The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

On Monday, Mrs. Ward seemed disappointed and was moving on to the next person on the birthday list. Lorraine was homely, but smart as a whip—she’d appreciate the economics lecture, and whoever married her would appreciate her ability to balance the books. I looked at Luke with a heartfelt smile. Maybe he’d been on to something after all.

“Maybe Lorraine’s her type,” he teased back. Men don’t get to be right all that often, so he was going to make the most of it.

But that night after homework, I took another shot at The Wealth of Nations. I had to stop at the chapter about “the invisible hand”, because it made no sense. With no government interference, something still moves the economy, even in spite of government interference? I took a deep breath and dove in, because I wasn’t going to let some kind of crazy stop me. When I finished the chapter, I noticed the next chapter’s page written over by what looked like Mrs. Ward’s handwriting.

If you understood that chapter, call me now. 555-2567.

No area code, and a fake exchange. A date—1/20/84—that made no sense. A name—Katie, not Mrs. Ward. Way beyond weird. I freaked out and got ready to call Luke, but I was a big girl. I could handle Mrs. Ward’s weirdness by myself. I dialed the number as written.

To my surprise, there was an answer, but an answer that sounded fake. “The invisible hand controls everything. To control everything, one must be controlled. To be controlled, one must become part of the invisible hand. To control the invisible hand, the controlled must act and be told to act,” a barely audible voice said on the hold loop. I hoped it wasn’t some well-disguised 1-900 number, or my parents were going to kill me. Luke must have graffitti’d the name, or maybe one of the soccer girls did it. I started going through every Katie, Cathy, Kathleen, Catherine, Kitty, and Cat I had ever known just to see who I should ask Luke to beat up.

I didn’t realize that the loop was never-ending, or that I’d forgotten to hang up the phone. I went back to my book, and at some point I curled up and went to sleep, but I didn’t know when or why or how.

“Tina Ann Clark! Thank God for unlimited minutes! Who were you on the phone with all night? That’s not Luke’s number, is it? Did you wander off with someone, or call some boy in Boise? I don’t like you talking on the phone with college boys. They may just want you for fun, and I’m not ready for grandchildren yet!”

I blinked in bleary confusion at my mother. “Huh? No, it was just some prank number I found in my text book. Must’ve been Luke who wrote it in. He thinks Mrs. Ward does her students,” I explained, still sleepy despite having gotten a full night’s sleep—as far as I knew—and normally being a morning person.

“I went through that phase. Don’t worry, you’re cuter. He’ll grow out of it,” my father reassured me.

“DAD!” I protested, while my mother gave him more of a lecture.

History class was interesting. I didn’t know why, but my eyes went straight for Mrs. Ward’s legs. I never noticed how sheer her stockings were before—I’d forgotten she even wore them at all most of the time—but there they were. I didn’t know why that was a thing; it made more sense to either save yourself the trouble and skip the pantyhose, or put on something noticeable so someone would notice it. It didn’t turn me on, that was for sure. Maybe my observation skills were just growing because of Mrs. Ward’s attention to detail in class.

So she noticed that I was watching her, and she approached me after class. “You read up to The Invisible Hand?” she asked very sternly. The words came out like a blow to the head.

Dazed, I answered meekly, “Yes, Mrs. Ward.”

“Good, I’ll see if you understand over the next few weeks. We’ll be in touch,” she told me with a smile.

We would?

The next few weeks passed. I didn’t know what Mrs. Ward meant, but Luke got it more than anyone. “You notice she’s stopped obsessing over birthdays? You two aren’t... you know?” he asked.

“You think I’d still be snackin’ on your wiener if I got turned,” I sassed back, loud enough for Luke to turn bright red to the roots of his curly brown hair.

“Fair enough,” he muttered.

But I didn’t want to tell him what was really going on, just in case he got the wrong idea and started trying to protect my honor. Every night I found myself getting up and rereading that chapter. I never called the number again, just tried to figure out the puzzle. I was sleeping less and less, as well. Coffee was becoming my new best friend. And then there was Mrs. Ward and her fascinating stockings. I was paying so much attention in class that Luke had to hit me when the bell rang to let me know that it was time to go.

We were up to the Crash of ’87 when it all hit me. “It wasn’t just greed. Something kept those companies from getting too big. Something made the greedy people greedy, right?” I asked her after class.

“Do you know what that something is?” she countered.

My knees went weak and my head was heavy, but I answered her with a sudden rush of confidence. “The invisible hand,” I said.

