The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

After Charles Rach left my office, I had Mrs Smith contact Joan _____, a supervisor in one of the social services agencies in N_______, the city to which Bianca had supposedly “retired.” After a few minutes, Mrs Smith put through the return call.

“Arthur, you old rogue,” Joan said when I picked up the receiver, “To what do I owe the honour of your contacting me?”

“Couldn’t I just be catching up with old aquaintances?” I asked.

“Don’t be disingenuous. It isn’t your style,” she replied. “What can I do for you?”

I concisely outlined what little I knew of Bianca, leaving out the scandalous details and mystical speculations. “And she is supposed to have moved into your district about a year ago, or a little more. I thought I might warn you of such a notorious and successful confidence artist taking up residence in N____.”

“And you want to know if this person is living here,” she deduced shrewdly, “And how to contact her, no doubt. Arthur, are you playing detective again?”

“Why, no.” I lied, knowing she wouldn’t believe me. “What ever gave you that idea?”

“Arthur Conan Bell, don’t you try that with me,” she admonished. “Your father did you no favour when he named you, connecting you to your great, great-grandfather and his hobby of amateur forensics. Half the time, I believe you think you are old Dr. Bell, or even Conan-Doyle’s fictional version.” She made a sound half-way between a sigh and a chuckle. “Of course I’ll ask around, and let you know what I find out.”

“I could not ask for more. You are a jewel among women and a credit to your profession.”

“Flatterer!” she shot back and hung up.

It was almost a week before I heard from her again. I had assumed that she could not locate anyone like Bianca among the Jamaican ex-pat community in N_____, and was no longer expecting any information from that quarter. However, the day that Mr. Charles Rach was due to return for another consultation, she rang me up.

“Arthur, you’re not going to believe what I have found,” Joan began, once the conventional greetings and pleasantries had been gotten past. “That is, maybe you had some idea of what I would find, but it came as a surprise to me.”

“Do go on,” I encouraged. “This sounds interesting and pertinent.”

“There is this ‘escort’ named Lisa on our client list. She is a British girl from L—, but because of her profession, she mixes in the ethnically mixed community of H____, which is a suburb of N_____. I knew she had some connections to the Carribean ex-patriate sub-culture, so I asked her if anyone resembling your Bianca had moved into the area within the last couple of years.” Joan paused, as much for dramatic effect, I thought, as to catch her breath. “She tells me that there was a new arrival called Sandie who moved into the neighborhood about two years ago. She noticed that after a couple of months, Sandie seemed to just walk into the local grocery store, take what she wanted, say a few words to the store owner, and leave without paying. Lisa knows the store owner, and he doesn’t give credit.”

“This sounds like a promising lead,” I said.

“Well, Lisa wondered what was going on,” Joan continued. “So she got to know Sandie herself. She says Sandie is not particularly attractive, tall and plump, in her mid 30’s, a single mother with two kids to support, but she seems to live very well. Lisa thinks many folks regard her as pitiful, because she shuffles around the neighborhood in a long shabby overcoat, and are mystified by how she not only survives but seems to prosper. On meeting Sandie, Lisa found her to have a magnetic personality. She was very engaging, with big, smiling eyes, and people just trust her instantly. Once Lisa got to know Sandie, and vice-versa, and she learned what Lisa did for a living, Sandie began to tell her what she was doing.”

“It turns out that Sandie’s family came from Jamaica, and that she claimed descent from a long line of voodoo women, and that it was normal there for such women to draw on the resources of many men in the community.”

I made a ‘please continue’ sound, but thought to myself that Sandie’s behavior didn’t sound much like the voodoo practicioners of whom I had heard. Nor did Bianca’s. But their approach sounded similar. Could they be the same person?

“When Sandie moved into the neighbourhood, she spent a few weeks chatting to people and finding her way around. Lisa says Sandie is so nice to talk to, and she has these big, staring eyes that hold your attention, so she had no trouble getting people to talk to her. After that, Sandie started to focus on certain men she wanted to influence, winning their confidence and getting them to open up in conversation.”

“Lisa tells me that Sandie has this crystal pendant, which she tells people was handed down to her from her grandmother and is supposed to have strong voodoo powers.” Joan snorted. “Well, that is bullshit, of course. I told Lisa that it sounded pretty corny to me, but she said no, it really works. She didn’t think she could be hypnotised, and she told Sandie so. Then Sandie showed her the pendant, a cheap cut glass thing about an inch and a half in diameter, roughly spherical. As they talked, Sandie swung this thing around and around. They were both laughing as Lisa said it wouldn’t have any effect. Lisa told me that after a while, she found herself glancing at it as it came around, looking more and more, until she began to find it more difficult to carry on the conversation. Then Sandie took control of the conversation and began talking about the pendant, how bright and sparkly it was—you know the patter—and Lisa says that after about 3 or 4 minutes she was lost staring at the thing.”

