The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Once they were all out of the meeting, they drifted back to the rest of the group. One of the dancers leered at her and hollered, “Felicitaciones! Super chica you be now!”

“How did you—” Sasha cut herself off as her mind worked. Oh, right. Choreographer. Making sure the dancers don’t break, physically or mentally. A quick second look made her realize that this was one of the girls Melinda had set her up with in Miami.

The woman grinned at her. “Don’t remember me standing up, do you? Want me to lie down so you can get a better look?” she asked. As Sasha turned cherry red, the woman went on, “No, I’m just messing with you. I’m Magdalena, and we’re all proud of you. You think I’d make choreographer without you teaching me to be confident? And look, I might just be in those meetings with you next time—I’m going for chief choreographer.”

“All that from a one-night stand? I must have been more out of it than I realized,” Sasha muttered as she gave Magdalena a hug.

“Hola, Magdalena, que tal? Hey, Sasha. Nah, you weren’t that good, but your little fantasy reminded her of her strengths, and that got her out of the ‘shake ass, flash titties, stay in line’ programming. That’s how you move up from the dancing ranks, but our girl Magdalena wouldn’t have gotten up without your little fun... that and you have the best ass she ever licked,” Melinda explained as she organized her notes.

Sasha hadn’t thought she could turn any redder, but somehow she managed. “I’ll take door number one on that,” she mumbled, feeling horrified.

“Suit yourself, but it’s not her ability to change costumes in a blink that earned her the nickname ‘chameleon’,” Melinda said.

Sasha frowned at her. “You make a joke that dirty, you’re trying to distract me. What are you trying to distract me from?”

The smile fell away from Melinda’s face like a piece of paper. “I have to pick a new webmaster,” she said, wringing her hands.

“I know Bree is the best programmer you have. If you’re worried about the whole ‘don’t wipe out my sister’ thing, I’m over it. She’s earned her keep and she’s a grown woman. If you want to ask about that taboo, ask Bree. She’s a big girl. Besides, you don’t know this because you came on at the last minute, but if she can, Christy cuts them free and sees if they return. Bree’s such a free spirit I doubt she’d stay once the music was out of her head.” Sasha paused, on the brink of a realization she wasn’t sure she wanted to reveal to Melinda, but she plowed ahead. “That scares me more. If she gets set free, goes back to school, meets some guy... we already know she likes giving up some of that brain of hers because then the rest of it gets focused... so she gives in, and the next thing I know she’s married on the outside and some mindless horny fetish slut on the inside. At least here I know she’s still Bree. Somewhere else... if she’s going to be mind controlled, at least I know who’s holding the leash.”

“That why you didn’t let her go when you saw her half out?” Melinda asked.

“No, that was because I was even more out of it! I’ll admit, I was freaked out for the first few months, and I think it might have affected our working relationship, but I watched you and Christy make my immature little sister become a focused worker with a real skill and interest in what she was doing. It’s been good for her. But it’s up to her now. That’s Christy’s way, and who am I to interfere?”

“Good, because she’s the only one I’d promote for it,” Melinda said with a relieved smile as they headed to Christy’s office.

The line moved quickly. Most left when they were cut loose. Sasha was surprised by this, but only one was really angry at what happened to him, and even then, he was muttering and grumbling about how he got walked over by a girl. Sasha kept half an eye on the door are the rest on Bree at the far end of the waiting area. She’s changed so much, Sasha realized. Bree was no longer the mindlessly starstruck fangirl or the teenage follower who would latch onto the nearest trend without a thought. She had a new air of confidence around her, a sly smile that came out at unexpected times, and a hint of the ambition that Sasha recognized in herself.

As Bree got up to take her turn in Christy’s office, she looked over at Sasha. Sasha threw her hands up and Bree smiled back—an old code signal from when they were kids that meant that Sasha was letting Bree handle this on her own, and that Bree appreciated that her sister was backing off. Sasha sat down and tried not to bite her nails to the quick, because she wasn’t sure what she wanted for her sister.

The clock ticked away, and she understood that Bree had decided to come aboard. Part of her dreaded it, part of her was proud of it, and part of her that she could barely admit to herself was turned on by what she knew Bree was experiencing in that office.

Melinda came up next to her and smiled. “Wanna hear her moan as she eats Christy out?” she asked with a lick of her lips.

