The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Brian Masters didn’t choose Samarinda to spend his days in. Being an ambitious man working in the oil industry, where he ended up getting posted wasn’t really his choice. He went where his career took him and in his case, he had ended up being posted on the island of Borneo in Indonesia. Brian isn’t exactly what you’d call a worldly man, and he gave little time or thought to the vibrant culture he found himself in; so different from his native Britain. For Brain, the city of Samarinda may have well have been only the Western neighbourhood he lived in and the Western offices he worked in.

Today was a rare exception to his gated life however, as Brian had found himself led far away from his usual high-end restaurants and posh neighbourhoods by his friend into a busy café in the busy centre of the city. The coffee and cake was good, Brian thought to himself, but not exactly good enough to make such a trip for. Brian zoned out while his friend, sitting in front of him, chatted about this and that, Brian didn’t like talking about work outside of his office and Brian just sat there pretending to listen until he was brought back to reality when his friend’s phone rang. His friend took one look at who was calling before saying:

“Oh shit, sorry Brian I gotta go.”

And before Brian could get a word in, his friend had rushed out the café, phone in hand. Brian sighed and took another sip of his coffee. Now with his friend out of his way, he could get a much better look at the front of the café. Sitting at the window, her back facing to Brian was a woman wearing a white hijab. Brian looked at her body, even with the limited view he had of her, he could instantly tell she was a beauty. Brian never really had an interest in the local women, and he often looked on in disgust as his friend dated much younger women who clearly only cared for their money. But Brian found his attention drawn in by this woman, his eyes falling down her body. Down her torso wearing a blue shirt, down her cute butt, encased in a tight white skirt that matched her hijab, down her bare shapely brown legs, and right onto her small delicate feet, dangling a pair of thick black Asian-style flip-flops. Brian understood why many people wore flip-flops in Indonesia, or why people preferred to go entirely barefoot but he himself hated them and loathed to expose his pale British feet in any context.

For some reason, once his eyes reached her small brown feet, he couldn’t look away. He drank in every little detail, her shapely heel, he perfectly manicured cute little toes. Brian had never been attracted to feet before but he suddenly found himself becoming… erect? His jeans strained painfully as his member stood to attention under allure of his mystery woman’s gorgeous feet. Brian found himself fixated, his mind occupied by this women with all else falling away. It wasn’t until the women began to leave that he started to return to reality. That was until she turned around and looked directly at him, her deep brown eyes piecing straight through him. She grinned, winked and this strutted out of the café, the tapping of flip-flops on the ground following her as she went.

Brian gave himself a few moments to collect himself, before rushing out of the café, trying best not to reveal the erection straining against his pants.

Session 1

Brian rushed straight home, his erection surviving the entire taxi ride home. He got in, practically throwing his bag and keys across the room in his rush. He rushed into his bathroom, ripping his trousers and pants off, so he could get to his pulsing erection, he grabbed hold of it and began to try and soothe the strain. It didn’t take more than a few pumps for his orgasm to explode out, cum spraying out across the bathroom. He fell back, breathing deeply: he didn’t know what had just happened but he knew that he to see that woman again…

Every day after work for the next week, he went to the café searching for the woman. Day after day he’d buy a coffee and sit waiting to see if she came in, only leaving as the café closed. On the weekend, not having to work, he entered the café as it opened, much to the amusement of the staff and proceeded to buy a coffee and wait. He had almost given up hope as the café neared closing but then he saw them enter the cafe. Thick black Asian flip-flops, moving up and down against the shapely heel of those majestic feet. His cock stood to attention as his eyes followed her body. This time she wore a tight black skirt and matching black hijab. His eyes met her face, she had strong Malay features, and he couldn’t help thinking that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She walked straight up to him and sat down opposite him. She smiled before speaking in a strong Indonesian accent:

“Follow me Bule.”

