The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

In complete horror, Adelle screamed. She shrieked as loudly as her lungs could manage.

At the same time, the terrified maid dropped her tray, backing up and colliding with the chair behind her. The corpse of Charles Senior grimaced, as if shouting in death.

Adelle’s nerves failed her. Even through she’d lived through the war, she’d never seen a dead body before. In shock, she turned and bolted from the room.

Panicking, the beautiful young maid raced all the way to the top of the Grand Staircase, then screamed again. “HELP!” she cried. “MURDER! HELP! HELP, HELP!!!”

The sound of alarmed footfalls began to approach.

“What is it?” William was the very first to reach the distraught maid. He appeared from a side corridor, dressed in an evening jacket and slippers, with a pipe and a book in his hands. The eldest Oakwater son looked over Adelle, shock in his eyes.

“Monsieur Oakwater!” Adelle babbled, beside herself. “I found him… I found him…” Unable to speak, she merely pointed towards the suite.

More people appeared on the landing to the staircase or from the hallway: Samuel, Woolsby, the footmen, Mrs. Clatchet, Charlie Junior, Thérèse, José, Eleanor Vesper. Harried questions crisscrossed the air.

“He’s dead!” wailed Adelle. “Monsieur Oakwater is dead! Look!”

The whole party pushed their way into the suite. Poor Charles Senior remained where Adelle had left him, frozen and locked in his death-pose.

“Oh… my God,” William said, thunderstruck.

There was a horrified silence as the group gazed down at the dead Oakwater patriarch.

“Oh, Charles!” Eleanor cried, dropping next to Charles Senior. She grasped one of the slain man’s hands, only to recoil in horror. “Oh, Lord! He’s so cold!”

Mrs. Clatchet, as if she couldn’t believe it, stooped forward and gingerly laid her fingers on top of Charles Senior’s other hand. “Oh, he is indeed!” she exclaimed, aghast, then shuddered.

“You killed him!” Charlie Junior suddenly said, stabbing an accusing finger at Adelle. “You must have!”

“Non!” breathed the beautiful young maid. “Non, I came to serve his brandy! See?” She gestured to the tray, the shards of glass, and the puddle of alcohol on the floor, right beside the fallen lamp.

“But there was no-one else here,” Charlie Junior accused.

Adelle’s mind jolted back into rational thought. “Not true!” she protested. “I saw someone! In there!” She pointed to the opposite room, the same room where she’d spotted the dark figure lurking.

William approached the adjoining room, then cautiously poked his head inside. “There’s no-one here,” he said warily. “This is Papa’s bedroom, but there’s no-one in here.” He paused. “Hey! The mirror’s been broken!”

“Mon Dieu,” Adelle moaned. “Then the murderer is hiding in the closet?”

William looked grim. “José,” he ordered, “come with me. We’ll search.”

Although José looked extremely unhappy about this, the two men disappeared into the bedroom. Everyone waited in suspense as they prodded about.

After what felt like hours, William and his servant re-appeared. “Empty,” the eldest Oakwater son sighed grimly. To José, he asked, “Find anything? Anything unusual?”

“One of Mr. Charles Senior’s drawers was removed and on the floor, señor,” José reported. He held up a handful of ladies’ undergarments: two brassieres, a pair of black stockings, at least two panties. “There are many more of these—“

Eleanor went bright red.

“Give me those,” snarled William, furious and embarrassed. He snatched the items, thrust it into his pocket, then slapped his poor manservant.

Adelle flinched. It was rumored that Charles Senior kept the unmentionables of his lovers. She found that she couldn’t bear to look at Eleanor.

“There’s no-one in the bedroom,” William half-growled, half-announced. “Hell, the carpet in here isn’t even disturbed.”

“But… But I saw someone,” Adelle insisted.

“Is it… is it possible that Mr. Oakwater expired naturally?” Mrs. Clatchet asked anxiously.

Adelle desperately wanted to believe that.

“No, look about,” Woolsby said heavily. “The furniture was disturbed. There was a struggle.”

“Oh Jesus,” groaned Samuel, looking sick. He swayed slightly on his feet, and his black cigarette tumbled from his fingers. The scent of pine and mint wafted through the suite. “Someone overpowered the Old Man, then threw him to the floor.”

“Look!” Charlie Junior cried. He stepped over the body, then knelt to reach under a chair. When he stood, all could see he was holding a plain white cloth; a cleaning rag.

“Its wet,” the youngest Oakwater said, then sniffed the cloth gingerly. “Yeech,” he gagged. “Poisoned!”