“No! No! God, no! What kind of pervert do you think I am?” Sasha asked, exaggerating her shock so Melinda would never guess that there was a tiny whisper in the back of her head saying yes.

“All right, how ‘bout hearing Christy moan while Bree eats her out?” Melinda teased back. Melinda had that knack of knowing when the right moment was to strike and Sasha gave in to it. They traded dirtier and dirtier jokes across the room at each other, both with their legs closed tightly, until Bree emerged. She was walking like a wind-up doll, and the emptiness of her face suggested that all she could hear or see was Christy—but she wore the uniform of the core staff, the same pantsuit as Sasha and Melinda.

“It’ll wear off in a few days. Enjoy the nap. Sweet dreams—and congrats on the job,” Sasha said, knowing that Bree couldn’t consciously hear her, before she went back to watching the rest of the staff and figuring out who was going to stay and who was going to leave.

The 747 filled up slowly but steadily, both first class and business class, with new staffers and the core staff. The newcomers were still bedazzled by Christy’s power—Sasha recognized them by the thousand-yard stare that Bree had worn (and was still wearing) when she walked out of Christy’s office.

“You approved this, I hope. I told Melinda to ask you first, but you know she can be...” Christy trailed off, trying to be polite.

Sasha took her off the hook. “I told her to ask Bree—she’s old enough, after all. But remember, no secrets. If she asks out, don’t try to talk her out of it because you think she should be here for me to keep an eye on or anything like that.”

“Of course! Who am I to hold her back?”

“I thought the same thing. To be honest, I was more worried ‘bout you suddenly having to deal with two of me. I don’t know if you could handle it,” Sasha added with a smile, settling into her seat in first class next to Christy.

“Might need two of you, with the way things are going these days. It’s going to be a long net few years. New album for sure, but then another tour. Nothing can top what we did with this album, but the next one’s gonna come close.”

“That’s how bad it’s gotten?”

“You don’t know the half of it yet. And I might have a few surprises up my sleeve for y’all, too, depending,” Christy added as she buckled her seatbelt.

“Depending on what? You aren’t still feeling remorse for what you do, are you? You do realize you’re one of the good ones, right? You cut us loose and only finish us if we ask. You pay us well, and we work hard. If the underlings tire, you let them out or order us to go a little easier on them. I’ve been reading the same stuff you have, and holy shit. That actually made me wonder—is that why we’ve been going more with the purple and black?”

“Something like that. I’m not as much ‘bout branding as you are, but it’s a good sign. Mostly, my gear is enough to show your loyalty and let any poachers know that they’re messin’ with the wrong person, but colors make it a little clearer. I don’t know if they care, but you can never be too careful. Besides, it looks so good,” Christy said, adding the last with a sudden smile.

“I wasn’t doubting your sense of style. Besides, with all the gear you provide us, we never have to go shopping in unknown cities,” Sasha replied, her heart warmed by Christy’s smile. Though the siren had claimed her, and the angry queen of darkness was who she promoted on the stage, this was her favorite side of Christy, and the one that kept her heart at ease.

Christy’s mouth twisted. “Yeah, some of those places, you might end up the merchandise. Problem is, all sirens are bred of the devil, at least that’s what they say ‘bout us. Trite, I know, but man wrote those books and called them God for a reason. Of course, if your faith left you with the idea that anyone could commit the acts that we’ve both seen... you can call it ‘absolute power corrupts absolutely’ and give us all the benefit of the doubt if you want, but you can’t take what I’ve been given and be completely good. Don’t believe me? Check out the back seats of coach, behind the ones just hitchin’ a ride home to their lives. You’ve seen the housestaff. They’d walk out onto the freeway if I told them to go play in traffic. Yeah, anyone here would take a bullet for me, but I doubt I could tell you to jump out the window and have you just do it. Them, I know they would. I know the signs, and that’s what scares me, at least part of the way. Part that scares me the most? That’s honorable? That’s a sign of power. That’s how you show that you’re not to be fucked with. You kill people and you have them walkin’ ‘round for you.”

“You were raised right. Someone told you to value what you were given and use your power responsibly,” Sasha said, not knowing what else to say.

