The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Breep, breep. " ‘Lo?”

“Ty? It’s Rishaun. You still up?”

“Not really, man. And my ma’ll go ballistic if she catches me on the cell this late. ‘Sup?”

“It worked, man. It worked!”

Rishaun heard the bed creak through the phone. Then Ty’s forced whisper: “You playin’ me?”

“No way, man! I waited till she put Nala to bed, then used a knock-knock as the trigger. She went right under; it was sweet! I just about had her convinced I could stay up as late as I want, play some Playstation, maybe even check out a movie. Or, y’know, show me what a real live girl looks like. But...”

“But what, ‘Shaun?” Long pause. “What!?”

“But the ‘rents came home, like an hour early. I barely had time to bring her back out before I had to run up to my room and pretend like I was asleep!”

“Aw, man. Aw, man. You mean your babysitter—”

“Is still downstairs, and still kind of open to suggestion. Plus if anyone happens to knock, or something? Man oh man, I hope my parents don’t figure it out.”

Althea Adams staggered into the house, just ahead of her husband David. “Whoo-ee! I swear that’s the last time I let Eunice talk me into having more’n one of those Long Island Ice Teas. Hello, Veronica dear; ‘scuse me while I—whoo!—freshen myself up a bit before bed.” She had to use the banister to pull herself up the stairs, her chocolate skin in stark contrast to her sparkling silver dress and heels.

The pretty Latina babysitter had respectfully stood up as the door opened; she nodded to Mrs. Adams’ retreating back, then turned to face David—all six feet three of him. His first thought was that she looked a bit out of it, as if she was hiding something. “Veronica? Are the kids in bed? Are you okay? Do you need to freshen up as well before you go?”

Her response seemed artificial somehow, almost like it had been rehearsed. “Yes, sir. The kids are in bed. I’m okay. I would like to freshen up before I go.” She turned and walked away, leaving David—who’d been reaching for his wallet—somewhat nonplussed.

Twenty minutes later, after David had peeked in on his infant daughter (sleeping like a little angel), teenage son (asleep, or very good at pretending) and his wife (snoring like a buzz saw, two minutes after hanging up her dress) he realized he still hadn’t paid the babysitter for her services. He looked outside; her car was still in front of the house. So he tapped twice on the downstairs bathroom door. “Veronica? Are you still in there? Is everything all right?”

What he didn’t know was the effect that those two taps had on the pretty collegian’s already-frazzled psyche. After doing her business and washing up, poor Veronica had spent the last quarter-hour alternating between pacing back and forth and staring at herself in the mirror, trying to figure out where the previous three hours had gone. She’d wanted to get paid and go, but at the same time also seemed to be waiting for something to happen.

Something like a knock-knock. Once again her world went liquidy, then completely blank. When she responded, her voice was completely flat. “I am still in here. Everything is all right.”

“You don’t sound all right. Come on out and tell me the truth. Have you been drinking?”

The door opened immediately, and Veronica stepped out of the bathroom. And then stopped, staring straight ahead, which happened to be at David’s neck. She said in that same monotone, “I will tell you the truth. I have not been drinking.”

David put on his best paternal scowl; he’d had practice, after all. “Then tell me what’s going on, young lady. You haven’t been acting right since Althea and I came home.”

“I haven’t been acting right. I am in a trance.”

“A what!?”

“A trance.” No change in tone, as if the outburst hadn’t been rhetorical.

David, on the other hand, was trying to find his footing. “What do you mean, a trance?”

“You knocked twice. Therefore I must believe and do everything you say.”

“Well...” David sputtered, running his fingers through his thin curly hair, “How did you get in this trance?”

“I don’t know.” And then she waited.

And waited some more, while her employer, a till-now faithful husband and father, processed this unexpected information.

“...Anything I say?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hmm. Let’s go for a drive.”

David had used cash to pay for the motel room; after all, his wife checked the credit card statements too. And if she happened to wake up long enough to notice he’d gone back out—which he didn’t think she would—he’d simply tell her that Veronica’s car wouldn’t start, so he’d driven her home. He had every faith that the naked 20-year-old beauty lying next him would back up his story all the way.

Faith. Hah, that was funny. What was it that the Bible said about adultery? He was pretty sure it was one of the commandments. But for some odd reason, another passage kept popping into his mind instead: “Knock, and the door shall be opened.”

Even as he was rolling over and penetrating his long-haired lover’s willing (if unwitting) flesh, his first thought was how he never would’ve expected that part to be taken so literally.

He was using a condom of course, even though she’d said she was on the pill. And he was careful to not to leave any incriminating marks, not even a hickey; he’d even thought to insist that she wash herself and her outfit as soon as she got home. Just in case.

Her full breasts were remarkable, large scoops of creamy mocha capped by rich chocolate candies almost as dark as his own skin. He’d forgotten how firm and supple young flesh could be, how strange it was to feel something other than Althea’s nappy curls tickle his cheek and chest. And he was absolutely delighted by the black tribal tattoo design on the small of her back; he hadn’t even known she was that adventurous. Not to mention the firmness and roundness of her not-yet-drinking-age rear.

And the softness of her mouth, both while kissing and (later) blowing him. And the wet tightness of her trimmed-but-not-bare pussy, and even the soft cries from the pleasure he’d insisted she enjoy; he thought it was only fair that she should have as much fun as he was.

There really wasn’t time to get adventurous, and at forty-two he wasn’t going to be able to pull an all-nighter anyway. So he had her home by one a.m., richer by a hundred dollars (fifty for sitting, plus a hell of a tip), with directions to call him that afternoon to collect her car. As well as hidden instructions to be very attracted to him, to quietly lose any boyfriends, to remember the night’s pleasure without remembering its source. And most importantly, to exit the trance once asleep, and only go back under if he, David, was the one who knocked twice.

All in all, as he pulled into his own garage David was pleased. He had only two concerns: the first, of course, was that even unintended cheating has consequences. The second was how Veronica had wound up in such a deep state in the first place. He had a theory, though he was a little puzzled: while he had no doubt his son was smart enough to have come up with the idea, he hadn’t seen any signs that Rishaun had done anything physical with (or to) the babysitter, and to be honest he would’ve thought that’d be the first thing on a male teenager’s mind.

But if it was Rishaun who’d set this situation up, and if (as his father) he could bargain or intimidate the method out of him, then David had a plan as to how to make his lovely wife not only not a problem, but actually a willing participant....