The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

That evening

Dorvak reclined on the bed with his trousers down about his ankles. Marie, naked, straddled him, her breasts pressed against his face. Suddenly, she backed away, and Constance, from behind, slung the yellow bandana around his neck. She simultaneously wrapped her bare legs around his body, locking her feet at the ankles at his chest. She then twisted and pulled back on the yellow, silk cloth.

The bedroom door opened, and Mrs. Doctor Lorna Dorvak strode in, a pleasant smile on her face. Dressed as a nurse complete with white cap and apron, she carried a folder. She was barefoot. As Dorvak could not speak, she spoke first.

“I’m afraid, Dear Heart, that there are more complaints regarding Mr. Grimnaldi. Many of the newer girls who are not fully with us accuse him of lascivious advances.”

Dorvak freed his hand and snapped his fingers. Constance released the tension on the garrote. Both naked girls sat at attention. Dorvak caught his breath, stood, and pulled up his pants.

“One moment, My Dear. That’s enough practice, ladies. Constance, I caught a flash of yellow of just as you deployed the garrote. Marie, you must work harder to........distract the target for your sister. But, overall, splendid work. Get dressed, and go to Lecture Hall C. I will be along presently to collect you.”

As the ladies dressed themselves in their togas, he gazed at his wife. Still attractive at forty-two years, she had a fair complexion and long brown hair coiled into a knot on the back of her neck. She was nearly as fetching today as she was that day fifteen years ago when she had presented herself with hysterical headaches. He had cured her of the pain.

He strode to his wife who stood patiently by the door. He gazed into her eyes, lifting her chin slightly with a finger.

“Tell me, Dear Wife, does the sight of these naked, voluptuous ladies in our bed cause any concern?”

“Concern? No.....should it, Dear Heart? I am your barefooted servant and I trust you with all my soul. If they are here at your bequest, then all is as it should be, Darling.”

They had fallen in love as he had treated her. At first, she consented to participating in his mesmeric experiments. She became his best subject, and after a while he could not resist expanding his mastery of her mind. Lorna, for over a decade now, had lived in twighlight of perpetual hypnotic enchantment, aiding and abetting his increasingly evil proclivities.

He gazed at her still handsome face, and felt a momentary pang of guilt.

“Lorna....I often feel I should be true to you.....but one cannot expect a candy shop proprietor to sample just one type of sweet, can one?”

“As you say, Husband.” She smiled and nodded as she spoke.

Dorvak took her into his chubby arms, “At least soon we’ll have our leave of the estimable Signor Grimnaldi.”

They began to kiss.

Sanderson read the telegram aloud:

“Dorvak successful alienist and neurologist. STOP. Expert at hypnotism, studied under Charcot. STOP. Limited practice to wealthy, attractive women. STOP. Scandal when accused of moral impropriety with patient. STOP. Somehow avoided prosecution and emigrated. STOP. Let me know if further assistance required. STOP.

Yours, JW”

Armand scratched his chin. “Hypnotism......intriguing.”

“Seems a plot of a Penny Dreadful novel, if you ask me. Say.....didn’t you and Miss Gadsden have a brush with a mesmerist in Europe?

Briar smiled. “Indeed we did. We were in Vienna for a case where aristocratic ladies were preyed upon by a charlatan psychic. He would mesmerize them into secreting their jewels outside their homes so he could later harvest them. (The Mysteries of Andrew Dupuis #11: The Mystifying Mystic). Armand does not often speak of the tale because it was my transcendent acting talent rather than his intuitive efforts that broke the case.”

Armand sighed. “Now, Briar....I have always credited you when you deserved such credit. And in my defense, I was busy preventing a war while you took down the Mystic.”

“I remember now......Miss Gasdsen...you disguised yourself as a rich dowager and pretended to succumb to the villain’s mesmerism......you used a ring to help you resist.” Sanderson interjected.

“It was so fun, it was as virtuoso performance as I ever gave on the stage ......”. She opened her eyes wide. “Yes, Torgo....I hear you and I shall comply.” She burst into giggles. Suddenly her face grew serious. “You know, Armand, if it worked in Vienna, it could work here, as well. I could visit the Institute under some clever disguise............”

Singh emphatically shook his head in disagreement.

Sanderson also protested. “No, Miss Gasdsen......it’s far too dangerous. Five men are dead, and it would have been twelve more but for you.....,”

Armand interrupted, his tone dismissive. “Besides, I have real doubt you could pull it off a second time. Torgo was a carnival hack grown ambitious. Dorvak is an neurological physician...trained by the greatest hypnotist in the world, Jean-Martin Charcot. He would surely see through your thespian efforts.......perhaps even sway you under his power. I....We.....cannot risk you in a moment of feminine weakness compromising the investigation..”

