The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I should have my head examined. I really should. Not in the ‘oh my gosh, I think I might have a concussion, where’s the nearest hospital’ kind of way, though even that’s not out of the question. I mean in the ‘girl what the HELL were you thinking’ kind of way. Some things are worth any sacrifice, like true love, or world peace, or a really good Black Angus dog with the works. Some things, however, are just not worth the effort, no matter how tempting it might sound. And this was definitely the latter.

I came to, finding myself tied up naked (not a big surprise) on a hospital gurney in what appeared to be a hospital room (that one WAS a surprise) with a deep ache in the back of my head (which, unfortunately, was entirely all too familiar) with a sizeable lump. The room was well lit, but there wasn’t much to see from my position aside from the walls and the ceiling. I wondered how long I would be kept waiting before my captor showed up to do the usual song and dance. I hoped it was soon; I had an itch on the middle of my right shoulder that was driving me crazy. And just when I thought I could stand it no longer, I heard the sound of a door opening behind me.

“Ms. Sanford,” a familiar, deeply cultured masculine voice spoke, still currently out of view, but moving steadily closer, “we meet again. I did warn you what would happen if our paths crossed again after Pittsburg, didn’t I?”

Oh shit. I was deeply, seriously, extensively up-the-ass-with-a-red-hot-poker fucked. I managed to keep a slightly bored, disinterested look on my face as Donald Quincy Finkerbeiner stepped into view. He still looked the same as the last time we’d met, perhaps a little leaner, a bit more gaunt around the eyes... but with the same amount of swagger in his walk and a look of unshakable superiority on his face. I did note with interest that he had taken to wearing black leather gloves. Not sure what he had in store for me, I decided to open with something mildly benign.

“Hey, Quince... looking good. Nice suit. Say...I don’t suppose you could release the bindings around my arms? I’ve got an itch on my back near my shoulder blades that is just killing me—”

“SHUT THE HELL UP YOU STUPID FUCKING BITCH!” he yelled, stunning me with the sheer force of his rage. Sheesh. He’s certainly pissed. And all I did was leave him hanging out from a window while I walked away with the bag of jewels he’d stolen from my client. Okay, granted it WAS a window on the 20th floor... and he was in his underwear... and I suppose it had to have been extremely humiliating when the police and fire department finally rescued him from the side of the building. Still, it’s not as if I ruined his life the way he nearly ruined old Mrs. Russell!

“You’re still holding a grudge about Pittsburg?” I replied, trying to sound incredulous, while mentally I was racking my brain to try and think of a way out of this mess. This guy was truly unpredictable. He was just as liable to humiliate me by tossing me naked into Times Square as he was to putting a bullet in my brain. “You know that wasn’t personal, right? I was just trying to recover my client’s stolen property, that’s all. I wasn’t really leading you on when I conned—convinced you to bring me back to your room that night!”

“Save your pretty words, Ms. Sanford,” he replied crisply, his temper once again under control. “They won’t work this time. You’re NOT talking your way out of this one. And after all the trouble I went through to lure you here, I certainly won’t be letting you go so easily.”

His words triggered the rest of my fuzzy memory of the night’s events, and suddenly all the pieces fell into place. “Ahhhh, shit,” I murmured softly, shaking my head as the memories came flooding back to me once more...

“Miss Sanford?” a voice asked, accompanied by a knock. “Miss Anastacia Sanford?”

I rolled my eyes, biting my tongue to keep from snapping at what could conceivably be a new client. “It’s Stacy, actually. Stacy Sanford. Please, come in and have a seat.” A moment later, the door opened, and a young man and woman walked in, both dressed to the nines, clearly out of place my neck of the woods, and glancing around at my office decor as if they were afraid to touch anything.

I gave them both the once-over as they made their way over to the couch, then, frowning, decided to sit on the mismatched wooden chairs across from my desk instead. The guy was fairly young, in his mid-twenties, I’d have guessed. Sandy haired, clean shaven, with piercing blue-green eyes. Something about those eyes set my nerves on edge, and it took me a second or two to figure it out. His fingers twittered nervously as he sat down, and I noted the fine finish of his fingernails, recently manicured. He obviously came from money.

