so she lay on her back. “But part your legs and lift them as high as you can.”

Her eyes were still lightly closed, her breathing slow and even, as he drew the covers down and her legs parted, rising, into a V. She was flexible for her age; her knees were almost level with her breasts as she lay there. Her parted thighs gave off a light scent of arousal; his fingers, exploring, found her growing wet, just as she was programmed to, her nipples perking up and hardening, even as most of her body still slumbered.

So well trained she didn’t even need to be awake to carry out her orders… He could get used to that.

He ran his fingertips lightly along the inside of her thigh, watching her body twitch against the need to stay just as he’d posed her. When the pleasure and the control were straining against each other, there was no room for anything else.

Moving to kneel between her open legs, he carefully lined himself up, then, with one hand braced against her thigh, one against the mattress, he entered her. He paused, there, knowing Candace was only half-aware but fully controlled, taking a moment to take her wrists and pin them against the pillows, anchoring her down before really getting started.

It wasn’t just his imagination, he decided; she was already working with him, half on instinct, half through programming, even without being awake. And through her body’s reactions, he was confident all the pleasure he’d programmed her to feel was taking hold. (Why not guarantee he’d always be successful that way, after all? He was already ‘cheating’ so many other ways.)

He let himself enjoy her, taking his time, loving her lack of reactions and her reactions, before saying “Wake up.”

Her eyes opened and almost immediately opened wide, drinking in her new reality. She squealed in delight, her legs wrapping around him from their V. Both of them holding the other, both pinning the other. But only one with hooks in the other’s mind.

Candace was very vocal. He wasn’t sure if that was programming, personality, or a mix of both. Her cries of “Yes, Doctor! DOCTOR!” became screams in almost no time.

Not that he was complaining… He was too focused by that time on what her body was doing for him now it had a mind in charge again. An older woman with tricks he’d been far too occupied with his studies to pick up, so far in his young life, whose mind had been re-sculpted to prioritise him above her every time… he hadn’t even considered it, but in hindsight, he should have known she was going to blow his mind the moment she stopped fighting his control.

Afterwards, he sagged against her, releasing her wrists. She half-cuddled, half-stroked—he got the impression she wasn’t sure what he would want—until he rolled back over. “Good girl,” he said, half-absently.

“Thank you, Doctor,” she replied in a sleepy purr.

He reached back out and patted her thigh possessively—and that was when they both heard a thunderous banging at their door.

Bimbeau looked at the red light of his alarm clock. “Three am?”

He groaned and rolled onto his side. “Go deal with them then come back,” he instructed.

“Yes, Doctor,” Candace replied.

* * *

Unlike the Doctor, Candace was now wide awake and perky. While he still had energy to burn, he was clearly feeling a toll from his recent efforts.

She had borrowed his robe to go downstairs; it was warm and smelled faintly of him, something that was now an attractive benefit to it, not a minor irritation. Still, she kept it closely wrapped against her; it was too damn cold to be up and about for any reason other than the Doctor’s orders.

When she opened Bimbeau’s front door, she came face to face with a Cantonese woman somewhere between her age and the Doctor’s, late twenties or thereabouts, also wearing a robe, with terrycloth pyjamas visible beneath, a pair of fluffy bunny slippers, and a deeply sour expression.

“Well,” the woman said tartly, “I gather you’ve had fun.”

Candace blinked. “Hello?” she asked.

She jerked a thumb to one side; indicating, Candace belatedly realised, the terraced house to the left. The one whose walls were also the Doctor’s bedroom walls. “Every night for a week you’ve woken me up now,” she griped. “Enough’s enough. You might be rich enough for flash cars, but that doesn’t mean you get to disturb everyone’s sleep, does it?”

Enlightenment dawned. “Ah…”

The woman nodded firmly, sensing victory. Candace found herself irritated by her attitude, probably unfair, but still…

Doctor Bimbeau had just told her to deal with this woman. He hadn’t specified how.

“I think I see the problem,” she said, stepping back a pace in the doorway. “Why don’t you come in for a second?”


“I know how to make it up to you.”

The woman looked completely wrong-footed by this. She rallied with suspicion. “What’s this all about?”

