The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I had never really understood the phrase “butterflies in my stomach,” until I had scheduled a phone session with MzDominica. It had happened in a blurry frenzy of devotion; coming out from under one of her MP3’s, I bounded to my computer, then fervently typing, begging for an hour of Her precious time. Then off to Paypal, to pay for the session. Now, understand that I work in a low-level municipal job, and money is hard to come by. Heh. “Making ends meet” was another cliche I never really understood, that is, until I had to try to do it. But that wasn’t on my mind just then. There was only the need, the craving, the gnawing little ache that got stronger and stronger with every passing moment. Her voice bouncing around in my mind, her beautiful eyes always just in front of me, boring holes into my mind.

Confirmation came a couple of agonizing hours later. Tuesday? 8:00 PM? Done and done. Tuesday? Shit, that was, like, four days away. I knew I’d be crawling out of my skin by then.

Work was ok; I was able to bury myself in tasks so that She only entered into my thoughts every couple of minutes. Off-days, though, those were rough. I’d wake up, and She would be the first thing I’d think about. Ok, rough isn’t the right word. It was rough like having a crush is rough. It invades your thoughts, making you giddy and horny and fanciful, and you feel like you’re burning up inside. It’s that kind of crazy, hormone-infested glee that makes you want to give extravagant gifts and write god-awful love poems. The hard part of a crush is the waiting. Waiting for the briefest glimpse, the shortest and most perfunctory of conversations, the lightest whiff of perfume.

The butterflies are very real. My stomach was churning, going flippy-floppy, pulled tight and unwound like a cat’s cradle made of piano wire. When Tuesday night finally came, I was relieved, not just to be able to speak to Her, but also so that I could bring myself to eat again.

The VCR clock said 8:02 when the phone rang. Jesus Christ, if this is another telemarketer tying up my line, I will go completely fucking off on him.

“Hello?” Mental check: Try not to sound so desperate.

“Josh?” Oh, my God, that voice. Hearing Her voice was akin to a junkie getting a fix just before the shakes get too bad.

“Yes, Mistress, it’s me. How are You?”

“Fine, fine. So, you ready, boy?”

Stop there for a moment and back up. You may be thinking, “This guy’s a few slices short of a full cheese platter,” or perhaps, “Whoa! Josh is a total psycho!” Maybe even, “Josh needs to go out and get laid.” To the last I would reply, “Josh does fairly well in that area already, thank you.” I’ve slept with many women, some of whom I’d even admit to. But not one of them could give me what I really wanted..

You see, in my public life, I manage. I file, I sort, I direct, I supervise. My car is conservative, affordable, and gets decent gas mileage. My home is a tasteful affair, exactly like all the other cookie-cutter homes in my little neighborhood, save for those few populated by the adventurous sort who dare to put mildly tacky lawn sculptures by their gardens. In some fifty years, a few years after my expected death, I’ll even be able to call it mine. By chance or by choice, every aspect of my life was micromanaged, entered into a PDA, and deleted when complete. I wanted something else; I wanted to burn with a zealous passion, I wanted to ache for someone, to not just have a relationship be a merger of personal and financial assets.

There’s a simplicity in being emotionally controlled by someone else. You might even say a purity; Step 1)Domme gains power over me and money, Step 2) I gain the freedom to have a part of my life wherein I’m free to have sexual feelings. Imagine the circles you travel in; now imagine a girl you’re attracted to, and imagine begging to kneel before her and taste her sweet skin. Finally, imagine the look on your face as the cops haul your deviant ass away. For a culture with porn on every home PC, ours is not exactly open to a little adventure. We sure don’t take none a them shenanigans heah.

Anyway, let’s get to the part with MzD. Hypnosis is a fascinating thing, isn’t it? We all grew up with cartoons and sitcoms where the lead is hypnotized, then does something foolish while under the influence, and hilarity ensues. We have our archetypal cliches, the sinister mustache, the “you are getting sleepy,” etc. But there’s more to it. A hypnotist is powerful; she or he can break down the barriers that all of us put up when we construct our outer persona, and affect the person inside, the simple animal unbound by any societal constraints. Consider it from a different angle; what about vampire stories? Vampires are erotic and hypnotic creatures. The Three Sisters of Stoker’s little overheated ode to repression were once normal people; then, Dracula took them, and made them into powerfully sensual animals, unconcerned with mundane shit like schedules or mowing the lawn. That’s what I wanted. I wanted to feel a need so badly that I would push through the boundaries to get it. It’s all right if I’m not acting responsibly for one damn moment of my life.

