The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The guard nodded to the row of children entering the museum. Their chaperones instructed them to remain with their partners at all times. Several of the children didn’t listen and began walking off in their own directions. Morris Sinclair smiled as he entered behind them. He’d never been one for rules either.

He made a lazy circuit of the place. Stopping to admire exhibits along the way. When he was certain he wasn’t being observed, he’d remove a small, bulging metal sticker from his pocket and place it somewhere out of the way. If anyone were to notice them scattered through the museum, they could be mistaken for some kind of safety reflector.

“Everything’s in position.” He whispered to his earbud as he entered the Gemstones of the World exhibit.

“Roger that.” The British woman’s voice on the other end of the comms replied. “Spencer, ten seconds.”

Sinclair casually put on gloves and made his way over to the display case featuring his target: The large opal known as The Eye of Andalusia. He mentally counted down from five to one, then produced a vial from up his sleeve. He saw the red light on one of the cameras switch off and uncorked the vial as fire alarms sounded and smoke poured in from the charges he’d planted in the other rooms. He poured the vial’s contents on the plastic display case. Wisps of smoke rose from the glass and he watched the guards scatter to the other rooms.

“Everything disabled but the weight trigger. Once the acid’s done it’s work.” The voice explained. “You’ll have three seconds.”

A few seconds later, a hole large enough to put his hand through dissolved in the case. Morris reached in and plucked up the Eye of Andalusia. At one second, he retracted his hand and heard the weight trigger click. At two seconds, he tucked and rolled away from the display case just in time to avoid the metal cage that dropped down where he would have been standing on the third second. Morris rose to his feet and slipped the stone into his pocket. Security gates dropped over all the exits except the one he wanted. He ducked into the cloud of smoke now filling the room and made his way to the front entrance, slipping past two guards who’d come running in. The gloves no longer needed, he stuffed them into his other pocket and made his way outside; another stunned museumgoer in the crowd fleeing the building.

When he hit the sidewalk, Morris kept going. He walked eighteen paces and entered the back of a sedan. He picked up a newspaper and started reading while the driver pulled into traffic and away from the approaching sirens. Once they were a few blocks away, Gordon Walker, the driver, spoke.

“So, you got it?”

Morris folded the paper, reached into his pocket, and produced the opal.

“One Eye of Andalusia.” He informed the driver and the people on the other end of his comms. Gordon kept his cool. But sounds of cheering came over the bud in his ear.

“Told y’all nobody’d expect a good ol’ daylight smash-n-grab!” Spencer’s voice drawled over the comms.

“Excellent work, gentlemen.” The voice of the British woman replied. “Now, get it back to the safehouse. The buyer wants to be out of the country with it by sundown and I want us out of town tonight.”

“Pretty ballsy, Tracy.” Morris commented, lighting a cigarette. “Promising them a stone we didn’t have yet.”

“I told you all to let me worry about that, didn’t I? Besides, ballsy is what’s called for where we’re going next. And the profits from this little scheme here should finance that one.”

“Maybe it’s about time you told us where that was, Boss Lady.” A fourth man’s voice on the comms spoke up.

“Perhaps it is, indeed.” She replied. “We’ve pulled a few jobs now; I’ve seen what you all can do. Now it’s time for a real challenge. Gentlemen, it’s time we played the Big Room.”

“Vegas?” Gordon asked over the comms.

“Bigger.” She told them. “I’ll have your travel identities ready for you by the time we divide everything. And then we prepare for the greatest challenge of them all.”

Tracy paused for effect.

“Gentlemen, we’re going to San Finzione.”

Morris shuddered for a moment. Then he grinned.

“This will be much easier if you smile, Contessa.” Greta, the make-up artist, looked down and told Contessa Helena de San Finzione. She sat on the throne that, eight years into her reign, she still had a problem accepting was “hers” rather than her late husband’s. Helen had been distracted and took a second to process what Greta was telling her.

“Sorry.” Helen said, giving Greta the smile she wanted. The artist returned to her work as Helen spoke. “This room, this seat, have always made me feel like I don’t belong here, you know?”