She then stood up and walked out the café. Brian, without even thinking about, shot up and followed her without giving even the slightest thought to disguising his pressing erection. The woman waited for Brian to leave the shop, then led on at a quick pace. Brian found himself watching the motion of her flip-flops rising and falling off the ground as they went. The lady led him on for about twenty minutes before making a sharp turn and leading him to a row of apartment buildings. They entered one of the buildings and came to the lifts before stopping. Without turning around to look at him:

“You are permitted to use the stairs only. Knock first, flat number 18. I will let you in when I am ready.”

And with that she stepped into one of the lifts, the doors closing behind her. The lift then made a rumbling sound as it prepared its ascent. In any other context Brian would have refused to be treated this way, at the very least he would have got angry with his treatment. But he couldn’t bring himself to react in any way but obedience. Brian quickly began his climb, as it turned out, a total of 15 flights of stairs. Flat number 18 was the first door Brian came to on this floor. With little hesitation, Brian knocked on the door and stood waiting for his signal to come in, his erection having not got any less intense. After around half an hour of standing, the woman’s voice came through the door calling him to enter.

The room he found himself in was the flat’s living room. The woman had dimmed the lights but it was clear the room was lavishly decorated, with expensive furnishings and expensive electronics littering the room. The woman sat on a tall leather sofa in the centre of the room, her legs crossed: she had changed into an elegant black dress, her feet now clad in black flats. She wore no hijab, her silky black hair flowing down her shoulders. She silently pointed at the ground in front of her, looking expectantly at Brian. He didn’t have any problem understanding what she wanted, and moved to the spot she presented. He then kneeled in front of her, his shoulders were about level with her knees. She gently placed her feet on his shoulders. Brian almost came in his pants at that very moment, his hand lustfully and instinct fully grabbing at her shoes.

“Bule, hands on lap!” She snapped at him and he found his hands shooting down to his lap. His eyes found themselves looking at the ground, like a scolded schoolboy. She continued:

“You are Bule, only a stupid Bule. Yes?” Brian didn’t know whether he was expected to respond and continued to look down.

“I asked you. Are you stupid Bule?” She snapped again

“Y-Yes…” Brian replied meekly.

“Look at me when speaking” He meekly looked up and struggled to hold gaze with her brilliant brown eyes.

“Y-Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I am a stupid Bule”

“Good. Here you are only Bule. I am Ibu Pria. You like my feet yes?

“Yes”

“Yes who?”

“Yes Ibu Pria”

“You want to feel my feet, yes?”

“Yes Ibu Pria”

“You want to smell and taste my feet”

“Yes Ibu Pria”

“I will let you do that all but I warn you, you must agree to do anything I say to do and believe anything I tell you to believe” Brian, hesitated and looked down at the floor again. What exactly could she want him to do, will she want his money? Pria, sensing the slight hesitation pulled her left shoe off, so Brian could now feel the soft weight of her bare sole on his shoulder. Brian looked up into Pria’s eyes, his hesitation melting from his mind.

“Yes Ibu Pria”

“My feet have power over men see? You will have no choice to obey me, I will become your reality. Do you understand?”

“Yes Ibu Pria”

“Very well Bule, do as you like” It was as though Brian was suddenly possessed, his body moving a frantic and lustful motion. He pulled the shoe of the right foot and sniffed the inside before discarding it and pulling both her soles to his face, sucking and licking frantically. As he did this, he found his mind drifting, as though he was mind was floating out of his body. A deep trance fell across him, yet his body continued to move on its own. Licking and sucking, his cock exploding in pants doing nothing towards ceasing his lustful motions. Pria watched him on, his devotion to her feet pleasing her. It was then she began her programming:

“Bule you will not be conscious of all I teach you today. You will not remember what I tell you, but you will follow all my commands. I know your type, the selfish Bule who treats Indonesia as mere money bag. From today that changes.”

“You will find yourself very interested in Indonesia, you will want to learn about the culture and you will begin to learn Bahasa. You will dedicate all your time to this, your job will become unimportant”

“From today, you love Indonesia. It is your passion.”

