The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

One could hardly tell it was fall from the weather. The sun was warm and the grass of the quad was lush. Only the orange tint of the leaves on the deciduous trees gave hint as to the season.

Nicole leaned back against the lumpy smooth bark of an elm, enjoying the sunlight. Her vertebrate biology book was open on her lap, face down. She yawned and stretched, eyes closed, smiling.

“Learning by osmosis?”

She looked up, and her smile grew.

“Hi, Andrea.”

“Hi, Nicole.” Andrea smiled back. “Good to see you studying this early in the quarter.”

Nicole shrugged. “She told me to get an A.”

“Nice to have such a firm... anchor for your willpower.”

“Yes it is.”

Andrea stepped to one side, revealing a cute woman standing behind her. Deeply tanned skin and dark, mysterious eyes. “Nicole, this is Fern.”

“Hi, Fern.”

“Hi.”

“I assume Jillian told you about her?”

Nicole paused for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. I’m surprised...” she looked around, but no one was near them. “I’m surprised you kept her.”

Andrea gestured. “Can we sit?”

“Please.”

The two of them sat down, Fern folding her legs beneath her Indian-style. The glossy black ribbon around her neck set off her short black hair.

Andrea stretched out her legs. “What would it have meant, if I had let her go? Dropped her off at your Mistress’ gate with a ribbon on top?”

“That you were smart.”

“That I was weak.” Andrea pushed her sunglasses up her nose. They were the fashionable sort, thin wire frames and lightly tinted yellow lenses, hiding nothing.

“I know the danger I’m in, Nicole. I may not be able to... encompass it, but I can see it is there. And I have to face it. There is no way to hide. Getting rid of Fern would have been safer, but it would have changed nothing. Wouldn’t have reduced the threat.”

Nicole nodded. “I see your point. You deprogrammed her?”

Andrea looked at her pet. “Re-programmed. I didn’t pull out the strings that Jillian attached, just found them and tied them differently.”

“You think.”

“I think.”

Nicole closed her eyes, rubbed her shoulders into the tree, and enjoyed the sun. If she’d been wearing a blouse, she would have opened a few buttons, but the tight pink t-shirt kept her anchor well covered.

“So,” she said, not opening her eyes. “Was there anything else?”

“Yeah. Will you come to my party?”

Her eyes opened at that. “Your what?”

“My party. I’m having a party, and I want you to come.”

“You do like to live dangerously.”

Andrea laughed. “Maybe. Maybe I just like you, Nicole, and want to have you at my party.”

“And get me drunk and get into my pants?”

“Maybe that too.”

“Can I bring friends?”

“Only if you ask me first.”

“Anya.”

“Okay.”

“L44.”

“Not that kind of party.”

Nicole laughed. “I see. And you aren’t worried that I’ll try to hypnotize your guests? Or you?”

“Will you?”

“I can honestly say that I don’t know.”

Andrea leaned back into the grass and wiggled her toes in her sandals. “Like I said, Nicole, it’s my life. I’m going to have to deal with insidious mind control predatrices like you. In fact, exactly like you. Should I be a shut-in?”

“Arundsen taught you his secret, didn’t he?”

Andrea smiled. “What secret?”

“When’s the party?”

“Saturday the eighth, at nine. Cool girls arrive at ten.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Cool.”

Andrea stood up, as did Fern. “See you later, Nicole. Enjoy your studying.”

“Thanks. See you around.” She leaned back, then forward again. “Oh! One thing.” The two girls stopped.

“Yes?”

She looked up at the taller, darker girl. “Hey Fern.” Her eyes twinkled. “Raindrops keep tapping on your slit.”

Fern stiffened. “Yes,” she said slowly. “My mind is open to control.”

Nicole smiled, and leaned back against the tree.

“All yours. See you in class.”

“So.”

She lifted the cup to her lips. Eighteenth century Chinese porcelain, not quite as fair as her skin.

“So,” he replied.

“Any word from the east?”

“Yes. He’s a pet, now. They stuck so much metal in his brain that he has to be told to wipe his ass. Apparently he gave them enough trouble they felt there was no recourse.”

She nodded. “Good, I suppose. Though it would have been nice to take him apart here.”

“I doubt they would have stood for it.”

“Probably not.” She considered a silken scroll on the wall. “One day we shall have to find out what their not standing might actually mean.”

“I’d rather you not.”

“You just don’t want to choose.”

“True.” He tilted his cup and drank the last of the chocolate. “I don’t.”

The tea room was warm, lit by a stained glass skylight on which pastel dragons circled an amber sky. The furniture was oriental, far too old to be called Asian. Deep teakwood and scarlet silk, creamy jade and lacquered bamboo. She refilled her tea cup.

“This room always gives me a desire to play Mah Jongg,” she said. “Do you play?”

“I have.”

“You could bring Miss Grey, then. We could have a game.”

“Who would be our fourth?”

“I could provide one.”

“I rather think none of your pets can be trusted to beat you.”

She pouted. “Certainly they can.”

“I’d still suspect hidden signals under the table.”

“We could invite Doctor Rose.”

“He’d never come, and you just want him here so you can hurt him.”

She took a sip of tea. “True. I understand he’s having to remake his entire staff.”

“It appears so.”

“Why won’t you let me crush him?”

“I have good reasons. And if you really wanted to crush him, you would.”

“True, but I only tolerate him for your sake.”

“And I appreciate that.”

“Your protégé is becoming daring.”

“Oh?”

“She has invited Nicole and Anya to a party.”

“Really?”

“Indeed.”

“That is daring.”

Her cup reached the saucer with more force than was necessary. “Neil, did you share with her your secret?”

He looked into her eyes, those deep blue eyes he could no more read than he could read the sun.

“No,” he said. “No, I have not.”

Their eyes locked, neither finding any aperture, any entrance.

“Well, then,” she said. She looked down. “Your cup is empty.” She raised a hand.

A nude, collared slave with sandy blond hair and pale green eyes stepped forward. “Mistress.”

“Bring Neil here more chocolate, margaret.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Her glassy gaze never wavering, the slave took Arundsen’s cup and saucer, pivoted in place, and left the room.

“Quick work,” he observed, watching her rigid back.

“The natural had already broken her. She should be in physical training right now, to get rid of the extra pounds, but I thought you might enjoy seeing what I did with her.”

“Indeed. Thank you.”

She smiled.

He meditated for a moment upon her nose, seeking the key to her beauty, and once again failing to find it.

“Will you be allowing your girls to attend this party?” he asked.

“Allowing them? No. I will be sending them.”

“I see. Should I warn Miss Grey?”

“Do you need to?”

He smiled. “Probably not.”

Slave margaret re-entered the room. Steam curled from the cup in her hand. They watched her place it gingerly down in front of him.

“Slave margaret,” Snowdon said.

“Yes, Mistress?”

“Do you recall how you came here?”

“Yes, Mistress. I had been a Mistress myself, until I was converted into a slave by a telepath. Then, you remade me into your slave. Now i live only to serve you.”

Snowdon gave Arundsen a meaningful look. He returned a small, ironic smile.

The chocolate was excellent.