The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Elizabeth sat, eyes screwed tightly shut, in a modest wooden chair. She was in a bind. She lived a humble life running an orphanage, though it wasn’t hers, of course, it belonged to a man she was theoretically married to. Ten years her senior, he was a capable and responsible man but not one she’d ever felt any attachment to. In most cases this might be borderline blasphemous to admit, but the sense she felt towards him-one of ambivalent disregard mixed with mild admiration-seemed to flow both ways. In any case, he had been rendered unable to work by some malady the doctors couldn’t make heads or tails of. This was doubly troubling to her: not only was his income denied them, she was forced to add his maintenance to that of the children and orphanage. It wasn’t her task alone, of course, but she could hardly demand that employees (or volunteers, as was increasingly the case) take up the responsibility of his well being in her place.

That led to the final crushing weight that threatened to destroy her entirely: her outstanding debt. It was technically her husband’s, of course, but if he was thrown into a wretched debtor’s prison it would make carrying out her various dealings even more difficult. Her options were few and far between.

For an ordinary woman in her predicament, there would be two options: adding herself to the ranks of a brothel or a nunnery. Unfortunately, even these last bared teeth of a rat backed into a corner would be insufficient to absolve her. Heaven and hell offered each precisely as little respite from the earthly damnation that poised, jaws open, ready to claim the children in her care the instant her grip on its maw went slack. She pondered incessantly what to do. The thought of prostrating herself at the bank and weeping crossed her mind but she knew they’d only turn her away. The church was equally unfit as an ally-she knew if they cared for their neighbors as they claimed, then she wouldn’t need to request their aid.

But what else was there?

An androgynous young woman-probably twenty two or so-skipped eagerly through the market. A suit tailor-made for a man hugged her body nicely, with the pants that accompanied them just a tad loose. A belt made of fine leather negated that issue, though, and the high quality gloves and cane that adorned her slender, agile fingers made sure nobody was looking that low for long. She had a bit of a square face, with high cheekbones and a slightly mannish jaw, and the blonde hair on her head was spiky but short, about the length that would be conventional for a hedonistic man of her age. Her strikingly fair skin and bright blue eyes made the sight of her long and thin body almost ethereal.

This was Carlotta Nethys, esteemed troublemaker extraordinaire. Eyes turned to her as she exchanged a coin for a piece of bread half its worth, then danced to another stall and purchased a piece of fruit with another coin that was even more overkill than the last. The attention was as usual as the sun on a sunny day, as was her frantic energy.

“Bless you!” She overheard the second vendor exclaim as she scrambled away and danced to a drum that didn’t exist.

“No need, fair sir!” She cried, gesturing as though tipping an invisible hat, “Waste not your gratitude on me, put it where it’s due-in the people’s hands!” She passed several more stands as she continued her frenzied motions, but stopped when she saw two dirty-looking kids dashing off with some bread and the man in charge of the shop starting after them. She frowned; that wasn’t right! “Sir! Sir, it’s quite alright!” She grabbed the bread with her mouth and tucked her cane under one arm to hold the fruit in that hand so she could search her pockets with the other; she found nothing.

“Those damn kids—!” The vendor turned to her, enraged. “You see that!?”

“No,” Carlotta answered as retrieved the bread from her mouth and switched the fruit in her hand with a pendant in her other pocket. It was not a day too cloudy for light to touch the soil, which would be handy. “I don’t think you did either.”

“What are you-of course I saw it!” He snarled. “I suppose you mean to bribe me with that trinket!? Have one of your little friends steal it back by the sun’s set!?”

Damn. That idea actually wasn’t half bad. She almost felt slighted by this man’s invention of a more sophisticated plot than hers.

“No, nothing so underhanded.” She smiled and held up the necklace. A single small mass of purple gemstone, smooth and with perfectly flat sides and faces, the front and back each a hexagon with diagonal four-sided prisms reaching back and out from each edge to meet those extending from the opposite, dangled at the end. The light of day gave it a beautiful glow. The man felt wobbly and uncertain as it consumed his gaze. “I’m just acting as the devil’s advocate. You can’t be sure of what you saw, can you?”

“Why...not?” He muttered, his body limpening and starting to sway.

“You’re just one witness,” she said in a sultry voice. “You need several accounts in order for testimony to serve as evidence.” She was pretty sure this wasn’t true. It was definitely not true in practice, at least not for members of a class high enough to take another to court.

