The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The next evening found me at home when a knock on the door revealed itself to be Myrna, inviting me over to her apartment for dinner. As I hadn’t had a chance to do my usual weekend shopping, this was a welcome invitation.

As it turned out, Myrna was not a great cook. The meal wasn’t inedible or anything, just bland and boring. Maybe it was an omen for the rest of the evening.

After dinner, we talked awhile and began to discover that we had absolutely no interests in common. No problem, I thought, we weren’t dating, just fucking. At least, that’s what I had told her we were to each other.

The sex was as disappointing as the food. I came in her but not once was I able to get her to come. And this is unusual for me—I think that was the first time I’d ever failed to satisfy a woman. Unless they were faking, I suppose. I mean, I’ve seen “When Harry Met Sally”, haven’t you?

Afterwards was a little awkward. She was clearly disappointed, I could see it on her face.

“Sorry,” I said.

“That’s okay. I guess it can’t be earth-shattering every time.”

I left her with a frown on her face.

It was an odd few weeks. Having regular sex was nice, even if it wasn’t very good—repeatedly disappointing Myrna got old pretty quick. But our conversations were odd. Sometimes she’d be bubbly and bright, other times withdrawn—moody.

At the end of it, I met her for lunch during work and, basically, she dumped me.

She met me with a hug and we sat down to look over our menus.

After ordering, I said to her, “So, why did you want to have lunch?”

She sighed, “Daniel, it’s just not working anymore between us. We’ve been seeing each other for what, two years?”

“Sounds about right.” Give or take a year and three quarters.

“In the beginning the sex was great, you know that. And I’ll never forget that one afternoon on your couch. That was…”

Her eyes went a little glassy and she slumped in her seat.

“Well!” she started. “I’ll never forget any of our time together. Except maybe these last few weeks.”

Yeah, that made me feel great. All she’d remember of me was the drug-induced orgasms and the false memories.

“You’re just not that interesting to me anymore,” she continued. “Frankly, I’m not sure what I ever saw in you in the first place.”

That stung a little, even if it was totally true. I think it was the undertone of bitterness that was starting to peek through in her voice. At heart, I think Myrna was a bitter, unhappy person.

I couldn’t say I was crushed. It was something of a relief. She bored me, outside of bed and in, and I know the same was true for her. And I think I still had a little residual guilt in there somewhere about the way we had “met”.

She left me with a short hug and I went back to work.

That very afternoon, I got a call.

“This is Daniel Thompson,” I answered the phone.

“Hi, Daniel.”

It took me a couple of seconds to place the voice.

“Krista?”

“Yes, how are you?”

“Wow. I’m doing okay, how about you? Have you found a new place to stay?”

“Yes, I got a little apartment here in the city. I wondered if you’d like to have lunch with me sometime.”

I paused. “You mean, here – in this city?”

A worried note crept into her voice. “Yes, that’s okay isn’t it?”

“What do you mean? Are you stalking me or something?”

“I guess maybe you could say that,” she laughed. “I’ve nothing to do with my life now. You know, of course, I had hoped you could accept me and, maybe, learn to like me.”

“I do like you, Krista.”

“Well, anyway,” she continued, “I thought I might as well get a place near you in case you changed your mind. I won’t be a nuisance. If you never want to see me again, all you have to do is say so. But I hope you won’t.”

I thought about it for a second or two.

“No,” I eventually said, “I don’t want that. Are you free tomorrow, around 11?”

“I will always be free for you,” she said. “See you then.”

The rest of the day my thoughts were distracted. I kept flashing on Krista. Krista, standing so close to me in my room at the estate. Krista, so sad yet strong somehow at my grandfather’s funeral. Krista, beaten and bleeding on my bed in my drug-induced hallucination.

Krista, having sex with my grandfather.

It wasn’t easy getting over that one.

