The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Count Nikolai Dmitriev was an altogether different man than his fellow Russian countryman Madame Laurent had just left. Physically, he cut a far more impressive figure. In his mid-thirties, time had done little to rob him of his robust frame or strong jawline. A lifetime of scowling had added a few lines to his otherwise handsome face. He was quiet stiff, sometimes to the point of being abrasive, and was known as a bit of recluse. Perhaps that was why he choose not to take rooms at the Russian embassy, but instead preferred his own modest dwellings several blocks away on the Rue du Faubourg St. Honore.

As the Tsar’s minister and trusted confidant, he had intimate knowledge of the inner workings of Russia’s government. There was no one from clerk to minister that served the Tsar with whom the count was not acquainted. Indeed, a good many of them owed their careers to his influence, a fact he rarely let them forget.

While Count Dmitriev had served his Tsar’s interests, he had also served his own. A master of the mechanics of state, he had methodically constructed a powerbase within the government bureaucracy. For the time being, he held no official position within the Tsar’s government, though his network still made him one of the Tsar’s most powerful advisors.

He was in Paris supposedly for his health, but few believed that story. It was an open secret that he’d been dispatched to Paris to study the French way of governance, to see if there was any wisdom he could import to his own country, or—it was whispered—to find vulnerabilities he could exploit. Many in France suspected that the count had been working subtly to undermine the Russo-French alliance for many years, twisting Russian policy where he could to counter French interests, and manipulating influential members of the Russian court to support renewed hostilities. With war on the morning horizon, it seemed Count Dmitriev was going to get his wish.

It was for all these reasons—his favorable looks, his chilly air of superiority, and most of all, his hatred of l’Empereur—that Odette especially enjoyed breaking him. It was not personal pleasure that set her about today’s tasks, but service to her great Empereur. Count Dmitriev would no doubt have a wealth of information to surrender to her. That said, no one could complain if she took some satisfaction in drawing it out of him. Well, Count Dmitriev might have cause to object, but that rated little in her eyes.

When she arrived at his apartments, a servant icily informed her that his lordship was busy and was currently not entertaining visitors. Only after several minutes, and more than several carefully chosen words, was she able to obtain admittance. The servant showed her to the count’s office, announced her presence, and then quietly left, closing the door behind him. Curiously once the door shut, the servant forgot the whole encounter, but was filled with an unnatural intuition that, above all things, the count must not be disturbed for several hours.

“Ah, my dear Count Dmitriev. I am honored you have found some time for me!” Odette glided over to his desk. The Count did not get up to greet her, or even put down his pen. He merely glanced up, barely trying to hide his look of annoyance.

“Madame Laurent.” He spoke through a sardonic smile. “You grace me with your presence. I am afraid however, that I am quite detained by my correspondence at the moment. Perhaps I may call on you at a later date?”

Undeterred by the rude welcome, Odette graced him with a polite smile. “Gahhh! Count, I am sorry to force myself on you so. It is only… I heard a wild rumor you may soon be leaving us, and found I could not bear the thought!”

“So word has spread already?” The Count frowned in annoyance. “Your countrymen do indeed like to gossip. Yes Madame, the Tsar has called me back to St. Petersburg.”

“But, your work? Did you not say that it was important?”

“I said it was vital,” The Count corrected her.

Odette inwardly rolled her eyes. She’d already plucked the Count’s mind about his ‘vital’ work and found most of it trivial. Reforms to government bureaucracy, she suspected conveniently couched in ways that offered opportunities for him to increase his own powerbase. Not that he’d ever get a chance to implement them. Once her empereur succeeded, governance of the Count’s backwater nation would be dictated by French ministers. At this thought, Odette was unable to suppress a smile. Thankfully, the Count failed to notice.

“My work is to be concluded by that fool Myshkin,” The Count said, not bothering to hide his disgust at these last words.

Madame blinked. “Oh, I know Prince Myshkin, and like him! Ah, but you must forgive me. I am a simple woman, and know little of the affairs of state.”

“Indeed.” He grumbled while adjusting his pen. “Suffice it to say Madame, I don’t believe affairs will prosper under his guidance.”

“Oh, how horrible you are leaving, my Count! Paris will miss you so!” Both Odette and Count Dmitriev knew Paris would miss him not at all. On the contrary, there were likely to be great parties thrown to celebrate his absence.

“You are kind to say so,” Count Dmitriev replied flatly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Madame Laurent, as I am sure you can guess, there are a number of maters requiring my attention before I take leave of your city.” He evidently decided that should be the last word in the conversation and resumed scribbling on his papers without waiting for a response.

