The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Christie checked the clock on the wall. Michelle should be getting to the apartment at any minute. She only had another fifteen minutes with this patient, a twenty-six year old man who had been referred to her by the courts six weeks earlier. She somewhat unwillingly turned her thoughts from Michelle and returned her attention to the man on the couch, whose eyes were open, staring at the spiral on the ceiling. His pants were off, and his cock stood at half-mast. Denied sexual release under hypnosis was very effective in ingraining commands. “Excellent, Scott. It is time to recite your lesson. Now, who is your wife?”

“She... she... is... my...” This was a difficult one. He’d been resisting this particular suggestion very strongly. He always fought to avoid saying the word, but he’d been getting closer the last two sessions.

“Very well, Scott. Think of your wife now, she cares for you and takes care of you. Yes, remember what happens when you think pleasant thoughts of your wife... Feel it now.” He moaned, and his cock began to fill even more. “Now your wife has told you something that you don’t like. What happens?”

“That stupid bit—” he angrily began.

Christie immediately interrupted, “Feel what happens to your body, your manhood, your virility when you think bad things, Scott.” His cock began to shrink at the negative thought. This was good.

“N-n-n-nooo,” he protested feebly, distracted from his rage, yet unable to make his penis stay erect.

“This will always happen when you think bad things about your wife. When you want to hurt her, you lose your manliness, Scott. There is a solution,” she cajoled.

“I-I-I want to think good thoughts. Must think good thoughts. Must think good thoughts,” he repeated, and slowly his cock rose again.

“But she’s telling you something you don’t want to hear, Scott.” His cock twitched, threatening to go flaccid again, but he began to repeat his mantra aloud. “It’s what you’re thinking, not what you’re saying that causes you to lose your manhood, Scott.” It started to shrink faster. “You must believe the good thoughts, behave as the good thoughts dictate, and only then will you have your virility back. Viagra will not help; only good behavior from good thoughts will allow you to get it up.” He was whimpering as he felt his sex drive failing. “You can change it, Scott. Now, who-is-your-wife?“ she demanded.

“She is... she... she... she is... my... my... My Mistress,” he sighed.

Christie quickly said, “Fully erect, so ready, can’t stop it now, so virile, so big, swelling so much and you must release now!” His penis grew to its full extension, he groaned, then gasped as his orgasm started without having been touched. His forceful spurts continued for about a minute, and then he sighed in bliss, a sated smile on his face.

“Yes, completely relaxed, now feeling so good, so warm and relaxed, Scott, thinking about your Mistress, your wonderful wife, your Mistress, and you will feel this way when you please your Mistress, and listen to me tell you all the wonderful things about your wife, your beautiful Mistress...” Christie continued her seductive, submissive litany for a few minutes, and then made him clean himself up, get dressed, and forget any details about the session. “Scott, I will send a report to the court in another month if you continue to make this type of progress. Do you feel that our sessions are helping you with your issues?”

Scott looked at her, thinking. “Yeah,” he finally said. “Yeah, I think you’re helping, Doc, and I ain’t just sayin’ that to be sayin’ it so’s you’ll write me up good. I had lots of doubts about a lady shrink, but I seem to be doin’ good with this visualization thing you’re teaching me.” She sent him out of the inner office to make another appointment with Sharon. Her methods were unorthodox, but highly effective.

After she heard the office door shut, she told Sharon to hold all calls. Christie had a gap between appointments, and hoped that Michelle had made it home on time.

Michelle arrived home while Christie and Sharon were still at work. She unpacked in a hurry, hoping to surprise Kenny before her roommates got home. She’d been having strange, but sexy dreams during the whole time in New York. She was beginning to wonder if her arm would fall off as she masturbated furiously in the privacy of her hotel room. Michelle had no way of knowing that her roommate had triggered those dreams with nightly phone calls, priming her with images of Kenny catering to her every sexual whim, at her slightest expression. Right now, Kenny was on Michelle’s mind. She couldn’t ever remember a longer flight home, even though they arrived right on time. The phone rang, interrupting her thoughts, causing her to exclaim, “Shit!” She did not want any interruptions right now. “Hello?”

“Michelle’s magical mystery tour,” the voice on the phone said, and Michelle lost all sense of everything except that voice. “Welcome home, slave,” Christie chuckled. “Tell me about your dreams during your trip. Tell me everything.”

“Yes... Mistress,” Michelle blankly replied. “I dreamed that I was Kenny’s... owner. He would do anything I wanted him to. Even sexually. It made me feel very, very horny. I... I... masturbated every night, thinking of him.”

“Thinking of him in what way?”