“That sounds like the woman I am looking for,” I stated. “I do not think there could be two so much alike, and alike skilled in hidden or indirect hypnosis, in England. Did you get any independent confirmation? What about the grocer?”

“I have a very good field worker in that neighborhood,” Joan replied, “And she knows all the merchants in the area, personally. I’ll have her talk to him and get back to you.”

“That would be most helpful,” I assured her. We chatted a few more seconds, and then she hung up.

I looked up to find Mrs. Smith standing in front of my desk. “Mr. Rach is here for his appointment, she said. “Has that young man asked you to track down this Bianca woman for him?”

“Not exactly,” I admitted.

“Then what are you up to, Dr. Bell?” she asked, suspiciously.

“Investigating an intriguing person and phenomenon,” I replied, “And a situation in which I may have to take action, even without being asked to. Now please send in Mr. Rach, and don’t worry.”

She left with a glance back which conveyed both concern and irritation. A moment later she showed Charles Rach in.

As I asked him to take a seat, and passed the time with a few remarks about the weather (cold and rainy, as usual for London), I scrutinized him carefully. Was there any change in his appearance or demeanor, positive or negative, to give me a clue as to how these sessions were affecting him? Was I doing him any good?

“Well, Dr. Bell,” he said finally, “I suppose we had better get on with it.”

“Charles, you don’t have to tell me anything.” I replied. “I am listening to your story in order to help you. If telling me all this makes you uncomfortable, or bringing up painful memories is troubling you...”

“No, no,” he hurried to reassure me. “It is not that. I rather enjoyed my sessions with Bianca, or some of them at least. What was bothering me was the thought of how dependent upon her I became, how very much subservient to her slightest whim. And discussing what happened, what she did to me, is helping me understand why I did so. I can now comprehend how the pleasure of those sessions bound me to her.”

“I am not sure that is any better, if recalling the pleasures reinforces the bonds,” I mused. “Never-the-less, once begun, sooner done, as they say. Please continue your story.”

Charles sat back in his chair, and began with a summary of his situation after his third visit to Bianca...

Bianca’s suggestion that I take up some more work on the weekends seemed out of the question to me at first, but I would find her repeatedly coming back to it, until it didn’t seem so outrageous.

One of the things I noticed in the first 4 weeks of going to Bianca was the physical change. It felt as if my balls were heavier, and along with my cock which seemed to be in a state of either semi- or permenent erection, it seemed I was dragging around this burden of Bianca with me. As days went by, I became more and more aware of this awkward heaviness, and it felt as if those bits didn’t belong to me anymore.

“This is more evidence that she was using Ericksonian methods of hypnotizing you,” I told him. “These methods try to achieve this state of disassociation from parts of your own body as a means of validating the trance experience and increasing the susceptability of the subject to the control of the hypnotist.”

Charles looked thoughtful, and continued...

It must have been on the 4th visit. I had been able to stay away only about 10 days. I was stiff and sore to the point of distraction. Nothing mattered to me more than bringing my erection to her cleavage, and I became totally focused on that. It was very frustrating when I arrived and found the little sign on her door, which meant that she was busy with one client and had another waiting. I got more and more annoyed as I found myself prescribing a big circle around the block, but I couldn’t seem to get too far away. I hung around until I saw a guy leave, and knew at last I could get in, even though I would just be waiting for another whole session, and had to be content to chat with the maid.

One thing that puzzled me was that the brain bending erection which drove me relentlessly along to Bianca relaxed as soon as I got into her flat. Having arrived, I found myself thinking “Now what was that all about? I feel I could just get up now and leave.” When Bianca came in, I mentioned it to her, and she said it was because the erection had done its job and brought me to her. I told her about the problems I had going around and around in the rain (for it was raining that day), but unable to move away. She said, “I bet if you try to go back to the tube station your balls tighten and your cock comes up really angry, like it’s tugging at you...” That’s exactly what DID happen, and her understanding of the mechanisms just made me feel ever more helpless to resist her.

I was in a hell of a state, very angry and annoyed about what I had gone through. Especially that here I was just 10 days or so after my last visit. I must admit that mentally I had surrendered after only 7 days, I knew I had to go back again, but I held out the extra 3 days for pride. Bianca acted very sympathetic, and spent a long time with me on this occasion. She wore a lovely white bra with a plunging cleavage, and lots of lacy decoration. I was talking a lot, complaining about the money she was costing me, and generally ranting on. I told Bianca about the feeling of heaviness in my balls, and she just laughed.

“That is something my other clients complain about, too,” she said. “I carry the heavy burden and weight of my huge tits but nature has a way of balancing things out, so that my burden is transferred to my clients in the way you are experiencing. The burden on you will be not only physical, but financial too. Your need to relieve your heavy load will be too strong for you, and you cannot break this natural cycle of this load building up over the days and your returning with it for me to empty. All you are paying for then was my time to perform that function for you”.