So I started to look. It’s amazing how if someone makes a buck on the Internet doing something, suddenly everyone’s got to have a piece of it. I swear to Christ, sometimes it felt like a majority of the women God put on this Earth checked out a book on hypnosis from the library, then put up a website. Shopping around, my experiences were less than inspiring.

Domme A) There’s a little-known law of Nature called the Liz Taylor Principle; it states that for some people, NO amount of soft—focus photography is going to make them look attractive. Also known as the Senior Yearbook Principle. Ugh. Picture you in my mind? Somehow, I don’t think so.

Domme B) So far so good. She’s attractive, can string at least four words together into a complete sentence, website looks promising. I buy a CD, and give it a listen. And it does nothing for me. No passion, no burning, nada.

Domme C) Public humiliation? Being shat on? Umm, no thanks. Good luck with that.

And so it goes. Enter MzDomica. My first thought was, “Damn, this woman is hott!” (Extra t for extra hot.) Astounding little bod, finely-sculpted face, and a penetrating gaze. My second thought was, “Damn, she’s a little pricey.” Now, being a cheap bastard by necessity (did I mention my job pays somewhere between jack and shit?), I was ready to dismiss her. but something kept bringing me back to her site. I think it was her eyes. They were haunting, conveying power and sexuality, seeming to stare into the murky depths of my mind.

Biting the bullet, I signed up for Paypal, and ordered a series of MP3’s, enigmatically titled “Captured.” Some twenty hours later (56K modem blues), they were on my hard drive, just waiting for me to push play. My last free thought was, “God, I hope these don’t suck.”

Awake after the first one, I felt soooooooo relaxed, my fingers and toes tingling. I stretched out, slowly coming to in the manner of someone who’s slept in on a Sunday. Things started to come back to me. Her voice, the suit, time and space gone from my mind, and the stillness. My mind actually was still and silent during the induction, which is something I’d never experienced. Pretty amazing, considering I was expecting it to suck ass like all the others I’d tried. This is the one. Elated, I clicked on the next one, and settled in for what would turn out to be a wonderful day.

“Fine, fine. So, you ready, boy?” said with a hint of mischief.

Crap, almost forgot to sit down. Adjusting myself into a comfortable position on the couch, I meekly replied, “Yes, Mistress.”

A word. One single word.

Mistress stands before me and she is so magnificent perfect beautiful i fall to my knees and beg and beg and beg to please Her to serve Her to obey Her She commands me and i am kissing Her beautiful feet and sucking Her magnificent toes grateful to serve grateful to touch the Goddess i must obey Dominica i must obey Dominica i must obey Dominica i must obey Dominica over and over i must obey Dominica i must obey Dominica feels so good She is so beautiful and perfect i must obey Dominica i must obey Dominica i’m so lucky and loyal and i will do anything to please Her She owns me and i am so happy to be owned by Her endorphins pleasure i must obey Dominica i must obey Dominica i am Dominica’s mindless follower obey obey obey obey obey awake

“Holy fuckin’ shit.” It wasn’t the Emancipation Proclamation, but it pretty well expressed my feelings, as I stirred, my extremities tingling and trembling, and oh yeah, there was definitely some business in my shorts.

“That good, huh,” She said laughing. I loved to listen to Her laugh, knowing there was a beautiful seductive smile attached to it.

“Uh, Wow.” Another stirring oration. “That was amazing. Thank you SO much, Mistress.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie. Oh, by the way, you must obey.”

“I must obey Dominica,” I blurted out, automatically stopped in mid-thought. “Damn, You are amazing.”

More sweet laughter as she said goodbye.

Quickly then, I logged on, sending her an e-mail begging for an in-person session. I would travel any distance, pay any amount. And I would’ve too. Her hold on me was so powerful and compelling, just thinking about the session I’d just finished made me hard again. Understand, please, that I never begged before Dominica. I never threw a hissy fit when Mom wouldn’t buy me the GI Joe playset. I offered no pleas to the woman who walked out on me the day I planned to go out and buy a ring. But for Dominica, I begged, and I pleaded, and I offered absolutely anything to Her, whether or not it was in my power to give, and it felt good. It felt good to need Her so badly that I felt like I could move a mountain if She wished it.

Her reply was disheartening, but I understood. She said that that wouldn’t be very responsible at this point for me (we had already previously discussed my financial limits; She was so understanding, my devotion grew stronger still). Also, only a select few could please Her in person. That will be me someday, I swore. I replied back, asking for another phone session instead.

