The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Leftenant Justin Jameson was woken from a deep sleep by military police. He was taken, still in his boxers and T-shirt to a small room. The room, like all of them on his boat, a Royal Navy nuclear submarine, was cramped, formed out of metal plate, and utilitarian. There was a metal table, with a water pitcher,and a set of tumblers. He sat in one chair, his wrists manacled to a ring on the side of the table, which was bolted to the floor. In the other chair was a woman looking through a briefcase. She was average height, dressed in a sharp business pantsuit. The suit was professional but the shirt was unbuttoned half way and when the angle was right he could see part of a flower tattoo and an amount of cleavage that did not mesh with the rest of her serious image. Scanning above the collar of her top, was a beautiful face which featured striking high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes. Her hair was dark brown and fell in curls to her shoulders and beyond. After a few moments of silence, she looked up and smiled warmly.

“Good Evening. I’ve asked your captain to arrange our little chat. I am sorry they woke you. We usually don’t use sleep deprivation tactics for first interviews, but my schedule is tight. I am Patrice Peel, I am with the government.”

“What’s this about? I haven’t done anything illegal. Also, what’s that smell?”

She pointed to a small black cauldron on a wall shelf which held a blackened bundle of leaves. “That’s just sage, I didn’t want any negativity from the last interview to interfere with us.” She had reached over and grasped his arm as she said “us”

Lt. Jameson looked at her as if she should be the one bound to the table. “You can’t burn smoke bombs on a submarine, especially not when submerged! Who are you? I can’t believe the government would send someone so careless!”

Her smile disappeared in an instant. Her face suddenly looked like it had never smiled before. She shifted back in her seat, and a moment later a foot appeared between his legs. It was a foot wearing a stiletto heel. She pressed him painfully.

“No. . . never careless. I have many people directly under me. I am the one that keeps them safe, cares for them. I have the power I have because I am skilled and creative in ways that you don’t have the knowledge to judge. Everything you believe about me is something I want you to believe.” Her smile slowly returned and she withdrew her leg, before drawing blood. She spoke barely above a whisper, “You are here to answer my questions. That should be painless. Just listen closely. Listen almost like your career hung on each of my words. Then simply respond to my voice. You don’t need to think hard about each answer. You know the answers already. All you have to do is pay close attention to what I want and then give me. . . what I want.”

She went on to ask many questions. Jameson tried to piece together what they wanted by the focus of the questions, but there was no focus. She grilled him on his college roommate, the fire onboard months ago where he had to drag that unconscious seaman out of the compartment before he died of smoke inhalation. They spent what must have been an hour talking about his uncle who worked in China. Then she started grilling him with questions so trivial, things they had to know already, things that could not mean anything. Was his first car a Honda? Yes. Was that his real hair color? Yes. Was his blood O—? Yes. “Yes, Yes, Yes, whatever.”, he thought. The night was beginning to catch up with him. After a while he noticed he didn’t even remember the last five or six questions he had answered.

Trixie giggled, apropos of nothing and gave him a gentle smile. She took two cigars out of her case, offering one to the sailor. “Did you know, the Native Americans used tobacco as a medicine. Not the awful genetically modified poison that modern corporations sell, making money from the addictions of their customers. Although. . . perhaps if the addiction were not so unhealthy. . . I digress. This is heirloom tobacco, a friend of mine in America sends me some, grown with respect like it should be. Among the native people itwas a traditional gift for guests. They would use ceremonial pipes, but I don’t think one of those would survive my lifestyle.”

Lt. Jameson glaring still said, “You don’t look native American.”

“I am not. You don’t look stupid enough to speak to a superior in that tone.”

“You aren’t military.”

“My superiority has nothing to do with rank.”, her hand with one cigar was still extended.

“You can’t smoke on this boat, or any other British Naval ship.”

“Let’s see.” She unwrapped a cigar, snipped the end and called out, “Captain.”

After perhaps 20 seconds, the hatch opened and the Captain stepped in. “How may I be of service, Miss Rigg?” She wordlessly indicated the cigar.

“Ah.”, he said as he went into a pocket and brought out a matchbox. He then lit her cigar. She took a few puffs and looked at her subject with a gloating smile. “That will be all, Bruce.” With that the Captain tipped his cap, and left.

The sailor looked down into his lap, “Ok, you’ve made your point.”

“Have I?”

“Why am I here? I haven’t done anything. I am a good officer with a clean record. You can ask the Captain.”

“To listen, and follow orders.”, in a breathy whisper. “Why do you think I am accusing you of anything?

The Leftenant rattled his chains.

Trixie puffed on her cigar, then with a dead serious look on her face said, “Maybe that’s just how I like you.”