Then Bianca cupped her hands around her bra and pushed her breasts together in a gentle, steady rhythm that soon had me focused on a very narrow area, namely her canyon-like cleavage. She just ignored my ranting. She said nothing at first, just kept rolling her bust from side to side, almost as if I wasn’t there. Gradually my words trailed off and I just stood there in the middle of the room staring into her hypnotic cleavage. Then she started to speak...

“That’s good, just relax...,” she said in a low soft voice. Her voice became almost a whispering hiss, and she continued, “Yess, you are swelling for me...coming up sso stiff...” Then she said something to me that I don’t remember too clearly, and I just had to get my pants off. I thought they were on fire. I was soon standing there pointing at her. She began making passes along my cock with her hands. She was careful not to touch it, she just let it bounce about to the beat of my heart, which made me very conscious of it. She moved her hands around it, teasing it and making as if she were drawing it along with her hand. This sounds stupid now, but I found that I had to follow her, my hips twitching and jerking me along as she urged me over to the bed. This was the same kind of feeling I got that first time she pulled me in, there was a tangible, physical magnetism. It must have looked very funny to someone watching.

She had me sit down on the edge of the bed with her sitting opposite me in a chair. She reached forward and curled her forefinger and thumb around the top of my balls, pulling the sacs down so that they hung over the edge of the bed. She was right when she said that she could pull them down a long way without hurting me. She had a silk necktie with a slip knot tied in one end and while she held my balls firmly in one hand, she slipped this over my balls with the other. Tightening the slip knot, this tie now replaced her fingers and she sat back and tied the other end of it to the front of her bra, the strong part which linked the two cups. She giggled (she was having fun) and bounced her bust up and down which made my balls pop forward. She leaned back and pulled so that I gasped—sort of the “Ahhh!” that you make when you know that the pain could be just around the corner. Then she began a sort of question session as she kept me focused on her cleavage. It went something like this:

“Your balls feel fatter and heavier since you met me,” she stated, not asked.

“Yes,” I responded.

“And you are having to relieve the stiffness which bothers you so much.”

“Yes,” I admitted.

“You think about me, and my deep cleavage seems to be calling to you, bringing you up at any time, night and day.”

“Yes.”

“That’s good,” she cooed.

She went on like this for a while, and then she started asking questions about my girlfriend Sally, and about money. When I hesitated, Bianca leaned back, pulling firmly on the necktie. This made my balls bulge and my cock bloat whilst preventing me from exploding onto her carpet. She would ask the question again, me still staring into her deep cleavage and the answers just flowed out of me. Any hesitation and she would pull, ‘though she never hurt me, really. Afterwards, I realised all the things I had told her helped her to establish more control over me, but at the time, I couldn’t understand why she would want to know all this personal information. “Why are you asking me this?” I questioned, annoyed, at one point.

“I need to know certain things so that I can manage you as my client effectively,” she explained. “Because you have no responsibilities I will demand a big commitment from you.”

By this time into our session, I was able to protest only feebly, although the financial effects of going to see Bianca were already starting to pinch my budget as painfully as her silk tie pinched my balls.

Ultimately I couldn’t resist. I told her everything she wanted to know, and she rewarded me with another thought anihilating orgasm.

When we were through, we talked again while I dressed. Again she suggested, not in an aggressive or overtly domineering way, but as if she was trying to be helpful, that I seek extra work on the weekends. I still resisted this, as an outrageous imposition on me, but it no longer seemed unthinkable, as it had the first time she suggested it. I did not realize that I would comply with that suggestion within 2 or 3 weeks. She gave me the distinct impression that once she had established the revenue flow, and that was guaranteed, her pleasure was in manipulating me. She said she got such a kick out of seeing me turn up, pulling me in deeper, and working me around.

Charles looked up as he finished. “Well, Dr. Bell,” he said ruefully, “I guess you can see where this is leading.”

“I have an idea or two,” I replied. “But you need to tell me, to talk it out, and work out in your own mind just what was happening. And for that purpose, I want you to come back next week at the same time, and we will talk again. Meanwhile, I want you to think about what you have told me, and think about what this Bianca woman did and said in the light of what we have discussed. I am afraid you still find too much pleasure in the memories to fully realize how badly you were treated.” I rang for Mrs Smith to come and show him out.

“Oh, now,” he protested, as he got up to go. “She cost me some money, but I do not believe she meant me any harm.”

“Harump!” I commented as he left. “Mrs. Smith, may I speak to you after you have shown Mr. Rach out?”

“Yes, Dr. Bell,” she said, returning to my office after making next week’s appointment for Charles Rach.

“Please see if you can locate and contact Ms Amanda Blade,” I instructed her, “Or any of her known associates, whatever names and identities they are currently using.”

She looked shocked. “Surely you don’t intend...”

“I may have need of her unique talents,” I interrupted. “Please do as I ask.”

“Very well,” she said disapprovingly. She shuddered. “But she ... disturbs me. She seems ... inhuman at times.”

“Inhuman indeed,” I muttered as she left.