The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Professor Holtzburg offers the class a wry smile.

“Today, we’re continuing our discussion of German Idealism,” the old man announces. “But first… a pop quiz! Everyone clear your desks.”

There’s an unspoken groan that rises throughout the whole classroom. Pop quiz??? Goddamnit. You skimmed today’s assigned reading during lunch. But a quiz? C’mon! This will be like getting mugged! You’re so fucked.

It’s the day after the hypnotism show—which you still can’t remember—and both you and Taylor are in Nineteenth Century Philosophy Studies. You fucking hate this class. It’s a shitload of reading and that you can’t make heads or tails of. The midterm for this class is gonna be a slaughter.

As you angrily shove your backpack under your desk, you share a dark look with Taylor. She’s just as glum as you are.

Professor Holtzburg hands out the quiz. You let out a disgruntled exhale, then face Question 1:

“Who is credited with the following statement: ‘Man can do what he wills but he cannot will what he wills.’”

1. Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel
2. Søren Kierkegaard
3. Arthur Schopenhauer
4. Auguste Comte

Jeez, who said this? Maybe… Kierkegaard? Kierkegaard was the religious guy who was all about getting with God, or something. No, its not him. So the quote must be Hegel? Hegel thought history and reality were the same thing but different, so-

Oh shit. You know!

The answer is Schopenhauer. Its totally Schopenhauer! Now you remember, and remember so clearly: Schopenhauer was that depressing recluse guy who thought human free will was bullshit. This quote is totally his!

With confidence, you circle (C) and move on to Question 2.

The lecture’s now over. You’re in a glowing mood because the class T.A. graded that quiz and you aced it! With a perfect score! Yayyyyy!!!

You’re now outside on the sidewalk, patiently waiting for Taylor to emerge from the classroom. She’s still inside, fruitlessly arguing with Professor Holtzburg.

Oh wait, there she is! Taylor skips down the stairs of Hagerty Hall, her backpack slung over her narrow shoulder. She looks pissed.

“Hey, Tails,” you say cheerfully. “How’d it go?”

“Holtzburg’s such an asshole,” is Taylor’s growled reply. “Seriously, what’s with a pop quiz?”

Taylor frowns at you. “You made a phone call?”

You blink, realizing that your smartphone is in your hand. You quickly slip it into your back pocket. You and Taylor turn and join the between-classes river of students strolling down College Road.

“Don’t hate me, Tails,” you say, “but I actually thought the quiz was pretty easy.”

“Yeah, if you memorized all three thousand pages of the assigned reading.”

You say nonchalantly, “No, I honestly thought the questions were kinda obvious.”

The moment these words are out of your mouth, you expect Taylor to grumble or maybe even snap at you. Instead, she gives you a thoughtful expression.

“What?” you ask.

“You know,” muses Taylor, “last night, at the show, the hypnotist guy did something kinda weird.”

You don’t like the sound of this. All day long, fellow students who saw you up on that stage have been laughing whenever they spot you.

“So after all the funny parts of the hypnosis show were over,” Taylor recalls, “the hypno-guy said something like, ‘I want to reward all my volunteers up on stage. Especially our show’s rock star.’ And then he went straight to you.”

You tense. “Oh?” you say, trying to sound disinterested.

“Yeah. You were sitting in your chair, in a deep, deep sleep. You were out of it. And the hypno-guy put a hand on your shoulder, and he said, ‘To the young woman I’m not touching right now: Starting tomorrow, you will find that your mind is sharp and concentrating perfectly when it comes to your schoolwork. You will be a laser-focused brainiac. You will become supersmart.’ Or something like that.”

You are completely surprised. “And how did I react?” you want to know.

“You didn’t,” Taylor tells you. “You remained asleep. But it looked to me like you accepted his commands.”

…huh.

You kick at a pebble, reflecting that just this morning, you did crank out a completed ten-page paper on Neo-expressionism. It was like all you had to do was put your fingers on the computer keyboard, and the words just flowed to you. You’ve never written a paper so quickly or so effortlessly before.

“Maybe I shoulda gotten hypnotized,” Taylor says bitterly.

