The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I wake the next morning in my apartment, feeling raw but incredibly well-rested. Seriously, I feel as if I slept a solid week. Getting hypnotized does have its benefits.

There’s still a few hours before I have to leave for work. I make myself coffee, sit on my only kitchen stool, and think over last night.

First: I remember everything very clearly. I think. Before I left, Roger put me back under and de-programmed me. I was still pretty out of it while Ubering home, but the cobwebs are gone now. I remember the evening: I remember falling into a trance, I remember thinking Roger was Dwayne Johnson (so weird to think about now) and I remember the sex. The earth-moving, sky-splitting soul-shaking sex. If I am honest…

…I’ll admit it may be the single best sex of my life. No kidding.

But I also remember being totally convinced of everything Roger told me. What were his words? He said, “Once you are under my control, you will do or say or believe anything I tell you to.”

Well, he wasn’t lying. I think back through all the sweaty sex and yes, while it was award-winning, I clearly remember thinking that Roger in his Dwayne Johnson disguise was my master and I would do anything for him. Anything.

He could have fucked me without protection, for one. What is one of the cardinal rules of escorting? Never do anything you’ll regret.

Well, I gave up control of my freakin’ mind to Roger last night. I regret that. I regret that more than I can say.

I sigh. Sitting on the kitchen counter is my very large, very overstuffed envelope from last night. I pull it towards me, and its contents spill onto the floor. There are literally stacks of Benjamin Franklins piling up down there. Its like a scene from a mobster movie. I pause, then begin counting the money one more time.

Roger paid me $28,000 for one night of hypnosex. I’m not sure where the extra money came from, but sometimes clients tip you a couple extra hundred if you provided service above and beyond. I guess Roger is tipping me?

The money is nothing to sniff at. We providers quickly learn to just get the money and worry about soul-searching later. And as I pile up the hundreds like I am building with Legos, I have to concede, this is an amazing payday. Amazing.

With two more nights like this, I tell myself, I could be debt-free forever.

I frown. I hate, hate, hate, hate that Roger controlled me so completely… but maybe this is a small sacrifice in the grand scheme of things? After all, he could have really fucked me over. He used condoms, even though I think I would have allowed him to fuck me unprotected while I was in his power. He could have hypnotized me to refuse the money. Or compelled me to give him my real name and phone number. Once you get past the hypnosis fetish and the master/slave thing, he behaved like a perfect gentleman.

I am moralizing. Roger is not a perfect gentleman. The question is… can I allow myself to be dominated again to make more money?

Most of the week ticks by before Roger calls me. He wants me back at his penthouse on Friday, 9:00 PM. I have no other bookings, so I accept. But I’m surprised at how nervous I am to be speaking with him again.

Friday night I pull on another little party dress, wrap myself in my overcoat, and Uber back over to the Park Hyatt. I have really mixed feelings about what I am doing, to say the least. Before too much longer, I’ll no doubt be naked, once again convinced Roger is my master, and sucking away at his cock. I’ll probably think its an erotic popsicle, or something. I wish this evening was over.

Roger greets me at the penthouse door with a forced smile. We politely hug, and he wastes no time. “Come on in,” he tells me, and this time leads me straight to the bedroom. It is illuminated by about twenty scented candles scattered about the room.

On the bedside table, I notice his pocket watch.

Usually when you meet a regular client, you chat a bit. Hi, how are you, how’s the job, you remember that rainstorm the last time we met, things like that. Light conversation is a good tension-breaker, and usually leads to kissing… which leads to everything else. Offered champagne is a nice gesture, too.

But Roger is disinterested in chitchat. He picks up the watch by the chain, and indicates that I am to sit on the sofa next to him.

Oh god, he wants to hypnotize me right away? At least this time I’m getting mesmerized with my clothes on.

I’m really nervous. I make myself comfortable on the sofa, and try to position myself like last time. Feet on the floor, hands in my lap, eyes forward. Right?

There are, like, a million butterflies in my stomach. Why am I going through this?

Roger is studying me closely. “You okay?” he asks, as he positions the watch before my eyes.

“Yeah,” I lie, “I’m fine.”

“You’re nervous,” he observes. The watch starts swinging back and forth before my eyes, back and forth.

“Oh no,” I lie again. “I feel good.” My heart is pounding.

