The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

CHAPTER #3.

KRYSTAL made no secret of the intensity of HER brilliantly burning desire for control: of HERSELF; of HER environment; and, when achievable, HER interactions with others. THIS SUPERIOR WOMAN, like every other homo sapiens, could manipulate only so many of life’s variables. Finding a circumstance in which it was appropriate for HER to use HER newfound skill was one of these. SHE reluctantly resigned HERSELF to simply waiting (as much as it irked HER to do so) for the correct situation to present itself.

HER deep and abiding desire to manage reality would not be entirely denied. First, SHE did extensive research on The Shadow. Then, SHE decided it was meet for HER to assign a suitable pseudonym to HER invisible alter ego. The Shadow was taken. Still, in some way, SHE wished to properly honor Walter Gibson and the others whose labors had created and brought to life Kent Allard and Lamont Cranston. HER greatest success came from deftly manipulating the erotic pleasures of others. After rejecting a multitude of candidates, SHE finally had the perfect choice. CUM XUMBRAX had a definite ring to it. Third, SHE practiced and refined a variety of laughs. These were designed to induce specific reactions in HER victims. Everything from irresistible seduction to excruciating terror. Some of HER laughs were intended to arouse, bring forth, and exacerbate multiple, and sometimes paradoxical, {SHE readily knew and perpetually employed, in HER profoundly pleasurable professional and private pursuits, the (psychologically destabilizing and perhaps paralyzing) power of the paradox.} feelings. HER thespian interest, training, and ability served HER well. Fourth, SHE brushed up on HER long-neglected, and previously in HER evaluation patently useless, talent for ventriloquism.

From the moment he dragged himself through the door, his expression revealed something was horribly wrong. He sat down heavily in the chair and glowered at the floor.

KRYSTAL came to stand behind him and began maternally massaging HER deeply discouraged pet’s neck, shoulders, and back. “Jefferson, what is wrong, my dear, good, little boy,” SHE inquired empathetically?

“It’s my second cousin, Liana O’Hara.”

“What is wrong with her?”

“She is not the problem. It’s that miserable!, wretched!!, repulsive!!!, obnoxious!!!!, slimy!!!!!, misbegotten!!!!!!, insigrevious!!!!!!! jackasshole!!!!!!!! of a fiancé of hers i’d like to slowly strangle, excruciatingly impale, and agonizingly draw and quarter so very, very slow!ly!” The menace with which he uttered the last word surprised and temporarily unnerved HER. The increasing intensity of the expressions which crossed his visage, and his voice’s rise in volume and pitch, declared what he thought of and felt about this loathsome creature who called him/it-self a man and a human being.

“You know murder is wrong,” stated SHE.

“In my judgment it would be justifiable, and hopefully chronically and perniciously torturous, vermin eradication.”

SHE spoke to him in a professorial tone. “Now, Jefferson, as I have frequently reminded you, you must, at times, fully express your deepest feelings.” SHE saw him stick out his tongue and waggle it at HER facetious advice. “What, exactly, has he, excuse ME it, done?”

“A far more apt question is, “What has Brutus Iago Quisling not done?”

LADY MESMER could not contain HERSELF. SHE burst out in unmanageable peals of laughter. For some time SHE could not hold HERSELF erect. When SHE, at long last, was able to do so, tears still streamed from HER eyes. “Please, MY precious petit pet, tell ME you are pulling MY leg.”

He conjectured that if SHE had been telepathic he would have been in serious trouble long ago, and on a myriad of occasions, concerning the number and types of thoughts he had regarding HER lovely legs. HER reference to him pulling HER leg did not make things any easier for him. It, however, did make them more fun and interesting. He hoped SHE would never probe him on such matters while he was in trance. This, of course, assumed SHE had not previously examined his fantasies on this subject. He did not recall HER ever having done so. Then again, would KRYSTAL let him? Asking HER about this might give HER ideas. He knew all too well, by observation and particularly personal experience, SHE had more than enough of those on HER own.

“No, that is its name.”

“Was there a frustrated, Shakespearean thespian dwelling within his matriarch or sire or both?”

“I know next to nothing about his progenitors.”

“What were his parents thinking?”