That evening, you’re back in your dorm, clocking through study preparations for next week’s exam on 19th century French lit. Your roommate, Chloe, is out, and you’ve got the room to yourself.

Hmmmmm, French Lit. You survey your notes. Let’s see…

Romanticism vs Realism? Pfft. You know that cold. You can tick through the five great contributions of Hugo, Balzac, Flaubert, Zola. You can rattle off the names of the Symbolist poets like Verlaine, Baudelaire, Rimbaud. You have actually run out of material to review.

Weird. Last week, you were freaking out about this exam. Now? You can’t fathom why it seemed scary.

You idly glance at your desk clock. You notice that its 9PM.

And then… your thoughts sink into a fog.

You are relaxed. You feel serene, peaceful. Its like you’ve been meditating for an hour. Nothing bothers you. All the stress in your life has somehow evaporated.

You stand, leaving your open notebook and computer running. You walk to your dresser. Without really paying attention to what you’re doing, you’re pulling off your tee shirt, then wriggling out of your sweatpants, then peeling off your socks. Into the laundry hamper they all go. You unclip your bra and then your underwear is also being discarded. Now you’re totally naked.

You open your dresser drawer, not really looking for anything in particular. On their own, your fingers locate the lacy little bra and panty set, the naughty Victoria’s Secret pair that Kari and Olivia bought you for your birthday last year. You never wear them, because… well, you don’t have a boyfriend. But tonight, that doesn’t matter. You slip them on, pleased with how the bra pushes your boobs together.

Next, you sleepwalk to your closet, quickly going through your dresses. Why do you only have fat girl outfits? You make a mental note to switch it up, the next time you can borrow dad’s credit card.

Wait, you almost forgot: You do have a Slut Dress.

It must be said, you hate hate hate hate the term “Slut Dress.” The nomenclature didn’t come from you. Who christened the dress? Was it Kari? Probably Kari. It sounds like something she’d say.

The dress is sleeveless, has a short skirt, and hugs your curvy butt a little too tightly. The one time you dared to wear it on campus—the Delta Gamma Summer Beer Bash—you got groped by no less than five drunken guys. Kari made you promise that you wouldn’t throw the dress away, and ever since, its been exiled to the back of your closet.

Until tonight. With a blink, you realize that you’ve already put the dress on, (!!!) and now you’re inspecting yourself in the room’s body mirror. Huh. You totally don’t remember squeezing into this, let alone squirming about like crazy to zip yourself up in the back. But there you are in the reflection, looking sexy and sleek. This dress and this bra really accentuate your cleavage. You pop.

Oddly, it pleases you that you look like… a call girl.

Before you know it, you’re stepping out of your Uber and onto the sidewalk. The driver gives you an odd look, then speeds off. You stand on the pavement, wearing a light coat over your dress. The passers-by stare at you.

Where are you? Oh. Right. You’re somewhere downtown, standing in front of a big hotel. The Hyatt Regency. Eh, why did you come here? You have no idea. In fact, you can’t even remember giving the Uber guy this address. Weird.

Now you find that you’re strolling across the Hyatt lobby, already heading towards the elevators. Its weird how your legs just seem to know where to take you. They are in control, and you simply allow them to take you wherever. You feel so clear-minded, so tranquil, so completely at peace. You haven’t a care or worry in the world. All seems wonderful. You feel relaxed.

You just knocked on a hotel room door.

Wow. You’re really spacing. You just rode up in the elevator, but do you remember stepping into the elevator car, selecting a floor, pushing a button, any of that? Nope. You’re moving about this hotel on automatic pilot.

The hotel room door opens before you.

You immediately step inside, gliding right past the person who opened the door for you. It’s dark in this room; the curtains are drawn. You squint, seeing a standard King bed, a couch, a small desk, a flatscreen mounted on the wall, and a tiny bathroom right by the entrance. The faint aroma of burnt incense is in the air. The temperature is hot.

The door closes behind you. The lock clicks.

“Can I take your coat?” a man asks.

You turn, and are surprised—but totally unsurprised—to see Chris Wrens approaching you. Chris Wrens! The stage hypnotist!

