The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Cassie’s eyes were wide open. She stared up at the hotel room ceiling, hearing the gentle thrum of the air conditioning. Her father had advised her to turn down the room’s thermostat until ice formed on the windows: “y’all ain’t payin’ for the ’lectric, darlin’! Might as well sleep in comfort.”

Sleep? Hah! She stole a look at the green segment display on the generic clock radio next to her bed. 3:07am. It had been 3:07am for what felt like half an hour.

The only light came from the bathroom, where she had left the mirror light (a mirror light! The luxury!) illuminated in case she needed to navigate to pee. The heavy curtains on the window showed no sign of even the slightest bit of backlight. If she concentrated, she could just about hear the night time city traffic below. She was half-expecting to hear the rattle of trains transversing the Loop, but so far it had remained quiet.

Cassie groaned. Her alarm was set for 6:30am, which might as well have been next year. Far from sleep, her mind buzzed with thoughts about the job interview which was going to start in—she checked—five hours and fifty-two minutes. The situation would have been no worse if she had downed a large can of energy drink; there was no way she was going to fall asleep now, short of being slugged by a baseball bat.

In vain, she tried to tell herself that this interview wasn’t that important. Other job opportunities would come along, surely? But, right now, this was the only prospect she had, and sixty-five thousand dollars of red ink in her student loan and credit card s knew this only too well.

At least, they had booked her a comfortable hotel room. Even the bedsheets were several steps up from the ones covering her narrow bed back home, the heavy smoothness of the fabric markedly different to her own threadbare sheeting. There was, apparently, a superb breakfast buffet available, and paid-for. Like she’d be able to eat... Still, if Schein & Partners were willing to spend fifty dollars and tax on a cup of coffee and a banana, that was their business.

She rolled over to bury her face in the sweet-smelling and incredibly soft pillow. Maybe she could suffocate herself to sleep.

“Welcome to Schein and Partners! We are delighted to host you for today’s activities.“

The Commercial Litigation practice lead, a tall woman named Margaret who wore an ancient tweed pant suit like it was Chanel, was doing her best to appear warm and welcoming, but it certainly wasn’t her area of expertise. Still, she had obviously tried her best, accessorizing with a pink and gold Hermès scarf on her wrist, no doubt to emphasize her “fun” side. She had a prominent mole on her right cheek, and nearly everyone in the room was wondering why she hadn’t lasered it off, given how much she was undoubtedly earning.

The five interviewees sitting around the conference table exchanged surreptitious glances, trying to weigh up their competition. Cassie knew one of them from her course: Indira, a second generation Brahmin who had been destined for a lucrative legal career since her first birthday. She was dressed modestly but, of course, discreetly accessorized to the tune of... probably Cassie’s entire student debt. Bitch.

Margaret, having used up her weekly allowance of charm, turned to business.

“We will start this morning with a two hour written test, then a thirty minute break where you will meet our firm’s graduate ers from last year. We will then pair you up for a mock trial activity.” She looked around the table, her eyes alighting on Cassie. “We were supposed to have six of you, but apparently, as of this morning, Mr. Featherstone has decided not to allow us to impose on his valuable time.” The audience winced. “Cassie, we will pair one of our new ers with you instead.“

She consulted her notes, a lawyerly mannerism that served her well in court, on the few occasions that she was ever required to be there. “Lunch for half an hour, and then one-to-one interviews rotating across two associates, a director, and a partner.” She looked around the room. “I urge you to pay very close attention to what your interviewers are saying. Words, after all, are the primary tool of the legal profession.“

“Words, not facts, ma’am?” Everyone turned their heads towards Cameron, the impossibly tall and implausibly blond Yale graduate, who appeared unfazed by the sudden attention.

Margaret smiled at him, but only her mouth seemed prepared to do any work. “Indeed, Cameron. ‘Facts are stupid things’.”

Cameron looked confused. “Surely, ‘stubborn things’? John Adams, 1770. I believe that it was recently referenced in the 1997 Louise Woodward trial.”

“Ronald Reagan, at the 1988 Republican Convention. Now, Cameron, would you like me to explain this to you? Or,”—as she looked around the table—“perhaps someone else would like to?”

Cameron, belatedly realizing the stickiness and smelliness of the mire in which he had stuck his foot, shook his head. The others around the table averted their eyes.

Cassie, struck by either desperation or insanity, sat up and locked eyes with Margaret. The older woman returned the look with curiosity, much as if a shrew had started to onish a hawk.

