The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

04/19/2025 — Charlotte

I hunched down behind the scrubby bushes, squinting at Ridgeline Airfield through the morning haze. The place wasn’t much, just a single runway with cracked asphalt, a couple of hangars with peeling paint, and a sad excuse for a control tower that looked more like someone’s hunting blind. Sheriff Murphy had claimed it as his new kingdom after everything went to shit, probably for the fuel reserves and the tactical advantage of having planes. Bastard always was thinking ahead.

The wind gusted, whipping my hair across my face. I tucked it behind my ear, mentally calculating our odds. If the wind kept up like this, flying would be a bitch. Small aircraft and crosswinds don’t mix well, especially when you’re trying not to crash into the fucking mountains. I hoped it would die down before we got airborne, assuming we even made it that far.

“This is batshit insane,” I muttered, keeping my voice low as I adjusted the too-tight jacket I’d borrowed from Rowan’s place. “Even if we pull this off, we might be giving up our only real weapon.” I didn’t look at the others as I said it. They knew what I meant.

Warda smirked and tapped my shoulder with two fingers. “No risk, no reward, Charlotte.” Her eyes slid toward Cedric, and her expression shifted to something softer.

“The Sheriff might bite anyway,” Cedric whispered. “Maybe it won’t come to that...”

Gabriel checked his phone, took a deep breath that lifted his shoulders, then nodded. “It’s time. Everyone ready?” His voice was steady, but I could see the tension in his jaw.

“Yes,” Cedric answered, his tone clipped. The coldness between him and Gabriel was practically its own weather system.

“Ready,” Warda echoed immediately after, like Cedric’s words were her cue.

I sighed. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

We emerged from our cover and approached the entrance, a chain-link gate reinforced with sheets of corrugated metal and barbed wire. Real welcoming. Two guys in sheriff’s department uniforms stood guard, rifles hanging casually from shoulder straps. They watched us approach with the bored wariness of men who’d seen too many desperate people lately.

“What do you want?” the taller one called out. He sounded almost bored, like we were the tenth group of visitors that morning.

Gabriel stepped forward, shoulders squared. “We’re from Echelon Research Institute. We’d like to see Sheriff Murphy. We have a deal to offer.”

The shorter guard stiffened, elbowing his partner and muttering something I couldn’t catch. Whatever it was, it changed the vibe instantly. The taller one’s hand shifted closer to his weapon.

“Wait here,” he said, disappearing through the gate.

The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on. The remaining guard watched us like we might sprout tentacles, his trigger finger twitching. Warda had casually positioned her hand near her holstered pistol, and I found myself wishing Gabriel and Cedric hadn’t vetoed my suggestion to bring the shotgun Elaine had stolen from Lenore during our escape. A little firepower would’ve been comforting right about now.

After what felt like forever, we heard voices and footsteps approaching from inside. The gate rattled open, and there stood Sheriff Murphy, all six feet of beer gut and smug authority, grinning with a gold tooth catching the morning light.

“Well, well! My friends from Echelon!” His voice was too loud, too friendly. “Open up for our guests, boys.”

The gate swung wider, and we stepped through. Immediately, the shorter guard moved to Warda, hand extended.

“Weapon,” he demanded flatly.

The other guard started patting down Gabriel, then moved to Cedric and me. Warda hesitated, looking at Cedric with a question in her eyes.

Cedric gave a tight nod, though his face showed he wasn’t happy about it. Warda unholstered her pistol and handed it over, grip first.

“Just a precaution,” Sheriff Murphy said, spreading his hands in a gesture of false apology. “You’ll get everything back when you leave. I promise, cross my heart and hope to die!” He laughed at his own joke, and it made my skin crawl.

I followed the Sheriff’s gaze as he looked outside, his brow furrowing when he spotted the conspicuous absence of any vehicle besides the dirty black SUV that had been parked outside for half an hour now.

“You folks walk all the way from Echelon?” he asked with a half-chuckle that didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s quite the hike, especially these days.”

Gabriel shifted his weight, the lie coming out awkward and stiff. “We were dropped off nearby. Our driver had other business.” Technically not a lie.

“Uh-huh.” Murphy’s smirk said he didn’t believe it for a second, but he didn’t press. That was worse somehow, like a cat playing with mice before the kill. “My man says you’ve got a deal for me. Let’s talk somewhere more comfortable, shall we?”

