The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive


mc mf

Note: This story is a hypnofantasy. It contains adult language and situations, and features fictional characters doing illegal, immoral and/or impossible things to other fictional characters. Please do not read any further if you are under the age of consent in your community, find such concepts distasteful, or want to do illegal, immoral and/or impossible things in real life.

Copyright © the author, 1998. Permission granted to re-post to any electronic medium, as long as no one’s being charged to read it, and that this disclaimer and the above e-mail address are not removed.

Inspired in part by certain scenes in Dean Koontz’s novel Night Chills, a must-read for any hypno-fetishist

Comments welcome.

* * *

Marcia leaned back in the leather seat and gave one last satisfied primp of her tight helmet of blonde hair. She smiled as the streetlights rolled silently past outside. It was all going according to plan. Under her careful tweaking and controlling, that little fool Phelps had been salivating putty in her hands. And now, tonight, she was sure the little shrimp would finally screw up his nerve and propose. Why else would he insist on sending the limo around to pick her up, and meet her at whatever restaurant he’d booked? She’d accept, of course, and then, in a few short months, (June.. a good time for a wedding..) what remained of the Phelps millions would at last be in her capable hands. It was a pity the twerp’s father wasn’t still alive, and still running up the bank balances..

And six months or so after the marriage, hubby would have his fatal accident. Even the most tractable and pliant husband could cause problems- better, much better if the money was hers and hers alone... Automatically, she again checked her hair and makeup in the mirror. Her blue eyes stared back, chips of diamonds at their center.

The limo pulled to a stop, and the driver hopped out and briskly marched around to open the door. As she stuck her long stockinged legs out onto the cold night street, Marcia spared a moment to once again admire the tall dark-haired man’s.. impressive.. frame that filled out his snug starched uniform in all the right place. Definitely going to keep him on the payroll...

They had stopped at a small, extremely exclusive, French restaurant, one that the city’s food critics discussed only in reverent whispers, lest the chef become offended and quit. Marcia’s internal anticipation mounted, although her carefully polished exterior remained flawless and impenetrable. Physically and mentally dismissing the chauffeur, she swirled up to the elegant frosted-glass door and stepped inside. A maitre d’ materialized out of the tastefully-arranged shadows, with the breed’s usual oxymoronic combination of sneering and fawning.

“Ms. Harnolt. Mr. Phelps is expecting me.”

“Of course, Mademoiselle. This way, please...”

He escorted her through the darkened restaurant, past the tables and elegant couples, each floating in an isolated pool of light, and into the back of the establishment.

Phelps was waiting for her, his stoop-shouldered form sitting at a table for two, a solitary isle cast far off from the rest of the restaurant’s archipelago. The tinkly background music was even more muted here. As they appeared, he hopped to his feet and gave a watery smile.

“Hello, Marcia. You look lovely tonight.” The maitre d’ genuflected and dematerialized as Phelps came around the table.

She unleashed her smile briefly, quickly hauled it back into its cage. “Hello Jeffrey, my darling.” Gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Jeffrey helped her off with her fur wrap, and hung it carefully on a nearby hook. Then he pulled out her chair, and she gracefully slid into place, ‘accidently’ adjusting her sheer white dress as she did so. Jeffrey scurried back around the table and resumed his seat, ringing a small bell as he did so. A glum-looking waiter loomed up, carrying a silver tray, on which stood a bottle wrapped in a white cloth and two tall stemmed glasses. Jeffrey took it from him, and said in his nasal tone:

“That will be all for now, Andre. I’ll ring the bell when we need anything.”

The waiter bowed silently and departed. Jeffrey applied pressure to the cork, and it popped out, followed by a surge of foam. Shaking it fussily off of his hands, he poured out the contents, and held out one of the glasses to her. She took it.

“To us.”

Marcia flashed her smile again, and returned the toast. Taking a small sip, her iron control cracked for just a second and a tiny sliver of genuine pleasure slipped to the surface- it was easily the best champagne she’d ever tasted.

“It’s lovely.” Jeffrey beamed. She took another, larger, sip. Jeffrey finished off his glass in two nervous gulps, and poured out a little more. He then reached into an interior jacket pocket and fumbled out a black box. “This... this is for you. I hope... I hope you like it.”

“Oh, Jeffrey. You shouldn’t have.” She accepted the box in one gloved hand and popped it open with a practiced motion. Instantly, a wave of conflicting emotions washed over her, although her well-trained lips never so much as twitched. It wasn’t a ring, but it was...