“Cassie, you have something you would like to say?”

Cassie took a deep breath. “Facts are stupid. Nearly every quoted ‘fact’ is inaccurate, to some degree. Different jurors perceive the same set of ‘facts’ differently—every bit of juror research confirms this. What matters in court is what the law says, what subset of ‘facts’—and explanations—are issible, and what the jury draws from them. Words are our primary tool to shape the jury’s understanding of these ‘facts’.“

A smile touched the edges of Margaret’s lips. “An interesting perspective, well explained. Thank you, Cassie.”

She turned back to all-business mode. “Does anyone need the bathroom before we start the first test?”

Cassie checked herself out in the bathroom mirror, deciding against a brush-out of her hair, but quickly touching up one or two weak points in her make-up. Any more... no, she didn’t want to look too focused on her appearance. She smoothed down her skirt, and picked up her bag. Interview time!

She had been sent to room 25-K. The expensive-looking wooden door bore a single discreet plaque just below its number:

SCHEIN

She gulped. Not just a partner—the partner. Her first interview!

Quickly checking her wristwatch, she ensured that her phone was turned off, counted under her breath to twenty, and knocked twice.

“Come in!”

She entered into a relatively small office, three sides of the room lined with full bookcases in the traditional way of lawyers. A fourth, glass wall with shades partly drawn had a stunning view over Lake Michigan, the Planetarium just visible at the edge of the window.

“Cassie, how nice to meet you.” The small, impeccably dressed woman rose from behind her desk and walked around to shake Cassie’s hand. Her grip was firm, her hand cool and soft to touch. “I am Nadine Schein.”

As if I wouldn’t know who you were. “Thank you, ma’am. I’m very pleased to meet you, too.“

“Please, sit.” Schein walked back around the desk—which looked like it might cost approximately the same as one modest house in Cassie’s home town.

“How did it feel, getting the better of Cameron?” she asked, leaning forward with her hand under her chin. Her impossibly dark-green eyes stared directly into Cassie.

Talk about a bolt from the blue! No doubt, Margaret had relayed the event to Schein. All her interview preparation now irrelevant, Cassie took a breath, paused for a moment, and went for it.

“It felt great, ma’am.”

Schein laughed out loud, sitting back in her luxury chair. “I bet it did!” She picked up a thin cardboard folder from her desk, already open, and flicked through the pages. “Such a good, diligent girl. You worked yourself close to death to get this far, didn’t you?”

“I... I worked hard, ma’am, yes.” Cassie shifted in her seat, wondering where this was going.

“And you don’t like finding trust fund babies popping up in this space that you struggled to reach, here just because their daddy owns half of Martha’s Vineyard.” It wasn’t a question. “I can understand that.”

Schein replaced the folder, and re-focused on Cassie. “Are you hungry?”

Cassie blinked, surprised. “Um...” Dammit, she had promised herself to eliminate that word! “No, thank you, ma’am. They fed us well.” She had managed one mushroom vol-au-vent and a small chicken salad sandwich, but now was not the time to delve into her dietary needs.

Schein apparently agreed. “No, Cassie. Are you hungry?“

Making a lawyer ask the same question twice was a huge no-no, and Cassie now knew that she’d have to come up with something outstanding to return the serve. She took a moment, squishing any attempt by an ‘Um’ or ‘Er’ to emerge.

“Yes ma’am, I’m hungry. I’m starving. I’m sitting on... a lot of debt. Legal job offers are becoming rarer every day. AI is culling major areas of legal employment. I spent six years learning to lawyer this well, and I’m damned if I’m going to stop now.“

She paused. Oh hell, why not?

“And, however this interview goes, I’m going to go back to my hotel—thank you for that, it’s the best place I’ve ever stayed at—and gorge myself on the best damn steak they have, followed by any dessert that is more than fifty percent chocolate by weight, because I deserve to enjoy something, however transient, having got this far.“

Schein tapped her fingers on her desk for a moment. “Thank you for coming, Cassie.” She stood, reaching across the desk to shake hands as Cassie, confused, reciprocated. “Enjoy that steak. And, the chocolate ganache macaron plate is to die for.” She gave a wink.

“I’m starting work here today. My name is...”

“Cassandra Milhouse.” The sixty-ish woman at the Schein & Partners reception desk wore a twin set and pearls, which was at least a generation too early for her, but she obviously had the office at her fingertips. “ID, please.”

Cassie handed over her driving license, looking around. Nothing was drastically different since her interview day three months ago. The same quiet, expensive energy; harried-looking associates, one or two directors cruising the floor like sharks...

