The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Xerxes frowned at the frequency-scanner.

“I know, that I should tune to Tara’s mind next, Kalchek— and that, potentially, the frequency-scanner is going to tune itself there anyway. But I just want to see something in Natalie’s mind— something’s jangling in my head, I just can’t quite articulate it— but I’ll make a note of where the co-ordinates are right now, so I can I get back to this point of Tara’s timeline.”

He pulled a bit of scrap-paper along the surface of the table which was beside the projector set-up, and noted down the position of each of the three dials.

“The last time we tuned the dials to Natalie’s mind, I think the co-ordinates were—”

He was only going by guesswork. But a moment later, the projector was displaying Natalie’s mind— as always, when it displayed her, there were no images of any kind, only emotional impressions.

Natalie was, at the moment they’d tuned to, of course obsessing over Tara.

My lovely prey, she was thinking. All of the different things I would like to do to you— the experiences I would like to create in you and then watch happen, watch you go through. I can think of a thousand different things…

“I’m repeating myself, I think,” Trewhitt frowned again. “But I was so distracted by my own sense of dissatisfaction before, I wasn’t considering this properly. That’s what’s jangling— something about that— Natalie’s clearly Run a lot of people, and defines herself by her ability to do so. And if presented with a new creature to prey upon— let me just tune back into the same range of time we left Tara at— the idea is just starting to form— I’m only just finding the words—”

The projector was displaying Tara’s mind, which meant there were images again. They’d fallen upon Tara’s consciousness at a point where— Natalie was Running Tara’s mind as the two of them were kissing heavily and pawing at each other.

Tara was thrilling at the feeling of having Natalie in her mind. And Natalie’s control kept telling her to kiss, and to grope— and then when she felt her hands doing as she’d been told— it felt so good to know she was doing it because Natalie wanted her to, because Natalie was in some way making her.

“There,” Trewhitt said, turning the dials a bit off target and letting all three lapse back to static. “That’s what my mind is trying to— If I could just— articulate— fit the pieces— I think I have it!”

He’d never felt he was speaking this directly to Kalchek before.

“From everything we know about Runners, I think you’d agree that a Runner like Natalie— wants more than anything to actually Run people. And that Natalie has made it clear Tara is irresistible her, and that she wants to Run her almost more than she wants to do anything else. At the time of the mental-capture the killer took of Natalie, Natalie was very skilled at Running and ravenous to do more, having discovered her ideal prey. If that prey is Tara, then behind everything we’ve seen Natalie do, it stands to reason that Natalie has been obsessing in the way we’ve seen in her thoughts.”

Even though Kalchek was only hearing this through the videocamera, and from hours into the future, Trewhitt could imagine Kalchek giving him sounds of acknowledgement— sounds which encouraged him to go on.

“But if Natalie has been thinking the kinds of obsessive thoughts we’ve seen her thinking— why isn’t she carrying out any of the plans she’s been imagining? There’s no reason to delay— she’s got Tara’s mind open to her, she can do anything to it she wants. But she only does the same stilted thing, over and over again— just Runs Tara for the sake of Running her. It shows no imagination or creativity at all. She’s so— stuck. So stagnant. The same pattern repeats itself. If she has all the dynamic imagination she has while we’re looking into the killer’s mental-capture of her, why does that never show in her actions? Why does she carry out the same steps again and again, as if by rote?”

Now he could imagine Kalchek frowning thoughtfully. And imagining that helped him to go on.

“Either the killer took a mental-capture of Natalie at an earlier timeline-point, and we’ve been watching Natalie obsess over a different creature she wants to prey upon—”

He’d thought he’d understood it, but now as he said it, his shoulders hung more heavily—the realization really striking at last.

“Or the mental-capture isn’t of Natalie at all. It’s of someone else, of someone else watching someone else, and for some reason it’s of importance to the killer, of enough importance for them to take a mental-capture of it.”

Saying it made Trewhitt deflate, though; gave him a strange, mixed reaction. On the one hand, it made him deflate, because all his assumptions about the mental-capture had turned out to be wrong. But on the other hand, he’d been so discouraged before, and while this also deflated him with the knowledge he would have to start over, it also lifted his spirits, because it gave him the feeling he had actually solved something, untangled some part of the knot.