The girl, in contrast, seemed actually somewhat plain in comparison. And perhaps my most recent adventure has colored my personal preferences a bit—a month ago, my appraisal of any woman entering my office would have been professionally platonic—but I couldn’t help but think that the guy was way out of this gal’s league. True, she had a pretty face, a nice set of curves, and a pair of very nice breasts, smallish B cups, but perfect for her frame. She was no hag, and certainly if she’d offered to go home with me, I wouldn’t have turned her down. And yet, seeing the two of them together, I couldn’t help but sense they were something of a mismatched pair.

“Miss Sanford,” the man began, looking me deep in the eyes, “I’m Maximillian Andrews, the 3rd. My wife Helen and I need your help. You come highly recommended from... ah, certain friends of ours, and we were hoping you could handle a small job for us.”

“Uh huh,” I said slowly, tilting my fedora back a bit, making my appraisal a bit more obvious now. “And just what would this... ‘small job’ of yours entail?”

“Well, it’s, actually quite embarrassing, really,” the man said, blushing slightly. “My fiancé here, she was the victim of a rather unscrupulous man, a charlatan, a swindler of the basest regard, a hood—”

“A flim-flam artist, yes, I get it,” I replied, cutting in before Mr. Thesaurus here really hit his stride. “Perhaps it would help if you were a little bit more... specific? What did he take?”

“He took my wedding ring,” the girl said, speaking up for the first time. She stared down at her hands, which were crossed in her lap. She had long blonde hair, and in that position, her bangs covered most of her face. “He... he made me give it to him. I didn’t know... I mean, I couldn’t... I... it was his eyes...”

“He was a spellbinder,” the man continued for her, placing a hand possessively around her shoulder. “One glance into his eyes and she was his. He convinced her to part with the ring, a very expensive one-of-a-kind heirloom from my family, dating back to my great, great, great grandmother. And if that were not bad enough, the rogue convinced her to part with all of her credit cards and the money she had on her as well!”

“Well, you can kiss the money goodbye,” I said pointedly. “The credit cards too. Back in the old days, you could usually catch the guy as soon as he tried to use them by tracking his spending, but these days it’s pretty much common knowledge. He’s probably either passed them on to a hacker, or simply dumped them somewhere.”

“Yes, well, the money’s not important,” the man said dismissively. “It’s the ring that we’re interested in. Not only is it very valuable, it has... well, great sentimental value, you see.”

I did see. Most likely the thief had gotten away with a few hundred dollars from the girl’s wallet, and maybe a few more if he had a fence for the credit cards. His focus on the ring, as well as the woman’s reaction, however, told me that the heirloom was definitely legit, probably in the ten to hundred thousand dollar range. Still, one piece of the puzzle didn’t quite fit.

“So, I can assume you’ve already contacted the police about the theft,” I asked offhandedly, watching the man from the corner of my eye. As expected, he tensed slightly.

“Well, um, y-yes, we did... about the money and credit cards, yes,” he said haltingly. “But, well... you see, the ring was... well, it was a gift from my grandmother, the patriarch of my family. If she found out that it had been stolen, why, it would simply break her heart!”

And likely get you kicked out of the old lady’s will. Okay, that’s the missing piece. I simply nodded. “So, mentioning the ring to the police would cause an official investigation, something that would be listed in a file, and made public knowledge. And you’d prefer it to stay in the Q-T for the time being?” He nodded, smiling brightly, his blue-green eyes shining again.

“Indeed. As I said, you came highly recommended as a woman who can get things done, and that discretion was your trademark.”

