The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Hotel Metropole in Brussels was one of the great hotels of the Gilded Age. Built in 1894, it was an architectural wonder of stone, gilt, crystal and velvet. The Metropole was a palace, equipped with the most up-to-date facilities: lifts, electricity and central heating, not to mention the richness of the decor. Inside, all architectural styles were implemented in luxury and richness of materials: panelling, polished teak, marble of Namibia, gilded bronze and forged iron, all expressed style and comfort. The construction of the additional floors in 1932 was carried out by Adrien Blomme who designed an authentic Art Nouveau masterpiece combining superb technical process with a refined aesthetic. The facade of yellow Travertine opened out on the Rue Neuve with large glazed bays.

The hotel had been requisitioned for four years by the German occupation, and now, in 1944, it was again requisitioned, this time by the Allies.

Elizabeth Montgomery descended the enormous mahogany staircase to the marble lobby, past the deserted reception desk to the soldiers’ refectory. She noted that the cubby holes behind Reception were filthy with dust. There were great pale rectangles on the walls of the lobby, the ghosts of paintings looted by the departing German army. The hotel struggled to preserve the reminders of its glorious past; but on the surface it was sad and dilapidated. The restaurant and games rooms had been converted into a USO: a rest-and-recreation facility for Allied soldiers. Elizabeth was a Junior Hostess, responsible for helping entertain the men on short leave from the Front. She had been seconded to the post by Major Garnier, her commanding officer at Sandheath in England. It was a plum assignment; she didn’t know why Major Garnier had selected her—she hardly knew him—but she was delighted at such an exciting post, close to the Front

It was early morning, and the restaurant was almost deserted. Sally and Felice, two of the other Junior Hostesses, were cleaning the tables, preparatory for that afternoon’s influx of soldiers.

“Hi, Sally! Hi, Felice! What’s this, tablecloths?” said Elizabeth. The girls had spread red-and-white checked tablecloths over almost half the tables in the big room.

Sally was a hearty, good-natured girl from Chicago who had signed on with the WACS early in the war. “Good, aren’t they? Madame Lafarge got them from one of the butchers. I think they were in that cafe that got bombed out last week. I sewed up a few tears, and they’re good as new!”

“Oui, eet ees a lot more cheerful,” said Felice. “Covers up ze stains.” Felice was from the Free French. She had fought in the Resistance early in the War, and then fled to Brussels after D-Day. Felice was tall, slender and very blonde. She confessed to having a ‘thing’ for American soldiers, and Elizabeth suspected Felice of being a bit promiscuous. But Felice, like Sally, took her job seriously, and Elizabeth had taken an instant liking to the two girls.

Elizabeth walked past the kitchens to Madame Lafarge’s office. Madame Lafarge was the Senior Hostess, and ran the USO. She was always up before the girls, busy with orders for provisions, planning meals, and supervising preparations for cleaning and entertainment. “Ah, hello, Elizabeth. Did you sleep well?”

“Oh yes, Madame. That room you’ve put me in, it’s beautiful. I’ve never stayed in a room like that. The bed is so big, and the room has its own WC... um, ‘en suite’.”

“Yes, it is very nice that they have given us this big hotel for the USO.” Madame’s English was slightly accented, but very good. “It was a famous hotel. That room you are in, Albert Einstein slept there. In 1911, when the Solvay Physics Board met here. You have heard of Albert Einstein, yes?”

“He’s... he’s a scientist, isn’t he?”

“Hm. I will have you learn more about the history of the hotel. Some of the soldiers, they may find it interesting if you tell them about it. You must learn whatever is necessary to please and entertain them. Remind me, how many days have you been here?”

“This is my third full day, Madame.”

“And are you comfortable with what you have been doing? Bringing the men food and drink, taking their orders, chatting with them?”

“Oh yes, Madame. The other girls have shown me what to do. They’ve been very kind. I’m still getting used to the American boys, though. Some of them are rather fresh. I have to stop them from trying to touch me when I bring the drinks.”

“Is it a problem? Would you rather not serve? I could have you work in the kitchen.”

