The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Lieutenant was somewhat limited in his manpower. He could call in a battalion from the garrison to scour the castle for the queen. But, he knew that soldiers entering the castle would cause a panic. Rumors would be flying fast enough with the servants sent from the castle for a second straight day. It was essential he find the queen with what he had.

He decided that his best plan was to post two men at each stairway landing, and send a single patrol of a half-dozen men to search every room in the castle, top to bottom. The queen undoubtedly had some secret places about. But if he could keep Gabrielle from moving upward or downward inside the castle, those secret places would be found, in time.

So it was that there were just two Guardsmen on the castle’s second level, in the west stairwell, when a woman in servant’s clothes entered the hallway. She had come from nowhere, it seemed, and she moved gingerly, as though unsure where she was going next.

They were good men, trained and disciplined, and they had been given orders not to leave their posts. Once we see the queen, she is caught, the Lieutenant had said. But if you chase her, it opens a hole in our net that she might be able to circle back to and slip through. However, they had not been given any orders about speaking, so the more senior of the two men shouted, “Halt in the name of the Crown!”

The woman, though she did not look to be older than twenty, gave a laugh that sounded slightly unhinged. They could see flecks of blood on her face and clothes. “I am the Crown,” she said, “and I think it prefers that I keep moving.”

The men looked at each other. They couldn’t see the gray eyes of de Vess from this distance, but the implications of that statement were rather obvious. “Your Majesty,” the senior man said, “we’ve been searching this castle for you.”

“I wish to speak to the Lieutenant,” Gabrielle said. “Alone. Tell no one but him.”

“Ah, Your Majesty—“

“I wish no violence,” Gabrielle went on, “and if he does not believe this, he can stand at the end of the hall, as you do. You will fetch him, and he will speak to me, for as long as I still have the throne.”

The two men looked at each other. The younger one whispered, “Is she not still queen?”

“Council doesn’t seem to think so,” the senior man whispered back.

“They haven’t decreed anything,” the younger man said. “I think she still gives the orders around here.”

“Fine,” the older man said. “You go get him. I’m not going to end up in a dungeon over this.”

Angela still sat at the table, unmoved from the same spot for at least half a day. The candle flame had burned halfway down. “Gabby needs me,” she said to the flame.

“We tried all of the things we learned by watching you,” Cethe said, trying to whisper but, in his near-panic, not quite getting there. “She’s not going deeper!”

Cian glanced at Cu, who was arranging Percy Runier’s body into a seated position in the corner. As Gabrielle had been that first day, he was not asleep, but he was so deeply relaxed that he did not protest if his limbs were moved for him. At least one of theese two is properly doing his duty, Cian thought.

“When the drug wears off, she’s going to kill us all!” Cethe hissed.

Cian turned his attention back to the youngest of their brood. He had always been concerned about having Cethe within a mile of this duty. Hypnotizing Angela was the most dangerous part of the plan; her entire life revolved around never relaxing, never trusting, never letting go completely. In Cian’s original plan, made before Prudence had arrived, he had hoped to control Gabrielle so completely that this would not be necessary at all. But with Cian needed in too many places at once, there had been no choice but to hope Cethe would be up to the duty.

“Look at her,” Cian whispered, using all of his willpower to keep from adding, you fucking moron. “She is relaxed, staring at a candle flame, repeating a mantra. She is doing all of the work for you!”

Cethe stared at him. “But ... she’s not relaxed—“

Cian pulled Cethe aside, arm looped around the younger man’s neck in what might have seemed like a brotherly gesture. In truth, Cian was doing all he could to keep that arm from strangling. “Listen to me,” he said into Cethe’s ear. “Her arms are not tied. The fact that we are not dead right now ... that’s all of the relaxation that we need.”

“I don’t understand,” Cethe whispered.

“I know you don’t,” Cian said, again straining not to add various insults. “Watch and learn.”

(“You’re doing so well, Angela,” a voice said. Maybe it was a new voice? Didn’t matter. “So very relaxed.”)

(Angela did feel quite relaxed indeed, but something was not right about that, because she could never relax as long as)

Gabby needs me.