“Had its parents been thoughtful, his brothers and sisters would have had one less sibling, or pet, or whatever it is.”

“What has he done to your cousin? Is he unfaithful?”

“Judas Iscariot, Delilah, and Benedict Arnold combined were not as faithless as it has been to Liana. When she is not with it, it will chase anything in a skirt, a dress, or wearing anything else.”

“Have you, or anyone else, ever told her about this cad?”

“No, I have not. She told me to never again interfere in her romantic relationships. I don’t think anyone else has told her anything.”

“Are there any places he usually frequents when he’s sniffing for, as it would probably say, “Fresh meat?"”

“Yes. He hangs out in a couple of favorite haunts and watering holes. i’d really like to not think about this mess for a while. Would YOU please do that marvelous and miraculously mind-blowing technique of YOURS with the thumbs? Oh yes! That’s the one. OH! YES!! Thank YOU. Oh! oh YES!!! YOU are sooooooo good. My Goddess YES!!!!...”

KRYSTAL put the finishing touches on HER preparations for HER night’s work. SHE would precisely script everything to the best of HER considerable abilities. SHE reviewed HER appearance in HER favorite full-length mirror. What makeup SHE wore was magnificently dazzling and subtly understated. HER clothing was elegant with just the barest (almost imperceptible, yet, definitely noticeable) hint of coquettishness. HER custom-made, sheer, black, satin, opera-length gloves allowed HER to fully display HER masterfully manicured, perfectly polished, long, and lovely nails. The glovemaker insisted it was not feasible to make gloves which did so. He would not say so to HER again. He would never, ever contradict or disagree with LADY KRYSTAL MESMER about anything again. The piece de resistance, the greatest tool in HER chest, and the mightiest of all items in HER cunningly calculated and crafted arsenal of male mind melting weaponry was a monumental and stunningly gorgeous girasol, tanzanite, and emerald ring. This evening SHE would wear it as a pendant. SHE knew well SHE was fully prepared to execute HER purpose. SHE was definitely dressed to the nines plus four.

SHE tested the CD player before slipping it into HER purse. It performed flawlessly. The compact disc SHE had burned contained several audio clips designed to enhance CUM XUMBRAX’s effects on HER victim’s mind. SHE was pleased with HER selections.

While driving to the first club on HER list, SHE reviewed the data on HER prey. After his tension was relieved and forgotten, Jefferson had unwittingly provided HER an exact description and comprehensive personality profile of Brutus Quisling. He considered himself to be an exceptionally fascinating ladies man. He assumed few men, and no women, were in his league in the romantic arts. He was also quite boastful concerning any of his overblown, meager accomplishments. KRYSTAL foresaw no difficulty in attracting and successfully dealing with him.

SHE easily gained admittance to the club. Rarely did SHE have any setbacks in such matters. Men were almost always so amenable to accommodating HER requests. Before entering, SHE had to select from amongst several eager males who nearly fought to valet park HER car.

SHE was escorted to and seated at the best table in the house. Once there, SHE casually, yet thoroughly, surveyed the patrons. HER eyes located HER quarry attempting to work the room. SHE surreptitiously kept track of his movements while being amiably engaged in some fascinating conversations by several delightful persons.

After some time, a waiter hesitantly approached HER table. “Excuse me, MISS, would YOU like to have something now? There is a gentleman who wishes to buy YOU any drink of YOUR choice.”

“Who is this gentleman? Where is he?”

The slightly agitated cocktail waiter leaned in closer to HER. “LADY MESMER, please listen to me,” he whispered. “It is irregular and most unprofessional for me to interfere with what our customers wish to do. Nevertheless, I feel I must. This man is not suitable for. What I mean to say is he is worthless and most unworthy of YOU.”

“How do you know MY name and title?”

“I have been a happy and grateful member of YOUR En-Tranced club for some time. The management would be furious if they knew what I was doing. But this fellow is abhorrent, odious, and oafish regarding his treatment of the fairer sex.”

“Point him out, please.” SHE saw him quickly gesture towards Brutus Quisling and shake his head slightly. Only SHE saw his actions and knew there import. SHE gazed directly into his eyes and reassuringly stroked his forearm. “I understand. I guarantee all will be well. I hope you take MY meaning.”

