The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Chapter 4 — The Prince

Madame Odette Laurent was back in her humble apartment by the middle of the afternoon. It was far more modest than the great houses she’d visited that morning. While her loathsome husband’s death had been a stroke of good fortune, the many debts he’d left her had quickly turned it from a blessing to a burden.

Odette had known much of the ebbs and flows of wealth in her lifetime. Born to an aristocratic family, she’d enjoyed a happy and comfortable childhood. Her father had doted on her, and Odette had wanted for nothing. Then the revolution came. Odette’s father was killed by a mob, their wealth and lands became property of the state, and her family, descended from dukes and viscounts of old, lived as paupers. For the adolescent Odette, the only small bits of happiness came from reading the reports on an obscure general’s rise to fame, then to consulship, then to the Imperial throne.

In an attempt to reconcile himself with the new regime, her older brother had married Odette off at the age of 16. Wealth returned briefly to Odette’s life then, but the happiness of her youth did not. Her husband was more than twice her age, and his appetites for all forms of lechery were also accompanied by a penchant for cruelty. Marriage had gained her a new great home in the country, many fine jewels, all of the dresses she required, and with a bevy screaming matches, accompanied by the odd bruise every now and again.

She found shelter in the one room of the house her husband never ventured: the library. Hunger for knowledge was the only appetite he didn’t possess. Amongst the many books, she discovered an odd one tucked away. The Mysteries of Mesmerism, judging by the dust on the cover, hadn’t been touched in generations. Odette had perused its contents as a lark at first, then found herself engrossed by them, almost as if the book itself possessed its titled power. Somewhere on her third reading, she’d realized that if she could master the proffered mysteries, she could end her husband’s tyranny over her.

And so, with discretion and diligence, Odette studied. When sufficiently versed with the theories, she began to put them to practice, first experimenting on herself, then on her lady’s maids. When her husband went off to war, she took her activities further, bringing half her household under her sway. Odette had been ready to enact her plan on her husband when, hundreds of miles away in an obscure town called Friedland, a well-placed cannonball rendered it obsolete. Her husband lay died on the field in another of her empeurer’s great victories. Odette was a widow before the age of twenty.

The freedom of widowhood did last long, and soon Odette discovered a new form of tyranny: debt. Her husband’s wealth had largely been an allusion. The men he’d constantly swindled were, unfortunately, very real. The great country estate was lost to the largest of his creditors. To the rest went her jewels, paintings, dresses, livestock, even the books which had kept her company in her hardship. By the end, Odette was destitute again. One final parting jape from her horrible husband.

Four years of clandestine work had barely earned back a humble living. Odette had squeezed new emeralds and pearls from some of her enraptured admirers. The small pension from the French ministry for her tradecraft helped rebuild her wardrobe. Dresses of silk and muslin were needed to conduct her work. The small signs of her financial distress were evident. The paint on the wall seemed to always produce new scuffs. The carpet grew more threadbare by the day. As she sat to transcribe all of the day’s important information, the uneven wood of her small desk creaked under the pressure of her pen.

Odette ignored it and continued writing. She’d compiled numerous pages of notes over the last several weeks. Today’s liaisons hadn’t been the first, though they had easily been the most fruitful. She bit back a smile with each word committed to ink. Odette envisioned presenting the notes to l’Empereur himself, and him complementing her diligence and patriotism.

At that thought, Odette checked her appearance in the mirror, ensuring the red waves of her hair were still tidy, and the rouge on her cheeks still shined on her fair skin. L’Empereur would see a beauty, one whose looks matched her usefulness. She played at the hem of her dress, basking in the fantasy.

It was forlorn hope. She wouldn’t get a personal audience with l’Empereur. He was far too important to deal with someone as small as her. No, she would deliver her findings to the Minister of Police Fouche, or more likely, one of his underlings. No doubt he would claim the credit with l’Empereur. Still, she had served well, and her information would be of use to l’Empereur when it inevitably got to him. That, and whatever coins Fouche tossed her way, would be a worthy enough reward.