(“I understand, Angela,” the voice said. “Gabrielle needs you because she has been hypnotized.”)

(Something about that sounded familiar, though it was too much effort to recall. Angela could only let the word float through her mind.)

Hypnotized.

(“Yes, Angela,” the voice said. “Gabrielle needs you because she has been hypnotized. Who is hypnotizing her?”)

(She did not remember Prudence grabbing her wrist and saying, someone else is hypnotizing her. That conversation was outside the pleasant fog in which Angela now drifted. She tried to remember the answer to the question, but it was far too much effort.)

I. Don’t.

(“Shhh, Angela. Relax. Breathe deeply and watch the candle flame. You’ll find the name comes to you without even thinking about it. Who is hypnotizing her?”)

Prudence.

(“And what did you do, the last time Gabrielle needed you?”)

(So difficult to remember. So much easier to relax.)

I. I.

(“You’re doing so well, Angela. Let the words come to you. What did you do, the last time Gabrielle needed you?”)

(A boorish horse instructor, his romantic advances on the too-young queen rejected, swinging his reins like a whip at Gabrielle’s face. Seconds later, the reins wrapped around his throat, cutting off his air, until his legs stopped kicking.)

I killed him.

(“Yes, Angela. Gabrielle needs you because Prudence is hypnotizing her. What will you do?”)

Kill. I don’t. Prudence?

(“Shhhh, Angela. Let the candle flame soothe you. Let’s begin again.”)

When Gabrielle saw the thunderclouds on the Lieutenant’s face, there was a moment where she thought she was doomed. It was necessary to remind herself what was at stake. If you fail here, Prudence dies, and you get to live out your days as a maniac’s mouthpiece.

De Leon stood two yards distant from her, sword drawn, out of earshot from the two men at the stairwell, unless they began shouting at each other. “Tell me you didn’t kill the Captain,” he said, his voice low with controlled fury.

“I killed him,” Gabrielle said. “He gave me no choice.”

“If I can choose not to kill you now,” de Leon said, his tone clearly suggesting that he was struggling with that decision, “then you had a choice.”

Gabrielle shook her head. “That’s how Cian works,” she said. “He’s got this rubbish gift to make you think you have no choice but to do what he wants.”

“Cian?” the Lieutenant said. “You killed the Captain, yet I’m supposed to blame him?”

“Yes, Cian,” Gabrielle said. Feeling the tug in her mind, she hurried on, “Bloody rubbish that he is. He wanted the Captain on his side, and the Council, and now you. He’d never win a fight with me otherwise.”

“He isn’t fighting you,” de Leon said. “He blames the woman Prudence. Says she has an unholy grip on your mind.”

“I swear to you, it’s not true,” Gabrielle said. “The Captain was deceived, as you are being deceived now.”

“You could have defended yourself with words,” de Leon said. “Just as you are doing now. There was no need to kill him.”

“If I had not fought, I would have ended up in a cell,” Gabrielle said. “And if I ever land in a dungeon cell, I will not come out as myself. Cian will see to it.” This was the first time that day that she did not indulge the compulsion to claim that Cian was harmless rubbish, though in the moment she did not even realize.

“I don’t understand what you are saying,” de Leon said. “Cian has been talking to me, and to the Council, all day long. We are still ourselves.”

Are you? Gabrielle thought. Would “yourself” have looked so darkly upon your queen even one day ago?

At that moment, Gabrielle finally understood what she had to do. It would be dangerous, and it would not be pleasant (or perhaps it would be all too pleasant). But for Prudence’s life...

“Everything Cian claims Prudence has been doing to me, he was himself doing to me,” Gabrielle said. “And if you can keep me out of a dungeon for now, I shall show you how.”

Too many things to do, Cian thought as he returned to the Great Hall, and no one with my level of mastery to do them.

He’d been forced to leave Cethe and Cu with Angela and Percy Runier. It seemed that his brothers had finally understood the concept of using Angela’s training against her in trance, but she remained just resistant enough to give Cian pause. Even if Percy’s mind proved as easy to subvert as Cian suspected, the amount of time involved was not insignificant, and it seemed that Angela would require much more of it than expected.

