The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Jane waited patiently, listening to the phone ring and ring. Surely Todd would pick up this time?

The young woman nervously paced her Vegas hotel room. As her gaze wandered, she spotted a tall, thin brunette in the body mirror. Jane straightened. The brunette in the mirror straightened with her.

Hmm. At just shy of thirty, Jane was still maintaining her trim figure. Her stomach was still quite flat, her waist was still petite, and her rear just perky enough to fill out those skintight jeans. She still had the sleek, athletic body she’d possessed as a high school gymnast; that was a good feeling.

But after scrutinizing herself in the mirror, Jane decided that her complexion could use some sun. Moving to St. Louis hadn’t done wonders for her tan. She tossed her hair, momentarily allowing herself a vain moment to appreciate her natural beauty: deep, brown eyes, soft cheeks, delicate red lips, a very thin nose. Perhaps she should have looked into a modeling career. Why-

“Eh, hello, hello? This is Professor Gradley.”

Jane’s heart leapt! Todd! Todd had picked up the phone!

“Oh, hey baby,” the young woman said eagerly. “Listen, my flight landed about an hour ago.”

“Yeah?” Todd sounded like he was forcing a little enthusiasm. “That’s great, babe. You met up with Lacy and her other bridesmaids?”

“No, not yet. We’re all meeting in a bar, later this afternoon.”

“That sounds like Lacy,” grumbled Todd. “Tell her not to let this bachelorette party get to wild, okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Jane promised.

There was a sudden, strained pause in the conversation.

Jane’s heart pounded. The seconds were ticking by. There was so much she wanted to say! Why couldn’t she express herself?

“Hey… listen, Jane…” Now Todd’s voice was heavy, as if he wished he could avoid what was to follow.

Jane felt doom clutch her insides. She reflexively squeezed her eyes shut.

“…I’ve been thinking,” Todd said. “Lately… you and me haven’t been so good. You know?”

The words were like the stab of a knife. Jane physically winced. She exhaled slowly, and found herself mumbling, “Well… I dunno…”

“Things haven’t been good, Jane. I think you know it, too. And lately, I’ve been thinking that maybe I’m holding you back from… other experiences.”

“Todd,” Jane said fearfully, “are you breaking up with me?”

Silence.

After an agonizing forever, Todd finally replied, “I think maybe we should take a break?”

“You want to see other women?” Jane wanted to know.

“What? No.” Todd sounded weary. “No, I’m too goddamn busy! And too tired. The university has me teaching and doing two different studies. I’m so tired. I just want…”

“You want what?”

“I need a little time to think about what’s best for both of us,” Todd lamely offered.

Jane sat on the hotel bed, fighting back tears.

“Todd,” she said carefully, “baby… I know we can find what will fix us. I know it.”

“I’m tired, Jane,” repeated Todd, sounding weary.

Jane swallowed. “So what does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Todd. “Look, you’re in Vegas with Lacy. Lord knows that she’ll throw a crazy party. So have fun, let your hair down, forget about me for a while. Okay? Then, when I fly to San Diego for the wedding, you ’nd me will have had a little time to think. And we can talk and…”

Todd’s last words made Jane’s heart wither: “…and make a decision.”

The Main Concourse of the Casino was thronged with tourists and gamblers, the living fabric of Las Vegas. Jane carefully threaded her way through this crowd, glumly watching people at the slot machines, people at the blackjack tables, people meeting up with their friends, people nipping away for a quick drink. The electronic noise was almost unbearable. The air was thick with cigarette smoke.

Jane had changed into one of her standard outfits: long-sleeved button-down blouse, plain slacks, and flat shoes. The colors were a mix of tan, beige, and soft browns, almost as if Jane were hoping to camouflage herself within the crowds. Yet the men she passed stared after Jane’s body. Despite her wardrobe’s lack of flair, the guys knew: under those clothes was a toned, graceful, hourglass figure.

As Jane made her way along the busy concourse, she spotted a young couple, probably no older than twenty-two years old apiece. The pair were both playing a slot machine, their bodies squeezed tightly together, arms intertwined, heads resting against one another, the young woman sliding her hand into her beau’s back jeans pocket. The couple watched as the display on the slot machine whirled, slowed, then offered a mournful red light.

