The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

This is an older story of mine, one that I wrote for BlueLyric’s “Bayou Contest” back in 2010. Given my interest in the weather, and The Weather Channel (and some of those who work there), it’s a story I’d been thinking about writing for years before that. Thus, with contest rules stating we had to write about the Marawind Estates, a “resort” just outside of New Orleans... a place of “strangeness”, almost out of time and place, a place where “the whispering bayou winds are saying something perhaps only you can hear”... I decided to kill two birds with one stone and wrote this (hopefully) fun and hot story.

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Raindrops Keep Falling

Chapter 1

“This whole place is rather posh by my standards,” Rebecca whispered to Carolyn.

There was no real reason for Rebecca to whisper, but the way the two of them were walking down the second floor hallway of the Marawind Hotel had almost a religious feel to her. That was silly, of course, as they were just being escorted to their hotel room by the night manager, but still, she couldn’t shake the feeling.

“Mine, too,” Carolyn replied, her voice a bit louder, “But it’s difficult to tell much of anything by candlelight.”

“Yes, my apologies for that, again, ladies,” Abigail, the night manager, called back over her shoulder. “It was just so unfortunate that the only branch we lost from the hurricane had to land on the power lines that feed the hotel. The rest of the estate has lights, but the main building won’t... at least until morning.

“Ahh... here we are... the Presidential Room.” Abigail moved to her left, holding an ornate candalabra in front of her and sliding a key into the lock. “There aren’t, and will never be, any new-fangled electronic locks for this old hotel... it just wouldn’t seem proper,” she told the two guests with a sly smile.

Rebecca laughed and nodded. Still, standing there in the darkened hallway, holding her own candle, she couldn’t get past her impression that they were acolytes being led to some ritualistic, religious ceremony. She’d been to the Marawind Estate a couple of times in her life, though never the hotel proper, and it had always left her feeling a bit strange, as though she were somehow in a land held out of time, out of place.

She glanced over at Carolyn, who was holding a candle too, watching its light shimmer and glow on her face. The visiting weatherperson looked tired and a bit drawn, but still wore a soft smile.

I’ve got to stop looking at her, Rebecca thought as Abigail finished unlocking the door, opened it, and moved inside. It’s silly to have such strong feelings for a woman I just met the other day.

Carolyn, for her part, was feeling pretty good, despite her professional disappointment at becoming just a fringe player in the saga of Hurricane Fiona. At first, there’d been the fear of another nearly direct hit on New Orleans, a la Katrina in 2005, so her Atlanta-based office had sent her winging down to The Big Easy. It was a plum, if potentially dangerous, assignment, but that had suited her just fine.

But Fiona had proved a tough forecast. She’d weakened from a category 5 monster just off the Yucatan Peninsula, all the way down to a low category 3 hurricane. Then, as she’d approached the Louisiana coast, she’d suddenly veered east, apparently drawn to a low pressure trough in Georgia, and now it appeared that poor Pensacola would bear the brunt of her 115 mph winds.

Whatever the case, New Orleans and the Louisiana bayou was no longer the place to be for this storm.

So, she and Rebecca Baptiste, her New Orleans liaison and producer, had grabbed a video crew and shot down into the delta, hoping to detail and describe at least a portion of Fiona’s effects to a national audience. Certainly, they’d been on the “wrong” side of the storm... the left side as it moved east-northeast... so even those effects were muted, but she’d spent the whole day in the rain, and trying to stand and report in winds ranging anywhere from 30 to 80 mph.

So, in that at least, it hadn’t been a totally wasted trip, either.

“I do hope you’ll find this room to your satisfaction, ladies,” she heard Abigail tell them, as she and Rebecca followed her inside. “As you may know, President Teddy Roosevelt stayed in this very same room back at the end of the century... the 19th century, that is.”

“I’m sure it will be just fine,” Carolyn told her, moving off into the large room, shielding her candle with her hand as she walked. “It’s almost midnight, and we’re just looking to grab some sleep before heading back to the city in the morning.”

“Yes, it was also unfortunate that your van broke down today. Perhaps that was fate, though.”

Carolyn laughed. “I don’t know about fate, Abigail, but I do thank you for finding all of us a few rooms. We could have stayed on the first floor with our crew, though.”

“Nonsense, Ms. Adams. We have a few empty rooms because of Fiona cancellations, and for someone of your celebrity, Marawind policy has always been ‘nothing but the best’.”

“I’m not a celebrity,” Carolyn told her, moving to the dresser to light the candle she found there, pleased at the recognition in spite of herself.