When all was copied to paper, Odette gave one final inspection, pronounced herself satisfied, and departed in the direction of l’Empereur’s palace. There was a glow in her visage as she marched down the rue de Ville l’Eveque. Several heads turned, caught in the gravity of her triumphant expression. The earlier doubts were gone. So what if the Tsar had been preparing for war? His diligence was a poor counter to L’Empereur’s military genius. No matter what plans he’d made, the Tsar would be humbled like so many before him. Le Tricolore would fly over the streets of Moscow by Christmas.

As she turned the onto the rue Saint-Honoré, Odette was shaken from her reverie. There on the corner, she spied a handsome town home of white marble. Her lips curled into a smile as she recalled who occupied the sizable Palladian house.

The Prince Alexander Myshkin was undoubtedly Odette’s favorite Russian liaison. His good looks and charming personality were well admired, both in St. Petersburg and lately in Paris. He possessed a confident smile, which he rarely failed to display. When he spoke, his deep voice and polished manners carried an irresistible charisma.

For Odette, he was also an extremely valuable source of information. At only 25 years old, Prince Myshkin was already a colonel in the Russian army. For the last few years, he had served as his country’s military attaché to France. He was also an aide-de-camp and close friend to the Tsar himself. During happier times, Prince Myshkin had even acted as a personal messenger between the Tsar and l’Empereur. As Odette could attest, he was a bottomless well of useful knowledge. Remembering she had such a man in her orbit always gave Madame Laurent a thrill of satisfaction.

Never was that knowledge more needed than now. With his deep connections within the Russian military, Prince Myshkin could give a precise description of the forces being prepared to face l’Empereur. How many men did the Tsar possess? Where were they being arrayed. What strategy did they intend to employee? Odette had already copied her notes, but she reasoned she could always add whatever her Prince disclosed to her. If the information was good, as it no doubt would be, a few hours’ delay would be a small price to pay. With a predatory grin, Odette broke off from her intended route to pay the prince a visit.

The prince’s porter greeted her with a knowing expression. It was not the first time Odette had called here unannounced. She ignored the servant’s judging eye, and notified him of her wish to pay attendance to the prince. With a stiff nod, the man left. Odette noted his impertinence. Perhaps she would make him pay for it later. He returned within the minute, and doing little to hide his judgement, informed her that the prince would be happy to receive her in the parlor.

She was shown in presently, the servant insisted on leading even though Odette knew the way. Her eyes found the handsome prince sitting in a great chair by the fire. His black hair was tidied to precision. Two or three wavey locks fell intentionally across his forehead, resting a few inches above his baltic blue eyes.

Prince Myshkin stood to greet his guest. At full height, and in his fine green military uniform, the regimental dress of the Tsar’s own Imperial Guard, he looked every bit the gallant soldier.

“Madame Laurent,” the prince spoke with a smile. Giving Odette a half bow, he brought her fingers to his lips and graced them with a light kiss. “It is a great surprise and pleasure to find you in my home so unexpectedly.”

Odette’s eyes shined. “Prince Alexander, how good it is to see you again. I was passing by and realized it has been far too long since we have last seen each other.”

“Far too long, Madame. I agree. Come, please sit. Can I offer you a drink? Some burgundy, or madeira perhaps?”

Odette took the seat nearest to Prince Myshkin. “How kind of you, my Prince. But I must decline. I fear I can not stay long.”

“Surely Madame, you have time to spare for an old friend.” The prince’s eyes twinkled with mischief.

Odette indeed had time to spare. Her notes were expected at the palace, but she could leave it a few hours; conceivably even deliver them tomorrow morning. The delay would be met with some indignation by Fouche, but undoubtedly it would be made up by the intelligence her prince would soon provide. But Odette enjoyed making her pets twist. Even before she spoke her magic phrase, her enraptured thralls instinctively pined for attention. Charismatic as he might be, Prince Myshkin was no different. So, she continued to play.

