The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

When Harry opened the door of the apartment that night, he immediately noticed the flickering lights. It took him a second to realize that its source was the dozens of lit candles scattered around the apartment.

“Come into the bedroom.” Denise called. Harry entered. Denise came up to him, kissed him. “Sit on the bed.” she commanded. Harry complied. “Now make yourself comfortable.” As Harry leaned back on the pillows she had placed there Denise said “Cheap little slut and big loser.”

Denise smiled as Harry’s face went slack and his whole body relaxed. Denise enjoyed the sight of him like that for a moment. So quiet… so compliant, so open to her suggestions. She picked up a piece of paper. She had carefully written down what she wanted to say because experience had taught her the importance of maintaining the smooth flow of her voice, of speaking calmly and clearly. She was nervous. “Hey” she thought, it’s not as though my future is riding on this. “ Denise laughed. She shook a cigarette out of her pack to steady her nerves, lit it, took a long drag, then placed it carefully in the ashtray on the dresser. She took a deep breath.

“Harry” she said “once again I want you to hear the sound of my voice. It is the only thing you can hear, you know that everything I say is true, everything I say is real; unchangeable and real.” Preliminaries established, with the strange sense of being perched at the top of a big hill, she took one more deep breath and began . “Harry, I chain you to me, not with chains of iron or steel, chains of shame or chains of pain. I chain you Harry, with chains of gossamer, chains of silk, chains of love; I chain you Harry with chains of ruth and high regard, chains of healthy concern, chains of affection, chains of attraction and chains of proper need.” It was quite warm in the room Denise realized, and it almost seemed like it was getting hotter as she spoke. “I chain you Harry” she continued “to me, to Denise now and always, with chains of wholesome want and chains of friendship, chains that will never rust or split, chains that can never be broken by any power, person, thing or by any passage of time. I bind you Harry, to me, not with bonds of leather or rope, but of warmth and caring. I bind you, Harry, oh, not your hands or feet, no Harry, nothing so simple, nothing so petty, rather I bind your mind to mine, you heart to me. I bind you, not your body, but your soul; I bind you to me Harry!” In the back of her mind Denise thought she heard, no felt, a throbbing, she was sweating now, but somehow knew she shouldn’t, couldn’t stop. “I bind you Harry, I chain you to me, not for hours or days, or years or even scores of years ,not for any finite time, or any time that we can comprehend. I bind you to me Harry, for as long as there is a shred of anything that is Harry, as long as there is an atom of Denise, I chain you to me Harry for as long as there is even a memory of Denise, until the end of all time, when the universe fails.”

Denise exhaled, wiped the sweat off her forehead and fought down the bizarre urge to say “Amen”. She was surprised at what that had taken out of her. She quickly, eagerly y brought Harry out of his trance. He stood up stiffly and she flew into his arms. She kissed him hard.

“Yes Harry, to answer your question” she said “I will marry you!”

They hugged. Harry smiled, he would not show it outwardly, but deep inside, in his mind and his heart, Harry was screaming.

Denise didn’t notice the change in Harry at first. She was after busy responding to the rush of well-wishers, who were frankly surprised at her engagement. She couldn’t quite decide if she liked it or not. But a few days after she accepted Denise found herself turning to Harry in annoyance.

“What is going on?” she asked.

Harry shrugged. “Nothing.” He said.

“Nothing?” Denise repeated. “You haven’t been the same since I said I would marry you. You hardly say anything anymore, you’re moping around like your dog just died” she added angrily. “It’s almost like you didn’t want me to say yes!”

She looked at Harry, standing uneasily before her, then said quietly. “Did you?” she asked searching his face, bracing herself for the answer. “Want me to say yes?”

Harry snorted. “Of course I did.”

“Then what the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing” He turned to leave.

Denise grabbed his arm, stopped him. “Don’t give me that, what is it?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s Something!!!!” she yelled at him.

Harry turned full body to her. “All right” he yelled in return“, I’m scared. I AM SCARED!” He lowered his voice and shook his head, tired. “That’s what’s wrong with me Denise.”

“Scared of what?” Denise demanded, puzzled. “Of getting married?”

Harry shook his head impatiently. “NO! It’s… what you did, the way you became “certain” of me.”

Denise froze, stared at him confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you tied me to you, for the rest of my life!”

Denise narrowed her eyes “Yes?” she replied evenly.

“So what happens Denise” He stepped closer to her. “What happens when YOU get tired of ME? Huh, Denise? What happens when you go away, restart your life, move on? You can do that, I am tied to you. “

“But I wouldn’t…” Denise began.

“No Harry” interrupted. “Maybe not, but at least you CAN. You can leave, get tired, go away, I can’t, I can’t.” He shook his head with finality. “And if you do I can never move on, never get over it. I have to spend the rest of my life” he snorted “maybe longer wanting you, needing you, when you are gone. And even if you don’t go, never leave, I have to live with the fear of it, always wonder how I could ever deal with it—if I could ever deal with it.”

