The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

As I walked into the bedroom, she was sitting at the desk, laptop open, focused on email. I quietly removed a few items from my backpack and perched on the edge of the night table, just to her right.

I flicked the lighter and she turned in surprise towards the sound and the sudden flame. Her eyes locked on it immediately and followed it as I slowly moved it left, right, left right.

“You’ve always been fascinated by fire,” I said. “I know that. You find it deeply soothing, so relaxing to look into a flame. I have something special to show you now, something that you will find captivating, fascinating.”

Her eyes remained fixed on the flame as I tipped the beeswax candle into it and the wick caught. She followed the new, growing flame as I set the candle down on the desk, secure in the little base I’d made for it.

“See how the flame feeds gently from the beeswax, how it grows. Looking into its depths, you can see so much more than the simple yellow. The transparent inner core. The hint of blue. A hundred shades of yellow, straw, tan. It draws you in, holds your attention, just as it draws gently from the wax.”

Her eyes were locked onto the flame. She’d been captivated from the first, primed by other inductions, by conversations about my hypnotizing her with a candle; by her own experiences, relaxing, drifting, dreaming by candlelight or in front of a fire.

“And as you gaze into the flame, it holds you, captures all of your attention, so that there is nothing but the flame and the sound of my voice, relaxing you, taking you deeper and deeper. I know you’ve always been fascinated by candles, just as you are by this one. As you drift and dream, I want you to imagine that I am an associate, a coworker, someone you have known for a while. I’m familiar, you see me all the time, but there’s always a faint erotic tension in the air. Nothing has ever happened between us, but there has always been an unspoken mutual acknowledgement of one another, an unmentioned attraction that has always been suppressed, deep in the background of our relationship.”

I saw a subtle change in her expression as she processed this.

“And as you continue to relax, you will come to understand that this is a very special candle, one that has great power, not only to hypnotize, but to affect you in other ways. For this candle was made by a sect of monks in a monastery in the Middle East, pure beeswax from the hives of bees that they keep on their property. (This much was true; she probably remembered that a Coptic priest had given me these candles in return for a favor I’d done him.) But the wax from this candle came from a hive that had lost its queen, and as you know, the hive dies unless it gains a new queen. The bees work frantically to produce powerful pheromones that will attract a new female. Those pheromones are in this wax and they are being liberated by the flame.”

I saw that her eyes had closed and her head had fallen slightly forward. Her body was relaxed, her eyes moving beneath their lids.

“These pheromones are a powerful sexual attractant and can draw a female bee from miles away. Once she picks up the scent, she is powerless to resist, she is drawn to the hive, ready to mate. You can still see the candle in your mind’s eye; see it flickering, see its soft, comforting light, even feel the glow of its warmth on your face. You can sense the pheromones being released. Centuries ago, the monks discovered that these pheromones have a powerful effect on human women too, kindling an insatiable sexual desire, an undeniable, irresistible arousal. And that is why these candles are only made by, only handled by men.”

“With each breath you take, you relax more, going deeper and deeper, and with each breath you draw in more of these powerful pheromones. You can feel them at work deep inside you, affecting you deeply, growing stronger and irresistibly stronger.”

As I continued in this vein, I could see the color in her cheeks. Her breathing had changed, too—her lips slightly parted, with the subtle change in their shape that signaled her arousal. She squirmed slightly in her chair and her breaths were punctuated by occasional low, sexual moans. Each “Nnnh!” thrilled me; she was clearly enthralled.

“There’s nothing you want more, nothing you need more, than to satisfy the burning desire within you, to consummate this long-smoldering relationship, to let it burst into passionate flame.”