“But of course, Count. I will leave you now.” Odette turned and prepared to walk out, but stopped as her eyes hovered on a clock by the door. “Oh my Count, can that clock be correct?”

“I have no reason to think otherwise, Madame,” he said, not looking up from his papers.

“Gahhh! I had not realized the hour was so late. Why if it is accurate as you say it is, then it is time to serve l’Empereur.”

The pen slipped from Count Dmitriev hand, splattering ink across his carefully crafted letter. He glanced up Madame Laurent with a faraway look in his eyes. “Time to serve l’Empereur…”

The pleasantness evaporated from Madame Laurent’s voice. “Come over here little count. Kneel before me.” The count awkwardly drew himself up from his chair and walked stiffly across the room, kneeling at Madame Laurent’s feet. “This is your proper place, is it not, count?”

“Proper place, yes Madame.”

“Yes, it is. Beneath me, that is where you belong,” Odette no longer hid her contempt. She would get the information she’d come for and would punish Count Dmitriev for his rudeness in the interim. “It reminds you that you that I am your superior in every way. Does it not? Compared to me, you are just a pathetic little man.”

“Yes, Madame.”

“Très bien, mon comte I see you are being respectful now. It is good to be polite to me. It is good to do the things I tell you. That is what one should do when they are in the presence of their betters. Just as you order your servants around, I order you around. It is the way of things. I order, and you obey. Agree with me now.”

“Yes, Madame. It is the way of things.”

“Oui, it is. So now I will give you an order, and you will obey. You will tell me what plans your Tsar has made for the upcoming war. I know he has been making arrangements, for surely that is why he has recalled you. Little dog that you are, you come running to him. So tell me, count, what preparations has he made, hmm? What strategies is he preparing to meet mon Empereur.”

“I—,” Count Dmitriev stammered. “I can’t stay, Madame.”

“You will tell me, count! I order and you obey, remember?”

“I’m sorry, Madame. I cannot betray the Tsar.”

“Very well, count. I see you insist on being difficult. You will regret it, I assure you.” Madame Laurent glared down at Count Dmitriev with narrowing eyes. He had always been a stubborn conquest. Even when she’d been harvesting small bits of information about his work, he’d still fought against her control. In truth, Odette preferred it this way. The fun was not in enjoying the spoils of war, but rather the fight to obtain them. If Count Dmitriev wished a battle of wills, then Odette was more than willing to oblige. Much like her beloved empereur, she would delight in routing her Russian counterpart from the field.

“Let’s play a little game, Nikolai.” Odette giggled. The new lilt in her voice signaled a false truce. “Would you like to play a game—a naughty game—with me?”

Count Dmitriev relaxed and nodded.

“Good, we shall have fun. Take out your cock. Play with yourself now.”

With another eager nod, Count Dmirtriev managed to loosen his belt in one quick motion. The pants were more of a struggle. Still kneeling, he hastily inched them down until they were trapped at the knee, unabashedly barring himself before Odette. The count took himself in hand and began to stroke.

“Oh, I see we already excited,” Odette said in a slower sultry voice just above a whisper. “Très bien, stare up at me now, my count. I am so good to look upon. Ah, that is good, keep going and gaze up at me. A little game—my count—while you handle yourself. Tell me I am lovely.”

“You are lovely, Madame Laurent.”

“Ah, oui? What do you like best about me? Is it my eyes? They are radiant, non? Let them capture you now. So beautiful to look at. You could just fall into them” Odette let her emerald eyes shine. The eyes of an angel devoted to doing the devil’s work, she’d yet to meet anyone who could last more than a minute under her gaze. From the expression on his face, Count Dmitriev was already captured.

“Or my scent perhaps?” She leaned down, bringing her face almost level with his own. “Here, smell it. Just a little whiff. A little whiff for my little count. I smell divine, do I not? Like a lovely spring morning in the garden. Tell me I smell divine, count.”

“You do, Madame,” he smiled up. “Divine.”

“Ah good. So what do you like best of me. My scent or my eyes?”

“I—” He considered the question but was cut off before he could muster an answer.

“Ah, but of course, you cannot answer yet. For I have not shown you all of me. Keep your hand moving, little count. Don’t let it slow. Now then, perhaps it is my touch. Oh yes! I have such soft skin.” She traced her fingertips along the count’s cheek. “I can see you agree. I am soft all over. Why even my feet!” Odette slipped off her shoe, revealing her white-stockinged foot. Lifting herself back up, she ran her silk covered toes up along the counts face, before laying them to rest on his forehead and giving him a gentle push back.

“ugghh…” The count groaned and suddenly twitched.