She reached slowly into the box, and pulled out the chain, dragging the enormous diamond out into the flickering candlelight. It swung beneath her hand and sparkled in the glow from the flames, sending out strange multi-colored after-images. She blinked, and shook her head. It was strange, but all of a sudden she couldn’t bring the diamond into clear focus. It twirled slowly at the end of its long chain, sending ripples out and out and out... ripples that seemed now to pulse in time to the suddenly-loud music... She stared, fascinated, as her head slowly filled with music, and light, and layer after layer of cotton wool...

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Jeffrey’s voice, although very far away, suddenly sounded different, oddly compelling. “Isn’t it fun.. isn’t it pleasant.. so very pleasant.. to just watch it spin? Around and around...” And then his voice was gone, and there was only the diamond, spinning... spinning...

Marcia groaned, and opened her eyes. Blackness. It didn’t matter if her eyes were open or closed. Something was pressing against her face, her temples and cheeks, shutting out the light. She struggled, tried to move, to rise up from her prone, spread-eagle, position. Her muscles pushed against something soft, warm and unyielding, like a mass of marshmallows shot through with steel backbones. She tried to yell, but all that came out of her mouth was a blurred gargle; something had been inserted between her teeth, forcing her jaws apart.

She was naked.

Then she heard his voice. Phelp’s voice.

“Awake, are we? Good...”

There was a click, and suddenly, there was a miniature Jeffrey, hanging eerily before her in the darkness. She felt a vague throbbing at the base of her neck. She tried futilely to spit out whatever was in her mouth, and curse him. Then she looked more carefully. The same Jeffrey but... different. Taller? More... more.. more everything... like the Jeffrey she’d known had been a cramped and stifling mask for this stranger... He smiled, the smile of a wolf, and spoke.

“Ah, my darling Marcia. At long last. I think we’ve both been looking forward to this night for so long. Well... I know I have. Finally, tonight, we lay the foundations for our true relationship.” His image began to grow, his feet and legs smoothly disappearing into the softly pulsing darkness. A prickling sensation began to spread up over her skull. “As you were no doubt expecting, marriage will be a part of it. But it will be more, so much more. We’re soul mates, you and I. We see something we want, and we immediately begin plans on how to take it, make it ours. You’ve wanted my money, and I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you. Of course, you planned it that way. That ‘accidental’ meeting at that charity banquet. Very slick, very smooth. Anyone else would have fallen for it. But I’m not anyone else. I’m me.” His face now floated massively before her, and he laughed, a cold, precise, sound, totally different than his usual nasal snuffling. The soft puffiness was gone, and the lines in his face were hard and sharp. For the first time in many, many, years, Marcia Harnolt began to feel true fear, fear that seeped down into her bones. She hadn’t felt this way since... since her father...

“Where to begin, my dear? Ah, I know. You remember that great fop, Jeffrey Ingerhold Phelps? That fellow you met for dinner tonight? The little fool has barely able to keep his inherited holdings together, been prey to every golddigger in the tri-state area. I suppose most everyone knows him, but I’m going to let you in on a little secret. He doesn’t exist. He never has. I made him up, when I was eighteen years old. And you know why? No? Well, I’ll tell you, and I think you’re uniquely qualified to appreciate this.” He paused theatrically. The darkness around him squirmed unpleasantly...

“It was all because of my father, the revered man of high finance, the one whose name is still discussed in hushed whispers when captains of industry meet.” His voice dropped into acid bitterness. “Stanley Johanson Phelps. Tycoon. Man of the world. Drunkard. Liar. Cheat. Fool. When I was eighteen years old, I learned almost by accident that Phelps Industries was on the verge of bankruptcy. Somehow dear ol’ Dad had managed to keep this fact a secret, but, inevitably, it was going to come out, and everything my grandfather built up would have been washed away. Forever.” Another pause, framed by more squirming. Long, multicolored, worms crawling in black, rotting, soil. “My grandfather. My true father. Everything I am I owe to him, and I never forget that. and never will. We had so little time together...” Mentally, he turned back to her, the worms blossoming into vile pinwheels that spiralled behind him, rank upon rank...

“In the next three years after that day of discovery, I saved what Grandfather had built. The things I had to do.” He shook his head in mock condemnation. “Confidentially, my dear, I committed enough crimes in those three years to get me the electric chair a dozen times over, if anyone ever found out. But it was worth it. Every bribe, every bit of blackmail, every forged signature, every last death. I saved most of the company. And what I couldn’t save at first, I eventually got back. Every dime. Every painting. Every inch of land.. Today I own everything grandfather did, and ten times more, although under twenty different names.”

