The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The next Thursday

Singh entered Armand’s apartment, and thrust the note at the Detective. Armand, not one for pleasantries anyway, took it and read.

”So what Singh? Miss Gasdsen has every right to go to the shore for the weekend. I am sure a balmy holiday will make her less vexatious in our dealings with her.”

Singh glared at him, then furiously scribbled on the note pad he always kept handy. Armand read the note.

”Yes, I admit, her not taking you or Hattie along is unusual.”

Singh scratched out another.

“Now, Singh....you don’t know that, and neither do I. And I must say, I resent the insinuation. I take great care to not expose her......or you, to unnecessary risk.”

Singh responded with a glare that would have withered any normal man.

”Singh, we will finish this conversation another time. I must be off, I have a certain appointment this evening.”

Hours later

Briar leaned against the light post, and looked at the Institute’s iron gate. She then checked her costume.

Briar loved working undercover as it took advantage of her formidable acting and stage craft skills. She had been a rising star when fate had brought her, Singh, and Armand together. (“The Mysteries of Armand Dupuis #1: Murder at Final Curtain”)

A long, dark brown wig covered her blonde locks. She had worked on it to appear unruly and unbrushed. Skillful makeup at her hotel made her face pale and gaunt, though still attractive. She had applied dirt smudges to her cheeks, arms and legs. The three block journey to the Institute had left her bare feet properly soiled. The idea of appearing unshod had come to her at the last moment. Part of her felt it was too “on the nose”. The other felt it perfectly complemented the character she had created, a formerly bourgeois house wife brought low. In the end, she found it enhanced the excitement of her enterprise. Each bare step also reminded her that she must tread carefully in this mission.

Briar also had taken to great lengths on her wardrobe. The white blouse and dark skirt were very middle class except for the strategic rips and additional smears of dirt.

Most critical was the ring on her right hand. A handsome piece of costume jewelry, it had been her charm in the case of the mesmerizing mystic. The faux gem had a rough surface, and when the conman had tried to put her under his spell, she cleverly reversed it and pressed it into her palm. The pain had enabled her to keep her wits so she could pretend to be under the villain’s control.

Armed with this talisman, she completed her disguise pouring whiskey on herself from a small bottle. She thought about it, then took a healthy swig.

Briar staggered towards the gate, singing a tearful and boozy version of “Ben Bolt”.

Mrs. Lorna Dorvak (formerly Lorna Cresinton-Duncan) made her way through the Institute’s Center Hall a happy woman. Compared with her vapid former life as a young lady of means in London, she strode with the confidence of a woman making a difference in the world. Everyday, she helped young women make their way through a hostile, male ruled world with dignity and purpose. All thanks to her wise husband. His powers of hypnotism had liberated her from the crippling pain of her headaches, then helped her find contentment. Then he taught her that it would be selfish to only bestow such gifts to her. She had been proud to arrange for her good friend Lady Marswick to seek his services. Soon, she and several other women also saw how good and wise he was.

Then came the bad time, with Anton’s unjust arrest. Thankfully, the Count had come to their rescue. He arranged Anton’s release. He taught them his secret knowledge of mesmerism, and gave them the money necessary to immigrate to to the New World and help the women here.

Finally, she came to Anton’s office. She knocked and was told to enter. Dorvak sat at his desk reading a book and making notes. It was one of the Dupuis Mysteries.

”Dear Heart........we have a late admission. I wouldn’t bother you, but I think she shows potential to be with us.”

Dorvak didn’t look up from his book.

Lorna continued:

”Mrs. Clarissa Trenton, of Albany. Age 29. Rather sad story. Husband is a lawyer. A philanderer and, according to her, a brute that drove her to taking a lover. Her Lothario took her away from hearth and kiln to Manhattan. Here he poured alcoholic libations into her until she was insensible. Eventually, the scoundrel tired of her and abandoned her for the Continent, telling her to go home and beg Mr. Trenton’s forgiveness. She’s too scared to go home, and is on the verge of selling her feminine charms. Luckily, someone told her about us before she took that horrid step.