“Oh no, Madame. I can handle them, I’m sure. And they don’t mean any harm, they’re just being saucy.” Elizabeth did not want to work in the kitchen. It was June, and stifling hot, and when she fetched food from the kitchen she wondered how Sally and the other kitchen workers stood the heat.

“Very good. Another thing: Major Garnier told me that you can sing. I sometimes have my girls perform songs for the men. You heard Felice and Sally last night. Very pretty. I will plan a trio. I hope that is OK with you. And now, it is time to continue with your training for the job. Would you please look at this globe? Give it your especial attention, little kitten.”

Madame Lafarge turned to a globe of the world on her side table, put a hand to it, and started it spinning. “Watch the globe, little kitten.”

Elizabeth looked at the globe with a startled expression, which faded to a blank stare. She sank into a depression that was so deep, it was anaesthetizing. Logic, fear and intention vanished, like cockroaches scattering when a light is switched on. The globe spun round and round, round and round, and her eyes flicked right and left as she tried to follow it. Her breathing became slow and deep.

“That’s very good, little kitten. Oh, Major Garnier conditioned you very well. I must send him a note to thank him. You will be popular here. A pretty English girl, well—how do you say?—well-bred. They will love you. And now, little kitten, we must talk some more about your work here. I told you all this yesterday, and before that, but it will do no harm to reinforce it. These soldiers, these boys, they have been far from home, living with danger, on poor food and no rest. They come here because they need something. They need Comfort. That is the word. Comfort. For you, this is becoming a very important word. Comfort. Say the word.”

Without taking her gaze from the spinning globe, Elizabeth whispered the word: “Comfort”.

“That is right, little kitten. They need comfort. They are your brave boys, your brave soldiers, fighting for you, for us. You should reward them. You want to take care of them. You want to give them the only thing they need. Tell me what they need.”

“Comfort.”

“Good. And in future, when I say that word to you, only myself and no-one else, when I say that word you will want to give comfort to... Well, you will know who it is. I will show you. Now, the globe is slowing down, and you are awakening. You will not recall this conversation, but it will become true anyway. The globe is stopping now, and you are awake. Well, Elizabeth, that is all I have to say to you now. Do we understand one another?“

“Uh... I... um, yes, Madame Lafarge, I’m sorry, I was a little dizzy for a moment... Oh yes, the trio. Of course, I’d be happy to sing with the girls. That sounds like fun!”

“Off you go now, Elizabeth. Your shift starts at four. I have had some other dresses sent to your room. Try them on. Of course we never wear uniform here, the boys want to see you as an ordinary pretty girl, to remind them of civilian life. See you later.”

It was evening, and the hall was noisy with soldiers. They sat at the tables, eating, playing cards, talking, roaring with laughter and drinking. (The USO served non-alcoholic drinks only.) Elizabeth hurried from table to table, taking orders and delivering drinks and food. Some of the men openly ogled her and made suggestive remarks.

“Hey, Elizabeth, I like that blue dress. Will you meet me later and let me help you out of it?”

“Miss,can we have another order of chips, and four sodas, and you on a plate?”

Elizabeth laughed and deftly parried their flirting. “You boys will have to win the war before you get your dessert!”

During a lull, Madame Lafarge took Elizabeth aside. “Elizabeth, do you see that young lieutenant by the jukebox?”

Elizabeth saw a good-looking young blonde American. He was sitting on his own, looking tired and glum.

“He is the son of a... old lover of mine. I would like you to go talk to him, and cheer him up. He needs some... comfort.“

At that word, Elizabeth felt a strange light-headedness. For a moment she was dizzy, and the din of the hall seemed far away. All her attention was focused on the young officer. At once she walked over to him, and asked if she could sit with him and chat for a few moments.

They quickly got acquainted. His name was William, he was from Oregon, and he was twenty-four, five years older than Elizabeth. She found him a very attractive young man, easily the nicest boy she had met here. She tempted him out of his gloom, and he told her a few funny things that had happened in the trenches. He didn’t dwell on the horrors. He confessed to being very tired. “I don’t have to get back to my unit until tomorrow. I need to rest. Do you know if there is anywhere around here I could stay? Maybe a guest house that takes in officers?”