“But...other people…” he was confused. But he was buying it.

“Ah!” She said with a sense of energy about her, “but each pair of eyes can give but one account, correct?” She nodded. He nodded. Excellent. “That means none are acceptable evidence, does it not?” A pause. He reluctantly nodded. No matter how many eyes beheld the event, zero multiplied infinitely was still zero. “So you can’t. Now let those innocent children be.”

“Innocent…” he blankly returned to his stall and then, on a delay, snapped out of it. That was fine.

“Good day, sir!” Carlotta grinned and ran past. She felt a little guilty; because while those children needed to eat, so too did this man have to eat. She would cover the price of the stolen goods, but in a stroke of misfortune her well of funds was currently dry.

Her long legs, passable street smarts and well-trained lungs ensured that Carlotta found the children before long. They came to a stop in front of an orphanage. She frowned. Did those unfortunate children who lived here not have enough to eat? These two certainly had the appearance to suggest so.

One knocked at the door. Soon, a young woman, not much older than Carlotta was, answered it. The children held up the bread.

“Since you helped us!”

“Here, take it!”

“No, no, no,” the woman admonished them and waved her hand. “You need that more! Besides, it’s not food we’re short on—”

“Please, take it!” Said the girl, who jumped in an effort to thrust her prize into the woman’s hands. “It’s all we can offer!” She sounded like she was on the verge of tears. Presumably for that reason, the woman sighed and took both pieces of bread.

“Thank...thank you, dear. Do you both have enough to eat?”

“We do, we do!” Cried the boy. He was potentially lying. The woman knew it; she frowned.

“If you insist. Thank you, children.” She ducked behind the door and the two kids seemed to revel in their act of charity a second before darting off.

Well, that was worrisome. A pretty lady’s orphanage was in danger?

Carlotta could hardly take a step away from such a thing. That would be wrong.

This woman needed her services.

A knock brought Elizabeth back to the door. Her heart sank as she scuttled to it. Was it one of her debtors? Had those two poor children made criminals once more of themselves to her benefit? Nothing good could be knocking now, at her door.

“Salutations!” She cried with a smile of forced optimism. She threw the door open...and saw neither child nor man.

A young woman stood tall, a cane planted by one hand in the earth. She sported a confident grin which coursed with manic energies and glinted in the sun. The midday sky’s light seemed to drape itself in a heavenly mantle around this stranger’s shoulders and nestle into her hair like a bird into its shelter.

“To you as well!” They answered her greeting. The young woman spun her cane all about her before planting its end once more in the dirt. “My name is Carlotta Nethys, daughter of the devil! At your service!”

“You’re...what?” Elizabeth’s heart quickened. Had a demon heard her thoughts earlier? No...the face of evil, this fair maiden? It was unthinkable. Perish the thought! Yet, no angel would invoke their father’s enemy with such a grin on their face. A blasphemer stood in her doorway. Nothing good.

“But a title bestowed me by kings and scoundrels,” answered her visitor with a bow and a flourish, “tis my moniker, knot one deeper.” A pause and a laugh. “That jest was one meant for scribes, not the tongue.” Carlotta stood straight and licked her lips. “Your orphanage suffers, correct?”

“Yes...it suffers,” Elizabeth admitted to this stranger.

“Well, fair maiden,” Elizabeth was sure nobody had called her such a thing in her life, “Consider the chains of your misfortune severed!” Another bow. This one carried the visitor to the ground, where she got on one knee like players taking the part of a knight. “I can answer any one prayer! Name your troubles and I, daughter of the devil, shall make them naught but painful memories! For a price, of course.”

Elizabeth blushed. This all sounded too alike a scam. If she placed her hopes in this woman’s hands, was she to be robbed with a smile? Was this a trap orchestrated in part by the source of her loans, to pile interest ever higher? No, she thought, such unknowable cruelty could simply not be!

“Accept my aid if you wish,” said Carlotta, “But be it known, that you must find some—”

“I accept!” Elizabeth blurted out. What...had she agreed to? She made fists of her hands. “I...I accept. Name, your price.” Carlotta extended one cupped hand up towards her, as though she meant to cradle the sun. Her eyes shone with considerable kindness and respect. “Grace these eyes with your smile, but once.”

“Cease this masquerade!” Cried Elizabeth. “Do now as your employer demands! Name—”

“Ah,” Carlotta cut her off as she rose to her feet with the cane pinned under one arm, “You misunderstand, daughter of Eve. I have done already as you insist I do-my price, you see, is to see your smile but a single time.”

