The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I kept telling myself I was paying more attention to others. Saying it didn’t make it so, but the change from looking somewhere else, to looking at their eyes when they spoke improved. I may not have listened better, but my confidence improved and they reacted better to me.

I knew eyes are how one can tell when the attention is focused. It was not simply a trick I learned or was learning. I wanted the attention myself so if I focused my gaze, then they would feel compelled to look at me and perhaps listen to me more.

I keep telling myself I’m paying more attention. Maybe it was working.

When I looked in her eyes I always was strongly focused.

Gravesend in Brooklyn, a little off of Avenue U, during the era of the Music of the British Invasion, young Hyman Wraight had been unable to get any of the girls in his school interested in him.

He was a lanky teenager with a narrow face and dark hair. Some girls were still wearing poodle skirts, some were starting to be chancy with miniskirts. The bullet bras were still common, but some were in rebellion mode and going without. Those quickly gained the reputation of being the bad girls in his school.

The girls all swooned over the Beatles, Herman’s Hermits, the Rolling Stones… none of which appealed to Hyman at all. He strongly preferred classical music, Tchaikovsky, Beethoven, Chopin. String quartets, French horn pieces, the music from operas like Rossini’s Figaro.

But the popular girls couldn’t talk to anyone if it wasn’t about rock and roll. They also taunted him with his name, causing him to turn red with the references to sexual virginity, saying he would always be one. His name was used as a joke so often even the eggheads repeated it. He so wanted to get away from Gravesend.

Not like his brother did though. His older brother Curtis was in the marines. Hyman worried about the draft almost as much as he was unsettled about how unlikely his getting a date was. He couldn’t avoid seeing the news on television. Everything in the world felt like it was coming apart. In his world that is.

It was normal for him to leave Brooklyn at the end of school Fridays with his one friend, a heavy guy named Joey Finklestein. Joey had to go through name taunts too. Waiting by the school stretched out longer than usual and the gaggle of girls gathered at the corner kept pointing at him.

One of the girls was Karen Epperson, the head of the cheerleader squad. She in particular caught his attention when she pointed at Joey coming out of the building. Joey was doing a mechanical walk, like a robot, marching down the steps in a totally uncharacteristic manner. The girls were not merely giggling but were laughing outright, except for Karen. Karen pointed at him and suddenly he felt his body straighten up and turn. He had no control. He was marching to join Joey in the same robotic manner. Not understanding why he couldn’t stop his body he realized something Karen was doing was making this happen. In moments he marched straight into Joey and then their arms went up around each other’s necks. The laughter behind him got louder as they kissed, making Hyman burn with rage. She was doing something to force this and didn’t care he knew she was doing it to him.

This was his first encounter with a mentalist. He spent hours at the library trying to find out about the kind of remote mental control that was done. He found damn little. Most of the material was speculative and useless. There were no sources he could turn to easily.

Soon though, he had a greater concern. He’d been designated “1A” for the draft and unsurprisingly his number had come up. It seemed like there was no time at all between getting the “Greetings” letter and taking the bus to Fort Jackson. South Carolina wasn’t at all like home, everyone busy yelling at him or trying to get out of service. While he was there two of the men in his squad went AWOL without any hint of what might have happened to them. He would rather have been elsewhere but he wasn’t going to avoid service.

There was some comfort that Karen Epperson could not reach him here. Also the DI tended to chew more on the other recruits than him. It was a small comfort though and in what seemed like far too few weeks before they were put on planes. It was an ominous end to 1967 for him.

When the fighting came to where he was stationed in 1968, it was brutal. There was a lot of shooting going on, sometimes by him, but it seemed he spent more time in filth and dampness than anything else. The good fortune he never had to be on point for any of their sweeps off base. When the end of his tour came, he was relieved.

A month after he was home, a pair Marine officers came to deliver news of his brother. The news had come home awfully slowly. It seemed Curtis was killed during the Tet offensive at the battle of Hue. They were talking to his mother when he heard them mention Perfume River and he could only shake his head at the thought his brother died near a smelly river.

It was during his time at the Community College he encountered another mentalist. He’d managed to get a young woman named Judy Harris to go on a couple dates with him. He got along with her pretty well and she was quite attractive. For once he felt things might get better. Until that one date out on Coney Island.

Some guy had been looking at them on the beach soaking up rays. Short fellow with hair bleached by the sun, a smooth tan, and clearly not particularly muscular. Even Hyman had more muscles from his military experience still. But the guy walked right up and Hyman couldn’t move. The same force, or kind of force, that messed him up with Joey was keeping him from moving now. The stranger took Judy’s hand and helped her to her feet. Then they kissed. A deeply romantically intense kiss. The guy just looked at Hyman and laughed as he walked away hand in hand with Judy. Hyman’s legs and arms would not work for him for almost an hour.

