The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Laney and Pete had been lovers for 48 hours when he hypnotised her for the first time. A dozen of the students were gathered in the front hall of Pete’s dorm, talking about what to do that evening. Laney stood close to Pete, her hand in his, her soft blonde hair brushing his shoulder. Pete’s roommate Ed was suggesting that they go to a party at the Sigma Chi house. “They call it a closed party, but I know a couple of the guys there, we won’t have any trouble getting in. They have a live band.”

Laney expected Pete to jump at the chance of a party, but he was silent. Someone else was speaking, as Pete looked down at her and said, “What do you think, babe? We could go if you want to. But we don’t have to. We could...” His thumb rubbed her palm.

Laney smiled. “We could just chill for a while, and then...” She squeezed his hand.

“If we decide we want to...” His finger, behind her back, traced slowly down the curve of her buttock.

“Or not...” She swayed her hip infinitesimally. The denim brushed against his thigh.

Pete turned to Ed. “We have some stuff to do first. I have to help Laney prep for Bio. But we’ll see you there, later. Maybe.”

Ed caught the drift. He grinned. “OK, don’t wait up for me. I’ll be back real late. If I meet up with Hannah I might not be back at all.” Hannah, Laney’s roommate, was Ed’s occasional consort and drinking buddy.

Laney and Pete went back up into the dorm, ambling slowly up the stairs until they were out of sight of the others, then climbing faster, and finally racing down the hall to his door. “I don’t think we fooled Ed,” said Laney, gasping, laughing as she leaned against the doorjamb. Pete replied as he unlocked the door, “I don’t think we fooled anyone. But I don’t care. We can have our own party. Want to dance?". Entering, he switched on just one low light and put a mix of slow tunes on the stereo. Laney slipped into his arms and they swayed in a gentle two-step to David Gray. Laney felt his tall, lanky frame against her. He smelt faintly of aftershave and spliff. She relaxed against him as they danced, and she was amused to feel that he had an erection. She raised her face to be kissed, and his lips brushed hers and then pressed with force, their tongues darting together. Kissing and laughing, they stumbled over to the bed, fumbling with each others’ buttons and buckles.

Half an hour later, the two lovers lay spent. Laney was on top, her head against his chest, her hips still straddling his. The night air from the open window cooled the sweat on her limbs. She shivered a bit and he drew a sheet up over her back. “That was... was... " she said. “Words fail me.”

“Outrageous,” he suggested.

“Mmm. Outrageous. I think I, well, um, twice. You know?”

“I guessed. It was the shaking and screaming that gave me the clue,” he said, lifting his head to nuzzle her hair.

“Oh God. Did I make a lot of noise?”

“No, it was a very delicate, ladylike sound. More a series of stifled shrieks. Like this: Eee! Eee! Eee!”

“Stop! You horrible man,” she said, laughing, covering his mouth with her hands. Then she covered his mouth with her own mouth instead, and they didn’t say anything more for a few minutes. After that she sighed and rolled off him, and lay with her head on his shoulder gazing at him.

“So, what else do you like?” Pete said. “Before answering, you should know that my one purpose in life, at the moment, is to find ways to make you happy. You’ve been on the bottom, on top, and I’ve worn your thighs for earmuffs”—Laney burst out laughing—“Is there anything else your big warm heart desires?”

“Oh God, Hon, you must be the best man on earth. What do I want. Hmm. Sounds like an invitation to think up wild new perversions. Is that what you want, hon? Are you a big pervy? Are you hoping I’ll want to do things with rubber gloves and vacuum cleaners?” She grinned and tickled him. Pete liked it when Laney called him Hon. It was what she said when they made love. When she came. When he made her come.

“Hey! Stop tickling! No, I’m not a perv. But there are a few things we haven’t tried yet, is all. I mean, very ordinary... things. Positions, you know.”

“Such as? I’m looking into your pervy soul here, hon.”

“Well, for example—how can I say this delicately—arf? woof? bow-wow? growf!”