“It’s disheartening to think I’m going to have to figure out who the mental-capture is of all over again, and why it was taken— but at the same time, it’s encouraging. I’ve felt I was getting almost nowhere with this— but dismissing wrong assumptions is just as important as realizing the truth. It opens my mind, so I won’t push away the correct answer just because it clashes with something I’ve falsely accepted as truth.

“I can’t say who the killer took the mental-capture of. But they have to be a Runner, too. And with the way Natalie’s been acting; as if carrying things out by rote— her behavior alone does seem to suggest the presence of a third person. Why else would she behave in a manner that is so stilted and unimaginative? She’s just operating according to someone else’s commands— carrying out what they’ve told her to do. So someone else targeted her, Ran her, and they are the ones who want her to bring Tara under control. I’ll bet you anything, Kalchek, that’s what’s going on. It does make me feel bad for Natalie, though. I’ve been so hard on her— but really everything she’s done— probably wasn’t her choice. It’s whoever’s pulling her strings that’s to blame. I don’t know who they are, but I’m sure there must be someone— I’m right about this, Kalchek. I know that I am.”

Just then, the frequency-scanner started to whir again, and began tuning to a new set of co-ordinates within Tara’s mind.

Tara had already arrived at the office for the day, and she’d been carrying on with her work as a Junior Assistant. Having just had the role for under three months, she’d by now gotten accustomed to the demands this role placed on her. And as she went about her day, she heard people grumbling about what a dreary day it was, heard people lamenting that it was still February, and only the 17th of February, what a dreary 17th it was— but Tara was in high spirits.

She could do all that was expected of her in her role, and look perfectly respectable on the outside, the way she had been doing ever since she had begun carrying out the role, but inside she still had that hidden deviancy— and the thing that was keeping her so cheerful, the motivation behind the smiles that were found to be incongruous with the weather and so greeted with such confusion, was the thought that Natalie might want to use her today. Call her away from her work to demand her sexual service, demand sexual service of her that determined her job performance in Natalie’s eyes, though that was a metric it never should have been considered by, and was, constantly.

Natalie had used Tara freely since she’d started her new position, and all it had done was make Tara more desperate for that use. She was becoming further and further addicted all the time to being Run, was associating that experience more and more with pleasure and orgasm, and even the many sex-acts Natalie did to her, or demanded that she perform herself, seemed only an outflow of being Run, rather than distinct actions in themselves which sought other goals.

Most of the day went on similarly, Tara traversing the office, taking care of this task or that one, chatting with this colleague or that one— but in the late afternoon, after she’d waited eagerly all day, and hoped, Natalie did, in fact, call her into her office.

When Tara entered, she expected to find Natalie sitting behind her desk, ready to hike her skirt up and take some pleasure, but she found, instead, that Natalie was standing near the door, ready to face her when she came in.

Tara had not closed the door behind her, so she could not speak directly to what her expectations had been, lest someone ing by hear her verbalize the debauchery that had been going on secretly in Natalie’s office. Natalie didn’t want her to give away their secret, so Tara didn’t want that either.

And though she was disappointed to see Natalie standing, she was also more convinced than ever that Natalie was perfect, and all Natalie’s decisions were perfect, so she was pleased that Natalie had made another decision that was perfect, even if it also happened to disappoint her.

Maybe Natalie had a meeting to get to— she might tell Tara to close the door and get down on her knees and masturbate until she got back, maybe. That would feel like indirectly being Run— it would satisfy a little of Tara’s addictive craving, give her a smattering of slight satisfaction. More importantly, it would make her feel the truth of her abjection, make her feel how much Natalie owned her—

“I am going to a meeting,” Natalie said, and Tara wasn’t disappointed either, that of everything she’d just thought, that was the only thing Natalie had found to be worthy of a response. “I have to speak with one of our Senior Partners at this firm; she’s the one I’ve had to keep sending my requests to for your internship extensions. And she’s the one who finally approved giving you the role of Junior Assistant.”

Tara nodded obediently. “And while you’re gone—”

“You’re going to come with me,” Natalie cut her off impatiently. “It’s time for the two of you to meet— I don’t think you’ve met any of our senior management, and she’ll be the perfect one to start with.”

Natalie gestured towards her office-door, then walked through it. Tara followed her.