When he tried to call Judy, he was told she was dating someone else. Trying to confront her personally resulted with the same outcome. She had moved on, she’d told him. He was pretty sure just who she’d moved on with. Before long he was back at the library, one branch after another looking for helpful information. The couple times he’d tried to get help, he was treated as though he was a lunatic.

Researching telepathy became a hobby he pursued even after he graduated, found a job, moved out of his parents’ home, and managed to find someone with an intermittent interest in him. He closed the deal with her at one point but that was all she wanted with him. A place to park herself in bed when she didn’t have another more serious date. By that point, he didn’t mind. Work was taking up his life, giving him purpose when nothing else seemed to. He did get a lot more attention from her from July to mid-August in 1976, but shortly after that she dropped off the face of the Earth,

He was at the bank branch to cash a check when his next troubling encounter with a mentalist happened. Suddenly he had realized he was unable to move his feet. Immediately he recognized the effect as being from a telepath. Looking around, everyone else in the bank was confused with their feet stuck in place. Except for one mid-twenties-ish woman, not particularly comely in features, who stood by the door. Shortly a man came from the back with a briefcase then handed it to her. She left and everyone else went back to acting normal.

It occurred to him afterwards it was odd he remembered this event when everyone else in the bank acted as if no time had passed during which the woman had slipped away with the briefcase. He assumed it was full of cash. How was it he was unaffected by her ‘forget me’ instructions everyone else had gotten?

Three times he’d run into telepaths yet the world didn’t know about their existence. He did not understand how this could be. He could not be the only one who ran across them that remembered. Fear was starting to drive his anger. Who knew what one of them could do to him at any instant without him knowing? Though, the fact he remembered when other people did not was oddly unique.

Time rolled past him, the Challenger blew up, Kuwait was invaded by Iraq, a commercial jet blew up off Long Island, a couple kids in Colorado made news by shooting up their high school. Hyman was alone and used to it. Not happy, but still terrified of the potential of running into another mentalist who could be even more destructive of his life. He wasn’t given to conspiracy theory type things, but since he’d had first hand experience he did wonder just how much a telepath could control.

The world was busy bracing for the Millennium bug, something with computers he barely understood. In a rather unusual circumstance he’d agreed to go to a New Years party. The party turned out to be in a high rise in the upper west side with a balcony that looked out over the park.

It seemed to be turning out to be a good plan. There were several unattached women about his age at the party that he managed to be conversational with. If he had to assess himself, he felt he’d been quite charming. He had enjoyed the spiked punch enough to be mildly atop his toes. Even to the extent he’d danced with a couple of the single women. To his fortune he collected a phone number from one of them named Ellen.

His boss was there and took him aside for a few minutes to talk business. It was truly reassuring his boss indicated there was a slot opening up a step up, and he was being considered for the position. Midnight came, the ball dropped down in Times Square, the cheering and singing of Auld Lang Syne began. He managed to collect a midnight kiss from Ellen, whose eyes twinkled when he did.

That was when he saw him. The short guy, though his hair was no longer bleached from the sun. There weren’t any more muscles on the fellow either. Hyman recognized him immediately though. Memories of the day at the beach with Judy came washing back. If he’d seen him a bit sooner, he could have left the party in a rush, but he didn’t.

As he stood there with his eyes locked on the guy, the mentalist’s eyes spotted him. Suddenly he was frozen in place and couldn’t say anything. He realized the same was true of Ellen beside him but she was probably unaware of it. The little man came over to Hyman, standing in front of him.

“Yes. I should be able to remember you.”

He walked around Hyman a couple times. Then he snapped his fingers and lifted his head to look him in the eyes.

“Yes. Now I remember. Coney Island. Judy.” He chuckled a few minutes. “Nice big boobs, great legs, and such a screamer in bed. Too bad you missed out on that. Then again, where would my fun have been if I hadn’t seen her and decided to make her mine.”

A moment of silence passed, Hyman still couldn’t speak.

“Oh sure, right. What happened to her, you may wonder.”

With no ability to reply, Hyman stood as he’d been posed, like a manikin.

“She was great for a while. Then I had her become a money maker for me. She had lots of clients. Too bad she ended up so sick. That was sad. I suppose I could have rented her to you for an hour.”

Judy had been turned into a whore by this man. He didn’t even know the man’s name but those cold blue eyes were starting to make him angry. The mentalist looked at Ellen.

“She’s a bit older, but I’m sure she’ll make my life fun for a few weeks before she starts turning tricks too.”