“If you really know and you’re not just guessing to make me happy, we’ll continue this lecture at home tonight. 98 Oak Street. I’ll get you to bed... whichever bed it may be... by 10. Oh, don’t think I don’t know about you and the Moyer boy. He must be coming up with some interesting fantasies, waiting for you out there. Don’t worry. My husband will be there,” she said with a smile that seemed sinister, as if she knew something.

And I wanted to know what it was. As soon as I got out of the room, I said to Luke, “I’m taking you up on the offer. At least be outside in the car. Ward just invited me to her house for an extra lecture—maybe an hour? Can’t prove anything yet, but she made some comments about you that make me wonder. I just wanna be safe. She says she wants to talk about all this ‘invisible hand’ shit I’ve been reading about.”

“I thought so! I was worried. She was acting weird, and you really got into economics like you wanted to be her Mini-Me or something. Although, just for the record, when you muttered ‘invisible hand’ in your sleep, you weren’t asking for a panty tease, right?” Luke asked innocently.

“What? I did what? Oh, shit, this is stressing me out more than I thought,” I said with a blush.

“Yeah, well, all the economic BS on everything made me wonder too. Babe, I hate to say it, but I was wrong. Mrs. Ward is not a lesbian.”

“I’m sure you’re more disappointed than I am,” I teased.

“She’s a teabagger!”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

“I mean the Republican kind of teabagger! The ones who paint targets on Democrats’ houses! The really weird economic guys who read that weird big book of trains,” Luke explained.

“Oh, a Tea Partier.” I blinked as a thought occurred to me. “Oh my God. You read a newspaper. Have I been that bad?”

“Only if you really believe that stuff. I want the government out of our lives as much as they do, but they’re still scary.”

I hugged him and did the math. Hugging was about all we had time for before I had to go see Mrs. Ward. “C’mon, let’s go. She’s on Oak.”

“Okay. I’ll drop you off, then go for pizza. Send a blank text if she puts the moves on you. I’ll break windows if I hafta,” Luke said, somewhat relieved by his adventures in newspapering.

We drove over there and I rang the bell, waiting for Mrs. Ward to answer. She opened the door before I decided to try a second ring, and my jaw nearly dropped. I noticed her sheer pantyhose even more with her short white skirt and translucent blouse. “Hello, Tina,” she said.

“Uh. Date night? I can come back another day,” I said, about ready to send the text.

“To explain the invisible hand, everything irrelevant to the discussion must be rendered invisible. How long did you tell Luke you would be here?” She rapped out the words sharply, yet robotically, as if she didn’t care about getting the answer, only that she had to receive an answer.

“An hour. He won’t worry until an hour and a half. After that he’ll come get me. He’ll break windows if he has to,” I said, unable to resist answering her.

“Sufficient. Have you been calling the number?”

I nodded, but I didn’t think I’d called it again... until I reached for my phone and showed her the call history. All night, for hours at a time, until my battery died.

“Subconscious education. What does the invisible hand do?”

“The invisible hand controls everything, Mrs. Ward,” I responded automatically, my words slurred as the sleepiness I’d been feeling came back with a vengeance. I suddenly felt unsteady, only the force of my will... or Mrs. Ward’s will... keeping me upright.

“My name is Katie. That’s all you need to know for now. Surnames are meaningless,” she told me, and I felt myself tensing up.

“Sorry, Katie. Haven’t been sleeping well,” I apologized.

She motioned me into the house and into an inside den. A man in a sheer muscle shirt and white shorts was waiting for her. He had to be her husband. “How many times have you read the book?” he asked me sharply.

“Ten,” I replied. My thoughts were fading out, replaced by a need to obey. A memory stirred. “I know that the invisible hand controls everything, and to control everything you must be controlled.”

“Very good,” Katie told me, some warmth coming into her voice, but disappearing as fast as it had come. “We are the invisible hand. All the gifts we gave your school were from what we claimed as spoils of war. We guide everything and keep all economies in scale. We are the power. We are the guidance. We are under their power. We move only on their guidance.”

“Uhh... teabaggers,” I groaned, the only resistance I could muster. They were the invisible hand. The invisible hand controlled everything. Therefore they were controlling me. The beautiful logic of the conclusion left me spellbound.

“Boyfriend,” Katie explained to her husband.

“Is he near?”

“He expects her in an hour, and will not worry until an hour and a half,” Katie replied.

“That will do for now. No, we are not Tea Partiers, nor are we politicians. Politicians are below us. They cannot stop us. We guide everything. We are under control so that everything is controlled. You read through, so you understand what we are. You will become part of the invisible hand. You understand and enjoy economics? We will educate you further. We will indoctrinate you so that you understand them intimately. In return, you will control the economies of scale in whatever way you are told. There is no prosperity without poverty; there is no poverty without prosperity. We keep it that way.”

