The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Frieda put her boot up on the glove box and crossed her arms tighter. She ground her teeth audibly. Frieda’s mother’s, Sasha’s, hands tightened on the wheel.

“He’s how much older than you? Twenty years?”

“Not that much!” Frieda barked.

“It might as well be,” Sasha sighed. “This is for your own good.”

“But not my own happiness. And not Owen’s!”

“I don’t give two fucks about Owen’s happiness,” Sasha said. They drove by the turn off to their street. She wasn’t driving her daughter home.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going nowhere,” Sasha replied. “What we’re doing is having a real conversation about your choices. And if we’re driving, you can’t slam a door in my face if your only way out is a rough roll across the asphalt.”

“No wonder you’ve been speeding,” Frieda said. “He’s cute. The sex is good. I want more.”

“What kind of birth control are you using?”

“That’s between me and him,” Frieda frowned. They hadn’t been using birth control. She was too red-faced and angry, too embarrassed and fearful of her mother’s rage to admit it.

“You quit the pill to tamp down your goddamned mood swings,” Sasha sighed. “Besides you know he’s fucking other women.”

“And I am too!” Frieda growled.

“Other boys?!” Sasha’s voice cracked. “They’re younger than him, right?”

“Yeah, they’re all younger,” Frieda agreed. She ignored correcting the “other boys” assumption. Frieda had just told her mother that she was fucking women. It was Sasha’s fault if she didn’t get that. Fucking moms! They don’t listen.

“Frieda,” Sasha said, taking a heavy breath. “You never were one to date and you don’t know what these emotions are going to do to you. You’re an adult, I can’t make you do anything, but I’m not going to stop worrying about your wild behavior. If only you’d been more like your father.”

“God I hope not,” Frieda scoffed. “I want to be with Owen forever!”

“You always do at your age.” Sasha’s voice finally showed some consideration. “But you don’t know any better. I guess, I’m stuck with you making this obvious fucking mistake.”

“Fuck you!”

“I’ll forgive that one,” Sasha said. “Frieda, I—”

The light ahead of them turned red and the car slowed to a stop. Frieda bolted out the car door before the wheels stopped turning.

“Goddammit! Frieda!” Sasha shouted after her daughter. Frieda’s door hung open as the eighteen year old ran off. Sasha hated that she was right, there was no door slammed in her face.

Wendy tried folding her tongue. She tried blowing lightly. She tried nibbling with her teeth. Everything she tried just made Zera pull Wendy’s hair and say:

“Do better! You’re supposed to be some goddamned prodigy. For fuck’s sake.”

She was trying! She hadn’t been a lesbian before! Sex with boys, or boy more accurately, as she had only experienced—She closed her eyes and wobbled her face around Zera’s reddened mess of a pussy. Straight sex was easy. The boy did most of the work just wanting Wendy to be there. Zera wanted something from Wendy that Wendy had no idea how to give.

Besides, we’re in the fucking library!

The Sexton Campus library wasn’t big like the ones at Upper Campus. It only had technical sections and two communal study areas. Zera claimed their little corner was private and quiet but how could she know! People were like thirty feet away.

“Goddammit!” Zera cursed again. At least the words coming out of her mouth were hardly audible. Wendy worried that Zera was only being discreet for Wendy’s sake. If Wendy could handle the demanding lesbian, then Zera would quickly forget to be quiet. “It’s the boss.”

Wendy had her face pulled out of Zera’s pussy. Zera lazily rolled her skirt back down. She reached to the floor and shoved her panties into her boot.

“What?” Wendy asked, frightened.

“Big day, time to skip class,” Zera said. “Do you like coffee?”

“I do. Skip class! Dammit, but… It’s only enviro, I guess.”

“You’ll probably want to see if you can reschedule your late lab too,” Zera said. “Owen doesn’t pay much attention to our timetables.”

“If I—”

“Have you missed anything before?” Zera rolled her eyes. “Seriously, you’re the good kid. Everybody gets one. They’ll move mountains for you.”

“Not Dal.” Wendy took Zera’s hands and stood up. She brushed down her jeans but luckily the floor was clean and there was nothing on her knees.