At this point, inside, Hyman was furious, his rage boiling well past the point of control. Except the man had controlled him mentally. He tried to reach inside himself to push the man’s grappling hooks off his mind. The guy reached for Ellen and was pulling her close to kiss him as he had with Judy so many years gone in the past.

The dam broke. His anger was itself a pile driver. Not knowing how or what he was doing, his own mind drove a spike right into the strange mentalist’s thoughts. Not only were all the little hooks that had been put in his thoughts gone, but now he had the other man anchored as if in concrete. The first thing he did was force the man to release Ellen.

It wasn’t that simple though. He’d claimed his own freedom from the mentalist but had not taken the same level of physical control. The man stepped back, starting to turn as though to run. Now though, he realized it was his turn to make someone freeze in place.

He walked up in front of the man. It was his turn to smile. He liked that. Yes, he had control now, this was going to be enjoyable. No more would telepaths be manipulating him. This one had to die.

“You are done.” Fear in the man’s eyes grew.

Hyman made the short telepath walk in a drunken stagger around the party until people began to comment on the drunk who was having so much fun. It was like performing wizardry. Then he walked him to the edge of the balcony and had him dance right over. His next thought was he’d have to find Karen Epperson again to teach her the error of her ways.

Ellen went home with him that night. They really didn’t stop fucking until January fourth.

Screeching wheels meant only one thing to Paul. He tried to run down the alleyway near him. Unlike so other many other alleys, he had the good fortune to find one he could escape down with more than one outlets.

It turned out not to be useful as they caught up with him again, half an hour later. Two bulky men in sweatshirts and jeans grabbed him. He was thrown in the back of a black SUV. His only thought at that instant was being a CI for the detective was a bitch. Another trip to the little room with one table and two chairs, he was sure. And the big mirror where someone was always watching.

It wasn’t to be this time. They put a blindfold on him. The drive was much longer than his usual trip to the unfriendly hotel. He was dragged through several doors along some corridors, over rugs and hard surface floors.

They stood him up, pushing him back against the wall he couldn’t see.

“Stay.” The voice was commanding. He decided not to disappoint the voice. Somehow it seemed like it would be a uniquely bad idea not to cooperate.

“No, he doesn’t need to come into the office,” said another voice. “He’s close enough already.”

A heavy sounding door closed. He didn’t move. The fear he had bled away slowly. He straightened up. The door opening sound came again.

“Frank, start getting people up here. The boss says we have to relocate.”

There were lots of feet moving around, some heavy breathing.

Then another odd raspy sounding voice said, “Drop him off outside a precinct house. Not here, somewhere a good ways away. Give him a gun when you drop him off.”

Paul saw what he had to do. When the hands led him back out to a car, he cooperated completely.

Shakespeare turned out to be the choice for the evening. A Midsummer Night’s Dream was playing in a small off Broadway theater. No, more like off-off-Broadway. Ben enjoyed it. Shakespeare was always a favorite of his and performances had to be truly awful for him not to enjoy any of the plays.

Janet kept leaning into his shoulder. She clung to his arm and held his hand with her slender fingers. Now that he wasn’t working for her she seemed to have no inhibitions about displays of affection towards him.

As soon as the little contretemps in the play wrapped up and Puck delivered his fourth wall breaking spiel everyone stood to give applause. Almost the entire audience seemed to know someone in the performance. It wasn’t exactly a large audience either though. On the way out the usher handed them a handbill for another play the little troupe seemed to be planning.

Quiet and out of the way of the crowds was good, he supposed. Janet wanted to hold his hand while he was trying to flag down a cab. She lived closer to the theater so they directed the cabbie to take them to her place. Her hand slipped onto his lap.

Eyebrows raised, he looked at her eyes. For a woman he’d known as a fierce manager when he worked with her, he did not expect her to giggle like a schoolgirl. She did though. Her fingers ran over him through the fabric of his slacks, tracing his cock in obvious and intentional ways. Not worried about the cabbie at all, he still didn’t want to do anything in the back of the hack. It appeared she would be satisfied just trying to get him aroused on the way to her place.

It was pretty clear he didn’t have to do anything to get her aroused other than his arm around her shoulders. He softly pushed her fingers from the zipper and button on his slacks.

“Not here,” he told her.

For such a tough businesswoman she sure had a glorious little girl pout. But she nodded and for the moment was content to feel him through the fabric. When the cab came to a stop it looked to him as though she was a bit disappointed.

At the door to her apartment she had to let go of his arm long enough to get her keys out.

“Here, let me,” he took the keys and unlocked the door, pushing it open, then handed back the keys. “I had fun.”

“Aren’t you coming in?,” she queried. Disappointment welled up inside her. She believed he was aroused enough that she assumed he would just naturally be interested in a bit of dalliance.

“I will be glad to. With the understanding there is going to be a little talking first.”