Dorvak gave a noncommittal grunt. She went on:

”Her hard life has not yet degraded her looks. She’s quite comely now that we have bathed her and taken away that horrid wig. Beautiful fair hair she has......”

Dorvak sharply raised his head. “Wig, you say....covering fair hair?

”Yes, Dear Heart. She wears it out of fear someone from Albany shall see her. She’s.......”

She stopped speaking when Dorvak stood and spoke . “I’ll appraise this poor lost dove for myself.”

Lorna smiled sweetly. “Yes, Husband.”

Briar sat on soft divan in a comfortable sitting room. The walls were covered with pleasing landscapes and portraits. Her tattered costume was gone, replaced with a toga much like those worn by the female dancers and musicians at the park. Her bare feet sank into an expensive, lush carpet. She had been left alone in the room after her bathing.

She had had a bad moment when Mrs. Dorvak realized she was wearing a wig. Luckily, the nurse seemed to uncritically accept her reason for wearing it.

Lorna Dorvak was nothing but accepting. If she was acting, she was better at it than Briar. She seemed utterly concerned about Briar’s well being, and sincerely horrified about her story.

Despite her kind impression of the nurse, she could not shake the feeling she was being somehow spied upon. She therefore began her drunk act, again singing “Ben Bolt” slightly off key. To reassure herself, she pressed the ring against her palm, reminding herself she had come prepared for any attempt on her psyche.

Dorvak stepped back from the back of the portrait, but did not replace its eyes. He was smiling broadly. Through the wall, drunken singing could be faintly heard.

Lorna’s voice was a near whisper: “I assume you’ll want to wait til morning, so she’ll be sober before we begin her treatment, Darling.”

”Trust me, Pet, she’s more than sober enough to start treatment. But we must get the ring from her....her anti mesmerism talisman as she refers to it in her novel...preferably purloin it while she is unaware. Put Marlee on it, she has nimble fingers.”

Lorna bobbed a slight curtsy and left the room. Dorvak returned to his office, and went to his telephone. After his call was relayed several times, he simply said: “She’s here,” and ended the call..

Briar was still singing as Lorna guided her deeper into the clinic. She kept up her act.

“Oh.....Don’t you remember, Sweet Alice, Ben Bolt, Sweet Alice who’s hair was soooooo brown”, she paused her singing, then said “Sorry Nursey...I stepped on your foot again. Say.....I sold my shoes to buy some drink....but why are you and all the gals barefoot?”

Lorna patiently answered, as she had a thousand times before: “We do it to be free, Mrs. Trenton. Men inflict horrible footwear fashion that deforms us....it’s as bad as Chinese foot binding. The women of the Institute are like the Amazons of Ancient times, barefooted and powerful.”

Just as she was saying this, a young woman came out of door and collided with Briar, who ended up on the floor. Lorna took her left hand, and the young woman grabbed Briar’s right. They both helped Briar to her feet.

”I...I’m so sorry Nurse Dorvak....Miss....I wasn’t looking...we don’t usually see patients this late.....”

”It’s all right, Marlee, just take greater care in the future.”

”Yes, ma’am.” The slight woman scampered off.

The room was white tiled. There were two comfortable chairs and a cart on wheels. Before one of the chairs sat a foot bath, with pipes and hoses attached to the sides.

Dorvak nervously went through his preparations. He had hypnotized hundreds of women by this point, but none were as important as this one. The damnable Dark Count would not be forgiving should he fail. He had made that crystal clear.

The woman had an open, bright mind, with great imagination. That had aided him immensely in their first meeting in the Park. He had even managed to give her suggestions to aid future hypnotic attempts. But that had been a light trance, designed only to strengthen thoughts and intentions already in her strong willed mind. What he was about to do was far more difficult, transform her into a puppet for the Count’s dark designs.