She steeled herself. This was not the time to appear weak. She had, implausibly, beaten out Indira, Cameron, and others for this role. Her bank balance, now even deeper in the red after starting an apartment lease, was making cow eyes at the prospect of her first paycheck. Schein & Partners did not, apparently, believe in muzzling oxen while they trod the grain—even baby oxen. Her base salary had made her weak at the knees when she read the offer letter. She was, however, certain that she’d be treading out a lot of grain.

She still wondered how she had done it. Schein & Partners only took one fresh new associate every six months; she had felt pretty good about how she had performed on the lawyering tasks during the interview day, but the face to face discussion with Schein herself was an enigma. She had repeatedly dissected it with Katie, one of her few close friends from the course, who was of the opinion that it had either gone horribly wrong, or terrifyingly well, and she’d only likely know if she received an offer.

“After all,” Katie had pointed out, “if the senior partner wants you, who is going to say ‘no’ to them? Though, they might like you but not actually want you.” She popped another chocolate in her mouth. “Could go either way.“

Here she was, with the offer letter in her briefcase carefully re-folded into its original heavy, expensive-feeling envelope. She had debated presenting it to the secretary as her bona fides but decided that it would appear insecure.

“Cassandra!” She turned to see Margaret behind her, dressed nearly exactly the same as the day she had met. A young woman, maybe two years older than Cassie, was standing timidly next to her. “Margaret Harrison, Commercial Litigation lead. We met at your interview.”

“How do you do, Margaret? It’s very nice to see you again.” Cassie shook the offered hand.

“Phoebe LeFevre.” The young woman offered her hand in turn. “I’m a second year associate, working for Margaret.”

“Cassie Milhouse.” Phoebe’s handshake was more tentative than Margaret’s.

“Phoebe will show you around,” Margaret explained. “You’ll be sitting with her initially, but of course we will rotate you around the office in the first few months, to see where you fit best.” Margaret turned to the receptionist. “Do you have everything you need for Ms Milhouse?”

“For now. Here’s your driving license, and a temporary .” The lanyard was pink, with the firm’s name in barely readable cursive. “We’ll organize a photo for your permanent .”

“Thank you.” Cassie looped the lanyard over her head, feeling for a moment like a calf being roped.

“The partners would like you and Phoebe to them for lunch at twelve,” Margaret noted. “I’ll introduce you to my team formally later this afternoon at the daily stand-up. Welcome aboard!”

Phoebe guided Cassie into the main office. “Lunch with the partners! I hope you don’t suffer from nerves.”

“What are they like?” Cassie looked around at the desks; the associates were fairly widely spread out, but their desks were often piled high with legal texts and what looked like trial file folders.

“Nadine is lovely,” Phoebe said, somewhat wistfully. “We don’t normally see much of her on the floor, though. Florence is the second-senior partner, she’s rumored to be thinking about retiring soon. Denise made partner early last year—she’s very sharp, not just in brains. Don’t cross her. Maggie—Margaret, whom you met—is likely to make partner when Florence goes.”

“All-woman leadership is unusual in a commercial firm,” Cassie noted.

“Derek leads Contracts and IP.” Phoebe pointed discreetly across the floor to a glass-walled office where a plump East Asian man with spiky frosted hair was on a phone call. “He’s a bit nerdy, but generally a nice guy. And, let’s just say that you don’t have to worry about him slipping a hand down your skirt.”

Cassie giggled. “Understood.”

They entered a stairwell, walking down one floor. Phoebe paused on the landing and pointed down.

“The floor below is mostly services—archives, tech, medical room. Don’t get into conversations with the tech nerds if you value your time. And, believe me, you will very soon be valuing your time. In ten minute increments.“

“Billing.” This was not a mystery to Cassie.

“Billing,” Phoebe agreed. “They’re going to get you working your ass off, girl. I’m going to need to get Maggie to sign off on the two non-billable hours I’m spending with you today.”

“They say that, if you can’t take a joke, you shouldn’t have ed,” offered Cassie.

“That’s true. Oh, and Ruth is the lady who runs the medical room. She’s a nurse, not a doctor, but she’s certified to do our polygraphs and blood testing. The firm has a zero tolerance of substance abuse, I’m sure you know—though, they’ll remind you any number of times during your online training.”

“Polygraphs?” Cassie hadn’t heard about this.