Concerned suddenly, she wondered what was wrong.

“Okay, come on in. Have a seat.”

He walked in and closed the door behind him. He made a point of her seeing he was locking the deadbolt. Looking about he found she had a love seat suitable for two and sat on one end of it. He patted the seat beside him. She smiled again.

“Before we do anything, I need to tell you a few things.”

Over the next hour he explained the recent activities, the kidnapping, his ability. She listened intently, convinced through demonstration as he went through the entire series of events.

The evening was not ending badly at all. He wasn’t sure if it was her obsession or if she genuinely thought he had not acted improperly when he made her kiss him in the office. She seemed to accept everything.

She did not want him to leave despite what he could do.

The detective’s phone was ringing. Dammit. Shuteye time was at a premium, what was it now. Cain picked up the phone and answered.

“Detective Cain here,” his eyes barely open.

“JD, I catch you sleeping?”

“Oh hi Shaw, what’s up?”

“Check out the news. Right away.”

He sat up, went to his desk. The laptop he kept at home wasn’t good for much other than picking up news and some email. He really didn’t care and wasn’t one to surf the web. He chose the local TV station news link he had bookmarked.

“Shit.”

Blazing out at him were pictures of a dead man. The story read the man was identified as Paul Browen. He looked back at the picture. There was no doubt it was Paully. The story said the man came into the station shooting a gun and the officers in the station killed him. Everyone was describing it as suicide by cop.

“Shaw, that man didn’t have a violent bone in his body. He was a gambling addict. He’s been beaten up more times than I can count and still never took to guns or knives. There was also a plan I’d agreed to help him with if this panned out, to get him help and away from this stuff.”

“Think about where we were scouting yesterday.”

“Yeah?”

“Well if we thought the telepaths are involved, it seems dozens of times more likely now.”

Poor Paully. He must have gotten too close to one of the mind readers who then discovered he’d been watching them. Any one of them like Madison could have made Paully do this.

“We gotta get the mindbender out there as soon as possible.”

“He’s dealt with you more, you better give him a call.”

“Sure thing, meet me at the Tram, get him there too.”

Cain rubbed his eyes. Goddamnit.

It gets harder as you get older. Ben thought that had the makings of a dirty joke if it weren’t so painfully true for all the other things he was trying to deal with. Detective Cain had called. They had found a place where possibly, just possibly, they might find this Wizard character.

And they wanted to investigate with his help. Urgently.

He started to rise. Who gets up before the sun. Cops obviously, but he really would have liked longer in the comfort of his blankets. He smiled when he stood up. Ginny was curled up in her little ball form in the nest at the foot of his bed.

He was almost done dressing when the sounds disturbed her enough to start moving too. She looked at the clock and tilted her head. What was he doing up? Shaking sleep out of her head, and rubbing it out of her eyes she padded off to the porcelain throne to pee.

Ben stuck his head in, watching her pleasantly for a moment. She gave him a cheerful look for such an early hour.

“I have to go out a while. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“Janet again or did Celia...”

“Neither. My detective friends seem to want a little help.”

“I will miss you Master.”

“Try not to worry about me until dinner time, pet.”

She cleaned up then rushed to him and flung herself into a kiss. He felt the loins start to wake up. There wasn’t time right now though.

“mmmm.” He grinned. “Behave. They said they need me now.”

He grabbed his keys and left. Bolting the lock with his keys from outside.

Janet was thinking about Ben when she woke. He’d left in the wee hours of the morning, after putting her through a dazzling escapade of sexual pleasure. He had taken such strong control and made the acts they performed so passionate. Ben even made sure she was awake when he left despite her having passed out from one of her orgasms.

He had told her about the talent he has and how he’d caused her to kiss him. Twice. And pass out at the dinner where that woman shot him. Somehow, none of it bothered her. It was true she had been suppressing her interest in him when he worked for her. He didn’t say as much, but she was certain he’d resigned so she would be unhampered by a work related romance.

She got dressed and chose to go to a local breakfast place. The sun was barely up. She had far too much energy for how little sleep she’d had. Maybe, just maybe, she could stop by Ben’s place and surprise him.

Cain was waiting outside the Tram’s entrance. Ben could feel anger in the man without even trying to pick anything up. He wondered what was up. Also, he pondered, where was the other detective? Cain spotted him and waved Ben to join him.

“Greetings fellow morning traveler.”

“What?,” the detective was clearly expecting him to say something else.

“Nevermind. Hi there.”

“Shaw should be here any minute now.”

“I get that there’s urgency in this. May I ask why?”

“Some other time maybe.”

“Okay, I won’t snoop.”