“My Prince, I am sorry. My visit must be a short one. It was only a whim that brought me here as I was passing by.”

“Madame Laurent, please!” The prince spoke in mock indignation, though his grin never receded. “An angel like yourself can not grace us mortals with your heavenly presence, only to withdraw while we are still awed by your beauty.”

“My charming Prince,” Odette giggled, “how cruel you are! First you try to tempt me with wine. Now, you twist my conscience and play to my vanity.”

“Wine and complements, Madame. I must use what weapons I have in my arsenal, and I have ample supply of both.”

“Very well,” Odette gave way, “I shall take a glass of madeira, if you can provide.”

“I can provide, Madame.” He rang the bell and a new servant appeared a few seconds later. This one, a thin whisp of a girl, looked down nervously at her feet while the Prince relayed the request. Once he’d finished, she hustled out the door without even a bow.

“Apologies,” the prince shook his head. “She is from the country, that one. A fine enough servant, but they think scandal is as contagious as the plague. Even being in the same room as it will get her infected.”

“Oh?” Odette raised her eyebrows. “Prince Myshkin, are you intending to make some scandal today?”

“Madame Laurent, I am a paragon of morality,” Prince Myshkin laughed. “May I point out, that it was you who arrived unexpected, unaccompanied, and curiously without any purpose.”

“And it was you who begged me to stay,” Odette countered, returning his riposte just as the servant reappeared with a pair of glasses and a full decanter. “And now, you who plies me with strong wine. What wickedness do you intend?”

“None but the same wickedness you had in mind when you showed up at my door,” the prince answered. Odette saw the assured glint in his eye and felt herself flush. She was surprised at her own reaction, and after wresting down the tingle running through her chest, Odette mentally chided herself for the lapse of composure. Thankfully, Prince Myshkin had turned to the arrived drinks, and hadn’t noticed Odette’s colored complexion.

The servant, whose face by now had also grown scarlet, made to pour the first glass. Prince Myshkin waved her away and did the task himself. Eager to make an exit, the poor girl stumbled into a half-curtsy and departed without another word. Prince Myshkin handed Odette her glass with a grin before turning to fix one for himself.

“Merci, mon Prince,” Madame said as she took her first sip. “I am grateful for the respite. I have had a very busy day. Do you know, I have just come from the home of your countryman, Count Dmirtriev?”

“And how is the dear Count, Madame?” Prince Myshkin asked as he reoccupied his seat, his own glass now in hand. “No doubt you found him in a busy state.”

“Oh yes,” Madame admitted. “I hear he is soon to depart. He mentioned he is leaving many of his affairs to you?”

“To both his and my displeasure,” The Prince chuckled. “Yes. I am to conclude his work. Thankfully, I think it nearly finished already. Count Dmirtriev may revel in that type of work, but I’m afraid I find it all rather dull.”

“Yes, he said something of that.” Odette matched the prince’s light tone. “I do not mean to offend, but I do not believe the count has the same high opinion of you as I do.”

The prince laughed. “You don’t offend, Madame. The feeling is mutual. It is a great consolation though, that I still find myself in your good graces.”

“My Prince! You shall always be in my good graces.” Odette tittered, inwardly delighting at her own secret meaning. The prince was unaware of just how deeply in her good graces he was. In fact, you could say he was trapped there.

“And Madame Laurent, I shall always remain your humble servant.”

The pair settled into idle chatter, exchanging court gossip in between sips of wine. Odette always appreciated the prince’s humorous banter. Beyond his obvious value, she had to admit that she genuinely enjoyed his company. She endured her escapades with Lipovsky and the Count and Countess Dmitriev for the sake of duty, but a visit to Prince Myshkin’s salon was never a chore. Indeed, she often found herself looking forward to their next rendezvous.