“Quite true,” I said with a grin of my own, mentally adding up the numbers in my head. “But of course, discretion costs money. I have some connections in town. I can make some calls, ask a few questions, but you know how it works. Sometimes you have to grease a few palms in order to loosen some lips. And of course, it takes a bit more to get those loose lips tightened up again.” I chuckled inward as the young man winced. “Sorry, just the way the world works. Oh, and I can’t guarantee absolutely that I’ll find the ring. I’ll do my best, give it my all, but if it ends up in the hands of a collector overseas, then we’re pretty much out of luck. Oh, and I intend to be paid for my services, either way.”

“Yes, well, of course,” the man murmured softly, reaching into his coat pocket. “I trust this will suffice for a retainer,” he said, offhandedly, tossing a small but thick envelope onto my desk. I opened it, and gasped, flipping through a thick wad of hundred dollar bills. “That should provide you with ample ‘grease’, I trust?” he said with a smirk. “That’s yours to keep, as a good faith effort for your work. If you succeed and manage to find the ring, I will provide you will double that amount. So...do we have a deal?”

Counting, counting... three, four... five thousand dollars? As a retainer? And double that if I actually find the ring? Grinning like an idiot, I took the man’s hand, shaking it vigorously. “A deal? Yessir! Absolutely. We definitely have a deal!”

“We definitely have a deal!”

Stupid. Damned stupid. I mean, really, who takes a job from a couple right off the street without doing a thorough background check on them? Answer? A damned foolish dumbass too blinded by the dollar signs flashing in her eyes to see what was going on right in front of her damned face! I shoulda seen it coming. Worse, I’d actually gotten a warning of sorts from Helen, the wife. When her husband had gone downstairs to get a drink of water, I’d asked her if she could tell me more about the man who had robbed her, if she could give me a description. She shook her head, saying that she couldn’t remember. Then, she reached out, and grabbed my hand, clenching it tightly. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, as if struggling to find the words.

“You don’t... you should... not take this job,” she said after a moment, still clenching my hand. “He’s dangerous.”

I’d merely nodded, squeezing her hand back in support. “Don’t worry,” I’d reassured her, “I can take care of myself.” Her husband had come back then, and she’d pulled away, clenched hands returning to her lap, her head dropping back down to stare at them. The rest of the conversation had covered how to contact them, and confirming the financial arrangements, everything else forgotten.

As I said, stupid. So many signs, so many obvious things, things I should have figured out. Shoulda seen it coming from a mile away. Like the easy way I tracked down the thief, the supposed spellbinder. Way too easy, like a trail of breadcrumbs left for me to find. And the easy way he’d given up his fence, all but begging to give me the information. Shoulda known. Shoulda known it was a set-up. And when I stepped into the back of that dark, empty deserted office building, and when someone slipped out of that darkness to bash me in the back of the head...

Well, looking back at it now, I can’t say that I was really surprised.

“Now, then, my dear,” Donald said, recapturing my attention, “we’re just waiting for the rest of our group to arrive before we begin the festivities.” He walked down to the foot of the bed, pinching my baby toe as he walked by, causing me to yelp. “What’s wrong, Anastacia?” he teased. “A little uptight? Don’t worry. It’ll all be over soon enough.”

Which was exactly what I was afraid of. A moment later, the door behind me opened, and a pair of footsteps approached my position. “Ah! You made it, and just in time.,” Donald said pleasantly. “A few minutes more and I would have started on her myself.”

“Oh, now, perish the thought, dear brother,” Maximillian Andrews replied, stepping into view. “I would not have missed this for the world. After all, this bitch disrespected our entire family when she disrespected you, and as a Finkerbeiner clan, it would be remiss of me NOT to be here when you exact your revenge.”

Huh. Brothers. I thought I’d recognized that arrogant upper crust tone from somewhere.

“Quite true, little brother,” Donald conceded, “but let us not forget who actually suffered the indignity of being bested by this filthy whore. It was I who was left dangling from the side of the Trump Tower’s thirtieth floor! I was the one forced to endure the ridicule and judgment of my peers , forced to actually serve time in a federal prison—”

“Of which, I managed to arrange for your early release,” Max replied, “through no small amount of effort on my part. Believe me, brother, I wish to see her suffer every bit as much as you do. But,” he said with an evil chuckle, “such a treat as this deserves special consideration. No quick kill here, brother. We want her to suffer, to cry out and beg for death before we actually finish her.”