I moved behind her chair and swiveled her around to face me. I took her hand and she rose, as if weightless, in a single, smooth motion, into my arms. We kissed deeply, her mouth hungry, her breath coming fast, hard, excited. She moaned again as her hips ground against me. My hands roamed over her breasts and she gasped with pleasure, as if I’d never touched her before. Holding her wrists, I lifted both arms over her head. I slid my hands up her arms, all the way to her fingertips, to wordlessly convey, “leave them there.” I found the hem of her form-hugging sleeveless black sweater and lifted gently. I pulled the neck forward so it wouldn’t drag on her face. We embraced again and kissed more. She pushed me back, opened her eyes and looked wonderingly at me, as if seeing me for the first time or in a whole new light. I bent down to kiss the soft swell of her upper breast and her eyes closed again as she slowly pulled her head back, shaking out her hair over her shoulders, inviting me to continue up her neck. We kissed some more, still standing between the desk and the bed.

I slid my hands up from her slender lower back to her bra and she stiffened for a moment as I reached the clasp.

“The pheromones are so strong; you want me more than you’d ever realized,” I half-whispered.

I felt the acquiescence as she kissed me deeply and I worked the little hooks, the bane of every man’s existence. As her bra fell to the floor, a shy arm came up across her breasts, like Botticelli’s Venus. I kissed the generous swells above her arm and it slowly dropped. I buried my face in her generous, soft breasts. In a way, it was unfair, because I knew every inch of her body, all her sensitive spots, all the right ways to touch her, but to her I was a brand-new experience. Her pleasure was evident and I wanted to devote some attention to her breasts, but thought it better to continue the suggstion, build the illusion.

“This is all so new, so incredible,” I said. “You’re so passionate. Everything you’d imagined, and more.” Her moan was lost in my mouth as she kissed me again, pulling up my shirt, running her hands up my back beneath it. She was writhing, grinding against me, and this was no time to linger. I unzipped her jeans and wriggled them down over her slim hips. I laid her back on the bed with soothing, arousing hypnotic words and told her that in a moment she would open her eyes and see the candle once more. I held the candle before her and said, “Open your eyes.”

She stared at the candle, heavy-lidded, as I moved it to each side and back to the center.

“The flame takes you deeper, even deeper as the pheromones course through you, their effect growing more powerful by the moment. Deeper, stronger, irresisistibly stronger.”

Her eyes closed again and her moan had an unmistakable, I-want-you urgency to it as I slipped off her little bikini panties. Her hips lifted effortlessly, with no prompting. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” I said. “You’ve wanted this for so long.”

I quickly blew out the candle, removed my clothes, and knelt between her legs. “Touch me now,” I said. “Feel my hardness, my desire for you.” Her touch was tentative, exploratory. I was throbbing eagerly, reacting to her touch. She was wet with her own anticipation. I traced the line of dew with my finger and heard her sharp intake of breath.

I entered her and she made a wordless, joyous exclamation. We often start slowly. This was not to be one of those times. In her mind she was consummating a relationship that had been simmering for years, potentiated by the incredible, aphrodisiac effect of the candle. Propriety, restraint, self-control, had all been cast to the wind. Her body demanded and devoured me; her first orgasm followed quickly.

As her orgasm subsided, I moved slowly and gently in her as she caught her breath. Soon she took up my slow rhythm, moving easily with me. We rocked together harder, deeper, faster, until she was off on another orgasmic ride. When she had caught her breath again, I whispered more hypnotic, erotic words in her ear. Deeper, I said. The pheromones, the desire, the wanting. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was saying, but it was working. I kissed her ear, her neck, her mouth, her throat, and the creamy, sensitive expanse of her upper breast. Still hard inside her, I took a nipple in my mouth and tongued it hard. She bucked under me and our hard lovemaking resumed anew. I was squeezing her other nipple firmly, gently, between thumb and forefinger, and both were evidently sending strong messages to Orgasm Central. Her voice went up in a keening cry as I finally had to let go and devoted my full attention to slamming into her, hard and fast. Her cries went up the scale into a lovely, orgasmic explosion, so strong that it nearly swept me along. I fought down the urge to join her, to empty myself into her. I had more lovemaking in mind, and didn’t want to be spent too soon.