“Again, nonsense, Carolyn... may I call you Carolyn? I’ve seen you on the TV countless times, covering this storm or that, and think you’re very good at what you do.”

“Yes, you may, and thank you,” Carolyn replied, staring at the back of the older woman as she put down her candelabra she’d been carrying and pulled one of those gun-like lighters from a pocket of her long sundress. She watched as Abigail sparked it and lit a candle on the nightstand just to the left of the room’s king-sized bed, then turned to face the two newspeople.

“I saw your reports from Houma today, and thought you were excellent, as always.”

Carolyn felt herself blushing, but wasn’t quite sure why. She had a big ego, she knew, and took compliments fairly easily. But this whole affair, including suddenly being forced to stay overnight here at Marawind, had put her off her game some, as there was just something about the place....

“There’s a full set of towels in the bathroom, and don’t be afraid to use the toilets, ladies, as they run off a gravity feed from the water tower on the roof. Now, can I be of assistance in any other way?”

“No,” Rebecca told her. “You’ve been more than kind to put us up on such short notice, and in such an elegant old room.”

“Yes, this is our finest room, to be sure. I hope it’s not going to be a problem sharing a bed, however. We have one other room on the first floor, with two twin beds; but I simply thought this room would be better for you. It’s a very big bed, mind you, and I’m....”

“I used to sleep with my sister, so I’m cool,” Carolyn said. “How about you, Rebecca?”

No... you’re not cool... you’re hot, Rebecca thought, almost hating herself for that. The dark-haired producer couldn’t quite repress the shiver that moved through her. She hadn’t remotely expected tonight’s sleeping arrangements, and it only increased the tension she’d been feeling for two days now.

“I’m good with it,” was all she said, though.

“See... it will be fine, Abigail... no problem.”

“Yes, dear... I didn’t think it would be,” the smiling night manager said. “If there’ll be nothing else...?”

“No, we’re fine,” Carolyn called out.

“Yes, fine,” Rebecca added.

“Very well, then. The phones are still functioning, so if you need anything, just call down to the front desk.” As Abigail said that, she headed for the door, still smiling at Rebecca. But as she passed her, Rebecca could hear her whisper, “Trust yourself. Listen to the wind... listen to your heart.”

The startled producer almost called out “What?” as Abigail reached and opened the door. She was sure she’d heard the other clearly, but simply didn’t understand what she was being told. Trust yourself? Listen to the wind?”

Something stilled her tongue, however, as somewhere, from deep inside her, she heard a whisper of... clarity. She did need to trust. Strange events and circumstances had come into play the past two days, and she simply had to trust there was a reason for them. To what ends she didn’t know, but she’d be lying to herself to deny where she wanted them to go.

So she trusted, for now at least, and simply said, “Thanks, Abigail. I’m sure everything will be wonderful.”

“I know it will, sweetie. Goodnight.”

The door closed, and Abigail was gone.

“What did she say to you?” Carolyn asked, walking over to the side of the bed.

“She... she just said she hoped we’d like the room.”

“Oh. Well, it should be fine, and certainly better than we could’ve expected on such short notice, despite not having any power or lights. It’s actually sorta nice like this, with just the candles and all. It’s very, um... atmospheric,” Carolyn finished with a smile.

“Spoken like a true weather maven. I almost said diva there, but I know you don’t like that.”

“No, I don’t. I live with it though, as I can’t control how others want to label me.”

“That’s true,” Rebecca told her. “It’s the same old stereotype, anyway. You’re young, very attractive, and enthusiastic, so automatically you get pigeonholed as a pretty, talking head. I don’t know why, but that seems to make people more comfortable, as they can marginalize you then, and not give you your due respect as a real meteorologist.”

Carolyn sighed... Rebecca was right, of course, and it did bug her whenever people looked past her knowledge and training to concentrate on her more physical assets. There was little she could do about it, though, and, for the most part, it was a waste of time and energy to try. She hoped such professional respect would come in time, but for now, on a medium geared as much for appearance as talent, she saw no reason to hide herself, either.

“I know, but I can deal, Rebecca. Water off a duck’s back.”

The older woman laughed. “And a good thing, too, as it rained a ton today. Still is, actually,” she said, moving toward the big window at the far end of the room. Even though there were no candles there, it was bright enough to see her way, as the sidewalk lights of the hotel were still working, at least. “I think it’s even less windy, though... barely more than 20 miles per hour.”

