The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Dr. Kara Pendleton awoke in the dark. Something was wrong.

Carefully pulling aside the blankets over her nude form, she got out of bed. A robe hung on a nearby hook; she slipped it on and belted it shut before moving silently to her bedroom door and carefully, carefully opening it, just enough at first to let her peek out, then wider.

On the first floor of her expensive duplex apartment, someone was moving around, shining a flashlight around rather than turning on any of the lights. Moving slowly and silently, the doctor slipped out of her room, making sure to remain hidden from her mystery visitor behind the wall extending from the bedroom doorway to the railing of the stairwell connecting the two floors of her expensive duplex apartment. She peered down through the gloom, watching, and as she did, she began to smile.

Chas grinned. This place was loaded with goodies!

The hard part would be deciding what to take. The flatscreen TV was out—too big. So was the computer, for the same reason. Too bad the rich lady shrink who lived here didn’t seem to have a laptop lying handily about.

That didn’t matter, though. There were sure to be other, more portable assets he could pick up.

With the ease of practice, the thief began rummaging through drawers and closets. A pair of intricate silver candlesticks went into his booty bag, followed by several expensive-looking cylinders he recognized after a moment as cigarette holders. Who does she think she is, some 1940s movie star? Chas thought. Who uses those anymore? Well, it didn’t matter. If they were worth as much as they looked to be, that was all he cared about.

It was too much to ask for that she’d have actual money stashed here, or credit cards either. Those would be upstairs. Chas had spent several weeks casing this condominium complex, first to get the lay of the land and pick his target and then to work out just how to work things. He’d settled on this Dr. Pendleton because she lived alone, with few visitors, in one of the fanciest apartments in the complex. She obviously had serious money, and if worse came to worst and she woke up and caught him, he was confident he could handle her. After all, he was a guy. And besides, he had a gun. If he had to, he could pull it on her. What was she going to do, kick it out of his hand like one of Charlie’s Angels?

Chas moved into the kitchen area, where he found a set of genuine silverware casually tucked into a utensil drawer next to the stove. Into his bag it all went. At this rate, he thought, he might not even have to go upstairs. Sure, the actual cash and the plastic were probably up there—they sure didn’t seem to be down here!—but going after them upped the risk factor. Yeah, he could handle the lady doctor, but why push things? If something went sour later and the cops got him, why risk adding an assault charge to B-and-E and grand larceny?

On the other hand . . . ! Chas grinned wider. He’d gotten a look or two at the doctor while he was casing her place. The idea of “handling” her had its attractions. Exiting the kitchen, he headed for the winding staircase.

Kara Pendleton chuckled softly. From her vantage point, she could see well enough even in the unlit apartment to make out the intruder rifling through her things—well enough to make it clear he was probably barely out of his teens, if that. So some young thug thought he could just break in here and steal from her, did he? She could just imagine him thinking, Even if she catches me, what’s she gonna do about it?

He’d find out. Not that he’d remember it afterwards, of course. One had one’s reputation to consider, after all.

Retreating to her bedroom, she prepared herself.

Chas moved up the stairs with a catlike tread, careful to make no sound. It would be safest for him if he could be in and out without any sort of confrontation. If the lady doctor were a heavy enough sleeper, he could go through her things, collect anything valuable and be gone before she even knew what had happened. Then there were some people he knew who could pay him for any ID’s or bank cards he snagged, and others who’d do the same for the silver knickknacks he’d picked up. And any cash, well, cash was cash.

The young burglar padded down the hall. The door at the end was slightly ajar. There was about a fifty-fifty chance it was the doctor’s bedroom, the alternative being the bathroom. Chas peeked cautiously around the door into the darkness beyond. Bedroom. He slipped the door just enough further open to let him slide inside.

A lump under the covers was evidently the doctor. It didn’t stir as Chas rifled the small bedside cabinet, inside of which he found an assortment of expensive-looking trinkets and a small stash of cash, about two hundred dollars. All of it went into his bag.

Suddenly the room’s overhead light came on. “Shit!” Chas burst out, dropping his swag sack.