“Hmmm.. interesting. Very well, I agree.” He paused, frowning slightly. “But, why did you bring HER along, brother?” he asked, gesturing to the fake Helen Andrews as she also stepped into view, head down, hands clasped together tightly. “She did her job, and played her role. We have no further use for her.”

“Oh, but there is always a use for a such a delicious little piece of sweet meat like this,” Max replied with a laugh. “If nothing else, she’s another pair of hands. And when the police eventually find Ms. Sanford’s body, and DNA and identifying marks will all be linked to her, not to us.”

Well, shit. That told me what my final destination was. Brutal senseless torture, then a violent agonizing death. Not exactly on my list of fun ways to spend my evening. I looked up then at the girl, the lovely blonde haired accomplice, who met my eyes. I saw a strange sadness on her face, and as the men talked on, discussing my ultimate fate in graphic detail, she whispered to me, so softly I could barely hear, a mere mouthing of the words.

“I’m sorry. I tried to warn you. I’m so so sorry...”

“Helen, my dear,” Max called out, causing her to turn. I glanced up as well, then groaned softly, my vision swimming as I met his eyes. His deep. Blue. Glowing. E.y.e.s.s.s.s.s.s.s.s... With an effort I shook it off, feeling nothing more than a slight headache. Helen, however, wasn’t so lucky, fully ensnared by Max’s gaze. “That’s right, my dear,” he cooed softly, “gaze deep into my eyes... just like the last time. Let yourself relax and flow away, let your mind slow down and your thoughts stop. There’s no need to think anymore, my sweet, no need to think. I will do your thinking for you. And you will listen and obey, won’t you my dear?”

“Yeesss...” she slurred, completely out of it. “Listen... and... obey...”

“Good girl,” Max crowed softly, glancing down at me. “Well, Miss Sanford, what do you think? Haven’t I chosen a very lovely executioner for you?” He laughed merrily, as if he’d just told the best joke in the world. I merely rolled my eyes.

“Well, if nothing else, it’s nice to know that you did tell the truth back in my office,” I replied with a smirk. “Poor Helen actually WAS the victim of an evil unscrupulous spellbinder. Too bad I didn’t realize you were describing yourself until now.” His grin faded, turning into a scowl. “Oh? What’s wrong? Did I insult your sensibilities? You Finklestein men all seem to be overly sensitive when it comes to insults... you can dish them out but you sure as hell can’t take ‘em!”

“Bitch!” he growled, peering down at me with the full power of his gaze. My world tilted crazily for a moment before settling again. I shook my head for an instantly, however, smiling into his face, which only made him angrier. I know, I know... always a mistake to taunt the guy about to work you over and break your kneecaps, but when the situation is hopeless, you take the small victories where you find them.

“It won’t work, brother,” Donald stated, placing a hand on Max’s shoulder. “She’s a Resistor. Believe me, if it was that easy to twist her insipid little mind into a pretzel, I’d have done it myself ages ago.” He reached down, caressing my cheek. “If I’d been capable of binding her will, our last encounter three years ago would have certainly ended much differently, wouldn’t it, Anastacia?”

“For the last time, Fingerbanger, the name is STACY, " I growled, struggling against my bindings. He was really starting to get under my skin... so much so that I didn’t notice until the last second when Max jabbed a hypodermic needle under my skin, sending me into deep dark unconsciousness...

Would have been nice if I’d managed to stay asleep. Or if I had never woken up at all. Not that I was the morbid, suicidal type or anything, but when you awaken to a world of pain, well, sometimes not waking up at all tends to look significantly better.

I have to hand it to them, though. Don and Max were quite creative in their tortures. Electric shock, waterboarding, and beating me senseless with a padded blunt bat just started the night. When they stuck me with enough pins to make me look like a porcupine, I was unable to hold back the tears. When they started ‘turning up the heat’ by using burning tongs to lightly scorch the bottoms of my feet, it was all I could do to keep from screaming. It was actually a relief when they decided with something as mundane as simple rape.