“I expect you to come back here, the same time and the same day, every two weeks for another session with me Bule”

“Do you understand everything?”

Brian tried to reply but her toes were in his mouth: “Mmmmphh.”

“Enough!” She snapped at him, placing her feet on the ground. “Do you understand”

“Yes Ibu Pria”

“I want you to leave this flat now, and leave this building. The moment you step out of here, you will forget everything that happened today, you will forget everything about me. Only the commands will stay. In two weeks, you will find yourself drawn back her for your next session. Do you understand”

“Yes Ibu Pria”

“Then go.”

And with that, he began walking out of the building, still in trance. The moment he stepped outside, the fog on his mind cleared and he found himself in an unknown location, at an unknown time, with a wet patch across his jeans.

Session 2

Brian didn’t know why but he was suddenly finding that Samarinda wasn’t such a bad place after all. Wherever he looked, he found interesting things to explore. He found himself dipping into stores to look at the products and going to different restaurants to try all the different foods. The food was nearly always delicious, maybe even better than the standard British fare he was eating in the Western-style restaurants. Brain rapidly found himself transitioning to only eating this Indonesian food, with Brian even finding himself stopping at the street food stands and eating some of the food there, something he would never had done before. He always found that the food was nearly always delicious.

Quickly, a hurdle started to present itself. Language. Brian was limited in what he could do and try, when not being able to speak the language. So, Brian decided to take up on what he had always resisted: learning the local language.

He dedicated nearly all his time to this endeavour. Picking up phrases and words and trying to apply them in the world at large to practice. Brian wasn’t sure he had ever been so motivated before, he found himself secretly practising or looking up new words at work. This, alongside, his extra-long lunches and breaks from work to explore the city started to cause gossip and eventually discussions at work but Brian just couldn’t bring himself to care. Work wasn’t nearly as important as his new-found love of Indonesia. With such dedication to the learning, Brian was finding himself quickly able to make small conversations in the restaurants he went to, or with the shop keepers he purchased interesting items of. Within almost two weeks, he had progressed much further that many would do in a year.

As two-weeks passed from his session with Pria, Brian found himself waking up in a state of extreme arousal. Images in his head started to fill up of a pair of feet, an apartment building, a flat… No matter how much Brian tried to shake the feeling, and no matter how he tried to soothe the pressure from his member he couldn’t stop his mind filling with thoughts of those feet, that apartment building, that flat. He found himself travelling to find the place he saw in his mind. Before long, he had found himself at the door of flat number 18. Not knowing exactly what to expect, he found himself knocking on the door.

It took a while for any response, it seems that the person knew when he started to doubt because the moment he did, a voice called for him to come in. He opened the door to find an oddly familiar living room, sitting on an oddly familiar tall sofa was the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Or had he seen her before? She wore a shirt and jeans, her feet barefoot. He found himself fixated on the feet, the same feet that had invaded his mind since he woke up. Brian wanted to speak but he couldn’t bring himself to, instead his body seemed to move on its own volition, bringing Brian to in front of the sofa and kneeling him down, hands in his lap, his head looking at the ground. The woman smiled and placed her bare feet on his shoulder, simply commanding:

“Remember.”

And with that everything came back to Brian, other than the exact specifics of what Pria commanded of him in trance.

“Ibu Pria…”

“Ya”

“You made me forg…”

“Bule, kamu harus berbahasa Indonesia! (Bule, you must speak Indonesian!)” she snapped at him, and instantly he started putting his new skills into use

“Kamu membuat Aku…”

“Kamu!? Aku!?” She snapped at him again.

“Anda membuat Saya melupakan Anda? (You made me forget you?)

“Bagus! Kamu belajar keras. (Good! You studied hard.)” “Tapi, Anda bisa berbicara bahasa Inggris lagi. (But I will let you speak English again.)”