“I had my father killed, of course, once I reached the age of twenty one, and could legally assume the family holdings. It was the merciful thing to do. The drinking was out of control by then. If I had cut the strings holding him up, he’d have dissolved into a puddle of gin-soaked goo. This way, he kept his reputation, his place in this fine city’s historical pantheon. I know the truth, and that’s all that matters.” The pinwheels spun and oozed, dripping streamers of poison.

“But why adapt that ineffectual persona, you may ask? I realized that Grandfather made one, and only one, mistake- he married the wrong woman, and she gave him the wrong son. I vowed that this would not happen to me. And so, starting at the age of twenty-one, upon inheriting my father’s estate after his tragic demise, I set myself up as a target, calling out to the ruthless women of the world, the crafty, the cunning. Women like you, Marcia. And they came. Oh, how they came. They came in droves. And you were the best of them all, the best by far. Beauty, a cold, steely, intellect and utter, absolute ruthlessness. Our children will be magnificent. They will be titans. They will rule the world.” Amidst the pinwheels, his face swirled in on itself, like water pouring down a drain, then reversed the procedure, leaving her looking at two massive gray eyes..

“Yes, Marcia, I know all about you. Everything. You covered your tracks very well, but I can afford to hire the very best of everything, including reconstructors of people’s lives. And after that enchanted meeting at the ball, I immediately put those people to work. I now probably know more about you than you do yourself. I had to, for all of this” the center of each pupil, a massive, all-encompassing explosion of splattering color.. “to work. I know about your father, and what he did to you and your mother, and what you finally did to him.

...That was very impressive, by the way; the day I received that particular report I wept. Nobody even suspected you, did they? Almost on a par with my father’s accident, and I had millions of dollars to spend...

I know about the arrests, and the abortion, and the drugs, and all the rest. And I don’t care. Because it merely proved that you were the one I sought. Because after all of that, here you are, moving in high society, on the brink of marrying the richest man in the city. In the state. In six states. And someday, the nation, and the world.” ...the eyes began to shrink, his face coming back into view, but now spinning slowly like the hands on a clock..

“But, because you are so delightfully ruthless, there was a small problem. The next logical step, after marrying me, is killing me off. Quite understandable. I’d do it if I was in your place. But, nonetheless, also quite unacceptable. So, as soon as I confirmed who and what you are, I set out to fix our problem. I’ve been planning for this day for so long- designing and constructing the machine to which you are currently attached. Finding that diamond. Finding the drug to use in the champagne, and slowly building up a resistance to it. Buying the company that makes the champagne, so that the drug could be put in at the vineyard, thus avoiding setting off your no doubt hair-trigger suspicions. Buying and remodelling this restaurant. (We’re still in the restaurant, by the way, down in the basement.) It all had to be perfect, because I couldn’t allow you to suspect a thing. But it worked, and now we are both ready to begin. Nobody knows where you are, nobody will miss you for the needed time, and if they do, it won’t matter..” His head stopped spinning, began rotating across her field of vision, disappearing off to the left and reappearing on the right, faster and faster...

“This machine will, over the next several days.. slightly but quite permanently readjust your priorities. In fact, it has already begun, since you are seeing this image of me, picture and sound piping directly into your mind. Keep your eyes open or shut, as you choose, it won’t make any difference. And when we leave here, together, with my engagement ring on your finger, you’ll still be the same ruthless, scintillating vixen that I love so very much, but all of your many talents and energies will be directed towards pleasing me, and improving my station in life, not your own. But you shouldn’t feel too bad about this; after all, you’ll still be getting your lifelong wish. You’ll be fabulously wealth, be able to crush men and women under your dainty iron heel, influence the destiny of nations and even hop in the sack with that idiot slab of a chauffeur if you really want to. I hired him specifically because I knew you’d like him, and he’s been well-trained since then. Yes, I think you’ll enjoy yourself a great deal.” His head slowed, came to a stop at the center of a spinning whirlpool of toxic color, all of the pinwheels melted and run together..

“And the sex. Oooh yes; how could I forget the sex?” Every time he said ‘sex’ the whirlpool behind him sparkled and flared.” The sex. The sex between us will be wonderful, magnificent, rapturous beyond compare. Mountains will move, the skies will crack apart and the heavens will rain down. The angels will sing.”