The officer then asked to have a legal advocate with him during questioning. His captor indicated that as she saw it, he did not have any legal rights, as much as he could have some privileges if she decided he deserved them. She walked slowly around the table before lifting herself up to sit on it. She slid over until she could use the arms of his chair as footrests.

“We are not on a navy ship anymore. In fact, you are now in my Queendom, and I am your benevolent ruler, Queen Patrice the 1st. You have nothing to fear. My subjects are happy and well cared for. I will be your advocate, prosecutor if necessary, and employer. I think you are beginning to grasp your situation. This is not a legal proceeding as you understand it, but you know in your heart that I am the authority here. I can sit here, within reach of your bound arms and be safe. You know that while you are physically capable of grabbing me by the neck and squeezing the life out of me with your strong hands, that it is not REALLY an option. Even after I had you roused, detained, chained nearly naked at my feet, or maybe because I was able to do all that, without any sign of rank or office, you wouldn’t lift a finger to harm me. “

She giggled, “What a charming expression you have on your face. You seem to be looking at a fierce dog you met in an alley, trying to figure out if that dog is mad. Grrrrr. That is very astute. I am as sane as a fox, but you are correct to sense that I am dangerous. You have also correctly intuited your place in the local food chain.” She sighed and reached down to caress his cheek. He flinched away. She just held completely still and patient. Her breathing, calm and even. Perhaps a full minute passed like this until he relaxed back into position and she continued the motion as if there had been no interruption.

“That’s right. I won’t hurt you, as long as you stay calm and don’t try to fight me.” She ran her fingers through his short-cut hair. “There you are, doesn’t that feel much better?” I am not here to punish you, not today. You are a good officer, and a very capable man. Sadly, your military training is a mixed blessing. You are programmed to recognize and unquestioningly obey authority, but they also teach you to remain calm when threatened . . . or when confronted by the unusual. All the drama I have to go through to knock a man like you off balance. Poor thing. I should have just had you tranquilized and collared, but I think I enjoy the theater too much.”

Slowly and gently she moved to kneel above him, a leg on either side of his on the seat, she rose up a good foot and a half above his head. She held his head, pulled back by her grip on his hair. His hands came up to hold her on each side of her hips, then hesitated.

“Well? You have your hands on me, without my permission. . .” She pulled harder on his hair and placed her other hand on his exposed throat as she said the last. “I don’t care what you plan to do with those hands, remove them.” He winced at the pain in his scalp and removed his hands.

She eyed him, up and down, before speaking. “You made the right decision. We both know you are confused and anxious. I bet you don’t realize how much you are enjoying it.”

“If you aren’t here to arrest me or interrogate me, then PLEASE remove these shackles.”

Patrice’s eyes lit up. “Excellent.” She climbed down from the chair and leaned against the table’s edge an arm’s length to the side. “You adapt so well. That is the proper attitude, and will be rewarded.” She turned and walked to the shelf, retrieving her keys.

“You should be free to make one last, life changing decision. I will release you from your restraints. You will be free to stand and leave, without punishment. If you do, you will never know who I really was, or what my plans for you were. You’ll never see me again, and no one on the ship will even admit that any of this happened. Or you can remain seated, and continue with our business, and my pleasure.”

She removed the shackles with an efficient, practiced motion. She turned and walked away slowly embellishing each sway of her hips. The smile on her lips told how this was always her favorite part. Justin stood abruptly, stretched his legs, and hurriedly stepped to the hatch and left the chamber.

“Bollocks!”, Trixie said as she fell into her own chair. “I hate when I have to do this the dull way. Drugs, sleep deprivation, where’s the art?” She took a flask out of her case and took a swallow of the mojito within. It was still cool. She started working on her revised plan. After a few moments she heard the hatch reopen and footsteps approach. Justin sat in the other chair and placed a mug on the table.

“The trip to the head was required, so was the coffee if you want me to stay conscious.”

“That is not necessary, or even ideal, Leftenant.”

“Why am I here? Why do you play at being crazy? Or is it serious crazy?”

(Smiling) “I love it when you’re forceful. Not with me, never with me, but I will fix that as part of your education.”

He raised an eyebrow and took a draft of his coffee.

“I am with the government, just not yours. I haven’t lied to you. I don’t lie. Often people misremember what I said, or even things I did, but I set them right. I AM the government. I could be your government. I am already your captain’s Sovereign, and he recommends you. I need a navy, being an island nation, so I am recruiting one.”

“You are crazy, The captain is a loyal British Officer. . .”

“Silence.”

Justin stopped, mouth still open wondering why he was letting her interrupt him . He shut his mouth as Queen Patrice I stood and walked behind him. He had lost his train of thought as it was steaming away from him on the horizon.