“How did you know that was there?” accused William.

“I didn’t!” Charlie Junior protested. “I just saw it!”

“Moi aussi,” seconded Thérèse.

“And me,” said Eleanor.

William huffed, but said no more.

“Jesus,” Samuel moaned. “The killer grabbed Papa from behind, pressed the rag against his face, then wrestled with him as he died. That’s sick, man.”

The middle Oakwater brother wobbled, then staggered backwards. He collided with a couch, and sat down with a heavy thud.

“We must call the police,” Woolsby said heavily.

“No!” protested William. “We can’t—“

“Sir,” the old butler countered, “the master of this house has been murdered. We are legally and ethically required to telephone the police immediately.”

William glanced at all the other people in the room. “Yes, but… This family is quite prominent, you know…”

Woolsby said nothing, but his stern face spoke volumes.

“Ah, very well,” William said crossly. “Call the damned police.”

“I’ll handle it,” Thérèse murmured. Her cream-colored legs flashed as she slipped from the room.

“What did you see?” Samuel, still on the couch, snapped at Adelle. The middle Oakwater brother was angry.

“I…” Adelle opened and closed her mouth. “I saw…”

She described everything she’d seen. She spent the most time when talking about the shadowy figure.

“Well, that could have been anyone,” Charlie Junior grumbled, disgusted. “I still say, Adelle, you must have done it.”

“Wait a minute,” said William, looking thoughtful. He turned to Eleanor. “You can do hypnotism, right?”

The female doctor rose from Charles Senior’s corpse; she looked wary. “Well… yes.”

William nodded. “Look, the police are coming, right? They’ll want to turn the house upside down, poke and prod everywhere. Papa wouldn’t ever want that.” He nervously glanced back into the bedroom.

The eldest Oakwater brother moved to stand beside Adelle. “Hypnosis can enhance a person’s memory, right? I’m certain I read that. So what if we hypnotize Adelle and look into her memory? We could learn who the killer is. That would make everything a lot simpler, wouldn’t it?”

Hypnotize me? Adelle thought in alarm. For reasons she didn’t understand, she felt dread.

Eleanor didn’t seem keen on this plan, either. “Even if Adelle here could identify the murderer,” she said reluctantly, “the police won’t just accept that as evidence.”

“So we do this in two steps,” William said impatiently. “First, Eleanor hypnotizes Adelle. Then, after Adelle tells us who the killer is, we seize and search them. The murderer will have to have evidence on their being, right? Traces of the poison, maybe scratches on their hands if Papa clawed at them, things of that nature.”

Eleanor looked uncomfortable. She glanced worriedly at Samuel.

“Whaddya looking at him for?” William demanded. “Look, if the police arrive and we can’t tell them who Papa’s killer was, we’ll all be suspects.” He paused for emphasis. “Anyone here looking forward to the Albany PD turning your life upside-down?”

The oldest Oakwater insisted that the fewest possible people be present for Adelle’s hypnosis session. “We don’t want the killer to be tipped off,” he insisted. “So only Adelle, Eleanor, and me will go into the study to do this.”

“Why you?” Samuel wanted to know, immediately suspicious. “How do we know—“

“I’m the oldest, Sam,” retorted William. “I’m the executor of Papa’s will, so the house is now under me, get it?” He paused. “Hey, where’s Wendy? Does she know what’s happened?”

Everyone glanced about.

“I suppose Ms. Viebeck retired to a spare bedroom for an early lie-in,” Woolsby said, surprised. “She did find today to be quite… vexing.”

“Rouse her,” ordered William. “Tell her what’s happened. But don’t tell her what we’re doing in the study.”

Samuel still wasn’t satisfied. “I still don’t think that you—“

“Look,” the older brother almost exploded. “I’ve never before met Eleanor, and she’s never met me. We have no reason to work together. So she and I will keep one another honest.” He folded his arms. “That’s how this is gonna be.”

Thérèse appeared. “The police, they will be here in ten minutes,” she announced hesitantly. “They say to not touch… ah, Monsieur Oakwater Senior.”

“Ten minutes, Jesus Christ,” William muttered. He nodded at Adelle and Eleanor. “Let’s get busy.”

The study was in the north wing of the house. Adelle had never particularly liked it, mostly because once a week, she had to climb a wobbly stepladder to dust that enormous stuffed moose head which loomed over the brick fireplace. The little room was stuffy, claustrophobic, and always smelled musty. Adelle was certain she hated it even more than the poor moose did. Now, with the knowledge that she was about to be hypnotized here, the young maid loathed the study a tiny bit more.