Laney hooted with laughter. “Oh yes, that’s delicate. You subtle and sophisticated man. Sorry, hon, you’re out of luck. I just don’t like to do that. I think maybe it’s the silly name that puts me off. Doggy style. How can any girl want to make sweet love "—she traced a fingertip slowly in a circle on his chest—“with a boy she cares about, in a position called doggy style? Not even facing him. It seems so anonymous.”

“Have you ever?”

“Oh sure, I’ve tried it”—she blushed delicately. There were still things that could embarrass her with him.—“but I just didn’t like it. I didn’t really feel anything at all. It was like he was just using me. I was on all fours like a female animal, a dog or something, and I couldn’t wait for it to be over. Yuck.”

“But you know it’s the way most creatures do it. It’s natural. Maybe more natural than face-to-face.”

“You trying to talk me into something here, hon? I mean, you know I’m, well, a little bit crazy about you”—she blushed again—“but you wouldn’t want me to do something I don’t like, would you? Really, would you? I’m sorry, I know it’s irrational of me and I know that lots of couples like it...”

“How do you know?”

She laughed. “Well, girls talk, you know. Hannah, she says that she and Ed, when they get drunk and shag, that’s practically all they do. She likes not to see his face, she can pretend it’s Brad Pitt. Oh God, don’t tell him! You musn’t tell!” They were both rolling with laughter. It made a horrible kind of sense. Neither Ed nor Hannah would ever win any beauty contests.

“Don’t tell me any more”, he said. “I just don’t want to have that image in my mind. Ed and Hannah, yuck. Like beached whales. But good for them if they enjoy it. The idea of you and I doing it, on the other hand, sounds kind of nice. Intimate. Primitive. Uninhibited.” His finger traced a circle around her nipple, and the pink flesh crinkled in response.

“But what can I do? If I don’t enjoy it, it won’t be any fun for you. Please tell me it won’t.”

“No of course not. You come first. So to speak.”

“Crude boy. But intelligent lover. Oh, I know it’s not unnatural, it’s just a manner of thinking. But I don’t know how to feel differently about it. I wish I did. I wish you could just wave a magic wand”—she giggled and put her hand on his cock—“and make me want to be your doggy.”

“My sweet pet. It might help if you stopped thinking of it as the ‘doggy position’. Dogs are crude. How about the ‘mammal position’? As practised by all kinds of mammals, just like us, warm-blooded, viviparous, body hair, mate for life”—she raised an eyebrow—“well, mate for a month, or maybe a year. If I’m lucky. And we aren’t dogs, but we are mammals.”

“OK. Mammal position. Better. But not good enough. Sorry, my baby. It still feels.. yuck.”

“You need a real change of attitude. Like a brainwashing. Hey! I could hypnotise you!”

“What?”

“I could hypnotise you. I told you about how I used self-hypnosis to quit smoking, right? It’s easy. So I could do the same thing to you, and suggest that you’ll enjoy the... mammal position.”

“Could you do that? Is it dangerous?”

“It’s only a light trance. You’ll feel a little bit spacy for a few minutes. And you’ll remember everything.”

“Hmm. OK. It sounds interesting. And no funny stuff, OK, Svengali? No making me run around the dorm nude or assassinate the Dean.”

“That’s only in films. It’s true what they say, the hypnotist can’t make you do anything that you’d never really want to do.”

“What should I do? Is lying down OK?”

“I guess. You have to fix your eyes on something—that little spot on the ceiling. There. Now really focus on it, examine it carefully, concentrate on it. That’s it. And just let yourself drift. Relax. Relax completely. That’s good. You feel very relaxed. Completely relaxed. Very calm and peaceful, nothing can disturb you here, you’re safe and happy, just drifting. I can see that your eyes feel heavy, your eyelids want to droop, but don’t let them close yet, keep them open for three more seconds for me, two more seconds for me, one more second for me, close your eyes. You’re completely relaxed, just drifting, drowsy, but still listening to my voice. Nothing else, just drifting, sleepier and sleepier and hearing the sound of my voice. You can speak, but only when I tell you to. You can answer my questions. Laney, can you hear my voice?”