“No, not the school,” Zera nodded in agreement. “The profs though, and the TAs. Now get that T and A ready.” Zera reached over and hefted Wendy’s tits. “We need to take you bra shopping. Or fuck it. Not me. Janice can do it. Or Liz and Darlene.”

“This is a booty call?” Wendy asked.

“It’s always a booty call,” Zera scoffed. “Boys.”

“And lesbians,” Wendy muttered. Zera had grabbed her three times today and all that had happened was Wendy had learned a dozen new ways not to eat pussy.

Katie hadn’t called home since she had checked in stepping off the plane. She turned her phone off. Three missed calls. Just a couple more days, right? Then she could tell her husband what the fuck she had run off too. Maybe she could even tell herself.

She white-knuckled the attache case she was carrying. She click-clacked her heels across the asphalt as she stepped around the snow. She had locked the pawn shop behind her and Kirk was parking just beyond the handicap spot before her. She frowned as a man and a woman got out of the back seat. Kirk dropped his forehead to the steering wheel and then stepped out himself.

“Maxim!” Katie put on her best smile as she reached tall, dark, and filthy rich. She accepted the hug and kisses on the cheeks. “You have been keeping very fit. C’est beau!”

“Your French remains even worse than Kirk’s, my dear,” Maxim said. The coldness was unmistakable. “You remember my associate, Giselle.”

He gestured to the tall beautiful woman in glasses. Katie saw it in Giselle’s eyes. The hate, the scorn, that was to be expected. The guilt, the recognition. Katie sighed. Giselle had something to do with Katie’s unmistakable urge to find that man again. Katie wanted to take Kirk’s car and drive madly after that feeling. She tightened her grip on the case in her hands and affected her fakest smile. It was hardly convincing. “Hello again, Giselle.”

“Bonjour,” Giselle could fake civility well enough to deserve an Oscar.

“Where’s Val?” Kirk asked. “No, I don’t care. Thank you for getting everything.” Kirk opened the case after thanking Katie. He nodded twice. He hadn’t slept in the last twenty-four hours. Maybe forty-eight. Katie wished she had the bandwidth to worry about him.

“Monsieur. Le banque,” Giselle handed a cell phone. It wasn’t a phone call, Maxim read the screen and then returned it to Giselle.

“C’est ma fille…” Maxim was unhappy but proud. “We need to know where Mr Lahey’s grandson is. You have everything you are supposed to?”

“Yes,” Kirk said, snapping shut the clasps of the attache.

“Ou est...Do we know where he is?” Maxim said. “I do not wish to remain in this frigid country a second longer than I must.”

“And this is just Halifax, back home in Alberta it’s…” Katie shut up. Halifax was cold enough for someone who wintered in Egypt.

Kirk’s phone rang. “Excuse me.” He gestured. “What?”

Kirk went white-faced as he walked away from the car for a bit of privacy. Katie, Maxim, and Giselle could hear his worry and anger, but Kirk stepped into the store to finish his conversation.

“Vous deux,” Maxim gestured between Giselle and Katie. He frowned at Katie’s response to his French. “Can you find him?”

“I don’t—”

“Almost,” Giselle said. “It’s not exact. Getting within five blocks is possible, but it could take hours rolling up and down a street if he was in one of the buildings and stationary.”

“That’s about right,” Katie said, not having tested how much her newfound magic radar had drawn her to Halifax from Edmonton. When she got on the plane, she had felt like she knew, to the millimeter, where she was going. When she got off the plane it was much more of a fog. Giselle’s nose scrunched as she frowned away Katie’s compliment.

“Merde.” Maxim drummed his fingers on his suit pants. “Call him.”

Giselle picked up her phone and dialed. It went to voicemail. She left a polite business-like ask-to-call-back-and-confirm message.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Katie said, shook her head, and snatched the phone from Giselle’s fingers. She redialed. Voicemail again.

“Your success is—”

“Oh, Owen!” Katie ratcheted her sexuality up to eleven. “I’m here with Giselle. She’s so-oo hot! I can’t handle her alone. You gotta call us, tell us where to go! I need you!”

