The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive


Keywords: mf md nc

Disclaimer: If you’re under the legal age of majority in your jurisdiction, you should have been amply warned not to read this by now, but for the sake of the incredible levels of repetition demanded by lawyers I’ll say it again. This work of fiction is just that, fiction, any similarity to a real person or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Moreover, it’s a piece of fiction intended to be read by open-minded adults, and should not be viewed by minors. If you’re under eighteen years of age, you are duly warned to read no further, and the author disclaims all civil and criminal liability that might be construed to result from anything that happens to you if you do so.

Redistribution of this work is allowed under the following conditions. Firstly, it must be verbatim, and this disclaimer and boring copyright stuff must be attached. Second, you must not accept any payment for redistribution of this work, even if that payment is only to cover costs of the distribution medium. Third, you must email me at the above address to let me know that you’re redistributing it.

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* * *

Hendrik’s expression was as unreadable as any good contractor’s should be, but he wished it didn’t have to be. If he had the choice, he’d tell the noisy blowhard in front of him to either keep it down or piss off. Either way, there wasn’t a hope in hell he would take the guy’s business, partly because Hendrik just didn’t like him, but mostly because it just didn’t meet his standards. He took another look at the photo on the table in front of him. The hopeful had insisted on slapping it down right there at the restaurant table in public, despite the fact it wasn’t anything to be proud of: even in their wedding finery, even at the hands of an evidently talented photographer, they still looked like a couple of sweaty suburban hogs. He, evidently, was some middle manager, getting nowhere fast, but still making enough money to satisfy his taste for hookers, the younger the better. Looking at his wife, Hendrik could understand, but he still felt sorry for the whores. Finally, the whiny porker was done speaking.

“Thank you, Mr. Smith, I believe I understand your predicament, but I’m afraid I cannot help you.”

People were always surprised the first time they heard Hendrik speak. His name didn’t suggest it, but he was English, and an Old Harrovian with the accent to show it. Nor did he live up to the expectations that people invariably had of people in his line of work. His voice was too high in pitch to be menacing, and the overall impression he gave off was mild-mannered, milquetoast even. After all, if you went around looking like a stereotype all the time, he reasoned, how could you maintain an incognito? The whining had continued, and grown even more migraine-inducing.

“Mr. Smith, whoever referred you to me no doubt told you of my, ahem, professional standards. Fortune has smiled on me in my career, and I now only take on those assignments that I foresee enjoying. I’m sure you would agree that your wife does not have much in the way of... allurements to make readjusting her attitude worthwile.”

Evidently the man was accustomed to people doing as he told them, because he wouldn’t take a hint. What he could do, it transpired, was make a scene. Hendrik held his nose and whispered in the man’s ear:—

“Mr. Smith, if you persist in trying to solicit my services quite so publicly and obnoxiously, all you are going to do is draw attention to us and irritate me. If I become sufficently irritated, I may decide to take your wife’s side in this dispute, at a significant discount. Do I make myself clear? If you don’t want to be taken to the cleaners, all I can say is ‘find a good lawyer.’ Good day.”

Hendrik got up and left the hotel’s bar before the fat man could make any complaint. Mr. Smith shucked his tie and nodded to a young woman sitting by the bar. She acknowledged his nod and left the bar.

* * *

Mandy was intrigued. The rumours had evidently been true: there was only one way to buy the man she and most people who had ever heard of him knew only as “Hendrik”, and that was with the promise of a good-looking, female victim. Offers of an exorbitant sum had been shot down without batting an eye, so it was time to go with plan B. She caught up with Hendrik at the concierge’s desk.

“Um, excuse me, mister?”

Hendrik turned, eyebrows that normally sat mildly over unremarkable brown eyes raised.


“I think you left this in the bar.” Mandy held out a wallet.

“You’re mistaken, Miss. That isn’t mine.”

“Oh, sorry.” Just as Hendrik was turning away again, she said “I’ve heard of you. You’re Hendrik, aren’t you? You make people’s problem’s go away?”

Hendrik didn’t turn fully back to face her. “And you’re selling what?”

“Umm...” Mandy did her best to look embarrassed.

Hendrik’s eyebrows rose once more, but the look in the eyes below them was different, this time, more predatory. They took in Mandy’s body: lithe, toned and with enough curve to be pleasant without going over the top. Eventually, his gaze reached her face, which was scrubbed and only lightly made up, the better to add to her corn-fed Midwestern sex appeal. It was well faked, he surmised, but fake nonetheless. If she really was an escort she would do well to consider a career on the stage, given that her embarrassed submission to his scrutiny was quite flawless.

“Oh, so it’s like that, is it? Perhaps you’d like to speak to me in private, Miss...”

“Mandy.” She held out a hand. That was her first mistake. The limited contact of the handshake was enough for Hendrik to divine that she was a cop.

“Shall we adjourn to my room?” He asked. She just nodded and followed him. Once they were there she sat down on his bed, her legs crossed at the knee. He pulled a chair over and sat down facing her.

“Well, my dear, why exactly have you sought me out?”