Michelle hesitated, but her programming was too strong. “As... As my... slave. I liked having him as my slave. It made me very, very sensitive, mistress.”

“And how were you dressed in your dreams, slave?”

“I was dressed normally. Except for... except for...” Christie commanded Michelle to recall her dream in detail. “I was using... a cigarette holder,” she said, with more than a bit of wonder in her voice. “I’ve never used a cigarette holder...”

Christie decided to change the subject before Michelle used that to gain enough leverage to snap out of trance. In addition, the thought of Michelle with a holder made her breathe a little faster. She could be very sexy, and very dangerous with one. “Is Kenny home yet?”

“No, Mistress. I don’t see his car.”

“Then this is what you must do: you will come to the office and wait for me with Sharon. Afterwards, we will go shopping for some sexy things for you to wear. You will be doing this to surprise Kenny, and to help make your dreams come true. You will not remember this phone call; if anyone should ask, you are going for a girls’ night out with Sharon and me. When I hang up the phone, you do the same, then have a relaxing cigarette as the phone call fades from your mind, and you will awaken, happy that the three of us are going out together, and we will plot a surprise for Kenny with you. Slave Michelle, you must obey.”

“I... must... obey... I am... your... slave. I must obey, I am your slave,” Michelle began to repeat, triggered by Christie’s last phrase. Christie felt another swell of sexual excitement at the mental picture of Michelle in the apartment. She hung up the phone, smiling. Directed imaging in dreams was very effective. That was how she would manipulate Michelle into a position where Kenny would respond to her instinctively, leaving himself completely defenseless against Christie. Her clit throbbed again, causing her to check the clock. Damn. There wasn’t enough time before the next patient to have Sharon attend to her needs. Christie sighed. She couldn’t take Kenny away from Michelle; that would be downright evil. She loved Michelle as a friend and as a lover—even if Michelle wasn’t consciously aware of her bisexuality. However, she could easily—persuade—her friend to loan him to her on occasion.

“So, you guys are gonna help me out?” Michelle eagerly asked as they left Christie’s office.

“What are friends for?” Sharon grinned. “Of course we’ll help you out.”

“Y’know, I think he could be the one,” Michelle chirped happily.

“Slow down, Michelle,” Christie counseled. “You’ve only had what-one date? He is awful cute, though. I hope he’s as nice to you as he’s been to us so far.”

“He will be,” Michelle replied with a big smile. They went to a couple of plus size stores that advertised sexy wear, and then to dinner where they chatted about lots of things. When Sharon got up to head for the ladies’ room, Michelle pulled Christie aside. “Ummm... Christie? Can I ask you something... something professional?”

“Sure. I’ll even do it for free, as long as I don’t have to go into the office,” Christie answered with a giggle. She had a nice little buzz going on. There was going to be some serious playing in the house tonight. She’d been horny ever since thinking about Michelle and Kenny, and watching Sharon and Michelle smoke all night hadn’t helped at all. “Is there a problem?”

“Well... I’ve started having weird dreams about Kenny,” Michelle confessed. “Not bad or anything. In fact, I’d have to say they were sexy dreams.” Christie said something about her liking him. “Well duh. But I was acting—sort of—weird in these dreams, and so was he. We were sort of dressed kinky, and he was like, my slave, and I was really getting off on it. I’ve never dreamed or thought about things like that before, never ever! Am I going insane?”

Christie laughed. “No, but some part of you is worried that you two may not stay together, even though you really want him to be ‘the one.’ If he was your slave, he couldn’t go anywhere except where you want him to. The kinky feeling you get is probably because you were horny for him, and that put the master/slave relationship into a sexual context. I wouldn’t worry about it too much.” She smiled and gave a wave of dismissal. “Now, if you come home from shopping tonight with a whip and chains... Then I would say you have some issues and may need to see a shrink. I know a real good one.” They both laughed.