“Just what do you think you’re doing, young man?” The voice, sounding amused, came from a few feet away, where Kara had positioned herself behind the half-opened door after stuffing some extra bedding beneath her sheets and pillows to make it appear, in the darkness, that she lay there asleep. The therapist stepped away from the pull cord she’d used to turn on the light and stood, hands on hips, smiling. She was dressed in a rich red silk robe and five-inch heels, her eyes hidden behind green-tinted cat’s-eye glasses, a necklace looped around her neck and disappearing into the generous cleavage revealed by the robe’s neckline; she looked more as if she’d been about to go out on a date than like a woman just roused from bed.

“Now just wait a minute, lady,” Chas warned, reaching inside his jacket. A moment later his hand emerged, clutching a small, cheap-looking revolver. “I’ve got a gun, see? So just do what I say if you don’t wanna get hurt. No funny stuff.”

Kara Pendleton threw back her head and laughed. “No funny stuff!” she repeated a moment later. “Does anyone really talk that way anymore? Someone’s been watching too many old gangster movies.”

Chas felt himself turning red. The crazy bitch was laughing at him! “Shut up,” he snarled. “Just shut up and hand over your valuables, lady. I know you’ve gotta have more than I’ve found. Credit cards, better jewelry than this stuff”—he gestured at the bag strapped over his shoulder—“whatever. Come on, I ain’t got forever. Just cough it up, no tricks, and nobody bleeds.”

“All right,” the doctor answered, unperturbed. She reached toward her throat and gently lifted off the necklace she was wearing. “We can start with this, I suppose.” She held it out, gently twirling the string of diamond beads. “Is this the sort of thing you’re looking for?”

Chas’s eyes widened. “Holy shit,” he gasped. “It sure is! That thing’s gotta be worth a fortune!”

“Well, yes,” Kara said. “Not just for the jewels, you understand. The craftsmanship is at least as important. See how it catches the light?” She smiled. “It catches the light and splits it into rainbow bursts of color, flashing rainbows of color. Even when I’ve got it around my neck, it will catch the eye, draw the eye to it and to my bustline, catch the eye and hold it. And when I spin it from my hand, as I’m doing now, it’s even more eye-catching, isn’t it?”

“Y-yeah,” Chas muttered. “Eye-catching.” His eyes tracked the motion of the jewels, around and around. It seemed to make a spiral of light which pulled at his vision. The gun wavered, ever so slightly.

Kara’s smile widened. She knew the signs. The young tough in front of her was beginning to slip into a hypnotic trance, just as she’d intended. Very soon, he’d be helpless to disobey any suggestion—any suggestion—she might choose to give him.

It wasn’t, after all, as though he’d be the first. Dr. Kara Pendleton was a respected hypnotherapist with an official income in six figures. What only a very few people knew was that she had a considerably larger unofficial income derived from using her hypnotic skills to solve the sorts of problems for which people did not ordinarily see a psychiatrist. She had aided more than one industrial firm by extracting secrets from employees of a competitor. She had derailed the prosecution of a major tobacco lawsuit by arranging for the chief prosecution witness to regress into a drooling infant on the stand. She had even ventured into politics, derailing a promising presidential prospect by seeing to it he was caught in flagrante with a woman not his wife; under her hypnotic spell, he had actually made the phone call which tipped off the press to his rendezvous, and then, of course, forgotten all about doing so.

What even fewer people knew was that she took a special extra commission in such cases, and sometimes from her legitimate clients as well.

It was received wisdom that one couldn’t hypnotize people to do anything they wouldn’t normally be willing to do. Like a lot of such wisdom, it wasn’t quite true. There was resistance, certainly, to any suggestion which ran counter to a person’s natural inclinations—but it was possible to work around that. The most respectable of women could be persuaded to strip in a sleazy bar if, deep in trance, she believed she were merely dreaming, or acting out a fantasy in her own bedroom. And more of interest to Kara, the most straitlaced of men could be turned into mindless, eager studs by similar trickery.

And they were. Kara chuckled. One of her favorites was a colleague, Dr. Thomas Wissner, who had called her practice a fraud because, so he insisted, there was no such thing as hypnosis. She’d proved him wrong—and every time he came back to town on his lecture circuit, she proved it again. Not that he remembered, of course. That was half the fun. Every time, he thought he was challenging her for the first time—and every time, he ended up as writhing, eager flesh completely at her command, deep, deep in the sort of trance he insisted wasn’t possible.