“I get it,” Roger assures me, and amazingly, he sounds genuinely sincere. He touches my shoulder with his free hand. “This is a weird situation for a provider. There are days I wish I didn’t have this fetish.”

The watch moves back and forth, back and forth. I’m not relaxing.

“I’ll tell you what,” Roger says casually. “Don’t worry about the hypnosis thing. I’ll pay you well just for coming over. If you go under, so be it. We’ll just do this for ten minutes and see what happens.”

“You know what?” he adds. “I think you’ll find that just sitting in the same way as last time will help you.”

What does he mean by that? I quickly mentally re-check myself. I am sitting the exact same position as last time. Why would that help?

I notice that my fingers have unclenched. My toes are no longer curled up, either. The watch swings back and forth, back and forth.

“Maybe you won’t go under,” Roger comments. “That’s okay. Let’s do this a little longer. Last time you sat in the same way for me, you went under just fine.”

He’s starting to repeat himself. How weird. The watch swings back and forth, back and forth. I realize that my breathing has slowed and deepened. My nervousness is fading. There is something about sitting just like this which is associative. Last time, I was-

“You see?” Roger says, interrupting my thoughts. “You’re doing fine. Relaxing. It feels good.”

It does feel good, I admit. In my mind, I realize that I’m falling back into hypnosis, falling back under Roger’s spell. I could pull free, but…

…oh hell, I just don’t want to move just yet. The watch moves back and forth, back and forth. My hands are tingling slightly. I blink slowly.

“Yes,” Roger says, “that’s it. Let yourself relax… You feel so free, so peaceful. Allow yourself to go deeper.”

He goes on and on about how relaxed and deep I feel, and he’s not wrong. My lungs are breathing slowly and deeply and there’s something about that which soothes me. My fear is gone. In fact, for the moment I can’t remember why I was so nervous to begin with.

The watch swings back and forth, back and forth. My eyes are locked onto it, but my eyelids want to close. I want to sleep, to surrender.

Roger’s voice now fills my head. “As I count down from ten to one…” he begins, but I am no longer consciously listening. I allow my eyes to close. The urge to sleep washes over me.

And then I have that detached sensation I remember from last time. Am I hypnotized? I must be. I don’t care. Roger is commanding me, and I find all I want to do is follow and obey his instructions. It feels so good.

My thoughts drift apart as I relax even deeper. At one point, I think I am aware of standing and stripping nude, but I’m not sure about that. Roger’s voice flows through my own thoughts, and sometimes I don’t know between the two.

Now I am lying down on the bed. Roger tells me to relax a hundred times deeper, and my muscles obey. I remember nothing more.

“WHEN YOU AWAKEN, YOU WILL NOT REMEMBER HOW YOU GOT HERE, NOR WILL YOU REMEMBER GETTING NAKED. YOU WILL ALSO BE FULLY CONVINCED THAT I HAVE TIED YOUR FEET AND HANDS TO THE BED POSTS. YOU ARE POWERLESS TO BREAK THESE BONDS. THE MORE YOU STRUGGLE AGAINST THEM, THE TIGHTER THEY HOLD YOU. YOU WILL NOT FEEL PAIN IN ANY WAY.

“ONE MORE THING… AFTER YOU AWAKEN, I WILL CONTINUE GIVING YOU HYPNOTIC COMMANDS. YOU WILL KNOW, BECAUSE I WILL PREFACE EVERY COMMAND WITH ‘SIMON SAYS’. THE INSTANT I SAY ‘SIMON SAYS,’ THE NEXT COMMAND I GIVE YOU WILL GO STRAIGHT INTO YOUR SUBCONSCIOUS AND YOU WILL INSTANTLY FOLLOW AND OBEY IT AS IF I HAD GIVEN IT TO YOU WHILE DEEPLY HYPNOTIZED.

“ON THE COUNT OF FIVE, YOU WILL AWAKEN, REMEMBERING NOTHING, BACK TO YOUR NORMAL MIND, BUT STILL COMPELLED TO OBEY ALL THE INSTRUCTIONS I HAVE GIVEN YOU. ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR…”

“Five!” I hear finger snaps.

I groggily rouse myself. I’m not sure where I am. Wait a minute… I know. I’m in Roger’s four-poster bed. I’m-

I crane my next around. Why can’t I move my arms or legs? What’s holding them?

Oh my god. I’m naked, I’m on Roger’s bed, and… I strain to see in the flickering candlelight… My wrists and ankles are tied up. I tug at the ropes, but they do not budge. Oh god.