Odette laughed at a risqué joke on the latest escapades of the Prince Regent of Britain; nothing could so unite a Frenchwoman and a Russian like making fun of the English.

“A love of women, a love of food, and a love of scandal.” Myshkin concluded. “Pray for the peoples of Britian if their Prince George ever discovers he can satisfy all three at once.”

“Prince Myshkin! How vulgar you are!” Madame Laurent chided sarcastically. She failed to halt her laugh. “Someone should teach you some manners on how to behave in front of a lady.”

“If the lady has any qualms over such humor, she has yet to display them in my presence.” The prince countered.

Odette fained outrage. “Oh! And now you insult me. You are so naughty, my Prince!”

“I am helpless, Madame Laurent.” The prince held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Something about you brings out the devil in me.”

‘Oh yes,’ Madame thought to herself. ‘The devil will be brought out shortly.’ She broke off their conversation, stood from the couch and walked over to the window. By now, the sun had begun to trace shadows across the streets of Paris.

“Gah! I did not realize how late it is,” Madame said in fake concern. “You see Prince, it is nearly dusk.”

“So it is. I apologize Madame, am I detaining you from another engagement?”

“It is not that, my Prince.” She turned back and met his gaze. Regarding the Prince with a devilish smile, Odette casually sipped the last of her madeira.

This was always her favorite moment. Those final seconds where her charges are their normal selves, blissfully unaware of the fate that awaits them. Sometimes they would detect something amiss. A glint in her eye, or the curve of her smirk betrayed her malevolence. There followed a moment where her thralls would stew in their uncomfortable premonition. Then she would say the words and they would sink, awareness leaving their eyes as they remembered what the truly were: her pets. Wringing the information from them was a delight, but it did not quite compare with the beautiful seconds when her slave’s wills drained away and they were left helpless and at her mercy.

Like so many before him, Prince Myshkin seemed to sense the change in her attitude. Unlike his predecessors, he wasn’t unsettled.

Prince Myshkin donned his own mischievous grin. “Ah Madame, perhaps then, is time to serve your Empereur?”

“I—What?” She staggered slightly, a phantom dizziness threatening her balance.

“I said,” he spoke deliberately, stressing each word that followed. “Is it time to serve your Empereur.”

Madame Laurent had a second of surprise and confusion. One half second where she processed his words and felt a pang of panic in her heart, then her consciousness began to slip. Her brow furrowed. Like water leaking from a cupped hand, elements of her mind simply trickled away. She was aware something was wrong, but that realization remained only for an instant before it dribbled out into nothing. Her head began to feel heavy.

Prince Myshkin stood. Though a haze, Odette could recognize him. Even as every other object dissolved into vague blurs, the Prince stood illuminated, like the morning sun burning through the mist.

Odette slid down to her knees. Standing had become too much of a labor. Once on the floor found she enjoyed the new position quite well. Her breathing slowed.

The silk of her dress slipped from her shoulders. She realized after a moment, that her own hands had caused its downfall. They apparently answered to a higher power than her own mind. Not that her head was capable of directing much of anything at the moment. The air tickled her bare chest. It added to the pleasant buzz massaging her thoughts. The anxieties of a few seconds ago melted away. In their wake, a tranquility took hold.

The Prince was standing over her. This was right. An instinct whispered silently in her mind that he belonged above her. Odette felt a calming glow warm her soul. It was comforting to know her charming prince was watching over her.

Prince Myshkin smiled down at her. His hand weaved through her hair before finding the back of her neck. Odette’s spine tingled. Instinctively, she arched her back so as to offer him a more pleasant view. He ought to see her. All of her. Her handsome prince deserved an unobscured view of what Odette had to offer. He deserved that and so much more.

“So, my dear?” The Prince asked, “Is it time to serve your Empereur?”

Said again, the phrase had little effect third time. It only reinforced the epiphany that had already struck.

“Non,” Odette breathed out, gazing up adoringly at Prince Myshkin. “It is time to serve mon Maître.”

To be continued…