The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Part 1 — Stacy

Stacy Loman had sat in the seat she was in for so long, she’d forgotten why she was there in the first place. A young, business executive, she was professionally dressed in a white jacket, pantsuit and pumps, with her short brown hair and make-up styled perfectly. For a woman put together so well, something important brought her there, but an overly-prolonged wait that led to absent-mindedness robbed the importance of the place or matters that brought her there. Something in her mind told her to give it a few more minutes before she would depart. She looked down to make sure her purse was there for when she was ready to leave, but found a pocket watch lying next to it.

She was surprised to see something so old-fashioned in-public, but admired the pristine look of it. Its silver face was undecorated, but polished, almost reflective; more than anything, it surprised her to see something so antiquated looking brand-new. The watch and Stacy’s purse lied between her and the red-headed woman sitting next to her. Sitting patiently seemed to be the only similarity between them, as the redhead wore a rather frilly brown halter top, blue jeans, and black flats. Stoic businesswoman with high-standards that she was, Stacy would’ve described her as being either too lazy, or too slutty, if it wasn’t for the aura the woman was giving off, or something in the way she carried herself; whatever it was, deep inside, “beautiful” was the only classifier that stuck. Stacy had thought about the woman sitting next to her for so long, it took her a moment to realize she was holding the pocket watch in her hand. The redhead turned to meet Stacy’s dark brown glance with smiling light-blue eyes, and a single raised eyebrow.

“Planning to hypnotize me with that, are you?”

“Wha—” Stacy looked at her own hand, realizing that the way she held the chain, not too far from the watch itself, almost suggested she was about to swing it. “No, I’m sorry, I was just won—”

Involuntary snickering interrupted Stacy’s apology; before the brunette could frown at the prospect of being made a fool, a bright smile curtailed the formation tugging at Stacy’s lips.

“I’m sorry, bad joke on my part. The way you were holding it, couldn’t help but ask. And I’m so used to ice-breakers like that, didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”

Lips formed a small smile from the explanation. “I’m guessing this watch is yours.”

“It is. I’m Alexis, by the way.”

“Stacy,” was the even reply.

“Thank you for not stealing my pocket watch, or doing something nefarious with it as well.”

Alexis noticed Stacy’s puzzled look and expanded on her words. “Not that you would Stacy; it’s just...well, the way you hold that watch, I consider that good form, like you’d know what you’re doing with it.”

“I...I do? I mean, I am?”

“In my experience, yes.”

“Your experience as a hypnotist,” Stacy finished.

“Indubitably; I doubt any other cool professions are bringing pocket watches back in style,” Stacy watched as Alexis seemed to gently, but firmly fixate on the watch she was holding. “How’s the weight of it? What do you think of the grip of the chain?”

“Huh?”

Alexis’ gaze easily rose to meet Stacy’s. “Just a hunch that you’re not a hypnotist by trade yourself, Stacy. But another hunch has me thinking it could be a hobby for you.”

“No, sorry. I’ve never hypnotized anyone,” Stacy confirmed after a quick second of consideration. “I’m not sure I’d want to.”

“Why’s that?”

The train of thought heading towards an explanation ran into a haze that paused speech momentarily. “Bad experience with hypnosis before...I think,” the haze lowered visibility just enough to blind Stacy of the details that left her ambivalent on the subject, though it was hard to figure out why. Something about Alexis though prevented connections to any past negativity. Left to her own imagination, she envisioned a pushy, domineering guy trying to prove his superiority as opposed to the casual, engaging charm of the woman sitting next to her.

“I’m sorry you had a bad experience before,” a genuinely sympathetic tone regarded Stacy’s response. “Hopefully you have much better ones if you’re inclined later. Who knows, maybe you’ll be the one performing it yourself in the future, especially as you might be a natural hidden talent. Take it from me, Stacy—talent recognizes talent.”

The ice-breaking tangent Alexis was on might’ve annoyed or freaked out Stacy a bit if it weren’t for the light casual delivery, something that felt highlighted the soft, crooning tone Alexis effortlessly spoke with, serving as evidence of her own possible hypnotic prowess.

“And assuming I’m right, maybe you can use your talent to force whomever is making us wait to hurry it up,” the hypnotist laughed and infectious laugh that Stacy contributed to.

“Shouldn’t you be the one to do that since you have more experience?”

“You’re already holding the watch, Stacy. And better you go, lest the angered hypnotist turn them into clucking chickens for the rest of the day.”

Stacy was the one to snicker now, letting her first honest laugh be heard. “If only,” she thought, still staring at the silver surface, seeing a fuzzy glimmer of her own reflection as a hypnotist, commanding and empowered. Knowing Alexis was literally both those things as a profession acting on the wills of others, made the redhead rather attractive. The part of Stacy that would’ve gotten up to ask what the hold-up was seemed content to stay and continue speaking.