Dorvak had always been a talented hypnotist. The Great Charcot himself had called him his best student. But he knew that the Dark Count’s lessons had elevated his hypnosis to actual mind control. It was the Villain who had taught him research each subject, to find the levers in her deepest memories to turn her almost willingly into a slave.

Briar Gasdsen’s copious writings provided a plethora of such research. Whether it was foolish pride or sincere honesty, she was unfailingly candid about herself, her friendship with Dupuis, and their adventures. She also gave tremendous autobiographical detail. Between that and a dossier the Dark Count had provided, Dorvak grew to feel as if he personally knew the remarkable woman. Beyond pleasing the Count, he grew to yearn to have her under his sway.

She would be his greatest triumph.

These thoughts were interrupted when the door opened, Lorna brought the singing Briar into the treatment chamber. Briar stared at him, frowned, then quietly said “Have we met, sir?” Her voice sounded sober.

”I think not, Mrs. Trenton,” he lied. She did have a remarkable mind.....resisting his command at the Park to utterly forget him. “I assuredly would remember meeting such a lovely lady.”

Briar recovered and again sounded intoxicated. “Well...lets get this treatment over with....so I can get some sleep.”

Dorvak smiled. “I am sure you will find my treatment quite relaxing.

Armand’s cab slowed to a stop. This time, Wei Fang just stuck his head into the carriage.

“My Master wishes you to know Miss Gasdsen is with them now.”

Kneeling Lorna turned on a valve set in tile next to the foot bath. Soon the bath was filled with warm, clear water. Dorvak handed her a vial which she opened then liberally sprinkled the powder into the water. She then gently picked up Briar’s feet and sat them into the now cloudy water. Then pneumatic air streamed into the foot bath from the hoses, creating a delicious massage on her feet. Also, a light fragrance rose from the water.

”Ooohhhhhhh....that feels divine,” Briar murmured. She wasn’t accustomed to being unshod, particularly out doors on the street, and the bath was so soothing. As she inhaled more of the sweet fragrance, the lighter she felt.

“But, what sort of treatment is this any way? The Nurse said you’re going to get my thinking right...help me with the bottle. What’s my feet have to do with that?”

Dorvak smiled. “I certainly understand your confusion. The foot bath is not the treatment, only a means to help put you in a properly receptive state of mind. Now, just relax...let yourself drift.”

Briar worked hard to hide her excitement. This must be it, he finally was going to try and hypnotize her. Dorvak began a patter about the importance of relaxation. Despite herself, she found the rhythm of his words working and her breathing slowing.

She caught herself, forcing her cloudy mind to remember why she was there. This man was a villain who used his skills to corrupt the innocent. Briar needed to be strong, for them. She started preparing just as if she was about to make her stage entrance. She began to imagine what a hypnotized Briar would look and sound like.

Dorvak wound the music box and flipped the switch. The twinkling tune hit her in a powerful wave, and she audibly gasped.

”That’s.....that’s ‘Fur Elise’........by Beethoven...not for harp....for piano....” As Briar murmured the words, she realized somehow they were not her own thoughts. She felt a heaviness in her hands and feet. The music was so light and free....she felt as if she was drifting....drifting..... That’s when she realized she was actually being hypnotized, She took a deep breath and went to twist the ring so the fake gem could give her the clarity of pain and......

The ring was not on her finger. For the first time, she felt panic.....she knew she had to leave......

Dorvak decisively took her right hand and tugged on it, while placing his other hand on the back of her head and pushing it towards him.

”SLEEP” he commanded.

Briar’s eyes slammed shut and her head sank to her chest. Why she was at the Institute suddenly did not matter at all. All that mattered was the music, the sensation on her feet, and the wonderful voice speaking to her.

”Drifting down, Dear....Drifting so deep now......deeper and ever deeper.”

Dorvak carefullyy opened her left eyelid and saw the eyeball was nearly invisible as it was rolled upward. He had to admit, the Count had been right. She had built the idea of the ring into something so important that the shock of finding it missing utterly opened her mind to him. She was his now.

”Now, Briar Gasdsen......let us begin.”