“I believe I do,” he said. He could almost feel the awareness and confidence radiating from HER intense, and when SHE chose enigmatic, emerald eyes. His concern for HER was abated, his nervousness started to subside, and his slight smile held fragile traces of knowing.

KRYSTAL beckoned for him to sit next to HER. They had a private and meaningful chat. He then returned to his duties. LADY MESMER smiled to HERSELF. After he got home, this chivalrous, trusting, and potentially self-sacrificing man, would have an experience he would long remember. He would, at least, recall certain portions of what would occur.

SHE accepted Brutus’s offer and ordered HER favorite drink. He quickly followed its arrival and sat down across from HER.

“Hello, babe. As YOU know, I am Brutus Quisling.”

“MY name is KRYSTAL.”

“Names are superfloss and unsignificant. All that matters is how much I want YOU. I know how YOU feel about me. I saw YOU holding a long conversation about me with the drink jockey. Are YOU enjoying my gift?”

“Yes, it is excellent. Thank you for l’aperitif.”

He regarded HER quizzically. “Uh, YOU’re welcome?”

“I find having a drink before dining to be very relaxing. It somehow allows ME to unwind from MY busy, busy day and just be MYSELF.”

“Well, YOU know the old saying, “In vino varieties."”

“Yes, observing someone under the influence of spirits is one effective means of discerning what dwells in that person’s mind, heart, and soul.”

They talked for some minutes. SHE only spoke now and then. He asked HER few questions. He tried to impress HER in every way he could come up with. SHE moved HER slender hands while they conversed. His career prospects, his level of expertise in his avocations, his appreciation of feminine pulchritude, and the list (with explicit and excruciating descriptions) of his expensive toys were his preferred subjects of pointless pontification. SHE drew him out on each topic with little effort. The light frequently flickered from HER nails as they were calculatingly moved. SHE noted his eyes often settled several inches below HER chin and once in a while on HER beautiful hands.

At length, he chose to make known his intentions. “We’re both mature. I’m a man. YOU’re a great looking gal. I’d like to get to know YOU better—in the Bibliotechnical sense.”

“Yes, you and I are legally adults. I am very interested in you. In fact, you are just the man I’ve been searching for.” SHE beheld the gleam in his restless eyes.

He proudly and possessively placed his arm around HER as they departed. His facial expression was victorious and lascivious. When he saw HER car, his eyes nearly popped out of his head. He presumptuously and pedagogically offered to slowly, carefully, and patiently instruct HER in the basic points of automotive maintenance. Later, if SHE wished, he would be glad to tutor HER on the subject’s finer points. He believed SHE considered him gallant. He knew he was being helpful. After all, SHE was a gorgeous woman and a blonde. What could SHE know about cars, or machinery, or anything else? There was one subject he assumed SHE knew well. He hoped he would soon find out. That idea filled his head(s) as he drove. Once they reached his home, SHE parked behind his car.

He showed HER around his home. He took every opportunity to point out his successes. He proudly told HER, “I am very pleased with my socioeconomic status quid pro quo.” KRYSTAL MESMER smiled while he talked. When they returned to the living room, he pressed a button without even glancing at it. The lights dimmed, music began to play, and the poorly refurbished faux marble fireplace started to glow.

They sat together on the loveseat. He never took his eyes off HER. He never beheld HER face’s expressions.

“To quote The Immoral Bard, “What’s in a name?” I don’t remember YOU telling me YOUR last name.”

“It must be the blonde in ME. MY familial name is MESMER.”

“I assume that’s the inebriated Americanized name of the manufacturer of German airplanes used in World War I?”

“You might say that.”

He gently placed one hand on HER thigh. “I always like to relax myself before I engage in Lemuria toujours. Hearing a good joke relaxes me. Say, what did the blonde chemistry major ask about the dictionary?”

“Like, I duh know,” KRYSTAL answered.

“Why isn’t water spelled h-o-o? Oh and that blonde in you must be very tiny.” He laughed much at his two examples of cleverness.