The girl’s lips quivered and parted. She answered quite slowly, “Yes.”

“Are you very relaxed, and calm, and sleepy?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now I want you to imagine that you are at the top of a beautiful staircase. It’s a winding staircase, of carved wood, ten steps. A few feet below the bottom step is an enormous feather bed, a very deep and comfortable bed with duvets and pillows. I’m going to count from ten down to one, and with each number you will take a step down the stairs. With each step you will go deeper and deeper into sleep. When I say ‘one’ you will fall off the bottom step down into the bed, the beautiful very soft bed, and you will go deeply to sleep. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

Pete counted down from ten. At the end Laney sighed deeply and lay very still. “Laney, can you hear me?”

Silence. Laney’s breathing was deep and slow.

“Laney. If you can hear me, say the word ‘Yes’.”

A pause, then a slow, drugged-sounding whisper: “yes”.

“OK. Let’s see... Laney, in a moment I’m going to tell you to open your eyes. You’ll try and try, but you won’t be able to open them. It’s like they are glued shut. Then when I tell you to stop, you’ll relax even deeper asleep than you are now. Do you understand?”

Pause. “Yes.”

“Laney, try to open your eyes.” The muscles of the girl’s face worked, but her eyes remained shut. “Stop now. Relax. Feel yourself sinking deeper and deeper asleep. No dreams, no thoughts. You are aware of nothing but my voice. You love feeling this relaxed and deeply asleep. It feels... hot. It’s a turn-on. If I ever hypnotise you again you will quickly and easily go to this same relaxed state. You hope I will, you look forward to it. Do you understand?”

Pause. “Yes.”

“OK. Now, let’s talk about the mammal position. You don’t mind talking about it. You find it very releasing to talk honestly. You trust me, and you know you can be completely truthful with me. That’s so, isn’t it?”

Pause. “Truthful.”

“Of course. Earlier, before you went to sleep, we talked about the mammal position. You told me there were things you didn’t like about it. You said it was anonymous, and it made you feel like an animal. I wonder, was there anything else about it? Anything else you didn’t tell me before, that you could tell me now? Knowing how good it feels to tell me the complete truth. Tell me.”

Long pause. Laney spoke softly and slowly, as though her words were making a long journey to reach her lips.“There is one thing.”

“Good girl. What is it?”

“I... I’m afraid it’ll be embarassing. How you’ll see me when you’re behind me. Not pretty. Just arse and back. Like an animal.”

“Listen carefully. You are proud of your arse and back. You know that they are beautiful. They are beautiful because they are parts of you, and you are beautiful. You are happy to show them to me, to have me see you. You know that I find you beautiful in every position. OK?”

Pause. “Yes.”

“Good. Now here’s the other thing. In future, when you make love you will feel like... a mammal in heat. You will have a deep desire to mate with a male. You are selective about who your mate is, but the important thing is that you need to mate. To screw. To fuck. You know that you’ve always really felt this way, but you’ve repressed the feeling until now. But now you know that you are a mammal, as well as being a person, and that when you make love your mammal side comes forward. And you believe that the mammal position, the rear entry position, is the position that will satisfy you the best, that will give you the deep penetration you crave. And it will excite your mate, so that he will screw you hard and long, which is what you desire. You will still enjoy making love in all other ways, but you know that the mammal position is the best. And when you make love that way, it will be the best sex you have ever felt. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good. And if you ever hear me say the words...”—Pete recalled the one serious disagreement he and Laney had had—“the words ‘Robbie Williams is a posing wanker’ then you will immediately begin to feel like a mammal who is guided by its instincts. You will feel very good, and sexy, and turned on. You’ll still be yourself, Laney, but you’ll also be a female mammal. But only if I say ‘Robbie Williams is a posing wanker.’ Do you understand?”

“Yes. Robbie Williams is a posing wanker.”