She was going to have to appear her most respectful and dutiful in front of this law partner. She was going to have to keep her deviancy hidden, never let it show that she and Natalie were doing anything untoward together. That was what Natalie expected of her— she had to do everything she could for Natalie, wanted to do everything she could for Natalie. That was how she got rewards, but that wasn’t why she wanted to. She wanted to because Natalie was perfect— perfect and Tara should never question her. That understanding just made everything so simple. That understanding was completely correct.

“Alright, Kalchek,” Xerxes said, “this is a turn of luck for us. If Natalie hadn’t decided to bring Tara with her, we’d never have gotten the chance to see this other person. I’ll bet she’s Natalie’s Runner. I’ll bet it wasn’t a question of Natalie deciding anything, but of Natalie being told it was time do something, and then what that something was.” He had the pictures from that day in the plaza ready. “And if Natalie’s Runner was there that day at the plaza, and I did manage to get her in my photos, then I’ll be able to see that immediately. I’m ready.”

Natalie stopped outside of a door— she knocked twice, and then a voice from behind it said, “Come in.”

Natalie opened the door, walked through, held it open, and only once Tara had followed in behind her did she close it.

The woman behind the desk looked a little older than Natalie, maybe, but she was very elegant. Her eyes only flicked over Tara briefly— they settled on Natalie, and she beckoned Natalie with a finger.

“Not in any of the pictures so far,” Xerxes narrated for Kalchek. “Just a few more to go through—”

Natalie strode across the room quickly, leaving Tara behind in front of the closed door. She went around behind the woman’s desk, and held out her hand. The ring she wore on that hand was one Tara had never really gotten a good look at, but had sometimes felt the presence of. With Natalie’s hand held out, the woman reached, and drew the ring from it.

“It’s good to have that back in my possession,” she said, and Natalie visibly shuddered at this indirect statement of praise. The woman had seen Natalie shudder, and now the look in her eyes was more knowing. “You took good care of it while I was lending it to your possession.”

Natalie shuddered for this more direct praise, too.

“Not in any of the pictures at all,” Xerxes said, throwing the stack back down on the table. “She’s never crossed paths with Tara before, or even shown up anywhere in the background of Tara’s life. But I knew that ring was something out of the ordinary— I’ll bet she had Natalie wearing it as— some kind of sign that Tara was almost ready to be introduced to Natalie’s Runner— or something that re-inculcated that into her mind—”

Now the woman did look at Tara. “I’m Helen,” she told her. “Why don’t you come over here, and stand beside Natalie?”

Tara did it because she knew it would be what Natalie wanted her to do. She traversed this office, as she’d been traversing all the offices of the firm generally that day— and for the past three months or so. She went around Helen’s desk, and stood beside Natalie.

She looked— from Natalie to Helen back again. From Natalie to Helen— to the floor-to-ceiling window beside them, behind the desk. It was late enough in the day she could see her own reflection in it— it was only a moment’s ing awareness that there seemed to be gathered-blinds at the top of each which could be let down somehow. Then she was just looking: from her reflection, to Natalie, to Helen. Her reflection, Natalie, Helen.

“Tara’s hair is still that tawny color,” Xerxes observed. “But she’s keeping up those bleached highlights. There’s still something about her hair that looks natural, but those highlights intrude on that, and make it look artificial at the same time. Natalie’s hair— is kind of like Tara’s, and kind of different from it, too. Her hair color is natural— that’s the color that naturally comes out of her head, it hasn’t been dyed— her hair really is black when it’s left to do its own thing. So that makes Natalie’s look kind of like Tara’s— because the places where Tara doesn’t have those bleached-blonde highlights, her hair is still its natural color too.

“But Natalie’s hair looks different from Tara’s too, because it’s so— shiny. I knew it the first time I saw her, she must go and get deep conditioning treatments done on it. And Tara’s hair isn’t like that— so sleek, and smooth, and shining. The color looks natural, but everything else about it looks artificial. And Helen’s hair— I think Tara’s observing it too.”

Helen was the nicest to look at, maybe, Tara thought. Her hair was an navy color that had definitely come out of a bottle, but the style of it was so sophisticated— it hung only to her shoulders, but her bangs came to a sleekly arcing curve at her brow, and the entirety of her hair was perfectly sleek and straight and shiny— no frizz to speak of, almost without a single strand out of place. It was dark enough outside for Tara to see her reflection— but Helen’s hair was so shiny Tara almost wondered if she’d be able to see her reflection in its curtain, too.

