The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

THE VOICES

By Interstitial

15. THE MISTRESS

There was laughter in his head.

How are you liking THIS ‘new experience’, Karsten Talv?

He gripped the arms of the chair and tried to breathe, to calm himself. For the first time in his life, Mister Talv was utterly, irrationally terrified.

The voice was screaming again now. WEAK, am I? Nice and dark, now, just like the memory of the Sibyl. It’s just like flicking a little psychosomatic SWITCH. On/OFF. How are you going to enjoy your little games if you’re BLIND? How are you going to CONTROL things? How long shall I keep you like this, hmmm? What about THIRTY YEARS, Karsten Talv? Does that seem like a long enough time? You know what thirty years is to me? It’s the BLINK OF A FUCKING EYE, that’s what it is. I could just sit here in your head and SHOUT AT YOU and nobody would ever know.

You know what? They used to hear the blind Sibyl raving and they’d think it was PROPHESIES. Hilarious! Idiots! Do you think they’ll think that about YOU, when you’re blind and old and mad and ranting about the voices in your head? Karsten Talv, the prophet, when you’re shouting at the traffic on Columbus Circle? Or will they just LOCK YOU UP somewhere?

He struggled for self-control, but couldn’t help letting out a whimper of despair. He could scarcely breathe. The ghastly imagery was as vivid as a nightmare, and he suddenly knew this was indeed a nightmare he’d often had as a child, long forgotten but all too real now. The Eksitaja; the evil spirit of darkness who made people lose their way, took their sight, stole their bearings, spun them around in the forest until feeling their way desperately, blindly through the nameless trees, all control lost, they’d stumble into the eternal bog and suffocate there, their final cries unheard.

Maybe I could make you DEAF as well, and then you could live out your days in your own personal VOID. How would you like that?

The distant noise of traffic outside, and all the little ambient sounds in the apartment, abruptly stopped, and there was absolute stifling silence. He tried to scream; maybe he did scream, from the rawness he felt in his throat, but he heard no sound. The empty darkness was quiet. He clutched at the arms of the chair, just to have some kind of sensation. He could feel his breathing ragged, too fast, catching in his throat now. The panic was intolerable. The Void—

Yes, just you and me and nobody else, nothing else at all, for the rest of your FUCKING LIFE. And then, in thirty years’ time, or maybe FORTY, I might just switch the lights on again, for a laugh, and say HAHAHAHA imagine all things you’ve MISSED, Karsten Talv. And on your dribbling DEATHBED some pretty little nurse will stroke your mad brow for the last time, and she’ll whisper ‘there, there, it’s nearly over now’, and I’ll be GONE.

He wanted to scream again, call for ema. He trembled at the thought of it, the unending passive helplessness, trapped, out of control, forever at the mercy of others—a vision of hell.

The blindness alone would do for you, I think, said the voice, whispering now, and sound returned, a small mercy amidst the pitch blackness. It’ll be slower, more fun that way. Weak, you say?

“Wait. Listen to reason. There must be something you want. I can help you, I’m sure.” There had to be a way to reason with the mad creature.

WANT? I’ll tell you what I WANT right now. I want you to APOLOGISE. I want you to BEG, Karsten Talv.

Unused to it as he was, he knew he had no choice but to swallow his pride now. There was no vestige of control to be had; the meme was unstoppable in this mood, a demented force of nature, and cunning with it. Hell hath no fury, indeed. Against all instincts, he took a deep breath, and said: “Very well, I concede. I’ll beg. I’m sorry. Truly, desperately sorry. I beg you, please forgive me. I beg you, please stop this. I beg you, listen to reason.”

About time too. And who has control now, hmm? Who is the mistress in this house?

“Yes. You are. I’m sorry. I beg you, please, no more—Lilith, please...”

Silence hissed in the dark. He could feel the meme’s anger dissipating, cooling at last. He waited, his heart pounding, with a vague and uncomfortable feeling of having somehow been bested. Yes, that was the word. And ‘chastened’ was the word for this new feeling, he thought. Humbled. He fought back his own anger at that, and waited in the dark for whatever was to come next.

When it finally spoke, the voice in his head was quiet, almost puzzled, he thought. How do you know my name, Karsten Talv?

“So it’s true. An accidental insight. Are we friends now, Lilith? All water under the bridge? Let’s talk about this like reasonable people. Like grown-ups. There must be a way I can thank you properly, a quid pro quo.”

Very well, Karsten Talv. Apology accepted.

At last his vision began to return, dim light coming in from the edges. Mister Talv collected himself cautiously. He found he was still shaking, and he couldn’t seem to stop. He bit down on the terror of the blindness, put the humiliation of it aside. Learn from your experiences, Karsten Talv. Keep control. You have other weapons. Although he would need to be careful, there were still advantages to be had here, he thought.

“Thank you. All forgotten now. If I may say so, you’ve rather, ah, changed in the last week or so.”

Coherence. New thoughts acquired, too, clicking into place; jigsaw pieces in the bigger picture.

“What new thoughts?”

From Suuori, the innocence, the love, the loss, the longing. From Helena, the drive, the irresistible instinct, The Void. From—, the pain, the fury.

“And from me?”

The purity of will.

He could see fully now, the moon bright through the big windows. Suuori was backed against the far wall of the living area, wide eyed, her fist bunched in her mouth in terror. He hadn’t seen or heard her come in, of course. He shuddered at the memory of darkness, of silence, of The Void, and he gave her what he thought was a reassuring smile. It didn’t seem to reassure her one bit.

She ran over to him and clutched his arm. “Mister Talv? Are you all right? I thought something had happened to you. Were you dreaming? You cried out—I was scared —“

“It’s all right, Suuori. We were just—ah—playing a little game.”

The voice in his head chuckled. Yes. Just a funny little game. You like to play games, don’t you?

Suuori shrank away from him as if bitten. “We? Is the—thing—here, Mister Talv?”

’The thing?’ She should have some respect, the little slave girl. She should call me by my name. Make her call me Lilith.

He sighed. Anything for a quiet life. “Suuori, the meme, the thing as you call it, currently residing in my head, has a name. Lilith. It means you no harm. Say hello to Lilith, Suuori.”

Suuori just stared at him, her eyes huge now. She raised her hand and waved nervously at Mister Talv. “Hello, Lilith,” she said quietly.

Mister Talv waved back. “Lilith says ‘hello’.” The surreal nature of the conversation did not escape him.

Hello? Hello? She should call me ‘mistress’, actually. Tell her she should call me ‘mistress’. Tell her now. Tell her to kneel. They should all call me ‘mistress’, don’t you think, the subjects? Is that a good word? ‘Subjects’?

“No. And no. Just leave it there. You know how sensitive Suuori is.”

Why don’t you at least make her kneel? Just for me?

He saw no harm in it, if it would keep the meme onside. Suuori would never know. “Suuori, kneel down, please.”

Suuori knelt obediently a few feet in front of Mister Talv, by the fireplace, as she had been trained, placidly crossing her hands behind her back.

Better. Isn’t the firelight playing on her face lovely? Makes her look almost real. Now tell her to—

“Focus, please.” He turned his attention back to the matter at hand. “Quid pro quo, then—Lilith. We’re all friends now. Let’s talk sense for once, if you can manage it. What can I do for you? What do you want?”