Something was wrong, Chas thought. He was supposed to be doing something, wasn’t he? But the light from overhead was bouncing brilliantly off the necklace twirling lazily in the outstretched hand of the blonde babe in front of him. Bouncing and flashing in rainbow colors that seemed to fill more and more of his vision. The flashes were so bright they almost hurt his eyes. He should look away, shouldn’t he? But it was easier to keep looking, keep following the motion of the necklace with his eyes, even though his eyelids were getting heavier and heavier.

So was the gun. It felt like a log in his hand now. But he needed it, didn’t he, for . . . something. He had to keep holding it, even though it was getting heavier and heavier. “Heavier and heavier,” the young thief mumbled. The gun wavered as his grip on it loosened.

“That’s right,” Kara coaxed. “Heavier and heavier. You’re fascinated by the flashing lights from my necklace as it moves around and around, catching the light, spinning, whirling, tiring your eyes but holding them, drawing them around and around, in and in, as they grow more and more tired, heavier and heavier. You want to rest your eyes now, don’t you. You want to close them, just for a second.”

“Just for . . . a second.” Chas heard his own voice echoing the words as if from very far away. He was vaguely aware that the gun in his hand was drooping loosely now. He really should tighten his grip, he thought. In a second or two.

“It’s all right,” purred Dr. Pendleton. “Everything is all right. It’s perfectly safe for you to close your eyes, to just let go, relax and close your eyes, just for a moment. You’re so tired, your eyelids are so heavy, and you’re perfectly safe, I’m just a woman after all and you’ve got a gun, it’s perfectly safe to relax and let go and close your eyes. . . .” The doctor went on, repeating the same soothing message. “Just Let go. Just relax. So-o-o heavy. . . .” On and on the honey-haired hypnotist went, guiding her intended robber deeper and deeper into relaxed receptivity.

Chas sighed and let his eyes close. It felt so good. He heard a thump, and something far, far back in his mind realized he’d dropped his gun onto the doctor’s bedroom carpet. He’d pick it up in a minute, he thought. In a minute. Just a minute. . . . He sighed again, relaxing further.

Kara Pendleton nodded in satisfaction. Her young home invader was under now, completely relaxed and open to her. She stooped and retrieved his handgun from where he’d let it fall and quickly stashed it in her bedside drawer. The weapon had been only as dangerous as its owner, who now stood with his arms hanging loosely at his sides, his head slightly bowed and his eyes closed, aware of nothing but her voice.

“Can you hear me, young man?” she asked. “My name is Dr. Kara Pendleton. Say ‘Yes, Dr. Pendleton’ if you can hear me.”

“Yes, Dr. Pendleton,” came the reply, little more than a whisper.

“That’s right,” the therapist said. “Now, young man, what’s your name? Tell me your name.”

“Chas,” the response came after a moment.

“Your name is Chas?” The doctor’s tone was skeptical. “Tell me your name, Chas. Your full name.” A bit of inspiration: “You can trust me, Chas. I’m a doctor. Tell me your full name.”

“Carlo,” Chas answered after a moment. “Carlo Guiseppe Torini.” He spoke the words as if they tasted bad. “But everybody . . . calls me Chas.”

Kara nodded. The name went well with the youth’s Mediterranean coloring: olive skin, straight dark hair. His dark brown eyes were hidden now behind closed lids, but she’d seen them before. “Then I’ll call you Chas too. That’s fine with you, isn’t it, Chas? Say ‘Yes, Dr. Pendleton’ if it’s okay for me to call you Chas.”

“Yes, Dr. Pendleton,” Chas echoed.

“That’s fine, Chas.” The doctor gathered a breath. “Now, Chas, you understand that you’re asleep right now, don’t you. Fast asleep and dreaming. Tell me what’s happening to you, Chas.”

“I’m fast asleep,” Chas muttered. “Dreaming.”