In the period that followed my purchase of the Captured series, I realized the absolute truth of another time-honored chestnut: “You get what you pay for.” How much money had I pissed away on hypnodommes and inductions that simply didn’t work? One-fifty (for four MP3’s) was a mere drop in the bucket compared to the pile of money that I had spent on others, that could have just as easily been flushed down the toilet with equal result. Bottom line: MzD was good. She gave me a taste of what I needed; almost as if by intuition, she knew exactly what was going on in my head. After a week of listening to them, I began to understand at a gut level why subbies refer to themselves using lower case i’s, and superiors using caps. When you are touched by someone of such beauty and power, you just want to be able to show them how magnificent and superior they are. And the images, my God. To have her pop into my mind at odd times, being reminded of her constantly, seeing those eyes in the dark before I fell asleep.

These were kind of the salad days of my training with MzDominica. I listened to her MP3’s and checked out her Yahoo! group. The more she posted, the more I liked her. Unlike dealing with other people, the rules of conduct were simple: please Me, you stay, displease Me, you go. She has a blunt honesty that must be respected, coupled with a brashness and confidence that make Her that much more exciting to me. I understood that She wasn’t just out for a quick buck. I never once got the sense that MzD was just laughing all the way to the bank; She knew, She KNEW, that we were there because we needed these feelings, and that they were important in their own right.

By synchronicity, the Cell series was released, just as I was jonesing for something new from Her. The description of the series made me stop before ordering. “Serious Brainwashing,” it said. Two. Little. Words. How could they inspire both fear and anticipation? I knew She wouldn’t go all Manchurian Candidate on me. I trusted Her enough to know that I wouldn’t end up in a tower somewhere sniping merrily away. So what, then? What’s the problem? The problem, I concluded, was that I was afraid because this would push me to my limits and beyond. That it would change me from mildly fixated to truly devoted. It would take me to that ultimate feeling I’d always wanted, but never imagined was actually possible. Vacillating wildly over the next few days, my internal dialogue over The Cell became a heated argument. (You ever see a guy walking down the street, muttering to himself? That was probably me. Sorry for frightening you.)

Ultimately, there was no doubt which way I’d decide.

The phone rings. I answer.

One single word.

Then a knock on the door.

“God damn it,” I mutter, “I’m so sorry Mistress. Please let me go get rid of them I’ll be right back.” And it could have been the Pope, Ed McMahon, or my Mom, and I would have still told them to fucking get lost.

I gasp as I open the door, then fall to my knees, my head touching the floor. She shuts the door behind her, locks the deadbolt. Mistress pulls my chin up with Her hand. I gaze into Her Magnificent eyes.

I can only manage a “How...?” before I see what’s in Her other hand. A small aerosol canister.

My eyes open wide in shock. “It’s real . . .”

Then I’m blank.

Mistress states on Her website that The Cell will change your life. Mistress has a gift for understatement. As i predicted, i wasn’t turned into a jewel thief or an assassin. What did happen is that my devotion and loyalty to Her increased exponentially.

There’s a moment in the first of the series when you suddenly realize that you’ve let Dominica into your mind, and you can’t get Her out. You don’t want to get Her out. She sprays you with a powerful gas, and suddenly your own mind betrays you. After the first one i was so scared and exhilarated, that i knew i needed to go to the next Cell.

Over and over i listened to them, going so deep each time, feeling the changes, growing more loyal and obedient. “I must obey Dominica,” i could hear my own voice say with complete conviction. Powerful triggers manipulating my body and my mind.

Here was what i always wanted, and i was actually living it. i was burning, i was controlled beyond what i imagined possible, yet i was safe. Work did not suffer, and my bank account did not suffer. i found that if i cut back on frivolous things, like maybe cooking dinner once in a while instead of calling Pizza Hut, i could afford to please Mistress with modest gifts. Nothing too impressive, a small gift certificate here, a pair of stockings there, certainly i was no competition to Her wealthier slaves. But it didn’t matter. What mattered was that i was showing my devotion to Her. And i served in other ways, too. i actually de-lurked and began to participate in the Yahoo! group. i attended chats as often as i could. (Those chats were amazing. She’d trance us, bring us up, then down again, weaving a spell that lingered even during the waking moments of the chat.) i wrote occasional e-mails to Her, praising Her, thanking Her profusely for her control and the freedom i felt to feel something so animal. Just as i had never begged before Dominica, i never expressed such outright worship before Her.

