The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

61 Days in River City

CHAPTER 2

It was late and Sonia was showing Vicky the Broad Street operation nearly a thousand miles away from River City. They were dressed casually and would not be mistaken for prostitutes, except for the location. Even so, they got questioned from passing cars regularly, which they declined politely. Each whore stared at them as they walked past. There were a lot of them.

“I don’t recognise any of them,” said Sonia.

“How long has it been?”

“A few years now. There’s a lot of turnover.”

“And a lot of options,” observed Vicky. “How long before she comes?”

“Soon probably. Especially now we’ve turned and are returning down the other side of the road. It’s obvious we’re here for a purpose. But it depends what else she has on her plate right now.”

“What’ll happen if she can’t get?”

“Some of her soldiers will come.”

“And?”

“Depends. They’ll tell us to leave, politely. Politely for them. If we don’t they’ll try and take us to her.”

It was soldiers, three of them. They thought they appeared suddenly out of nowhere,

“Waddaya doin’ here?”

“What’s it to you?” Sonia was doing the talking here.

“Lessaya lip, bitch. Waddaya doing here?” Two of them had clamped their large meaty hands around their arms. They squeezed tight to intimidate but not to damage. There would be bruises tomorrow.

Sonia looked him insolently in the eyes.

“We’re gonna talk with Mistress Jenna.”

He stared at her, then, with with a jerk of his head, they were hustled into the alley, out of sight of the street. He left them there with their new companions.

He was back a few minuets later and said nothing. Soon, a limo appeared at the alley entrance. They were hustled into it and driven somewhere close. Blackened windows ensured they couldn’t see out. The soldiers thought these two bitches wouldn’t know where they were, but they both knew exactly where they were, just from the time, speed and the turns the limo took. These two bitches had both memorised the local maps. Google streetview was also a great help.

They were hustled into an old run down building that looked abandoned. Inside, deep inside, it was clean but basic. There were a few girls there looking bored. Sonia and Vicky were hurried through to a back room. Mistress Jenna was there at the far end, sitting on her throne-like chair.

After a while she looked up from her phone.

“Sonia,” she said aggressively. “Whadya doing here? It better be good, you don’t have no backup no more.”

“Things aren’t going so well for you, are they? Thought we could help each other.”

“Whaddaya know? And who’s this?”

“This is Vicky. I’d advise you not to try her out. She bites.”

“Too late. She does bite, but not as hard as me.”

“There’s no need to go that far. Let’s talk. I’m betting business has been bad recently. How bad?”

“Three Fingers are after you. Why shouldn’t I just give you to them?”

“Because you can’t. We’re here to see if we can work together. Three Fingers are suffering right now. New management and retrenchment is what’s happening.”

“Why?”

Sonia flicked her head towards Vicky.

“Her friends have just kicked them in the balls. They’re not finished but they’re badly hurt and floundering. Your operation isn’t their core business and you know what happens when there’s retrenchment. Are the pimps behaving?”

She didn’t show anything most people would see, but Sonia saw. Mistress Jenna knew that.

“They’re pushing again. Testing the waters. It’s a constant drip drip against me. I’m recruiting soldiers now. There’s gonna be a bloodbath soon.”

“You’ll win if there’s nothing else. But Three Fingers may decide to sell you off.”

“Who’ll buy my operation?”

“I dunno, but there’ll be some who want an in here. Another pimp maybe? Remember Alice? If Three Fingers are desperate, and they are, you’ll be sold off cheap.”

She stared at Sonia and then at Vicky. Eventually, with a flick of her head as an invitation, she walked to a table the other side of the room and sat down. Sonia and Vicky sat at the other side. Mistress Jenna called for bourbon.

* * *

“Hi, Vi,” said a cheery voice as Violet entered the office for another day’s work. Violet smiled and nodded a greeting to Susie. She was good at that now. She could fake her life easily now. It took her years to master this necessity, but she eventually got it down. Now everyone thought she was happy with her life as a forty year old virginal spinster with no interest or knowledge of sex in whatever form.

She went and made her first coffee of the day and took it to her desk along with the coffees for the others around her. This was normal. She did it because she wanted to, not because she thought she had to, but because that’s what friends did. After all, if friends did that then they would, at least sometimes, get her a coffee when she entered. She was normally the first one there, but sometimes she wasn’t. But when she wasn’t, she was still the one to get the coffees.

Her workload was full as usual, but not to excess. Not like some of the others, who seemed to be able to rise to an occasion and deliver on urgent projects. She was competent and valued but she didn’t think so because was always afraid.

What would she do if she lost this job? That thought terrified her and she thought it a lot. How could she get another job? She knew she couldn’t. After all, getting this one was a fluke, so she did everything she thought of to make herself useful so she wouldn’t be sacked or let go during the next downturn. And useful to her also meant not pushing for a higher salary. She thought the higher earners would obviously go first.

The day was normal. She didn’t join in much of the chatter because she didn’t really know what they were talking about. She knew about the Kardashians but couldn’t keep up with what they did and didn’t know why the others did. Or how they remembered all those details. The news passed her by. She knew there were super beings in her city, but that was all. She had no interest in them. Her overriding interest was getting through the day somehow without having an accident or some sort of incident she couldn’t control. And she knew she couldn’t control any incident out of the ordinary.