Roger is lying next to me, naked. He is actually stroking himself casually, two fingers, up and down, up and down his shaft.

“Roger,” I gasp. “What the fuck…”

Roger’s smile fades. He waves a hand before my face and tells me, “Simon says: You do not feel angry.”

I catch my breath. My fury melts. Roger did say he would control me. I guess I agreed to this. Sorta.

I lie back, wondering what happens next. Has he hypnotized me yet? I… can’t remember.

“I have a wonderful idea,” Roger exclaims, almost playfully. “I have another way to make you my slave again.” He leans forward, intoning “Simon says: The next time you have an orgasm, you will fall under my spell and be my happy slave again.”

My thoughts go blank for a moment.

Roger chuckles. “Let me introduce you to someone,” he says. Raising his voice, he calls out: “Kellie!”

The bedroom door opens, and a beautiful young woman enters. She is in her mid-twenties, long black hair, willowy frame, delicate Asian features. I’m guessing she is… Korean? I’m not sure. Her body is draped in a red silk robe and as she moves, I’m guessing it is all she is wearing.

“Yes, Roger?” she asks innocently. But her eyes are sweeping my body.

“Come here, darling,” Roger smiles. He hauls himself off the bed and practically bounds over to her.

Kellie’s walk is fluid, graceful. She is almost as tall as Roger. As they near each other, she allows him to slip one arm around her waist.

Roger passes his fingers over her eyes. “Sleep,” he commands.

Kellie’s eyes roll back into her head, and her entire body goes limp against Roger’s stocky frame. I see her expression go completely blank.

“And now,” Roger tells Kellie, “when you awaken, you will see a gorgeous, sexy young woman on my bed. Instantly you will become an unstoppable sex robot. Your programming is to make this young woman cum. You will do whatever you have to do to complete your mission. You will not stop until this woman cums.”

I am horrified. I am strictly heterosexual, and I don’t pretend to like girls even for clients who want two-girl bookings. Its just not my thing.

Roger carefully lies the limp Kellie onto the sofa and then approaches me. “Look at me,” he orders.

I do, and I am helpless in his gaze.

“Simon says,” Roger tells me, “that for today only, you secretly like women. You will try as hard as you can to resist Kellie’s tongue. But in the end, she will make you cum. The instant you cum, you are my slave again. Do you understand?”

“Yes master,” I involuntary say.

“Good,” Roger purrs. “Kellie? One, two, three, four… five!” He snaps his fingers.

Kellie slowly sits up, rubbing her eyes with one hand. She spots me. With one graceful gesture, she shrugs off her red robe, and it flutters to the thick carpet.

Kellie’s body is a thing of beauty. She is clearly a runner, for her waist is tiny and I can see the muscles in her legs and butt as she walks around the bed like a predator. She extends two fingers and runs them up my right thigh.

I gasp. What the…? I don’t like girls! But Kellie’s touch… I feel myself getting aroused.

“When Kellie makes you cum,” Roger reminds me, “you become my slave again.”

Kellie bends forward, and lightly kisses my right hip. She’s less than a foot away from my pussy.

Oh man. I’m in trouble. I pull on my ropes, but its no use.

Kellie smiles seductively at me, and then her fingers go wandering. Her left hand lightly traces my belly button, up my stomach, between my breasts, and then travels along my collarbone. At the same time, her right hand wanders down my outer thigh, over the top of my knee, then slides… slowly… up my inner thigh.

Roger, standing on the sofa, is still stroking himself. He looks positively wondrous. “Beg her,” he tells me. “Beg her to stop, or you will be my slave.”

I am very horny, there’s no getting around that. “Kellie, listen,” I gasp, trying not to think about those soft fingers as they approach my vagina. “Listen Roger… he has you hypnotized. You don’t have to do this.”

“Shhh…” Kellie murmurs, and begins gently kissing my erect nipple. Oh god.

I can feel the orgasm building within me. Fight it, I urge myself.

I try again, “Kellie, please,” I whimper. “I don’t want to… pleaseeeennnghhhh….” The last word disintegrates into a moan of pleasure as Kellie’s index and middle finger gently penetrate me and brush my spot.

I’m close. My hips and thighs are buckling as I try to resist the orgasm. I mustn’t, I think furiously. I mustn’t…!