“I’ll ask Madame Lafarge. She sometimes lets officers sleep in the hotel.”

Elizabeth was back in a few minutes. “She says yes! Apparently she met your father—Colonel Dobbin?—just after Normandy. You’re lucky, not everyone gets special treatment. Come on, you can collect the key.”

Madame Lafarge was back in her office. She exchanged a few polite words with William, and gave him a room key. “Elizabeth, you can skip the rest of your shift. The other girls can handle it. Show Lieutenant Dobbin to his room. And make sure he has everything he requires.” She gave Elizabeth a broad wink.

They walked off toward the stairs. Elizabeth’s face was red with embarrassment. Madame was just poking fun, certainly, but she shouldn’t have suggested any impropriety on Elizabeth’s part. The Junior Hostesses were allowed a little gentle flirting with the soldiers, but nothing beyond that was permitted.

“What is your room number—it says on the key—oh. Oh. It’s right next to mine. Well, that’s convenient, um, if you need anything.” Then her blush went even deeper. The young officer said nothing. He appeared to be discomfited as well. They reached the second floor, and she showed him down the long marble hall. “They clean these rooms every day. There should be everything you need: pyjamas, soap, and... well.. Here’s your room. If you need anything else, just let me know. My room is, is, right next door. Number 204. Oh dear. It was lovely meeting you, if I don’t see you again.”

She awkwardly shook his hand and then hurried to her room without looking back. She closed her door behind her and stood with her back against it. How embarrassing! What if he had gotten the wrong idea? Madame should not have made that innuendo. Well, there was nothing to be done now.

Then it struck her that her room had a connecting door to the adjoining room. She hurried to the door and confirmed that the bolt was set. It wouldn’t do for him to... but why would he? She had been perfectly decorous; she had barely touched his hand. She hadn’t led him on at all; had she?

Elizabeth chided herself for worrying so. Nothing would happen. She confirmed that her door was locked, and prepared for bed. She washed in the en-suite, and opened the window to the faint breeze. Ten o’clock, and it was still so hot! Elizabeth liked to sleep in the nude in this hot weather, covered only by one of the hotel’s exquisite Egyptian cotton sheets—one of the things the Germans had not looted when they fled.

Sleep did not come. She was thinking of the young lieutenant in the next room, only a few yards away. What did he think of her? Did he imagine she was available, from Madame Lafarge’s innuendo? Was he wondering whether to call on her, with the pretext of needing toothpaste or something? Was the situation keeping him from sleep, as it was her? That wouldn’t do. If nothing else, she had a responsibility to put his mind at rest, so he could get a good night’s sleep.

Elizabeth decided to speak to him, to make it clear how things stood. She resolved to be polite and firm with him. She knew exactly what she would say. In the wardrobe, with the new dresses, was a long silk Chinese robe, yellow with a pattern of red dragons. She drew it on and tied the sash. She opened her door and stepped out into the hall.

At the same moment, Bill stepped out into the hall from his room. They stared at one another. He spoke first: “Um... I just wanted you to know that... um... what Madame Lafarge said...”

Elizabeth’s carefully planned speech evaporated. “I know. She, um,. shouldn’t have...”

“And I didn’t, um, take it to mean... I mean, I know you’re...uh, you’re not...”

“Of course, she was just being silly...”

“Of course... And anyway, I don’t want to.. Oh gosh, that’s not what I mean, I mean you’re very pretty but I...”

“Well yes, um, thank you, and of course if we had known each other longer.. but not that I would...oh dear...”

“I guess we should say goodnight.”

“Yes, goodnight. Sweet... uh, goodnight.”

Elizabeth slid back into bed. She felt rattled. The conversation had been so stilted—had she made her point? She hadn’t been collected and firm at all. It was his fault, for coming into the corridor at the same time she did. And, she thought, why had he done that? He must be feeling—something for her. Maybe he thought she really was supposed to do what Madame Lafarge suggested, and he wanted to let her know that she didn’t have to. Unless she wanted to. But of course she didn’t, she was sure of that. Wasn’t she? She examined her own feelings. Of course she wouldn’t sleep with a boy she had just met, even if he was a very handsome soldier, who needed respite after his ordeal in the trenches and who was far from home and was risking his life fighting for his country and for her, and who only wanted some comfort. Which was in her power to give him.