Something shadowed Christy’s face for a moment, but it passed before Sasha could work up the courage to ask about it. “I guess I was,” she said. “Of course, you haven’t met the God nuts who make me write my atheist stuff. Controllers are everywhere, in everything, and now it’s like someone left the gun closet open so little Johnny can play with daddy’s toys, and it don’t hardly matter who he shoots. And this isn’t the stuff I’ve seen, but what I’ve read and what I can suss out from what I’ve read. Carrie Myers... don’t even want to get into what happened to her. Nervous breakdown? More like gone mad ‘cause they tried to dispose of her. I don’t even know if there’s anything left in her head that the studio didn’t put there, and there wasn’t all that much left when we saw her... how long ago was that, even? But if people can change that much, I don’t know who I can trust anymore, and it scares me. And I haven’t even gotten past Hollywood. They say the future’s so bright you gotta wear shades—but that’s to keep the pretty lights from sparkling your eyes.”

“I understand. I’ve seen enough of it that it makes me sick, but you can’t just run off in fear and loathing. You have to make some kind of stand. I know the public can’t believe any of it—that’s the beauty of the system. I get that part. And I know how to use the sytem against itself. I did work the Sleaze Machine for you, remember? It’s pretty crazy, I know, but that’s why I’m on your side—well, okay, that and the great sex,” Sasha said, determined to bring out the charming young woman instead of the gloomy charmer.

“That’s why I keep you around—you make me laugh. Melinda keeps me focused, but you always break through and find the real me. I like that in you. Okay, that and you sold almost twenty million copies of my album,” Christy joked back.

The entire flight was a back-and-forth push-pull of emotions that kiept Sasha on her toes and worked her last nerve. Whatever was happening in Hollywood—more than what she could intuit from the papers and the industry rags—was aggravating enough to make Christy even more pensive and paranoid than usual. Her swings from her character to her ordinary self were more and more abrupt and somewhat frightening. Melinda mostly kept to herself, but Sasha caught the brunt of it as a buffer between Christy and the rest of the staff, and she would have felt better about that role if it gave her any better of an idea why Christy was so worked up or whatelse might be in store.

But as they landed in Atlanta, Christy smiled and rolled her shoulders, as if some kind of burden had been lifted and she could be herself. As all the buses were loaded, Sasha stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the newest bus—what the profits from her hard work had bought. Melinda had to shove her on board and sit her down so they could get ready to go. “Short drive home, then we’ll book it ‘cross the country back ot the mansion,” Christy announced, and if anyone wondered why they would be driving across the country instead of getting back on the plane, they didn’t argue with Christy.

Sasha put her head on Melinda’s shoulder and snoozed until the sound of a brass band woke her up. The parade in the iddle of the street showed that Christy Reed was home. Everyone backed off, even Hank, as Christy put on a sweater cheerier than any of them had ever seen her wear and a pair of light blue jeans, then skipped off towards the steeple slicing up from the center of town.

“Oh, God, another Christy. I thought I already knew both of them,” Sasha muttered, burying her face in her hands.

“So she owns this town? Makes sense if it’s where she first discovered what she could do with her voice,” Melinda said.

“She’s like this all the time here. Only place she feels free, I think. She doesn’t even want any of us around her. But that’s fine. She’s our refuge, and this is hers. It’s only fair. I guess even goddesses need a god to look up to,” Hank explained.

“Still weird, but I guess if it’s her hometown she’s allowed,” Sasha said as she got off the bus and looked around. Everything was done up in Christy’s black and purple (some of the paint still glistening suggested that they’d gone more in on the colors the same way Christy had recently), everyone in the street asked if Sasha worked for her and what Christy was really like, and no one would even let her pay for a pack of gum.

“It’s like dealing with a whole city of my staff!” Melinda finallly exploded.

“Except they’re too buttoned up to let the steam off,” Sasha said with a frown. “But why are you so surprised? She said she had the town falling under her spell as young as fourteen. You felt it. You know what she could do if she wanted.”

“Yeah... it’s still creepy. Like a Christy Reed theme park, except no cool roller coasters to distract you from how molded in her image everyone is,” Melinda said with a fake laugh that Sasha let herself respond to. Even as controlled as they were, they could still laugh at the effects of Christy’s handiwork. They were still going back and forth as they walked into the diner, where pictures of Christy from her various tours and set pieces lined the walls, but the smile fell away from Sasha’s face when she saw that some of the pictures were of her and other core staffers.

“Evenin’, ladies. Oh, you must be the publicist. Sasha, right? How’d she find a nice girl like you? The last one... oh, what I’d think of her if Christy hadn’t trusted her!” the woman at the counter said.