“You can’t resist me,” Kellie chides, and then she strikes. While maintaining pressure on my clit, she climbs onto the bed, lowers herself between my legs and trades her fingers for her tongue. I feel it. Oh god, I feel it.

I feel it.

As Kellie laps me excitedly, I can’t hold out any longer. The orgasm burst up from deep within me and I shriek with pleasure as I cum. I cum, longer and more passionately, then I can remember. I must cum all over Kellie’s face, and I don’t care. I can’t hold anything back.

The orgasm is so powerful, my thoughts seem to fade as my body is rocked with uncompromising bliss. Every nerve tingles. I feel as if I am gushing with joy and physical delight.

Kellie licks on.

Suddenly Roger is by my side. “Simon says,” he says into my ear, “your ropes are gone.”

He’s right; the ropes have vanished. I don’t care how it happened. My legs snap up, although Kellie’s hands are in position to restrain them a little. At the same time, I reflexively grab her hair and push her deeper into my crotch. She licks harder; I cum harder; I shout louder.

My body starts buckling, as if I am having an orgasm seizure. And then…

…then I am spent. I feel the pleasure fade, and I go limp. Kellie releases me, and then slithers up my body until our eyes are staring into one another’s. She is lying beside me, gently nestling against my sweaty muscles. My arms and legs feel tingly and numb, but I manage to wrap them around her.

She smiles, then kisses me. A tiny kiss, just her lips and mine touching.

I am in love. I smile and openly kiss her back. She responds. In my mind, I know she must have my juice all over her, and I don’t care. I just want her body.

Kellie allows me to roll on top of her, and I then reach down and touch her pussy. What has come over me? Pure sexual instinct seems to have replaced rational thought. I want to touch her and make her cum too.

Kellie spreads her knees, and yes, she is wet too. I dip my fingers in and right away I see her eyes roll back. “Right there,” she breathes. “Don’t stop.”

I’ve never, ever fingered a woman before. Seriously! I’ve let my clients finger me and eat me plenty, but this is the first time I’ve operated the plumbing of another girl. Amazingly, I’ve found Kellie’s spot right away, and believe me, the girl is ready.

Kissing her body, I go to work. Kellie doesn’t hold out long. “Oooooohhhhhhhghggggggnnnn!” she moans. I feel her spasm. I know the feeling.

I pleasure Kellie and love every second of it. Maybe I should start do two-girl bookings. As Kellie rides out her orgasm, I kiss her over and over.

“And now,” Roger says, “you master wants his slaves.”

I look up. Roger, my master, is standing over me and Kellie, physically standing on the mattress. His erection looks huge.

“Yes master,” I say eagerly.

“Yes master, please fuck us,” Kellie moans. “Please fuck us.” She rubs her own clit as she licks her lips.

Roger lowers himself down on us, that lustful glaze in his eyes.

Several hours later, I wake in the sex-soaked bed. I am alone.

The memories are hazy, but they are rapidly flooding back. I remember Roger putting me under… being tied up… sex with Kellie… thinking Roger was my master again…. As I clear my head, I remember everything.

I sigh. Once again, I lost control. There’s something really unsettling looking back on these memories where I am under Roger’s spell.

I climb out of the bed and spot my clothes scattered about the floor. I am sticky from sweat and… other fluids. So gross. On my own, I decide Roger owes me a shower, so I pop into the bathroom—which is another whole suite, goddamnit—and scrub every corner of my body.

I dress, and when I emerge from the master bedroom, Kellie is in the hallway, checking her phone. She’s clearly waiting for me.

“Hey there,” she says brightly.

“Uh… hi,” I reply. This is awkward.

“I know, right?” she says, picking up on the weirdness of the situation. When two people first encounter one another because they are hypnotized to have sex with one another, have they technically met? I’m thinking the answer to that question is No.

Kellie pops her phone into her back pocket. “Let’s get a bite,” she announces. Its not really a question; she’s already decided for the both of us.

Kellie and I wander west for a few blocks northwest to Tempo Café. It is a little past midnight, but the joint is pretty full. We squeeze into a booth in the back. I’m still wearing my fuck-me party dress, so I keep my overcoat on; otherwise I’ll attract too much attention.

As we wait for our food, I study Kellie a little more closely. Wearing jeans, black tee, bomber jacket, and canvas shoes without socks, she seems a little spacy, but down-to-earth. I am assuming she is another of Roger’s regular providers.