“We lost?” the young woman wailed, not really upset.

“Naw, baby,” cracked her boyfriend. “We got each other. That’s a win for me.”

“Awwwwww,” she coo’ed, melting with love. The couple kissed.

Jane watched that kiss with longing. From the way the woman leaned into the boy, and from the way his eager fingers slid over her rump, it was obvious that these two were madly in love.

And having fabulous sex.

Once—eons ago, it seemed—Jane and Todd had kissed each other like that. They’d kissed for any reason, any reason at all! I poured you a cup of coffee—kiss me! I let you hold the remote control—kiss me! I drew your name in balloon letters on this Post-It note—kiss me! Oh, Jane and Todd had been world-class lovers, back in the day. They’d boned ten times a week. At a minimum!

But then… Jane had her “difficulties.”

She didn’t notice when it first happened. But one lazy Sunday afternoon, the exact kind of afternoon that Jane and Todd used to live for… Jane was unable to climax. No matter what she and her boyfriend tried, no orgasm. They’d gone at it for ninety minutes, before giving up from exhaustion.

“Eh, don’t worry,” Todd had said at the time. “It happens.”

But then, it happened again. And then again. And on the next time, too.

And over the last two years, Jane had yet to blossom when her boyfriend made love to her. She. Hadn’t. Climaxed. Not. Even. Once.

To make the problem worse, Todd was a giver. He had trouble getting off himself unless he knew his lover was experiencing orgasm. While Jane writhed and groaned beneath him, Todd was unable to shoot off. Even when Jane faked it, he somehow knew! The Jane-and-Todd sex marathons withered and died out.

And now? Now, Todd wanted a break. He had been going through all the motions of maintaining their relationship. But the sex was dead. Had Todd already decided that he wanted to date someone else? Jane feared so.

The young couple at the slot machine broke their kiss. They giggled at one another like kindergarteners.

“Should we go again?” the boyfriend asked, using a dopey voice.

“Hit me, baby!” the girlfriend squealed, playfully slapping his rear.

Jealous and hurt, Jane turned away.

For the Vegas rendezvous, Lacy had picked Casa del Margarita, an inauthentic Mexican-themed bar, complete with a cheesy sombrero logo. Jane located the dive between the casino’s Sports Betting Center and the spa. She warily stepped inside, squinting in the dim light. It was crowded in here.

Fortunately, Lacy was always easy to find in a bar. You just followed the riotous laughter.

Jane stepped around a cluster of tourists, and there Lacy was! Jane’s old friend was a classic American blonde: tall but well-curved figure, long legs, tight little tummy, a butt from hundreds of yoga classes, and thick, golden hair flowing down about her thin shoulders. To Jane’s surprise, Lacy now had a slight tan, but perhaps that was the bar lighting? No, her smooth skin was bronzed, and that look suited her well. Lacy’s single best feature were her huge sapphire eyes, eyes which always seemed to be dancing with delight.

Back in high school, Lacy had been a little bit chubby. Just a bit. She wasn’t overweight, mind you, just carrying a little extra baby fat in her face and on her hips. The thirty-year-old Lacy had lost all those extra pounds, and then some. She’d slimmed down considerably, and then toned herself like a pro model. When her wedding day came, Lacy would make a beautiful bride.

As Jane peered in Casa del Margarita’s poor lighting, she could see that Lacy was sitting at a table with three other beautiful young women, none of whom she recognized. Three plastic pitchers of colorful alcohol were on the table, almost completely consumed. Lacy was already red-faced with drink.

Jane approached, and Lacy looked up. The bride’s eyes snapped open wide.

“Janie???” Lacy whooped in ecstatic delight. “JAAAAAAAAAAAAANE!!!”

Before Jane could brace herself, Lacy had leapt from her seat, throwing both arms around Jane’s neck. Jane was almost knocked to the tiled floor. Lacy was bouncing up and down with unrestrained excitement.

“You came!” crowed Lacy, giggling. “Oh fuck, you came, you came, you fucking came!”

“Of course I came, Lace,” Jane smiled. “You’re my oldest friend.”