“Thank you Ibu Pria”

Pria moved her left foot and placed her big toe against Brian’s mouth. “Lets waste no time in starting todays lesson Bule.” And once against the fog began to enter Brian’s mind as his body began to worship her feet frantically. Her words seemed to piece into his soul as she spoke:

“Bule, you have done well. But we have a lot to get done before you next session with me in two weeks’ time. Just like before, you will not be conscious of all I teach you today. You will not remember what I tell you, but you will follow all my commands.”

“Your desire to learn Bahasa and learn about Indonesian culture will grow twice as strong. In fact, you will be so desperate to cram this knowledge into your brain that you will push your old knowledge out. For every Indonesian word you learn, you will forget an English one, for every cultural train you pick up, your old way will become foreign to you.”

“Let me give you your first of your new information Bule, your name. You are now Bambang Soekotjo, whatever your old name was is gone. You are only Bambang Soekotjo.

“When you leave this place today, you will find yourself in the presence of a friend of mine. She will be the first person other than me to call you by your new name. You will listen to her as though I am speaking, you will do everything she says”

“But know this Bambang, you will be changing your filthy Bule ways. Your old life is gone and my friend will lead you to your new life.”

After this, she pulled her feet away from Bambang and commanded:

“Meninggalkan (Leave)!”

Just as before, as he stepped from the building. He forgot everything.

Session 3

Bambang found himself next to a random apartment block, he had no idea what had just happened but found himself again with a large wet spot on his trousers. He was just about how this has happened when he heard someone call out to him:

“Halo!”

Bambang turned to see an older woman, perhaps in her forties. She had the withered look of someone who had worked hard their whole life, her face seemed to settle in a stern form.

“Bambang?” As she said his name, something clicked in his head, like he recognised this woman, even though he had never seen her before. He suddenly felt ready to listen to orders, like a worker being addressed by his manager.

“Nama Saya Dewi, apa kabar? (I am Dewi, how are you?).”

“Saya baik, dan Anda? (I am well, and you?)”

“Saya baik. Silakan ikuti saya.” Dewi then started walking away. Bambang didn’t know what she meant by that and asked after her:

“Maaf tapi Saya don’t understand. (Sorry but I don’t understand.)” Dewi turned back, looking annoyed

“Anda tidak mengerti? (You don’t understand?)” She then spoke with an incredibly think Indonesian accent in English before repeating the Bahasa version “You follow me… Anda ikuti Saya (You follow me),” and with this, she again started walking away. Bambang nodded in agreement and followed, while in his mind he forgot “understand” for “mengerti” and “follow” for “ikuti.”

Dewi got into a car and Bambang followed, the two drove out of Samarinda and continued to drive hours into the country, during this time Dewi continue to teach Bambang Indonesian by the same method as earlier, which Bambang instantly forgetting the English equivalent. They arrived in a small village an two hours away from Samarinda and Dewi led Bambang to a small shanty-like house. In Indonesian she said

“You live here now,”

Bambang might have protested, but he could only accept what Dewi was saying. “Okay,” he replied in Indonesian.

She explained, occasionally stopping to teach Bambang the needed Indonesian, that the house was occupied by 5 other men. All the occupants, including Bambang, now worked at her cleaning company. In the morning a van would come pick them up and take them to their jobs for the day. After explaining this to him, she had Bambang strip and took his clothes, replacing them with much cheaper stuff befitting his new class in life (cargo shorts, loose t-shirt and some cheap pants). She also replaced his shoes with flip-flops (his hatred of them gone). She explained that all that he needs should already be in the building, but she would do him a favour. She grabbed his old wallet and from the large sums of money in there, gave back 70,000 rupiah (6 dollars) for him to use as he felt fit.