“Ah no, Count! It is not the time yet! You may not spill your seed until I say so. That is the game.”

“But—”

“No buts, little count. I am your superior. I have given you an order and you must obey. That is the way of things. You have agreed. Say it for me now, count.”

“You give an order and I must obey,” he said as his cheeks colored with embarrassment. “That is the way of things.”

“Yes. Good… You have been very difficult today, count. You are lucky that I am kind to you.” Odette savored her small victory. He was not ready to break just yet, but the cracks in the façade were clear. All that was needed now was some gentle pressure and his will would shatter. “Now, back to the game. Where were we? Ah yes, you’ve felt my touch and you’ve sampled my scent. You’ve looked in my eyes. Oh, but count, there are so many other lovely parts of me to experience. Shall I show you?

“Yes, Madame,” the count breathed. “Please.”

“Okay, I shall show you. But only if you promise you shall be good. No more difficulties. You promise, yes?

“Yes, Madame. I promise.”

“Good. Keep your hand moving. Look how hard you are now. But remember, only I can give you permission for release, yes? Now what else to show you.” Odette pretended to ponder the question.

“Why have you seen my little toes, count?” Odette shifted her foot until it was level with the count’s gaze. “You see through the stocking. Look, they are painted! That is the French way. Your women do not have this in your country, I think.” She rocked her foot back and forth, causing Count Dmitriev to shake his head without thought. Odette giggled at the sight. “How tragic for you, count. Your women are so unsophisticated. Lucky you have me in your life. Now, my toes are adorable, but they are only a very small part of me. Here, look now.”

Odette began to lift her dress. Slowly, the green folds of her gown rose to reveal stockinged legs beneath. She pulled the fabric up, past her garters, eventually showing the smallest hint of the shapely bare thighs beneath. Odette leered down at the count, but he failed to notice. His gaze had shifted down.

“How lovely my legs are, count. Don’t you just wish they would wrap themselves around you? Or perhaps you’d like to run your hands up and down them? Oh, but you cannot, for one of your hands is occupied,” Odette snickered. “Don’t worry, I have something else to show you. My bare bottom! Wouldn’t you like to see that?”

Odette turned and lifted the fabric of her dress a few inches higher. She twisted the cloth in her hands so that the dress slid further up legs, showcasing her soft curves. The green silk came to a rest just below the swell of her rear.

Count Dmitriev gave off a meek moan.

“I am sorry,” Odette teased lightly. “Was that a yes?

“Yes.”

“Then ask me to show it to you.”

“Please…” the count sighed. “Please show it to me, Madame Laurent.”

“Okay, my count. I see you are being very good now.” She gave the folds of her dress another pull, revealing her porcelain cheeks. “How lovely, yes? Smooth as a baby’s bottom, as they say. And since you are being so very good now, my count, I will give you a little gift. I will let you kiss it. Just a little kiss. Would you like that, my little count?

The count responded with hungry sigh. “Yes, Madame. Thank you.”

“You are welcome. Go on now. Just a little peck.”

Count Dmitriev leaned in and planted a soft kiss. Pressed against her rear, Odette could feel him melt on contact. The allure of her flesh had softened the count’s stiff resolve. Perhaps involuntarily, he allowed his tongue to poke its way out of his mouth, giving Madame’s skin the gentlest of licks.

“Gahhh!” Odette pushed his head away. She dropped the folds of her dress, and in an instant, her lovely rear was lost to the count. Odette rounded on him with indignation. “I did not say you can slobber all over me. How pathetic you are to take such liberties.”

He looked down at the ground. “I am sorry, Madame Laurent.”

“Are you? I do not believe you. If so, you would agree with me that you are pathetic. Say it for me now count, and perhaps I will forgive you.”

“I am pathetic, Madame,” Count Dmitriev nodded. Odette noticed no hesitation in his humbling of himself. Better still, his hand continued to work.

“Ah, of course. You could not help it, sad little beast that you are. Look back up at me, my sad count. Yes, that is better. Are you ready for release now?”

“Yes!” He straightened. “Please Madame.”

“But I still have more to show you.” She whispered in a seductive tone while playing with the hem of her lowcut neckline. “Would you like to see, my little count?”

“Oh yes, Madame,” Count Dmitriev exhaled greedily.

“Of course you do, count! How could you not. But you must promise now, and no more broken promises… Promise me that you will be good and obey. Just as you should.”

“I promise Madame,” he grunted. His body shuddered. “Good and obey.”