“It’s my, uh... boss. Every night he tells me how much money I have to make, and if I don’t, he says he’s going to make me take it up my... you know.”

Hendrik nodded.

“I’m just trying to make enough money to take acting classes, and I don’t want to do anything... back there, so I always make the money he tells me to, and he just keeps telling me I need to make more. I know you only work on pretty girls, but if you just get him off my back, I guess I could pay you in, uh, services rendered.”

The story was terrible, Hendrik thought, though he was having no trouble looking interested. There was no doubt that Mandy met his exacting standards. She’d done a beautiful job of promising to pay him off with her body while playing the nervous neophyte hooker, and had messed up the seductive walk over to him just perfectly. He reached out a hand and placed his palm on her neck.

His touch felt hot, made Mandy’s head ache with the intrusion of his awareness onto hers. He knew that the man who had spoken to him in the bar was in fact a detective and her boss, he knew that he’d followed them upstairs and taken up position in the adjoining room, and he knew that she was wearing a wire.

“Well, Mandy, I may be able to help you, but unfortunately I have a prior engagement this evening.” She swooned against him, unable to stand because that was how he wanted her. “Call here again tomorrow, and I’ll do my best to accommodate you. OK?”

“Uh, OK.” Inside, Mandy was panicking, but her voice came out perfectly normal for the benefit of their audience. She felt Hendrik’s presence inside her head, felt him order her to leave, report in and return to him as soon as she could do so without arousing suspicion. Even as he released her, she knew she would be unable to do anything else.

“Excellent.” He said, brightly. “In that case I’ll see you then.”

* * *

Later that evening, as Mandy knocked on Hendrik’s door, she wasn’t scared. Part of her wanted to be, but an imperative against it had been left in her mind.

Hendrik answered the door.

“Good evening, my dear. I’m glad you could return so soon. Please come in.”

He stood to one side and she walked past him, outwardly confident. As she did so he touched her again, and she blacked out.

When she came to she was on his bed, naked. Her arms and legs were spread out, reaching for the corners. She thought at first that she was tied down but in fact, she discovered, she simply couldn’t move. Nor, she discovered, could she speak. Hendrik was sitting in the same chair as earlier, facing the bed.

“I hope your excuse for leaving convinced your boss. So should you, in fact, since you will be quite unable to move until I touch you again. It was very clever of the good detective to pinpoint my fatal weakness and send such a lovely young woman after me. A pity he didn’t know what he was letting you in for.”

He chuckled, softly, and Mandy shivered. The key of his voice had dropped a couple of tones and, though his physique hadn’t changed, his demeanour was now far more menacing.

“As no-one is better placed right now than you to know, I have a certain, talent, shall we say, for influencing the minds of the people I touch. I truly am gratified that you have taken such an interest in me, even if it is only professional, and I think I should show you everything you want to know. You won’t be able to report it to your superiors, of course, but you will remember every detail.

“You will no doubt understand, by now, that dissuading the trophy wives of men who can’t afford to indulge them from moving on to pastures new, or inducing professional women to become the secret sex slaves of the men over whom they have been promoted is easier for me than anyone could suspect. By keeping my methods secret and being successful at everything I undertake I have been able to make myself independently wealthy. What I told your superior was quite true: I now only take on those cases that I believe I will enjoy. You will appreciate that in order to keep my methods secret I have to spend rather more time with a subject than I need in order to accomplish my goal. I now only work when I can spend the extra time ‘getting my rocks off’, as you Yanks so quaintly put it.

“In one of those little ironies that fate likes to visit on us, however, I have found that the most pleasurable form of entertainment, for me, is old-fashioned one-on-one coitus with a willing partner. That, therefore, is what you are about to become.”

He placed a hand on her forehead and both of them closed her eyes, he in concentration, she in disorientation. When they reopened he was gratified to see lust smouldering in her eyes as she cast her gaze over his the quite alarmingly pallid skin of his naked body. She still couldn’t move. He brought his lips down to hers and she accepted them greedily, capturing his tongue between her lips before battling it with her own. As they kissed, his control lashed out into her mind again, and her position shifted; she raised up her knees, wrapping her thighs around him and crossing her ankles behind his back. Without further preamble he pushed the head of his dick inside her. He’d made her so that he made her wet; wet and eager. She pushed forward, impaling herself on him, and looked fire into his eyes, silently imploring his attentions. As he began to thrust she moaned with the feeling of getting exactly what she wanted, in ecstasy at the mere knowledge that he was inside her. She bucked against him, maximising the weight of every thrust. When the sensation of being inside her wasn’t forcing his eyes closed, Hendrik was mesmerised by the bouncing of her firm boobs, the sinuous way her toned body writhed beneath him. He worked aboard her with the vim of a sailor at the battle of Trafalgar, and with the surge of pleasure of a batsman striking the ball for six and winning the Ashes.

Soon he could hold back no longer, and shot his load inside her. While their bodies were still in such intimate contact he had no trouble slipping into her mind and putting her to sleep, whereupon he relaxed into her arms and did the same.

He knew she wouldn’t wake until he wanted her to.