“OK. Now in a minute I will count from one to three, and you will wake up. You will not remember the things I have just said to you while you were asleep. But they will become true anyway. You will remember only that we had a nice quiet chat about sex, and that you agreed that you might want to try the mammal position once or twice in the future, and that you might learn to enjoy it. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to count to three. When I reach three you will feel wide awake and refreshed, relaxed, and happy. One. Starting to wake up now, feeling pleasant and content. Two. More and more awake, back in the room with me, you feel fine.” Laney stretched, and yawned, and rubbed her eyes, and blinked rapidly. “Three.”

Laney looked around her, and then at him, and smiled. “That was nice. Mmm. Is that all there is to it? It didn’t seem very different from being awake and talking to you, except my eyes were closed. And I was very relaxed.”

“So you feel OK? Do you remember what we talked about?”

“Of course. Like I said, I’ll try to be a little more adventurous. I’ll even try... well, maybe once.”

“OK. Well, maybe we can do it later.” He made as if to rise. “What do you think, shall we see if the others made it into the party?”

She put warm soft arms around him. “Not so fast, hon. It’s so nice and warm in your bed. Let’s cuddle a bit more first. I feel like a nice cuddle. Like... mmm. Like that. Oh it’s nice when you do that. I like it when you touch me here. And here. And there.” She twisted and turned in his arms, pressing herself hard against him. He caressed the soft skin of her thighs, and she made small pleased noises in her throat. She loved being touched by him, this boy of hers, and she felt herself grow damp as he stroked her back and breasts and buttocks, planting small kisses on her neck and ear. She recalled the talk they had had about mammals, and she imagined what it would be like to be an animal, driven by instinct. She felt herself to be a woman, a free female, free to choose her mate, and she knew that she wanted to mate with this strong and handsome man. Her mate. She was a person-creature, a human animal, and she felt the animal’s sudden sharp desire for sex. She wanted this partner, this man-creature, to come into her and fill her. The desire grew in her so quickly that reason and judgment were brushed aside. She wanted him, she had to have him or go crazy. She clutched at him and her nails scraped his back. She moaned, and rubbed her pelvis against him hard. She could feel his stiffening cock against her thigh. She needed him inside her. What was he waiting for? She needed to present herself to him, to invite him, beg him to mate with her. She was beyond words. She would show him.

Laney pulled a little away from him, and turned, and went onto her hands and knees. She looked at her mate with a face of passion and pleading. Would he refuse her? But he grinned—the feral grin of a hunter, she thought—and positioned himself kneeling behind her. She could do nothing but wait, head bowed, quivering with desire that he would come into her and make a consummation for her. She felt his cock-head sliding against her buttock, then prodding at her labia; he seized her by the hips and slowly pressed himself against her, harder, and she felt herself opening to him, then he was slipping inside her. With immeasurable satisfaction she felt him penetrating deeper and deeper inside the soft wet folds of her body. She was entirely a female animal, no thought or doubt possible, desparate to be serviced by her mate.

She felt herself melting with delight as he penetrated to her core, his glans pressing against her cervix. It was the greatest pleasure she had ever felt. He began to thrust, pressing deep into her over and over, gripping her hips. She felt as though she were fainting, evaporating with joy. Her arms began to tremble and she lowered her shoulders to the mattress, pressing her face into the clean, fresh-smelling sheets. She was a female mammal, passive, receptive, unable even to press against him, unable to grip him and hasten herself to a sharp completion. He moved deep within her, and she accepted him with a dumb animalistic joy. Her mate was within her. He continued, settling into a regular rhythmic pumping, his thighs pounding against hers, while she knelt passive, blissful, careless. It was her fulfillment as a female animal.

And then something changed within her, a motion grew out of nowhere, and she began to slowly rock her hips in a slight sway, side to side. A low keening escaped her lips. Perfectly unconscious of any intention, her hips seemed to sway of their own accord, and the keening grew, and her breath began to grow uneven, and she gasped, and then unexpectedly she was crying out “Hon! Oh, Hon!", and she was purely his woman, and she felt his seed spurting within her, and all of her skin was tingling as the first wave of climax hit her, and a great burst of joy overwhelmed her senses. She came and came in pulsating waves that felt like they would last forever. The sensation rippled up and up in an endless swell of pleasure. There were coruscating flashes of coloured light behind her closed eyelids. She made wordless cries that seemed to issue from the depths of time, from a billion years of her female ancestors crying out in passion. Then her limbs turned to water, and she collapsed to the mattress, and she fell into a vast dark canyon of fulfilled, mindless bliss.