“It’s a weird story, but it’s easier if I show you. You could benefit from this.”

She didn’t look like she believed that, but she stepped into the house, clearly more curious than suspicious. Candace felt the satisfying glow of someone who’d correctly chosen their play.

Keeping her eyes well away from the screen, Candace flipped on the monitor sitting on the kitchen table.

“I don’t see how. Unlike some, I’ve got work to go to in the morning, and—” Her sentence trailed off as Candace’s fingers found the degauss button, triggering the pulse. Even looking away from the screen, Candace felt better for the light in the room—or possibly for the thrill of subordinating someone else’s will to the Doctors. But that couldn’t be right, could it?

Rather than pursue that internal inquiry, she pulsed the button again, remembering with a grin just how fried her head had felt at the equivalent point.

“What’s your name?” she asked.


“Well, Lucy, you’re going to have to wait here for the Doctor to deal with you. The Doctor’s always right.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Oh, I’m not the Doctor, I’m—well, I’m a doctor, but—” She wasn’t sure why this was flustering her but she also found she didn’t like thinking about it. “Never mind. You may be waiting a while. You’re allowed to stretch, just not to look away.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

It still felt wrong, but… well, the Doctor would know how to fix it. Candace moved around slowly, taking care not to let her eye be caught by the screen, and closed the front door. Walking backward carefully, she nevertheless diverged from the straight line she imagined and bumped into Lucy. Standing back to back with her, she felt behind her, hand on the other woman’s hip, and a thought struck her—actually two thoughts in quick succession.

“Is anyone else in your house?” she asked slowly, feeling her stomach sink at the idea she might have to solve a deeper problem to obey the Doctor’s order.

“No, Doctor.” Her sudden stress went out with a heartbeat and she sagged. There would be other problems, but they could be dealt with.

She took a step to one side and fell back another couple of paces so she could look at Lucy without risking the screen, then reached out and undid her robe, gripping the sides and tugging down. Then she started unbuttoning the woman’s pyjama shirt, delighting despite herself in the total lack of resistance. This was me, she thought. I was this powerless to resist. I still am.

God, that was so wonderful.

She left Lucy standing there topless, staring helplessly into the screen. “About every half an hour, push the red button,” she said over her shoulder. Lucy was certainly beautiful, but she didn’t have Candace’s curves. She hoped the Doctor would appreciate more than the curves, but she was prepared to be wrong.

When she slipped back under the covers, the Doctor raised a groggy head. “All good?”

“Yes, Doctor. As you ordered.”

“Good,” he mumbled. “Good slave.”

It was the first time she’d heard herself described that way. She shuddered with the hard, fierce joy flooding through her.

* * *

By the time her scheduled-and-programmed morning blowjob had been carried out, Candace had completely forgotten Lucy’s existence. She followed the Doctor downstairs and almost ran into him when he stopped dead at the kitchen doorway.

“Something you need to tell me, Candace?” he said, after a pause of ten seconds or so.

“Oh! Doctor, this is Lucy.”

The captivated woman mumbled something. She was too far away to make it out clearly but she imagined it would be “So you’re the Doctor,” which, in her defence, she had tried to tell the woman. Of course, sometimes it took some telling. She hadn’t realised how wonderful the Doctor was until after she was forcibly shown, after all.

“And Lucy is…?”

“Our guest from last night, Doctor. She was upset to… hear I pleased you.”

It took him a couple of moments to work that out, then he laughed. He crossed to a kitchen door and took out the polarised glasses he used to protect himself from the screen.

“Go on round and join her,” he instructed. “Hold her hand.”

“Yes, Doctor.” As she hurried to comply, she saw Lucy twitch, wanting to follow orders herself though she knew it wasn’t really directed to her.

As soon as she was in position, Candace gave herself happily to the screen. She loved it when the Doctor brainwashed her further. She loved it when he just… stopped her own will reasserting itself.

There was no way those weren’t programmed impulses but, she realised, she was basically fine with that.

Her fingers intertwined with Lucy’s. She felt a firm, eager grip—an edge of a command actually directed to Lucy that she could obey. As Lucy did, Candace heard a soft, reassured sigh. She understood only too well.

