The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Detective James Thomas watched his out of shape partner Martin Slange struggle up the driveway and into the yard. “He’s in here,” Thomas said with a growing sense of agitation for his overweight comrade. “I heard that door open and close,” he whispered and motioned towards an old red garage door with his head. Martin didn’t respond. He couldn’t respond. The chase down two residential streets had taken too much out of him. His lungs were burning. His heart was fluttering like a hummingbirds wings. He collapsed to his knees and found bittersweet salvation inhaling the hot July’s night air. “Damn it, Martin cut back on the donuts,” Thomas snapped, then crouched down and put his hand on the butt of his Glock. “Stay here while I go in and get him.”

“Wait a minute Superman. How do you know he’s in there,” Martin asked through short gasps of breaths.

“Where else is he gonna go? These streets are covered with cops. That slippery bastard knows that. I know he’s in there because just the mere presence of that perverted asshole is making my skin crawl.”

Slange ran his stubby fingers through thinning blonde hair and then struggled to his feet. “I don’t know Snoop. I don’t like it. Something ain’t right. Lets at least follow proper procedure. Wait here and stakeout the spot while I call in backup.”

“Does Cheryll know she’s living with a pussy,” Thomas growled and then retrieved his nine-millimeter from its holster, took off the safety, and headed towards the garage. “I’m going to take that sick fuck down! You don’t rape a woman on my watch and get away with it,” Detective Thomas barked and went to open the door. Just as his hand grabbed the handle it flung open. He fell back in a start and his gun accidentally went off. “FREEZE YOU ASSHOLE,” he yelled from his back as a dark figure ran by him.

“Jesus Christ,” Martin shouted when he heard his partner’s gun go off. He unsheathed his revolver, his hands moving on sheer instinct. He had his snub nose thirty-eight out and aimed at the shadowy figure running out of the backyard. “I got you dead to rights. Freeze you bastard!” The shadow kept moving, jumping in and out of sight. Martin Slange squeezed the trigger to the revolver, or at least, thought he did. But he didn’t hear the loud ominous crack of the slug leaving the chamber. He didn’t see the usual sparks fly from the barrel as it spat out hot metal. He fired again. Nothing. He couldn’t believe it; his trusty side arm had failed him. Then, as if the fates had smiled down on Slange, the shadow moved right into his cross hairs. “Got you,” he whispered. The gun went off. And for the briefest of moments Martin Slange closed his eyes. When he opened them again the perp he had in his sights was gone. He blinked and he was gone. He became one with the night.

Chapter 1

Cindy Presley stared at herself in a full-length mirror “Uggh. I could stand to lose five pounds.” Cindy rolled her eyes and sighed and tried to suck in her stomach even further. Then she turned with her back facing the mirror and looked over her shoulder. She frowned disapprovingly as her eyes set their appraising gaze on her backside. “I hate Cosmo,” she muttered. “Better make that eight pounds.” Actually, Cindy was quite an attractive young lady. But like most young women who look at themselves in mirrors, it is with extreme prejudice. Because if she happened to look through eyes other than her own, she would see the beauty that makes her-her peers envy: her shoulder length chestnut hair, her fiery hazel eyes, her roasted almond skin complexion. Her full figured womanly five foot seven frame. Cindy Presley huffed and ran her fingers over her sides and down pass flaring hips. Her eyes paused for an admiring gaze of her thighs. Even Cindy couldn’t deny how beautiful and powerful they looked. Five years of running track will do that to a girl, she thought to herself before giving the image in the mirror a few more harsh critiques.

‘Come on Cindy. We’re going to be late,” Cathy Brown yelled up the stairs at her best friend, then went back to pacing the floor like a caged animal. Today was their big day. She and Cindy were meeting up with a big exec from a record label. And the thought of finally making it to the big leagues had her wired with anxious energy. If he liked their music and signed them to a contract, she thought, then I can quit my shitty little job at Borders. “God please let him like our songs,” Cathy prayed aloud. “Cindy come on!”