She gestured at the expansive Throne Room of Castle Finzione. A marvel of marble and mahogany. Famous paintings lined the high walls and priceless objects adorned the shelves. An emerald green carpet, the royal color of San Finzione, led to dais upon which stood the chair of mahogany encrusted with emeralds where Helen sat resplendent in her emerald green Robes of Office; the emerald-studded Tiara of La Contessa upon her head. Laying on the throne next to her, which had been hers when Count Vincenzo Ramon de San Finzione the First sat on the Reigning Monarch’s throne, was the golden, jewel-encrusted Scepter of San Finzione.

She looked over to the corner of the room where the media were setting up. Cameras were on hand to capture the historic first meeting between herself and Balozi Faraji, newly elected President of the newly renamed Free African Nation of Uongo. For years, San Finzione had provided aid and shelter to Uongoian refugees fleeing the dictatorial rule of Simon Kiburi. After Helen killed his warlord partners, Kiburi had been forced to flee Uongo with all the gold he could carry. He was now living in exile and also in fear of the day Contessa Helena de San Finzione came knocking on his door. Helen knew where he was hiding and was simply waiting to get around to it. Until then, she was happy to let him jump at shadows.

An official first meeting like this meant that she couldn’t have conducted it privately like she wished. She’d have preferred to receive Faraji simply in the Palace Wing and then conduct business in her Study, where she preferred to work. Because it was a ceremonial event with a treaty signing to follow later in the week, La Contessa had to receive her guest in full regalia in the Throne Room and conduct their business in her office here in the Government Wing. She wanted a smoke, but that would be rude to Greta and simply wouldn’t do when the media was about. She was smoking in almost every picture they took of her without her sons. A photo of her doing so in this room, wearing her Robes of Office and the Tiara, was another matter.

“Well, I think La Contessa is beautiful.” Greta said, continuing her work. “I think she is a work of art and fits in perfectly in this room of them.”

Helen looked up at her appreciatively. Greta applied powder under her chin. Helen wondered if she’d meant the compliment or merely wanted her to crane her neck to get under there.

A side door opened, and Lady Maria Louisa Francesca de San Finzione emerged, pushing a twin baby stroller. Her own emerald green robes trailed behind her. Sitting in the stroller, wearing tiny robes of their own and sucking on emerald green pacifiers, were Lord Vincenzo Ramon de San Finzione the Second and Lord Byroni Troilus de San Finzione, Helen’s sons. Sunglasses were over their little eyes. Maria crossed the large room with them to reach the throne. Helen realized that a cigarette now was out of the question and picked up the Scepter so the Princess could have the seat. Maria positioned the stroller so that the boys could see their mommy before taking it.

“Hi, Little Loves.” Helen said to them. They sucked on their pacifiers approvingly. She then turned to Maria and switched from English to Italian. “They seem like they’ve had a nice morning with you.”

“Oh, si.” Maria replied. “We have been outside and have also received a special visitor.”

Helen’s ears perked up at that. She’d been expecting other special visitors besides Faraji, but not for another two days. A visitor who was also special to the twins could only mean one of a few people. She wanted to ask Maria who it was but considering that one of the people was the boys’ father, and his identity was a secret to the public, didn’t want to press for more information with Greta present. The artist finished with La Contessa and took a moment to look over Lady Maria’s makeup. Someone else had already seen to it. Her business concluded, Greta packed up her kit and left the room. The Media, with their view of the assembled La Familia Royale de San Finzione now unobstructed, began filming and taking pictures of the two women on the thrones and the infant princes seated with them.

Before Helen could ask Maria the question, Nunzio, one of the pages dressed in the traditional outfit of his position for the ceremony, entered and signaled his Contessa. Faraji was here and everything was ready. She looked at the large mahogany double doors that were about to open and nudged Maria, who did the same. Helen stepped down from the dais and turned the twins’ stroller to face the doors before returning to her seat. Nunzio took hold of a long oaken staff laying against the wall, walked up to the edge of the carpet, and loudly thumped the staff on the marble floor twice to get the room’s attention.

“Announcing His Excellency.” Nunzio proclaimed to the room in Italian. “First President of the Free African Nation of Uongo, Balozi Faraji.”