Christie lay next to Sharon as they shared an after-sex Saratoga. Sharon was still entranced, while Michelle lay sprawled at the foot of the bed, masturbating, awash in hypnotic bliss. Christie idly stroked Sharon’s body as she watched her best slave exhale slowly through her nose. It had been a wonderful show to this point. Michelle had wielded the dildo with great enthusiasm on Sharon. Christie had watched the proceedings with interest, finally stopping Michelle to rearrange positions. Sharon’s face was at Christie’s pussy, where her well-trained lover went to work, while she was still being fucked by Michelle. Sharon had already had one orgasm. Christie put her hand between Sharon’s legs and began to rub. “Let’s watch Michelle, slave,” she whispered. As Michelle got closer to orgasm, Sharon did, too. “When Michelle comes, you will too, you will feel her passion, her heat, her hunger, her need for release, and your mistress will provide it, that’s right, she’s getting closer and closer...” Michelle’s legs began to vibrate and she gurgled on orgasm’s precipice. Christie kissed Sharon deeply, and both her slaves came, softly, but powerfully. Michelle melted onto the king-size bed after hers had finished, while Sharon continued kissing Christie until her body could take no more stimulation, and with a groan, her body went slack, chest heaving, eyes closed. Christie smiled; that was how she liked her sex slaves; wrung out and in the depths of trance. A tingle meant that she could have stood to do more, but neither Michelle nor Sharon was in any condition to take care of her. Maybe that’s what Kenny would be useful for. She wondered what Nina would have said.

“So, Miss Black, it would seem that I am your new faculty advisor,” Dr. Nina Semzidakis said with a smile from across the table at her house. “Dr. Burnett will be leaving at semester’s end, and he recommended that I become your advisor. I like to know my graduate students as people, not just lowly-paid research and teaching help, and that’s why I’ve invited you here.” The professor’s slight Greek accent lent a musical lilt to her voice, and she was very easy to talk to. That introductory evening spanned several glasses of wine and several cigarettes. Nina smoked extremely long, brown, unfiltered cigarettes. Christie had to double-check to see if they were cigarettes and not cigars; they made her Saratoga 120s look short, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask. A few months later, Christie was having a working dinner at Nina’s place on a Friday night, which was a normal occurrence: Nina kept her research notes for her book at home, and did a lot of the writing there. Christie was fascinated by the woman’s psychosocial research and felt that she was gaining valuable experience. The thought of getting a Ph.D. didn’t seem to be as scary with Nina as her advisor. “Well, that’s enough for tonight,” Nina said. “It’s been a good night; you’ve helped me organize the focus for chapter 2. I’m sorry if I’ve kept you from enjoying the things that young people enjoy on Friday nights,” Nina apologized.

Christie smiled at the matronly, dark-haired woman. “That’s OK, Nina. I was probably going to spend it at home studying for Cleamons’ exam next week. He hates me.” Nina clucked sympathetically and offered Christie an ouzo, telling her that Cleamons hated anyone who didn’t do laboratory science. Christie nodded, “Psychobiology is not what I want to do; I want to work with people. I know this might sound trite, but I’d like to help people find their way when they lose it.” Grinning, she added, “And I can make a decent living at it.” The two women talked about several things late into the evening, as friends were wont to do, until Christie reached into her purse to find... “Oh, crap! I’m out of cigarettes, but I’m having too much fun to leave.” Nina suggested that Christie smoke one of hers, and even presented her with a short holder, saying that some people were bothered by tobacco crumbs. Christie accepted with hesitation, wanting to continue the conversation, but intimidated by the cigarette. The box said, “Nat Sherman’s 164.” She was very surprised to find that it was very smooth, tasted almost sweet, and was easy to smoke. After picking tobacco crumbs off her tongue and lips following her first couple of puffs, she placed it in the holder, smiling, “You’re right, Nina. I don’t like loose tobacco in my mouth.” Christie took a long draw, enjoying the smoke, exhaling slowly, playing with the holder out of habit.

“You look like you’ve used one of those before, Christie,” Nina correctly noted. “And I don’t mean at a Halloween costume party.” Christie took a long drag, tilted her head back and exhaled slowly through her nose, just like she used to do with Jamie. “That was most uncommon,” Nina murmured. “Although judging by the expression on your face, and the lack of a comment, I’d say that you were in a memory fugue just then.”

The accuracy of the observation startled Christie back to the real world. “Oh... yeah. An old boyfriend used to like to watch me smoke. Looking back, I guess he had a smoking fetish,” she explained, careful to use the technical term, and equally careful to give her voice a note of finality.

“So he left you, and you felt a little let down because you—enjoyed being the focus of his smoking fetish. You probably thought that the attraction would be strong enough to keep him around,” Nina observed. Seeing her student’s shocked expression, she followed up with, “This is what you want to do, Christie, so you’d better learn how to work with verbal and non-verbal cues.” Christie sighed and nodded. “Have you since found a new boyfriend, or even had a few dates with the same person?”

Shaking her head, Christie said, “No. I’ve been too busy studying and all that. It’s all I can do to keep up with work and school.” Nina chose that moment to take a somewhat regal drag and exhale, reminding Christie of Joan Collins in Dynasty. “So, I haven’t really-ummm-paid any attention to it.”