“Okay. Okay I’m coming,” Cindy yelled. “You don’t have to shout.” Cindy came trotting down the stairs in a pair of washed out blue jeans, an oversized Michigan jersey and a pair of opened toed sandals. “Whatever happened to patience being a virtue?”

Cathy frowned and gave Cindy a cross-eyed look. “Don’t use that four letter word around me. Patience is overrated,” Cathy said while giving Cindy the once over with her eyes. “Please tell me that is all you had in your closet.” “Nope, but I didn’t feel like dressing up in some monkey suit to meet some guy you had drinks with at a club last night.”

“He is not just some guy, Cindy. I told you, he is a record exec for Def Sounds Records. If he likes our music then he may sign us to a record deal.”

“Well excuse me then. I meant some record exec guy.”

Cathy growled and threw her hands up in the air. “Cindy, are you going to change or not? Because it would behoove you to look your best for this guy.”

Cindy cocked her head to one side and looked at her friend who was dressed in a brown pin stripped pants suit. “No, I think you look professional enough for the both of us. Besides, when has it mattered what someone wore? If the music is good he’ll like it. If it isn’t he wont.” With that Cindy grabbed her keys and started out of the house. “You coming?”

“Yeah, I’m coming. I’m coming,” said a fuming Cathy as she followed Cindy out of the front door. “You better be lucky we are crunched for time or I would drag your ass up to your closet and make you change.”

Chapter 2

They had been there for a little over forty-five minutes and Cindy had already vowed to never return to this ratty bar/wannabe jazz club. The lights were too dark. The food was too spicy; and the music was too bland. “I thought you said this guy was prompt, Cathy.” Cindy stirred her martini, which was too dry and drummed her fingernails over a Formica tabletop. “If he doesn’t show in the next five minutes I’m stepping.”

“Music execs are always fashionably late. Don’t worry he’ll be here.”

“Well he’s got five...no wait...four minutes now.”

Cathy burrowed her brow and slammed her open palm down on the table in righteous indignation. “If you walk out now, you may just be walking out on the rest of your life!”

“I think just walking in this place has taken five years off of it already. This music sucks! I mean Hoover vacuum suck. I thought you said this guy was in the music industry? If this is his idea of good music then his opinion aint worth shit.”

“He can have the Barney theme song in his c.d. player and it wouldn’t matter, as long as he gives me a contract,” Cathy replied with vague interest in the conversation. Her eyes were dancing about in her head; moving from the dance floor to the main entrance, then back again.

“There he is! Over there!” She stood up from the table and waved her arms.

Cindy turned her head to see a dark figure wearing sunglasses come out of the shadows. He was a relatively handsome individual, Cindy thought. He had a strong chin and high cheekbones. His hair was mahogany black and pulled into a ponytail and a pencil thin moustache shaded his lips. Your typical cover of G.Q looking kinda fellow. “Sorry to have kept you ladies waiting,” the dark G.Q figure said when he arrived at their table.

“Oh nonsense. Nonsense. We weren’t waiting that long. And besides, patience is a virtue,” Cathy replied and gave him a forgiving smile.

“I thought patience was a four letter word, Cat?” Cindy words got her a threatening glance from Cathy and an amused grin from the record exec guy.

“You must be Cindy,” he said and extended a hand across the table. “I’m Paul. I’ve heard so much about you.” Cindy shook the proffered hand and felt an alarming surge of energy course through her arm when his hand wrapped around hers. She gasped in shock from the touch and her reflexes reacted a second to slow to get away from his grasp. He held her hand like a vice. A thousand alarms started sounding off in her head when she felt her feet leave the floor and her body being pulled over the table. And for some reason she just let it happen. The fight in her body seemed nonexistent. She tried to scream but couldn’t. She was barely able to utter an audible moan when she felt Paul’s strong hands turn her over on her back and begin to lift her oversized shirt.

What the fuck is happening, Cindy screamed inside of her head. Where is Cathy? Her eyes danced about wildly and then went wide in terror as she noticed the club was now empty. WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO ALL THE PEOPLE?!! Cathy! Where is Cathy? Oh God no! Cindy’s heart shattered into a million pieces when she saw Cathy on her knees in front of Paul. Her head was bobbing up and down and she was moaning like, what Cindy could only describe as, a two-dollar whore. “CATHY,” Cindy yelled and didn’t realize that her voice had returned.

