The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Happy Anniversary

His

To say I had an interesting weekend would be, some might say, an understatement. But not interesting in a bad way, mind you. You see, it was a pretty special anniversary for my girlfriend and me. It was a year since our very first date.

I met Elizabeth at the University. We did some Graduate work in the same department, so she was a vaguely familiar face around the building. A head of luscious, silky, black hair, round and firm C-cups, and smooth, graceful legs that don’t quit. I didn’t know she had any of these at first glance. I always saw her bundled up and her hair in an unflattering bun, but with the weather here up north, so did everyone else. What she couldn’t hide, though, were her bright green eyes and dazzling smile.

We remained acquaintances for a while, and I was too busy to find a reason to change that. A few days a week I would see her reading leisurely in the common lounge, the same place I had grown accustomed to taking breaks to catch up on my e-mails and unwind. Smiles were often exchanged, as well as obligatory greetings, and occasional chit-chat. It wasn’t until spring, and its loosened dress code, that I started to notice Elizabeth in a biblical sense. It was a sunny afternoon in April when I made the first move.

“So, Elizabeth, I wa—”

“C’mon, Mitch,” she said cheerfully “call me Liz.”

“Oh. Sure... So anyway, Liz, would you maybe… want to go out some time.”

Her smile turned coy. “Hmm, I don’t know. What did you have in mind?”

The next night I took her out to a local Chinese place. It might sound hopelessly romantic to say that we sat there talking until closing time, but we did. We hit it off and have been an item ever since.

Over the next year, we both finished school, got jobs and even got a place together. It was soon after we had settled in comfortably together that a strange and fateful topic came up.

“Say babe,” she said on the couch that evening, “what do you know about hypnosis?”

I was caught a little off guard. “Huh? Hypnosis? Uh, not much, I guess… Why do you ask?”

“Well we’re starting a study on it at work, and, well…” She said a little timidly. “I was wondering if you would let me try it out on you.”

Well, I supposed that made sense, given that Liz still did research for the University’s psychology department, though she didn’t usually bring her work home with her… that I knew of. So lucky me, I got to be her personal guinea pig. I’d seen a few stage shows before, but I’d never really given much thought to being on the receiving end of what I had previously considered a parlor trick. I was about to voice my skepticism when I looked at her face. Just by the look in her eyes I could tell my participation was more important to her than she was willing to admit. So I let her give it a try. And wouldn’t you know, she turned out to be pretty good at it!

It took some practice, but I got better and better at being hypnotized. At first I had a little trouble “just letting go,” as she would put it, as I was still a little skeptical about the whole thing. But Liz seemed quite knowledgeable about it, even during her first attempts. I finally decided to trust her, and things took off.

Since I wasn’t one of the official test subjects in her study, her experiments on me were… of less than scientific merit. I‘ll admit, nothing beats coming home to a woman who can make a short back rub feel like a deep tissue massage with a few soft words. And when it was my turn to pick up milk, even though I’d forgotten, as usual, I found myself parked at the supermarket instead of home that night.

For a while, that was about the full of it. We’d be unwinding after a hard day, watching TV on the couch together, or I’d be reading in my chair, chatting idly, and she would strike. Without me even noticing, she’d make some seemingly innocuous remark, and I’d space out a little. Another clandestine phrase and my thoughts would lose all momentum, grinding slowly to a halt under the weight of her hidden triggers. By the time I usually figured out what was going on, Liz would be standing over me, smiling like a cat, right before my eyes closed and I slipped, floated or sank into oblivion.

And that mischievous grin was always the next thing I was aware of when she brought me back up. From there it was a waiting game, just a matter of time until something set off the latest programming. If I could guess correctly what the trigger was, she’d even let me decide if I wanted to keep it. It’s always been in good fun, and it’s kept me on my toes these past couple months.

Then, about a week ago, I was checking my calendar and suddenly realized. “Say, Liz? You know what next weekend is?” I asked, double-checking in my head to be sure.

“What? I don’t remember anything coming up.” She thought for a moment. “Is it your brother’s birthday?”

“No, that’s Tuesday,” I said. “It’ll be a year since our first date. Remember, back at Imperial Wok?”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh my gosh, Mitch! That’s right! I can’t believe you remember that. What are we going to do to celebrate?”

“Let me handle that, baby,” I said in my playful, exaggerated suave voice. “Let me handle everything.”

That got her to giggle, though she looked like she was thinking about something else. I didn’t notice it, already preoccupied with planning for the big night. It might have saved me some grief later if I had.