She put the phone to Giselle’s face. Giselle looked darkly at Katie.

“Fais-le,” Maxim said, quietly.

“Katie’s breasts are so-oo big!” Giselle’s French accent played up the bimbo sound enough to piss herself off. When she mimicked Katie’s ‘so-oo’, Giselle had never been more embarrassed in her adult life. “They’re too much for one little girl, Master. Please! We need you!”

Katie yanked the phone back.

“Wherever you want us,” she rasped, huskily into the speaker and hung up. She tossed the phone to Giselle who scrambled to catch it. “You know what can happen with the coins.”

“Better than he does,” Maxim nodded. “When they’re mine, you’ll come with me. I’ll sell you back to your husband.”

“That can be done?” Giselle asked.

“I can’t separate you as a pair,” Maxim said, mockingly. “And I don’t want to deal with your shit.”

“She was with him,” Kirk interrupted the three as he returned.

“I’ll lock the store again,” Katie rushed past her worn down old friend as he trudged to the car.

“She’s going back,” Kirk said.

“Going back?” Maxim asked. “To Owen. Where is your daughter?”

“How am I supposed to know?!” Kirk growled.

“Wouldn’t her phone have GPS?” Katie put her hand on Kirk’s shoulder and handed him the keys she had borrowed. “Can you access it?”

“No,” Kirk shook his head. “We disabled our access to that when she turned sixteen because she had earned our trust.”

“Stupid,” Maxim said, in frustration. “Children cannot be trusted.”

“Vous pouvez accéder au mobile de votre fille, Maxim,” Giselle said. She was red-faced angry at herself for not having the solution Katie had suggested.

“Do it,” Maxim said. “Give Katie the phone. Kirk!”

“What?” He lifted his head. “I may not be the broker you need.”

“And yet I need a broker and I have you,” Maxim said. “And at this moment, I need you to drive.”

Maxim entered the back of the car. Giselle followed. Katie frowned and gave Kirk a hug from the side. She looped the car, sat shotgun, and took the phone from Giselle. “You’re going to want to back out and turn left on Robie.”

“Just tell me where we’re going and I can get there better than the GPS,” Kirk said. He started the car and backed out of the space. Unlike the others, he never bothered with the seatbelt.

“Hey.” Darlene skidded to a halt as the new guy stopped her. She turned, no longer wearing her apron, no longer wearing her customer service smile.

“Hi,” she said.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I was going to get a coffee,” Darlene said.

“Interesting,” he smiled, “I was about to offer to buy you a coffee.”

He was tall. He was cute. Tall. Polite and easy to laugh with. Tall. She could really like him. She smiled. She smiled up.

“I’m going to have to pass,” she said. It was like grade 10 again, turning down a guy because there was someone else. “Besides, I’m meeting friends there.”

“Are any of your friends cute?” he asked.

“Yes,” Darlene said. “And they’re all mine.”

“I meant the girls,” he laughed.

“I meant them all,” Darlene smiled. “You’re a cute kid.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m only 4 months younger than you,” he countered.

“Well, I date crusty old men then,” Darlene said. “Thanks for the offer though.”

“No problem, it was a good shift,” he said. “I’ll see you later, Darlene.”

“Yeah, I guess you will.” She smiled and walked out the front door. She kicked a concrete planter as she stepped off the stairs. He was so tall! Darlene frowned. She still had Owen, but that meant she had Janice and Roxxi and Tamara… Darlene was scrunching her face in disgust. “And Lizzie.”

“Excuse me?” An older woman asked as Darlene essed around her.

“Not you. Different Lizzie.” Darlene smiled.

“My name’s Marian.” The old woman said, but Darlene had long since walked away from the conversation. She dropped the smile and started up the hill. For fuck’s sake, she was going to have to buy her own coffee too, no doubt. Tonight had better end in an orgy! She pulled out her phone again.

“Things are going down this afternoon. All hands on deck.”