Elizabeth froze, taken aback. That was all this woman wished for? She swallowed and made the friendliest, happiest face she could.

“Excellent!” Carlotta grinned with a manic air that felt almost malicious. “Tell me your troubles now, that I might condemn them to history.”

“Debt.” Answered Elizabeth. “Debt, is all that ails me.”

“Then my task is but a trifle. Give me your name, your husband’s, and your orphanage’s. If you know at a glance the sum of your indebtment as well, then that information should lessen my difficulties.”

Carlotta had a mission. Within two days she’d found a solution which, within the racing thoughts that were hers, seemed utterly impregnable. She had one action to perform, and would follow through afterwards with one of two three-step operations upon its completion (depending on whether she succeeded).

Nobility, Carlotta found (and doubly was this so for men of noble stock), tended to fall into one of two admittedly broad classifications in their chambers. The specifics and causes of both had broad room for variance , but they tended either to be sacrilegiously accomplished in matters of the flesh, or else orphaned from the very idea of pursuing pleasure.

Either way, it was the rare marriage whose participants both turned away someone of her skillset. Her mild androgyny probably helped her a small amount in this regard-not that her plan hinged on it entirely. Regardless, it was this possibility which she planned to capitalize on if she must. The wife of a local noble was in town of late, and Carlotta had intentions for her. She made sure to ruffle her hair and scuff her shoes before she headed into town for the day.

Sure as the sunset, and clear as crystal, the woman was in fact present in the square. Her luscious, slightly curled locks of light brown hair fell heavy on her slim and elegant shoulders, where they twisted every which way like the leaves of a vine. Her slightly pudgy face, broad pastel lips, and rich amber eyes were all gentle in looks and sweet for the eyes. Her skin carried the usual palour of wealth, bleached white by a life spent indoors-unlike the skin draped over Carlotta herself, which was exceedingly vulnerable to sunlight and bleached white wherever she could shade it with sleeves or pant legs or a hat.

Carlotta approached and introduced herself as a noblewoman on trying times-itself not a falsehood.

“Greetings, gentlewoman! May this seed of a gentleman’s house in poor times grace herself with but a moment of your time?” She asked, a dollop of fear giving bite to her tongue. Carlotta did a curtsey, awkwardly from the unfamiliarity of a skill left in disuse, with hopes of securing endearment for herself. The noblewoman chuckled and, it seemed, was happy to oblige this stranger.

“With certainty, madam!” It seemed to Carlotta that she had found either a pleasant soul or a half-competent liar. Experience told her the latter was more likely. “What is your name, dear? And, may I ask, what brings you to seek my company?”

“My name be Carlotta Williams,” Carlotta answered as she gestured with two fingers to a coat of arms on her suit’s shoulder, “And my father was taken by men of grave rapport.” He had, she remarked to herself. What better occupation could there be to consider “grave” than men who made a living burying those who no longer could? “My family has no means to see him returned. It has been so long that I fear his retrieval is impossible, but I beseech you, grant me shelter for but a day or so? I have not seen the inside of a decent lodging in months.” This actually was a lie but, Carlotta reasoned, it wasn’t truly an act of deceit if it would be honest by the other woman’s measure. “As for your name, may I inquire it of you?”

“Where are my manners, Carlotta?” The woman asked with a small but jovial laugh, “Lost, it seems! My name is Agnes. Agnes King. A pleasure to meet you!” Agnes performed a curtsey of her own, which was much prettier and more graceful than Carlotta’s earlier performance. It wasn’t hard to grasp why that might be. “I hope such a conversational fumble hasn’t offended your sensibilities, dear-I’ve long struggled with the rules that govern these things, you know.”

I know now, Carlotta snarked silently to herself. “It is of little concern, don’t worry. I never cared much for the constraints of social procedure myself. I shall accompany you through the day, then?”

“Yes,” Agnes said back, “Of course, of course! Right this way dear, I have to see a man about a horse.” The two carried out the daily business of a lesser member of gentry’s wife out on a vacation. Carlotta would struggle to tell a listener later what that had actually entailed. She followed Agnes through it all, of course, and yet little of it actually got through to her. She was treated to a meal, and it was hardly a modest one at that, but all other details of the day failed to find purchase in her memory.