“Yes, you have, Christie. You can’t deny yourself like that. We are all sexual beings; it’s a biological imperative as well as possessing very strong psychological and social components.” Christie watched Nina take another drag and got lost in her mentor’s aura for a moment. Nina looked at her strangely. “Christie,” she said, her voice turning soft and husky, “I’m going to ask you a question, and I’d like an honest answer. Have you ever had feelings for—a woman?”

“Ummm... ummm...” The ouzo suddenly made Christie feel very hot. Nina asked the question again, evenly, softly. “Well... there was this one time...” Christie began, recalling the incident with Sharon during their senior year.

“Next question, then,” Nina interrupted. “Have you ever thought about indulging those feelings? Trying something—different?”

“Nina, are you—” Christie started, frightened that she was having this conversation with a woman who held absolute power over not only her present, but her future as well.

“There are no strings attached, Christie, I assure you, whatever you might think. Should you decide to proceed, there are going to be certain rules concerning discretion—in order to protect us both. However, I give you my word as your friend that there will be absolutely no repercussions should you choose not to explore the—other side of your sexual being with me.” Nina made no movement towards her; there was nothing remotely sexual about the situation except the conversation.

The heat from the ouzo had spread south. It had been forever since she’d been sexually involved with a person, and her body, no, her mind, was telling her to take advantage of this opportunity. “Will you keep this... private?” Christie asked in a small voice. Nina nodded solemnly, and held out her hand. Christie rose, a little unsteady, and allowed Nina to lead her upstairs, past the bedroom with its unmade bed. The professor opened another door down the hall. Christie gasped involuntarily at the array of sexual toys around the room and the graphic images of woman-woman love on the walls. “Nina... I...” Her stomach turned flip-flops.

“Shhhh...” her mentor counseled. “Now is not the time for questions or worries,” she smiled. Christie shivered at her gentle touch. “You are so wonderfully—feminine and beautiful. Without even trying. Even on my best days when I was younger, I couldn’t look as good as you. I was always... a handsome woman.” Christie protested Nina’s evaluation of herself, feeling anxious to see where this would lead, all the while desperately seeking a way out of this situation. “Would you like a taste of my cigarette? Maybe it will help put you more at ease.” Christie felt Nina gently turn her so that they were face to face, still not quite believing what was happening. Nina took a deep draw from the long brown cigarette and exhaled towards Christie’s mouth. Surprised that Nina hadn’t offered the cigarette, Christie instinctively inhaled the smoke but as she went to exhale, Nina’s face was right there and suddenly, Christie was kissing her first woman. The world spun crazily, and her denied sexuality broke loose. She was kissing Nina back, aggressively, hungrily, and felt her body ready itself for sex. “Not so fast,” Nina chuckled. “It’s not like that with a woman, my dear girl.”

“Then teach me how,” Christie panted. “I want to learn.”

Christie began to stimulate herself a little more vigorously as the memories continued to play...

That first time wasn’t just an experiment, for Christie and Nina became lovers as well as colleagues. One night, about a year after that first night together, they were sharing post-sex cigarettes in the “playroom”, as Christie had named it. Nina had bought a brand new sex toy, a Sybian, the “vibrator to end all vibrators,” as she called it. Nina was highly sexed, and the Sybian promised pleasure when Christie wasn’t available. Or vice versa, since Christie had spent the last hour discovering that it wasn’t all just marketing hype. “Nina, can I ask you a question?”

“Yes, dear?”

“I’ve really enjoyed the things we’ve done, and all the times we’ve made love, and everything you’ve taught me. And that thing,” she indicated the Sybian with a half-laugh, “could be downright addictive. But it doesn’t quite do—everything.” Nina rolled over to look at her lesbian lover, and asked her to be explicit. “Well, I don’t want to seem ungrateful, and I think I’ve answered all my internal questions about my sexual orientation, but sometimes I just want to be fucked. Y’know, like with a cock.”

“There are very few human beings who are purely heterosexual or purely homosexual, Christie. Sexual orientation is more of a sliding scale from one to ten, with one being purely het, and ten being perfectly gay. So that shouldn’t bother you. If you’re between three and eight, that’s wonderful.” She playfully stroked Christie’s nipple. “More variety. As for myself, at the moment I suppose I’m somewhere above nine on that scale, but I’ve floated between seven and nine for most of my life.” She moved to a kneeling position. “But if you wanted to be fucked, you should have asked me sooner. I can do that.” Nina went to a drawer and removed something with all kinds of straps on it. She stepped into it with a practiced ease; Christie couldn’t figure out which way was up just by looking at it. Once that had been assembled and all the straps cinched, Nina removed a very lifelike phallus from the same drawer. “Will medium do?” she smiled. As much as Christie liked head, the gentle sex that she shared with Nina, and all of her mentor’s other sex toys, the sensation of intercourse (albeit with a dildo in a harness) left her seeing stars, barely able to breathe. “If you can find a man who can do that to you, then you may find yourself sliding back towards the middle. Unfortunately, men’s penises have nerves in them, and it makes it difficult for them to concentrate entirely on your pleasure.”

