The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Since the defeat of the insidious villain known as The Confectioner, a period of calm had descended over Crescent City. Of course, nature abhors a vacuum and it was therefore only a matter of time before a new supervillain moved into the neighbourhood. Unfortunately for the good people of Crescent City, where before, one evil genius had held sway, now a nefarious triplet of wrongdoers sought to make the city their own.

Chandra Singh was a slender Asian woman, who worked tirelessly to bring the guilty to justice. As an investigative reporter, she used both her keen mind and her vitriolic prose in equal measure. Her most recent scoop had tarnished the reputation of many of Crescent City’s richest and most corrupt citizens. More than a few had ended up serving prison sentences, despite the efforts of ‘the best lawyers money could buy’.

It came as no surprise to the villain, whose ‘nom de guerre’ was The Anaesthetist, when he was contacted through several back channels and offered a truly obscene amount of money to make the pretty journalist ‘disappear’. He had no interest in which of the many possible culprits might have placed the contract. The amount of money on offer, and the fact that he could easily make half as much again by selling the troublesome reporter to some friends in the Far East, effectively bought his disinterest.

It wasn’t difficult to trace Ms. Singh, despite her best attempts to remain anonymous. The paper trail led the villain inexorably to her and, indeed, to the small private health club where she spent most of her free time. Although she was a cautious woman, who had survived the cutthroat world of investigative journalism, she was, of course, no match for the supervillain’s evil genius.

Two days after the job-offer, The Anaesthetist approached the select club. It was late at night and, had anyone been looking, they wouldn’t have given even a second glance to the worker in his faded overalls. The villain paused slightly, adjusting the controls on a small box. Then, satisfied that any local surveillance cameras were no longer going to trouble him, he moved with practiced ease to the service entrance. The non-descript door was hidden from the street, down a set of worn concrete steps.

In a matter of moments, the alarm system had been defeated and the lock picked. Effortlessly the villain slipped inside, an evil smile playing on his thin lips. Precisely one hour later, he re-emerged. His work completed, he quickly locked the door, reset the alarm and made his way back to his waiting van. No one would have an inkling that anything untoward had occurred. But a certain young reporter was about to get the rudest of surprises. The Anaesthetist laughed quietly to himself, imagining what would happen next, and then climbed back into his vehicle.

Chandra always started her day with the same routine; she rose early, and immediately headed to her club. She’d swim a few laps and then spend 15 minutes in the sauna. After that, she’d grab a juice and a coffee, leaving her set up nicely for whatever the day might hold.

Unfortunately, no amount of caffeine would be enough to prepare her for the events of this particular day.

She liked to arrive at the club early, that way she could luxuriate in private. The streets were almost empty when she reached the member’s entrance. She didn’t pay any attention to the white panel van, which was parked almost opposite.

But, inside the van, The Anaesthetist paid great attention to his quarry. A wall of monitors revealed the inside of the health club, and he traced her journey towards the changing room.

As soon as the young woman had used her keycard and was ‘safely’ inside, the villain entered a short code on his keypad, effectively sealing the building. No one would be able to gain access now; in the unlikely event that anyone chose such an early hour to use the facilities. Now they were free from outside interference, The Anaesthetist sat back and enjoyed the spectacle, as Chandra began to change into her swimsuit.

Oblivious to the fact that she was giving a private show, the young woman peeled off her clothing, revealing taut, olive flesh. Unselfconsciously, she bound her long, dark hair into a ponytail, which reached almost to her buttocks. Then she climbed into a one-piece swimsuit, the gold material contrasting against her skin. Once dressed, she placed her belongings into a locker, and clipped the key to her costume.

The Anaesthetist checked the recordings of his pretty target, he was sure that his buyer would be interested in the complete tape. Then, he entered another code into his computer. This caused the small canister that he had hidden inside Chandra’s locker to activate. In moments, the entire contents had been dissolved into nothing. No evidence would remain that she had ever been there.

He watched the monitors long enough to confirm that she was entering the pool, and then the villain stepped out of his van. He walked cautiously back to the service entrance. Then, after quickly checking that no one else was in sight, he slipped through the door and locked it behind him. Pulling out a small monitor, he noted that Chandra was about halfway through her swim. That left him plenty of time to get to where he needed to be.

Five minutes later, Chandra was heading towards the sauna. She had towelled herself off briefly after she left the pool, having once been admonished for leaving wet footprints throughout the select spa. The sauna had already been prepared, and Chandra mouthed a silent “thank you” to whoever had done so. Avoiding ten minutes of just sitting around was an unexpected blessing. Of course, had she known who her mysterious benefactor was, she might have thought twice before entering the room.

The Anaesthetist watched happily as Ms. Singh hung up her towel and stepped into the sauna. The door closed silently behind her, its lock sealing as the villain tapped an icon on his monitor. The trap was now primed and his victim had obligingly stepped inside. She could not know it of course, but from the moment that door closed, she was his.