“How’s that feel, Anastacia?” Don Juan de Finkleberger taunted me, as he rammed his big six incher deep inside me... well, as deep as he could manage, anyway. “You denied me the last time, three years ago,,” her rasped, squeezing my breasts, mauling them hard enough to leave bruises, “but you can’t deny me now, can you? That sharp tongue of your has finally been silenced, hasn’t it?”

If by silencing, he meant forced a gag consisting of my own wadded up panties so deep down my throat i was nearly choking on them, then yes, he had a point. Oh well. At least they hadn’t cut out my tongue to keep me quiet.

When he finally came a few minutes later, I was just about done. He pulled out, removing his gunk filled condom, holding it over my head. “It would have been so nice to fill you up with my spunk,” he taunted me again, “to force my seed deep into your very core, and send you to your death bearing my taint.” He chuckled, shaking his head in disappointment. “Still, best not to chance it. The police in this city are bumbling morons, but leaving a note attached to your body saying ‘Donald Finkerbeiner was here’ might be enough for even them to make the connection.” Snapping his fingers, he pointed towards me. “Helen. I’m done with her now. It’s time to end this. Wait five minutes for my brother and me to get to the car and drive off, then slit her throat.” He grinned evilly. “You will then make your way out of the building and return home. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir, I understand,” Helen replied woodenly, clenching the blade in her hands tightly. She peered down at me again, her eyes wide and glazed, as if not truly even aware of me, but as Donald walked out to leave, I saw tears begin to fall down her cheeks. Damn! She’s still in there, somewhere. If I can just reach her somehow, maybe I can help her shake off her trance!

As the door closed, and the countdown began, I struggled anew in my bonds, twisting my head back and forth to the side. It took about a minute or so to remove the gag from around my mouth, allowing me to spit out the wadded up panties. I wasted a few more vital seconds hacking and retching, and catching my breath—contrary to most of the erotic stories you might read, being forced to suck on your own juices is NOT sexy. Somewhat composed, I turned my attention to the blonde who stood, knife in hand, staring intently at me.

“Helen,” I said, my voice strained and raspy. “Helen. Come on. Snap out of it! You can do it, hon. Please... just wake up. You don’t want to kill me. You don’t have to kill me. You can just... just put the knife down, and untie me, and we can get out of here together, you and me. C’mon, kid... whaddya say?” Her response was to continue staring at me silently, gripping the blade even tighter. Shit. Running out of time here. If I can’t go around his mental tampering, I’ll have to try going right over it.

“Helen,” I said sternly, with as much force as I could muster. “Look at me. Look into my eyes.” I let out a sigh of relief as she responded, turning slightly to deep into my peepers, and crossed my fingers. “That’s it, Helen, stare deep into my eyes... you remember what it’s like to stare into someone eyes, don’t you... that blissful relaxing feeling... staring into that deep piercing blue green place... letting it fill your vision, letting it fill you as well... fill you, even as it empties you. You can see the blue, can’t you, Helen?”

“Yesss... blue...” she lisped slightly, her face going completely slack.

“Good girl, Helen. Very good girl. Now, listen closely. Listen and obey. I want you to drop the knife in your hand to the floor. Don’t think about it. Don’t think at all. Just obey.”

“Obeeeyyy...” she intoned, her fingers twitching weakly, surrendering the deadly blade to gravity. I would have whooped for joy if I wasn’t scared of breaking the fragile control I’d taken over the poor bewildered blonde before me. “Good girl, Helen. Very good girl. I will reward you soon for being such a good girl. I promise. But there is one more thing I need for you to do for me. I need you to reach down and unbuckle the restraints around my wrists. Again, don’t think about it, just obey. Your hands know what to do. Your fingers know what to do. Don’t think about, just let your mind sink back into that soft warm blue place and let your fingers obey.”