“In fact,” Kara elaborated, “you’re asleep at home, in your own bed. You’re dreaming,” the psychiatrist chuckled wickedly, “that you tried to rob a beautiful female psychiatrist, but that she caught you and hypnotized you and you’re now totally in her power and will do anything she says. Say ‘Yes, Dr. Pendleton’ if that’s all true.”

“Yes, Dr. Pendleton.” And it was true, as far as Chas’s dazed mind was concerned. Every word. “Totally in her . . . power. I will do anything . . . she says.”

“That’s right, Chas. You’re totally in my power. You will do anything I say. Now,” the doctor commanded, “tell me about yourself. Tell me everything, Chas. Remember, you can trust me, because I’m a doctor. And besides, this is all just a dream, and in this dream you must now do anything I say.”

“Yes, Dr. Pendleton.” Chas nodded. In a low voice, he went on. Still idly twirling her necklace, Kara listened.

Chas, it seemed, was nineteen. He lived on the South Side, in one of the ethnic neighborhoods there, in a small apartment, having run away from his family he previous year after an argument with his parents over his brushes with the police. Kara’s apartment was only the latest home he’d broken into, though by far the richest. His dad had managed to keep him out of jail after those earlier escapades, but it was obvious that it was only a matter of time before he went to prison, especially now that he was a legal adult.

Kara smiled again. “Don’t worry, Chas,” she told the young man standing before her with his head bowed and his eyes closed. “Even if this were not a dream, I wouldn’t turn you over to the police. Because we’re friends, and because you’re going to put back everything you took. You are, aren’t you, Chas? You’re going to put everything back, because I’ve told you to and you must do everything I tell you to do.”

“Yes, Dr. Pendleton,” came the reply. “Gonna put back . . . everything I took.”

“That’s a good boy, Chas,” Kara told him. “Now open your eyes, Chas, open your eyes but remain fast asleep, fast asleep in your dream where you must obey me without question. You must obey me without question. Open your eyes, and obey.”

Chas opened his eyes. As Kara had suspected, they were a rich, dark brown. Only if one looked carefully would one have noticed that at the moment they were slightly glazed.

“You have nice eyes,” the doctor complimented her subject. “Now, Chas, what is it you must do?”

“I must obey you . . . without question.”

“That’s right,” the doctor agreed. “You must do anything I say, believe anything I tell you, think and feel and remember only what I instruct you to. You must do this because you’re asleep and dreaming, even though your eyes are open, and that’s how this dream works. Do you understand, and will you do as I’ve said to do?”

“Yes, Dr. Pendleton.” Chas was using her name now without prompting, Kara noticed: a sign of how he had accepted her control. “I must do . . . whatever you say.” He echoed the rest of Kara’s decrees, finishing, “I under . . . stand.”

“That’s good, Chas. That’s very good.” Satisfied, Kara put the necklace back around her neck, took her hypnotized captive by the hand and said, “Now let’s go put back the things you took from me, shall we? Let’s put everything back.”

Lost in a world of shiny dazzles, Chas allowed Kara to lead him from the room.

Presently, Kara Pendleton and Chas Torini returned to the doctor’s second-floor bedroom. Obeying his programming, Chas had unloaded his booty bag, returning every item in it exactly where he’d found it. His hypnotized mind might be incapable of rational thought, but it recalled perfectly where each piece of loot had come from.

Kara regarded the mesmerized male in front of her with smug speculation. He was a handsome one, she thought, and completely receptive to her commands. She suspected that like a lot of men who made a point of toughness, he was secretly a submissive. Such men were especially vulnerable to her talents, she had found.

It was time to take this encounter to the next level.

“Chas,” she said, “I need you to listen to me carefully now. I need you to listen carefully and do exactly as I say, just as you’ve been doing. I need you to think and feel and do exactly as I tell you to. If you obey me, if you think and feel and do just as I say, Chas, I promise you’ll be very happy.”

Chas nodded loosely. “Exactly . . . as you say,” he agreed. “Very . . . happy.”

Kara’s hands stole to the belt binding her robe shut. It was the work of moments to untie it, letting the garment fall open to reveal a generous expanse of well-developed chest under a tight halter bra and taut, tanned belly over a tiny string bikini bottom, sheet stockings and spike heels, a teenage boy’s magazine fantasy come to life. “Do you like what you see, Chas?”