Opposite the moose, was a framed black-and-white photograph: “Stockwood Manor Construction Begins: May 4th, 1893.” Mr. Oakwater Senior had loved his family’s history. Now finding herself glumly staring at that picture, Adelle could spot the place where the study would one day be.

“You can do this in ten minutes or less?” William growled to Eleanor, closing and locking the door.

The female doctor, still looking shocked over Charles Senior’s death, composed herself. She nodded. “Adelle, dear, sit,” she said, gesturing to an easy chair.

“Please, Madame,” the worried Adelle found herself saying. “I… I don’t—“

“Do it,” threatened William. “Or we’ll simply tell the police that you were the last person to see Papa.”

Oh, merde, Adelle thought in despair. William was determined to have his way. So the poor French maid swallowed, then lowered herself into the chair.

“Look at me, dear,” Eleanor said firmly, leaning over Adelle. Was it the young woman’s imagination, or did the lady doctor seem slightly nervous? “Look into my eyes, please. You will relax. You will breathe. You will think inwardly…”

Her voice began to slither through the air…

“That’s it?” William said, surprised. “She’s hypnotized?”

Adelle felt wonderful. Her eyes were closed, and she was unbelievably relaxed. Somehow, while Eleanor was speaking to her, all of the beautiful young maid’s stresses melted away. Her muscles turned into jelly, and soon she was unaware of her body entirely. Her thoughts, oddly passive, seemed a happy echo of whatever Eleanor told her. She wanted only to relax even deeper, and obey.

“She’s hypnotized,” Eleanor confirmed, sounding tired. “Do you have a cigarette?”

“The hypnotism happened so fast,” said William, impressed. “Adelle here seemed to be listening to you, and then… wow.”

“She’s an exceptional subject,” agreed the female hypnotist. Adelle heard the striking of a match, then a faint burning as flame met cigarette paper. “She goes so deeply that her subconscious mind can’t tell the difference between her own will and my commands. She’s mine.”

“Okay, okay,” William grumbled. “The clock’s ticking. Get on with it.”

“Adelle, honey,” said Eleanor, her voice now coated in honey, “I want you to think back… Even now, your mind is going back in time. When I snap my fingers, you will find yourself in the Master Bedroom Suite, shortly after you entered tonight. Ready?”

She clicked her fingers, once.

Adelle was standing in the dim greeting-room of Charles Senior’s suite. The tray with the brandy was in her hands. She could see the shadows of the chairs, the bookshelves, the portrait of the old-fashioned man, the archways to rooms beyond. The room stank of stale bread.

“What do you see? Tell me,” commanded Eleanor.

In a dull, flat voice, Adelle found herself describing the room.

“Good,” Eleanor complimented. “Now, allow time to advance, just a little. In a moment, you will notice the person you saw in darkness, earlier tonight. Freeze the picture in that moment. Tell me what you see.”

Adelle squinted about, wondering where Mr. Oakwater might be. She heard… rustling. The sound of shoes on a carpet. Another person breathing.

“’ello?” she called out within the memory. “I have your evening brandy, sir…!”

And then, a black shape appeared in the archway to the bedroom. Adelle was startled.

Time stopped.

“I see the killer,” the hypnotized maid murmured.

“Concentrate,” urged Eleanor. “Study that person. Do you know who it is?”

Adelle peered harder. The shape was standing within a shadow, and there was no light behind them to help with illumination. The young maid wasn’t certain where the outlines of the murderer’s shoulders or head or arms were. She was scrutinizing a blob of darkness, a person crouched forward a little bit.

“I have met this person,” Adelle heard her own voice saying. “They were in the bedroom when they heard me open the suite door. Now they are trying to hide.”

“Very interesting,” said Eleanor, not sounding interested at all. “But who is it, Adelle? Concentrate. Who is it?”

Adelle frowned. The murderer had a trim body, and was light on their feet. They crept away in graceful footsteps, very mindful of how much noise they were making. For someone who had just killed another human being, they were remarkably focused and calm. Their breathing was careful and even.

“Well?” Eleanor demanded, impatient.

“I…” Adelle said in a drugged voice. “I can’t tell yet.”

Far away in the house, the front doorbell rang, twice.

“Shit,” grumbled William. “The police are here. We’re out of time.”

“If I can have another five minutes, we can enhance Adelle’s memory,” said Eleanor. “I think she—“

“No,” William objected. “No, this is taking too long. We have to be smarter.”

Irritated, the female doctor said, “So, what do you want to do, eh?”

