The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

CHAPTER V: “Escape!”

So, there I was, sitting in jail, having nothing to do but think. I thought about the fact that I was going to lose my license. No way around that. I thought about the future, or lack of it. There would be no way for me to get a job, because I would be branded a sexual predator for life. I thought about how stupid the law was. As the law stood, it was not conducive to reform at all. I was not allowed any visitors. They specially picked my guards so they were all of the type that was hard to hypnotize, and there were several, so if I tried to hypnotize one, the others would be able to gas me or whatever. There was one other person in the jail, but the guards enforced a strict “no talking” rule. In despair, I attempted suicide three times. The first was by tying a sheet around my neck, tying the other end to the bars on the window, then falling down like a chopped-down tree. The guards had their hands on me, cutting up the sheet before I’d even gotten it tied to the bars. The second was by breaking the mirror and cutting my wrists with it. After that, they put me in the psychiatric ward of a hospital. The third time, I tried to will my heart to stop, but thanks to a defibulator, I was back in my mortal prison in no time.

They brought in a psychiatrist to stop me from trying to die. He wasn’t very good. After I talked with him for five minutes, he suggested that the state had the right to dictate certain things about amourous relationships, then he had the unmittigated gall to ask me to sign a confession. He’ll remember where I shoved that pen for the rest of his life. So at least I had the satisfaction of making sure one particular asshole never had the chance to procreate, but that didn’t help me in the slightest, psychologically.

The day before my trial, I heard a hissing noise like gas or something. The door came open, and I was tossed a gas mask. I barely had it on when the person who’d tossed me the mask pulled me out of the room and dragged me down the hall, down the stairs, and out onto the street. I was shoved into an expensive-looking car and the person who’d kidnapped me peeled out in a smoking blaze of glory. The mask was peeled off so my savior could see, and there, before my eyes, was Crystal. We drove into one of those underground parking garages, ditched the car, and hid in another car three levels up. Naturally they looked at every car on the way down, to see which one was ours, and they sealed off the entrance, so we ended up running a police blockade and taking the cops on a high-speed chase down the interstate.

Crystal had carefully picked a car that had a CB in it, and she had me turn it to the Police frequency. Then she told them that they were never going to take us alive, that we were going to die free and take a helluva lotta cops to Hell with us. Some cops tried to shoot out our tires, but she hurled a lit Molotov cocktail at their car, and they veered off the road, allowing the cocktail to burn another squadcar, but not badly, so she tossed a homemade plastic explosive at them, and it blew them to Hell and forced the other cops to back off. The cops started asking favors from truckers, but there were lots of exits, and we were able to avoid them easily.

We somehow found ourselves in Texas, somewhere around San Antonio. We snuck into the baggage compartment of a Greyhound bus, holding Crystal’s homemade weapons tightly to keep them from blowing up on the bus. We found ourselves in Stinkytown, I mean Houston. Stuffing the explosives in a backpack, we hitchhiked to Groesbeck, and from there we went to Corsicana. When that became unsafe, we hid out in Ennis. By then, we were tired, hungry, jumpy, and sore. I was still dressed in that damn drafty hospital gown, so Crystal stole some pants and a shirt from a sidewalk vendor, and used the money she’d taken from her foster parents to get us something from Dairy Queen. We stole a car and ditched it in Arlington, then hitchhiked to Palestine. There we hid out in one of the local motels. Crystal wired one of the lamps into the doorknob to fry anyone who touched it. Then we plopped down onto the bed and just held each other until sleep overcame us.

EPILOGUE

Having hidden out in Mexico for almost a year, we went back to Texas. We were both deeply tanned, and Crystal was pregnant. I had a fake ID made, and was now answering to a different name, which I’ll keep secret. Using other fake documents, I was able to get a job with Fleetwood Homes in Corsicana. Crystal gave birth to our daughter on August 6, 1995. We started fucking again on December 25 of that year. Here’s how it went down:

Crystal came into the bedroom at precisely eight o’clock. Apparently she’d been standing poised at the door, counting down the seconds until the time to come in had arrived. I looked up from my work and smiled the super-friendly, amicable smile that I’d given her when we’d first met.

“Oh, hello, Crystal!” I said. “You’re right on time! Come in, sit down!” I told her. She mumbled something under her breath. “What’s that?” I asked. She mumbled again. “I’m sorry, but I can’t hear you. You’ll have to speak up.”

“I SAID ‘THANK YOU!!’” she screamed. Then her face turned red, and she stammered an apology.

“No, no, it’s alright.” I told her. “You shouldn’t bottle up your anger inside you, or it’ll poison your soul.” I had to pause for a minute to remember what we’d said that day, so long ago now, it seems. The words finally came back to me. “Now, your mother’s been putting some weird shit in your head, and I have to help straighten you out. This isn’t an overnight process, mind you, but it’s going to work or I’m not Dr. John Doe.”

I pulled out a copy of the Ten Commandments, holding it reverently, and looked it over. Then I looked her over. She was wearing a high-necked, long-sleeved, full-length dress that was wine-colored and form-fitting, hugging her rather nice curves like a five-year-old hugs a teddy bear. Her hair was pulled back in a severe bun that looked like it was giving her a headache. I handed the Commandments to her and told her to read it aloud. She did, although she choked up a little over “Honor thy father and thy mother.”

“Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t think I heard anything in there about having to wear your hair so tight that it gives you a headache.” I said.

“Mom wants...” she began.