We made love in that fashion a few more times, until we were both breathing hard. We parted briefly for a sip of water. She looked up at me through langourous, half-lidded eyes, smiling. I leaned down and kissed her as her arms slipped softly around my neck.

“You know, you’re still hypnotized,” I said. “Nothing has released you from your earlier trance, and in fact the pheromones are still strong within you.”

She looked a little surprised at first, then her eyes looked heavy as she half-whispered, “Yes....”

I relit the candle and held it before her. As before, her eyes were drawn to it immedately, locked on. I moved it left, right, left, right and her eyes tracked it, the rest of her immobilized. I felt a new swell of arousal as I sensed the depth of her trance and my “power” over her.

My voice was low, compelling. “That’s right, deeper and deeper, eyes closing now, closing, deeper and deeper into that warm, sensual, enveloping trance. The pheromones raging within you, demanding, insisting.”

I watched as her body relaxed and tensed with sexual energy at the same time.

“I’m going to speak three words to you now, three words that will have a powerful effect on you, three incredibly powerful words....”

I paused.

“You are mine.”

She made a love-sound low in her throat that set off a thrill in me. I sensed that she wanted me and that she probably wanted hard, fast lovemaking to quench the flame I’d just ignited. But I entered her again, changed my angle until I was moving almost frictionlessly in her, perfectly aligned, and started stroking very slowly, the entire length of me, the entire depth of her. We both enjoyed this style of gliding, slow stroking enormously, and it seemed like no lovemaking would be complete without it. I don’t know how it fit into the fantasy I’d created, but from the way she reacted, it definitely wasn’t a problem.

The first time I’d made love to her that way I noticed that she was so focused on the sensations that her expression was ethereal, otherworldly, as though she might be having an out-of-body experience. Except that the experience was most emphatically in-body.

“You’re hypnotized,” I had said to her.

She’d looked up at me in surprise. “I don’t feel hypnotized.”

“Ah, but you are. Notice how every sensation is focused on the slow, easy way I’m stroking you, the long, deep, langourous movements. How, just a moment ago, you were someplace far away, someplace dreamy, just you and the incredible pleasure I’m bringing to you.”

She made a small sound that might have been agreement.

“And as I continue to stroke you so slowly, so deeply, you find that every part of your body is relaxing, every part of you is focused on the intense pleasure you’re feeling right now.”

She had gone into a trance that first time, reveling in and puzzling through the contrast of being incredibly aroused and incredibly relaxed, until the cumulative pleasure blew her away, in a spectacular orgasm.

Since then, we’d been down the relaxed/aroused road many times, so that the slow stroking entranced her from the outset and any deepeners and intensity doublers that I whispered in her ear were icing on the cake.

This time, however, there was no question in my mind or hers that she was hypnotized and that I was using the power of the trance to enhance the pleasures she was experiencing. It made me feel like we were as bonded mentally as physically. Inside her body, inside her mind. Doing everything I could to maximize her pleasure and mine. I moved slowly in her, as slowly as I could and her face was the perfect image of sensual pleasure. Color in her cheeks, eyes closed, lips full, slightly parted with passion.

I took her left arm by the wrist and brought it up over her head. I pressed it against the bed and said, “I bind you here.” I did the same thing with her right arm and then held myself above her, looking down at her beautiful face, feeling a heady, delicious sort of power. I attuned myself to the heat of her womanhood and how good it felt to be inside her. I moved slowly, just the way she liked, and reveled in the sensations. Giving her pleasure has always been one of my greatest pleasures, and the currents were definitely flowing in both directions.

I leaned close and said, “As I count to three, all of the wonderful sensations you’re feeling, all of the pleasurable feelings, will grow twice as strong. As I say three, your pleasure will double”

I could feel the change in her body, her breathing, her movement as she anticipated the forthcoming surge.