“Forget this memory stuff,” replied William. “Adelle is under very deep hypnosis, right? So hypnotize her to believe that she’s Papa’s killer.”

“What?” Eleanor said, shocked.

“Convince Adelle that she did it,” the oldest Oakwater demanded. “And now she’s having a crisis of guilt. Make her confess to the crime when the police interview her.”

“That’s monstrous,” exclaimed Eleanor, appalled. “This poor girl will get the chair!”

William sounded firm. “Her? A sweet girl like her? Naw, they’ll deport her. Or just lock her up for ten years. Who knows? Who cares?” His tone sharpened. “But I can’t have the Albany Police investigating this family, you get me? It can’t be allowed to happen. So we throw them Adelle.”

“I…” the female doctor protested. “Wait a minute, here, I can’t…”

“Papa wasn’t the only member of the family who employed private eyes, Eleanor,” William said dangerously. “I thought it was odd when he started spending so much more time with you. Your research was never about rehabilitating prisoners, was it? No, it was about brainwashing innocent young girls, like our hypnotized friend here.”

Eleanor protested, “Wait a minute—”

“Papa funded your research so you could give him a houseful of mesmerized and willing bimbos,” accused William. ”And you were planning on getting rich by founding a prostitution ring with hypnotized actresses and models, all unaware that they were under your control.”

“That’s a lie!” Eleanor said savagely.

“No?” retorted William. His voice was cold. “My man tailed you for less than a month, Eleanor, and look at what he uncovered. You think you’ll escaped unscathed when the Albany Homicide Squad starts poking about in your life?” He made a snorting noise. “You have too many skeletons in your closet, my dear. The police are gonna make you Suspect Number One in no time flat. Unless we close down their investigation, now.”

Eleanor shifted her weight. She was thinking, fast.

“Perhaps we can make a trade, William?” she purred, her voice becoming sultry. “Adelle here is a sumptuous lover. I can have her—“

“I don’t want sex with the little minx!” William almost shouted. “All I want is to protect his family.” He grunted. “Its Adelle or you, baby. Choose.”

There was a pause.

The hypnotized Adelle drifted within her trance, hearing everything, caring about nothing. Her trance was so powerful, that everything her ears detected seemed completely ordinary. She felt nothing but happiness and surrender.

Adelle heard Eleanor exhale, then stab her cigarette into the ashtray with a quiet pfft.

“Adelle, darling,” the hypnotist said gaily, taking control of the maid’s thoughts. “Listen carefully. You will respond to my commands, and believe everything that I tell you to believe. Now…”

Five minutes later, Adelle found herself obediently following William and Eleanor out into the Great Hall. The maid felt slightly light-headed, as if she’d recently woken from a bizarre, powerful dream, a dream that she couldn’t recall.

What had just happened? The confused Adelle wasn’t certain. Everything this evening had been a blur. She felt uneasy, out-of-sorts.

In the Great Hall were a small crowd of people: Samuel, Charlie Junior, Hilda, with Baby Chuckie in her arms. For once, Baby Chuckie was dead asleep, and drooling onto his mother’s coat. Wendy was off to the side, wrapped in a fuzzy white bathrobe and quietly weeping into a handkerchief. Woolsby and most of the servant’s staff were there, too. Thérèse gave Adelle a brief, concerned glance.

Everyone was standing about in a circle, facing inward. At the center of the gathering, Adelle could see two uniformed police officers, gawking at the Great Hall in wonder. The larger of the two men, a bulky young fellow with a babylike face and thick moustache, was holding a notebook. “Er…” he said, “now let me get this straight: one Charles Willum Oakwater—“

“Charles Wilson Oakwater,” Woolsby corrected him, annoyed.

“…Charles Wilson was found murdered, upstairs? How long ago?”

The denizens of Stockwood Manor muttered amongst themselves. “Oh, perhaps twenty minutes ago?” Mrs. Clatchet supplied. “It was poison, you can be sure of that.”

“We’ll ask the questions and make the determinations, thanks, ma’am,” frowned the officer. “Now, can someone show me the crime scene?”

“Wowee,” the baby-faced officer exclaimed when he laid eyes on Charles Senior. “He’s dead, alright.”

Mostly everyone had returned to the Master Suite. The police had told Woolsby that they wanted to interview people with memories still fresh, so anyone who had seen the deceased Mr. Oakwater were instructed to stay close.

The cop’s partner scowled, then glanced at the shocked guests and servants of Stockwood. “Geez, Hanson, you wanna be more respectful?”

“Right, right,” Officer Hanson agreed, kneeling next to Charles Senior’s body. “Make a note of the time, Fred: 8:03 PM.”

