The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Krista didn’t call me for lunch on Monday. Instead, I called her for dinner.

From my place, I drove her in her Jag to a nice Italian restaurant I knew.

“Have you been here?” I asked.

“No, I don’t eat out, except with you. I’m a pretty good cook, I’ll have you know. I’m no Carlos, of course, but then, no one but Carlos is a Carlos.”

“Well, this is one of my favorites. I don’t come often but, when I want to impress a date, there is where I take her.”

“Is that what this is, then? A date?”

I reddened. “I wouldn’t call it that.”

She smiled, “Well, thank you for bringing me.”

At dinner, I asked about grandfather’s other girls. “Do you still keep in touch with them?”

“Yes,” she said. “We all know where each other is and what’s going on in our lives. And they all want to know about your life.”

“Mine?”

“Yes, of course. We’re all yours if you want us. You know that, Daniel.”

“No, I don’t know that! I thought it was just you! Are you telling me that grandfather instructed all of you girls to come to me if I want???”

“Yes, I thought you understood that!”

“…No, you never said that.”

“I’m sorry.”

We ate in silence for a time as I digested this new information. I decided I didn’t like it one bit. It was bad enough that grandfather wanted to give me one mind-slave. But…there were five other girls at that funeral. This was so wrong, I thought.

“Look, I like you, Krista. I wish we had met under other circumstances. Without…what was done to you, what you were made into. But I like you – I like the person you are. I don’t want to be ‘the master’ to a harem. As hot as that sounds, it’s not me. It’s not who I am and it’s not who I want to be. It’s wrong. Grandfather was wrong.”

“I understand,” she said.

“Look, I don’t think I want you telling them, or anyone, what’s going on in my life. Tell them to find their own lives.”

“Alright, Daniel,” she said.

She looked at me for a while before continuing, “But they’ll be hurt. More than hurt, they’ll be devastated. Their lives were the same as mine. Their dedication to Mr. Brooks was as complete as mine was. Here, now, with you, I’m happy. It’s the only happiness in my life now.”

“Krista…”

“Please, Daniel, you need to hear this. May I continue?”

“…Yes.”

“They don’t even have as much as I have. The only spark they have now is hearing about you and keeping themselves in shape and ready should you ever want them. I think you are the kind of person who does not want to hurt others. I think you have a lot of humanity in you. Believe me when I tell you that I am saying these things only because I think you would want to know. And that I think you will have to do something about the girls, and about me, sooner or later.”

I stared at her. And I believed every word. “Krista, I don’t think I can do what you’re asking of me. I can’t do what grandfather did!”

“You misunderstand. Yes, now that Mr. Brooks is gone, their greatest desire, and mine, is to serve you. If you could let us fulfill that role, we could be happy again. But even if you cannot, you will want to find a solution of some sort. Use your grandfather’s trick if you have to. Change us…change them into something that can be happy without you. They will not want it, just as I desperately do not want you to do anything to me that will send me away from you, but in the end they would be happy.”

I thought about it awhile. “I’d have to get more ingredients for the TTCY. I told you I dumped what I had.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t like the idea. But, you’re right, I don’t like what you’ve told me about the girls, either. Maybe we can find another solution. Maybe if I just tell them to be happy without me…”

“I don’t think that will work, exactly. Without your grandfather’s force, you can’t just expect them to be able to rebuild themselves because you say so. But, you might be on to something anyway. We want to serve. Always sexually, of course, but not exclusively that. Perhaps you could put us to work in some other capacity? Emily is an even better cook than I am. Arlene is wonderful at massages and exercising – she was Mr. Brooks’ personal trainer. Kathleen went to law school. All the others had skills beyond just the bedroom. Could you do that? Could you find places for all of us?”

“I don’t have a mansion, Krista. And I don’t have the cash to buy one.”

“Phooey, we have the cash, you know that. And it’s all yours because we are yours. Sixty million dollars will buy a big enough place.”

“No! It’s not mine because you are not mine! I refuse to accept responsibility for what has been done to you! I’m sorry, Krista, I can’t live with that on my conscience.”

She thought for a moment. “Alright, I understand. We will come up with something that can make you happy. We will, because that’s our jobs.” Her smile made me think of a cat that had gotten into the household butter.

I sighed.

I kissed her goodnight by my car that night. It was nice. That’s an intentional understatement, by the way. Yes, it was nice.