The doors opened and the national anthem of Uongo played. Helen and Maria both rose to receive their guest. Balozi Faraji strode in, accompanied by his guards and retinue. Nunzio moved to the center of the carpet and walked a few steps ahead to escort them to the throne. Several feet before the end of the carpet, Nunzio came to a stop and those behind him did the same. He stepped aside in order to not obstruct their view of La Familia Royale, turned to face President Faraji, and thumped the staff on the floor twice again.

“Presenting the Reigning Monarch of the Sovereign County and Independent Nation-State of San Finzione. Ruler, Servant, and Defender of the People of San Finzione; and of Her Lands, Seas, and Skies. Contessa Helena de San Finzione.”

Helen stepped down from the dais and approached her guest. When she was close enough, Faraji bowed. She returned it with a curtsey. She then offered her hand, which he kissed.

“We have journeyed far to be here.” President Faraji said in Swahili. “My country has journeyed far with San Finzione to be at this place and time. My administration looks forward to continuing this journey together.”

Helen smiled, turning her head to meet the man’s gaze and also to keep the flash bulbs of those who still used them out of her field of vision.

“We know that you have traveled far and we are glad you have arrived.” Helen replied in the same language. “We have been honored to share this journey with Uongo. We shall happily continue it together.”

Helen paused and turned to the throne, where Maria stood by the twins’ stroller, before speaking again.

“May I present my great granddaughter, Lady Maria, and my sons, Lord Vincenzo the Second and Lord Byroni.”

Maria stepped down to them and offered her hand. Faraji took it.

“It is my deep honor to welcome you to San Finzione.” Maria said in Italian, delivering the Princess’ one line in the ceremony with sincerity and a lifetime’s practice. The twins, being too young to talk, didn’t have any lines yet.

The introductions concluded, Nunzio thumped the marble floor again for everyone’s attention before speaking.

“La Contessa requests that her guests briefly rest from their journey, then join her in thirty minutes for refreshments in the Palace Wing.”

Faraji agreed. The band played “Glory to San Finzione” and the introduction ceremony concluded. Helen asked if he could accompany her for a moment. Before Faraji dismissed them, one of his armed guards opened a briefcase that was attached to his wrist and gave the President a small velvet-covered box. They adjourned to Helen’s office.

Maria went to return the twins to the nursery, go to her chambers, and change out of her royal robes into something better suited for the reception after. Helen took Faraji into her office to talk while she changed. Another page followed to collect the royal robes and crown jewels.

“I’m sorry about this.” Helen explained from behind the changing screen kept in her office, still speaking Swahili for her guest. “I wanted a moment to talk privately and I’m afraid this is the only one we’re going to get before the reception’s over.”

Balozi sat before her desk, holding the box, watching her shadow on the screen, and not complaining.

“It is no trouble at all, Contessa. I wanted to share something with you as well.”

Helen stepped out from behind the screen. Now she was dressed more suitably for a cocktail party than an official ceremony. An emerald pendant, a final birthday gift from her late husband, hung around her neck, the chain concealing a tiny scar left over from an assassination attempt.

“Oh?” She asked as she took her seat behind the desk, opened a drawer, and produced a cigarette. The page lit it and collected up her Robes of Office and the Tiara and Scepter. He then left to return them to the castle’s vault. “Does this have anything to do with your country’s recent good fortune that the public doesn’t know about yet?”

Helen took a drag of her cigarette while Balozi set the box on the desk, facing her.

“It does, Contessa. But how did you know?”

“Helena’s fine, Balozi. I have a Ministry of Intelligence.” She explained. “We spy on our friends too. I have a friend who likes to play pranks on me, so it’s good to keep a step ahead of things. But yes, I’ve read the geological survey that came out after your last earthquake and won’t be released until next week, and that’s what I asked you in here to talk about.”

Faraji was taken aback that his big news was already known but recovered and continued.

“Then you know that diamonds have been found in Uongo, Helena! That is what I wanted to show you. It is in the spirit of celebrating the discovery and of our gratitude to San Finzione that this gift will formally be presented at the treaty signing, but I thought that you would want to see it first.”

Faraji opened the box. Helen looked at the large stone within. A pear-cut 60-carat pink diamond pendant sat on a pillow of velvet.