What was Darlene going to do to help? Carry a tray? Pour a beer? Suck a dick? It had better be a fucking tall dick. Owen had that going for him at least.

Darlene was humming happily when she waved to Zera and Wendy coming out of the engineering campus. The Chinese girl needed some backbone. Maybe a cock up her ass would fix her posture?

“If anyone calls… If my boss finds out… Shit!” Janice drummed her fingers on the sign she had just flipped to ‘Closed’.

“By that time I’ll be a millionaire,” Owen said. He was juggling one of the coins on the knuckles of his good hand. Elizabeth fussed over him, holding a frozen bag of coffee beans over his bruise. Roxxi rushed over and put out coffees for everyone. “Maybe I’ll buy you your own coffee shop?”

“Really?” Roxxi looked up. “I’d work for you, Janny!”

“If Owen told you to... Hell, if he said so, you’d play fetch for him and hump his leg after.” Janice mussed up Roxxi’s hair as she walked over to her cousin.

The coffee maker gurgled and choked, interrupting everyone.

Janice growled wordlessly, stomping over to see what had fucked up. Her anger had sent Roxxi away at a run. Owen caught her and hugged her. Natasha, returning from the washroom with Hafnan, slipped on spilled coffee. She managed to keep her feet pushing the muslim girl to the floor. Hafnan had her elbow slapped away by the edge of the nearest table.

“Jesus!” Owen pushed Darlene off but Elizabeth forced him into the seat.

“Merci…” Hafnan said. Carlos and Davy helped her to her feet.

“This is all so fucking strange,” Carlos said.

“Agreed,” Hafnan nodded.

“Hey! Natasha, you owe Hafnan an apology—”

“Don’t be simple,” Natasha interrupted Davy. “Owen, let us finish the deal.”

“Don’t be hasty,” Owen said. “I should call Kirk Marcusson. He’ll bring your father—”

“My father will cheat you!” Natasha cut in sharply. “I have the money and—”

“You have the money to purchase some of the coins,” Owen said. “I am not extending you credit and your father may not want to purchase the rest if I undercut him.”

“This is unfair!” Natasha shouted. “I have the money and—”

A pounding at the door cut Natasha off. The whole cafe, except for Janice off to brew more coffee, turned to the door. Darlene waved a mitten and pushed Wendy aside.

“See it’s unlocked,” Zera stomped in followed by a gust of cold wind and a colder Wendy. “Coffee!”

“Why are these idiots here?” Natasha scoffed.

“I prefer to have backup,” Owen smiled. “Hafnan come here. I want to look at that elbow.”

“It does not hurt,” Hafnan frowned. She grabbed her elbow.

“Do you even know first aid?” Carlos asked. “Look, I was a medic in the army. I’ll take a look at it.”

“You were in the army?” Darlene asked. “You ever kill anyone?”

“Dude, not cool,” Davy said. “It’s barely a bump.”

“For fuck’s sake!” Janice said, rushing out from around the back counter as more fists hammered on the door. “No one? Roxxi?”

“New people. They just knocked now,” Roxxi frowned. Janice scowled and let Jewel, the twins, and Tamara into the shop.

“Sit down and shut up,” Janice pointed to an empty section.

“Darlene just came in with the last knock,” Owen said. “Anyway, Hafnan.”

“Does it hurt?” Carlos asked the girl. She moved her arm.

“No,” Hafnan said. “I fell on my, um, sur mon derrière.”

“Just say ‘ass’. I know that’s a word you know. One of the first I taught you.” Natasha shook her head in frustration. “Now thank the nice men. Davy’s been very special to you. Perhaps you can find a broom closet you’d be at home in.”

“I hate you,” Davy said to Natasha. Hafnan hid a similar feeling poorly behind a helpful smile.

Owen sighed for the missed opportunity. Natasha was too keyed up. Owen set the coin box under his arm and stood. “Grab my phone, Elizabeth.”

“What?” Elizabeth said, rushing up to look around the chair Owen had just vacated. She didn’t see Owen waving his hip at her.

“I got it!” Roxxi rushed over and fished Owen’s phone from his pocket.