“That’s one thing you might have over me if you ever get into hypnosis, Stacy—patience.”

“I don’t know, I could be at a loss for patience myself too.”

“If so, you hide it better, Stacy. Even with self-hypnosis trying to enhance that better habit, I come up short compared to others.”

Stacy did not expect to learn about the intricacies of hypnosis, let alone find fascination in the idea of a hypnotist inflicting her skill upon herself, loosely making the connection to how she was still holding the pocket watch.

“But without it, I’d probably revert back to times when I could get really annoyed, or my nerves got really frazzled over waiting on pins and needles. Like being back at school, waiting for some peer decision, like ‘did I make that team’ or ‘did I get into that sorority,’ where you literally can’t wait to know. I’m not sure if that makes much sense though,” Alexis admitted, thinking back to an unfortunately memorable time past.

“It does make some sense, Alexis. I was at a sorority in my undergraduate; I can remember that uncertainty of getting in.”

It surprised the hypnotist a little to hear that, as Stacy seemed to give off a distinct air of privilege and “who could afford to refuse her entry to whatever and wherever she wanted.”

“Hmm. Did yours have one of those old grandfather clocks around the entrance?”

“Yeah, ours did too.”

“I hope they didn’t make you wait near one of those for decisions like that. I swear it was like a torture session, staring at that thing for what felt like hours; I would’ve been happy to just walk away to know for sure of something, if it wasn’t for my coping mechanism.”

“How did you cope,” genuine curiosity laced Stacy’s tone.

“Knowing a little about hypnosis beforehand. Granted, it would’ve been so, so satisfying to know enough about it to guarantee my way in to cut down on worrying, but after staring at that grandfather clock so long, or really the swinging pendulum inside it, that mechanism reminded me of hypnosis and the legitimate calming effect it has on the mind, for the giver and the receiver.”

Remembering the grandfather clock at Stacy’s old sorority, she remembered a time before being a member and passing by it daily, when she could only stand at the entrance and hope, with only objects like the clock to keep her company, counting down unknown seconds.

“Remembering what I learned about hypnosis caused the unbearable wait to become an excuse to let time and focus relax me. Every second ticking away became a second that could pass me by like water under a bridge I stood on. Every swing of that pendulum became a back-and-forth repetition that I could count on, a guarantee I didn’t have to wait on, assured of the continued back-and-forth, and the relaxation that would follow.”

Everything happening around Stacy that didn’t get lost was suddenly becoming very engaging, from what Alexis was saying, to the soothing way she was saying it, to the memories taking her back to her pre-pledge days, to the correlation between the grandfather clock and the pocket watch.

“Back and forth, back and forth, a beautifully-assured back and forth. Beautiful in how shiny the surface of the object is, reflective like any jewel, so worth your time. Beautiful in how that shiny, worthy object swings back and forth, in a slow, practiced arc, allowing eyes and visions to lazily keep up and yet helplessly follow back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.”

Time somehow distorted, reverting Stacy’s sense of self back to her collegiate days, absently sitting near that clock, absent of time most everything except for the pendulum swinging back and forth. Little else mattered, even logical questions like why she couldn’t leave the entrance to not stare at a clock, or why everything about the grandfather clock was golden bronze except for the silver, glistening pendulum inside that carried her attention...

“Back and forth, back and forth, so easy to watch, so captivating that it holds you right where you are. It’s not just where you are, it’s where you want to be, where you must be. Cycling back and forth between want and must, swung exactly where you are. The swinging silver, the gift given by silver watch, holds you so completely to my words, I wonder if the experience makes mine a silver tongue to you as well. As your eyes are held to the back and forth, so must your ears be held to the sound of my voice, my words flowing back and forth in your mind. Your mind absorbs the back and forth now, absorbing the swinging, back and forth. Absorbing the sound of my voice saying ‘back and forth,’ over and over, because you want it that way. You want to hear more, you want to watch more, you want to follow where I lead you, Stacy...back and forth.”

Distortion manifested in more ways as sensations of stillness and swaying confused her mind and body, unable to tell which was experiencing which. It should’ve been an alarming feeling for someone so used to control, but control seemed to rest in Alexis’ hands, and she had yet to be given a reason to not enjoy where her figurative guiding hand took her.

“Back and forth...within the bounds of pleasure, from one end to the other. Maybe one end makes you oh so very sleepy, and tired, that lovely feeling of letting go right before rejuvenating, rejoiceful sleep overtakes you. From lovely sleep, slowly guiding you to that other end, where your feel the pleasures of sleeping, of dreaming. Of listening. Of obeying. Pleasure becomes all you know in this state, caressed by the phantom hands and ethereal whispers that increase your tolerance, your capacity for pleasure. The pleasure continues to grow as you slowly sink deeper into sleep, traveling, resting in capable hands. Hands that hold time and reality captive and aside for you.”