Christie gasped in the present; she’d been masturbating to the memories of the time she shared with Nina, and was on an orgasmic climb. Sharon and Michelle were still unconscious, so Christie closed her eyes and let herself drift back in time again...

“Nina, I think I have a smoking fetish,” Christie confessed over another working dinner.

Nina laughed. “Going straight to diagnosis are we?”

“I’m serious,” Christie urgently said. “I saw this beautiful girl smoking a long cigarette outside Dixon today. I watched her, and I felt myself get wet. Am I turning into a freak? I mean, I saw her in Dixon, and it was like, ‘Oh, she’s cute,’ but nothing special. Then, after ten o’clock class, I’m having a smoke, and here she comes with her friends, pulls out a pack of Mores, lights up, and all of a sudden... zing! I’m feeling kind of like I do when I’m with you.” Nina considered that a moment, and asked she’d ever felt that on seeing a More before. “No... I can’t say that I have, although it’s not like I see beautiful women smoking them everywhere.”

“Do you still feel a thrill, even after the fact?” Nina queried. Christie thought about it for a moment, then said yes with certainty. She had learned to be candid about sexuality with Nina, who had pointed out that it was going to be a valuable job skill in Christie’s chosen profession. “Let’s go upstairs. I can’t concentrate on work when you’re broadcasting arousal and availability signals like this.” With Nina kissing her body as she rode the Sybian, Christie felt her orgasm approach. Nina told her to close her eyes and visualize the girl outside Dixon Hall, the way she held her cigarette, and the way she smoked it, concentrating on every last detail. Christie’s orgasm hit her almost immediately with gale force; she shot off the machine and fell into Nina’s arms, limp and gasping for breath. “That may have been unscientific, but I’d say it confirms your self-diagnosis,” Nina whispered as she stroked Christie’s body. Afterwards, Christie found that concentrating on Nina’s way of smoking her 164 led to some terrific sex that night. Afterwards, they joked about how little work got done on Nina’s book that night.

Christie’s hand was a blur moving over her clit, sending terrific shocks through her body, but she wasn’t quite there yet...

Sharon said, “It was really nice of you to invite me over tonight. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other, living in the same city and all. I guess you’ve been busy; I know I have. My job is driving me crazy, the office is a mess.” She accepted another glass of wine from her friend. “So what’s going on in your life?”

Christie said, “We’re moving on to hypnosis as a therapeutic tool in class.”

“That mumbo-jumbo? I can’t believe that they teach you that in school. It’s gotta be a hoax.” She had no memory of the time she’d been under while they were roommates.

“No, it’s not,” Christie said. “Used properly, it can be a valuable tool for diagnosis and therapy.” Christie wasn’t interested in its proper use that night. She began to try an induction based on their conversation, getting Sharon’s subconscious to respond through NLP hypnosis. Sharon was such an excellent subject that if it was going to work on anyone, it would be her. Sure enough, within ten minutes, her friend was deeply entranced. Christie began to focus Sharon on smoking, feeling a subtle heat rise in her body. She pulled out a More and offered it to Sharon with the illusion that it was her regular brand. When Sharon began to smoke, still deeply hypnotized, Christie felt the heat go up a notch. And Sharon looked so beautiful and feminine as she held the long, slim cigarette high, bringing it down to her lips for a long draw before she slowly exhaled that thick, creamy smoke through the “O” formed by her lips...

Fantasy and reality were ripped to shreds by Christie’s orgasm. She bucked and thrashed so much that she was afraid she’d bounce her slaves off the bed, not that she cared. The images and memories of her past, along with some fantasy thoughts of the present combined to send her into orbit. “Whewwww, ohh that was good,” Christie sighed to her hypnotically unconscious bedmates, who hadn’t fallen off. As she sat basking in an afterglow that was too languorous to ruin by moving, Christie realized that she still wanted something. She wanted to be fucked, but she didn’t want to be fucked by a slave wearing a dildo, which was unsatisfying on many levels. She wanted a flesh-and-blood-and-cum-spurting cock belonging to a submissive slave. Kenny had one, and she was going to get it.