The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Law & Orders — Moot Court

Book Four

Lauren was back in H,Y,P offices, and her mind was even (mostly) on her work. But one of the joys of the treatment she’d received over the years was that part of her mind could always stay focused on work while other parts dealt with other things. H,Y,P had many different treatments designed to offer their employees all the options for happiness.

And while she wasn’t thinking about work, Lauren was thinking about the surprising encounter she’d had last night, one she only remembered due to Professor Nolan’s specific instruction.

Sitting in her office, surrounded by files and their associated paperwork, it hadn’t occurred to Lauren to speculate on who might be dating who on Orton campus.

Her appellate ritual had started when she was very new to actual practice. A large number of copies were needed for any appellate case brief, depending on if one was the appellant, appellee, or just an amicus curiae. Each side had to make sure their filings had an original with the copies (for H,Y,P attorneys, the originals were always signed in blue ink to help the runners who actually filed the briefs with the court tell originals from copy) and that the cover of the brief was the right colour for the type of filing. Sometimes, such as now, she had to ensure any unpublished case law she had cited to was also included at the end of the brief, before the back cover.

At the time, she’d only been spared having to assemble these by virtue of having won the moot court in her year.

She’d assembled them anyway. Politely explained to her interns—who had lost the case that year—that they could do anything else for her that their job descriptions or the Bylaws required, but this would be one thing she did for herself.

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust them to do their jobs. She was, of course, able to place greater trust in their determination to achieve perfection in their jobs than any lawyer outside H,Y,P could. She’d been told, before she ever came to H,Y,P, that work you reviewed yourself would be more firmly lodged in your memory, and assembling these briefs was a chance to do that.

That had begun the ritual. By now it was a necessary part of her preparation and a superstition; it was, all the same, unshakably part of her routine while appellate cases approached their endgame.

Over time, though, the ritual had become more about doing it than about reviewing the data; it had become a busywork, a chance for her to clear her head.

Right now, as she prepared, she was considering the tears young Jessica had been dealing with when she arrived at Nolan’s home. It was nothing she’d expected.

Lauren hadn’t been dating David before they won acceptance to H,Y,P. She hadn’t been dating anyone; law school was hard enough without dividing your attention, and Lauren had been the type to decide that a few minutes of private time each day was a better way to get her to the qualification.

She couldn’t even remember what she’d planned for romance once she had her degree and a job. She’d definitely have had a plan. Before H,Y,P Lauren’s plans were comprehensive, extensive, and full of areas where she had to hide from herself quite how vague she was being.

Now she was trying to resolve the realisation they were disrupting existing relationships against Bylaw 3.

Bylaw 3: Employees of H,Y,P should be adjusted the minimum amount to allow them to enjoy the benefits of H,Y,P and no further.

She’d been enjoying Nolan’s company. Had allowed herself to fall into the hierarchy below him. Her time had been, therefore, his to decide. Now was her own time, and that meant she had a responsibility to think about what was being done.

Jessica seemed like a lovely girl—and certainly one who’d responded well enough to Professor Nolan’s techniques that she would easily fit into H,Y,P corporate culture—but Lauren wasn’t so sure about her boyfriend.

It would, she was confident, all work out well in the end. But part of what had made her the talent she was today was that she worried about problems when they came up.

She finished assembling one file and paused before starting on the next. Drumming dark lacquered nails on her desk, she stared thoughtfully into space for a while, turning over ideas, rejecting most immediately, examining some for longer before discarding one, then coming across one which could not be ruled out.

It was not ideal, but it was also not doomed to fail. With a potential solution found, she went back to her work. She didn’t like to leave something completely unsolved, even when she knew a better idea might be the way to go. There was no reason to implement it immediately—but she had a potential way out, and that was enough to calm her.

Once she’d finished compiling the files, she’d drop in on Jonathan and see what he might have to offer.

* * *

Meanwhile, in his own office, David was trying to work out if his current perspective on the moot court was mostly his own idea or mostly hypnotic suggestion. (The idea, after just a few years with H,Y,P, that something might be purely one or the other, was obviously ridiculous.)