After reporting that Lord Runier was “comfortable” with the questioning of Angela (which was true, in a manner of speaking), Cian observed the room. He found a lull in a squabble over possible replacements for the Captain, and broke in, “If I may, where is Lieutenant de Leon?”

“He’s overseeing the search for Queen Gabrielle, of course,” the Minster of Agriculture said.

“And again I must protest,” the Bishop said. “Either she is outlaw or she is queen, but you cannot have it have it both ways. To claim otherwise is a lie in the eyes of God.”

“Aye,” the seamstress’ representative said with contempt. “None know more about having it both ways than you!” And the squabbles began again.

Cian let them argue. As long as their petty disputes came from a place that accepted his framing of the overall problem, they could insult each other until the winter’s last snow melted, for all he cared.

He was planning how he would release Prudence after nightfall when the doors to the Great Hall were thrown open. Queen Gabrielle came walking in, de Leon beside her, like the answer to all Cian’s prayers.

The squabbles between the Council members and the assorted nobles ceased instantly. Cian noted that Gabrielle was dressed as a peasant and did not wear the crown. He also noted that the Captain’s blood had dried on her face and hands, and she’d not washed it off. That might be a useful detail to mention to the Council.

“My Queen!” He cried, feigning shock and dismay. “It’s so dangerous for you to be here! You’re not well!”

“Perhaps,” Gabrielle said, casting her eyes over the assembled crowd. “But I am still Queen, am I not?”

“The Captain of the Guard is dead!” The Bishop cried. “We must have an explanation for this!”

“Soft, soft,” Cian said, advancing on the queen. “I must examine her, to see if she is of any mind to tell her story.”

He stepped to within a few feet of Gabrielle. She forced herself to look at him. His eyes were not focused on her, precisely: they seemed to look through her, focused on a spot a foot or two behind her head. Watching his distant gaze caused her eyelids to relax, almost automatically.

“Gabrielle, look for your stars,” he said, soft enough that not even de Leon was sure what had been said.

Gabrielle’s vision blurred. Through the sheet of gray drifting over her vision, she could begin to make out pinpricks of light, in the shape of Cassiopeia.

The next five seconds seemed to stretch on forever.

In the hallway, away from the soldiers’ ears, Gabrielle had said something like this would happen. Cian will say something cryptic, or touch me, and I will act unlike myself. You could twist my ear and wake me up, but if you do, it will convince them that I have been bewitched, and they will ignore anything more that I have to say. Wait for me. That’s all you need do. Wait for me.

de Leon put his hand on his sword and waited.

(Gabrielle was in the round, dark room. Morphelia the cat was nowhere to be seen, nor was anyone else. She was alone, feeling the ropes tied to her wrists, elbows, ankles and knees pulling her into the air.)

(The stars were waiting for her, far above. It would be so pleasant to float in Cassiopeia’s glow, letting go of all concerns. The dangers inherent in doing so were far away. The collected nobles, de Leon, the events of earlier in the day… all had lost their importance. Her mind drifted to the last time she had been in this place, how peaceful it had been...)

(The last time.)

(Prudence had said something to her, that last time.)

This is your dream. You have all the power here. You are strong and you are loved. Confront him.

(At once she could feel it, in the grip of her hand like a tangible thing: the truth. He had been leading her into this place for years, making suggestions, guiding her will. Somehow the knowledge that it was all just words and drugs had been with her, but she had ignored it, disregarded it, been told that it would be easier to forget. Some part of her did not want these ropes to carry her away, and had never wanted it, but could only speak in the unclear language of dreams.)

(Until now.)

(She pulled on the ropes with all of her might and felt them dissipate. She had never been held as tightly as she thought, for a trance without trust was nothing but words. It welled inside her, the love she felt for the woman who had trusted her to understand the truth. And what was the truth? The name of the bastard who would destroy her love.)

CIAN!

The seer saw Gabrielle’s eyes turn into gray glass. She swayed on her feet, and her shoulders dropped just enough for him to know that it was all over.