“I lament that I can only offer this, kind Carlotta,” said Agnes as the two young women entered an estate. It was the biggest building Carlotta had ever been invited into. “Make a home of it as best you please, and feel no need to leave with haste, am I clear?” She blushed a little bit, distracted for some sixth or seventh time that day by the beautiful gemstone that hung, glittering pleasingly, from her guest’s neck. “May I ask a question, Carlotta?”

“Of course, madame.” Carlotta made a big show of doing a curtsey, which she had been stealthily practicing each time the gentlewoman took their eyes off her. It was passable.

“If your family’s finance is in such shambles, wherefore the coat, the cane? Surely their worth is no small sum?” Carlotta grinned but managed to force it into the shape of pride trounced by humility.

“These are gifts I received from several of my beloved,” she answered with a dramatic gesture like she was a princess in a play, swooning at the sky in wait of a knight. “To exchange the fruits of such bonds for gold, why,” she paused for half a second. To compare herself to a brothel worker would be expected, and nobles she knew to loathe having anything at all in common with them. Still, however, she held the working woman in high esteem, far too high to dare using their image to degrade herself. “I would rather climb a mountain and fast in hopes of an audience with God!” She stood straight and pressed the cane against the manor’s polished floor with both hands, but made sure not to scratch it. “I am sure you can relate. Would you pawn your mother’s wedding dress, or your grandfather’s knife?”

“I...well, I don’t know,” Agnes stammered, visibly taken aback and almost in awe. “But to live in squalor for your character, it’s...astonishing! Truly a woman of your persuasion is deserving of better?” An opportunity presented itself, like the shadow of a big fish passing under the boat of a starving man. A risk, a gamble, but Carlotta was a player in every sense.

“Your bed, mayhaps?” Carlotta asked with a playful grin. Agnes seemed to sweat terribly but as her face grew red she showed no signs of anger or indignation.

“I-I think you’ve misspoken!” She laughed with nervous, almost frantic aplomb. “Where am I to rest, then? I assure you the guest room is plenty—”

“Your bed, mayhaps?” Carlotta repeated herself with a playful smile. “With my company?”

“Your...company? Pray tell, whatever do you—” Carlotta was on one knee and gently took one of Agnes’ hands. She paused to allow it to escape if Agnes so wished, but in spite of a moment of tension no such thing occurred. Then she placed it in front of her face and began to stroke gently with both thumbs while she inspected it. Agnes’ hands were, unsurprisingly, rather soft. Her skin was supple and warm and pleasant to touch. Her fingers were a bit fatter than Carlotta’s, though not by much.

“I mean, my lady, precisely what you think.” She daintily kissed a ring on Agnes’ finger. It had the awful metallic taste of keys and money. It was the taste of blood as well, which Carlotta had always found curious. “You are beautiful and I have slept too often exposed and alone in cold corners of alleyways. To go without repaying the generous kindness you’ve gifted me, would offend my gentlemanly name.”

Agnes seemed to like the sound of that. She relaxed almost instantly. “I see, that’s quite alright. There’s no harm in providing hospitality to a lady in need, after all.”

“None.” Agreed Carlotta as she rose to stand straight and tall. The gemstone suspended from her neck glittered in the room’s gentle torchlight. Agnes smiled fondly at it and what few reservations she still held faded.

“That necklace...it’s beautiful…”

“It is, Agnes,” said Carlotta with a smile as she daintily lifted the necklace over her head to dangle the gem between herself and her host. This hadn’t been part of her scheme, but it was an opportunity she wouldn’t allow to escape. “See how elegantly it snares the light?”

“I...dooo,” moaned an Agnes whose eyes fluttered gently. “It’s...breathtaking…”

“Yes,” purred Carlotta with encouragement in her voice, “breathtaking. Beautiful. Almost...otherworldly, is it not?”

“It isssss,” Agnes conceded. She could feel the light of that beautiful little trinket warming her mind and spreading through her. She felt nice and happy and relaxed. She liked the gemstone. She liked Carlotta.

A hand touched her thigh, gently and inquisitively. Carlotta smiled. “The night descends, let us do the same.” Agnes smiled wider, eyes still transfixed on the gemstone. She agreed.

“Let...us...together…” she moaned. The necklace returned to her guest’s neck and its magic seemed to fade. “Wow. That’s...lovely.”

“It is,” cooed Carlotta. “Shall we rest?”

“Yes,” Agnes yawned, aware that a hand was under her gown and not particularly put off about it. “Together…”