Having not long earlier had an argument with Lauren over the potential gains for their teams that they’d escalated to Jonathan, he now found himself viewing his role of judge as less a chance to tip the scales in his favour and more a chance to see how skilled in court these four could really be.

He was viewing it as a fan of the game, not of either team, and this despite the fact the two teams were not evenly useful to him.

Engrossed in internal dialogue, David had actually forgotten the presence of his secretary, though this didn’t bother her.

She sat cross-legged on a chair nearby, dressed in a conservative black business suit which still had the appearance of a sexed-up look by virtue of being tailored just a little too tight at every point, white blouse open two buttons below the standard, skirt just short enough to reveal the tops of the stockings, hair severely scraped back into a bun, notepad in one hand, pen poised above it in the other, glassy-eyed and empty-headed, temporarily transformed by trigger into a dictation shorthand machine. She would wait as long as it took for David to add to his points. She would always wait for whatever David desired; her behaviour, just like her outfit, was to his exact specifications.

Typically, when David interrupted her duties as a secretary like this, it had more to do with the way she said “Of course, Mr Locke,” and his own impulses. He certainly hadn’t ruled out doing something like that again before they were done with his letters today. But for the time being, he sat in cross-examination of his imaginary self.

What’s your goal here?

What will you be satisfied with?

When did that change?

Were you with anyone when that changed?

Did they influence you?

Do you believe that that’s a good goal?

So what’s the alternative?

The final question was the hardest to answer. He was a little frustrated, but he fitted into H,Y,P well, he didn’t usually champ at the bit to push against his conditioning—sometimes, in fact, he revelled in it—and it was a little confusing to be in conflict with it, even mildly.

And there were only so many options in any case.

David sat at his desk, deep in thought, for another few minutes. Eventually, he shook his head and chuckled. “I need to talk to Lauren about this—ah, don’t minute that,” he instructed his secretary.

“Of course, Mr Locke.” Having sprung back to life, she ceased once again, freezing back into position.

David looked at her for a long moment. “When’s my next appointment, Janine?”

“You’re expected by Ms Peterson in one hour,” she said promptly.

“Very well,” he said. “Dictation adjourns for a half-hour recess.”

Janine’s eyes flickered rapidly as she cycled through her dictation role, her life as a secretary, the real Janine within, and on to her subservient, submissive altered ego. Then she smiled. “What do you need, Mr Locke?” she asked breathily. “I’ll do anything I can to fulfill your wishes, you know that.”

David grinned and gave in to his own impulses.

* * *

Jonathan was, once again, enjoying the relative calm of a lull in his actual work, while billable hours continued to accrue around him. He was not actually snoozing—that would have felt like a transgression of the Bylaws—but he had no urgent tasks, a beautiful view from his office window, and a selection of fresh pastries.

Many people in his position might have taken a moment to enjoy the contentment of such a situation. Jonathan, however, had followed the Bylaws all his adult life, and contentment was his baseline as a result.

When he heard a tap at the door—not loud, but clear—he didn’t respond for a few moments, his eyes following a twinkling light along the riverbank outside. Was that the play of sunlight, passing through the trees to be reflected? Was it children playing? Was it, perhaps, something that could not merely interest, but also fascinate?

After a moment he raised his voice to say “Come,” and began swivelling his chair back to face the door over the desk.

Lauren stepped inside. It was strange, Jonathan thought; he’d seen this woman, by now, in countless moods, some of them her own and some of them imposed upon her, either by a Bylaw or a Partner.

When she’d made her way through the door with David, arguing, she had seemed somehow six inches taller. When she was in full trance, enjoying her directions, she seemed taller even than that. When Lauren was simply Lauren, she had only half the presence that her passions or H,Y,P could bring out of her.

“As you didn’t have yourself buzzed in, I assume this isn’t business,” he said, gesturing her to a chair. “But I’ sure you still have an agenda in mind, yes?”

She took the seat, seeming to relax by his easy acceptance of her arrival. Fleetingly, Jonathan recalled scenes he’d witnessed in other firms, where Senior Partners ruled by the iron fist, not the velvet glove. It occurred to him that he might have developed quite a temper, spending his working life in such an office. But hierarchy here was exactly as it appeared in a staff diagram. No petty politics. Precious little scheming, either, and most of that was entertaining for all involved.