We followed him through the airfield, and I took mental inventory of everything. At least eight guys in uniform patrolling with rifles. Two women in similar getups, claimed, obviously, but still armed and dangerous. My eyes caught on another woman near the far hangar, not in uniform, checking something on a clipboard. Cedric’s head tilted slightly in her direction, our target. The Cirrus SR22 must be in that hangar.

Murphy made a subtle hand gesture, and one of the armed women peeled away from her post to follow us. Her weapon wasn’t pointed at us, but it wasn’t holstered either. My stomach knotted.

The Sheriff’s “office” turned out to be the former airport manager’s space, a cramped room with windows overlooking the runway. He dropped into a leather chair behind a desk cluttered with maps, ammunition boxes, and a half-empty bottle of whiskey. His gun landed on the desk with a heavy thunk, positioned where he could grab it in a heartbeat. The woman who’d followed us took up position by the door, our only exit, her eyes watchful.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Murphy said, gesturing for us to sit in the mismatched chairs opposite his desk. “Despite the wind. How are things at Echelon these days?”

We mumbled vague responses while I tried not to look like I was calculating the distance to his gun.

Cedric cleared his throat. “Where’s your second-in-command today?”

The Sheriff looked confused for a moment, then chuckled. “Oh, you mean Alexandra? My deputy?” He leaned back, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops. “She’s working. Most popular girl I’ve got, truth be told. Though folks usually come calling for that kind of business in the evenings. Guess someone was very horny this morning.”

The implication hung in the air like a bad smell. Cameron had heard rumors about Murphy turning the station into something between a fortress and a brothel, but hearing the Sheriff talk so casually about pimping out hos claimed women made my skin crawl.

His expression shifted, the jovial mask slipping into something more businesslike, though the smirk remained. “Always happy to make deals with Echelon folks. How can I help you today?” He nodded at Gabriel. “Last time we did business worked out nicely for both of us, didn’t it?”

Gabriel leaned forward slightly. “As I recall, you said you might be interested in acquiring some solar panels.”

Murphy’s eyebrows rose, genuine interest flickering across his face. “That I am. Power grid won’t last forever. What’ve you got in mind?”

“We need to borrow your plane,” Gabriel said. “The Cirrus SR22.”

The Sheriff’s face went blank for a moment, then the smirk returned, sharper this time. He snorted, all playfulness gone from his eyes.

“My planes are precious commodities these days,” he said, tapping his fingers on the desk. “Would take quite a few solar panels to make that deal worth my while, supposing I trust you to bring it back when you’re done playing with it.”

“We’re prepared to give you what you need,” Gabriel replied.

Murphy nodded slowly, chuckling as if considering a joke only he understood. “I’d be tempted. Solar power’s gonna be worth its weight in gold soon enough.” His eyes hardened. “But unfortunately, you folks don’t have the authority to give me what I want.”

Gabriel tensed. “What do you mean?”

My pulse quickened as warning bells screamed in my head. Something was very wrong.

“Well,” Murphy drawled, “Dr. Smith is in charge of Echelon now, isn’t he?”

Fuck. My blood turned to ice. The woman by the door shifted her stance, her grip tightening on her weapon.

The Sheriff picked up his gun, turning it over in his hands like a curious artifact. He laughed at our frozen expressions. “Been in touch with Smith for a while now. Even provided some supplies for his little takeover. Funny thing is, he called me just yesterday. Said he’d be mighty grateful if I helped find a group of runaways.” His eyes locked on me. “Especially a woman matching your description, sweetheart.”

I didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Just waited.

“Don’t do this,” Cedric said, his voice low and urgent. “Smith is a psychopath. We need that plane. If we succeed, Smith loses his power, and we regain control of Echelon. Then you can have all the solar panels you want.”

Murphy’s gun was suddenly pointed in our direction, the woman by the door mirroring his action with practiced precision.

“Smith isn’t a psychopath,” he said, all pretense gone from his voice. “He’s just smart enough to know what the new world order is and how to play the game.” His gold tooth glinted as he smiled. “Unlike you folks. You seriously think I’d risk a working partnership for a maybe?”

The Sheriff’s amusement at our predicament was written all over his smug face, his gold tooth catching the light as he chuckled.

The door opened, and in walked Alexandra, the Sheriff’s claimed deputy I’d been told about, topless, like she was some kind of trophy he wanted to show off. Short blonde hair, clear blue eyes, toned arms. She dropped a heavy bag on the floor and sauntered over to Murphy like this was perfectly normal, wrapping her arms around him from behind and leaning in for a kiss.