“You knooooow it!” sang Lacy, very off-key. “Hey, how’s Todd the Bod? You two lovebirds gotten engaged yet?”

The mention of Todd was like a blow to Jane. She forced a weak smile and simply replied, “Uh, Todd’s good. He said he hopes you have a great bachelorette party week.”

“Fuck, yeah!” shouted Lacy. “C’mon, c’mon, meet the girls!”

Jane was propelled into a chair at the table. Someone—Jane wasn’t sure who—thrust a plastic cup into her hand, and then someone else was pouring a big drink. The other ladies at the table leaned forward with interest, their eyes curious and friendly.

“Girls,” trumpeted Lacy, “this is Jane, my oldest, oldest, bestest, oldest friend!”

“Hello,” Jane smiled.

“Janie and me, we met in the second grade,” Lacy went on, clearly not fully in control of her own tongue. “Like, we was besties on Day One! We were besties in elementary, middle, high school, oh yeah! Good times!”

“Wow, that’s so cool,” a pretty redhead to Jane’s right remarked.

Jane sipped her drink, and immediately felt her head spin a little. She tried to offer an individual smile to each of her new companions.

“After high school, Jane went to… to…” Lacy blinked. “Uh, where?”

“Vassar.”

“Right! Vassur,” slurred Lacy. “I didn’t do college, of course, I spent my first year out of college touring with my band. Did the Stateside thing, then toured a few years in Asia. That’s why I’m hot shit with chopsticks and saki. Then I did the acting and modeling stuff.”

Jane blinked. “Modeling?”

“Oh, yeah,” Lacy said casually. “Not, like, walking a runway or shit in Milan. I was an artist’s model. You know, posing for sketching, posing for sculptures, shit like that. Great money for sitting on your ass.”

“There’s a nude portrait of Lacy hanging in the MOMO Museum,” the redhead confided to Jane.

Jane’s mind was blown. “Wow.”

“Okay, okay, Janie, pay attention,” Lacy commanded. “I’m gonna introduce you t’ ev’rybody.”

After a deep margarita chug, Lacy plopped a hand on the redhead’s shoulder. “This is Ashlyn, she’s a genius at horoscopes and you can totally tell her anything. I met her in Thailand.”

“Japan,” corrected Ashlyn.

“Exactly!” Lacy declared. “And next to Ashy is DeFaun, my band sister and music soulmate. I swear, if I wasn’t marrying Trevor, I’d totally be DeFaun’s sex bitch, because I bet she’s fucking awesome at girl-girl sex.”

DeFaun was a buxom African-American woman, young, beautiful, and slightly intimidating. She blinked at Lacy in complete surprise. “I’m what???”

The bride plowed on. “And this is Sariah, the one and only and superawesome Sariah! She’s like… amazing. Ain’ch’a, Sarrie?”

Sariah was a dark-haired exotic beauty, with shining green eyes, olive skin, and a deerlike body. Jane was in awe at how effortlessly this woman made herself look glamorous.

“A-thank you, Lace,” smiled Sariah. Her accent was strange and impossible to place.

“Okay, Janie, lemme tell you all ya need to know about these awesome chicks,” Lacy declared.

A flood of details about Ashlyn, DeFaun, and Sariah now came at Jane like water from a fire hose. One of these bridesmaids was an editor for yogahotties.com, who did specialized classes for celebrities, but don’t ask, because she wouldn’t give you any gossip. Another bridesmaid—DeFaun or Sariah, Jane couldn’t tell which—was a sex researcher or a sex therapist or something to do with sex? …but from a clinical standpoint, maybe? Jane had no idea. And another woman (or was this someone else entirely who wasn’t even at this table?) was a dealer of erotic art, especially anything by this horny Spanish guy who sculpted enormous genitalia, and did you know that enormous stone penises were all the rage right now among forty-something European women? Who knew, right???

“And what do you do?” Ashlyn asked Jane, when Lacy had to stop for air.

“Me?” Jane squeaked. “Oh, next to you guys, I’m pretty boring. I’m an accountant.”

“Uh-huh,” said Ashlyn.

Feeling pressure, Jane went on: “I live in St. Louis, with my boyfriend Todd. He’s an adjunct professor,” she finished lamely. “In Psychology.”