“Uhhh,” came the answer. Chas’s eyes widened, and the front of his dungarees tented. “Y-yeah . . .”

Kara smiled. The question had been purely rhetorical, of course, part of the game she was playing with her bespelled boy burglar. She knew perfectly well the effect her body had on men. She worked hard to make sure it kept on being able to do so, even on men who weren’t helplessly hypnotized. And as soon as she’d seen who was prowling her apartment, she had known just how to accessorize to amplify its effect on him. Young or old, men were predictable.

“Then I need you to show me, Chas,” the doctor demanded. “Take off your clothes, Chas. Take them all off. It’s all right. Remember, I’m a doctor, and besides, this is just a dream.” The logic of that last bit wouldn’t stand up to much scrutiny, she thought, amused at herself—but then, Chas was in no condition to give it much.

The youth obeyed, shucking his clothing mechanically like the flesh-and-blood robot he had become. Presently he was entirely naked, and Kara could see without obstruction the proof of his arousal. She whistled softly in appreciation.

“Now come here, Chas.” Kara shrugged out of her robe, letting it fall to the floor around her feet. “Take me, Chas, you can’t think about anything else right now, you don’t need to think about anything else right now, just come to me so we can both come.”

Chas growled and lurched forward, grabbing clumsily at the devious doctor who had him in her thrall. Kara let him force her onto the bed, drew him down atop her and guided his hands as he reached for her bra. When that snapped open, she steered him next to her tiny panties. She had intended to have him peel off her shoes and stockings too, but by the time her briefs slid away she was too aroused to bother. She left them on and clamped him between her legs, pulling him into her and beginning to rock. Chas’s own body responded, thrusting and pumping. It wanted to let go inside her, but Kara was in control: her commands kept her mesmerized partner just short of climax until she was ready herself. Then, with a cry of “Now, Chas! Doctor’s orders! Now!” she clenched him harder than ever. His ecstatic cry of “Yes! Doctor! Pendleton!” melded with Kara’s own wordless shriek of pleasure.

Some time later, Kara Pendleton stood by the bed, once more clad in her robe, one hand on her hip. An elegant cigarette holder dangled between the index and third fingers of her other hand, bearing an expensive cigarette of foreign make raised ready for another puff when she felt like it. She tilted her head and blew a wisp of aromatic smoke upward, enjoying the sense of luxury she felt. Her honey-blonde hair fell in a rippling wave down her back; even if she’d had it bound up when she’d gone to bed, something she disliked, it would have come loose during her exertions with her latest hypno-toy.

Chas lay amid the tangled sheets, not quite genuinely asleep—Kara would not permit it, not this night—but utterly relaxed, his mind completely open to her.

She looked from the youth to the cigarette thoughtfully. If she wished, she could condition him to find smoking, at least by her, sexually stimulating or even hypnotic. She had done it with others. With a touch of regret, she decided against it. True conditioning would take multiple sessions, and she had no excuse for seeing this young ruffian, either professionally or personally. She’d learned early that her unique . . . practices . . . required discretion.

“Chas,” she said firmly, “open your eyes now. Open your eyes now, Chas, sit up and listen carefully.”

Chas obeyed. In moments, he was sitting up, bare feet pressed against the bedroom carpet, face tilted up to meet Karla’s gaze. “Yes, Dr. Pendleton.”

“You know, Chas,” she scolded, “you’ve been a bad boy. A bad, bad boy!”

“A bad, bad boy,” Chas echoed. His mouth turned down, and for a moment he looked as though he might cry. Kara’s choice of words seemed to have regressed him.

“But don’t worry, Chas,” the wicked therapist hurried on. “It’s all right. It’s all right.”

“’S . . . all right,” Chas mumbled, relief on his slack features.

“You didn’t hurt me, after all. Quite the opposite,” gloated the blonde. “And you put back everything you were planning to steal. So there’s no need for me to tell anyone. Nobody has to know anything about it.” She paused.

Chas nodded, keeping his eyes on Kara’s. “Yes, Dr. Pendleton. Nobody . . . has to know . . . anything about it.”