“Yeah... Fiona is moving away, probably still weakening, and we’re in the wrong quadrant to get much wind.” Carolyn sighed again, once more torn between the dichotomy of wanting to be close to the middle of a very severe storm... just for the excitement of it, and yes, for the jolt it would give her career and visibility... but also, as a decent human being, just wanting the hurricane to die out before it could damage anyone, or anything, else.

Rebecca was just about to ask if the auburn-haired meteorologist was okay, when a brief gust of wind rattled the window. Immediately after, unbidden, she heard, Yes... use the window, in her mind.

Startled, she wondered if she’d actually heard those words or whether she’d created them herself. Use the window?

Again it rattled, and again Rebecca heard, The window... the raindrops... so pretty... so mesmerizing....

She let out a small gasp, remembering Abigail’s last words, wondering if the fatigue of their long day was causing her to hallucinate. Listen to the wind... was it telling her what she thought it was?

Carolyn called out, “Are you okay over there?” having heard her producer’s gasp, unsure what was happening.

“Yes, I’m fine, sorry...,” Rebecca answered. She stared at the window, watching the raindrops land on the panes of glass and slowly drift their way downward, reflecting and refracting the lights outside.

It could be mesmerizing to watch them.

Oh god... what a crazy idea, she thought. This will never work, will it?

But they were both tired, certainly, and she knew she’d never, ever, be able to otherwise explain to her new friend what she’d been feeling and thinking since they’d met. So, just maybe, it wouldn’t hurt to try out the idea she’d just gotten.

“But... but you should check this out. It really is sort of pretty.”

“Pretty? What’s pretty?” Carolyn said, moving toward the window.

Besides you, you mean? “Just the night... just the way the rain looks all yellow and shiny on the windows from the lights outside.“

She saw and felt Carolyn move up next to her, their shoulders almost touching. They stood there in silence for a little while before the young meteorologist said, “You’re right, it is pretty.“

Lord, why not? If it doesn’t work, no harm done. She had no idea exactly what to say, but she had a good idea of how to say it, and most of the rest seemed pretty self-evident.

So, pitching her voice a bit lower and keeping it soft, and ignoring the pang of guilt she felt for even trying this, Rebecca plunged over the cliff of her own desire.

“Yes, it’s pretty, and so random, yet so constant. A raindrop hits the window near the top and then starts to sink its way downward, very slowly at first. Then, along the way, it collects another drop, then another, and gets a bit bigger and falls a little faster. It zigzags a little bit, but always moves downward, sliding down the glass, not even knowing the lights outside are making it so yellow and pretty, simply heading down to pick up some of its friends along the way.”

She paused a moment, taking a quick glance over at Carolyn, trying to gauge the others response. Carolyn was still just gazing out the window... or at it... as there was no way of telling for sure. She wasn’t moving or saying anything though, so Rebecca quickly continued....

“There’s one right there,” she said, pointing toward the top middle pane of the six-paned window. “It hits, then just sticks there for a moment before beginning its slow descent, shining like a little yellow diamond. And there... it’s starting to move now, oozing down the glass, slowly sliding lower, all shimmery and pretty, probably happy to rest on the window for awhile before dropping back down to the earth; just sort of drifting along, letting friction and gravity do their thing, but not really caring as it drops lower and lower on the window pane, collecting its friends, all of them taking their little escalator down to the ground, unable to stop it, but not wanting to stop it because down is such a nice place to go, to be.”

Crud, that sounded pretty dopey, and so obvious. She must think I’m a simpleton, Rebecca thought, risking another glance over at her current roommate. She still was staring straight ahead, and didn’t look like she wanted to say anything of her own....

Oh my god... could this be working?

She’d seen Carolyn Adams on television before meeting her at her New Orleans station the other day, so had recognized her instantly. Still, it was shock, and an unexpected pleasure, to finally meet her in person. It was also a pleasant jolt when she’d found out she’d been assigned as Carolyn’s producer while the attractive, national meteorologist went into the field to cover Hurricane Fiona’s effect on the Bayou State.

Rebecca liked women. And when she’d personally seen and felt just how attractive, vivacious, and personable Carolyn was from up close, she’d found herself liking her new charge... liking her a lot. Tall, tanned, and toned... and now filling out one of the TV station’s t-shirts like nobody’s business... Carolyn had looked so good that Rebecca’s feelings for her had rapidly turned sexual, and, to her chagrin, slightly predatory. During the past two days of driving around, setting up their location shoots, and taping their reports for broadcast, all those feelings had grown stronger within her, and more demanding.