“So,” Kellie says, her eyes flashing with the delight of gossip, “I have to know: is Roger your most fucked-up client? Or do you have a weirder one?”

She is a provider. I let out an inner sigh of relief.

“He’s out there,” I admit. A pause. I can’t help but ask, “What is with him and—“

“…and the hypnosis, right?” Kellie finished my question. She throws up her hands.

I say, “He tells me he can’t get an erection unless—“

“You’re hypnotized,” Kellie finishes. “Yes. That is totally true.”

Not for the last time, this blows my mind. “…the fuck???” I ask.

Kellie shrugs. “You’ve got me. Maybe he hypnotized his first girlfriend or something and his brain got stuck in that mode.”

“You’ve seen him often?” I inquire. Kellie nods. “Does he… you know, does he put you under every time?”

“Yep,” Kellie affirms. “Every fucking time.”

“Wow,” I exclaim.

“The first time…” Kellie says, then shakes her head. “I was so scared. But he got me.”

“Yeah,” I say. “What did he make you do?”

Kellie playfully narrows her eyes. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

It turns out we both had more-or-less the same experience, except Kellie thought she was fucking Patrick Swayze instead of Dwayne Johnson.

“Wait…” I say. “Patrick Swayze? The dead guy?”

“Ohhh,” chides Kellie, “you haven’t seen ‘Dirty Dancing,’ have you? I have this thing for Eighties men. Swayze, Don Johnson, River Phoenix, Andrew McCarthy, Kenny Loggins... So hot.”

“For real?” I ask.

“Don’t judge me,” says Kellie, her eyes narrowing in mock outrage.

One thing I’ve learned from my short time as an escort is that everyone has their own weird sexual proclivities. Roger’s is obviously hypnosis, Kellie’s is celebrity guys from the Reagan era. Mine… if I’m being honest… is James Bond, especially Daniel Craig as 007. Yummy.

Our food arrives. Kellie has been a provider for a little over three years. Turns out she was the general manager of an Olive Garden. It paid pretty well, but there were long hours. “I got tired of caring that so-and-so’s fries were too cold or this person ordered medium spicy but got slightly medium spicy. And whatever.” She rolls her eyes at such memories.

“One night we hosted a wedding rehearsal dinner,” Kellie recalls, “We had thirty-seven people, all yelling at each other, all complaining about anything. Literally anything. So much drama. They trashed the private room, then left no tip. Nothing. My people nearly quit.”

She shakes her head. “I went home that night, feeling pissed at life. I don’t know what came over me, but I pulled out my selfie stick and I shot all these picts of me topless in my G-string panties. I whipped up an online provider profile that night, posted the picts… and had two regular clients by the end of the week. I earned more on two dates than from a sixty hour week at OG.”

Kellie is a pro. I ask casually about some of her more problematic clients, but eventually work my way back to Roger. “Doesn’t it bother you,” I ask point-blank, “that while we’re with him, we literally think we are his slaves?”

“No,” Kellie says.

“Really?” I am surprised. “You don’t feel like you are giving up to much when he voodoos you?”

“No,” Kellie repeats.

I cringe. I can’t help it.

My dinner companion gives me a pointed look. “We’re escorts. The job is to meet with hobbyists and cater to their weird and fucked-up desires. That’s what we do.”

“Look,” she says, setting down her glass. “The way I see it is this: Roger doesn’t hurt me. He always uses protection. He is explicit about his expectations. And he pays me insanely well. Do you know how much money I’ve made off that fat little guy? Also...” she adds, “I have to point out that out of all my clients, Roger is the one who actually satisfies me. Every time I go to him, I know I’ll have multiple O’s. Good ones. Just sayin’.”

“He brainwashes you,” I exclaim.

“Which would you rather,” Kellie asks, “sex with a fat fifty-something bald guy or sex with Patrick Swayze? If I’m hypnotized, I’m getting the second one.”

“But…” I argue helplessly, “when you let him put you under, you are agreeing to be enslaved, to—“

“I am,” Kellie admits. “But I also know its just for a little. All my clients rent my body; I accept that. Roger rents my body and my mind. When I am under, he can convince me of anything. I go on this little adventure and I believe crazy things for a little while and I have great sex, and then I wake up and my life resumes.”

She slips her water. “And… I can’t stress this enough… I go home with a lot of fucking money.”