“Not even you, Chas,” Kara went on. “In a moment, I’m going to give you some final instructions, Chas. You will obey those instructions without question. You will obey them even though when you wake up in the morning you will not remember what they are and even though you will not remember me giving them to you. You will obey them even though this is only a dream, Chas, and even though when you wake up you will remember only the vaguest details, just as with any other dream. You will obey, even though you won’t remember. Do you understand, Chas, and will you obey?”

“Yes, Dr. Pendleton.” Again, Chas nodded without taking his eyes off Kara’s face. “I understand and will .. . obey. Even though I . . . won’t remember.”

Satisfied, Kara nodded. After a moment, she spoke again, issuing Chas his final instructions. “When I snap my fingers, Chas, you will get up, get dressed, and leave my apartment. As soon as you leave my apartment, you will wake up, Chas, and go directly home. As soon as you get home, Chas, you will go to bed and fall asleep until morning, when you will wake up alert and refreshed. And when you do wake up in the morning, Chas, alert and refreshed, you will remember what happened here only as a dream, Chas, a dream which will fade more and more the harder you try to remember it. Do you understand all of this, Chas, and will you obey?”

“Yes, Dr. Pendleton.”

“But Chas, if you ever hear my voice saying the words ‘doctor’s orders,’ you will at once relax and fall back into this wonderful dream in which you must do whatever I say. You will not remember me telling you to do this, but when you hear the words, you will relax and obey.”

“Yes, Dr. Pendleton. I will not remember, but when I hear the words . . .’doctor’s orders’ . . . I will relax and obey.”

“And, Chas, if you ever move, or get a new phone number, you will call me as soon as you can and tell me your new number or your new address. Then you will forget making the call.”

Once again Chas assented helplessly.

“And one more thing, Chas.” Dr. Pendleton reached out to ruffle Chas’s hair for a moment. “Remember, I’m a doctor. If you ever get in trouble and need to make a phone call, you will call me, because you know you can trust me, because I’m a doctor.” Once again, Kara’s logic wouldn’t have persuaded Chas had he been awake, but to his hypnotized mind it made perfect sense. “You will call me. And if you call me because you are in trouble, Chas, you will remember the call, but you will not remember that you called because of these instructions. You will make up a reason why you called me, Chas, and as soon as you have made up a reason, you will believe it to be true. Do you understand, Chas? Will you do as I’ve asked?”

“Yes, Dr. Pendleton. I understand. I will do . . . as you’ve asked.”

“Of course you will, Chas.” Kara Pendleton snapped her fingers.

Dr. Pendleton watch smugly as her would-be robber silently put his discarded clothes back on. When he was fully clothed once more, she pulled his gun from her bedside drawer and handed it to him. Mechanically, he put it away and headed for the bedroom door. He opened it, stepped through and shut it quietly behind him, still without uttering a word. He had no need to speak; his mistress had given him nothing to say.

Kara opened the door again and looked out, watching as Chas headed down toward stairs. She padded out behind him, following him as he returned to the ground floor level. He didn’t notice. She was not part of his reality right now; only if she had spoken his trigger phrase would he have responded to her, and then only to dive gratefully back into full trance.

Chas exited the doctor’s apartment, walking down the short flight of stone steps between her front door and the pavement, and moved away.

Watching, Kara was well pleased. Not only had she turned this young hoodlum who had tried to rob her at gunpoint into a writhing, eager sex slave for the evening, she had been able to get her hypnotic hooks into him for later as well. It was wasteful to throw even a casual toy away after just one use, after all. One never knew when one might want to play with it again.

Chas Torini woke up grinning.

After a minute or so, the grin faded a bit. He’d had the greatest dream, he knew, some kinky fantasy, but the more he tried to bring back the details, the more they seemed to melt away. Well, it didn’t matter.

He shook his head to clear it. What the hell had he been doing last night, anyway? He didn’t usually get drunk, but he must have really tied one on. Trying to recall the previous evening, he drew a total blank except for the remaining shreds of that dream he’d had.

He’d have to watch that, he told himself: B-and-E was supposed to stand for break-and-enter, not “blank and empty.” He was lucky he didn’t have a mother of a hangover. In fact, he didn’t seem to have one at all.

Things could have been a lot worse. He could have done something stupid and ended up really screwed.