“Yeess... blue... so relaxing... obey...” she murmured softly, her hand moving steadily with purpose as first one, then the other restrain was removed. Rubbing them briskly, I sat up.

“Good girl, Helen,” I said sincerely with a smile. “Very good girl. Now, I want you to sit here on this bed and close your eyes. When I tap you again on the shoulder, you will awaken completely. You will not panic or freak out, and you will follow my instructions. Do you understand, Helen?” She gave her consent, and I placed her on the hospital bed while I went in search for my clothes.

Half an hour later, I stood leaning against the hood of a police cruiser, a police issue blanket wrapped around my chest. Underneath I was clad only in my underwear; the bastards had apparently taken gleeful pride in tearing and shredding my clothes to ribbons. Not that it would have mattered much at this point. After all the abuse I’d suffered, wearing my usual heavy clothes would have been painful. Point of fact, I really needed to get checked out at the hospital. I was pretty sure I was going to be pissing blood for a week from some of the kidney shot’s I’d taken. Still, I insisted on waiting around a while once I’d given my statement—

“Let go! Let me go! You flatfooted ruffian! You low paid plebian public servants! You have no right to do this to me!” Maximillian Finkerbeiner screamed, struggling in his handcuffs as two large burly uniformed officers lead him unwillingly out of his mansion. “I’ve done nothing wrong! I have—” His eyes widened and his jaw dropped as I stepped into view, still alive, if slightly unwell, from our encounter. Anything other protests he might have made died on his lips, and he openly gawked at me as the officers tossed him into the back of the squad car.

Donald’s reaction was a bit more restrained when he was lead out a few seconds later. He gawked at me too, but he merely shook his head ruefully accepting that he’d somehow been bested. Again. I waited until he was passing by then yelled out, “Hey, Quincy, when you get back to prison, remember not to drop the soap, or your last name really WILL be Fingerbang!” As expected, he lunged for me, irrationally, even with his hands firmly secured behind his back. Also, as expected, the fine officers restraining him took his resistance to being arrested and responded in kind.

“Got what you wanted, Stace?” Sergeant Joe Tucker, an old friend from my badge carrying days, asked, gesturing with his head at the sufficiently subdued Donald. I nodded, smiling despite my own weariness. “Hell of a thing. I always said you were a tough old broad, but from the sound of things, you’re damn lucky to be alive and in one piece.”

“Hell, I’m lucky they didn’t mutilate my face,” I said with a soft chuckle. “I only get by on my looks as it is.”

“Har de har har,” Tucker replied with a smirk. “Joke all you want, Stace, but you had a pretty close call. I don’t see how you’re even standing.”

“I’m not important,” I insisted, glancing over as the Lieutenant in charge walked by, accompanying Helen Andrews on her way to the ambulance. I sighed deeply. “Those two really did a number on her, Joe. Just an innocent girl, plucked off the street... a pawn in a sadistic plan to get back at me.” I shook my head. “It’s my fault she was even involved in this, Joe. My fault.”

“No, Stace, it’s not,” Joe said firmly. “It’s their fault,” he replied, gesturing with his head again. “And trust me, with everything you and the blonde girl told us, we have more than enough to keep the both of them behind bars for a long, long time. And no slick wise guy lawyer is getting them off with a slap on the wrist this time, I can guarantee you that.”

“Really?” I challenged, turning to face him, then stumbled, nearly falling until he grabbed my shoulder. “How do you know.. what makes you so sure?”

“Easy, kid. Easy.” He held me until i caught my second wind. “That girl? She’s Senator Johnson’s niece. It just so happens that he was there visiting the family when news of his niece’s disappearance came in. From what I hear, he intends to make good and sure that these two are on social security before they get out.” I smiled, then sighed, feeling myself start to fade out. “Okay, Stace, that’s enough for now. C’mon... I’m taking you to the hospital to get checked out. I spoke to your brother on the way in, he’s gonna meet us there.” I nodded wearily, settling into the squad car next to him, finally letting my eyes close.

A hallowing experience, but I lived through it. Now if I can only survive the scolding my brother is gonna give me...