“Très bien, mon comte. Très bien. I believe you.” Her hands found the edge of her dress and began to pull down. The green silk slipped from her shoulders and arms in a slow tease, exposing what lay beneath it. Even in the dim light of Count Dmitriev’s office, the aura of Odette’s fair skin shined. When the neckline fell past the swell of her bosom, she heard a sharp intake from below. The hapless Russian count’s eyes had instantly locked on Odette’s pert breasts. She stopped the dress just below the bellybutton and stared down at the prostrating Russian nobleman.

Odette’s malevolent satisfaction was written plainly on her face, though the count’s eyes were fixed just further south. Still, she didn’t allow malice to infect her voice, and instead maintained a seductive whisper. “How lovely they are, are they not count? Do you not find yourself utterly fascinated by them? Of course you do. How could you not?” She brought one of her hands up, and with her finger, slowly tranced a circle around her pink nipple. “Do you not want to suckle on them, count? Picture it now in your mind. Your rude tongue lapping away. How wonderful it would be.”

“ughhh,” Count Dmitriev shuddered.

“Ah count, I can see you are very close now. So close. But remember, you cannot gain release without my leave. Now then, tell me which part of me you love the most? My eyes, my scent, my touch?” Madame Laurent again brushed his face with her fingers. “My feet, my legs, my bottom, or my breasts?” On the last word she gave her body a playful twist, making her chest wiggle.

“I…” was all Count Dmitriev could manage.

“But of course, you cannot decide. For every part of me is perfection. How can one pathetic little man such as yourself judge what is best out of so many perfect things. It is far too hard of a task for you. All you can do is just prostrate yourself before me, basking in all I have to offer. Do you want your release now, little count?”

“Yess…. M-Madame…. Please…” The count looked up at her. His eyes betrayed his desperation.

“Ah non! How can I allow it? For I have given you so much and you have given me nothing. I have allowed you to gaze at my perfect body, and you have offered nothing in return. If you want my permission, you must give me something count! Tell me what plans your Tsar has made to defend his border. What precautions for war?”

“Madame…”

“You will tell me this count, or I will walk out of here right now! Then you will have no release. And you will not see me again! You will never experience my beauty! Now tell me count!”

Which of her ultimatums finally broke the count, Odette didn’t care enough to hazard a guess. Either the strength of his need to climax overwhelmed him, or the prospect of banishment from her perfect presence horrified him. All that mattered was that her dual threats shattered whatever resolve remained in Count Dmitriev mind. He shouted without hesitation.

“The Tsar has been strengthening his fortifications all along the frontier! He’s built store houses in Poland and fortresses and fortified camps further into the interior. He has the reserve ready to be called up. Artillery… he’s reformed the artillery…

“Where are these fortifications?”

“Drissa, Dunaburg, Riga…” Count Dmitriev screamed. The secrets, so closely guarded, were now open to anyone within earshot.

“How many reserves?”

“At least 100,000… Madame…”

“The artillery?”

“Twelve new batteries since the last war. Madame, please!”

“Very well count, you have given me what I want.” She quietly pulled her dress up, and moved to the side, so as not to be in his line of fire. “You have my permission. You may spill your seed now count.”

“aaaahhhhh”

Odette looked away as the count exploded. She noticed him fall forward, squirming every few seconds until the last of his throes ebbed away and he settled down into a calmed stupor. She let him lay there for a few seconds more, reveling in how thoroughly she had broken him. Odette had gotten her information, the professional task had been accomplished. Now came the personal.

“Now then count, are you still with me?” A little snicker escaped Odette’s lips when he nodded against the floor. “Good. For we are not quite done here. As your stained carpet can attest, you have just satisfied yourself while viewing me. Oui?”

“Yes, Madame,” he said weakly, managing to pick himself up back to his knees.

“Of course. For who can blame you. As you know I am perfect. Divine, I believe you said,” Odette giggled. “My eyes, my body, my scent, you could not decide what you like. Everything about me is perfection personified, is it not count?”

“It is, Madame.”

“Bien. Of course I am perfect. And now that you’ve experienced me, no other woman will suit you, yes? For how can any other woman possibly compete with perfection. They can not, count. Every other woman pales in comparison to me. You know this. Nod you head now.” He nodded. “Good. I am glad you are more agreeable at last. Now then count, even though every woman falls far short of me, you know you can never possess me. For you are not worthy of me. Repeat that for me now.”

Minutes ago, he would have sneered at that. He would have snapped about his own superiority until his face turned blue. Now, Count Dmitriev spoke in a defeated tone.

“I am not worthy of you, Madame.”