“We do some commercial work for government contracting firms that crosses over into national security,” Phoebe pointed out. “It’s easier for us to do routine polys internally—although, of course, the Feds can come in if there are special circumstances.”

They walked to Phoebe’s desk, picking up coffees from an alarmingly sophisticated machine in the floor’s small kitchen, and she pointed out the vacant desk adjacent with a blue folder resting on the keyboard. “That’s yours, honey. Get cracking!”

Two months, three days, nine hours, and a terrifying number of billable units later, Cassie sat back in her chair and yawned. Four fifty pm on a Friday, and the sky outside was already darkening. It had been a lot darker at six fifteen when she had exited her apartment block to make the fifteen minute walk to the office.

She scrolled back through the document, prompting her AI assistant to do a final review and references check. Hallucinated references were landmines that regularly detonated under careless associates, although the company tech team had done a good job building verification into the document production flow, so no one had been caught out recently.

As she was contemplating hitting “SUBMIT” the instant message window popped up. Someone named ‘Ruth’:

“Cassie: I’ve just noticed that we haven’t done your baseline poly. Could you please come down to the medical room ASAP so that we can complete it?”

Cassie groaned. The prospect of getting home at a relatively reasonable time had been driving her efforts to bang out the opinion. Could she say “maybe Monday?” She paused, and shook her head. Not a good look. Oh well, at least it wouldn’t hit her billable units...

“On my way.” She submitted the opinion, then stood, stretched, and walked over to the stairwell to descend to the services floor.

The medical room was easy to locate, a short way down the corridor, past two doors with prominent “ELECTRICAL HAZARD” and “NO ITTANCE” warnings. She knocked on the door with the white-on-green cross.

“Come in!’

The medical room was not expansive, but seemed well equipped, was warm, and smelled even cleaner than it looked. There was an exam chair, curtained-off bed space, racks of medical supplies, and several computing displays. Ruth, an older lady in a white tunic, was sitting at a desk in front of a monitor, but had turned to greet her guest.

“I’m Cassie,” Cassie offered, looking around. “For the... polygraph?”

“Thank you so much for coming, Cassie.” Ruth stood to guide the uncertain girl to a seat in the exam chair. “We need to do baseline polygraphs for all our new hires, so we can do meaningful differentials when there’s a specific request.” Cassie nodded, although the words were rather washing over her—seventy-plus hours in the office this week, and the same last week, had worn down her ability to concentrate.

“You’ve not had a poly before?” Ruth asked, pulling a trolley out of a cupboard.

“No, ma’am...” Cassie looked around, uncertain what she should be doing.

“ me your jacket, I’ll hang it up so it doesn’t crease.” Cassie obeyed. “Wristwatch in this bowl, and please undo your bra. No rings or bracelets? Good. No, you don’t need to remove the bra, my dear, we just don’t want anything constricting your blood flow. Yes, unzip your skirt a little bit, that’s perfect.”

“Yes, ma’am...” Cassie must have looked uncertain, because Ruth smiled at her. “You can just call me ‘Ruth’, darling. The most important thing is for you to be relaxed. Take a deep breath, sit back in the chair, and close your eyes, if you’d like. We’re just establishing a baseline here, you have nothing to worry about.“

That did sound attractive. The chair was well-padded, and after a whole day sitting in her Aeron, it was nice to let her body sink into the cushioning while she did something that didn’t really matter.

“Just a scratch... there, you hardly felt that, didn’t you?” Cassie nodded, barely aware of the needle now in her cephalic vein.

“I need to open your blouse; don’t mind me.” Cassie felt warm fingers stick electrodes on her chest. “Fingertips, please....” The tip of each finger was velcroed to a sensor. “And your right arm: this is going to feel tight, I’m sorry.” A pressure cuff inflated around Cassie’s arm until her fingers tingled.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Ruth suggested, stroking Cassie’s arm. “Give me a moment to get set up, and we’ll make a start. , just stay relaxed, and don’t over-think your answers.”

Ruth slowly pushed the hypnotic drug into Cassie’s open vein, watching the girl’s closed eyelids as they briefly twitched. Of course, she hadn’t asked why this would be necessary in a polygraph; the whole environment was set up to direct her into ive compliance.

“There’s a lot of nonsense talked about polygraphs, you know,” she remarked, opening a laptop that was now connected to the sensors. “It’s just about your physiological responses, and having a good baseline...” The best dissembling was based on facts that were mostly true and verifiable.