Tingles and waves of pleasure surged through her body, making every word more significant than the last. It pleased Stacy so much to feel with surety the sway of her body in response to pleasure, but her watch-holding hand remaining still, a trail of pleasure roaming up and down her arm, gentle fingers or fingernails bringing her deeper.

“The hand holds time for you, that is your reality, Stacy. The grandfather clock of that sorority so like my watch. My watch tells time. My watch tells you it is time to sleep, to fall into a trance for me, to sleep deep for Alexis. My watch counts you down into deeper sleep now, starting from 10, to the back, 9, and forth, 8, back 7, and forth, 6, back, 5, and fourth, 3, back, 2 and forth, 1. And 0, deep sleep now, Stacy. Deep sleep.”

Though a dark, drowsy, luxurious journey headed somewhere, a passenger comfortably cushioned by relaxing words felt herself happily moving, following the voice that carried her this far into pleasure. Pleasure associated itself with hypnosis. Hypnosis associated itself with listening, trust, relaxation, obedience, and more pleasure. All of those elements converged into thoughts of Alexis as a hypnotist. Words of encouragement and praise filled her with a floaty joy, happy to be attached to them like a balloon on a string; even a soft, signature giggle from the hypnotist elicited a reaction, one Alexis was happy to create the association of Stacy being told she was a “good girl,” causing a wave of bliss to wash over her, reinforcing every suggestion that came before it. Stacy marveled at how amazing it felt to listen, to trust, to obey, to please Alexis, to feel her infectious happiness, to even call her Mistress Alexis, because such a talent deserved such a title.

Eventually, impossibly dreary eyes opened to find herself on a stage of some sort, with Alexis sitting next to her. Barely functioning thoughts could latch on to little besides the dreamy haze of trance, the urge to touch her own body for how good the pleasure was, and to see Alexis with clearer eyes. A giggle from the hypnotist in how cute her subject looked made her body shiver gently, almost moaning for the nearby crowd to hear. They laughed and jeered, but all of it was faint background noise to ears conditioned to hear every word or sound Alexis would make. A pathway in Stacy’s mind opened her up to remembering how Alexis offered to give her a good, great, or even spectacular hypnosis experience to excise the bad one; instead of apprehension, the opportunity to have fun, to find out first-hand why it was so popular, and to be able to let her hair down with a trustworthy hypnotist for once led her to say yes, and to gladly be on that stage, focused on her.

“Mistress Alexis,” Stacy exhaled happily.

“Hmm, what was that Stacy?” Alexis spoke into the stage mic before bringing it closer to her subject’s lips.

“Mistress Alexis,” she repeated.

“Such a nice title. Appreciated, but really, Miss Alexis or just-plain Alexis is fine.”

“But...you’re Mistress Alexis,” was the confused clarification.

“But...whose mistress am I? What kind of mistress am I?”

“You’re a....” genuinely thinking about it for a moment, Stacy had to justify why for the first time why she was a mistress; the deep, inner comfort of calling her mistress seemed to throw her off, until a helpful, familiar pocket watch appeared dangling from Alexis’ fingertips.

“A...hypnotic....mistress,” she managed with fixed eyes and thoughts.

“And whose hypnotic mistress am I,” Alexis giggled.

“M-m...mmmmmmm.....m-my...hypnotic...Mistress..Alexis,” speech broken up by pleasure echoed the showroom as the watch began to swing again.

“Back and forth, Stacy. Back and forth. Following because you have to. Following because I want you to. Following, because I say so.”

“Yesss, Mistress Alexis,” she beamed slowly, to the light applause of the audience.

“Very good girl,” Alexis giggled, doubly setting her subject off until she wanted to slide out of her seat into a puddle of pleasure. Stacy was caught just in-time before she could fall to the floor; Alexis heard a few sounds of disappointment from the crowd that she didn’t fall to the floor, ignoring them as she whispered soft commands of finding the strength to stand and remain upright, aided by the watch that kept her vision upwards.

“That’s perfect, I don’t even have to tell my good girl to stare and focus at the watch. She just does it all by her own self, and the remainder of her will conditioned to stare, to be ever-fascinated by the shiny silver, the way light bounces off the surface and flows into you like hypnotic, magnetic energy. This time piece is so bright, time itself is so bright, highlighted and emphasized the longer someone gives it attention. You are so attentive to time now, time determined by the voice telling the watch to tell you it’s time to sleep!”

The silver watch dropped fast from one hand, and Alexis’ experience effortlessly allowed her other hand to catch it by the chain, while the raised hand pulled Stacy’s standing form closer by the head, ignoring the applause. Not everything was heard, but Alexis allowed whispered suggestions to be held to the mic.