You stare. Chris is as you remember him: short / thin / boring haircut / good body / all-black clothes / cocky smirk.

Somehow, your foggy mind is now remembering… You were hypnotized and came up on stage for Chris’s show. He controlled your mind. He made you think that your shoe was a telephone. And that you were a dancer. And then, an astronaut, a mermaid, a private eye, a silly dinosaur… you hazily remember all of it. But its like thinking back through a vivid dream you once had… it doesn’t seem real.

Chris is supremely confident. He walks right up to you, standing almost toe-to-toe. You gaze into his eyes, unable to look away.

On their own, your hand gives him your coat. You don’t even remember taking it off! Chris accepts the coat, then carelessly tosses it aside.

He leans forward. He kisses you.

You don’t resist. You can’t resist! His lips are warm and strong and gentle and eager, all at the same time. His tongue touches yours, slipping into your mouth. You allow your eyes to slowly close as you feel yourself surrender to his potency.

Not breaking the kiss, Chris steps closer. Now you feel his body against yours. His hands come to rest on your hips. You tremble a little as his right hand slides up your back, his left descends to admire your butt cheek.

You moan, so softly.

The kiss is growing deeper. As Chris works his jaw, your teeth and his teeth clink together, just a little. You’re getting wet. This is the most erotic kiss you’ve had since… sex on prom night.

What are you doing??? From somewhere in the back of your mind, a tiny part of you is alarmed, even frightened. Its like you are under some irresistible spell, and you have no choice but to make love to this man. Your body is certainly responding. As Chris’s hand now glides over your breast, you can feel your nipples harden. Your vagina is so wet.

Chris lets the kiss die. He pulls back, just a little, then rasps, “You’re hot.”

“Yeah…” you breathe, feeling it.

He’s right. You are hot. You’ve never looked sexier, and goddamn, your body is so horny right now, you might jump Chris right where he stands. You could bone him right here on the carpet.

You feel a light sheen of perspiration forming on your exposed skin. Damn, the heat is cranked up! Your breathing is deep and greedy. Your heart is pounding like cannonfire. This is the sexiest thing you’ve ever done.

Feeling bold… and not quite in control of yourself… you step back from Chris. You hold his gaze. You move to the bed, kicking off your heels. (You wore your heels? You don’t even remember putting them on!) Then, with deliberate tease, you turn your back on Chris, squeezing your butt together.

“Unzip me?” you murmur.

Of course, you can squirm about and unzip yourself. You got into this dress on your own, didn’t you? But the contortions you’d need to perform would definitely kill the mood. Besides, you want to tempt Chris… before you fuck him.

That’s right, you are going to fuck Chris. You are gonna fuck him. Tonight. In this bed. Its going to happen. You didn’t exactly make the decision, but you’re fine with it. In fact, you want to fuck him. You want it.

Chris’s fingers appear on your back. You can hear him exhale as he guides your dress’s zipper downwards. He takes his time.

Good. You feel the Slut Dress relax about your body. You slip out of the sleeves, and now the little garment flutters down your legs. You feel the hot room air on your stomach and chest.

Chris isn’t done. Your bra tightens a little, then releases completely. He just unclipped you.

Well, you were planning on doing a sexy little dance to remove the bra for him, but you guess that’s off the schedule now. His loss. You shake your shoulders a little, and now the bra joins the Slut Dress down on the carpet.

You bend forward, sliding the panties down to your ankles. As you do, Chris cups both of your buttocks, lifting them a little. It excites you.

Jesus Christ, you’ve been in this hotel room, what, only three minutes, and already you’re totally starkers naked before this man? You haven’t even really met him! What the hell? Are you high or something?

No, you’re not high. Your brain is remarkably clear. You feel so peaceful. This is more like your thoughts have been turned off, and your will is being controlled by some strange, unknown force. You secretly like it.

You find yourself throwing back the bed’s thick comforter, exposing the white, starched bedsheets. Now you climb onto that bed, remaining on all fours, pointing your rear end at your lover. He grabs you by your ass, separating your cheeks with a gentle insistence. You feel the breath of air on your exposed vagina and butthole.