Helen was dressed with as much sophistication as her hairstyle showed. She had on a tightly-tailored pantsuit, which was a lovely indigo color that somehow didn’t clash with the navy of her hair, though they were shades off from each other.— and her lipstick was a deep purple color which at the same time managed to look vibrant.

“Helen’s hair looks completely artificial,” Xerxes pondered to Kalchek. “It could be a synthetic wig, it looks so falsely perfect. They’re something to consider all in a line— Tara, with sections of her hair remaining in her natural color, and yet with those artificial highlights. And yet the texture of her hair still mostly natural, with none of the shine to suggest she subjects it to deep conditioning. And then Natalie— with all of her hair still its natural color, and yet that artificial hair-texture that shows she has it deep conditioned all the time. And Helen— everything completely artificial. Her hair is obviously dyed that shade, and on top of having a synthetic shade of hair, she has that same hair-texture that Natalie does; she gets her hair deep conditioned too.

“It’s like the three of them are points along a spectrum… Tara’s only just testing things out, adding one artificial element to her hair with those highlights, but otherwise leaving everything natural. And Natalie seems about three quarters of the way along— everything about her hair is artificial except the color, that’s her last holdout— and Helen is all the way there, artificial texture, artificial color, everything. Like her hair’s treated constantly and kept in a perfect state of conditioning.”

Xerxes frowned. “Tara’s hair, three-quarters natural, one-quarter artificial; Natalie’s hair, three-quarters artificial, one-quarter natural; Helen’s hair, four-quarters artificial. As if Tara is moving towards the point Natalie’s at— and Natalie’s moving towards the point Helen’s at— but what does that mean?”

Xerxes shook his head. “I’ve got a good track-record today, I can venture another deduction. It must just mean that— hair done in this style is Helen’s preference— so she chooses to wear it like this, and makes those she Runs copy her. It’s just the kind of style she prefers to look at.”

Helen held up the ring she’d taken back from Natalie. “Do you know what this is, Tara?”

Tara shook her head.

“I gave it to Natalie when she told me that she thought you were just almost ready to meet me. I gave it to her four months ago; I gave it to her for a very pragmatic reason, though. Despite the fact that Natalie likes to listen to me as much as she does, she did still get attached to you. So I lent her my ring and told her every time she felt it there, her mind would have to that she only has what I allow her to have, and— Natalie, tell her the most important reminder,” Helen invited, still looking at Tara.

Natalie was looking at Tara, too.

“That I made you mine only so that I could give you to Helen later.” Natalie practically convulsed as she said it.

“I was right!” Trewhitt exclaimed. “That’s twice in the past minute or two! Natalie has a Runner— it’s Helen— and the ring she had before— was from Helen, relating to when Tara would be allowed to meet her and specifically re-inculcating the fact that it must happen. I have to tell you, Kalchek, after being so discouraged for the last little bit, it is reassuring to have deduced several things correctly within several minutes. Having those deductions confirmed is a relief.”

Tara’s mind didn’t know how to accept this information. Natalie was perfect— Natalie was above question— Natalie was superior over every single person that existed— and yet— Natalie was being Run by someone else? The beliefs which she’d accepted about Natalie were now crashing into the reality that had just been revealed to her.

“I can tell you’re confused,” Helen said. “You just need to let me Run you, and then everything will make sense.”

Helen’s power was in her head, then. And Tara’s response was instantaneous. She was being Run. It drove an orgasm from her immediately— gave her that lovely drugged feeling of having her addiction satisfied— her whole body glowing in joy, all her erotic centers pulsing— she found it impossible to remain standing, so she let her legs give out, and hit the carpet of Helen’s office with her knees— she realized the same thing had happened to Natalie— they were both swaying as they knelt, and Helen was Running both of them— powerful enough to Run both of them simultaneously.

Tara understood what she needed to believe now. Getting her fix from a different Runner than Natalie felt like betrayal, but it didn’t need to. Natalie wanted her to belong to Helen, because she already belonged to Helen. Natalie had acquired Tara just so she could give her to Helen. She’d gotten too attached, almost possessive over Tara, but Helen had broken that out of her mind by giving her the ring— and that was good. Natalie had felt the ring on her finger— even when Tara had been servicing her sexually, and it had made Natalie’s mind pulse with the knowledge that nothing she had was hers to keep— that everything was only something Helen granted to her for a while, or took away.