Lauren nodded. “I’m… contemplating pushing the letter of your judgement.”

Jonathan raised one eyebrow. “That’s a very specific way of putting it. Will I agree your actions are in the spirit of my judgement?”

“I think you’ll agree that they fit your usual behaviour, given the context,” Lauren said simply.

“So context has changed?”

“Yes.” She fidgeted slightly, obviously wanting to tell him. He understood why she didn’t simply volunteer the information; he might expect her conscious mind to bias what she said.

Jonathan opened his hand invitingly. “Mind adjourned,” he said, and Lauren settled more deeply into the chair, her lips parting, eyes glazing into a smile. Her hands folded above her crossed legs in the approved fashion.

“We are now beginning discovery,” Jonathan said. “I require the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Do you so swear?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, her tone excited and breathy.

* * *

Matthew felt like he finally understood what carried away really meant. The last day or two had been a whirlwind, with romantic, academic, and long-term plans all unfolding at once. Having a new study partner was turning out far more rewarding than he’d expected.

Still, everything was happening so fast he didn’t feel he could keep up, and there was no getting away from it; that was going to be a problem if he couldn’t find his feet.

He hadn’t heard from Jessica, either. Not that he could discuss much of his life with her as things stood; on the other hand, discussing their lives as they unfolded had been how both of them had kept sane throughout their time at Orton.

Madison was… intoxicating, and still felt as out of his league as possible. Somehow she wasn’t anymore.

So he had a lot to live up to.

Sitting in Orton’s library, he had a stack of case law to his left, one book open in front of him, and a notepad to his right. Unaware of Nick Warren watching him from a perch some seats away, he was looking both for precedents and for arguments that might be useful in… in…

There was a case that was stuck in Matthew’s mind. It had been since he had first met up with Madison. A hypothetical position to argue, to try to win.

He didn’t know where it had come from. When he thought about it for any length of time his thoughts instead turned to Madison, that smile of hers, and the way it made his spine tingle. He’d been working without a break for too long if he was getting distracted like this. He needed a coffee. He got up, leaving his work where it was, and headed for a side door, figuring to be in and out before anyone noticed.

After a few moments, Nick made his way to the desk, studied what Matthew had written with increasing surprise, pulled out his phone, took a picture of Matthew’s notes, then walked away. As he left the library by the front door he was already dialling a number.

“Hi, babe,” he said. “Guess what I just found out. I’ll give you a hint, it involves your ex.”

He listened, smiling bemusedly. “What do you mean, don’t call him that?”

* * *

“He’s not my ex until I talk to him,” she said irritatedly, sitting back in her chair. “Why are you even looking for him?”

There was silence for a few moments before Nick replied, “But we’re an item now, babe.”

Jessica sighed. “We’re study partners, Nick.”

“Yeah, well, get a load of this. You know we started talking about that hypothetical on the way out of Creepy Prof Dude’s office?”

Jessica was stung by this. Professor Nolan had always been a perfect gentleman. “Get to the point.”

“Well, your ex,” he said firmly, “happens to be researching the exact same hypothetical from the opposite end.”

Her immediate instinct was to say “No he isn’t,” because it was so ridiculous. But while Nick was arrogant and, she was beginning to suspect, allergic to scruples, he wasn’t the sort of person who lied. Any lawyer as experienced as Nick knew that if you were going to be dealing with someone long-term, lies were more of a hazard than a help.

So instead she sat up, furrowed her brow, and said “How exactly is that supposed to happen?”

“That’s what I’m asking, too,” he said. “Do we put our heads together or do I just confront him about it and see what happens?”

Jessica found she had to consider her reply for some time. Eventually she settled on “You’re not planning to become a trial lawyer, right?”

“Absolutely not, babes. There’s better money in real estate. Especially for the stress.”

She nodded. Grate on her as he did, every once in a while he came out with something that she could tolerate and work with. And, she reminded herself, Matthew would probably be about as happy about her being seen with Nick as she was about him being seen with Madison van Hoyt.

Which might mean there were two birds to be dealt with with one stone here. “I think we should talk about it,” she said. “How do you feel about buying me dinner?”

