The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It looked to Garth as though his luck was holding. Not only had he managed to find out where LC’s hideout was, but he had managed to get to it without running in to any of her gang. In fact, despite the low-rent nature of the area he hadn’t seen anything more threatening than some incredibly sexy hookers.

Now he was sliding in a small back window of the building, fully aware of the irony of it was just such a stunt that had gotten him into this situation in the first place. Inside was dark and he discovered, to his momentary horror, further to the floor than he thought. Once again his luck held as he landed shoulders first onto a soft bed rather than a concrete floor. Even more fortunate was that there wasn’t anyone in the bed.

Garth righted himself and slid off the bed. Yes, definitely slid—the sheets were satin and he landed with a bit of a thump on the floor. He froze in place, crouching by the edge of the bed and unconsciously playing the back of his hand against the silky smooth bedding. All his senses alert to any sign that his arrival had been noticed, he took in his surroundings.

A bedroom, a very obviously girl’s bedroom judging by the dolls, the lace trim on the curtains and covers, the strong smell of perfume ... and another musk that was a little harder to recognise. Then as his eyes adjusted better to the gloom he saw stuff that he had never seen in his sister’s room—he recognised the chrome object as a vibrator and the black penis shaped thing as a dildo but the others were a complete mystery to him although he could guess the function. For a moment he wondered if he had somehow ended up in a brothel rather than LC’s headquarters.

Voices outside the room caused him to freeze again, and dispelled doubts about where he was when he clearly heard LC talking to someone else. They didn’t enter the room and he relaxed briefly before deciding there would be no better time to get moving. It was only as he was creeping out into the well lit hallway that he realised he was basing that assumption on too many bad movies where the hero sneaks out just after the guards have gone past. He also began to realise how hard it would be to find his cd player when he didn’t have a clue where to begin looking.

He had barely made a dozen metres before he heard voices in the hallway both in front and behind him. Panicking he opened the door nearest to him, jumped through and closed it again, pressing his ear against the door to hear if he had been spotted.

It was the uncanny stillness in the room that told him he wasn’t alone in the room. Slowly, sheepishly, he straightened up from his hunched over position by the door and turned with what he hoped was a winning smile. He was in another bedroom and it was indeed occupied—by a very pretty girl in a shockingly skimpy and tight red leather outfit that consisted of knee boots, g-string, bustier and choker. Garth swallowed hard when he saw what else was in the room, a wall mounted harness that looked an awful lot like a torture device from an old horror movie.

“Eep!” was the best he could manage in the way of explaining his presence. A knock on the door that he had his back pressed against caused a tightening in his bowels that threatened to ruin a perfectly good pair of jeans.

“Just a second,” the girl called out, obviously to the person who had knocked, then in a quieter voice to Garth said, “Quick, take off your shirt and stretch out on the rack.” Garth just stared dumbly at her, fear and doubt clearly etched on his face.

“Don’t worry,” the girl whispered, “I’m not really one of LC’s gang, I’m ...” Balero stopped, she had almost blown her cover, wasn’t that silly. “I’ll look after you.”

There was another rap on the door and seeing very few alternatives, Garth did as he was told, peeling off his shirt and positioning himself spread-eagled against the harness.

“No,” Balero hissed, “Face the wall.”

Garth complied, glad when he realised it would make him harder to recognise if LC or any of the others from the night he got mugged came in. In surprisingly short order he found himself shackled to the harness and stretched out in such a way that movement was all but impossible. The girl had obviously had a lot of practice doing this. He didn’t have time to worry about that as the door opened and he heard LC’s voice.

“Yo, F-Doll, didn’t mean to interrupt play time.”

“S’okay,” Balero replied in the casually cocky voice she had been working on, “Just a bit of harmless fun with a toy I found.” To emphasise her point Balero switched Garth across the shoulders with a riding crop. The mixture of pain and surprise making Garth yelp quite convincingly.

“Won’t get in yer way then,” LC laughed, “Just wanted to know if you wanted anything from the shops?”

Balero gave Garth another stroke and was rewarded with another yelp of pain. “Actually, yeah. I could do with another ball gag, last one got bitten through.” Garth tensed, expecting the next hit but Balero was better than that and paused just long enough that when it did come it caught him totally by surprise again and elicited another yelp and more laughter from LC.

“Can’t imagine why girl, not like you don’t treat your dinky little playthings ever so gently.”

Garth could swear that he could see the evil smile on the girl’s face as she dragged her razor sharp nails down his bare back. “Yeah, they break so easily nowadays.”

More laughter and Garth slumped in relief when he heard LC leave and the door close behind her. A sharp pain between his shoulder blades brought him to full attention again as the girl pressed her nails against his skin just hard enough to break the surface.

“Ouch!” he squealed. Then the pain subsided as he felt her wet tongue slide up his back along the welts she had made. The relief lasted only a moment before she stuck her claws in again and dragged them down his back, her hot and heavy breath making it sting all the more. He didn’t even notice that she had begun to moan in pleasure.