Cain twisted his head a bit looking at Ben. A mind reader who promised not to snoop? It just sounded so odd. He both wanted to hit Ben because he could read his mind and find out; but he also was finding it good to realize Ben was honoring his promise not to intrude on him and Shaw. He was still a bit recalcitrant about taking Ben out of the dangerous threat box in his mind.

“Hello,” the new voice that joined him was Shaw. Shaw wasn’t alone either.

“Toomey, isn’t it?,” Ben offered his hand. The officer was out of uniform.

“You must be this mindbender the detective was talking about,” said Toomey.

Ben turned to Shaw, “Is there anyone who doesn’t know about me in the police?”

“I wanted another backup in case anything got rough,” Shaw replied, “Besides, he was the other officer who was at the restaurant when you were hit by a tranq dart.”

“And you got him to believe you?,” Ben looked at Toomey. “One would think, one would, it would require a demonstration.”

“Not entirely convinced but willing to take it on faith for now. These two guys have helped me out a bunch of times. I’ll believe them until someone proves otherwise,” Toomey shrugged.

“Hey,” Ben looked at Shaw, “’mindbender’?”

“Oh, that. We needed a word to use which wouldn’t make us sound crazy in passing being overheard. It’s more descriptive of you than just ‘telepath.’”

“Let’s get moving,” Cain interjected. “We need to move in to check out the tip.”

“Lead on MacDuff.”

Cain looked at Ben again, then just shook his head. Toomey chuckled.

“Shakespeare,” said Toomey as they started to pass through the doors to the Tram terminal.

“Not exactly, but sort of. The line in the Scottish play is ‘lay on, MacDuff.’”

“When did it change to ‘lead’ instead of ‘lay’?”

“I have no clue. I never give it much thought.”

In the Tram Toomey started talking to Ben, getting a small demonstration of the mind reading ability at his own request. He too was surprised, impressed, then a bit nervous about it.

“How far away can you do this from?”

“My range seems to reach out somewhere between three to five miles. But,” he waved his hands at the city around them, the bridge beside them, the various places people were, “we’re in one of the largest cities in the world. There’s too many people to do better than, oh, let’s say five to ten blocks?”

“Can’t you read minds on Roosevelt Island already?”

“Sure, but if I do it at a distance I’m far more likely to be spotted by other telepaths. It makes me a target in return if I’m not dealing directly with one. At least, that’s how I’ve seen it when dealing with the telepaths we’re looking for.”

“I get it. So, only telepathy, stuff for the mind?”

“Almost. I tried to do the telekinesis thing Detective Cain,” he was interrupted.

“You might as well just call me JC,” said the detective.

“Right then. JC suggested telekinesis. I tried it. That’s a no go. I’ve been trying to figure out if there’s more ways to use it. It seems I can sense things in close proximity to my own nervous system. Which gets me close to being able to kill off germs and viruses. Not enough to matter though.”

“Maybe you could work on that and get into medicine.”

“uh… that would be a no thank you.”

Ben was scanning ahead as subtly as he could. Nothing in particular stood out. Yet.

It was a bit of a walk from the Tram to the medical facility in question. Cain and Shaw indicated they should stop at a point still far enough away that lookouts wouldn’t spot them. While the officers tried to observe any potential lookouts, Ben went on with scanning. There were a couple hundred people in the building and if the other telepath was like him, he’d be able to hide himself from other telepaths.

“Guys, this may take me a while. Can you keep an eye out for trouble please?”

Starting from outside in to the lowest floors, he started his scanning technique. Something became obvious very quickly. Everyone in the building had been touched for adjustments. In order to find out how they’d been adjusted he would have to do more than just a surface scan.

“This is going to be a little harder than I thought. Everyone in there has been affected.”

“When he says affected,” Toomey asked, “what does he mean?”

“He means their minds have been altered to do something and alter their behavior.”

“Whoa, wait. Could they all attack us like a zombie movie?”

“It’s possible, but they aren’t zombies. They’re people who will act like intelligent robots doing what they were programmed to do. Remember what I told you about the guys from SWAT?”

“No shit.”

“Ben’s concern is the telepath we’re looking for has made them hostile and dangerous to us.”

By now, Ben had been through a couple dozen of the minds that had been altered. He was finding something that would make the people in there violent. He was removing it, but it was not a fast thing to do. They’d all been programmed to stay away from one of the floors, and in particular one room. Seeing anyone trying to go there would trigger them. It was not a simple matter to just find the trigger and the programming. Removing it was proving to be difficult as well.

Each mind he slipped thin tendrils of his own probes into and slowly he had to disable half a dozen instructions left behind at the same time. He couldn’t just imprint something to replace the bits of control that had been planted. If he did that, these people very well could lose their own identity.

Every single one he probed had the problem.