SHE gazed directly into his eyes. “A good source of amusement is a wonderful thing. You are right about one thing. Relaxation is essential before lovemaking and many other things. In fact, there is something I enjoy doing very much. Particularly, when I am in the company of a very unique sort of man such as yourself. One’s palette must be thoroughly cleansed before one can fully enjoy the multitudinous, subtle, and sophisticated sensual pleasures of a fine wine, an excellent meal, or a wonderful cigar. Likewise, one’s mind, heart, and soul must be awakened and prepared before true lovemaking can take place. Yes, deep relaxation is the sorbet of the inner self. I very much desire you to join ME in a little preparation before the inevitable onset of ultimate plea!sure!.” SHE enunciated HER last word as though SHE was offering him an invaluably precious prize.

“What would YOU have me to do,” he inquired expectantly?

“I yearn for both of us to make ourselves as comfortable as we can, sit back, relax, and mutually focus all of our attention on some specific object.” SHE closed HER eyes in pseudocontemplation, then slowly raised HER eyelids. “Uummmrrrrrhhhhhhh,” SHE purred so softly and ever so seductively. “I think MY perfectly polished, long, and lovely nails will serve MY purposes oh so very, very well. Don’t you agree?”

He would have agreed to anything SHE said at that moment. The anticipated expression of his libido was just that strong. He quickly and wordlessly nodded his head(s).

SHE began to slowly move HER fingers back and forth within his field of vision. “Now, we should just let our eyes come to rest upon MY beautiful nails. See the fascinating contrast between the shimmering and sparkling color of MY nails and the dark mysterious color of MY long, lovely, satin gloves. See how the light begins to soft!ly, and slow!ly and sum!ptuous!ly dance before your eyes. Yes, and as we continue to devote more and more of our focus to MY wonderfully manicured and perfectly polished nails. We find that your eyes are slowly and surely becoming more and more relaxed, more and more relaxed, and more and more soothingly heavy, and tired, and sleepy eyes. Good, you are doing so very well. I am so proud of you.”

Throughout the evening, KRYSTAL had reviewed HER perceptions of Quisling. SHE acknowledged Jefferson’s assessment of the man who now lusted for HER had been far too generous. The number and size of his personality and character flaws had been grossly understated by HER erudite, good, little boy. Brutus must be dealt with. He must be dealt with severely. Brutus Iago Quisling must be dealt with now!

SHE knew what he wanted to see. Though he had said nothing, he was a subtle as a collision of supernovas. SHE would make him long regret his bestial desire to reduce HER to nothing but a collection of brainless and soulless body parts. Slowly, so slowly, so very slowly, so meticulously and very slowly SHE moved HER hand toward the focal point of his eyes ever since he’d sat at HER table. SHE could almost see the saliva vulgarly and disgustingly dribbling from the wretched and decrepit fangs within his minuscule and mortified mess of a mind. Quickly SHE brought forth HER ring of power and thrust it into the room’s light. SHE greatly appreciated and undetectably savored the ring’s disconcerting affect on this man.

Before he could react or utter a word, HER velvety voice began weaving its wicked webs and spinning its siren spells. “Now, Brutus Quisling, center your gaze upon my wonderful, magnificent, magical, mystical, and mesmerizing ring. See how effortlessly, easily, and peacefully the three gemstones draw in and captivatingly capture your heavy, tired, and oh so sleepy eyes. In your mind’s eye see yourself falling slowly and comfortably into a soft, relaxing featherbed of soothing and sleepy comfort. And as I count down from thirteen to one, with each number you will feel yourself going deeper and deeper into trance. Thirteen, going deeper and deeper. Twelve, you can not look away from MY perfectly polished nails or MY magical and mesmerizing ring. Eleven, you hear on!ly! MYYYYYYYYYYYYY voice. Ten, MY thoughts becoming your thoughts are MY thoughts. MY entrancing emerald enervates your mind. Nine, MY soft, silky, seductive, and soporific voice echoing in, then overcoming, and at last consuming your empty mind. Eight, MY words are your words. Seven, MY nails and MY ring are all you need to see. Six, MY voice is all you want to hear. MY tanzanite tantalizes your senses. Five, feeling more and more wonderful as you descend deeper and deeper into deep hypnosis. Four, for MY instructions are your instructions are MY instructions which you are asking of yourself. Three, feeling more and more wonderful as you relax down more and more. MY girasol garroting your resistance. Two, for MY will is stronger than your will. And now one, awaiting MY instructions and ready to perfectly obey MY commands. For MY will is so much stronger than your menial, mendacious, meretricious, and soon to be eviscerated and emasculated (though the latter is in no wise difficult), male, chauvinist piggish will.”