“I don’t think we should help here,” Davy said to Carlos.

“Elizabeth?” Carlos asked.

“It’s fine,” Elizabeth said.

“Do you want us here?” Davy asked explicitly.

“I do not.” Natasha shooed Davy to the door. Carlos set his jaw and crossed his arms. He sat down and glared at the heiress.

“Fuck,” Davy said. “Thanks… Roxxi?”

“Yes!” She beamed, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Lead me to the office,” he said. “I need to make some phone calls.”

Brett parked his pickup truck next to Elizabeth’s car. He slumped and gripped the wheel. He picked the coin from the passenger seat. He really wanted to go out into the woods, with a two-four of beer, and smash some shit up. That wasn’t his call anymore. He stuffed the old coin into his parka pocket and zipped it. He stuffed his hands into wool gloves and nearly opened his door into a bland silver gray sedan that zipped into the second last spot.

“Motherfucker!” The passenger said. Two men got out and scowled at the truck. “This is the fucker from the highway.”

“Irrelevant,” said the driver. He pointed to four women, two clearly twins, the other Jewel and—

“Oh motherfucker!” the passenger said.

“What?” asked the driver.

“That’s fucking Tamara. My ex. Shit. Why is she with Jewelie of all people! This is not good. Goddammit!”

“Who the fuck are you two?” Brett asked. He stood, at six foot four, eight inches taller than the taller man, the passenger. He had closer to a foot on the driver. They both looked at him, stricken by his intimidating tone and posture.

“I’m Jacob. Jake. Listen, my wife’s in there,” the driver said. “And her twin sister. I should be too.”

“I’m Brett. My ex-girlfriend,” Brett said. “Fuck, I’m going in myself.”

“Do you know what’s going on?” The passenger asked.

“That’s Paul.” Jake pointed with his thumb. “His fiancee’s the one with the brown hair. One of the ones with the brown hair.”

“Thanks Jake,” Paul scoffed. “Do you know what’s going on Brett?”

“There’s a guy in there with a broken arm that’s figured out how to take our women from us,” Brett said. “To start.”

“No one takes my woman from me.” Paul declared. He opened the backseat of the sedan and pulled out a backpack. He patted the small pocket, nodded as he began to unzip it, changed his mind, and slung it half-zipped onto his shoulder. “Let’s go see this piece of shit.”

Jake and Brett traded glances. They nodded, cursed, and agreed. They started across the parking lot.

“The place is closed,” Jake said, reading the sign.

“If my wife’s in there,” Paul said, “the door’ll open.”

“Keep a cool head,” Brett said, threatening Paul.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Paul said, having shrugged off the intimidation of the big man with the big truck and the bad temper. Paul had a goal, and when he had a goal, he had confidence.

“We’ll see,” Brett said. Paul scowled. They crossed the parking lot.

Frieda had been running since Clayton Park. Down the hill, through the Armdale Rotary, up Quinpool to Robie, along The Commons, banking Citadel hill, and into Janny’s place on Queen Street. Her legs were on fire. Her lungs sounded like a dog’s chew toy. Yet, it had taken her less than two hours. She cursed, seeing all of the cars in the little parking lot. Of course, her dad’s was there.

She dropped forward, her shoulders shaking as she slapped her hands on her knees. She marched, wobbling, there were blisters in her winter boots. Oh god, why hadn’t she called a cab?

Because by Quinpool she was already more than halfway there and not thinking about her mom anymore. She was going to have to get in amazing shape if she was going to stand out next to Zera and Elizabeth.

Why did getting in shape hurt so much?

She slung one foot in front of the other on her way to the front door. The sign said “Closed” but the cafe was full of shouting and madness. She texted Owen, Janice, and Val. “Here, can I come in?”

“It’s your dad’s apartment. You have your own goddamned key!” Val had typed back.

For the first time Frieda felt happiness through her pain. Her step-mom wasn’t here and—

The crack report of a small handgun matched the flash in the frosted cafe window. Frieda wasn’t the only woman screaming.

She hadn’t realized she had stood for minutes frozen and confused. Then there was a second shot.