“We’re not here to speak of what your mother wants, kid.” I told her. “We’re here to help you get what you need out of life.”

“But, right here in the Ten Commandments it says ‘Honor they father and thy mother.’” she argued.

“What did your mother tell you about crazy people, or bedlams or whatever she calls them.” She started reciting a speech her mother had probably given her millions of times about how the insane were in fact posessed by the Devil, about the evil deeds performed by bedlams, etc. “Sounds like your mother knew a lot about crazy people, except that she WAS one.” She started to protest, but I cut her off. “What kind of sane person would try to scare their daughter into thinking that they had to suffer their entire life to avoid enternal damnation in Hell?” I demanded. “What kind of sane person locks their own child in a closet with no food or water, to wallow in their own shit?”

“Y-you should watch your language.” she stammered.

“I don’t cuss just for the hell of it!” I replied. “There are few enough words in the English language as it is. I say a person oughtta use every word they know. Besides, there’s swear words in the Bible. Ass, damn, Hell—and it goes on. The trick is not to overdo it so you’re cramming eight swear words in every sentence. But that’s not the point. The point is, some of the stuff your mom told you is bullshit.” She gasped. I continued. “God does NOT walk the parking lots of motels, smiting people with a sword. You do NOT have to do EVERYTHING your mother tells you to just because she is your mother. Sometimes you do your mother more honor by getting her psychiatric help if she goes nuts. I don’t think God would want His children abusing their children, making slaves of them, and all that.” I told her about the many good and benevolent things God has done. She made her face look as though she was questioning what her mom had told her. I asked her to let her hair down. She pretended to hesitate, then complied, and her hair flowed down around her. It came down to her buttocks in long, flowing streamers. Then I moved behind her and gave her a scalp massage, all the while telling her to relax. I could feel the veins throbbing in her temples, and I knew that she’d had a headache from the tight bun. The massage eased the pain while I stood there, almost whispering to her, until I had her in a trance. I moved back around to the front so she could hear me better as she sat there, her eyes closed as she concentrated on my words, and her nipples began to harden under the thin dress. I had her in the trance for almost ten minutes before my erection became painful.

I undid my tight pants to give my swollen, throbbing cock some breathing room. All the while she was answering every question I asked her, the same questions I had asked the first time she’d been in a trance. I got her to tell me that her cunt had started to swell and itch a lot, and it would bother her the whole day or until she cleaned it with a sponge in the bathtub. I told her that the itch in her cunt was her body’s signal that she needed sexual stimulation. She told me she was afraid, because intercourse was a sin. I locked the door and had her open her mouth. I put my ten-inch throbbing cock in her mouth and had her suck it. Her skill as a suckstress had not diminished one iota since that first session so long ago. I shot my jism in her mouth and had her swallow it.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” I asked. She replied in the negative. We continued the session, and after ten minutes I was hard again. Her cunt had started to swell and itch, too, so I asked her to take off the dress and show me. She acted as she had so long ago, pretending that her inhibitions had kicked in and prevented her, but I got her undressed. She got onto the couch, spread her legs, and showed me her wet, swollen pussy.

“That’s easily remedied.” I told her, then I put my face near her cunt and began to lick her clit. She gasped each time I licked her, and the clit and lips began to swell more. I lost control and began to suck on her clit.

“What are you doing?” she gasped, remembering her lines. I ignored her words and continued eating her, tasting her sweet honey in my mouth as she moaned her pleasure and had an orgasm all over my face. I went and got a napkin to wipe my face and two glasses of water for me and my panting, naked patient. She drank the water gratefully.

“So, how was that, my pretty patient?” I asked her.

“Wonderful.” she sighed. I turned off the ringer on my telephone and turned down the volume on my answering machine. My erection was becoming painful again. I undressed myself as she watched, and we were both naked, and she could see my hard, throbbing cock. I told her how much I wanted her, and her nipples hardened, her pussy swelled again and she became wet with the suggestions I was whispering to her. I had her lay back on the couch, then I used my fingers to stretch her womanflesh so I could get in there. I inserted my cock and she gasped in pleasure. I put the whole of my cock inside her, and she cried out, and then I began to fuck her. She begged me to stop, although I could tell she didn’t want me to. She began to moan again, and she grabbed my buttocks and tried to grind on my cock and pull me in all the way, cock, nuts, legs, feet, chest, etc. Her moans became screams as I intensified the thrusting and began to bite her hard nipples in my teeth. I licked her over as much of her body as I could with my cock jammed in her crotch. She came repeatedly as I took my pleasure in her body, and eventually, I shot my load inside her and she came one more time simultaneously with me. There was no blood this time. She lay there, limp as a wet noodle, smiling wearily. I told her to wait while I went to the restroom, and when I returned, she was happily mopping up the fluids on the couch.

“I love you.” she whispered to me. “I could never live without you.”

“I love you too, honey.” I replied, kissing her warmly. “Thanks for playing my virgin patient for me.”

“I liked reliving our first time.” she told me. “It reminds me how you brought me out of the darkness of my mother’s shadow.” She kissed my cheek, laughing hungrily. “And I’m lucky to have a husband who loves me as much as you do.” Then she took my hands and put one on her breast and one on her hip. She sighed once, looking into my eyes with a hunger that was almost tangible. Then she recited the oath I made her swear so long ago. I pulled her naked body close to mine, lifted her into my arms, and put her on the bed. I crawled under the covers with her, and lustily bit her hard, peaked nipples as I reached for the chain that would plunge the room into darkness.