Murphy turned slightly, keeping his gun trained on us while his free hand squeezed one of her breasts roughly. Just before their lips met, he paused, his brow furrowing.

“You been using that mouth for business this morning?” he asked, suspicious.

Alexandra chuckled. “That new gentleman couldn’t get it up. Performance anxiety.” She rolled her eyes. “Didn’t do much of anything.”

“As long as he paid...” Murphy grunted, kissing her before laughing.

He gestured toward us with his gun. “Look who showed up today.”

Alexandra stared at us, her eyes calculating despite the smirk on her lips. “Well, isn’t that convenient? Saves us the trouble of hunting them down.” There was something in her gaze as it swept over our group, something that made me hold my breath.

Her eyes flicked to the woman guarding the door, assessing her for a moment. “I’ll take it from here, Kelly. Jason needs help with the fuel truck.”

The guard hesitated, looking to Murphy for confirmation.

“Go ahead,” the Sheriff said with a dismissive wave. As Kelly left, he pointed his gun more deliberately at us. “Nobody fucking moves, or I start making holes in people.”

Then he launched into a monologue, the kind of self-important bullshit that men with new power can’t seem to resist. Alexandra positioned herself behind him, massaging his shoulders, her breasts pressing against the back of his neck.

“You people don’t get it,” Murphy said, his gun lowering slightly as he relaxed into Alexandra’s touch. “The old world is dead. All that equality crap, all those rules, they’re gone. This is nature taking back control. Men lead, women follow. Simple as that.”

His voice droned on about the “natural order” and how we were fighting against “biological destiny.” I barely listened, watching Alexandra’s face as she worked her hands over his shoulders. For a moment his finger moved away from the trigger, and Alexandra did not miss her chance.

“You like my tits against you, don’t you, Greg?” she purred, her voice honey-sweet. Then in one fluid motion, her arm snaked around his throat, locking into a perfect chokehold. “Well, enjoy them one last time.”

Murphy’s gun clattered to the desk as his hands flew to his throat, his face rapidly turning purple. Warda lunged forward, snatching the weapon before it could slide off the edge.

I sat frozen, watching the scene unfold with a mix of horror and fascination. Cedric jumped to his feet, positioning himself by the door. Gabriel just stared, his eyes wide.

Murphy’s struggles weakened, his eyes rolling back as his body went limp. Alexandra held on for another thirty seconds before dropping him unceremoniously. His head hit the desk with a dull thud.

She straightened up, completely unfazed, even amused by our shocked expressions. “What? Never seen a topless woman kill someone before?”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out my pocket VLF transmitter, tossing it to me. I caught it reflexively, relief flooding through me as my fingers closed around the familiar device.

“My last client, or should I say my new owner, said to give that back to you,” she said, nodding toward me. “That thing’s crazy. Pulled quite a trick on me, switching masters just like that.” She snapped her fingers for emphasis.

I smirked, exchanging a glance with Gabriel. His return smile was tight but relieved.

“We’re not done yet,” Warda hissed, jerking her head toward the window that overlooked the hangar where our target plane waited. “We still need to get out of here.”

Alexandra grabbed Murphy’s gun from Warda and retrieved her large bag. “Get in line. I’ll march you to the plane, but look miserable, like I’m taking you somewhere bad.”

She shoved us out the door, playing the role of jailor with disturbing conviction. She locked the door behind us and pushed us forward. As we crossed the compound, another uniformed woman approached, eyeing us suspiciously.

“Where are you taking them?” she asked Alexandra.

“Sheriff wants them in Hangar Three,” Alexandra replied without missing a beat. “Says they’re too valuable to put with the other prisoners in the old terminal. Smith’s coming to collect them personally later.”

The woman nodded, apparently satisfied, and continued on her way. I let out the breath I’d been holding.

As we trudged across the tarmac toward the hangar, Alexandra muttered, “Weirdest fucking thing, having your brain rewired like that. One minute Murphy’s my whole world, the next, poof, I’d kill for some guy I’ve never even met before.”

“Tell me about it,” Warda said with a smirk.

“I don’t even know my new owner’s name,” Alexandra said, prodding Gabriel in the back with the gun for show as another guard glanced our way.

“It’s Rowan,” Gabriel told her quietly. “Rowan Blackwood.”

“Rowan,” Alexandra repeated, as if tasting the name on her tongue. “Rowan.” She smiled, a dreamy expression crossing her face.

The hangar doors creaked open, revealing the woman we’d spotted earlier. She looked up from her clipboard, confusion spreading across her face as she took in our little prisoner parade.