What would happen, she thought, if he came through that door seeking comfort? Maybe he would sit on the bed and lean down and kiss her. What would that be like? She ran a finger along her lips. I’ve only slept with one other boy. I mean, I’ve only slept with ONE boy she thought—Are all boys the same in bed? Her few trysts with her airman back in England had been hasty and furtive, never in a proper bed, in dark corners of the air base.

She imagined William in bed with her, kissing her and putting a hand on her breast. Her own hand slid up to her breast and began to caress it. He would probably want to kiss her breast too—she knew boys liked that. She began to pinch and roll the nipple, which crinkled and grew stiff between her fingers. She imagined William’s hand stroking her belly and thighs—her own hand followed. She felt a growing heat, and threw off the sheet. Elizabeth didn’t often touch herself—she had heard that it was degrading—but the arousal was overcoming her scruples. If William was with her, he might stroke her between her legs. She touched herself there, and felt a tightening inside her as her body responded. What would he do next?

There was a sudden thump from the next room. Startled, she pulled the sheet back over her. It’s nothing, William must have dropped something. So he was still awake. She thought Maybe he can’t sleep either. We left things up in the air. Ambiguous. The poor boy, he needs some rest. He needs to know for sure that nothing is going to happen between us.

She resolved that she would have to confront him again, and settle things, so they both could sleep. She got up,and pulled on the Chinese robe again. She knotted the sash, and then, after a second’s consideration, she knotted it twice more, pulling the knots tight as she could. Just so he wouldn’t get the wrong idea.

Elizabeth went to the connecting door and pulled the bolt. She took a deep breath and slid the door open.

William was standing there, a few inches away, hand raised to knock. They stared at one another. Then he seized her by the waist, her arms went around his neck, and they kissed, hard. Her teeth ground against his. He turned and pirouetted her into his room. They kissed and kissed; then his hands descended to the knots on her robe and he ineffectually tried to untie them. Desire made his fingers feel large and clumsy, and she had pulled the knots too tight.

Elizabeth pulled back, and grabbed his hands, holding them tight between her own. “No, William, dear William, you mustn’t, we mustn’t. I’ve never, not with a boy I just met, and it’s not allowed. Madame doesn’t allow it. Stop. Please stop. Don’t. Let’s just stop.” Holding his hands tight, she drew him over to the plush sofa and pulled him down to sit beside her. “We can just sit together here, that’s nice, isn’t it? We’re just sitting here, not doing anything. It’s OK.” She kept speaking to calm him, as she would calm an excited horse.

William didn’t speak. He stared at her, and calmed, and his breathing slowed. “That’s good,” she said. “We can sit together quietly for a while. Let’s just sit quietly.” She put her head on his shoulder. She kept hold of his hands, lest they should roam. William put his head back and closed his eyes. She could see how tired he was. After a while his breathing grew deep and regular. His eyes visibly moved beneath his closed eyelids.

Elizabeth watched him. He had suffered so much, she thought, for the sake of millions of people in his country and in the world. He had suffered for her. Her brave man. Her soldier. And as she watched him, she loved him. He was her hero. How could she deny him anything, this brave hero? She knew, maybe better than he did, the comfort he required.

And then she was kissing him, planting kisses on his cheek and ear and neck, telling him that he should wake up, he shouldn’t sleep here on the sofa, it was time for bed.

He startled awake, disoriented. He stared at her, face to face. In that moment she seemed to see deep within his startlingly blue eyes. She felt that their souls were touching. “I’ll do anything you want,” she murmured.

He stumbled to his feet. In two strides he was across the room. Facing the wall, he put his hand on the light switch. “Elizabeth, if I turn out the light, will you take off your robe?”

Behind him there was a whisper of silk. “I already have,” she said.