While performing HER ring induction, SHE moved HER hand over HER breast. Sometimes HER movements were circular, and sometimes they were linear. Some of HER gestures were vertical, and others were horizontal. At times SHE moved over one breast, at other times SHE moved around or across the other, and still at other times SHE moved the ring that ruled his rude, repugnant, rudimentary, and reptilian mind across or around both breasts. He had gotten what he wanted. In the end, blonde, harmless, little LADY KRYSTAL MESMER had him.

Brutus Quisling was thoroughly confused. He did not know who was laughing. He wondered where that laugh was coming from? He wished he knew where he was. He groggily realized he was in his bedroom. He hoped he had gotten lucky with that gorgeous blonde. What was HER name? Again there was that laughter. His hand quickly reached out for the bedside table lamp. Why was he naked? He remembered. He could not recall what he remembered. Who was this woman whose laughter mocked and menaced him from nowhere and yet everywhere? Where was that music and that man’s voice coming from. What had he said? Where was that bitch who still contemptuously laughed him to scorn? What did SHE find so amusing?

Again SHE laughed. “So, you pompous, pugnacious, pathetic, pusillanimous, and puerile excuse for an overgrown and infantile little boy who presumes to call itself a man, I see you are conscious. Or as conscious as something with such a severely limited mind can ever be.”

“YOU broad, YOU bitch, YOU vertigo! who are you?”

SHE clicked HER tongue derisively. “Such language from someone who is so completely helpless against the awesome powers of MY oh so full and feminine forces.”

“Why can’t I see YOU?”

I have completely clouded your conspicuously contemptible mind. You shall never behold the legendary loveliness of CUM XUMBRAX.”

“Where is that blonde? Where is, uh... uh KRYSTAL?”

“I have saved HER from your loathsome and lustful loins. Now, you must deal with ME. Oh no, no, no. Now, I shall deal with you.” HER laughter seemed to come from everywhere.

“When I get up, I am going to.”

“You can not move, unless I permit it. Listen well, satyr. For now, you can only move your left arm. The harder you try to move your right arm or either of your legs, the more paralyzed that limb will become. Try and get up if you can.”

What kind of witch’s trick was this? It was as SHE foretold. How had SHE done this? He could push himself up to a sitting position with his nondominant hand. He could do no more. That damned laughter came once more. He could almost feel HER confidence growing.

“If I could only see you.”

The ceiling light was turned on. He did not know how. He saw himself and everything else in his bedchamber. All was as it should have been. He could see no woman.

“Release me,” he demanded.

“Of course I will,” SHE fell silent for interminable moments, “not!” That laugh, that accursed laugh echoed in his mind. “Listen well, satyr. Now none of your limbs will respond to your desires. Try and resist MY powers, if you dare.”

No woman could do this to him. No broad would ever tell him what to do. He would show HER. He did show HER. He was absolutely immobile. Well, not quite it seems. At least his head could move.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“You have mistreated many women. Do not attempt to lie. I am everywhere. I am nowhere. I am inside your mind—what little of it exists. I am the voice of truth. I am what your conscience should have been. I am your judge. I am your tormentor. I know all things. I am CUM XUMBRAX.” SHE laughed and laughed and laughed.

“You don’t know me. You know nothing about me.”

“Indeed, Brutus Iago Quisling. You have attempted to deceive ME. Now for your punishment. What shall it be?” There was silence for some time. “Listen well, satyr. When you hear ME laugh, you will become more and more aroused. The more you hear MY laughter, the stronger and stronger your arousal shall become. You will only be able to release this hot, terrifying, and unstoppable sexual pressure at MY command. When you hear ME laugh, your wretched scalp will itch. The more you hear MY laughter, the more your worthless scalp will itch. You can not scratch this itch until I give you leave. Listen well, satyr. You can now move your arms and hands. You can not use them to touch or relieve your itchy scalp or the tremendous arousal of your miniature and meaningless manhood. Listen well satyr. You must obey ME. For MY will is stronger than your will.”