“Ow! Please, you can stop now.”

“Hmm, what?” a husky voice came from between his shoulder blades as the tip of her tongue played over the welts.

“They’re gone!”

Balero gave his back one last kiss and pulled back. “Oh, right,” she said dreamily. She was a police officer, she reminded herself, she needed to find out why this young man had been sneaking around. “So, what are you doing here?”

“Couldn’t you let me down now?”

“No, better not. Someone else might come in.”

“Then could you at least stop sticking your nails into me?” Garth pleaded.

“Wha...? Oh, right.” Balero stepped back as she realised what she was doing. “Now explain yourself.”

“LC stole my cd player and I have to get it back.”

Balero caught herself before she blurted out that LC was actually very nice and he should have probably just asked. LC was nice to her and to her gang, she reminded herself, she was still a bit of a hellion when dealing with the general public. “Give me a description and I’ll have a look.”

“Th-anks, OW!”

“Sorry.”

Mz Trimble settled in to her chair and made herself comfortable, at least as comfortable as was possible while clad from the neck down in a black latex cat suit. From the drawer of the chair side table she pulled out one of the photocopies of the book that she had made. As the book had gone missing she could only be grateful for her foresight in making the copies. But on to research; she had Carol strapped to a post in the bedroom with a vibrator buzzing away in her ass and feathers dangling from the ceiling tickling her nipples; and needed to know what the book suggested came next.

A plaintive moaning from the bedroom indicated that she might have to hurry. Mz Trimble smiled, or maybe not. Carol could only enjoy it more if she had to endure, and besides, it went against Mz Trimble’s nature to skim read. So making sure Carol was aware that no relief was going to be forthcoming in the near future, Mz Trimble began to read.

She liked the flow of the words, there was a good rhythm to them—almost like reading poetry. She found this particularly impressive as large segments were in an archaic form of latin and even with her fluency in that language it was much like reading Elizabethan English. Not for the first time she wondered how old the book was.

As always she began at the beginning and progressed through the book, the familiarity aiding in getting further each time until she was now most of the way through. It had levels of eroticism that she had never even considered and realised how staid even the more radical members of society had become.

A whimpering from Carol brought her focus back, the girl sounded like she was on the verge of collapse—so just one more chapter.

Lieutenant Mason idly pushed the rubber band that he had twisted up into a little ball across his desk with his forefinger. A thought occurred to him and he quickly cleared off his jotter pad, drew a line down the center, made a circle through that and then set up paper clips at either end to mark out the goals. To the muted roar of the crowd the left centre of the Right Hand Wanderers kicked off, passed to the thumb, back to the index finger. The lieutenant really was that bored.

Crime was way down, in fact it was almost non-existent. Reported crime, he reminded himself as Left Hand United intercepted the ball and brought it back past the half way line. Reported crime was down but he was sure in his bones that it was still happening out there. It was just that nobody was complaining, and if things were being stolen then nobody was coming in to get a stamp for their insurance claims.

There was also Gringer, owner of the Second Hand Emporium and the neighbourhood fence. He was gone. He had just packed up and left. Rumour had it that there just wasn’t enough stolen goods coming in to make it worth his while and Mason didn’t believe that he was the victim of an economic down turn. Something strange was happening to the crime in his area.

Last week he had set up a sting operation, plain clothes officers lurking around to nab the curb crawlers out looking for hookers. He had to call it off after they had caught two city councillors, three priests and the wife of one of those priests. By mutual consent everyone had gone home and pretended it had never happened. A flick from the left striker scored the first goal early in the half.

The lieutenant was placing the ball back in the centre when he noticed that it had gone unnaturally quiet in the squad room. He barely had a chance to compose himself before the door to his office swung open and two very scary people stepped in. One male, the other female, they were dressed in almost identical dark suits with razor sharp creases in their trousers and immaculately tailored jackets. Mason didn’t need to see the badges they flashed to know they were internal affairs.

“Lt Mason,” the man stated in a cold, harsh voice, “We are here to investigate allegations of inappropriate behaviour on the part of officer Patricia Kowaski. We will be using the interview room for this and will not be disturbed. Please do not leave your office as we may need to discuss the ramifications after we have interviewed said officer.” And with that they turned on their heels simultaneously and strode away.

Mason swallowed hard. Part of him wanted to jump up, rush to the defence of his officer. The smart part of him kept his ass rooted to his chair. The Wanderers kicked off again.

The score was 4-3 when his door opened again and the lieutenant looked up with resignation, this would be it, Kowaski was history and maybe him as well. He did a double take when he saw the figure in the door. It was the female but gone was the rigid posture, the haughty expression. Gone too were her blouse and trousers, turning her jacket into a very short dress with a plunging neckline. Hands clasped behind her back, head slightly bowed and swaying shyly from side to side she looked like a chastened teenager.

“Trisha says I have to come and suck your cock,” she lisped in a little girl voice, “She’s says I’m no good at eating pussy.”

Lt Mason thought about it for all of half a second before unbuckling his trousers.