The next week seemed pretty normal, aside from my laying the groundwork for a romantic evening on Friday, though looking back, it was probably anything but. Liz seemed to have a lot of work to bring home each night, I assumed so that we could have the weekend to ourselves. While she worked, I caught up on my reading; magazines, the paper, library books, articles online. I was content merely to not distract her while she worked. We hardly even talked like we usually did, just when we ate supper together and when we got ready for bed.

It seems strange now, though not at the time, to say that for all the time I spent reading, I didn’t really get much read. I’d often find myself starting the same articles over and over, before realizing I already had read them. An entire evening might disappear before I’d finished more than a few pages. Normally, such a lack of progress and attention span, even during leisure time, would be upsetting. As it was, I barely spared it a thought, and moved on with my routine.

The other thing out of the ordinary, a thing I did notice, was how horny I was all week. Being a guy still in the prime of his life, I still have a pretty strong libido. Hell, the hormonal frenzies of high school and college are still too close for comfort. But for the most part, these days I… had a pretty good handle on it. In an overly suggestive manner of speaking. Liz treats me right when I need it, and I was always happy to reciprocate. But she was occupied with her work all night, so it would hardly have been appropriate to bring it up.

That week though, more than a few times I found myself idly rubbing a surprise in my pants. Every little thing seemed sexier, more exciting, and would launch me into an erotic daydream whenever I lost even a little focus. It had been years since I popped that many spontaneous erections for no reason.

However, it never occurred to me that there was any reason for my agitated state, other than perhaps anticipation of some post-date fun in a few days. I also never gave a thought to giving myself some relief. My arousal slowly became more frequent and insistent, like my boner knew something I didn’t. I should probably listen to him more often. Even so, I decided just enjoy it while it lasted, maybe help it along a little if I was alone, but never thinking to finish.

Finally the big day arrived. Since I usually get home first, I took care of all the menial daily chores, so that there was nothing for us to worry about later. A potentially mood-killing pile of dirty dishes was replaced by a modest, tasteful bouquet of roses I ordered and picked up. Fortunately, Liz got home a little later than normal, so I had the time to get the place and myself cleaned and dressed up for the occasion. My chronic arousal grew even worse the closer the appointed hour approached. Somehow, it was less distracting than it should have been, motivating even.

The front door opened right after I finished. She walked in and spotted the roses just as I came to greet her.

“Aww, Mitch. I love them.”

That was never in doubt, but it was still nice to hear. “I’m glad you do, milady. Happy anniversary.” I gave her a smooch. “Are you ready for a night out?”

She gave me that smile and said, “Just a minute. Let me get myself freshened up.”

Moments after she left the room, I heard the bedroom door close, so I had a seat on the couch. Everything was already taken care of, so I sorta just zoned out, for what seemed like only a second. I was slightly startled by the sound of the bedroom door opening again. I looked down and, much to my surprise, my hand was down my pants, stroking another unsolicited erection. I barely managed to extract it before Liz strolled into the room.

Her stride was confident and sultry, traits that she undeniably deserved. She was wearing her “little black dress” that went down to her knees, a belt with a chrome buckle around her waist. Her black, heeled boots almost met the dress, going up to just below her knees. There was a gold bracelet on each wrist, the crystal butterfly pendant I got her for Valentine’s, and sapphire earrings that sparkled just a bit with every step. Her shade of lipstick reminded me of ripe strawberries, accentuating her petite mouth and matching the color of her freshly painted nails.

“So, Honey Buns, how do I look?”

We haven’t really had occasion to, so I’d never seen Liz so dressed to the nines. And for that reason, I submit that I should be forgiven a little incoherent babbling before I picked my jaw up off the floor.

She winked. “You flatterer.” With that, we headed out.

Our destination was the local Chinese place, the very same one I’d taken her to a year before. What can I say? I’m a hopeless romantic. I had not been idle the last week, though. When we arrived, we were immediately lead to a secluded table in corner. All the lights were dimmed, and candles were lit in the middle of our table.

I was friendly enough with the couple that ran the restaurant and it wasn’t too busy that night anyway, so they happily agreed to play “classy joint” for the evening. We were served small courses of all our favorite dishes, and brought a bottle of wine I had picked up earlier. And true to form, we were there until closing again.

By the time we got home, I was feeling good, satisfied and perhaps a little buzzed from the wine. Elizabeth walked in ahead of me, turned and said “Thank you, Honey Buns. This evening was wonderful.” Then she kissed me. It was a long, delicate, lingering kiss, and one that hinted at an encore.

I was about to say something, when she put her finger on my lips. “And it’s not over yet,” she said, and led me by the collar toward the bedroom.