Harry sighed, shook his head again. “Look, I understand, it’s what you needed, but it’s rotten for me, it’s rotten to me. I’ll learn to live with it.” He shook his head again. “I have to, it just isn’t fair.”

They continued their evening after that, tensely, quietly but that night, lying next to Harry, Denise stared at the ceiling sleeplessly far into the morning.

The next day, late in the afternoon, Denise called Harry at work.

“Harry” said “I do love you. I don’t think I can undo what I did, but I think I have a way to make it better, so you won’t have to be afraid.”

Harry felt a flutter of nervousness. “All right.” He said.

“Grab a burger after work, come home late.”

“Look Denise…” Harry began.

“Do it.” Denise interrupted. “Trust me babe, I think you will be glad you did.”

“I love you.” Harry said hoping he didn’t sound as forlorn as he felt.

“Love you!” Denise said cheerfully.

That night Harry entered the apartment like he was scouting enemy territory. He felt uneasy, unsure about what Denise had in mind, how she might try to change him. He wasn’t sure what she was thinking or how it would affect him.

When he opened the door he was met by the flickering light of candles scattered all over the apartment.

“Hello?” Harry called out tentatively. There was no answer. “Denise?” he called out. There was silence. Cautiously Harry approached the bedroom. He looked in with surprise.

Denise sat comfortably on pillows arranged on the bed, muscles relaxed mouth slack. He remembered what she had told him, she started in hypnosis hypnotizing herself. Harry wondered if that was how he looked when he was under. On the bureau was a folded piece of paper. “Read me out loud” was written across it in Denise’s hand.

Harry unfolded the paper. He looked at Denise as a slow impossibly wide smile bloomed across his face. He felt a sudden rush of emotion. How could he have doubted her, he loved her so.

Still smiling, in a clear smooth voice Harry began to read. “Denise, I chain you to me, not with chains of iron or steel, chains of shame or chains of pain. I chain you Denise, with chains of gossamer, chains of silk, chains of love…

Harry was so in love with Denise, so grateful to her, so happy, that he didn’t notice how hot he felt, or how exhausted he was by the time he finished reading.

Harry found himself rather amused by how bewildered Denise was at the way her mother took over planning the wedding. Denise, who had never thought to get married, wanted a simple service at city hall. Her mother, however, had other ideas. Denise had to endure the fittings, food tasting and photographer picking that came with a wedding. And so, Denise, she who swore she would never settle down, found herself the central attraction at a traditional wedding. She even wore a traditional white dress, which, of course made people to talk. But then, people always liked to talk about Denise. The thing that made the most tongues wag, however, was Denise’s bizarre insistence that she throw her bouquet from inside the coat check room…

And so THEY LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER…

…for three months. It was a clear crisp autumn day when it happened. It was a different type of metal, roughly the size and shape of a pea and had started out on the floor of a Chinese factory as part of the housing of a Chinese grenade; on that perfect fall day, against all the odds and the assurances of doctors, it moved—precisely one eighth of an inch.

Denise bore her loss well, everyone agreed, perhaps even too well, laughing, joking and even flirting at Harry’s wake and funeral. It made people talk, but then, people always liked to talk about Denise. The old Denise was back they all agreed. That was why everyone was so surprised when, six months to the day of her wedding, Denise finished her shift at work early, went home to the apartment she and Harry had shared, and quietly—committed suicide.

Kenny brought three things home from Viet Nam. The first two were made of metal.

One was actually three things, two screws and a metal plate holding his right elbow together. Kenny had gone out to celebrate the arrival of his DEROS date, gotten drunk, fallen and landed on the only really substantial part of the hooch he was in; the two concrete steps leading up to it. It meant more than just the pain, hardware and a hospital stay. It meant an end to the very realistic dream he had harbored since childhood of a career in professional tennis; as well as the end of the tennis scholarship he had literally been promised. The second was a different type of metal. It had started out on the floor of a Chinese factory and was a Chicom 7.62 Tokarev pistol. Kenny bought it off an Australian in a bar. It wasn’t that Kenny didn’t see action. In his primary role as a helicopter door gunner he had shot and been shot at more times than he cared to think of, he just wasn’t able to pick up anything.

The third thing was more profound. As he time in-country went on Kenny became aware of a growing feeling mated to his fear as he leaned out of the helicopter, waiting for the shot he would never hear as it ended his life. This blossoming feeling was with him along with the boredom in guard duty in stinking rice paddies, but he couldn’t put a name to it. That is, until he returned home. He arrived at SeaTac late and was enjoying roaming the near empty airport when he caught sight of a vision. She was tall and slender; her pin straight hair was bound back by a macramé headband which matched the belt on her bell bottoms. Her unfettered breasts bounced under a loose colorful peasant top. Kenny smiled at her hopefully. She walked up to him and carefully spit on his brightly polished shoes. “Baby-killer!” She hissed. At that moment, Kenny finally gave a name to that third gift. It was anger, no more, a choking—suffocating—throbbing RAGE aimed squarely at every human being who had the fucking…unbelievable…nerve… to be alive.