It was Saturday night again. Laney didn’t often go out without Pete, but the soccer team was playing away for the weekend, so Laney was alone. Or as alone as you can be at a house party full of noise, music, people shouting to be heard, and people dancing. Beside Laney her friends Hannah and Narinda were arguing about their favourite rock singers, but Laney wasn’t interested. She was bored. She looked around the room, noting who was with whom, what the different girls were wearing, and which people were the centres of attention. She sipped from a glass of Sauvignon Blanc. She heard Hannah say “You can’t like Robbie Williams, he’s a wanker!” And Narinda replied, “OK, he’s a poseur, but he has a great voice.”

Laney dropped her glass. The stem snapped and the wine soaked into the carpet. She gazed dumbly down at it. A wave of dizziness passed over her, then her mind cleared. She looked out across the room again. Things looked different. The setting and the music did not register on her at all. She hardly noticed the girls, as indistinguishable as vaporous wraiths. But the boys! They looked hard-edged, supersolid, realer than real. Tall boys, thin boys, stocky boys, boys with bright eyes and smiles and muscles and tans, black and white boys, boys with red and blonde and dark hair, talking and moving and dancing, some glancing around, glancing at her. “God,” she thought, “I wish Pete was here. It’s been so hot with him. I could jump into the sack with him right this minute. But he’s not. Wow, look at all these great boys! Aren’t they gorgeous. If I was single...”

She looked, and thought no more about Pete. “I should mingle a bit. Silly to be at a party and not talk to anybody.” She scanned the crowd, noting which boys were occupied with other girls, which were just not up to her standard, which ones were possibilities... So engrossed was she, the word ‘predatory’ didn’t even cross her mind. “Him!” She fixed on a tall solidly-built boy sitting on the arm of a sofa, looking with bored disdain at the dancers. He had curly red hair, an eagle’s nose, and a short wispy beard on his lantern jaw. He wore an old leather jacket, tight jeans, and trainers. At once Laney rose and began threading through the crowd toward him. She thought, “Narinda has him as a TA in Calculus. Hungarian. His name’s Tibor. Grad student. Girlfriend? Not here, anyway.”

“Hi, Tibor. Here all alone?”

Tibor looked startled. Who was this pretty girl? He stared at her a moment. “Hi. You’re Narinda’s friend. Janey?”

“Laney. It’s noisy in here, would you like to step outside and get some air?” They found the back door and stood in the yard, under the oak trees. They made small talk, trying to find things they had in common. Laney found it difficult to talk. His physical presence was overwhelming to her. She imagined the curling red hairs on his chest, the muscles of his shoulders, the feel of his big hands on her back. She wondered if he was energetic in bed. Suddenly she was aware that he had stopped talking. He had asked her a question. What had he said?

On impulse, Laney stepped forward and kissed him full on the lips. His lips were warm and smooth. She held the kiss for a moment and then pulled back and stared at him. “What on earth am I doing?", she thought. Her lips tingled from the kiss, and there was a growing warmth in the pit of her belly. Tibor looked beautiful to her, like a young god. She was appalled and excited at her own behaviour. But some boys didn’t like a girl to be so forward. If he thought she was a flirt, he might not want to... She couldn’t finish the thought. “Um, sorry,” she said. “Uncontrollable impulse. Spring fever. Please ignore it. Let’s rewind the clock five minutes, shall we?”

Tibor was no fool. This very pretty girl looked innocent, and he suspected she had a boyfriend, but she was practically saying “come and get it.” Where her skirt clung to her thigh, there was no hint of underwear, and her bodice revealed the bumps of her nipples. He said, “OK, no problem. Look, I’m tired of that party anyway. I’ve got my car here. Can I give you a lift?”