“FEMININE WEAKNESS? Must I remind you, sir, that I have held my on on all of our adventures. I’m twice the rifle shot as you, and even more formidable with a pistol. As oft as not, it has been I to your rescue in decisive moments.”

“Enough, Briar. I’ll think on it....I will, but for now we shall proceed with a more conservative, scientific approach, one not so dependent on the strength of your female will.” Dupuis had never sounded more condescending to Briar.

She angrily gathered her things. Sanderson tried to make the peace.

“Miss Gasdsen, none us have an ounce of disrespect for your talents, it’s just...”

“It’s just that you men don’t trust me to truly participate in this investigation due to my gender. Fine. if you so called progressive gentlemen will excuse me....I must have some embroidery or cooking to attend.”

She slammed the door on her way out.

Singh followed her, but not before giving Dupuis an odd, appraising look.

Dorvak leaned against the wall outside the guest room. He had heard the struggle, which was more protracted than he had predicted. Thus he was relieved when a naked Marie opened the door, her face calm and her breathing even.

“Your barefooted servants have obeyed, Master.”

He looked into the room. Constance stood by bed, holding the yellow garrote. Grimnaldi lay atop the covers, his purple tongue sticking out his blue tinged face. A nasty bruise began to appear along his throat.

The next morning found Sanderson amongst the docks along the East River. Other, uniformed, cops stood about. A nervous night watchman hovered behind the Detective. Grimnaldi’s corpse, now dressed, lay against the warehouse wall. The yellow bandana was wrapped around his thoat.

“So you’re sure you found him around five in the morning?”

“Yes sir, I was finishing my last walk around, and there he be,”

A burly sergeant stepped up. “That’s Frankie Grimnaldi, as I live and breath.....I thought he was in Sing Sing for the Sweeney Heist.”

“He escaped with outside help a year ago.” Sanderson answered. He pointed at the scarf twisted around the corpse’s neck. “Looks like he ran afoul of the Dark Lotus Tong.”

“Aye....The High Celestial is not known for forgiveness. Anyway, the meat wagon is here. You ready for em to collect Frankie here?”

“Tell them I need fifteen minutes.” Sanderson kneeled, opened his bag, and took out the ink bottle. “Let’s find out if you lost a music box, Mr. Grimnaldi.”

The elderly Chinese woman stuck her head through the silk curtain. She noted there was no cloud of smoke about the young white woman, who lay on the couch. The lady’s shoes and stockings were off and on the floor, next to her clutch.

“Missy not like? Missy want different pipe?

The girl seemed under the influence. Her eyes were dilated, and her lips were half open. She slowly turned towards the old woman.

“No.....I’m done now and must go.” Kathleen dully said as she deliberately swung her bare feet to the carpeted floor, handing the opium pipe to the woman.

Armand returned to his home with three books. They had literally kicked him out of the public library after closing, and he has stopped for a simple supper. It was therefore well past sundown.

He immediately saw Sanderson’s card tucked into the door. On the back was a message:

“Dupuis, major break in case. Come to Police HQ. Sanderson.”

Armand opened the door and put the books on the side table. Two minutes later, he was on the street hailing a cab. A ragamuffin newsboy stood on the corner.

“READ ALL ABOUT IT.......EYE OF MORGANA RECOVERED IN CHINATOWN RAIDS!”

Armand bought a paper, then got in the taxi carriage.

The Commissioner’s inimitable voice cut through the night air.

“When I joined your Board of Police Commissioners, I promised this great city the police department it deserved. An incorruptible, modern....and yes.....scientific police force. And I cannot think a better flag bearer than Detective Daniel Charles Sanderson.”

There was applause and the flashes of photography powder. Armand stood behind the crowd. The speaker though spotted him

“Detective Sanderson, modest chap he is, insists credit also goes to a private citizens. Armand.....join us!”

There was more applause as Dupuis climbed the steps in front of headquarters.

“I tried to tell you what was happening...I went to your home....” Sanderson told him Out of the corner of his mouth as the politician went on about police reform.

“I was out doing research. I assume you matched the late Mr. Grimnaldi to the prints on the music box.”

“Yes....and I need it back to put into evidence before the District Attorney notes it’s not there.”

“Tell me Daniel, have you ever known the Dark Lotus Tong to be as careless as leaving their calling card at a scene.”

“Perhaps they wished to send a message?”

“One that potentially connects them to the Eye? I think not.”

Their private conversation was interrupted when a reporter with red mutton chops called out: “A picture of the three of you!” Teddy wrapped his arms around their shoulders, his smile brighter than the camera flash.

“Bravo” roared Mutton Chops.