Nothing was Tara’s. Everything was only something Helen granted to her for a while, or took away— and Helen had granted Natalie’s control to her for a while— now she was taking it away— Helen had granted Tara an affectionate and worshiping heart for Natalie— and now she was taking it away. Natalie was now someone Tara could co-ordinate with, co-operate with in service of Helen, but nothing more.

Tara’s mouth was gaping— Helen’s power was thundering through her mind, through her body— her jaw was slack, and her body shook— just having Helen’s present there was getting her off— in a warm, rolling orgasm that seemed to go on and on. Different than anything she’d had with Natalie— different than anything she’d ever had before in her life— she could only try to weather it—

Yet even held so firmly in Helen’s control, it was possible to look into her face— a face Tara already believed to be perfect and beautiful, though she had not thought that before. And from the expression on Helen’s face it was obvious— Helen was taking just as much pleasure from putting her power through Tara and Natalie as Tara and Natalie were taking in receiving it from her. Equal pleasure on both sides, but on one side the pleasure was from being Run, and on the other side, the pleasure was from doing the Running. But both sides of the dynamic equally pleasuring in it, harmoniously.

After a few minutes, Helen seemed confident that she had sealed her control over both of them; she withdrew her power, and gestured for both of them to stand.

“You’ve both been doing well in your respective roles,” Helen said, and crossed one sleek pantsuited-leg over the other. “You should both consider yourselves sophisticated working women, now.”

They knew Helen wanted them to think that, Tara recognized, and so she was sure they were both thinking it now— Natalie as well as her. That didn’t seem strange to Tara now— they were both on the same level, below Helen, and they belonged there.

“Do you know what sophisticated working women do?”

Helen pressed a button on her desk and the blinds gathered above each floor-to-ceiling window dropped to cover them completely.

Both Tara and Natalie waited breathlessly for Helen’s answer.

“They snort cocaine,” Helen said simply. She pulled one of the drawers of her desk open, and drew out a tray already covered in piles of white dust. She set this tray on her desk, and turned her chair— there was a razor on it too, and she proceeded to hash it along, drawing one of the piles out into being a line, then lowered her head above it, drew it along, and drew that line inside of herself.

She raised her head, and pushed her chair back.

Helen was perfect— the pinnacle of perfection, the model of all desirable behavior, and she had just done this— Helen wasn’t Running Tara at this moment, but Tara still felt she understood exactly what to do, understood exactly what behavior Helen desired to see from her. And believed convenient things that served this, found those beliefs easily falling into place. She’d snort cocaine like Helen had— and that would make her a sophisticated working woman, a fashionable young professional— that would make her as elegant as both Helen and Natalie looked. No, not Natalie, just Helen—

“This makes more sense,” Xerxes exhaled. “It’s horrible, but it makes more sense. This is creative at least— not just some rote set of steps over and over. Helen wants her victims to have an experience outside of just being Run and having sex to enhance that— this is the opposite of stagnation. Clearly, Helen’s mind is unfettered— she’s not mentally caged-in in the way Natalie is. She can go outside of bounds. This is using creativity in pursuit of destruction— but it’s still a use of creativity, it shows she has a fresh mind— it proves everything I was saying before. Natalie has been Run, is being Run, so her mind is stagnant, trapped always within the same parameters. But Helen’s mind is free, confined within no parameters— so she can bring in completely unexpected experiences like this. It still feels pretty good, Kalchek, to be receiving confirmation after confirmation for my deductions. Maybe I really will deduce who the killer is by 11:30, after all.”

Tara knew what Helen expected of her. She stepped forward before Natalie could, eager to prove herself— copied what Helen had done, hashing one of the piles of cocaine out into being a line, and then lowering her head over it and— drawing it in.

It was immediate euphoria— maybe this should have felt like a distinct experience in itself, and maybe all the sex she’d had with Natalie should have too. But all of that sex had only felt like an outflow of being Run; and this cocaine high felt the same, just an outflow of being Run, too.

Her addictive craving for being Run seemed to have met sympathy here, though. As if because of that tendency there had been something inside her waiting to be addicted, waiting to find something even more addictive than what she’d been exposed to so far. Or maybe waiting to find something that would make her existing addiction stronger— but whichever the case, she had found that here, in this cocaine high— in cocaine itself. She would be more addicted to Running now; and being Run would hold a shade of this euphoria, or maybe even more than just a shade of it.

