The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Did you come here to gloat . . .? I’ll apologize in advance, being locked up hasn’t put me in the most . . . ecstatic of moods.” Yana’s voice doesn’t sound quite the same anymore. She still uses a tone as if she should be standing above me or lying on some luxurious throne, but most of the bite is gone. Her features look so much brighter beyond just the blonde hair instead of black flowing over her shoulders. The starchy white clothes actually look good on her.

All around us the room, the table, the chairs, the walls, the door . . . all of it is white. If it’s supposed to be a pacifying color then it must be working. She looks beyond pacified. Instead of the darkness around her eyes, there are dark rings under them.

“No, Yana . . . I did not come here to gloat. You don’t have to believe that, but it’s true. I came here to talk to you. I wanted to know how you were feeling.” While her story was being written using my friends and me as pawns, I couldn’t imagine ever seeing her as a person, but seeing her like this has me actually feeling bad for her. “I know what you’re going through, and I wanted to help.”

She laughs, but it feels weak and desperate. Each individual laugh sounds more and more pitiful. It almost makes me want to wrap her up in a big warm blanket. The only negative effect of the starchy clothing is that it looks a size too big for her and has the effect of making her look sick.

Then again, I remember how I looked just after I’d had my powers sucked out. Looking just a little sick around the edges is no doubt the least of her worries right now. “Really? Help? You’ve helped me more than enough already.”

“If you don’t want to see me, I can leave right now . . . but I don’t think you really want me to go. You’re going through a lot right now and to be fair, a lot more than I did right after your mother had taken my powers in exchange for my freedom. You’re in a rough place right now and I know the way you feel every time you see a mirror or every time that you think about using your power the attempt just makes you feel useless . . . But this isn’t the end of your life. You can use this to grow, to help yourself heal, to—“

“I don’t want to heal, Silver Girl! Don’t you get it?! That was what I wanted, Silver . . . It was perfect. I felt no remorse, regret, worry, fear, or doubt. I spent every moment knowing that I was in control. I made myself that way.” She laughs, but she looks away from me as she does. “Do you know how hard it is to feel again? I don’t want to heal, Silver Girl . . . I want to die.”

A lot of people will say that they want to die, but very few people actually mean it like I know she does. Yana sniffles, just loud enough to be heard, and her arms wrap tightly around herself.

Before, she looked ageless like she could belong in any place, any time, and always be just the right age to be elegant. Now she looks like a normal woman in her early twenties. Was that when she first started to turn herself into the “perfect self” she’d been for so long? She must have gotten her powers at least around her teens like I did but I don’t imagine she used them on herself quite that quickly. It takes awhile to learn how the hell it works.

I’m sure even Pink waited awhile before she first turned her mind into candy, whenever that was.

“I know . . . but I also know that even for all of the evil you twisted yourself with, all of the wrong things you did . . . there was a scared woman underneath it all, taking control because she was afraid of losing control. In the end, I think you only challenged me because you somehow knew I would win.” Carefully I rest my hand onto the table between us and reach towards her. “You don’t have to lose.”

She turns to face me again and it’s not hard to see the tears sliding from both of her eyes. It’s no harder to see the desperation and loss in her eyes. “I challenged you . . . because it made a better story. That was all. I didn’t want to lose! I wanted to be in control, to be in control of everything, of everyone . . .”

“You’re lying. For a woman famous for writing fiction, you’re an awful liar.” I don’t know why I’m really here. Do I feel like I owe her for what she gave me and Olivia? Do I feel guilty?

Yana looks much more miserable than I did. I don’t think she’s been able to sleep at all since it happened. The doctors told me that they tried giving her sedatives but all they did was make her close her eyes instead of lay awake in bed with her eyes wide open. I never wanted to ruin her life even during the worst of it. I just wanted to stop her. Justice isn’t about destruction.

“I’m sorry. You don’t need me picking at your wounds. I don’t think you realized that you wanted to lose. You might not see it now, but I think there’s something inside of you that’s just wounded. I think that inside of you, is some ounce, some sparkle of goodness . . . and if you let the doctors help you, they can help you find it. Then you’ll be able to have a life of your own. I’m sure that story of redemption could be full of smoldering romance.” My lips try to smile, but my heart just isn’t in it. She looks so miserable.

She doesn’t answer, but she does sniffle louder. If I’m wrong, then all I’m doing is taunting a damaged mind. Maybe there isn’t anything left in her besides pain.

We’re too similar for that to be true. I don’t think that she was always this way. Something must have happened to make her want to deaden all of her emotions and turn herself into a smug mind controlling villainess. Sure, it sounds sexy and fun and without any pain at all, but someone who’s never been hurt doesn’t worry about not being hurt again.