Ashlyn smiled pleasantly. “You two live together? That’s so nice.”

“I can’t make a relationship last three weeks,” DeFaun agreed.

“A toast!” shouted Lacy, hoisting her glass into the air. “To Janie and Rod! Rod, right? Oh, sorry, Todd. To Janie and Todd! I hope he fucks you like a champion stallion!”

The other bridesmaids cheered aloud and gulped margaritas. But Jane found she didn’t have it in her to join the toast.

Lacy drained her cup, then reached for the pitcher. “Okay, okay, okay,” she said, changing the subject. “So its my bachelorette week, you guys. (Can you believe I’m getting fucking married???) So I hope you sluts came for fun, ’cause we’re doing it all!”

“No strippers?” DeFaun requested firmly. “I seen enough strippers.”

“I’m not ruling that out,” warned Lacy. “But one thing atta time. Tomorrow, we’ll meet up at the Luxor, and I have a full day planned. Bring walking shoes!”

“As long as we’re clubbing every night,” insisted Sariah. “I brought three clubbing dresses for this trip.”

But at this, Lacy’s eyes blazed with an alarming passion. “No! No clubbing! Not tomorrow night, anyway!” she declared. “I got something better planned.”

This set off alarm bells for Ashlyn, Defaun, Sariah, and Jane.

“No clubbing???” Ashlyn said, dismayed.

DeFaun growled, “Lace, what the fuck is better than clubbing?”

“I’m totally invoking Bride’s Privilege and not telling you guuuuuys,” the blonde said, sing-song. “And whatever it is I pick, you guys totally have to do it. Promise!”

The bridesmaids stared back. “This activity is… legal?” Jane asked fearfully.

“Of course, its legal!” snorted Lacy. She swigged more margarita. Then she firmly pointed a finger at her four companions. “Bride’s Privilege! You chicks have to do it! Promise.”

“Okay, okay,” Ashlyn granted. “Sheesh, Lace.”

DeFaun and Sariah dropped their objections, too. Apparently, they were accustomed to Lacy’s unexpected adventures.

Lacy fixed her oldest friend with a demanding glare. “Jaaaaaaaaaaanie?” she prodded.

“I have to know what this thing is!” yelped Jane.

“Oh, no you don’t,” scoffed the bride. “Just promise, Jane. Don’t be the boring one.”

Jane swallowed, aware that everyone was watching her.

“…okay,” she said in a small voice.

“Yayyyy!!!” Lacy bellowed, causing all of Casa del Margarita to jump. “Janie’s in! Yaayyyyy!!! Everybody drink!”

As she sipped, Jane wondered… why was she so terrified?

“Oh no!” Jane objected, fighting panic. “No, no, no, no!”

“Oh yes!” cried Lacy, grabbing her by the arm. “You promised!”

It was the next evening. So far, Jane had gamely done every one of Lacy’s bachelorette activities. The machine gun firing range had been terrifying and violent. The Mob Museum had been gruesome. The Marijuana Emporium had left a strange churning feeling deep in Jane’s stomach. And the Indian restaurant had been far too spicy. But this?

Lacy was dragging her bridesmaids toward the Majestic Theatre, where Dr. Stephen Tallon: Master of Hypnotism! was the featured show. Lacy wanted her bridesmaids to get hypnotized???

“No, please, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!” begged Jane.

“You promised!” Lacy said indignantly.

“We’re just gonna watch the show?” Ashlyn asked hopefully. “Right???”

“No fucking way!” shouted Lacy, a wild look in her blue eyes. “When the Hypnoguy asks for volunteers, we’re all going up there and we’re all getting hypnotized! All of us!”

“For real?” gaped DeFaun.

“For realisies!” Lacy bellowed. She was getting militant.

“I’ll do it,” said Sariah.

Ashlyn, DeFaun, and Jane gaped at her.

“Why not?” Sariah asked plainly. “Hypnosis is a mind-altering experience. But with no hangover or comedown.”

“Oh yeah. Yeah, that’s true,” reflected Ashlyn. She shrugged. “Okay, shit, I’m in.”

DeFaun nodded. “Shit, me too.”

Grinning like a hyena, Lacy pulled Jane towards the ticket office.