This was more deviancy to hide inside unseen. If Helen was going to be like Natalie— Natalie had expected Tara to give constant sexual service as one of the requirements of her role.

Maybe now Helen was going to expect both Tara and Natalie to do constant cocaine— as a requirement for each of their roles. She’d certainly implied this in what she’d said so far.

And that would be— fine. Better than fine. That would be amazing. Tara was not so far gone as to be blind to the dangers involved— the thing was, that danger really only thrilled her. She could see what a cursed path this was— could see it would be wrong to walk, but it made her so wet to think of doing that. To think she was already doing that.

She’d just done her first line of cocaine, and she loved how slutty that made her feel. Loved to think of how bad she was being— loved to think of what ruin she was risking— she stepped aside, so Natalie could have her turn, but found it very hard to stand still. Her whole body was trembling from the euphoria of the high, but it seemed to Tara that it was quaking from the pleasure of exemplifying her immorality, too.

When Natalie raised her head from finishing her line of cocaine, she seemed to be in the same state as Tara.

Helen had already taken her clothes off, and when they both realized it, they took their clothes off, too.

The three of them fell to a pile on the floor. Tara felt full of a kind of pent-up release that was just waiting— just waiting to be expressed and let out. She thought Natalie probably felt similarly.

Natalie was closer to reach, within better range of Tara’s touch— and Tara was already used to sexually pleasuring Natalie, after months of giving her sexual service. But Tara knew things couldn’t be the way they’d been before, the way she’d expected them to go on until today had shifted all her expectations. If she simply reached for Natalie and went on behaving as if nothing had changed, as if the two of them were lovers and nothing else had come along to alter their dynamic, she’d be going against Helen, now. Potentially subverting what Helen wanted. And though Helen was still new to Tara, the thought alone of doing that made her very, very sad and upset.

So she felt frozen in indecision for the moment.

But Helen had seemed to recognize what Tara’s dilemma was, and then in the next moment— Tara was being Run again.

Tara jerked as she felt Helen’s power entering her mind once more. She felt like Helen understood her so well— didn’t care if it was only Helen’s Running her which made her think so. Helen understood that Tara wanted to have an addiction, wanted to have this addiction, wanted to feel it more and more, wanted it to spread through her identity and eventually her life. That was right— that was what Tara wanted. She wanted to be that Run, so Run that it defined her and everything about her.

And Helen understood that the way to make this happen for Tara was forcing her to dwell in the experience she was already undergoing. If Tara had to go on feeling the euphoria of her cocaine high— and the ecstasy that was Helen Running her— then both feelings would entwine themselves with each other, and Tara’s addiction would deepen— and if simple sexual pleasures, the kind Tara had been having with Natalie before, were added to this— it would just accelerate the whole process even more.

And Tara understood Helen too— she had Helen’s power in her mind, so that made her easy to understand, for Tara. Tara wanted to become more addicted, and Helen wanted to see Tara slut for her, slut with Natalie, slut with Helen, slut with both of them together. Tara could give Helen what she wanted, and Helen could give her what she wanted— it would be symbiotic— Helen getting to see Tara slut, and Tara, getting to become more addicted.

Slutting would help that too.

Her apprehension was gone; and Natalie was still in closer reach, so Tara rolled Natalie onto her back and rolled herself over Natalie’s body; she ground their bodies together, pussy against pussy, breasts against breasts, as their tongues played between their mouths— this was giving Helen what she wanted, demonstrating the kind of behavior Helen wanted to see from her, but it was just an outlet which allowed Running to flow out of Tara. She was stuffed full of Running, and when she opened up a channel it could flow through, it did flow out that way— and only in seeing it rush past could she really savor it— understand how much she wanted it.

And in a backwards kind of way that at the same time somehow made perfect sense to her, when all that Running flowed out, even more of it built up inside her to flow out next. She was flowing Running, she was a Running river, the arousal that streamed out of her or the orgasms which escaped her were only expressions of Running that made her need it more. And the high she could still feel inside herself— that was only an expression of Running. And when she had snorted that cocaine before, the act of breathing it in had only been an act of inhaling that experience into herself.

She was nothing— she was empty— just a sieve, which really couldn’t retain anything. Things got dumped into her, and whatever they were when they went in, by the time they ed through her, they had just become Running; getting high off of snorting cocaine turned to Running when it ed through her sieve— and fucking Natalie, both of them quaking in orgasm as they grinded and grinded— that turned to Running too, when it hit her sieve.