“The Star of Uongo.” He proclaimed proudly. “One of my country’s few remaining national treasures that Kiburi did not steal. Our gift to you for all that you and San Finzione have done for our country.”

Helen admired the stone for another few seconds before closing the box.

“A most gracious gift. And we will gladly accept it at the appropriate time. You’ve done a good job keeping the find out of the press so far, but that won’t last. Your country is about to experience a diamond rush. This is the dawning of a new age for Uongo.”

“Yes.” Faraji agreed. “And this treaty shall secure it.”

“Yes, it will. Which is why I need to have a word with you about it. Balozi. You see, after I read the survey, I went back and looked over the treaty again. San Finzione and Uongo both have a lot to gain from it, so it was important to me to go over the details.” She opened one of the bottom drawers, produced a thick manila folder containing the text of the treaty, and dropped it onto the desk. “With this new information, I paid attention to the section on mineral rights and exports. Everything looks fair as far as our two countries go. It’s the tiny section where agreements with other parties are discussed. Maybe you didn’t write that part yourself, but the way it’s worded, your administration is poised and ready to hand the country over to De Beers. I’m guessing they’ve seen the survey too and already have plans for Uongo. Those stones belong to the Uongoian People. They deserve to determine what happens to them. And the people have come too far and overcome too much to end up slaves to Big Diamond.”

Helen got up from her desk. Faraji seemed shocked at the news. She looked him up and down.

“Don’t be too surprised, Balozi.” She continued. “I’m good at reading people. That’s a new Rolex. I’m guessing you’ve had a few talks with the diamond companies yourself. Maybe there’s some special concessions you’ve already agreed to. Swinging at your first pitch, another rookie mistake. They say that the first thing you should do when you win the lottery is get a lawyer. I’m not a lawyer, but I care and I’m here for you. It’s ok, you’re new to this job. You’re gonna make mistakes. People tried to take advantage of me in the early days too. That little subclause is my only issue with the treaty. Take that out and we’re good.”

Helen saw the look of a man about to try to weasel out of something before he opened his mouth and did so.

“Certain provisions have already been made in good faith…” He started to say before Helen cut him off.

“Then unmake them in bad faith. Your people are still adjusting to the concept of freedom and they’re about to discover that they’re rich on top of it. And the sharks are already circling. I’m busy ruling one country and don’t have time to rule yours for you, Balozi. But I came from a country that started out calling itself a democracy until they let the robber barons take over and now it sucks. I’m trying to stop you from making the same mistake.”

Faraji held his ground. He’d heard stories of this woman before meeting her. She was well-respected in his country for the aid she and San Finzione had lent them over the years. But he’d heard other stories as well. Superstitious nonsensical folk tales about La Contessa being some kind of witch who could compel the will of others. It was well-known that she’d been instrumental in freeing the country from the grip of David Igazi and the other warlords. But to hear the people talk, she’d done it all with strange magical powers, not the aid of her armed forces. Her Swahili was flawless and she was devastatingly beautiful and had a commanding personality, but that must be all that there was to it. He couldn’t afford to show weakness on his first official visit to Uongo’s biggest ally. He stood up.

“The provision must stay.” He told her. “The diamond companies will bring jobs to my people!”

“That’s what the robber barons always dangle over the people of my old country, too; jobs. They’ll be shit jobs for shit wages. The good jobs will go to foreigners. And the money’s going into the bosses’ pockets; where it’ll leave the country and never return. If the Uongoian people go their own way and manage this right, they won’t just survive, they’ll prosper. I have an economist friend who’s coming later in the week and might be able to tell you how to do it if you can meet him privately. But I see you’re going to need convincing. So, I’m going to have to do something I was hoping would wait until our third or fourth meeting.”

She leaned forward, putting her palms on the desk, and looked him In the eye.

“You’re going to take that part out of the treaty, Balozi.” She commanded him. “Self-determination is what’s best for the Uongoian people, and without the diamond companies lording over them, they’ll be able to afford it. Forget that I commanded you to do this.”

Faraji nodded his understanding.

“I see your point, Helena. I shall have my people remove it.”

Helen smiled.