Tibor’s car was an ancient Triumph convertible two-seater. The night was warm, and the top was down. He said “Where would you like to go?”

Laney opened her mouth to say “Back to my dorm” but the words that came out were “Your place.” She was amazed. What was she doing? But she felt such a close physical bond to the young man beside her, and the night was still young, and... It just seemed right. She refused to let her thoughts stray to the possible outcome.

He drove quickly in silence. He negotiated a turn at speed, and Laney reached out to keep her balance. Her hand landed on his thigh. She looked at it as though it were someone else’s hand. She didn’t take it away. Tibor glanced at her and drove a little faster.

Tibor lived in a flat above a bookshop just off the high street. As they walked side-by-side to his door, Laney felt like she was on a sailboat on a lake, and the boat was caught in a fast current, buoyant but inescapable. As she followed him up the stairs, she couldn’t take her eyes off his tight bum and strong thighs. Laney couldn’t think of anything to say. Soon there would be no escaping his embrace. Inside, she looked around the lofty flat, with its old furniture and piles of books, but she was scarcely aware of anything but him, his dominating physical presence. He turned to her, “Is there anything you’d like? A drink?”

Laney didn’t reply. Her sailboat was on an accelerating current, and the banks were narrowing, and her options were disappearing. The roaring in her ears was the sound of a waterfall ahead, and she was helpless. She looked at Tibor, and her reserve broke, and she slid toward him, and pressed her tense body against him, and lifted her mouth to be kissed.

They kissed long and hard. It was silly to wait, so he lifted her in his arms—she was quite light—and carried her to his bed. The bed was large, of dark oak, and very mussed, but she didn’t care.

He started taking off his jacket and shirt. Laney stared at him for a moment—the hair on his chest really was red and curling—and then with fumbling fingers she began to unbutton her dress. She was giving in. She was giving up. Her instincts were driving her to the waterfall, and she had no choices left. She realised that she wasn’t wearing underwear—when had she decided that?—she couldn’t have known, long ago when she dressed to go out, that she would end up in bed with a man. But everything had changed. She needed a man to mate with her, to screw her, to fuck her. She shucked off the dress as Tibor joined her on the bed.

He led her swiftly though the preliminaries of sex, touching, kissing, probing; “Do you like this?” he said. “And this? And that?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes. Oh, yes.” Her nerves were on fire.

He pressed her onto her back and positioned himself between her legs, but she swiftly rolled over onto her belly and stretched her arms out to clutch the edge of the mattress. “Like this. Please.”

Tibor grabbed two pillows and shoved them under her hips, raising them higher. He ran his warm hands up the length of her calves and thighs, then slid a hand between her thighs to caress her warm core. Laney bit her lip to keep from crying out. She loved to be passive for her mate, to increase his ardour with her submission. He wet his thumb with her flowing juices and circled the thumb gently around her honey-button. A little shriek escaped her lips.

Laney felt her limbs tightening with the anticipation of pleasure, but she willed them to relax. She wanted to postpone her climax until her mate was ready. She wanted to serve him, to let him take his pleasure, because that would delay and intensify her own passion. Her mate—she did not think of him by his name any more—positioned himself behind her and slowly pressed inside. It was the moment of pure ecstasy for her, a mindless animal joy, being impaled on the shaft of a male.

Her submission increased his excitement. He thrust and twisted and rotated her, sometimes lifting her knees off the bed with his force. Laney was losing all control. She tried to remain silent, but her cries seemed to come from some other place deep inside her, far beyond the self. She felt the blood in her ears pounding like surf. Their rocking bodies felt like the sea, its great dumb mass ebbing and flowing above the ancient lineages of mating sea-creatures. She seemed to hear dolphins and whales crying out in her voice; and she too was a creature of the water: she and her mate were plunging through the tumult of the waves, they were rushing toward the edge of the cataract, and then they toppled over.

“Hon! Oh, Hon! Oh, Hon! Oh, Hon! Oh, Hon!”