He heard that laugh. The arousal commenced. He wondered why SHE called him that word, satyr? His scalp did start to itch. More of HER evil laughter. The itch was getting worse. The arousal was stronger now. Why did SHE continue to call him by that word? He moved his hand(s) toward one or the other. He could not touch either one. More and more SHE laughed. The two sensations were unbearable now. Why did SHE mistakenly use that word for him? He was not a Jewish man. Not seeing his ACCUSER and TORMENTOR was unnerving. Now he knew why he feared the darkness as a child. That SHE exerted absolute control over his body was agonizing. He always suspected those voodoo movies were based on fact. He could move his arms. It did him no good at all. SHE was right again. SHE was always right. SHE was in complete control. Did SHE know how he had interacted with women? He did not dare to openly question HER knowledge or HER powers.

He could stand it no longer. He screamed again and again. He begged for mercy. He promised HER anything SHE desired. SHE just continued HER merciless, menacing laughter at his expense.

“What do YOU want,” he whimpered.

“We have much to discuss. You, Brutus Iago Quisling, will have much to learn and even more to do.”

Jefferson Thomason was whistling as he strode through the door. SHE had never known him to do that.

“Well, well someone is a happy camper today.”

“You are? Please forgive me for not noticing,” he quipped.

“Will you tell ME the good news?”

“Mr. Quisling has undergone a marvelously miraculous and apparently meaningful metamorphosis.”

“Did I hear you say, Mr. Quisling? You do not call this entity it?”

“To answer YOUR questions, yes I did and not often. It is amazing to behold and absolutely wonderful for my cousin.”

“What are the changes in him?”

“He is being honest with and faithful to Liana. He sent her a letter listing every instance of his infidelity. The letter included: names of the other women; the locations of their rendez-vouses; the times when they were together; and all contact information for each female. In her presence, he burned, shredded, or destroyed every memento from each of his previous affairs. He is, at her insistence, undergoing intensive psychotherapy with a male psychiatrist. He barely looks at any other woman, whether he is, or is not, with my cousin.”

“I imagine Miss O’Hara is quite pleased?”

“Exuberant, ecstatic, and overjoyed would be nearer the mark.”

“What brought on his salubrious transformation?”

“That’s the oddest thing of all. No one knows. He swears he did not write or send the letter. He, however, could not deny the handwriting, in the letter and on the envelope, was his. There was one morning when he woke up with the mother and grandmother of all hangovers. He says he only remembers having a couple of cocktails the night before. Now he is virtually a teetotaler. Whatever the cause, all of us are much relieved and very, very thankful.”

“I suppose the Romans were right when they said, “in wine truth."”

“So it seems.”

“And the other women?”

“It seems Brutus Iago Quisling has at last gained some humility and developed a conscience in such matters.”

“I am quite pleased things have worked out for the better.”

“You and everyone concerned.”

“Oh, by the way Jefferson, have I shown you MY brand spanking new, harmless, little ? ....”

LADY KRYSTAL MESMER stretched out luxuriantly on the wonderful mattress atop HER exceptionally comfortable, queen-sized, canopied, four-posted bed with its richly decorated, hand carved, antique bedstead. SHE reviewed the first instance of CUM XUMBRAX’s handiwork. HER postmesmeric suggestions to Brutus Quisling had been obeyed to the letter. One day, he might even be a barely acceptable male. SHE seriously doubted he would ever be worthy of holding the designation of, “man.” Things had gone far better than even SHE could ever have imagined. HER newest hypnotic power exceedingly surpassed HER wildest dreams or fantasies. HER scruples, determination, and inventiveness were the primary limiting factors to what SHE could now accomplish. SHE smiled to HERSELF. When it became necessary certain deserving (or more to the point undeserving) and reprobate individuals would come to learn (much to their incredulous shock, abject consternation, and everlasting horror) there was ONE HUMAN BEING, besides these reprehensible men and in rare cases those traitors to their sex known as inferior women, who assuredly and accurately knew what evil lurked in their hearts. Their weeds of crime would bear bitter fruit. As they had sown evil, so would they reap evil. CUM XUMBRAX knows.

THE END.