The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Wicked Stepmother

Chapter II.

“You drugged Dad?” Don could hardly believe what he’d just heard. “And, and hypnotized him?” He had the feeling he ought to be upset, whether he believed it or not, but somehow, it didn’t seem to matter much. “You made him marry you that way?” He had a sense that there was something else important about what his stepmother had just said, but he couldn’t think what it was. It was hard to think; it was easier just to keep following the pendant with his eyes, and listening to his stepmom explain things.

“Of course, Don honey.” Corinne smiled again. “It was so much simpler that way than going through months and months of courtship, after all, with the chance he’d break it off. And it’s so much easier, being married to a man who’ll do anything I want, even forget things I don’t want him remembering.” Her smile broadened. “Like what happened with you earlier. When he wakes up in the morning, he’ll have no memory of your, um, interrupting us—only of another exquisite sexual encounter with his loving wife.” Her eyes danced with amusement. “And neither will you, of course, Don dear.”

“I . . . I don’t . . . understand.” Don’s eyes kept moving, back and forth, back and forth, following the motion of Corinne’s pendant as he sat slumped bonelessly in his chair. It kept flashing as it moved, throwing off light in rainbow colors, the same rainbow colors which seemed to surround everything he saw now. Pretty colors. . . .

“It’s very simple,” the redhead replied. “I can’t have you interfering, Don dear. So when we came in here to talk, I dosed you with some of my special drug, in your tea.”

“But, but you . . . drank it too,” Don managed to get out.

“Of course, Don dear,” came the reply. “But I put it in the bottom of your cup before I brought everything out, not in the tea itself. When I poured your drink, the drug simply dissolved into it, and you drank it all down like a good boy.”

“Like a . . . good boy.” Don’s eyes lost focus. All of a sudden there seemed to be two, no three, no, five Corinnes across from him, swirling around and through them.

“That’s right, Don dear,” the redhead answered, watching her stepson carefully. Her voice seemed to echo over and over in his head, driving out what little thought remained. “A very good boy. Now be a good boy, Don dear, and close your eyes, and wait for me to tell you what to do next.”

Don’s eyelids fluttered closed. Behind them, his eyes continued to move back and forth, back and forth.

Corinne Dayner stopped swinging her pendant, tucked it securely between her breasts once more and studied the young man slumped in the chair across from her. As she did, the smile she wore broadened into a smirk. She laughed. She just loved the power her discovery had given her!

She had told Don the truth: like his father, he would remember only what she instructed him to remember of this evening’s events. Ah, but what she would remember . . . !

The redhead purred, deep in her throat. Tom Talbott was attractive in a distinguished middle-aged sort of way, but his son was a hunk, darkly handsome and with a youthful athlete’s build. And he’d just turned twenty-one two months ago, so, she told herself, it wasn’t as if she’d be robbing the cradle.

She spoke: “Don dear, can you hear me? Say, ‘Yes, Corinne ma’am,’ if you can hear me.” She was sure her words were reaching him, but his response would tell her the depth of her control.

“Yes, Corinne ma’am,” responded the youth. Corinne purred again: he was deeply under, just as she’d expected. She might have been able to hypnotize him even without the help of the drug, but with it in his system, he’d been helpless to resist and he was far deeper in trance.

The redhead pursed her lips thoughtfully. It was time to get down to business.

“Don dear,” she murmured, “open your eyes. Open your eyes and look at me.”

Don’s eyes opened. For a moment, they continued flicking back and forth. Then they focused glassily on her cleavage.

“Mmm,” Corinne said. “You like what you see, don’t you, Don dear? Tell me the truth, Don dear, you know you can tell me the truth; after all, we’re family.”

Even deep in trance, Don Talbott blushed slightly. But he answered obediently: “Yes. I like what I see.” His body confirmed his words: his trousers tented visibly as he stared.

“That’s good,” his stepmother responded. “From now on, Don dear, when I ask you a question, you will address me as ‘Corinne ma’am,’ just as you did a moment ago. It will be ‘Yes, Corinne ma’am’ or ‘No, Corinne ma’am.’ Do you understand me, Don dear?”

“Yes, Corinne ma’am,” the answer came, barely above a whisper. “I understand.”

“You will call me that because I’m older than you, and you’re respectful of your elders and obey them. And every time you call me ‘Corinne ma’am,’ your desire to do as I say will grow stronger. Do you understand me, Don dear?”

“Yes, Corinne ma’am.” Don nodded slowly, never taking his eyes off Corinne’s ample chest.

Corinne inhaled deeply, causing her breasts to strain at the fabric of her blouse. Don moaned weakly. “Now Don dear,” the redhead went on, “I’m going to ask you some questions, and you’re going to answer them. Even though some of them may be embarrassing, you’re going to answer them honestly. You’re going to tell me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Do you understand, Don dear?”