“I’m glad we were able to come to an agreement on this.” She told him, putting out her cigarette. “Now, we’d better get along to the reception before they miss us. Come, let me introduce you to Generalissimo Ramirez and some of my other people.”

Faraji smiled and took her offered arm. They departed her office. As he walked with her, he wondered what the legends had all been about.

After all, he’d found her a perfectly reasonable woman.

Two hours later, the reception ended. This finally gave Helen time to go to the Nursery and find out who the twins’ surprise visitor was. She placed her cigarettes and lighter in the little bowl indicated by the two signs on the Nursery door. The first said in English “Absolutely No Smoking, Helen. In fact, why don’t you just leave them in that little bowl over there? Nobody will touch them.” The other sign read, in Italian, “Everybody Else, No Smoking and Leave La Contessa’s Cigarettes Alone.”

She entered the Nursery. The artist who’d designed it made the walls and the ceiling look like the occupants might be outdoors on a sunny day. The clouds on the ceiling were shaped vaguely like duckies and bunnies, along with a few items of the parents’ interest and the faces of the two men after which they’d been named. The floor was carpeted emerald green because it was the royal color of San Finzione and the boys would need to get used to seeing a lot of it. On that carpet lay a menagerie of cuddly fluff friends and many toys for developing young minds, one of whom would someday rule the country.

Troy Equals sat in front of a large television, watching Mander Force with his sons. Vincenzo and Byroni each sat on one of his knees, which he would periodically bounce for them. Helen thought of creeping up on him and surprising him with a hug from behind like he’d do to her but decided that doing so while he was holding the twins was a bad idea. Troy must have told the nannies to take a break. He was allowed to do that.

“Hey, Boys.” She said softly as she crossed the room to them. The three turned their heads. The boys acknowledged their mommy before turning back to watch the pretty colors on the screen. Troy gently set them down on the couch and left them to find out if Mander Force would stop B.U.G.G.E.R.S. from taking over the world’s cookie mines. He stood to welcome her into his arms.

“Hey, Girl.” He replied as she fell into his embrace. He held Helen for at least a minute before she finally looked up.

“I wasn’t expecting you for a couple days.” She told him.

“Julie’s showing is going on until then and Susan is helping her. I had no appointments and can do my job from anywhere with Wi-Fi, so I decided to come early and get in some time with you three before the kids get overrun by their Also and Other Mommies.”

Troy Equals lived with his wife Julie Equals in Federal Way, Washington; along with Susan Bailey, the permanent third member of their polyamorous marriage. Troy and Julie had been Helen’s dearest friends their entire lives and she had been both of their first girlfriend. She didn’t see them for years after she married Count Vincenzo Ramon de San Finzione the First and became his Contessa, and then his widow, and then ruler of his country. When Helen did finally reconnect with them, she found that Troy & Julie’s love had room enough for her and she and Susan had come to love each other as well. Although La Contessa was known to the Press for her little dalliances with the Hollywood Pretty Boy or Girl of the Minute, it was to these three people that her heart belonged.

At a young age, Troy and Julie discovered the secret of mind control that Helen had used on Faraji to get him to change the treaty. Her father had been a violent and abusive drunk, and the two of them taught Helen the secret to save her from him but she learned it too late to stop him from murdering her mother in a drunken rage. After that, Helen had gone to stay with Troy and his great-grandfather, Byroni Medina, who was known to everyone as Propappou, the Greek word for great-grandfather.

Helen loved Propappou like the father she never had. She always felt safe in his home. And in his great-grandson’s arms, she always felt safer. Like nothing could get to her and she could relax and drop all facades and be herself. After a day of having to be La Contessa for the cameras that wasn’t yet finished, it was exactly the break she needed.

“Well, er…” Helen told him, eyeing the door. “I’ve got a State Dinner to attend in a couple hours; I’m sure you won’t want to go to that. But I’m free until then…”

She knew of Troy’s fear of the media. He’d spent most of his life trying to harness this power of theirs for good and encouraging Julie and Helen to do the same. He lived in fear of the day the world discovered their ability, thinking that they’d all be abducted and taken to a lab and dissected for their secret. Because of this, he feared the spotlight and came and went to the castle via a secret entrance. There was no point in asking him to be her date to the event because she already knew his answer.