Oh God, you suddenly think in fear, is Chris an anal man? You can’t do anal. You don’t know what weird force has control of your mind, but you can’t do anal. You just can’t. No fucking way.

Chris leans forward, plugging his face between your buttocks. He licks, as hard as he can. You feel his tongue scrape over both your holes.

Oh God! You almost shriek aloud. The pleasure is so intense, your whole body felt a spasm of orgasmic joy. You nearly came on the spot! Goddamn!

(Seriously, you make a mental note about this for later. You liked having your anus licked! Who knew???)

Grunting softly, Chris laps you a few more times, causing you to squirm and wiggle. Your fingers are gripping the bedsheets so tightly, you might tear them down the middle. You have to kick one foot against the mattress to deal with the overload of sensation.

But then, your hypnotist lover releases you. “Turn around,” he demands, his voice low and raspy. “Face me.”

You must obey. You scurry about, now looking at Chris directly.

Your eyes meet and lock and instantly, your mind is a captive to his will. Chris’s gaze is so powerful! You feel nothing but surrender when he looks directly at you. You remember some old cheesy cartoons where the vampire would stare at a pretty young woman, mesmerizing her with his red eyes. You feel like that pretty young woman. You feel completely mesmerized.

As you are falling further under Chris’s spell, the hypnotist is unzipping his black trousers. He opens his fly, then gestures at you.

“Pleasure me,” he orders.

The desire is plain enough. You are to take out his dick and put him in your mouth.

You feel apprehensive, but must obey him. You must obey him. So you climb down off the bed, coming to kneel before your hypnotist. Your fingers are already lowering the elastic of his boxer short undies.

And there, popping out at you, is Chris’s erect cock. Its purple and swollen, and your nose can smell the potent, fresh sweat from his undercarriage. It arouses you. He’s dribbling from his tip. And his cum has this delightful stink to it.

You delicately take Chris’s manhood in your fingers, and allow them to slither up and down his shaft. As you work, you try to summon the courage to give him oral.

Chris’s baritone voice speaks, high above you. “When I snap my fingers,” he rumbles, “you are convinced that I have the biggest penis in the universe.”

Huh?

You hear a loud clicking, right by your ear.

Oh my God!!! Your eyes bulge. Chris’s manhood is ginormous! Jesus Christ! Its like he has a telephone pole between his legs. You’ve never seen a cock this thick… or long… or stiff… or powerful…! Seriously, you need a minute or two to pause and keep yourself from hyperventilating.

He wants you to put his monster in your mouth??? Is he insane???

“Go on,” moans Chris. His hands try to push your head forward.

Panic sets in. “I can’t!” you whimper.

“Eh?”

“I can’t,” you repeat, feeling awful. You want so much to obey, but…!

“Why not?” demands Chris.

“I…” You’ve gotta tell him the truth. “I’ve never been able to give blow jobs,” you confess, blushing like crazy. “Like, never! Whenever I tried with boyfriends, I would gag. I always gag! It always happens, always! I’m sorry!” you add quickly.

“Oh,” says Chris, and now he doesn’t sound so upset. “Look at me.”

You gaze upwards, looking past the massive cock.

Chris’s eyes capture yours, and you feel paralyzed and helpless again.

“When I snap my fingers,” Chris tells you, his voice coursing with authority, “you can freely give blow jobs. You love giving blow jobs. You are the best blow-job-giver in the world. You will utterly believe this, now.”

His fingers click.

You feel the barest moment of disorientation. What just happened…?

Eh, who cares. Oh shit, lookit this enormous cock! It looks delicious!

With your considerable skill, you seize the penis and then swallow the tip. Its course and salty and you can taste the little bit of sweet dribble on the end. Mmmm! So good.

This is easy! Giving blow jobs is easy! Why did you think this was hard, again? Eh, doesn’t matter.

Fearless and confident, you begin sucking away. In seconds, Chris is coated in your spit, and now the work of guiding him in and out and in and out and in and out and in and out is frictionless. Oh man, does he taste good! Thank God you’re an expert blow-job-giver. You were born to do this.