The young man gasped and shuddered. Influenced by Corinne’s inadvertent suggestion, he saw his stepmother dressed in a kinky fantasy version of a judge’s outfit, a black robe with plunging neckline and back, slit up the sides to show plenty of fishnet-stockinged leg. To his dazed mind, it was perfectly real. “Uhh,” he groaned. “Yes, Corinne ma’am. The truth. The whole truth. Nhhh, nothing but the truth.”

“That’s a good boy.” Corinne stood up and walked over to Don. She cupped his chin in one hand and tilted her face down toward his. “Now Don, you’ve already admitted you find me attractive. Do you have any fantasies about me, Don? You must tell me, you can’t help it, Don dear, and it’s all right, Don dear, I won’t be offended and I won’t tell anyone. It’s just between us. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Corinne ma’am.”

“Then tell me, Don dear. Tell me. Reveal your fantasies to me, Don, tell me your private visions of me.”

Don obeyed, describing the sexy-judge image which still filled his mind and eyes. Corinne listened attentively, her lips curving in pleasure. When the mesmerized youth in front of her fell silent, she reached down with her free hand and ruffled his hair. “Good boy, Don dear.” She paused a moment. “And do you have any other sexy images of me, Don? Perhaps as a nurse, or doctor?”

Corinne’s words pushed Don’s imagination into gear. All at once, he saw her wearing an open lab smock over a tiny, revealing skirt, gartered stockings and glossy white spike heels. The judge costume had simply vanished; he didn’t even remember seeing it anymore. His body shuddered, straining for release. It was all he could do to moan, “Yes, Corinne ma’am” again.

“Tell me about it, Don. Tell me what you see.”

Don gasped out a description of the vision he now saw. The words emerged with no conscious thought behind them; he was no longer a rational creature, but only obedient, eager flesh.

“My, my, Don dear,” the redheaded researcher chuckled. “I had no idea. You’re a naughty boy, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Corinne ma’am.” The young man shivered with lust as the images evoked by his stepmother’s suggestion slithered through his mind. “N-n-nuhhh. . . . .”

“Poor boy,” Corinne murmured. “You want me, don’t you? You need to have me. You need to have me now.

“Now,” gasped Don. “Yes, Corinne ma’am. Now. Please . . . !”

The redhead laughed. “My. So eager.” Eyeing her youthful subject’s well-muscled frame, she pursed her lips as if in thought. “I tell you what, Don dear. Why don’t you pick me up and carry me into your room? If you pick me up and carry me into your room, Don dear, and put me on your bed, you can have me. You want that more than anything, Don dear, don’t you?”

“Yes, Corinne ma’am.”

“Then do it, Don dear. Do it now. Pick me up and carry me into your room, and put me on your bed. Now, Don, dear.”

Don Talbott stood up, crossed to Corinne’s seat and bent over her, sliding one arm behind her back and the other behind her knees. He lifted her, biceps bulging as he did. Then, with a dreamy expression on his face, he began to walk.

Corinne Dayner felt her breathing quicken. She grinned briefly, remembering an old saying attributed to Henry Kissinger that power was the ultimate aphrodisiac. It certainly was for her.

Her brainwashed beast of burden bore her out of the living room and down the hall to his room. There was a momentary hangup there: the door was shut, and with her in his arms, Don couldn’t get it open. Maybe I should have him kick it down, the redhead thought mischievously—but no. There was a simpler way. Shifting slightly in Don’s arms, she reached out and turned the knob herself. The latch clicked and the door swung slightly inward. Don shouldered it the rest of the way open and carried his red-tressed rider through. He lumbered over to his bed and carefully deposited her on it.

Corinne looked up, smiling. She extended one leg in a teasing manner, letting the glossy pump on her foot dangle. “Now, Don,” she purred, “why don’t we help each other out of these inconvenient clothes we’re wearing?”

Don mumbled, “Yes, Corinne ma’am,” and bent down. Corrine’s loose shoe was the first item to be pulled off and tossed aside; then it was its mate’s turn. Next, he tugged at his stepmom’s sheer stockings.

When those were off, Corinne sat up, balancing herself on her knees atop the blankets, and wriggled her tight top off over her head, tossing it aside, then motioned Don to come closer. He obeyed, and her long-nailed fingers played over the buttons of his shirt, loosing them one by one. When they were all undone, she gestured for her stupefied stud to slip out of the garment; again, he did as he was told. There was no thought involved: his body knew what its mistress’s touch and gestures meant, and followed their direction.

The redhead took Don’s hands in hers and cupped them around her bosom. “This bra is so tight, Don dear,” she murmured. “Take it off me, please. Now, please.”