Chandra carefully ladled two scoops of water onto the hot coals. Obligingly, steam billowed, momentarily obscuring her vision. With an audible sigh, she sat herself down on the wooden bench, closed her eyes and let the stress flow out of her. The heat was wonderful, not stifling but gentle. Already there was a thin sheen of perspiration coating her limbs. Not for the first time, she considered removing her swimsuit, but once again dismissed the idea. There were no locks on the door, and she didn’t want anyone barging in to find her naked.

Despite the steam, the picture on the villain’s monitor was crystal clear, courtesy of technology he didn’t quite understand. Smiling at her relaxed expression and contented sigh, The Anaesthetist almost lovingly tapped another icon. A second small canister burst silently, its contents lost amid the steam.

“Rest easy my dear,” whispered the villain as he watched avidly.

The thin vapour was subtle in its effects. It came on so slowly that Chandra wouldn’t really notice what was happening. She breathed it in and at the same time it entered through her pores. Once he was sure she had received a full dose, the villain tapped another icon.

“Let me help you out of those wet things,” he hissed.

The drowsy reporter was suddenly aware of a soft pop almost directly overhead. She tried to look up, but to her consternation discovered that her muscles seemed to have turned to jelly. She was so relaxed; it almost felt as though she were melting. Her thoughts seemed as hard to control as her body, everything was so weak and sluggish. Then abruptly, she felt a cool dampness falling onto her, like drizzle.

The final canister, hidden against a light fitting, had exploded, dropping a fine rain of chemicals onto Chandra. The instant it touched her swimsuit, a reaction took place. The material began to rot, melting away but leaving her skin untouched. The effect lasted for only seconds, but it was enough. The flimsy costume was gone, leaving her naked and utterly helpless.

Chandra didn’t know what was happening to her. It was like a nightmare, but somehow she couldn’t acknowledge the terror of her situation. It was as if her feelings had been blunted. Futilely she tried to move again, but her body betrayed her, drugged as it was into submission. Another sound drew her attention, and dimly she realised that someone had opened the door.

Emotions conflicted within her, damped by the drugs coursing through her veins. Her greatest fear was about to come true. But, the horror of being discovered nude, warred with the feeling of relief that someone was coming to rescue her from whatever was happening.

The Anaesthetist stood at the threshold, enjoying the spectacle. Chandra sat, slumped on the wooden bench. Muscles twitched as she tried to raise her head, but it was obvious that she was fighting a losing battle. Every moment she sat in the steam, more of the drug was being absorbed into her body. The Anaesthetist was immune, of course; he merely waited long enough for the material-rotting chemical to oxidise before entering the small room.

“Here my dear,” he said in an amused voice, “Let me help you slip into something more comfortable.”

Chandra blinked slowly. It was such an effort to open her eyes again, but she knew that she must fight to stay awake. She realised that whoever this intruder was, they didn’t seem the least bit concerned at her predicament. She felt a strong hand gently take hold of her chin, and lift her head. Her vision blurred, both from the drug and the steam. But she could see a tall man dressed in theatre greens, and wearing a surgical mask. Was she ill? Had this person come to help her?

She was startled out of her reverie by a sharp click. The strange man had expertly flicked something about her throat. It snapped shut, and had she been able to see, she would have noticed a thin wisp of smoke rise from the clasp as it locked irrevocably in place. Chandra now wore a thin plastic collar, clear but studded with numerous coloured lights.

“There,” said the Anaesthetist, “isn’t that much more comfortable?”

Chandra looked up at the villain, her head still held, as she tried to speak, to demand to know what was happening.

“Whuuuuu,” was all that the girl could manage, her mouth and tongue seemed as weak as the rest of her body.

“Oh, how silly of me,” said the villain with mock concern.

She could see the man was holding some sort of device in his hand. He touched a control, and immediately the series of green lights in her collar began to pulse in sequence. A soft groan escaped her lips as a new drug was injected. Suddenly Chandra felt really good, her worries seemed to evaporate and to all intents and purposes she stopped thinking.

“Ah yes,” said the Anaesthetist as he watched his captive’s eyes glaze over, “Isn’t that so much more comfortable, my beauty?”

A little later, a man dressed in a drab overall wheeled a trolley filled with towels back to the laundry truck. No one spared him a second glance, and even if they had, no one would have suspected that a famous reporter might be buried under the laundry. The villain had chosen to bind Chandra’s wrists and ankles with shackles made from a similar plastic to that of the collar she wore. He had also taken the liberty of gagging her with a small, golden rubber ball.

Although she was chemically restrained, both by the residual effects of her special sauna and the steady green pulse of her collar, The Anaesthetist liked to keep his victims bound and gagged. There was something about the aesthetic that pleased him greatly. He would justify it perhaps by noting that one should never be too careful, but the simple matter was that he liked his women both drugged and tied helplessly. Not many people have a job, which is also their hobby, and the villain truly loved his work.

Once he had deposited Chandra in the back of his van, now cunningly disguised as a laundry truck, the villain entered a final code into his computer. Moments later, all evidence of his tampering had been removed from the select club’s computer system. He drove slowly away, smiling happily and wondering idly if his two minions had enjoyed their appointed tasks nearly as much as he had enjoyed his own.