Chris gasps and clutches your hair tightly. You sense his body relax as he leans into you.

Now you’ve got a great rhythm going. Chris’s dick is flying between your lips like it was born to be there. You can feel him getting stiffer! And hotter! And he’s trembling! He’s gonna-

“I wanna cum inside you!” Chris announces. “Inside you! On the bed!”

In a flash, both of you leap into action. You spring off the floor and vault onto the King mattress. In a twinkling, you’re lying on your back, your legs high in the air. Okay, sure, this pose isn’t the most ladylike, but fuck it! You’re in heat! You gotta fuck your man! It’s a medical situation now. You stroke yourself, and are delighted to find that your womanly parts are gooey and sooooo ready. The air smells of sex.

Chris tries to yank off his trousers, both legs at the same time! He manages it! Wow. By a sheer miracle, he doesn’t collapse and crash to the floor. Maybe he was a gymnast?

There’s no time to contemplate acrobatics right now. Chris has pounced onto the bed, and he’s scrambling to get on top of you. He’s still wearing his black shirt and socks, but hell, he’s naked from hips to ankles. As he positions himself, you feel that monster cock poke you a few times.

“Fuck!” the hypnotist mutters. “Condom!”

There’s a condom on the bedside table. You both grab at it, racing against time to tear open the wrapper and put the latex on Chris’s cock, before the moment’s lost.

There. He’s sheathed. You can fuck freely now.

“Lookit me,” Chris growls, directly above you.

You look up. Your gaze is swallowed by his powerful eyes, and instantly, you are a slave to his will. You’re hypnotized.

“Now,” your master tells you, “we’re gonna fuck. And you’re gonna wanna cum. You’re gonna wanna cum so badly! But you can’t cum. You can’t cum, no matter how badly you want to. No matter how hard I fuck you and how much you want it you can’t cum.

“That is, you can’t cum until I let you cum. You can only cum when I snap my fingers and tell you ‘cum now!’ Only when I snap my fingers and tell you ‘cum now!’ will you be able to cum. Until then, your pussy cannot cum.”

You listen, amazed. Does Chris have that kind of power over you???

The young hypnotist grunts once, then thrusts forward.

OH GOD!!! You feel that gigantic penis ram deep inside of you, and your whole body almost explodes on contact! The sheer wonderfulness of it!!! You reel as your vagina sings like a soprano. You lose all control of yourself.

Now Chris is fucking you with abandon, each shove of his hips revving your delight to higher and higher peaks. Oh shit!!! Your bones seem to be rattling. You thrash your head about, your eyes screwed tightly shut, and your whole body squirms. You try to hold onto Chris’s back, but there’s too much motion at play here.

On its own, your husky voice is speaking in absolute, wild, crazy nonsense: “Oh fuck, master, I’m your hypnotized slave girl, fuck me master, I love your fucking cock, make me cum master, I want to resist you but I can’t, I’m your slave, I’ll do whatever you want, I’ll suck your cock, I’ll fuck you any way you want, please master, make me cum, I’m your slave girl…!”

Where the hell is that bullshit coming from??? You have no idea.

Chris, meanwhile, is puffing like an out-of-control steam locomotive. You can feel his sweaty back under your hands, and his musk overpowers your nose. His whole body vibrates like a tuning fork. He’s grunting like a pig. His thrusts are becoming wilder, harder, rougher, more insistent-

Suddenly, Chris’s back becomes ramrod straight. His eyes bulge, and you feel a massive spasm of energy course through him from head to toe. His cock grows warm. He’s climaxing.

“Oh shit!” your master cries. “Shit! CUM NOW!!!”

And with that…

…its like the Tsunami of All Orgasms erupts from your vagina. Your whole body is racked with too much delight, as you gush with joy and fluid. You feel rainbows, sparkles, fireworks, angels singing, the heavens opening up to you! Every muscle you have is jolted by a billion gazillion terramegagigaquads of sexual energy! Its… Its… Its…!

You wordlessly scream in pure, perfect delight. The world stands perfectly still as you experience the best orgasm of your whole life.