A couple had been altered to alert security by phone if there were intruders unexpectedly in the building. Similar to but without the replication trigger to replace it he’d used with Ginny. He was starting to feel more confident this wizard guy wasn’t as good as himself. Except there were a huge number of people for him go through to clean out these mind traps.

He paused, “Can you get me something to drink, soda, coffee, water, juice. Whoever did this went to a lot of trouble to make all of them stay away from one floor and one room. There may be some on that floor but I’m betting they are protecting the room too. I’ve got to undo every one of them before we go in.”

“Can’t you just make them sleep or immobile?,” asked Cain. He was irritable now, they were here and it didn’t seem they could do a thing until Ben finished.

“If I do that, then the telepath will know we’re here. Not to mention the other problem.”

“What’s that?”

“Someday, someone will want to go to that floor or that room and it will trigger the people I don’t remove this stuff from. It’d be like a time bomb.”

Cain clamped his eyes shut for a moment. Then he started walking, “I’ll be back with something to drink for everyone.”

Ben returned to his probe and clear activity.

The door chime rang. Ginny wondered if it was Celia. She walked over to the door and opened the peephole to look. The woman outside the door was a dark haired woman with eyes that almost seemed to have an almond shape to them. She appeared to be a little nervous.

Ginny opened the door. The woman was wearing an unseasonably short white skirt, black heels that added about three inches to her height, a gray cloak which was open in the front to reveal a patterned white blouse. The aureole of the woman’s nipples along with the firm nubbins pointed straight, displaying her breasts as though there was no gravity.

“Hi there. May I help you?,” Ginny asked.

Janet got her first view of this Ginny woman who lived with Ben. It had completely passed from her mind that he had a roommate. Janet looked at the woman before her. Ginny had on a pair of shorts that appeared too small. She had a t-shirt tied into a knot beneath her breasts holding them up on display. Her nipples were easily as visible pressing against the clothe as Janet’s were. Her brownish hair was put up at the moment in a bun. What stood out right away was the lovely silver choker she appeared to have on. Her feet though were bare which allowed Janet to have just a bit of height on her.

“My name is Janet. Ben told me he had a live in girlfriend.”

Ginny giggled. “Oh come on in. Master was out with you last night. Can I get you some coffee or something?”

It only made sense, Janet thought. If she knew about Ginny living with Ben, he would let Ginny know about going out with Janet. Did he tell her what they did last night, she wondered. What had she called him though? ‘Master?’

“He got up and left early this morning. Something about helping the detectives.

“Did you say ‘Master?’”

“Oh yes. Pleasing him is my purpose.”

With all the explanations Ben had given her about being able to control minds, he had not said anything about Ginny being his slave. He’d said he’d done something to release something or other. Janet knew she’d been paying attention. Why didn’t any real detail about Ginny stand out.

“You aren’t familiar with the lifestyle, are you?,” asked Ginny, her smile broad and innocent. “Let me explain. I’m used to it. I had to teach Sir some things. I’d been looking for the right dom for quite some time. Sir is a natural though, knowing more than I did pretty fast.”

“Uh.” Janet was feeling a little out of place. A little. She had enjoyed him taking charge last night and basically ravishing her. Yes, she thought, that was the right word, ravishing. It was interesting Ginny had to teach Ben about whatever it is they do.

“So about that drink, would you like something?”

“Right now, I’m thinking more Tequila than some juice or soda.”

Ginny went to the kitchen and returned with a bottle. She handed Janet a glass.

“Sir only keeps this for guests. So if you want something with it, you’ll have to explain.”

“N-no, I think this will be just fine.” She poured herself a few fingers worth and took a swig. The heat spreading slowly. “It is a little early to start. He did tell me a bunch of things last night.”

“Ah, Sir has been explaining his talent to people he feels important enough to know.”

“So you know he’s telepathic?”

“Yes. He took the time to explain it to Celia too.”

“The woman who he can’t control? I seem to remember him mentioning her too last night. Briefly.”

“He can control her just fine. Not with telepathy though. I’ve seen her react to him. Around him, she is submissive. No telepathy involved though. She a wonderful woman. I hope she chooses to submit to him.”

Janet wondered if he’d used it to control herself more than she’d thought.

“Give me a moment.” Janet thought about it. No. If everything he was doing was controlling her, he didn’t have to tell her about the effect he could have on people. It didn’t make sense because she had thought him pretty hot after he’d been working for her for a year. That was well before all this stuff started. She tried to consider this a bit more. Could he have put that memory in her head too? She was confused now. She hadn’t been when she got here.

“Why am I so confused now?”

“Confused how?”

“Thinking he may have changed my mind. Made me find him so exciting and arousing.”