“A true gentleman. I asked you earlier to kindly stop talking and listen if I commanded you to be silent. I asked twice and you said yes both times. It works best when you aren’t aware of it. I will have installed better countermeasures by the time they’re needed.”

She stood behind him rubbing his scalp with her hands. His face showed surprise at first, then enjoyment. “I asked you about the way you lose track of time when a lady massages you like this, too. The way you get lost in listening to her as time flies by. You agreed to that 3 times so it must be true.”

She sighed. Justin wondered when that had been. Wouldn’t he remember such an odd bit of conversation? But then she began speaking again and he wanted to be sure to not miss a word..

“Getting lost doesn’t mean you don’t know how to get to the commissary from here. You know where here is. Here we are deep, deep below the surface of the North Sea. For other men this would be a disaster. You like to sink down beneath the waves where it’s still and dark. It doesn’t alarm you to go deeper down. You relax in the depths. It is peaceful in the deepest parts of the ocean of your own mind. Here where it’s too dark to see, you may as well close those eyes. Yes, that’s right. . . . . You navigate by sound. In the dark it’s easier to hear everything I say, to study the sound of my voice, identify every change of tone and rhythm. The deeper you go, the more you count on sound, the sound of MY voice. My voice guides you. I would like you to dive for me. Keep diving, in your mind keep watching the depth gages, the pressure gages. Keep diving as far as you can and tell me when you reach your bottom. You’re still getting lost as I run my hands through your hair. You haven’t lost your way, you’ve lost your self. . . you’ve misplaced the part of your mind that worries about things. You can’t seem to remember where you put the ability to make up your own mind. That’s. . . ok. When you are alone with me, you have no decisions to make. “

“You can always recognize this voice. This is my special voice for my subjects, my Queenly voice. It carries all the power of my office. It is the voice that you know you should obey. I am such a wise and kind ruler and when you’re lost like this you can’t possibly think for yourself. This voice always makes you feel like doing whatever I tell you to. I was mean to you before because it’s what you needed. You needed to know I was in charge. You needed convincing that I am untouchable. I have my crown and you cannot harm me. You would never even think of raising a hand against me or disrespecting me in any way. Even when I am not wearing a physical crown, you can see a crown of light around my head. It’s a visual sign of my special station in life. . . “

Justin’s sleepy voice interrupted with, “maximum depth reached.”

“Good subject. You are ready now for your orders.” She began to teach Justin all of his special commands and how to comply. She told him about the special files she was leaving him to listen to every night. Eventually she woke him. She gave him water, and sat down opposite him to talk.

“Are you feeling better now?”

“Yes, your majesty. I am not worried about you anymore. I felt you were a threat before, but now I know you’re here to give me an opportunity.”

“Not just an opportunity. A royal summons. In the old days, England had press gangs. They lurked by the docks and clubbed drunk sailors on the head. The poor sailor woke up halfway to India. I am not that barbaric. Concussions can cause serious brain damage. But all the same, you would never dream of disobeying my orders.”

Justin searched his mind. “No, I suppose not.”

“As I said, joining my fleet would mean a boat of your own. It wouldn’t be as big and fancy as this, because I have to shop used. My subjects at Deutsche Bank and Chase keep my treasury full, but many countries just won’t sell the best stuff unless you are an established ally. Being a neutral nation like Sinisteria, there won’t be much fighting, but defense is still a vital aspect of sovereignty.” She shook her head. “Sinisteria is a stupid name, but the king insisted and he is the one man I have trouble saying no to.”

“When will you return for me?”

“Whenever I wish. Until then you are on loan to the British Navy, serve them as you would me.” She took a small book out of her case and handed it to him. “This excellent volume gives excellent instructions on the techniques needed to serve a woman sexually. Too many men butcher the job, so learn this book backwards and forwards. Sometimes I reward my officers with special duties. When you go on leave, find some ladies and practice. I’ve highlighted several key passages.” She rose from her chair, and he rose and saluted. Trixie smiled and offered her hand. Justin kissed the ring on her finger. She packed her case and headed to the hatch, turning as she left, “But do be careful, if you catch anything contagious you will not be eligible for special duties, and you will be punished.”

Then she disappeared through the door. The Captain was on the other side waiting.

“One more?”

“Yes, Leftenant Jacob Paul, my men are gathering him up.”

“Good man?”

“Oh yes.”

“Fetish?”

“Maybe, when we talked about Stargate SG1, he said he liked the Hathor episodes.”

“Hathor?”

“Egyption goddess, controls men with her pheromones, great big breasts, tight outfits.”

“Ah, give me 10 minutes to change, grab my ankh pendant and splash on some Chanel.”

“Certainly, your majesty.”.