“One must be controlled in order to control,” I said. It was gibberish from another planet, but at the same time, it was gospel truth. I was too tired to figure out that paradox.

“Katie 1/20/84, she is acceptable. She has listened to the mantra enough to be unable to resist. Question, but not resist. Bring the tools,” the husband said.

“Date?” escaped my lips somehow. I tried to point at Katie, but my finger wavered.

“That is my complete name. That is all,” she said coldly, and I never asked again.

“Stare at me, Tina,” the husband commanded, removing his clothes. “We are the invisible hand. The clothes we wear on the outside are part of our disguise. We wear them to blend into the societies that we correct. Our true clothes, like our power, are invisible.

“Like the emperor,” I murmured, feeling like my brain was trying to wake up and fight back.

Again he stopped me cold. “We make the emperor’s new clothes. This is our work. This is our life. We control everything.”

And to control everything, one must be controlled. The reminder of the mantra at the end made me forget his nakedness. Nor did I care that Katie was naked as she walked into the room with a white laptop and headphones. “This will be your first lesson. Now, have you experienced any form of sexual pleasure?” she asked without emotion.

“Just kissing,” I replied, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I felt like I should have been uncomfortable answering questions about my sex life from my naked history teacher, but she had asked, so I had to answer.

“That will be your homework. Trust me that Luke will not mind,” Katie said, booting up the laptop and placing the headphones over my ears. They were the really good ones that blocked out all outside noise. It was just me and the voice.

“Welcome, recruit. You will be trained to be part of the invisible hand. You must be controlled to succeed. You will watch the screen. We will move the economy. You will do what you are told,” the voice in the headphones recited as a stock ticker came onto the screen and moved at blinding speed until it had counted down to a valueless world. My head bobbed as the mantra continued to drill its way into my brain. The noise stopped for a moment. Released, I fell back onto the couch. The laptop was repositioned.

Then the voice started again. “Empires rise; empires fall. Tyrants lose; losers win. Hell breaks loose; order rules the day. All ironies must go within their cycle. When people are too happy, greed leads to war. When people are too depressed, desperation leads to war. So we move everything. There is nothing we cannot stop, nothing we cannot put into motion. We do not care about people, but in the end, we enhance all of humanity. We care only about the scale, and we move the scale as needed to keep the world in balance. We are the feather that tips everything—light and drifting, floating in the air, then coming down like a hammer, heavier than any other force can bear. Light and heavy, heavy and light.”

My head felt light; my body felt heavy. The voice went on, “We make history as we see fit. We are the guidance that controls the world. You are our feather to place and our hammer to drop. Your reward will be more satisfying than anything mortal man can create. You will understand this. You will crave this. To achieve this, you will give yourself to our control. In turn, you can control everything.”

A timeline of the world flashed onto the screen, and my eyes locked onto it. My mind was asleep, but my eyes saw everything that they were told to see and my ears took in everything they were told to hear. Nothing else was relevant. At some point, my jeans and top were removed, but I didn’t notice when. Time wasn’t relevant, only results.

“Pleasure of the flesh affirms the control over you. You will submit and feel the power of the invisible hand, touching you and making you a part of us,” the voice went on. I felt fingers over my panties. I felt myself moistening as those fingers hooked my panties aside and began to slide along my clit. The pleasure was in perfect time to the main mantra, and I became hotter as my mind went more and more blank. Then it all stopped cold as I was pulled to a sitting position.

“Dress,” Katie ordered me.

“I will dress,” I replied, pulling my jeans on and feeling my damp panties tight against my crotch.

“If he notices, he won’t mind,” the husband noted.

“You will return to finish your lesson after your homework,” Katie added.

“Homework...” I muttered, and I remembered what I was supposed to do. My arousal shifted from being fingered by the invisible hand to fucking the brains out of my lovely Luke. I felt a condom in my pocket that I hadn’t put there, and I knew exactly what I was going to be doing next.

“Rock him to sleep, then return here,” the husband ordered.

“Yes,” was all I could say. Katie walked me to the door and let me out to call Luke.

“How was the lesson?” he asked.

“Nothing you were expecting in your dirty little mind. But that’s a good thing. It was just history and economics—I know, boring and boringer for you, right? But you were such a good boy waiting for me and being ready to kick ass in case Mrs. Ward tried anything. I should let you get something out of it.” I put a purr in my voice at the end, knowing that would get him there even faster.