Don fumbled with the lacy covering, finally finding its fastener and undoing it. As the fabric fell away, exposing Corinne’s heavy breasts, the youth’s eyes widened and his breathing sped up. So did Corinne’s; it always turned her on to see a man respond to her that way, especially one under her control, who would do anything she commanded.

The rest of their clothing came off in short order, except for the pendant around Corinne’s neck, which she tucked away in the cleft of her bosom. When both of them were nude, Corinne addressed Don in a gently commanding tone.

“Take me, Don,” she ordered. “You want to take me, you need to take me. Screw my brains out, Don dear. Nothing else matters. Do it. Do me, Don dear!”

As if from far, far away, Don heard his own voice: “Nothing else matters. Yes, Corinne ma’am.” A wave of lust crashed over him and he lunged for the lush nude female in front of him, pressing her back down onto the bed. Fireworks sizzled through his body as his flesh met hers. He entered her and began to buck, urged onward by the rhythm of her hips now clamped around him and her skillful hands playing his spine as though it were a keyboard. He rushed toward climax, gasping, “Yes, Corinne ma’am! Yes, Corinne ma’am! Yes, Corinne ma’am!”

Finally, the redhead beneath him shuddered, her strong legs tightening their grip on him. She arched under him, grinding against him. “Now! Yes! Now, Don dear, now!

His body understood, and he came, shouting, “Yes! Corinne! Ma’am! YESSSS!” Pressed beneath him, Corinne spasmed ecstatically as well, crying out his name and clawing at his back with her long, glossy nails. The world went white for Don, then faded to darkness as his muscles relaxed completely.

Corinne Dayner smiled as she slid carefully out from under the limp, helpless form of her stupefied stepson.

He had responded perfectly. As soon as he’d drunk his tea, he’d been hers: all she’d had to do was lead him gently into trance and guide him deeper and deeper until the last of his defenses fell away.

It helped that apparently he’d already been attracted to her. She’d suspected he was. Oh, without her—encouragement—he almost certainly wouldn’t have done anything about it. After all, she was married to his father! But with her drug bubbling through his brain, his usual inhibitions hadn’t been a factor.

She giggled. She’d learned from her work with Tom that men could be made even more . . . cooperative . . . if one took advantage of their secret fantasies. Once Don was under, it had been easy to get him to reveal his own—and what healthy male his age didn’t have them?—and the suggestions she’d planted had made those imaginings feverishly real for him. Under her control, he had been for a while her eager stallion and nothing else.

But it was time to bring things to a close, at least for now.

The naked redhead moved, covering Don’s body with her own and pinning his shoulders to the bed with her hands. She looked down at him, smiling, and murmured, “Don, dear, listen to me. I know you’re very sleepy now, so relaxed and sleepy now, but listen to me. It’s important.”

Don’s eyes opened and looked vaguely up at her. “Yes, Corinne ma’am.”

“Good boy,” Corinne purred. “In a little while you can sleep, don dear, but right now you need to pay attention.”

“Yes, Corinne ma’am.”

“I know you were very surprised when you saw me with your father, Don dear,” Corinne continued. “And very upset, later, when you found out what was really going on. And I don’t want you to be upset. You understand that, don’t you, Don dear? You’re my darling stepson, after all, and I don’t want you to be upset.”

“Understand,” the youth beneath her mumbled. “You don’t want me . . . to be upset.”

“That’s right, Don dear.” Corinne bent down, brushing Don’s forehead lightly with her lips. “So what’s going to happen is this. In a little while, when I tell you to do so, you’re going to get into your pajamas, go to bed and go right to sleep. A nice, peaceful sleep, until morning. And when you wake up, you won’t remember any of this.

“You won’t remember seeing me with your father. You won’t remember our conversation afterward, or having tea with me, or anything that happened between us.” Corinne drew a breath. “All you’ll remember is coming home, going to your room, and having a perfectly ordinary evening.”

After a moment, Don nodded. “Yes, Corinne ma’am. A perfectly . . . ordinary evening.”

Corinne Dayner smiled. Don was absorbing her instructions perfectly. Perhaps, like his father, he had a buried submissive streak which her drug and suggestions had brought to the surface.

It didn’t matter, as long as he did as she wished. And—she laughed softly—this evening had certainly proved he would do that. But now it was time to finish things.

“Don,” she said, “listen carefully. I’m going to give you some instructions now, instructions you will not remember when you wake up in the morning, but that you will obey, even though you do not remember.”

“Yes, Corinne ma’am.”

“Good boy,” the redhead answered back. “Now Don dear, this is very important. From now on, when I offer you tea, you will accept it. You will accept my offer, and drink the tea, because it’s friendly to do so, and because you want me to be your friend, because after all we’re family.”

“After all . . . we’re family. Yes, Corinne ma’am.”