“Oh. I see. I can’t answer that question. It would be good for you to find your trust for Sir, but if you don’t, I’ll understand. I’m sure Sir will too. I love that he’s been trying to explain. It would be awfully easy to be too frightened to explain.”

“What did you mean when you said you ‘hoped Celia chooses’ to submit to him?”

“He deserves what pleases him. But he wants her to decide independently if she wants to submit or not. She is one of the three women I think please him. There’s her, myself, and you.”

“You aren’t the least bit jealous?”

“I adore Celia and if Sir likes you, you are probably just as wonderful. He’s always good to me.”

“Always?”

“Sometimes I do get a little mischievous so he will punish me. It’s hard to tell when it’s a good time, but I enjoy that.”

“I, good god.” Janet hadn’t confronted this before. She wanted him to see her, to fuck her, to give her orgasms.

She had put away all those pictures she’d taken of him and moved the chair to somewhere normal when they were going out the first time. The shrine was gone but not forgotten. She still had that moist feeling just thinking about him.

“So tell me about submission and what it requires.”

Ben was elated to be finished. Every single person presently in the building had been cleared and rechecked for the planted controls. After having another bottle of water, he turned to the officers.

“Clear of controls now. But he could still be in there. The woman you shot had a way to hide her mind completely, which is why I didn’t know she was coming by the way.”

“How do you know that?,” asked Toomey. “She might have just been a hired gun.”

“I’d disabled four other guys with the tranquilizer guns before going in the restaurant. I’d scanned for minds before I came in. Her’s was the only one I didn’t spot.”

“Wow. It’s a good thing we were there that night.”

“Yeah, about that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Cain said. “You can thank them again later.”

Ben realized Cain didn’t want his friends to know they’d received mental suggestions they be there, it was obvious. There was enough to worry about already, he thought.

“Let’s go then,” Ben pointed to the building.

“Two at a time,” Cain clipped his badge to his belt. “You and me first Ben.”

“Make it so.” He grinned as the two of them started to cross the street. Cain was either ignoring him or he was getting used to him making lighthearted wise cracks. Or maybe he was just too angry to care. Ben would bet on that last.

The doors opened automatically from the proximity sensor above as they walked up to them. The handful of people at the information desk didn’t do more than just glance at them. With only a little effort they went to the elevators and pressed the call button. The detective kept looking around as if he expected someone to interfere with them at any moment.

“JC, relax. I already defused the human bombs in here.”

For that, Ben earned a modest glare from Cain. He wasn’t worried. Shortly, Shaw and Toomey joined them by the elevators. Just in time for the arrival of one of them. All four of them stepped in through the open doors.

Shaw looked at Ben. Ben in turn just grinned and pressed the button for the eighth floor.

“I think something happened and whoever it was left. I’m not getting anyone new at all. I know we have to look, but dammit. There’s no indication they’re still here.”

“We’ll know in a minute or two.”

The doors opened on the eighth floor. Ben went first. He surveyed the hallways off to the left, right, and short one straight ahead of them. The officers came out and were taking a gander as well. Seeing nothing, no indication at all the floor was in use, they looked at one another.

“At least the lights are on.” Officer Toomey took a step towards the corridor on the right.

“Thank heaven for small blessings,” Cain muttered in a deadpan voice.

“Which way,” asked Shaw.

Ben nodded towards the left hallway.

Again, he started to lead the way but his own expression was more serious as a reaction to the eerie emptiness the place seemed to have. His footsteps sounded too loud to him. Maybe that was because he didn’t hear the others’ as he steadily headed along the white walls that lined the corridor. There wasn’t any décor on them. Somehow that made the place creepier.

A pair of double doors on the right were closed. Trying to remember exactly which rooms people were prohibited from by the mental alterations, he did a full slow turn to make sure it was right.

“What?,” asked Shaw.

“I’m just making sure I have the right place. We can check the rest of the floor too, but the obvious clue is the room no one was to enter.”

He pulled the right door handle. The door didn’t budge. He tried pushing, but the door appeared to be locked. The left door wasn’t any different.

“So now what do I do?,” he muttered. Cain bent down to look at the lock.

“We could try kicking it in,” suggested Toomey.

Shaw looked at Ben.

“Who would have keys for this,” Ben asked.

“You’re the one who sorted out everyone’s minds. Not me. You should know.”

“Gee thanks. Two hundred minds and I assure you I wasn’t looking for keys.”

“Oh shut up,” said Cain. “There was an info desk downstairs. One of the people there might know who has the keys for the building.”

Ben nodded. In a few minutes he’d bounced through six minds looking for the maintenance people. He leaned against the wall. Crossing his arms he let out a sigh.

“He’ll be up as soon as the elevator gets him here.”

If anything, Cain seemed a bit crankier.