He turned from her, ready to claim the Council as his own in every way that mattered. “My Lords,” he said, “I’m afraid that—“

“Cian,” her voice snarled behind him.

Cian spun on his heels, aware on some level that showing panic could give his game away, but at the same time too shocked to stop himself. The queen was no longer unsteady on her feet, her shoulders were thrown back, and she was drawn up to her full height. And ah, God, her gaze was the worst of it. The gray eyes of de Vess gleamed with more fury than he had imagined her capable. He saw his death in that stare, bright and gray, the sunlight reflecting off of a guillotine blade.

He broke in that moment, his posture collapsing, seeming to retreat from her fury without even realizing it. The subtle hold he had been establishing over the Council broke as well: every person in the room saw him recoil and realized that the apparently harmless Seer had been carrying himself like royalty all day long, and that Percy Runier’s half-hearted challenge should perhaps have had their support. A shiver went up de Leon’s spine that he would remember for the remainder of his life.

Gabrielle stepped forward and drove the heel of her hand into Cian’s chest. She was supposed to hit his solar plexus, taking his breath from him and turning his legs into jelly. Exhausted as she was, she missed the perfect strike, but she drove him back a step, which caused him to trip over the hem of his robe and sprawl onto his rump.

Gabrielle looked at him, seeing his terror, drinking it in like fine wine. Then she turned her attention to the gathered crowd. “Vessians,” she said, and all gathered would agree that she did not sound like the same woman who had delivered the coronation speech. “Your Captain of the Guard is dead, and I did kill him.”

A ripple from the crowd, including a few audibly shocked gasps.

“But he is not the only one to die today,” the queen went on. “One of my servants, a young woman named Rose, perished as well. She died for the same reason that the Captain did: because that man” — she pointed an accusatory finger at the fallen Seer — “used them in an attempt to convince you that my mind was too damaged to wear the Crown.”

“The truth is,” and only at this moment did her voice waver slightly, as emotions which were unclear to the assembled crowd passed over her face. “The truth is that my mother’s death left me in a dark place, unable to see the way forward, unsure of how well I would serve as your Queen.”

“Two people found me in the night time of my soul,” Gabrielle said. “The woman Prudence offered me help and guidance, understanding when I was and where I could go. Cian wanted nothing more than to chain me in place and keep me asleep in the dark forever.”

Gabrielle stepped past where Cian lay and moved down the steps, to stand alongside the throne. “Cian’s story is convincing,” she said. “He convinced Rose and the Captain both, to a point that they lost their lives. He would convince every one of you that the entire kingdom is doomed if I were not locked away. But I swear to you, with every ounce of conviction that my mother left me, he is deceiving you.”

Gabrielle spread her hands wide. “I am here, unarmed. The Lieutenant has a cell set aside. You have heard the Seers’ story, and mine. If you believe what Cian has told you this day, say the word, and I shall take my cell with no complaint. But I know, from experience, that Cian can only lead you deeper into the dark. If you believe me, follow my lead into daylight.”

It was never known who spoke next. It was a male voice, but then, most of the assembled group were men. Later dozens of men, including many who were not in the room that day, would take credit for throwing a fist into the air and bellowing:

“ALL HAIL THE LADY OF THE MORNING!”

“ALL HAIL!” The crowd shouted back. Not all of them shouted, but the vast majority did, and none put up a dissenting word. Most important of all, Gabrielle heard the Lieutenant shout the words behind her, which finally allowed her to feel safe.

“Lieutenant de Leon,” she called, turning to face him. “You are now the Captain of the Guard.”

“My queen,” he said, bowing his head.

“Your first action as Captain will be to free Prudence Savigne from the dungeon,” Gabrielle said.

“Begging your pardon, Your Majesty,” de Leon said, “But to my knowledge, Can has the key to her cell.”

Gabrielle advanced on Cian. He made no move to get up from where he had fallen, but Gabrielle saw his face change somewhat. She knew that he was calculating, and she could guess what those calculations would be about. “The key,” she said.

“I seem to have misplaced it,” Cian said, with enough mischief in his tone that Gabrielle could have happily strangled him.

