The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

With a steady hand Candy unlocked the door to her apartment and prepared to open the door. Behind her and slightly to one side she heard the increase in Tryler’s rate of breathing that signified he was nervous about taking this next step. Conversely, his blond companion was calm as she let him in to her home. An excited yap from across the room signified the approach of an afghan pup, this would be the final test.

The dog gave an affectionate nuzzle against Candy’s legs and then turned its attention to the stranger with her. Tail half a’cock the shaggy animal sniffed curiously at his shoes and trousers. Tryler stood absolutely still for a moment and then very slowly bent down to offer the back of his hand for the dog to sniff.

“This is Demi, and Demi, Steve,” Candy introduced them. She had been right, her boss wasn’t used to being around animals and she could watch with amusement as he flinched slightly at having his hand licked. He attempted to pat Demi but the pup bounced away from him, did a very cat like brush against Candy’s legs and then disappeared in to the kitchen. “It’s okay,” Candy said to alleviate any concerns on Tryler’s part, “She just wants to be fed. Sit down and get comfortable while I do that and get us a drink.”

“Thanks.” Tryler said, his throat unaccustomedly dry. Then he got his first view of Candy’s lounge and was stunned. It was large and expensively furnished. He had realised that it was a fairly exclusive building when the taxi had dropped them off after dinner but this room alone was larger than most apartments. He had to ask with what he hoped was a humorous smile, “Exactly how much do we pay you?”

He fully expected her to laugh and then tell him that she was house sitting for a rich friend, or that she shared it with several flatmates. Instead she answered, “Enough to afford this place.”

Tryler was dumbfounded. “Seriously?” he queried, and then when she nodded he went on, “But we just set up the salaries at the starting wage of a executive assistant and indexed it to our stock value.”

Candy giggled, “Most employers would have linked it to inflation.” She went in to the kitchen leaving Tryler to sit down on the stylish couch and ponder that point. He had never worried about the special staff’s wages, the centre was still making a huge profit and they had never complained. Now he knew why. He spent his time waiting for Candy to get back by looking the lounge over to get a better handle on her private lifestyle.

In the kitchen Candy took her time putting together a dinner tray, starting the coffee from scratch and neatly arranging home made biscuits and slices of cake on a plate. A good ten minutes passed before it was all ready and she re-entered her lounge to find Tryler sitting comfortably and absentmindedly patting Demi who had settled down just within arms reach of him. Candy smiled happily, he had passed the final test.

Very carefully she made just enough noise on her soft carpet so as not to surprise him and came around to put the tray on the low table in front of him. Tryler shook himself out of his reverie and consciously noticed for the first time that he had been patting the dog. Before he got a chance to say anything Candy sat down beside him and putting her arms around his shoulders, gave him a long kiss.

When she broke the embrace he had to ask. “Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?”

“Demi likes you,” she replied with an exuberant smile.

“Come on Mark, we have to be at the restaurant in less than half an hour.” Tryler pleaded from the doorway to Dr Albet’s office. Within his friend was glued to his computer, scrolling through screens of data that were unintelligible to anyone other than himself.

“Not now,” Albet fended him off, “I don’t have time. This woman keeps coming in, using my machine. I can’t understand it, I’ve tried a half dozen different programs that would have been irritating or unpleasant, and she just keeps coming back for more.”

Tryler got the feeling that Dr Albet was taking the mystery woman’s actions as a direct insult to his competence. He had been only luke warm to Rachel’s suggestion of a double date but now he felt that his friend really needed to get out and forget about the clinic for at least one night.

“Mark, you’re not getting anywhere. Take a break, have a meal and talk to some real people for once.”

“What? Oh, all right,” Albet conceded with less than good grace. “The computers going to be a while running the queries anyway. Now who is it we’re meeting?”

“Candy ... that is Rachel, and a friend of hers.”

“This would be the woman you’ve been going out with for the last two weeks?”

“Now remember, remain seated,” Candy said in a quiet but firm voice. All around them there was the general muted conversation of diners in the upmarket restaurant. Candy blended in quite well, her blond hair up in a french-twist and a powder blue silk gown that was elegant and attractive. Jordan was a different matter and Candy was relying heavily on the dim lighting to pass off the charade. Getting the tall woman to wear anything but leather was out of the question of course, so Candy had to work within that boundary, producing what she thought was a stylish outfit consisting of a tight knee length leather skirt and tailored high neck double breasted jacket of suede and finished leather.