“Sure, babes. Anything you want.”

“And Nick?”


“Considering how many times you just called me babes, this dinner is going to cost you.”

Nick laughed, said “Sure,” and rang off. Jessica was abruptly reminded of something her father always used to say; to the very rich, a fine is just a price tag.

To Nick’s mind, she’d probably just set the price for calling her babes all the time. Which… wasn’t the best idea.

Professor Nolan probably had a good way to persuade him to stop. He could be extremely persuasive when he needed to shut up a class clown.

She got up and started looking through her wardrobe. As much as this dinner date had been a spur of the moment idea, she was damned if she was going to show up underdressed for somewhere fancy.

* * *

At the end of his study session, Matthew drifted back to his dorm. He felt like it had been a pretty good day, but after the euphoria of last night and the accomplishment of the day, it did occur to him at length that he should check in with Jessica.

Wait until she heard that he’d scored with Madison van Hoyt! How could she not be happy for him?

It crossed his mind briefly to wonder how exactly he might expect that to work, and then the thought was gone as if it had never been, stricken from the record.

The thought it was replaced with was that he hadn’t heard from Jessica all day. His hand went to his pocket—

Oh, no.

He didn’t have his phone with him.

He thought back over his time in the library. He hadn’t had any reason to use it there, of course. And he hadn’t used Android Pay for anything, or had to use any other app to…

Matthew sighed. It was going to be lying on Madison’s bedside table, wasn’t it?

Had to be, he told himself. And then he heard Jessica’s voice, something she’d said probably a hundred times.

“It’s great that you’re prepared for the worst possible outcome, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to happen.”

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t there.

On the other hand, he really wasn’t sure where else it might be.

And he wasn’t sure Madison could contact him without using the phone. So he should probably fix that.

He unloaded his bag, muttering to himself.

It seemed like he was a lot more forgetful than usual, this past couple of weeks. Must be the strain of having it all.

* * *

Jonathan’s blessing had helped, but then it usually did. He had, of course, levied his usual fee offer; one billable hour of work or two hours of service. And as usual, Lauren had taken the two hours of service. Her hours outside work felt freer.

She’d just had to delay that service one night. Before that could begin, she found herself on Orton campus again, this time not for pleasure but for business.

H,Y,P’s close relationship with Orton was beneficial here. Professor Nolan’s friend in security was more than willing to sign out the key she needed and she made her way over. Hopefully this would be a nice, peaceful encounter; but she was prepared for there to be some shouting first.

Her quarry wasn’t even in her room; she was kissing that young lad Hitchcock in front of her sorority house. Perfect. Lauren bypassed them both and made her way inside, then up to her room. She let herself in and mare herself comfortable, ready to wait.

After perhaps two minutes had gone by, Lauren realised that neither of the young lovers were going to be cutting their evening short any time soon. Which was fine; in fact, she could use it to her advantage. She opened her outsize purse, producing a small box, about two by three inches, which she plugged into the TV in the room. Then she set about finding the remote and turning it on, and the screen sprang to life with a slowly-turning spiral. It had to be slow enough for it to feel plausible you’d be drawn in, Lauren had found. Or fast enough to bewilder. Anywhere between those two golden ranges and it was just a spiral.

She respected Nolan’s flair for the dramatic, his love of the old ways. But Lauren found she didn’t have the patience.

Working with people who hadn’t spent quite some time learning to go under, and even starting to internalise a few bylaws, this would not have been helpful. In this case, of course, she was working with fertile soil.

Madison opened the door and came almost immediately to a halt, hand on the doorknob, eyes on the screen, eyes glazing over. A fond smile on her lips gradually decayed into a vacant, open mouth.

“Come on in,” Lauren said. “And shut the door behind you.”

Madison did so, moving, Lauren was somewhat sad to notice, not quite in the approved fashion. Still, there was time for her to learn.

She was wearing pants, not tights; there’d be no risk of wear. “Kneel down,” Lauren said. “Thighs together, palms resting just above the knee.”

Madison sank down as instructed, not moving as approved but at least ending in an approved posture.

“So,” Lauren said. “I have a few calls to make tonight, but you were top priority. We need to have a discussion…”

* * *