She was empty so she must always try to put more things in herself— but they would enter her and just become Running, and then she would just need more Running, and more Running— her addiction growing ravenously, and she didn’t care what the cost would be— it felt wonderful to be a transitional point things raced through— felt wonderful to be an open dam, and all that Running just water rushing and rushing through her. It gave her a feeling of peaceful satisfaction and quiet which at the same time demanded more and more— all experiences were just roads to Running, Running itself the experience inside her though she was not the one directing it, and she could be given anything and it would turn into what addicted her, and that would addict her more— she needed to be Run, she was being Run.

She and Natalie shifted themselves around, so that Tara was spread on the floor of Helen’s office, and Natalie was straddling her— then Natalie rode her leg for a while, and Tara felt that Run her— the experience of Natalie’s pussy dragging along her skin hit Tara’s sieve, and then it was just Helen’s Running inside her again, Running her— and each time she felt anew the disorientation and discombobulation of her high, that hit her sieve and it was Helen’s Running inside her again, too.

She needed Helen’s Running more— and then more— the craving just kept intensifying. She would do anything, she would sacrifice anything— she would keep her desperation secret as long as Helen wanted her to, but the second Helen didn’t care that she keep the secret anymore, Tara would humiliate herself fully and completely— she needed Helen’s Running inside her, it could only ever be inside her for the moment it was ing through the sieve because she was incapable of retaining anything— but for the moment it was ing through— everything was perfect.

“Helen’s doing more as she Runs Tara than Natalie ever did,” Xerxes noted. “See, Kalchek? She’s not just giving her a basic unimaginative experience— she keeps making it feel like rushing water for her— keeps making her feel like she’s a sieve. Natalie was never able to provide experiences like that— her mind was too caged— but look at what Helen can do with a mind so free. It’s still wrong, because this was all forced on Tara, and she didn’t have a choice— but it proves that Helen is the real Runner, and that’s significant. That matters.”

Helen physically reached into what Natalie and Tara were doing together, now. The three of them were constantly moving, rolling over each other, shifting, turning around, body against body against body, and who was in which position kept changing. For a moment Tara would be kissing Helen and feel Natalie at her back, groping her ass— but then Helen would be in front of her, and Tara’s hands would be on her breasts, Helen kissing Natalie— and then Natalie would be kissing Tara’s pussy, and then Tara kissing Helen’s— it all kept metamorphosizing so quickly that it was hard to keep track of.

It kept constant sex hitting Tara’s sieve, though— the sex then becoming more of Helen’s Running— which she could just feel inside of herself for the moment it drained out of the sieve, for the moment all of that water gushed through— and then all the sex was pleasure, but all the pleasure was really only an extension of Helen’s Running, and the high really was really only an extension of Helen’s Running, and Tara felt so Run— and at the same time needed more, would always need more— everything had just drained out of her sieve again. It could only be filled as it was emptying— she could only feel full as she was emptying— so she needed to drain empty again—

It was so lovely to be Run by Helen.

Helen came multiple times as the three of them kept moving their bodies through their session of dynamically shifting sex— each time she came, she put orgasms through mentally for Natalie and Tara both. Tara was sure it was happening to them both the same way at the same time because every time Tara cried out and thrashed in response to receiving this from Helen, Natalie had an identical reaction.

It was after Helen’s fifth orgasm that she finally seemed to have had her fill— and when she had had enough, she put a similar feeling of contented achievement through Tara, and, Tara suspected, also Natalie. They didn’t need to do anything more now, Tara thought, and didn’t care it wasn’t her own idea. She didn’t need Helen to Run her further at the moment. She would always need Helen to Run her, would always want more of Helen’s Running inside her— Tara’s sieve would feel so empty until it was there to drain out of her again, but Helen had decided they’d had enough for one day, and Tara agreed with her decision, Tara would always agree with all her decisions—

“It really is despicable just how much Helen likes to erase autonomy and independent thought out of those she Runs,” Xerxes lamented, with a shake of his head.

Helen had decided they were done for the day, and so they should be done for the day. And Tara could wait in eager expectation, balancing two incompatible truths: she was satisfied for now and she would never be satisfied— she’d had enough of being Run for one day and she could never have enough. At least her cocaine high would linger— would feel like a trace remnant of Helen’s Running, now that Helen’s power had left her.