I almost asked her up. I wasn’t sure at the time why I didn’t. It wasn’t like it would have been the first time. It took me awhile but I eventually understood why I couldn’t.

I’d left her twice before. Both times were very hard for me. I’d liked her a lot even then and thought she was a nice girl despite doing a job I considered not much better than prostitution. Maybe not even that honorable. But now she was more than just a nice girl—she was a friend. In fact, she was rapidly becoming the best friend I’d ever had. If I had sex with her again, I knew that would be it. Conscience be damned, I’d never be able to walk away from her again. And my conscience would be damned: I felt like I’d never feel right about it if I accepted her now. She had no choice in how she felt about me – it would have been no better than Myrna.

At least this way I wasn’t using her. We were dating, and we would go on dating, until I sent her away for good or found a way to accept her totally, as I so wanted to do.

All that thinking was the cause of my sleepless night Monday night. Tuesday, after work, I drove to her apartment (nice, very nice – security guard, even an underground parking garage) and we drove to another restaurant. Yeah, of course in her Jag. I could get hooked on driving that thing.

On the way, I explained to her the conclusions I’d come to last night.

When I finished, she said, “I think I knew all that, really. For a long time, I couldn’t understand why you’d left me after the funeral. All I knew was the hurt from losing first Mr. Brooks and then you. I felt I must have failed you somehow. Not been good enough in bed for you that night.”

“Oh, Krista, don’t be ridiculous.”

“I know,” she shrugged. “Eventually I figured out that you had problems with what I was. I figured out that you were a man of conscience. I had to figure it out: I wouldn’t have been doing my job if I hadn’t.”

She looked at me, “Please know that I understand what you are going through and I don’t blame you. I’m glad you’ve told me these things. I’m glad that you think of me as your friend – because I am. And I’m glad to tell you something else. I think we’ve got a solution for this. Oh, a German restaurant! I love German food!”

She continued our conversation after we were seated, “The easiest solution is to find a place and move us all in together. You can’t live with that and I understand why. Another solution might be to use the TTCY. None of us want that, and, thankfully, neither do you. So how about this? What if we all get places in the area and you put us to work with whatever you need, other than sex, of course? Unless you want it. You could start a business, maybe. Or we could start one for you and run it for you. Maybe charity work, we could start a charity foundation – maybe donate a million each – and you could be the president. What do you think?”

“I think I wish I wasn’t in this situation. But it’s not a bad idea. Why don’t you come up with something that will make you all happy? Just don’t count on me too much – I have my own life, such as it is.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, “we will take care of it for you. Umm, would it be alright if the girls moved into the city? They all want to, after we conferenced last night.”

“’…after we conferenced last night?’ My God, now you’re having conferences about me.”

“We always have,” she said.

Our dinners always seemed to end with me sighing.

In her Jag, in her garage, we sat.

“Wonderful meal,” she said, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, yes it was.”

Silence.

“Well, I guess I should be going,” I said.

“Would you like to come up?” she asked.

“No,” I said, “No, I shouldn’t do that.”

“Oh, right,” she said.

“Well,” I said. Then she kissed me.

God that woman can kiss.

I kissed her back. For an hour and a half.

I hadn’t made out like that since college. And then it never lasted that long. It would either progress to the bedroom or the girl would call it a night long before then. This was different: neither of us wanted it to end but we couldn’t let it go too far. It was as utterly painful as it was pleasurable. It finally ended when I got a cramp in my neck. She massaged it out for me and, when it was gone, I kissed her one last, long time and went back to my truck and home.

That was how my week went. It was simultaneously the most enjoyable, the most frustrating, and the most downright sexually painful week of my life. I was intoxicated with lust for her and I drove myself right to the edge every night. We’d meet for lunch and she’d tell me what she and the girls had planned. We’d meet for dinner and talk about our interests. (After awhile it did start to bother me that her interests were the same as mine. I took it as more evidence of her mind-rape.) We’d make out in her garage, or the restaurant parking lot, or the beach one night. Every lunch and dinner that week I spent with her.

On the weekend we went water skiing. Then she taught me the basics of surfing. Then I introduced her to the World of Warcraft. All of it was fun and the most fun of it all was being close to her.

We kissed goodnight Sunday night and that was the end of my week of heaven and the beginning of my time in hell.