The nannies returned from their break. Helen broke from Troy’s embrace but kept hold of his hand. The nannies and the castle staff knew who Troy was to La Contessa and had been commanded by her not to tell anyone about him. Given the direction their conversation had been heading, they said goodbye to the twins and left the Nursery, strolling toward La Contessa’s bedchamber.

Troy took note of Helen’s grip on his hand as they walked.

“You’re tense.” He told her.

“I had to do the Thing today.” She replied, referring to their ability. “To someone I respect and was hoping to not have to do it to. Sure, it was to stop him from making a rookie mistake that would have doomed his people to corporate serfdom, but I was hoping I could make him see that without it, you know? That reminds me, you’ll have some free time staying in the Palace Wing and out of the view of cameras. You might want to read up on the African diamond industry for an important conversation later in the week. It’ll be in Swahili; I’ll interpret.”

“I caught the ceremony. You and Maria and the boys looked very regal on TV.” That got her lips to turn upwards. “It sounds like you did it for good reasons. And you only used it when you had to. You’re trying, Helen. I see that. If you’re feeling bad about it, don’t do it to him anymore.”

She leaned over and pressed her head against one of the few people in the world who could call her Helen as they walked.

“Ok, I won’t.” She told him. And that settled it.

They encountered La Contessa’s maid, Jeanne, who informed Helen that she was aware that Troy was here. Although the Equals and Susan had their own designated guest room in the Palace Wing, she had already prepared La Contessa’s bedchamber for two. Helen thanked her and they continued their journey until they arrived in her bedroom.

“I’ll see what I can do to help them out.” Troy said as he unbuttoned his shirt. He watched Helen shimmy out of her dress and sit on the bed that had comfortably accommodated the two of them, Julie, Susan, occasionally Jeanne, and another friend or two in the past.

“You’ll be doing a great service to Uongo, Troy.” Helen replied, removing her bra, and sliding her underwear off. She hadn’t been anticipating Troy’s arrival, so she’d been wearing it. “Now come do a great service to San Finzione.”

Troy removed his pants. He had been anticipating seeing Helen that day, so hadn’t bothered with underwear. Helen scooted up the bed and reclined against the pile of pillows that Jeanne had already positioned for her. Troy crawled onto the bed and kissed her stomach. Helen sighed and looked down, watching his lips work their way up her body.

Helen’s husband, the late Count, had died making love to her. This left her with some issues with intimacy with men, which she worked to overcome to satisfy Vincenzo’s wish that she not be lonely after he was gone. She had her public flings to satisfy the media, but she never gave herself over completely to them. Eight years after Vincenzo’s death, she’d found that the only man with whom she could be totally free was still her first boyfriend.

“This is going to be a busy week for me.” She told him, trying to stop working and enjoy it for a moment. “I’m dealing with a time-sensitive issue. The official signing is at the end of the week, but some news is going to break the next day and the treaty has to already be in place before it hits.”

“When Julie, Susan, and I come here,” Troy explained as his explorations reached her lips. “Unless you’ve got Julie working some art project, we’re on vacation like everyone else who comes to San Finzione. We all understand that La Contessa doesn’t get ‘time off.’ We’ll work with you, Helen.”

Helen smiled and ran her fingers through his hair. Troy explored her body and she closed her eyes and reveled in the sensations. Hers had been the first that his hands had ever roamed over, and all these years later, he still found new favorite places to discover. Helen looked forward to Julie and Susan’s hands joining his when they arrived. Until then, she had Troy all to herself.

“You always know exactly what I need, Troilus.” She whispered In Greek. It had always been the language of their love.

“Needs like being placed in a deep trance and getting your pussy licked for half an hour?”

She opened her eyes, looked into his, and nodded. Troy crawled between her legs, never breaking eye contact. He traced a little spiral on her breast and she sighed as the tension drained from her body.

“Go deeper and relax, Helen.” He commanded her. She had the knowledge and the power to resist him, but like always, never used them.

As the thoughts in her head melted away to be replaced with mindless bliss, her last was that despite the little hiccup earlier, this was going to be a good week.