Seeing her again was like a kick in the pants. It got my blood flowing again when I hadn’t even realized how just a few weeks with Myrna had slowed it. Krista felt like the Mercedes to my Dantes, in that she was beautiful and pure and yet had unknowingly and unmaliciously betrayed me.

In the parking lot, she waited for me. Standing by her car (a brand new Jaguar, nice) in a flowery sundress, she appeared a lovely, wholesome girl, untouched by the years of what a part of me thought of as whoredom. The beauty was as plain in her eyes as it was in her face, and her hair, and her slender body.

She smiled as I stood, looking her over.

Eventually she spoke, “It’s good to see you again, Daniel.”

“You too. You are as lovely as I remember. More lovely, actually.”

“Thank you.”

“Shall we?” I offered my arm to her and escorted her into the burger joint.

After placing our orders (two-thirds pounder for me, grilled chicken salad for her), we chose a booth near the door with torn-up vinyl. There was old grease splatter on the chrome napkin dispenser and coffee stains on the linoleum table top.

“Nice place,” she commented wryly.

“No, it’s not. But the food is good.”

“What’s new in your life?” she asked.

“Not much, you? How does it feel to be a multi-millionaire?”

She frowned. “I hope you’re not still upset about your inheritance. Have you…done any experimenting?”

“No, no, I’m not upset. Yes, I’ve experimented a little and I will have to admit that what he left me is quite, quite valuable. Dangerous too. In fact, I think I wish he hadn’t left it to me.”

She looked at me appraisingly. “Mr. Brooks would be glad to hear you say that, I think. He wasn’t exactly happy with some of the things he did with…well…with his legacy. How far did you go?”

A flush came over me and I looked down at the table. Just then, our order was called, giving me an excuse to get up.

I set myself and our food down and dug in.

“To answer your question,” I finally said, “’too far’. I did something I’m not happy about.”

“I see,” she said.

“And I’ve poured the stuff down the drain and hidden the notebook from myself.”

I thought she might be displeased but she only nodded.

“This is a very good salad,” she said. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

“You’re welcome.”

“And to answer your question,” she said, “being a multi-millionaire is nice. But something of a come down after living with a billionaire.” There was that wry smile again.

“I’m enjoying seeing this city though. I’ve never been before.”

“Which brings up a question,” I said. “What are your plans now that you’re here? Did you really come here just because I’m here?”

She shrugged. “Of course. Before he died, Mr. Brooks gave meaning to my life. I know what he did to me, I know it was sort of like kidnapping.”

“Or mind-rape,” I interjected.

“Yes, that’s probably a good term for it.” She took a sip of her water before continuing, “But none of that ever mattered. What mattered was that I was happy! Happier than I’d ever been before in my life. Most people live their lives, doing this and doing that. Some are happy, many are not. But few of their lives have a sense of purpose. I had a purpose. I wasn’t saving the world or anything but, to me, what I was doing was all that mattered. All that was important in my world.

“That’s all gone now. The party’s over, the lights are out, and everyone’s gotten out of the pool.”

“The fat lady’s sung,” I put in.

She didn’t smile. In fact, when she looked up again, there was a deep pain in her eyes. A tear leaked out. “I’m so lost now, Daniel. I’m afraid that, if…well, if you…I mean, I’m afraid I might whither up and die.”

What do you say to that? I didn’t say anything.

Eventually, I got our conversation back on lighter things by asking, “How do you like your Jaguar?”

Krista smiled again. “It’s fun. I haven’t driven much since going to work for Mr. Brooks. Refreshing, in a way. Scary too – especially the freeways.”

We talked of nothing else important and eventually cleaned up our trash and made our way out. I escorted her to her Jag and said, “I’m glad you called, Krista.”

“I’m glad you’re glad,” she said. Then she hugged me. God, that felt nice. I wanted to take her home right then.

Instead I said, “Why don’t we do this again. Call me next week, if you like.”

With that, sad face was gone and bright face was back on. “I will,” was all she said. Then she got in her car and drove away.