“You don’t think we’ll find anything in there.” He looked directly at Ben. Ben shook his head.

“I know this was a place they were at because of all the traps and tricks in the minds here. I’m certain someone was here.”

Cain scowled and walked back towards the elevator.

“He seems pretty mad today,” Ben said to Shaw.

“He has his reasons.”

A few minutes later Cain came back with a waddling plump man in a workman’s outfit. He wasn’t moving terribly fast but was doing the best pace his stubby little legs could carry him.

“This door?”

“Yes, but don’t go away, if there’s any other locks inside we may need to get through them.”

Fat fingers played with a large ring of keys and he pushed it into the lock. The key didn’t turn so he pulled it out and picked another one. This time the lock opened. He pushed the door open and walked in.

Ben and the three officers followed him in, seeing nothing but an empty outer office. One wall had an oak door. Shaw looked at the floor.

“All this scuffing here. Some heavy furniture was moved out recently. They blew off as soon as they had a clue we might be coming.”

Ben had opened the oak door. Inside were empty bookshelves, a window with heavy drapes, and nothing else.

“So, I have a question,” asked Toomey. “These guys are telepaths. They wouldn’t be scared of the police. They’d just do what they did to everyone else in the building. Control our minds, right?”

“Yeah, so?” Cain looked back at Toomey.

“Well. If they have no reason to fear normals, the only one of us that would make them nervous is,” and he poked his thumb Ben’s direction, “the other telepath.”

“I guess,” said Ben.

“If they’re actually a gang of telepaths, wouldn’t they stay to face you down? If one kept you busy the others could pile on too. You’d be toast.”

“He’s got a point,” Shaw said to Cain.

“Every thing about this stinks of someone getting stupid,” replied Cain. “Why not just turn Paully so he would be able to report on us?”

“Paully?,” asked Ben. “Who is Paully?”

“No one you know, I’m sure. He’s no longer with us.”

That explained why Cain was so grumpy. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Look around. I doubt there’s anything to find but if there’s the least clue to where they went, I want to get on their tail.

Ben contemplated whether this really meant there was only one enemy telepath, the Wizard, left. He couldn’t be so sure. Though why had he been here?

“Hey. How many people are usually on this island?,” he asked.

“I don’t know,” said Shaw, “I’d guess around twenty to thirty thousand total.”

“Nope,” said the maintenance man. None of them had noticed him for a few minutes. “They’s only about ten thousand people. It’s not that big.”

Ben opened his mind to listen. The voices of surface thoughts from everyone close by washed over him. He’d never had a problem with the voices, as if his mind was filtering them all along. Knowing they were there though made him consider what it would be like to be in parts of the heavily populated or heavily occupied parts of the city.

His head started to hurt from the voices, but he kept listening. It wasn’t too bad really. He tried opening up more as though tuning himself for more bandwidth. After a few minutes he had to stop. It became a wild race of white noise in his brain he could not handle.

“If there’s only the one. And he has to hide from the noise. He’s going to want a spot away from too many people.”

“What noise,” said Cain.

“The surface thoughts everyone has. They are always audible. Well. No. Not audible. You know what it’s like when your in a mob of people, and most of them are talking or shouting in, like. Oh, I don’t know Penn Central or Grand Central.”

“So, wait, you hear everyone’s surface thoughts?”

“Me, only if I want to. I can filter them out. I’m thinking he’s trying to be in low population areas so it’s not too much to handle. I would think, if he was as strong as that Russian guy, he’d be able to filter it. I’m just trying to extrapolate some kind of explanation for choosing here.”

“Hey,” said Toomey. “It sounds like a good explanation to me. We can start looking at centralized low density areas.”

“And I can start trailing one of the more likely people who we saw coming in here,” said Cain.

“I can try scanning for high density pockets of people who have been subjected to modifications.”

“I don’t think there’s any reason to stay here any longer,” said Shaw.

They all started towards the door.

“Hey wait. Telepaths are real??” They all turned and looked at the maintenance man.

“Get me some water. Where is that music? I thought you had found a quartet.”

The man standing at the door leaned out to talk to someone.

“They’re on the way sir. We’re a little off the beaten track here,” a woman holding a touch pad tapped it, checking the ETA. “They should be about twenty minutes sir.”

He rubbed his temples.

“It’s much better than it was, I should have come here years ago.”

A young woman in a gray dress suit came in with a pitcher of water and a glass. “Your water sir.”

She placed it on his desk and poured him a glass. He took the glass and sipped, looking at her. Then he turned the wheelchair to move around the desk.

“Have you any new word from the lab?”

“No sir, no further developments.”

He threw the glass against the wall. It shattered, the water still in it spraying around. No one moved.

“Get that cleaned up and bring me a replacement glass.”