It felt so incredibly good, knowing i was controlled, but safe. She would never hurt me. It’s one thing to read a story on MCstories.com about someone being hypnotized , and then basically being raped while she’s under (it seems to usually be a she in these stories). It’s another to actually do it. Or something similar, like being tricked into doing something that one would never normally do. That would be the act of an evil or immoral person. Mistress is neither evil nor immoral. The danger i feared so much when i was thinking about buying The Cell was in my head alone. i knew, i just knew, i was in good hands. i gave my trust, loyalty, obedience, and devotion, and i was rewarded with pleasure.

My eyes open wide in shock. “It’s real . . .”

Then I’m blank.

The gas works on contact, making me completely helpless and obedient.

“You must obey.”

“i must obey Dominica.”

“You will do anything for me. Say it.”

“i will do anything for You.”

“Dominica owns you. Say it..”

“Dominica owns me.” i’m aware of the sounds i’m making, but they make no sense. Her powerful words fill my mind, and i am oblivious to their sound, but not their meaning. my mind is empty and still, filled only with Her most recent command. Over and over i affirm my loyalty and obedience. Dominica owns me. i must obey Dominica. i am Dominica’s mindless follower. i will do anything for Dominica. i live for Dominica. i would die for Dominica.

“Have you let anyone else into your mind, slave?”

“No, Mistress, only You.”

“Who owns your mind?”

“Dominica owns my mind.”

“Who controls you?”

“Dominica controls me.”

“Who is your only priority?”

“Dominica is my only priority.”

“Who is perfect?”

“Dominica is perfect.”

“Have you noticed, then, that I am the answer to every question? Tell me, slave, who is the answer to EVERY question?”

“Dominica...”

“That’s right. That’s right, Dominica is the answer to all questions. I am Everything. What are you?”

“i am nothing.”

“That’s right, you are nothing without me. And you are nothing until you give yourself to me. Will you give yourself to me?”

Before i could say “Yes, yes, please yes,” before i can give myself to Her willingly, Mistress lifts the aerosol canister up to my face, right up to my face. A small bead of the spray on the nozzle, her finger moves BLANK

BLANK

BLANK

The spray silences all thought, leaving my mind filled with Her, and all the commands She had previously implanted.

i know what to do. Unbidden, i lower myself to the ground, and express my absolute worship of Her by nuzzling, kissing, sucking Her beautiful toes. i know somehow i am free to move on, so i slowly work my way up, from instep to behind the knee, to Mistress’ beautiful thighs to, oh god, her beautiful pussy.

i make love to Mistress’ pussy, intoxicated by the gas, MORE intoxicated by Her perfect scent and taste. Her moans of pleasure, spurring me on and on and on. Hours pass by, and hours will continue to pass by, until i know i have pleased my Mistress. This is what i was born for. All the while, her moans are interspersed with her words, commands, triggers, playing my body, manipulating it. My vision tunnels, and i go deeper, deeper than ever before. My entire world is that heavenly clit.

Her moans grow more persistent, and i can feel little tremors building up inside. Reinvigorated, i attack Her clit, tonguing and licking and sucking, ecstatic as the little tremors get stronger and stronger and stronger and oh God, if i must die, let it be now in this one perfect moment AWAKE

i must’ve jumped a foot off my seat. i awoke disoriented, sweat-soaked, my cock throbbing. Standing up, i tripped over my own numb feet, falling face first onto the carpet, still somehow managing to keep the phone firmly planted to my ear.

Mistress’ divine laughter at the other end of the line.

“Wha...What just happened?”

“I just paid you a little visit, Josh. Did you like it?”

“um, i’m all sweaty.” Great. Another idiotic statement when i’m talking to Mistress.

“Sounds like “yes” to me,” a smile in Her words.

“Yes is the biggest goddamn understatement ever. It was so real, i wish i was still there.”

“You can be again. That is, if you still CRAVE my voice. Do you? Will I talk to you soon?”

“Yes, please, the very moment i can again, i promise.”

“Good boy. Talk to you soon, then. Bye now.”

Fulfillment is a weird thing. my perfect little life was actually perfect now. i was aching inside for Dominica, just as i had always wanted. Going to work, grocery shopping, you name it, i almost felt like laughing out loud, because i was complete, and the whole world was oblivious to my bliss. Suddenly, the cookie-cutter house and the conservative car didn’t seem so stifling. i had something that transcended all of that. And i could revisit it any time i wanted; after all, it was inside me.