“And so, my blushing bride-to-be. before we begin our new life together, any last words from the old you?” The picture of Phelps, the whirlpool, everything, winked out, and whatever was holding her mouth inert was removed. She took in a ragged breath.

“You fucking bastard! I’ll never do it. After I get out of this thing, I’ll rip off your balls and jam them down your throat!” She struggled again, flailing uselessly against the warm foam that held every inch of her naked body firmly in place.

Somewhere close by, Phelps laughed, a sound of utter delight. She felt lips press soundly against hers, and withdraw a half-second before she was able to snap at them. She snarled, and the whatever-it-was was neatly thrust back into place. And then, an eternal moment of absolute silence, and blackness...

There was a loud click, and strange multi-colored sensations began trickling into her brain, dribbling down her spine like warm salty water, slowly oozing out from there and following the fear into the core of her bones. Then the first probing tendrils of feeling reached into her cunt, and the world exploded around her. Pictures of Phelps, pictures of his cock, pictures of her father and the diamond and of mother and idiot brother, pictures of striking snakes and her childhood home and room and scorpions and the chauffeur and worm-covered corpses and of her own face flashed rapid-fire before her, each flash adding a coating to her brain and sliding deeper into her cunt, which now writhed in a velvet-lined grip of iron, something squeezing down both inside and out, simultaneously heated shaft and vice. She spun down into an endless tube of pain and pleasure, pictures on the walls, pictures in her mind, pictures swimming in the air...

For hours, minutes, days, eons, she fought, first cursing and swearing, then silently screaming, as her mind and body slowly shrank away and the pictures and the music and the words grew. And grew. And became ever more intertwined and complex and beautiful... And grew..

The bedroom was massive, ceiling-high windows overlooking a lush garden that seemed to go on forever under a tropical sky. Over the enormous four-poster bed hung a painting of Jeffrey’ grandfather, his eyes bits of gray diamond under massive white brows.

As she slowly, dreamily, rode up and down, up and down, on her Husband’s thick warm cock, Marcia Phelps once again looked back on her days strapped to the wondrous Machine with vague bemusement. Had it all really been necessary? Had she truly been capable of planning harm to her Lord and Master? It was impossible. Utterly impossible. He and His cock were the center of the universe, the sun and the moon, the stars and the sea. And with His loyal wifey’s help, one day soon everyone, everywhere, would realize this fact... Surfacing from her thoughts as a particularly strong ripple of pleasure passed through her, she looked down, past the enormous diamond that swung and sparkled at the end of its chain between her rock-hard nipples.

The naked slave girl crouched on the hard wooden floor below, feverishly sucking and licking at Jeffrey’s toes as they dangled off the end of the bed, her flaming red hair spread out in sweaty tangles. Without breaking her rhythm for an instant, Marcia frowned, and swatted sharply at the girl with her well-used riding crop.

“Slowly, Hanna. Your... ahhh...” a little gurgle of pleasure.. “..Master likes it done slowly.”

Hanna’s glazed green eyes rolled up, showing the delightfully familiar combination of fear and love and hate and awe and lust. “Yes, Mistress.” she meekly replied, her reply muffled by her mouthful of toe. She dropped into a slower rhythm. You’d think an up-and-coming assistant DA would be a faster learner, Marcia mused; she’d order Hanna to strap herself back into the Machine after they were done here, and leave her there until it was time to return to the city on Monday. Then it was time to plan the DA’s unfortunate accident, and Hanna’s rise to power... Marcia smiled evilly, and gave another happy little moan as she twisted around, looking over her rising and falling shoulder at her Husband, and Celeste and Felicity. These two slaves, at least, seemed to be preforming their functions correctly: Celeste locked with Jeffrey in an endless french kiss, Felicity running her nimble, well-trained tongue around His nipples and slowly across His chest. Jeffrey’s hands were also busy, one tracing slow circles across Celeste’s firm chocolate skin, the other stroking Felicity’s mass of soft brown hair.

Straightening around, Marcia tilted her head back, eyes closed, feeling the tips of her own hair brush softly against her buttocks. (It was almost as long as her Husband liked now..) Building towards yet another orgasm, she rose and sank, rose and sank, dipping slowly into and out of into her endless dreams of obedience and love and destruction and conquest.

Jeffrey had predicted she would be very happy, and her Husband’s predictions always came true..