She stepped closer, so that she could look down on him from her full height. In truth she ought never stand so close to a prisoner, but she rather wanted him to fight back. She would have taken pleasure in hearing his bones break. “You have lost. There is nothing left to negotiate for.”

“There’s my life, isn’t there?” Cian said, just as she’d known he would. “Mine and my brothers.”

“I will gather a squad and pull that door off of its hinges with chains,” Gabrielle said. “She’s coming out of that cell no matter what you say.”

“Better get to it, then,” Cian said. “I expect it can get quite cold in there after dark.”

Gabrielle looked at de Leon and nodded. As the new Captain went to gather his men, Gabrielle crouched down, bringing her eyes closer to Cian’s level. “I’m going to ask you one question,” she said. “The slower you answer it, the slower you die. Where is Angela?”

“She’s with my brothers,” Cian said, “and they are expecting me. When they see you, with soldiers but without me, they will kill her and Percy Runier both.”

It was possible he was bluffing. Despite breaking through the trance a few moments before, she couldn’t remember anything she’d told him under hypnosis, so it was possible he knew more about how she would handle this sort of situation than she did. Even if it was a bluff, she could not call it. “What do you want?”

“Exile,” he said. “My brothers and I, we leave the kingdom alive and never return.”

“No harm will come to any Seers until I am sure Angela is safe,” Gabrielle said.

“Not good enough,” Cian said. “We must be allowed to leave the kingdom safely.”

“When I have seen her alive, we will negotiate,” Gabrielle said. “And you shall be thankful that I don’t kill you with my bare hands right now.”

They were not in the Seers’ tower. Gabrielle had expected this, as the Tower would have been the first place anyone suspicious of the Seers would have searched. But she was surprised at how deep into the city Cian took them.

Gabrielle rode in a cart with de Leon and Cian. About half of the castle’s garrison marched with them, while the other half devised a way to break down the door to Prudence’s cell in the dungeon. Cian, weaselly son of a bitch that he was, claimed to have never had that key to begin with.

“Here,” Cian said, pointing at a two-story establishment whose signage claimed to be a pub. “No drinking has gone on in that building for at least two years. We bought it from the previous owner, to use in situations like this one.”

“Quite the amount of planning went into this,” Gabrielle said pointedly, as de Leon and his soldiers cleared away innocent bystanders and surrounded the building.

“Tell me something,” Cian said. “While I am still one of your subjects.”

Gabrielle gave him a dark look, but did not refuse.

“How did you resist me, today?”

Gabrielle looked away from his gaze. “You only tried to control me. Prudence tried to understand me. When the two came into conflict, you were easy to ignore.”

Whatever Cian might have said next was drowned out by de Leon’s shout. “You, in the pub! The Guard has the building surrounded! Throw down your arms and desist, in the name of the Crown!”

“Well, that’s never going to work,” Cian said conversationally.

“Show me that she is alive,” Gabrielle said. “Then we talk.”

They stepped down out of the carriage and approached the building. Standing perhaps six feet from the door, Cian called out words in a strange language that Gabrielle had never heard before. He looked at Gabrielle and said, “Welsh. Did you even know that we were Welsh?”

Gabrielle, who had not known, said nothing.

More Welsh was exchanged between Cian and a disembodied voice from within the pub. Finally, the front door opened and Angela stepped out. She was dressed in a Seers’ robe that was too big for her, with the hood throwing everything but her lips and chin into shadow. Still, that humorless, straight-line mouth told Gabrielle that it was indeed Angela, and this was no trick.

“She’s completely in our thrall,” Cian said, in that same maddening conversational tone. “But I suspect she’ll answer your questions.”

“Angela,” Gabrielle said. “Can you hear me?”

The hooded head moved up and down.

“Angela,” Gabrielle said. “Yesterday’s storms become today’s sunshine.”

The mouth quivered. The hood cocked slightly. Then Angela turned and went back into the pub, closing the door behind her.

Cian, glancing at the overcast skies, said, “What was that?”

Gabrielle turned back to him, and the gray eyes were gleaming with fury again. “Completely in our thrall,” she said, repeating his own words back to him with contempt. “You must take me to be an imbecile.”