“One...” I stroked a little deeper, a litte more firmly. Her hips rose to take me in deeper.

“Two...” She was writhing beneath me.

“Three!” Her wordless sounds and eager movements told me that an orgasm was imminent. My movements matched hers as she thrashed, straining against her invisible bonds. Her face showed the beautiful agony of her coming. She cried out, wracked by the pleasures coursing through her.

She managed to find her voice. “Kiss me,” she said in a low, sultry tone.

I leaned close to her. Our lips met. We kissed greedily, thoroughly. I moved gently in her while we kissed. I felt her body straining against the invisible bonds.

“Release me,” She half-whispered.

A feeling came over me quite unlike any I’d experienced in our lovemaking. Normally I would let her pleasure, the needs of her body, guide us both. Right now, though, I felt the power of the trance, of calling the shots, of being in control.

“No.”

The word hung in the air between us, surprising me as much as it did her. “No, I can’t do that. You’re deep in trance. You are bound. You are mine.”

She moaned in pleasure as I resumed the slow stroking. Minutes went by; she was on the verge, then well past the verge of another orgasm. She was a tightly coiled spring of sexual energy, seeking release.

“I release you completely,” I said.

She reacted instantly, arms grabbing me, pulling me deeper into her, making love to me emphatically, finding her release in another body-wracking orgasm.

We wound down slowly enjoying the aftershocks. I remained hard inside her, saving my orgasm, savoring all of hers.

After she’d caught her breath, I said, “You’re going to turn onto your tummy now,” I said, in the quiet, direct form of a hypnotic suggestion. She turned over smoothly and I slipped my knees between hers. As she opened her thighs to take me in I lay on top of her, feeling the swell of her bottom against my tummy, lifting a strand of her her hair so I could kiss her cheek and lips.

I entered her and felt the deliciously different sensations, the different pressures and friction points. She lifted her hips as I reached under her, fingers sliding down through her soft curls to her engorged lips. I pressed, squeezed, swirled, I drew her upright so we were both kneeling, Movement was limited, but the sensations were extraordinary. She dropped down to the bed again, hips in the air. I started moving strongly in her and she cried out in pleasure. She came up to her hands and knees as I continued to kneel behind her. I knew that she had some reservations about that position. It lacked intimacy, she’d said, but she began banging me in earnest, slamming back against me. I grabbed her hips and met her, thrust for thrust. Her back ran with sweat, her head was thrashing, her sounds sweetly unintelligible. She was out of control, on an unstoppable orgasmic ride.

She swept me up in her passion and I pushed her down to the bed again. I was out of control now, too. She felt my impending orgasm, heard my rasping breath, my clutching hands. We poured fuel on one another’s fires, piled high the explosives, lit the fuse, and gave ourselves over to the energies we’d created, bigger than both of us. We were consumed. Complete.

As we rested in one another’s arms I released her from the trance. After all our activity, there were probably only vestiges of it remaining, but it’s always good to end it properly. We whispered loving words back and forth, held each other tight, and reveled in the closeness.

I asked her about the experience, the candle, the seduction.

“Oh, that was incredible,” she said. “It wasn’t hard for me to imagine that we were coworkers, the attraction, the pent-up desire. Because that was kind of our situation once.”

“And the candle... it captivated me. It was just the right thing, just the right way to draw me into the fantasy.”

“When you asked me to release you and I said no?”

She cuddled closer. “Oh, that was so amazing! The whole power of the trance, the out-of-control feeling of being bound came roaring back, even stronger.”

I smiled. “And the pheromones, the aphrodisiac effect?”

She smiled back, almost sheepish. “That was much stronger than I expected it to be. I could feel it arousing me.”

I told her once again what a fine, erotic imagination she had and complimented her on having become such a good hypnotic subject. “So you think we should add the candle to our hypnoerotic bag of tricks?”

“Definitely,” she said, and hugged me tightly.