“’Night Vi,” said one of her co workers as she left that evening.

Why couldn’t she say ‘Violet’? That was how she preferred herself to be called. Certainly not ‘Vi’. She shuddered when she was called that, although she was now adept at not letting any such shuddering show. She hated being called Vi. Hated it with a passion but had never even mentioned this preference to anyone in her life, leaving her friends, well acquaintances really, to address her as they wished.

There was no malice in this. She knew that, she really did. So why didn’t she object to being called Vi? She didn’t want to cause a fuss that might mark her as not a team player which would impact on her employability.

Just before entering her apartment that evening, her neighbour, Mrs. De la Motte opened her door.

“Hello Vi,” even this frail old lady with white hair called her Vi, it was so unfair, “I’ve a parcel for you. Hold on and I’ll get it.”

Violet smiled and waited as the old lady shuffled back into her apartment to get the parcel. Mrs. De la Matte wore minimal makeup and Violet couldn’t understand that. She would never ever go out without her full makeup. She felt wrong without it and only removed it to sleep. It was the first thing she did, after her shower, each morning, whether she was going out or not.

Violet waited a long time at the entrance, wondering about her safety here. Yes she was in her own apartment block, but bad people could also get in. She was always more unsafe outside her own apartment, where she had had her security upgraded years ago. Better locks and more of them, but she still worried about the installers.

Had they copied her keys and could they get in any time they wanted? It was so long since they did the work, no one, not even the police, would suspect them when they did, and her apartment would be stripped of everything she owned. And she would be raped and beaten and left for dead. She would die after a long and lingering period of unbearable pain. Death would be a release. She sometimes tried to persuade herself that that would never happen. Her answer to herself was always that it had never happened yet.

“Here you are. The postman delivered it this morning. A new man, his name is Arthur, Arthur Kranz. I’ve never seen him before. Do you know him?”

Violet couldn’t understand how such a weak, frail old woman could even dare to speak to strange men, never mind discover such information. She felt safe enough in interrupting her.

“Thank you Mary. I’m sorry, but I really have a lot to do tonight. Perhaps some other time?”

Mary De la Motte smiled in acquiescence and slowly turned and re entered her apartment. She was used to Vi.

At her kitchen table, safely locked inside her safe zone apartment, Violet gasped and her hand flew to her mouth is shock. She had opened the parcel before even thinking about parcel bombs. After all, she wasn’t expecting this. Anyone could have sent it. This thought frightened her and her opening it without precautions frightened her even more. She didn’t know what precautions she could take, but that wasn’t the point. She returned to the opened parcel a few minutes later with a cup of refreshing tea in her hand and read the letter that came with the contents.

It was from lawyers and detailed that her aunt Marigold had passed. The contents were her inheritance. The letter gave the contents of the whole will so she knew her cousin Sheila had inherited the cash, which was a surprisingly small amount. But even so, Violet would have welcomed it. She lived on a day to day basis because her income was so small and she couldn’t even think of a way to increase it.

Cousin Sheila would welcome it no doubt, but she had money of her own. Violet was left with the items Aunt Marigold valued, in the hope she would remember her.

Apparently, her other cousin had inherited something like her box. She didn’t think Freya would be pleased at that. She hadn’t been in touch with those two for years now, which suited her down to the ground. She liked that, especially now. There would be friction and arguments between them because of this. She would hate being in that type of environment.

On inspecting the contents she found various items of clothing that would never fit her. She was on the large side and Aunt Marigold was stick thin. Violet’s doctor repeatedly categorised her as obese and tried to get her interested in diet and exercise, but she knew better than him. He was just trying to make more money by getting her to buy stuff. Stuff that would addict her so he could profit more from her. She was happy the way she was.

The clothes aside, there was jewellery and small items from around the globe. All very nice, but nothing that really struck her fancy. Nothing she would keep, but nothing she could sell for more than a few dollars either.

A small box at the bottom almost evaded her attention. She discovered it as she started to pack the things up again. It contained a smooth stone with a stick drawing on it and a hand written letter.

The letter explained she had left the money to Sheila because that’s what she needed the most and that she and Freya were left items that would be beneficial to them if they used them properly.

Violet was insulted at that. Yes, she knew they were Aunt Marigold’s items to pass on as she pleased, but how could she get something as basic as that so wrong?

The letter went on to inform her that the jewel in the box was not valuable in monetary terms but it was valuable in other ways. Violet stared at the stone she had found there. This was definitely not valuable. It was a stone with a stick picture on it. How could she mistake that for a jewel? Even a fake jewel? She went back to the letter.

‘Violet,’ it said. At least Aunt Marigold called her Violet. ‘This jewel has been the making of me and it will be the making of you. I inherited it from my great grandmother when she passed. It has been in our family for centuries. I have always worn it since I received it and I attribute my happiness to it. I can almost say it is magic, but it obviously is not. I am not rich and never have been, but ever since I received this inheritance, I have never been in want. Whatever I needed was always there for me at the last minute by many and various means. I have come to rely on it for decades now and I urge you to do the same.’ The letter went on with details she would think about later.

Violet looked at the runestone and wondered how this could possibly be called a jewel. She also wondered how she knew it was a runestone and that the stick picture on it was a rune. But Violet’s curiosity was almost non existent, and that thought soon dissolved into nothingness.