The rest of the disguise was more effective, they had dyed Jordan’s hair to an auburn red and restyled it to reshape her face. Lighter lipstick than normal, powder to bring out her cheek bones and a masterwork of eyeshadow hinted at asian blood. Apart from her height Candy was pretty sure that even Jordan’s co-workers wouldn’t recognise her.

“All right, little Miss Demure,” Jordan replied in a slightly testy voice. In the past her height had made her feel uncomfortable around men, now she loved the feeling of power it gave her as she, with the aid of high heels, looked down on most men. Some it intimidated, some it intrigued, Jordan liked both reactions.

“As I told you, Mark is quite shy—but a really wonderful person once ...” Candy stopped as she recognised the two men who had just entered the restaurant. She waited as Tryler talked to the head waiter and then waved happily as the two men were led over to their table. As they got near Jordan started to rise, more out of habit than malice, only to find that Candy was holding her down by the back of her jacket.

“Hello Rachel,” Tryler said, “Sorry if we’re late.”

“No,” Candy replied with smile to distract attention from Jordan’s squirming, “You’re right on time, we were early.”

“Oh good. Well this is my friend Mark. Mark, this is Rachel and ...” Tryler was confident that Candy would take over the introductions and she obliged.

“This is my friend Brook,” Candy said as she shook hands with Dr Albet who had to bend forward over the table to do so. He followed by shaking hands with Jordan before he and Tryler sat down.

Jordan decided that she liked the look and feel of her ‘blind’ date, he was immaculate in dress, grooming and manner—one of those rare men who looked distinguished rather than foppish with a bow tie. He was also very careful in his manner, reserved. Jordan found herself warming to the idea of breaking through that reserve, showing him a wilder side to life and hoped that he would never truly give in to her.

It was late enough that the rain soaked street was empty of all but the occasional clubber as Tryler walked Candy home. He felt very comfortable with his arm linked through hers, light conversation came so easily. Then in an infrequent moment of silence he broached a weightier subject.

“So that was our mysterious Ms Jordan,” he said, half question, half statement.

“Oh! You noticed.” There was a hint of disappointment in Candy’s voice and Tryler wondered if it was because he had broken the romantic mood or that he had figured out her ploy.

“I had my suspicions when you suggested the double date. She was well disguised but then I know you’re very good at it and took a lot more notice than usual. Of course the fact that she was a good three inches taller than Mark when they left to go clubbing was the clincher.”

“Maybe we should open a detective agency,” Candy giggled.

“Hmm, answering the phone and bringing you coffee. I don’t think I have the legs for it, Miss Marlowe.”

Candy laughed out loud at that and hugged him closer. “So you’re not angry?”

“Concerned, but not angry.” Tryler replied, then went on with a harder question. “Am I to take it that you are responsible for Mark’s failure to dissuade Ms Jordan from using the AES?”

Candy was silent for nearly half a block. Then, “Yes.”

“Mark will figure it out eventually.”

“Eventually.”

Tryler nodded, “Then I have only one more question for tonight ...”

The priest looked up from where he had pretended to be reading from the Good Book on the podium to turn his attention to the quartet assembled before him now that all the pomp and delay of the approach to the altar was done with. He liked a good, traditional wedding. None of this Elvis impersonators, or white suits, or rush jobs. No, what he had now was just right, from his left where the best man stood with that unique expression of envy and relief that it wasn’t him getting married. Then the groom, a dark suit, immaculately tailored but he looked just uncomfortable enough that he wasn’t used to wearing formal clothes on a regular basis, and the barely suppressed nerves. The bride of course was radiant, this was her day and the dress was a wonderful extravagance of lace, satin and pearls, in the boldest of whites. He very much doubted it symbolised her sexual purity but he really didn’t care about that, brides should be in white—to symbolise their purity of intent. And finally the bridesmaid, a tall woman but dressed in a suitably over-puffed creation in lavender that left no doubt who was the star of this show. Although now that he got a better look at it, was her dress made entirely of ... leather?