Soon he met his fellow tenants/colleagues and got settled into his new life. They didn’t seem to care about the fact that a white person was living with them, and Dewi had told them to be quiet about it, or else. So, they helped him without question, getting him to learn new words and phrases (and inevitably making him forget more English), as well as introducing him to new cultural activities and foods (pushing out his old cultural ways). The two weeks passed quickly will all the work he was doing and before he knew it he was awoken up very early one morning, completely aroused. In his mind flashed three things, sexy feet, apartment block, flat 18 (Kaki seksi, blok apartemen, apartemen nomor 18) and nothing he did could sooth the ache. Bambang rushed out to get the early morning bus to Samarinda to find this place that was disturbing his mind. Before long, he had found himself at the door of flat number 18. Not knowing that this was in fact the third time he had done this, he found himself knocking on the door without knowing what to expect.

It took a while for any response, but he found himself politely waiting expectantly for it just the same. “Silahkan masuk! (please come in!)” came from inside the flat. He opened the door to find an oddly familiar living room, sitting on an oddly familiar tall sofa was the most beautiful women he had ever seen (little did he know this was the third time seeing her this way.) She was wearing the same thing she had when they first met, minus the hijab, a blue shirt, a white skirt and her feet clad in the same thick black flip-flops. He found himself fixated on the feet which had been in his mind since he woke up. His body seemed to move on its own volition as he kneeled in front of her, hands in his lap, head down. The woman discarded her flip-flops and placed her bare feet on his shoulders, simply commanding:

“Remember!” Bambang heard this but did to not react at all. She laughed, before commanding again:

“Mengingat! (Remember!)” And then it all came back to Bambang, or at the very least who exactly this woman was. The rest of his life was a little hazy otherwise.

“Ibu Pria!”

“Ya.” She laughed, while shoving her left foot onto his face. She spoke in Indonesian

“You are making great progress, Bule. Or maybe not such a Bule anymore.”

“Let’s begin straight away, you may worship” And with that Bambang body began licking and sucking, while his mind once again drifted away into a deep trance. Pria’s words seemingly having a direct line into the very being of his soul.”

“This is our last session, after you leave you will forget me and never again feel the need to come back here”

“Dewi spoke highly of your work ethic, I guess you are finally working a real job now Bule. As a reward for this, you will no longer be a Bule at all. You are now Indonesian and you will be pleased to know that Dewi has got together all your needed documents for this. Your passport, your ID, your driver’s license.”

“You will forget all the remaining English you know, I feel that your Bahasa has come got far enough where you don’t need it. Your old life will begin to drift into being like a dream to you. From now on your old country is as foreign to you as China or India.”

“As you know, all Indonesian IDs carry a religion on them. Islam is the truth of course, so you are listed as such. When you leave, you will make sure to make yourself known at your local mosque and learn all about your new deeply, deeply held convictions” And with this, she pulled her feet away and commanded:

“Meninggalkan (Leave)!”

Bambang did so in his trance just as before, as soon as he stepped out the building he forgot everything about Pria. Finding himself in the middle of Samarinda, with a big wet patch on his cargo shorts. Bambang, finding himself like this for the third time, wondered to himself whether he should get his head looked at (yeah right, like he could afford a doctor for that he thought). He decided to head straight to his home village to get his clothes cleaned and prepare for the week ahead.

Epilogue

Bambang Soekotjo was an odd sight in his village. Many people spoke of the “Bule with the Indonesian heart” and how odd it was to see a white man living as he does and working as he does. But by this point, Bambang had become well established in the village since his arrival two years ago. His passionate time spent at the Mosque, the negative way he spoke of the Barat (the West), and the natural way he acted within the local society had quickly stopped any doubts about the man. So, what if he looked like a white man? He clearly was an Indonesian: after all, isn’t Indonesia a nation of many ethnic groups?

Having been accepted, it hadn’t taken long for him to marry. His bride being a homely local girl, herself dedicated at the local mosque and being one who had viewed the dedication of this white man in their local community with awe. Their first child was quick to arrive, with another due soon. The only time her husband’s appearance had caused an issue for her was when some Bule thought they recognised Bambang, and they started shouting English at him. It took quite a long time for them to give up on poor Bambang. As it stand, the happy couple was just that, happy and well-loved within the local community.