The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Danielle found Julie standing alone in one of the pews near the center of the church, absently caressing the polished wood and taking in the quiet bustle of activity surrounding her.

Men in tuxedos were running great lengths of white ribbon down the aisles, while a woman in the corner erected instruments for the string quartet. In the back, their mother was talking earnestly with the wedding planner. Light streamed in through the stained glass windows and illuminated a few motes of dust floating in the air.

Danielle sidled up to her sister and threw an affectionate arm around her shoulder. “Not too late to back out,” she teased. “Leave David on the market for the rest of us.”

Julie elbowed her playfully. “And lose my favorite maid of honor? Never. It’s just ...” She managed a broad gesture that took in the church, the people, and 12 months of painstaking preparation and recurring crises. “It’s just so much. I can’t imagine what mom and dad paid for all this. The reception alone ...”

“You just have to give it to them. In a way, it’s their day too.”

“I thought it was my day. Or ours. You know, David and I talked about eloping.”

“Oh God. Mom and dad would’ve killed you,” said Danielle.

“I know. I’m grateful for all this, but part of me wishes the whole thing could’ve been less of a production.”

“How often do you get married?” Danielle chirped. “Enjoy the moment. It’ll be gone before you know it.”

Julie smiled at her. In some ways Danielle was a slightly younger version of herself: the same blonde hair, blue eyes, she was as self possessed and confident. It seemed like just yesterday they were going clubbing together, flirting with boys and breaking hearts. Now Julie was getting married at 24, and Danielle was grown up and wise beyond her 21 years. When did that happen?

They watched the arrangements unfold in companionable silence, then Julie cracked a mischievous grin. “I have an idea. Let’s play hooky.”

“Fly off to Cabo? Leave David at the altar and go meet handsome Latin men and drink Pina Coladas? Count me in.”

“I was thinking more we walk back to the hotel a little early and open that bottle of Champaign,” said Julie. “I don’t think David are I are going to be drinking it, and we’re not due at the hair dresser for an hour.”

“As your maid of honor, I must officially advise against getting sloshed on your wedding day. But, sure, lets go. I’ll tell mom.”

Danielle bounced down the aisle and cleared things with their mother, then the girls left the darkness of the church and entered the bright sunshine. They donned sunglasses. Julie sneezed.

“Gesundheit.”

“Hay fever.” She sniffled. “God, I can’t believe I’m having a June wedding. I’m fine in December. Why doesn’t anybody have Christmas weddings?”

But it was a beautiful day in the city, and the sisters marched with a spring in their step in the direction of the hotel.

No sooner had Dover taken a seat outside the restaurant when a gentle breeze carried a trace of cigarette smoke from the table behind him. He turned back to target a disapproving stare at the source, a young man in a power suit sitting alone with a cup of coffee and the remains of a sandwich, gabbing loudly on a cell phone while sucking on a Marlboro. Dover was about to say something, when a pretty, dark-haired waitress emerged from the restaurant and spared him the trouble.

“Excuse me, sir,” she said to the smoker. “I’m sorry, but you can’t smoke here.”

The man ignored her and kept talking.

“Sir. I’m going to have to ask you not to smoke here,” she said more firmly. “Please put it out or step away from the tables while you’re smoking.” She was a cute brunette in tight jeans and a short tee shirt that exposed her midriff. Dover guessed she was 19 or 20, probably working her way through college dealing with imbeciles like this.

“Hold on a second,” the man said into the phone. Then, to the waitress: “Honey, I’m outdoors. I can smoke outdoors. Now be a good girl and get me some more coffee.” He looked her body up and down rudely, lingering on the swell of her breasts, and went back to his call.

She shook her head and mumbled something, then walked to Dover’s table—conspicuously failing to fetch the customer more coffee. “What a jerk,” she said under her breath. She smiled apologetically at Dover and handed him a menu. “Can I get you something to start with?”

“I’ll just have a cup of hot water please,” he said.

Her smile faded a bit. “That’s not all you’ll be having, is it?”

“And what if it is?”

She pursed her lips. “This time of day the outdoor tables are reserved for lunch guests.”

Dover graced her with his most pleasant smile, which wasn’t all that pleasant. “Of course I’ll be having lunch. I’m just going to start with some hot water. Please.”

She nodded and disappeared into the restaurant. Dover pretended to study the menu while admiring a group of young women passing on the sidewalk. After a moment, the slender brunette reappeared with a steaming cup, her order pad at the ready. “Thank you,” he said. “I’ll just need another minute.” She shot him a skeptical look and moved to another table.

Dover took a foil packet from his pocket and emptied it into the water, then stirred it deliberately with a spoon. He inhaled over the cup and wrinkled his nose in disgust. This was the hard part: that sickly sweet flavor, like rotting molasses. When he first started experimenting with the substance, he all too often vomited it right back up again. Now he could stomach it, if he limited its use to special occasions.

He picked up the cup and tilted its contents into his mouth, downing it in a few fortitudinous gulps. He grimaced as he reset the cup, then remained very still: it wouldn’t do to send it sloshing around in his stomach straight away. If he could keep it down through the next couple minutes, he’d be fine.

The pesky young waitress reappeared just as he was ready to test it. “What would you like?,” she asked with forced pleasantness.

He stood carefully. “Actually, I’m not going be eating anything.” He stepped closer. “That’s fine with you.”

Her expression changed as his thick, sugary breath reached her with his words. She took a step back and blinked. The impatience faded from her features, replaced by a dazed look. “Umm, yeah. That’s ... fine. I’ll just—”

“You’ll stand here for a moment.” He moved nearer, closer than was really proper. “Speak quietly. Tell me your name.”

Her hand rose to her temple as though she suddenly had a headache—which was possible, some women experienced side effects. “Lisa,” she said quietly, looking up at him with hazel eyes. “I’m Lisa.”

Dover smiled and placed a possessive hand on the smooth bare skin of her waist. Over her shoulder he could see a waiter watching them through the glass doors with evident concern.

“Sadly, I have to go, Lisa. You’re not really my type anyway. Actually, I think you’re his type.” He nodded towards the smoker, who’d finished the cigarette and was devoting his full attention to the phone call. “When I walk away, I want you to go over and start kissing him. I want you to have sex with him, if you can. Throw yourself at him shamelessly. Do you understand?”

She bit her lower lip fetchingly, and glanced over at the man with apprehension. Dover leaned in closer, close enough to kiss her himself. “Do you understand?,” he asked softly, his breath playing over her with each syllable.

“Yes. I understand.”

He walked off. When he was two storefronts away he looked back to see Lisa straddling the surprised diner in his chair. Her delicate hands were feverishly unfastening his belt, while she planted open-mouthed kisses in his face and neck with such desperate abandon she might have been months in a scorching desert, and he a fountain of clear water.

Her order pad was on the ground next to his cell phone. Dover couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw a tear of shame roll down her cheek.

Dover started a timer on his watch. He’d have about two hours now. Not much time. That’s why he’d learned to start the process near a nice hotel—to take full advantage of his window of opportunity.

He turned his back on the sidewalk tryst and continued down the street towards his destination.