All that, and the voices and atmosphere of Marawind, had led her to try this silly stunt, had driven her to try to hypnotize this sexy young woman.

Carolyn, for her part, found herself barely listening, mainly just enjoying Rebecca’s droning voice and the slow, downward dance of the raindrops on the window. It was pretty, and relaxing, and she’d had a long, blustery day and was pretty tired anyway. No... Rebecca was good people, and if her producer du jour just wanted to go on and on about raindrops, friction, and gravitational effects, she’d just stand here, listen as best she could, and watch for a little while longer....

Again the window rattled, startling Rebecca out of her reverie and building arousal, and causing her to actually listen for the airy voice this time. It didn’t disappoint....

Keep talking. Trust. Trust what you’re doing, and what you’re saying. Trust....

Still confused, Rebecca did, taking a small step backward and moving slightly behind Carolyn, bringing her lips even closer to the taller woman’s ear. She made her voice softer, almost whispering now, doing what she’d been told and trusting that all this was the right thing to do.

“Sometimes I think it would be so nice to be one of those raindrops, floating down from the sky all soft and carefree, not really having to do anything, or think about anything, as everything about their existence is just so natural. They form in the clouds and then they fall, gliding down through the air without a thought, without any concern for where they land. They don’t care because they know they’re just part of an endless cycle, and that one day they’ll simply be sinking down through the sky again, perhaps to land on some window pane, maybe to create their little golden diamonds, and to continue their gentle, irresistible slide to the ground.

“I know it would make me so happy to be able to drift and fall like that, with no reason to question it, no reason to worry about floating at all, as it just seems so much easier and right to let myself sink lower and lower, without thought, without fear, without hurry....”

Carolyn sighed, her shoulders drooping lower, and Rebecca struggled to fight off the excitement and expectations that created in her. This was working, she could tell... it was really working... and she had to control herself if she didn’t want to ruin it. The guilt she felt about even trying this reared its moralistic head again, but Rebecca managed to beat it down with the growing sense of power she was experiencing.

Sensing it was okay, she moved even closer to Carolyn, pressing her left breast into the other’s back and raising her right hand to place it on Carolyn’s arm. Touching her like this sent tingles of pleasure all through Rebecca’s body, and once more she fought to keep her voice low, now whispering directly into her roommate’s ear, going on and on about the raindrops, the rightness of drifting and falling without thought or care, about how very good and restful all of that would feel.

For five minutes, she whispered, thrilled that Carolyn didn’t move or speak, toward the end asking a few yes-or-no questions, trying to gauge Carolyn’s condition and her own level of control over the young meteorologist’s thoughts and mind.

“You feel so good now, so peaceful and happy, don’t you?”


“You want to continue to go deeper, to let your mind sink into the warmth, into my words, even more fully, don’t you, Carolyn?”


Carolyn’s responses... her words and the way she was saying them, so slow and dream-like... almost made Rebecca moan aloud. She’d done it! She was certain Carolyn was in some sort of hypnotic trance. Either that, or she was faking it and simply playing along.

Rebecca doubted that, though, but who knew...? If Carolyn was just playing along, perhaps she wanted all of this, too, somehow. Either way, Rebecca knew she’d find out the first time she touched her attractive friend in a more intimate fashion, or began to speak to her in more deeply erotic ways.

But how to start that? How to move in a more overtly sexual direction without breaking the trance? Rebecca didn’t know much about hypnosis, but she’d heard that you couldn’t make someone do something they seriously didn’t want to do. If Carolyn really was under, and she touched her sexually, and being touched by another woman was anathema to the Carolyn in some way, that would probably ruin it.

In fact, it might ruin everything, including their burgeoning personal friendship.

And Rebecca desperately didn’t want that. She wanted to continue to have a close relationship with her new friend, even if it never became a hot, physical one.

But she couldn’t fight off her need and arousal any longer, either. Helpless, and about to take her hand off Carolyn’s arm and put it, well... somewhere else, Rebecca heard the wind shaking the window one more time....

Take her to the mirror. Let her see what you’re doing, what she is doing....

Without thinking, Rebecca said, “Come with me, Carolyn... I have something to show you. But even though you’re not watching them anymore, keep thinking about the raindrops, and the way they keep drifting down and down, so soft and wet and happy.”

“Yes, Rebecca.”

She shivered... Carolyn’s response so encouraging, so very hot to her.

I’m trusting you, Wind (the “Mara” wind?), so please don’t let me screw this up now.