“Didn’t think my job was that popular,” Sasha said, startled.

“Oh, we know everything ‘bout our Christy. She’s such a nice girl. I take it you’ll have the fried green tomatoes? They’re Christy’s favorite, after all,” the woman said in an overly maternal tone.

“We’re eating a movie? A bad movie? I don’t think so. I’ll just stick with the burger,” Melinda said. Sasha looked between them, and after a moment, did the same. The woman alughed and went back into the kitchen with the order.

After dinner, they headed back to the bus, passing a record store that looked more like Christy’s office than anything else, between all the posters and photos in the window. Sasha paused and looked in; from pieces of some of the covers, she thought they had all of Christy’s albums, including a couple of the early demos. She smiled, but when she looked up at the awning, she felt the smile fade away again. The Red Songbook—it struck a chord within Sasha that she didn’t recognize, didn’t like, and wanted to get to the bottom of. “Don’t wait for me,” she told Melinda, and she went into the store.

“You’re Christy Reed’s hometown, and you named your record store the Red Songbook?” she asked the girl behind the counter bluntly. “Do you know what that means?”

“Like, duh,” the girl behind the counter replied. “What else would we call it? We know what she is and we love it. She makes a difference. You’re just upset ‘cause that’s like getting your little black book exposed.” She cracked her gum at Sasha and stared at her like she wasn’t there—which would have worried Sasha more if she hadn’t recognized the signals from Bree as a normal teenager before Christy came into their lives. This wasn’t mind control, nor was it animosity—it was the boredom of a high school student who didn’t really want to be where she was but had to be because she needed the cash or because her parents told her to get a job.

“How’d you know?” Sasha finally asked.

“You think you’re the first one of Christy’s staff to strut in here all uppity and wondering how we know ‘bout Christy? We’re her town and she’s our girl. No hard feelings, but she’s our icon. You done good with her, though. Twenty million copies, three number ones, six charted hits? Someone earned her overtime. Love it.”

“Thanks,” Sasha said, spooked and unsatisfied with the answers she had received. She left the store and joined Melinda near the bus. “This place is creepy. Might just be hittiting too close to home, but even the kid in the record store was...”

“You’re white as a ghost and look like you hung out in a horror movie. Lemme guess, you went to Ellen’s then passed by the Red Songbook, didn’t you?” Christy asked, coming up behind them and startling Sasha more than she needed to be startled at that moment. “Should have warned you. Told you I was popular beyond human comprehension even when I was beltin’ out church songs from the choir. Before the producers came for me, I was young. So I experimented more than I shoulda. That producer showed me that was a bad idea. But enjoy the free food and all of that... except... oh, Lord, tell me you didn’t actually eat the fried green tomatoes!” She broke off with a concerned look on her face, but relaxed when Sasha and Melinda both shook their heads. “Well, it is my favorite, but I know that’s not somethin’ you’re gonna be into unless you grew up ‘round here.” Her smile was like sunrise, and Sasha felt herself relaxing at it.

“So have fun with your parents?” Melinda asked, trying to change the subject.

And just like that, the sunrise was gone. “I don’t like to talk ‘bout that,” Christy said. “They’re well. Worried, like good parents. They’re the only ones who really understand my conflict. I got what I needed from them, so it’s time to face the world again.” She turned towards the bus, making it clear that the conversation was over.

The pieces fell together in Sasha’s mind: the spooky neighborhood, the intimate knowledge of Christy’s power, her insistence on getting forgiveness from them, the way she was able to resist sometimes if she saw Christy doing something that she knew was harmful. “They saved you from the producers, didn’t they?” she asked. Melinda shot her a look of terror best expressed verbally as oh, God, why did you do that I don’t want to die and she’s going to kill us both.

“What makes you say that?” Christy asked in a voice so studiously disinterested that Sasha knew her intuition had been right—and that she recognized a weakness Christy wouldn’t dare show. But Christy needed her to know, so Sasha met her gaze and waited. “You’re closest to me. No secrets, not when you need to know me so I don’t go off the rails. They helped save me. They saw what the studios was on to and got them away. That’s all I can tell you now. I’m a preacher’s daughter, after all. Hard for someone who preaches God’s word to admit that his own daughter has the power to do the devil’s work.”

This time when she turned back, the set of her shoulders and the fists clenched at her sides told Sasha that the conversation was over with no argument.