“What’s going on?” she asked Alexandra, her eyes darting between us. I noticed the pistol holstered at her hip. Another complication.

Alexandra shoved Gabriel forward for show. “Sheriff’s orders. They’re to be held here until Smith arrives from Echelon.”

The woman frowned, gesturing at the planes around her. “This isn’t exactly ideal for holding prisoners. I’m supposed to be checking the fuel lines and doing the weekly maintenance. Can’t do that with them underfoot.”

We pushed past her into the hangar anyway. Inside were two small Cessnas, old workhorses with chipped paint, and the sleek Cirrus SR22, its white and blue exterior gleaming even in the dim light. Our ticket to Jim Creek, if we could get it out of here.

The woman followed us, her protests growing more insistent. “This doesn’t make sense. The old terminal building is set up for—”

Alexandra spun around, cutting her off. “Are you seriously questioning the Sheriff’s orders? You want to be the one to tell him you thought you knew better?” Her hand rested casually on her gun.

The woman’s mouth snapped shut, but her eyes still showed doubt. While they were focused on each other, I slipped behind her, palming the pocket transmitter. One button press, and the unclaiming program activated with a soft beep. The woman went rigid, her eyes widening as the signal rewired her brain.

Alexandra watched, fascinated. “Shit, is that how I looked when Rowan used that thing on me? Like someone hit my reset button?” She handed her bag to Gabriel and sighed.

“Charlotte, get to the plane,” Gabriel hissed, gesturing urgently. “And we need those doors open, now!”

I sprinted to the Cirrus, yanking open the door and sliding into the pilot’s seat. The cockpit was familiar but different, more sophisticated than the planes I usually flew. I scanned the controls, trying to orient myself. Fuck, I should’ve studied the manual more.

Through the windshield, I watched the woman come back to life, blinking in confusion. Gabriel approached her, touching her arm and speaking words I couldn’t hear. Her expression shifted instantly to one of devotion. Claimed.

Warda and Alexandra were already hauling on the massive hangar doors, pushing them wider to give us a clear exit path. I found the master switch, flipped it on, and started the pre-flight checklist at record speed. The fuel gauge showed full tanks, at least something was going our way.

Then the alarms started.

High-pitched wailing cut through the air, and my blood turned to ice. They’d either found Murphy’s body or someone had spotted the open hangar and put two and two together. Either way, we were fucked if I didn’t get this bird in the air.

I hit the starter, and the propeller spun lazily before dying with a pathetic sputter. “Come on, you piece of shit,” I muttered, trying again. Nothing.

Gunfire erupted outside. Everyone in the hangar ducked for cover as bullets pinged against metal and thudded into wood. Alexandra and the newly claimed woman positioned themselves near the doors, returning fire with practiced precision, though Alexandra was clearly the better shot.

Gabriel, Cedric, and Warda scrambled into the plane, slamming the doors behind them.

“Hurry the fuck up!” Warda shouted.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” I snapped, frantically checking the mixture and throttle. “The damn thing won’t start!”

I tried the starter again, holding my breath. The engine coughed, sputtered, then roared to life. “Finally!”

I released the brakes and we began to crawl forward, painfully slow. Outside, Alexandra and the other woman had moved to positions flanking the hangar doors, providing covering fire as we emerged.

“Go, go, go!” Gabriel urged from behind me.

I didn’t bother with the proper taxiway, just cut straight across the tarmac toward the runway, the plane bouncing over uneven ground. More shots rang out, pinging off our fuselage. Through the side window, I saw the newly claimed woman jerk backward, a spray of red misting the air as she collapsed.

“Fuck!” I yanked the controls, narrowly avoiding a service vehicle someone had abandoned in our path.

We hit the runway at an angle, and I shoved the throttle forward. The engine screamed as we picked up speed, the airfield rushing past in a blur. The crosswind hit us hard, pushing against the left wing. I fought the controls, teeth clenched so hard my jaw ached.

“Come on, baby, fly,” I whispered.

The airspeed indicator climbed. I pulled back on the yoke, feeling the wheels leave the ground, then the left wing dipped dangerously, nearly scraping the runway. My stomach lurched as I corrected, fighting the wind that seemed determined to slam us back down.

Then we were up, climbing into the cloudy sky. The airfield shrank beneath us, figures still running and firing uselessly at our retreating form.

“Holy shit,” I breathed, my hands shaking on the controls. “We actually made it.”