“So who are you, Lucy?” the Doctor asked. “What do you do?”

“What do you want me to do, Doctor?” she answered softly. There was a moment of silence before he laughed. “What’s your job? Do you have family to look after?” Candace felt her fingers twitch with emotion. For all the hours of indoctrination she’d just stood through, she was still new to a life Candace had come to embrace.

“I’m a receptionist. I don’t look after anyone,” she said. After a moment she volunteered more information. “I have a boyfriend, though. And I could do better than receptionist.”

The Doctor clucked his tongue, thinking. “Boyfriends are easily solved,” he said. “But I think you might be about to lose your job.”

Candace braced herself. She could see this falling apart if Lucy fought back on that…

“Whatever you say, Doctor,” Lucy said calmly, and Candace relaxed. It was so nice to see someone else acknowledge that the Doctor was always right.

“Come here, Lucy,” he instructed. “Candace, go back to your morning routine.”

She felt the hand leave hers as they chorused “Yes, Doctor.” And then, as she began to push the button, she lost track of the Doctor’s conversation with Lucy entirely.

* * *

The next time Candace was really aware of the world around her rather than glorying in an empty mind, scrubbed clean of thought anew, she was behind the wheel and on the road. Rhythmic wet sucking from behind her told her immediately where Lulu and the Doctor were and what they were doing.

Wait—Lulu? That was the name her mind automatically filled in for the Doctor’s newest slave now. She was sure it hadn’t been, once, but what the name would have been beforehand, she had no idea. It took her a moment to even remember their destination, though as she was dressed for work and it was a Friday morning, it really should have been obvious.

“I have a seminar I’ll have to teach at nine, Doctor,” she reminded him.

“I know. And I want you relatively hard to find after that—your husband catching you up is exactly what I don’t want. I’ll need you to help me build the Tiara.”

“Of course, Doctor.” It was such a shame he worried about her family. She didn’t have to, so it was a pity he spent so much time on them. If Angus and Kara showed up tomorrow, she’d side with the Doctor. (Here, there might have been a lot of doubts; the Doctor would lose handily if Angus decided to be violent. But Candace didn’t worry about that, or anything about her family.)

Candace saw the Doctor and Lulu safely into their office and collected her paperwork for her seminar. She was almost out of the room before it occurred to her to check that her outfit was suitable for a wider crowd rather than the ‘reduced’ wear she had been limited to in the office.

Fortunately, she was quite presentable. A greater angle of her curves was on display than her students usually saw, but well within the bounds of propriety.

Lulu was properly dressed, too, albeit with a lower neckline and higher skirtline than Candace—and she had to admit, the legs revealed were spectacular. If any criticism could really be levelled at her appearance, it was that she was dressing a little young for the age estimate Candace had made.

There was every likelihood that this was something the Doctor had arranged for or planned, but Candace’s earlier zoning out meant she didn’t know.

Nodding to herself, satisfied that everything was as it should be, she made her way to her seminar room, her mind on how frustrated the Doctor was. That just wasn’t right. The Doctor probably wasn’t happy. When the Doctor was happy, Candace was happy.

She sat with a class of second years for an hour. It was important to the Doctor that nobody suspect she was brainwashed, so she led the class as well as ever, she felt, but her mind was absent more often than not, still dwelling on the frustration that the Doctor might not be happy.

Some of the questions she was fielding perhaps deserved deeper answers from her, but mostly they received deflection. She listened to her students debate ideas and attempt to tease some wider knowledge out of them while she limited herself to confirming or denying these extrapolations.

She was beginning to see that there might be more to being a pleasure provider than just sucking the Doctor’s cock. And with that, she wondered anew that Lulu had offered extra information without waiting for the Doctor to request it. Was that insightful, not presumptuous? She’d been so sure that the Doctor was right that answering questions he hadn’t chosen to ask seemed like a terrible idea.

Was the best single thing she’d done to please the Doctor going to turn out to be bringing him Lulu? She hoped not. Her greatest achievement surely shouldn’t be an accident.

All told, having an hour to herself, without the Doctor’s pleasure to distract her or work to do, was probably why she left the seminar room with the plan she had.

* * *