Tara lay where she was, basking in an aftermath of contradictory satisfaction, simply very happy. Helen had shown Tara how it felt when she was Helen’s to Run, instead of Natalie’s. She’d enjoyed this first lesson, and if this early indicator was anything to go by, the short-term future was going to be very kind to her, and would give her everything she wanted.

The frequency-scanner whirred again. “It’s dialing to the mind-capture the killer took of— Helen,” Xerxes acknowledged. “So I suppose Helen is the one who— has all that experience Running people. Who Ran all those victims we’ve seen mentioned— the one forced into believing she was underwater, the one forced into believing she was out in space, those other victims— they were all Helen’s, and not Natalie’s. So Helen is really the one— who deserves to face some justice. She’s not the killer, she’s not killing, but she’s responsible for all the things I blamed on Natalie— and I said to you, about Natalie— that maybe you should find some way to bring her to justice. But now we know Natalie was only acting out Helen’s commands— and that the string of past targets we thought were hers were actually Helen’s. So Helen is the one who deserves to be brought to justice— maybe you can find something that you can get her for. She’s as horrible as I thought Natalie was— she deserves to be stopped just as much—”

Oh, it feels good, Helen was thinking. It feels good to have your mind respond to the first tendrils of my power— it will just feel better and better, the more that I make your mind receptive to me, the more that I make you my possession— but it feels so good just to have those first few tastes—

“That makes more sense, too,” Xerxes exhaled in relief. “Helen isn’t sitting around thinking of all she’s going to do to her prey once she’s caught them— while ostensibly having them right in front of her. She’s thinking like someone who’s already had part of the experience they’re eagerly awaiting. Of course she’d react this way— she’s already Run Tara once directly herself— so of course she’d be basking in some measure of satisfaction. This adds up. Helen is the one the killer really took the mental-capture of. And I still don’t say it’s good— it’s not right for Helen to behave this way, do these things— but it is helpful to see evidence which confirms what I deduced.”

Yes, those first few tastes— Helen thought again.

There wasn’t any more time for Xerxes to consider the killer’s mental-capture of Helen. Almost immediately, the frequency-scanner whirred again, jumping from the mental-capture in the back of the killer’s mind to the killer’s mind proper.

“I wonder why it jumped so fast, like that,” Xerxes pondered. “As if one was responding to the other— as if in response to what Helen was thinking, the killer started thinking what we’re about to see next. But that can’t be possible— I don’t think the killer has crossed paths with Helen yet, or taken the mental-capture of her. And clearly, the mental-capture has captured the same period of time that we’ve been seeing through Tara’s eyes, because Tara just experienced being Run by Helen for the first time, and Helen’s thoughts directly responded to that— so the killer can’t have been responding to Helen’s thoughts at the same temporal moment. Strange that the frequency-scanner jumped the way it did just now, though.”

And now the killer was thinking, in that circling, entrapping way, over and over—

The Fourth Law of Running states that Running minds is fundamental to the existence of the Runner. The Fourth Law of Running states that Running minds is fundamental to the existence of the Runner. The Fourth Law of Running states—

“That’s certainly how Helen acts— how Helen’s been thinking this whole time, replaying and replaying her conquests, like each one was a defining event in her life. And Tara recognized it, too, when she looked up at Helen’s face while Helen was Running them both. Helen was taking just as much pleasure in what was happening as they were, only from the other side of things. And I suppose in Helen’s case— at least in what we saw while Helen had both Natalie and Tara in front of her— Running minds is something fundamental for her— two at once— and it makes sense she can do that, given all the experience she has in conquering different prey-creatures. All of those experiences added up to something, increased her ability. No wonder she can Run two minds at once.”

Xerxes shook his head, and turned the dials back to showing static. “The killer’s just going to repeat the law over and over again. It makes their mind completely opaque, so there’s no point staying there and listening to them repeat and repeat.”

Xerxes exhaled, considering the static. “At least I feel I’m making some progress right now— things look more promising than they have in the past half-hour. I’ve finally identified the real identity of the person the killer took the mental-capture of. So now— I just have to hope I’ll see something which suggests that the killer has met Helen— and taken the capture of her mind— if that happens, I’ll definitely be able to solve this by the time I have to meet you.”

He glanced down at his watch again. “There’s still enough time for me to do it, if more information is revealed to me. It’s only 11:06. There’s still time.”