The young officer leaned close to the victim’s grimacing face and sniffed. “Poison traces,” he announced. “Don’t know which kind, though.”

“You heard Dispatch,” the other policeman said. “Homicide is assigning Old Man Carpenter. So don’t—“

“I can inspect the body, can’t I?” Hanson frowned, straightening. “You know, if I wrap up this case, I could be on Homicide myself by this time next year.” He grinned. “Sounds nice, huh?”

Adelle found her gaze resting down on the dead Charles Senior. In life, he’d been a fairly horrible person, she knew, but…

A ravenous, gnawing guilt began to consume the beautiful young maid. She could remember it all so clearly: The moment she’d slipped behind Charles Senior. The instant she’d struck, clamping the sickly-sweet rag against Charles Senior’s face. The muffled cries of panic he emitted as he struggled. The way he thrashed about; the ruthless determination she felt as she clung to him. The cold rage that washed over her as Charles’ body flailed, then stiffened, then froze. The sadistic triumph she felt once the old man was gone. She remembered it all.

A tortured sob escaped Adelle’s mouth. Everyone turned to look at her.

“I’m so sorry!” the young maid wailed to the dead Charles Senior. Something had clicked in her mind, and she was completely unable to restrain her emotions. “Oh, mon Dieu, please forgive me! I… I never meant…!”

Officer Hanson straightened, his eyes narrowing. “What’s this, ma’am?”

Overwhelmed, Adelle felt tears of shame spilling down her cheeks. “When I brought him his brandy, he was standing right there,” she babbled. “Mon Dieu! I found a cleaning closet, prepared a rag in cleaning solution, and…”

She let that sentence trail off.

A horrified silence descended upon all the Stockwood people. Woolsby, in particular, looked as though he’d seen the devil. And Thérèse stepped away from Adelle, both hands covering her aghast mouth.

“I’m so sorry,” wept Adelle. “I’m so sorry!” Her guilt was crushing.

“Well,” Hanson said grimly.

The other police officer stepped forward, firmly grabbing Adelle by the arm. The young maid didn’t protest as her arms were pulled behind her. The handcuffs were cold and bit into her wrists.

The jail in the basement of the Albany County Police Department was little more than three walls made from heavy cinder blocks and then black iron bars to enclose detention area. There were three cells. The other prisoners—two drunkards and a petty mugger—watched with fascination as Adelle was thrust into the empty woman’s cell. She was still in her tiny maid’s uniform.

The desk clerk stared at Adelle’s exposed chest, arms, and long legs. “Is this some kind a joke?” he finally asked Officer Hanson.

“Murderess,” Hanson said somberly.

“Oh,” the clerk responded, and his expression darkened.

The two men slid the jail door shut, and it clicked as it locked in place. Hanson went up the stairs; the clerk returned to the solitaire game at his desk.

Not knowing what else to do, Adelle sat on the wooden bench, staring at the cement floor. Her mind reeled. She could still remember killing Charles Senior. The memory was fresh in her mind…

Adelle frowned, confused. Actually, she couldn’t recall anything prior to the murder. Or after. If she hadn’t seen the body herself, she’d assume that the whole affair was a vivid nightmare.

And then, for no reason Adelle could place, she found herself recalling a voice… Eleanor’s voice…

…you will follow and obey… Eleanor had said. The words had felt beautiful and luring and irresistible.

Irresistible. You cannot resist… Eleanor’s voice murmured.

With a jolt, Adelle’s mind snapped out of its funk. Like a house of glass, the hypnotic illusion that had clouded her will was shattered. She remembered everything.

The beautiful young woman cried out in horror. She clearly recalled how she’d fallen under Eleanor’s spell the first time, in the guest suite, and how she’d willingly given her body to the female doctor and Samuel Oakwater. She remembered every moment of the sex, especially how she completely believed that she was madly in love with the two lecherous fiends. And then, she remembered Eleanor hypnotizing her the second time and rigging her memories to believe that she’d killed Charles Senior…

A horrible despair gripped Adelle. She leapt to the bars of her cells, shaking them as hard as she could. “I’m innocent, I’m innocent!” she screamed. “I was hypnotized! I didn’t kill anyone!!!”

The desk clerk gave Adelle a hard look. “Save it, toots,” he said.

Immediately, the beautiful young Frenchwoman knew that absolutely nothing she could say would free her. Who would believe her?

Her spirit crushed, Adelle staggered backwards. She heavily dropped onto the bench, then pressed her face into her hands. And she sobbed.