“That’s right.” Corinne smiled. That suggestion would be helpful in getting him to take his medicine again, when the time came. “And from now on, Don dear, when you hear me call you ‘Don dear,’ you will relax and feel peaceful and cooperative. Do you understand, Don dear?”

“Yes, Corinne ma’am,” Don sighed. “Peaceful. Cooperative.”

Corinne pulled out her pendant once more and started it swinging gently, suspended between two fingers. Don’s eyes immediately began tracking its motion. “And if I show you this, and tell you to watch it and to listen only to my voice, as you’re doing now, Don dear, you’ll relax even more, Don dear, you’ll relax even if you haven’t had any tea, relax, and keep listening to my voice and watching the pendant, Don dear, until you’re completely relaxed, completely relaxed and completely open to my voice, Don dear, the way you are now, so that you’ll do whatever my voice tells you to do, Don dear, think only what it tells you to think, Don dear, remember only what it tells you to remember, Don dear. . . .” Her voice was a soothing drone, washing over the brain of Don Talbott, over and over, as she led him around and around through several repetitions of her words. When she finished, his mouth was hanging loosely open, a thin trail of drool hanging from one corner, and his arms were resting limply at his sides.

He was ready, she decided.

“Stand up, Don dear,” instructed Corinne. Her stunned stepson obeyed mechanically, coming to a loose version of parade rest.

“Now Don dear,” the redheaded researcher went on, “it’s time for you to get into your pajamas, Don, time for you to get into your pajamas and go to bed, Don. Do you remember what you’ll do after that?”

“Yes, Corinne ma’am.” Don’s voice was distant, dreamy. “I’m going to go . . . right to sleep. A nice . . . peaceful sleep . . . until morning.”

“And when you wake up in the morning, relaxed, refreshed, what will you remember about this evening, Don dear?”

“Coming home. Going to . . . my room. Having a perfectly . . . ordinary evening.”

“Good boy, Don dear.” Corinne led him once more through the rest of his programming, and then, satisfied, nodded her head. “It’s time, Don dear. It’s time for you get into your pajamas and go to bed, Don dear.”

Don did. Moving like a sleepwalker, he lifted the pillow under which he’d stashed his nightclothes. As Corinne watched, he put them on, completely oblivious to her presence. Then, as more of her commands unspooled inside his brain, he climbed into bed, pulled the rumpled covers over himself, and closed his eyes. Within seconds, his breathing was deep and regular. He was asleep.

Corinne smiled. Don was hers now, just like his father.

Don Talbott blinked awake. For just a moment, an image filled his mind, of large, swaying breasts over him and a sultry voice saying . . . but it was gone. He sighed regretfully. That must have been a hell of a dream, he thought. Why can’t I ever remember the really good ones?

Well, there was no point in thinking about it any more. It was just a dream, after all.

He was very hungry this morning. He dressed quickly and headed for the kitchen, where he found his stepmother already up. He braced himself.

“Good morning, Don dear,” Corinne said, smiling. “Did you sleep well?”

Don relaxed. What had he been worried about? It was just Corinne. “Yes, thank you,” he responded. It barely registered that she had called him “dear.” It just seemed natural.

There was a teapot on the stove. Don blinked. Wasn’t there something he should remember? Something about tea?

Corinne saw where he was looking and asked, “Would you like some tea, Don dear?” Without waiting for his answer, she poured some into a china cup and handed it to him. He took it, and sipped appreciatively. He didn’t usually take it black, but it went down easily this morning. “Thank you,” he said after his first sip.

He felt really relaxed. He could feel the hot beverage spreading its warmth inside him. He took a seat at the round kitchen table and finished his drink under the cool gaze of his stepmother.

Corinne sat down too, and addressed him.

“I’m glad you had a good night’s sleep, Don dear,” she said. “It’s always best to start the day fresh.” She paused. “And I’d like us to start fresh, too, Don dear. I’m aware that we haven’t always gotten along as well as we should. I’d like to change that.” As she spoke, she pulled a small pendant out from where it had apparently been nestled in her cleavage, under her shirt, and began swinging it idly, back and forth, catching the light.

Don followed the motion with his eyes. After a few seconds, he realized Corinne had said something he hadn’t caught. “Excuse me?” he murmured. “What did you say?”

A smiling Corinne tucked the pendant away again and repeated what she’d said about wanting the two of them to get along better.

Don found himself nodding and agreeing. Of course he wanted them to get along better. After all, they were family. “I’ll do everything I can,” he assured his stepmother.

“Yes, I’m sure you will,” purred the redhead in return. “And so will I.”

Don Talbott loved coming home these days.

Things were so much better now than they had been, now that he hand his stepmother Corinne were getting on together. He looked forward to seeing her, to sitting down and talking things over with her, over tea. . . .