“Of course you are not. I am perfect, and you are pathetic. You have said. But what shall happen to you now? No other woman can possibly satisfy you. For you have had a small taste of perfection, and next to that all other women must look pitiful to you. So what shall happen now? Would you like me to tell you?”

Count Dmitriev nodded, fearing what was about to come.

“What shall happen is that you will not be able to gain pleasure from any other woman. No one else will be able to bring you to release. Even your lovely wife will seem ugly to you. Perhaps you will try some whores in St. Petersburg. Afterall, they are professionals. You will find they will not be able to bring you any more satisfaction than your wife. But do not worry, for I shall leave you a gift. The gift of my everlasting presence in your life. You want that, count?”

“Oh yes, Madame!” The count gave an eager nod, barely able to believe his luck. Madame Laurent’s viper’s eyes glared down at him.

“Ah good! So we are agreed! From this day forward, the only way you can get your release is to do exactly as you did today. You will kneel on the floor with your pants pulled down to your knees, you’re your little cock in your hand, and you will think of me. You will imagine my beautiful body, you will remember my intoxicating scent, my delicate touch, and you will spill yourself all over your floor, just as you did now. That is the only way you can get release now count, you know this?

He nodded again, this time with far less enthusiasm.

Madame snapped, “you will tell me it count! You will say it with your own mouth! The only way to get release is to think of me.”

“Yes Madame,” he looked down, unable to face her. “The only way to get release is to think of you.”

“Good. We are done here now. I will leave you. You will sleep for some time right here on the floor. When you wake, you will not remember this meeting. As far as you are concerned it never happened. You have not seen me for several weeks. But of course, you can never truly forget my perfect body. That is burned into your mind forever. And you will think of it, whenever you needs arise. Good bye now, little count. I hope you enjoy my gift. Or perhaps, it is my curse. I shall let you decide. Now sleep.”

With a snap of Odette’s fingers, Count Nikolai Dmitriev fell over unconscious. She took her leave with a triumphant smile on her face. The joy of her victory didn’t last long, however. As she made her way into the hall, her thoughts turned from the count to the information she’d squeezed out of him.

The Tsar had apparently not been idle in these five years of peace. If the count was to be believed, the Tsar had invested a great amount of resources in preparing Russia for a possible invasion. Combined with the information obtained from Count Lipovsky, it painted a far less optimistic picture than the one the French ministers and generals were expecting. Of course, her beloved Empereur would prevail, as he always did, but the costs could be much greater than anyone realized.

Odette put her fears aside for the time being. She was not yet finished in the Dmitriev house. While the Count had rudely received her before she had reminded him of his obligations, Odette had no doubt that she would get a far more favorable welcome from someone else in the home.

The servant from earlier hovered in the hallway.

Odette looked up, surprised. “You are still here?”

“I—” he appeared befuddled. “The count must not be disturbed.”

“Oh, yes,” Odette snickered. “I had forgotten. It is no matter, I am finished with him.”

The footman nodded, “I will escort you out, Madame.”

“Oh no, you misunderstand. I am finished with him, but not with here. I wish to see the Count’s wife.”

The servant hesitated. “Countess Dmitrieva has not indicated she is receiving visitors.”

For the briefest of moments, Odette pondered punishing the servant for his willfulness. But that whim passed without action. Unlike his now humbled employer, the servant’s defiance was not the born of insolence, but rather, Odette suspected, was the product of strict protocols enforced by the count. Besides, with Odette’s earlier instructions still lingering in his mind, the servant was torn between two Masters, the one who paid him, and the one who controlled him. For Odette, it was simply a matter of clarifying which took priority.

“Look at me,” Odette spoke, in a simple yet sharp command. The effect was instantaneous. The poor servant’s face tensed as they locked eyes. Odette let him stew in her stare until she was satisfied her dominance was complete. “Yes, that is it. You remember how it feels. Slip into my gaze again. Drown in it. As you stare deeper, you realize the truth. You know that I am the one who gives commands. Above all others, you must obey me.”

The servant nodded.

“Bien,” Odette whispered. “Now then, I will see the Countess Dmitrieva.”

“Yes,” the servant agreed with a slight grin, “You will see the Countess Dmitrieva.”

“You will ensure we are not disturbed.”

“I will ensure you are not disturbed.” The servant nodded again. Odette blinked. After another moment of silence, the servant seemed to snap out of his reverie. He bowed. “This way, Madame.”

“Oh silly boy,” Odette gifted him a smile. “I know the way.”

Her eyes drifted up to the ceiling where, just above sat the private rooms of Countess Dmitrieva. Odette knew, and a small rustle of the floorboards confirmed, they were occupied.

Madame Laurent glided past the servant without another word.

To be continued…