I pull my hand back and just watch her. It’s hard to imagine that she’s the same woman but she is. Maybe she really isn’t the same person. The Poetess, The Pen, Ember, Emerald . . . even if they were all horrible people, they can’t be exempt from the fact that what you do while being controlled isn’t your fault.

“I’m sorry. I’ll go. Maybe I’ll visit next month, just to see if you’re doing any better, but if that doesn’t sound good just tell the doctors and I won’t. I’m sorry I made you cry.” Standing up, I push the chair in and turn around to leave.

“Wait!” Yana’s voice is like a young whimper and her eyes look so wide when I turn around. “I . . . You can come again . . . and I . . . I am sorr . . . sorr . . . I . . .”

The smile comes to my lips of it’s volition and not mine. Maybe there’s still hope for her yet. “I’ll come back, but I want you to think about what I’ve said. You deserve a chance to heal, Yana. You deserve a chance to be yourself again. Don’t let your past lock you into a future that you don’t really want. I’ll see you in a month.”

Yana nods, and almost smiles before she starts to cry harder. I almost want to hug her, to hold her and tell her it’ll all be okay. It wouldn’t be romantic, just friendly, just like family, but . . . she doesn’t need that. Not everything can be solved by sparks and a hug.

I nod back, and wiggle my fingers in a soft wave before turning to leave.

The Flagg Asylum has the best doctors the state can afford. If Yana can, and wants to heal, she has the best chance of healing there. Maybe some day, if she heals enough, we can be friends. No doctor would be able to heal her while she still had that ink in her head so this really is for the best. Maybe some day she’ll even agree.

Outside of the Asylum, I hop on the back of my shining silver bike and smile at the familiar purr as Sylvia’s engine comes alive. Within moments I’m burning rubber through the streets, shining like a shooting star.

Olivia is waiting at home. I just had to go for a ride, and I don’t think she’s ready to see the woman that turned her into an ink toy yet. The only reason I’m ready is because well, being turned into one kind of puppet or another is almost so routine that I’ve gotten used to it. There’s more to it than that, but going fast as I am those reasons just can’t keep up.

Alyssa and I are back in touch, and she’s been helpful as ever. She’s still a little sore about everything that’s happened but she at least doesn’t think I’m out to get her. She decided to stay in Midas, but warned that she just might need a vacation.

Susan went back to Coredelia, but we’re keeping in touch. She hasn’t even begun to stop scolding me about filling Olivia with the LaSilvas seed. I don’t blame her, but she at least tries to be happy for us and wish me the best. Our relationship has gotten a lot better since we learned to be honest with each other and talk instead of just assuming the worst. She still misses Lida, and feels a little young to be expecting two grand children, but she’s doing fine. She’s seeing a therapist to deal with the after effects of experiencing Yana’s control, and I think she’s doing even better than I would.

Valerie is still expecting . . . and I’m looking forward to being an aunt and then a mother. She remembers how I feel, but we both know it was just infatuation. Now that she knows how I feel and we shared a lovely crisis like Yana, we can finally talk to each other without feeling awkward. She finally finds the fact that my bike and her baby have the same name funny.

Silhouette decided it was better to spend some time away from Midas. She blamed herself for falling into Yana’s hands, and was sure that she hadn’t recovered enough from Chronos if she was still so drawn to me. I offered to help, but she refused. I gave her my number . . . but I don’t think she’ll call.

Mystic is a little more honest with her self now. She’s not seeing Valerie as her therapist anymore, and is insisting I find someone else who can patch up minds, but I think once she settles down a little more she’ll be back to normal . . . more or less. She’s keeping everyone at arms length so I can’t be sure just how perfect she’s feeling but well, not everyone can bounce back from something like this so easily.

Helena and Celia don’t intend to keep in touch, but they’ve been beyond grateful. They share an apartment and are finally getting the royalties for the books Quillspawn controlled them into writing. As grateful as they are, they’ve wanted to be left alone, and we’ve been happy to oblige.

Silver Girl . . . is back. I might not be perfect, and I might not be the same woman who came to Midas City looking for adventure, but I’m older now. I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m a woman, and I’m a woman who makes it her job to make sure Midas City is a safer, brighter city for everyone. It might not be especially humble to say so, but I think I do a damned good job all things considered.

It’s not a perfect world, and there are plot holes, poorly formed plot twists, one dimensional characters left and right . . . but it’s my world, and I wouldn’t want it any different.

A red light pops up in front of me, and I stop right at the crosswalk. The police radio isn’t picking up anything, and the streets are relatively quiet for once. It feels nice to have the biggest question on my mind be “what am I going to name my daughter?”