She unhurriedly adjusted her equipment, nudged Cassie into a slightly different position in the chair, and took a long time monitoring Cassie’s respiration rate, all the while chatting idly. Had Cassie been watching her, however, she would have noticed Ruth’s eyes focused like a raptor on Cassie’s reactions.

“You look tired, Cassie,” she remarked, apparently artlessly. “Are they working you too hard?”

“Oh, you know,” Cassie mumbled, feebly waving her hand. “It’s what we signed up for.”

Quite apart from her current intentions, Ruth was a very competent polygraphist, and she didn’t even need to see the laptop screen to read an evasive response. She smiled to herself. Of course Cassie was tired now; Nadine had ensured a high workload for the past couple of weeks, and Ruth had carefully picked Friday early evening as the appropriate time for Cassie’s first training.

“Let’s start with some easy ones,” she cooed, gently stroking Cassie’s hand. “, just stay relaxed, and don’t think about your answers... Is your name Cassandra Milhouse?”

“Yes.’”

“Are you twenty three years old?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a sister?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a brother?”

“No.”

“Do you have a pet tiger?”

“No!” Despite the situation, Cassie giggled, and Ruth followed her.

“I thought you’d like that one. Now sit back, , just stay relaxed, and don’t think about your answers... Are you employed at Schein and Partners?”

Ruth patiently walked Cassie through the innocuous questions until the sensors showed her body slowing down, and the delay in answering even simple questions was noticeable. The hypnotic drug being in effect, she effortlessly transitioned to the second part of her script, sending a discreet message on her cellphone as she did so.

“Have you ever been in a romantic relationship?”

“Yes.”

“Are you in a romantic relationship now?”

“No.”

“Do you feel relaxed?”

“Yes.” A faint smile appeared on Cassie’s face.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yes.”

“Do you feel safe here?”

“Yes...”

“You’re very safe here. Everything is so comfortable and warm, and soothing; you know you could open your eyes if you wanted to, but there’s no need for now, you can just sit there in the warm and smile, and relax, and listen to my voice, but you don’t have to think, don’t have have to do anything, let the words just flow past you...”

Ruth carefully kept her voice at a low, sweet tone with a slow rhythm underpinning it, watching her sensors and Cassie’s expression as the girl slid deeper into the hypnotic trance.

The side door to the medical room opened silently and Nadine entered. She picked her way over to the chair and sat next to Cassie, her head only a few feet away.

Ruth continued: “Breath in through your nose, and out through your mouth, in through your nose and out through your mouth, feeling yourself relax even more, in through your nose and out through your mouth...” Cassie’s nose twitched as the scent of Nadine’s deliberately applied perfume was drawn into her. “Smell the roses waving in the warm breeze... Isn’t it perfect being here? Pretty girls need to relax. Pretty Cassie can relax here as long as she wants, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth...”

Nadine took over, her voice little more than a whisper in Cassie’s ear. “In through your nose and out through your mouth, with the roses in the warm breeze, floating on the breeze, in the warm air, like the most comfortable bed ... Pretty Cassie relaxing here in our safe, warm, secret space...”

Ruth gently unbuttoned the remaining buttons on Cassie’s blouse and folded the fabric to the side to expose the girl’s milk-white breasts and small pink nipples.

Nadine continued: “don’t think about your answers, just relax in how good everything feels...”

Ruth started to give light strokes around Cassie’s nipples. The girl’s expression changed as she drew a breath in surprise, but Nadine was already anticipating the reaction. “Everything feels good, just as it should. You’re in good hands, being given good care, and all you have to do is listen to my voice, feel it flowing over you like warm water... It’s so nice being here, you could stay here forever, just listening and obeying the words...”

Ruth fully unzipped Cassie’s skirt and eased it down a few inches, showing the top of her polka dot undies.

Nadine continued: “You that Nadine invited you to her apartment Saturday 7pm. Saturday 7pm at 433 Lakeside Apartment 7C, you were going to write it in your diary. You’re looking forward to seeing Nadine there...”

Ruth dabbed some lube on her finger, eased it under the waistband of Cassie’s undies, and lightly traced along the girl’s warm lips. Cassie gave a shiver, but again, Nadine had anticipated this.

“Nadine makes you feel different, doesn’t she? She’s like no one you’ve ever met before. She takes such good care of you, makes sure that you are safe, gives you everything you need...” Ruth’s finger slipped inside to touch the tip of Cassie’s rosebud, drawing a whimper of pleasure from the girl. “That’s right, just relax, there’s no need to think. Pretty Cassie just needs to relax, let the feelings flow through you...“