“Her Highness chose well when she chose you.” Paul said with a wry smile while standing over Cindy who was still on her back on the table.

“Her whatness? What the hell are you talking about!! And what have you done to Cathy? CATHY STOP THAT SHIT!!”

“Don’t concern yourself with Cathy. You should be more concerned with what is going to happen to you. Oh, and by the way, you may get up now.”

Paul’s words seized Cindy’s thoughts like a severe leg cramp. She battled with her mind to regain some semblance of order to her thoughts as she carefully slid off of the table and back into the booth. “Who...who...arrree—”

“Who am I,” Paul interrupted. “I am someone not to be trifled with. That is all you need know about me for now. Now why am I here is a different matter. I’ll let you try and guess,” he said and then put one hand on Cathy’s bobbing head.

“I...I don’t know,” Cindy admitted. She was slowly beginning to regain her composure. But, her wits were another matter. Every thought she had was jumbled onto another thought.

“For you, little one. Her, Highness desires you. So I am here to deliver you to her.” Cindy was trying to focus on what he was saying but her best friend was on her knees deep throating this guy right in front of her. When did Cathy become such a slut?

“Could you please make her stop?”

“I suppose you would rather her be servicing you?”

“No, I just can’t thi—” Paul waved his hand at her and she lost control of her body again. Something, someone had made her get out of the booth and back up on the table. Her heart was pounding with the force of ten thousand drums within her chest. Her hands were unloosening her belt and unbuttoning her pants. She couldn’t stop them. Her mind shrieked in horror when she felt her hands slipping her pants and panties off of her hips, down her thighs and then off of her body. The cold Formica tabletop kissed her chilled flesh. Her mind helpless to fight the betraying advances of her own body. Her chest heaving, her palms sweaty and shaking and her legs quivering like a withered leaf in a cold winters breeze.

Her mind tried to shut out the world when she felt her friend’s auburn locks brush up against her bare skin. No! No! Please no, was her mind’s conscience cry. Her body and mind were waging war. She felt warm breath and then soft lips on the insides of her thighs. Each full-lipped kiss repulsed her thoughts and excited her body with their slightest touch. Cindy’s mind refused to give in to her body’s and Cathy’s advances. She felt her hips bucking up in the air, waiting, encouraging the inevitable. No! No! Please no, her mind cried even louder. Her eyes focused on a spot on the ceiling tile and she lost herself there, refusing to participate in the manipulated raping of her body. No! No! Please no! She screamed inside her head. This time Grace heard her.

A blinding bright light went off within the bar and then it was shrouded in darkness. Cindy could hear yelling and screaming, footsteps moving away from her and towards her. Then she heard nothing at all. She had drifted into the darkness.

The Boogie Man Is Real!

“She’s been out for fifteen minutes,” Cindy heard someone say as she slowly eased back into consciousness. Her eyes lost and refocused on her surroundings. She knew she was in the back of a moving van. How long did he say she’d been out? Where was she? She tried to move but the splitting pain within her head told her it would be best to remain still. Her eyes refocused again and she saw a man staring down at her. He was a black man with a full beard. Judging by the gray hairs atop his head he was in his late thirties. She felt him put a cold compress on her brow then take a small light from the back of a pen and flash it in her eyes. “Almost thought we lost you there,” he said with genuine concern. “I thought that neuron descrambler did you in.”

“Where am I?”

“You’re where you’ll be safe. That is all I can tell you right now.”

“What happened?”

“You went toe to toe with a Will Bender and lived to tell about it.”

“A who?!!”

The man sighed softly and patted her forehead with the cold compress. “Their lives have been engulfed in mystery and folklore. Most stories that have been told of them has been over campfires and sleepovers. The beware of the shadows, BlairWitch Project type of nonsense. But they are real and for some reason they wanted you, for the most part, in tact. You must be special.”

“What the hell is a Will Bender?!! And why do they want me?!!”

“Rest now. When you are well we can talk. But for now rest.”