“What—“ Cian began, but before he could finish, Gabrielle interrupted him.

“Ever since Angela and I were children,” Gabrielle said, her voice cold, “my mother feared that one of us would be taken and used as hostage against the other. We developed a code, for situations just like this one, that we have been practicing since we were little. During my final time under your spell, I realized that her bond with me could be like hypnosis in its own way.”

There was a smashing sound from within the pub. A table, or perhaps a chair, being destroyed by a heavy impact. A man screamed, shrill and high-pitched. More than one soldier present shuddered, having never heard a man scream like that in his life.

“Hold your men, Captain,” Gabrielle announced, her palm flat in a stop sign. “I have an agent in the pub who is controlling the problem.”

“What have you done?” Cian whispered.

“I suggested to Angela that I was safe and not being coerced,” Gabrielle said. “Thus freeing her to do her duty.”

Cian broke for the door of the pub. After barking commands for de Leon and his men to hold their positions, Gabrielle followed him at a more leisurely pace.

The carnage was on the second floor. It appeared that Angela had smashed the chair she had been sitting in, and had used the chair legs as weapons to lethal effect. When Gabrielle arrived in the room, Cian was turned away from the ruin that was Cu’s face, gagging. Percy Runier sat in a corner of the room, forehead resting on his knees, apparently oblivious to what had happened. Cethe lay in the corner opposite Percy, in a vast pool of blood, mercifully facedown. Angela stood in the middle of the room, her bare feet red to the calves, holding a gory chair leg in one hand, trying to get her breathing under control.

“Angela,” Gabrielle said, making no move to approach her dearest friend. “Are you all right?”

“I’m not hurt,” Angela said. “But you should keep Prudence away from me. I hear a voice in my head, telling me to kill her. I think I can resist it, but ...” Angela blushed, clearly embarrassed that the Seers had gotten into her mind so easily. “It’s quite persuasive.”

“I understand,” Gabrielle said. “She’s not here.”

“How could you?” Cian said, still facing the floor, his voice ruined by despair and the act of vomiting. “I took your word! You said we would negotiate!”

“Look at me,” Gabrielle commanded. Weakly, Cian raised his head to do so. When he did, he cringed despite himself.

He saw what the nobles had seen hours before: her eyes fiery through the gray, as the sunrise parts the morning mist. But it was not a beautiful sunrise that he saw in her eyes, no promise of a new day’s hope. In that moment, the gaze of the Lady of the Morning was the final signal received by men condemned to hang at dawn.

Cian looked into those eyes and began to sob. His bladder and sphincter let go.

“This is how it feels,” Gabrielle de Vess said. “To have your world on such sure footing, to feel safe and confident in your choices, only to find that someone else was pulling your strings all along. This is how it feels to lose control, to know that everyone you care about could die because of it. My pain, my horror, my dread: these are my gift to you, on the day of your execution.”

Gabrielle walked across the room, to help Percy to his feet. He was not unconscious, but neither did conscious seem the right word to describe his state of mind. His legs were rubbery and he probably could not have stood on his own. “Can you hear me, Percy? It’s Gabrielle.”

“Gabrielle,” he muttered, not raising his head to look at her.

“Angela saved your life, Percy,” Gabrielle said into his ear. “You should have more respect for her. No one else in the kingdom can do what Angela does.”

“Angela,” Percy said.

Gabrielle helped him across the blood-slick floor, and paused at the top of the stairs. She gave Angela a look. “There’s no hurry,” the queen said.

Angela waited until she heard them make it into the pub’s doorway, waited until she could hear the queen barking instructions to the soldiers outside. Then she walked over to where Cian was sitting in his brothers’ blood and his own filth.

Cian saw her coming, and knew the look in her eye for what it was, but he was in shock. He could not remember any of what he had tried to plant in her mind. Even if he could remember, his confidence in those suggestions was shattered, and as Prudence had once told herself on a bright fall afternoon, hypnosis is all about confidence.

“Would you like me to read your fortune, sir?” Angela said, raising the broken chair leg. Cian made no effort to escape. “The signs are quite clear.”

The reading went on for some time.