“In the back rooms, you’ll find several outfits that you’ve always wanted to see someone wear on-stage for a hypnosis show. You will pick that outfit, put it on, believing you’re still dressed in your normal clothes, feeling quite normal in the outfit you chose, without giving it any thought whatsoever. Do you understand, Stacy?”

“Yes Mistress Alexis, I understand and I obey.”

Giggles “Excellent, now wake up, happy and a little more conscious. Go to the back rooms,” she bid of her shivering subject.

“Okay, Mistress Alexis,” she replied cheerfully.

Alexis sat in the chair, crossing a leg over the other, patiently waiting like the rest of the crowd. Five minutes later, Stacy returned donning a sexy black-and-white French maid’s outfit, complete with a cute little feather duster. She strolled back onto stage with the same confident gait she’d left it, so used to an assertive, forward stride that she really didn’t give her new clothes a second thought.

“Hmmm, let me guess. Of all the outfits you saw back there, the maid’s outfit was the one that caught your eye.”

“Y-yeah, how’d you guess that?”

“Call it a hunch,” Alexis giggled again. “For choosing such a good outfit, take a bow, Stacy.”

“Sure, Mistress Alexis,” the hypnotized woman on-stage bowed to the audience, smiling.

“Good, now bow before me, Stacy.”

“Yes, Mistress Alexis,” was the more passionate response as she sank to her knees in-front of the hypnotist. The crowd jeered and whistled at how good she looked kneeling in the outfit, getting another giggle and an idea.

“That outfit would look amazing if someone wore it on-stage, don’t you think Stacy?”

“Yeah, I think so Mistress Alexis,” Stacy said matter-of-factly.

“It would just give the wearer the freedom to do things she never thought she’d do,” the swinging watch captured the maid’s attention again. “Thoughts that would go back, and forth. Back, and forth in her mind, might be more resolute as she could be free do something unique. Something like...oh, I don’t know, flashing the audience at every whistle you hear. No reason to think about it or realize you’re doing it as you’re doing it. No reason to go back...and forth...about that, right Stacy?”

“Back and f-forth...no reason...Mistress Alexis...” the casual speech tone from being slightly woken up disappeared.

“What happens if someone whistles, Stacy?”

“Flash...audience...Mistress Alexis...”

Giggles “Good girl, now come back up a bit more.”

“So, how was your day Stacy?”

Immediately after Alexis asked the question, multiple whistles commenced from behind Stacy, making her unconsciously bend over and flash the white panties were part of the outfit. The flap of her short, frilly skirt went up and down, responding to every whistle while Stacy told a sitting Alexis about her day. The hypnotist’s smile made her speak more comfortably, and even laugh with the audience as a few people who didn’t know how to whistle properly caused confusion in Stacy’s obedience, physically unsure as to whether the poor attempts counted.

“That’s quite a day you’ve had; I think that deserves some deep sleep...” Alexis brought the watch out and let the cool surface touch Stacy’s forehead. Making Stacy upright again, Alexis issued more suggestions into her head, grinning widely as she kept the mic away from her mouth.

Stacy was sent back to the room with the outfits, and returned wearing her original clothes, but with still with the feather duster, and a much different demeanor. With lighter steps, a shorter gait, and coquettish body language, the subject re-emerged with a French maid’s personality.

“Don’t you look nice, Stacy?”

“Stacy,” she looked confused, pronouncing the name in a terribly-thick French accent. “Who is this Stacy?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, who are you?” Alexis asked with a knowing smile.

“I am Claudine,” she said matter-of-factly. A whistle from the crowd made her still flash her ass the same way, but she only showed the rear material of her pantsuit. That made everyone laugh even harder, including Alexis.

“Hahah-oh....whew.” The redhead took a moment to compose herself. “Oh, are you my sexy little maid, Claudine?”

The swinging watch caught her attention, almost making the accent falter. “Oui, Mistress Alexis, I am your sexy little maid.”

“Oh, wonderful, I’m so glad to hear that Claudine; this stage is in need of a good dusting, like hands-and-knees dusting.”

Most of the audience loved Claudine cleaning the stage floor in her professional pantsuit, though none more than Alexis herself. She knew some wanted the whole package of the Claudine personality and outfit, but mixing things up like that was so fun for her. After she cleaned the space around her chair, Alexis led Claudine to clean the rest of the stage.

“So much dust up here, it’s even falling from my pocket watch,” Alexis spoke while leading her around, letting the long chain fall to her knees at Claudine’s line of sight. “You really need to move that duster back and forth....back, and forth....back, and forth...”

Claudine suddenly had a lot of trouble paying attention to her dusting duties. Her arm went back and forth, but so did her eyes following the watch.

“But you mustn’t get distracted, Claudine; you’re my sexy little maid and you must do as you’re told for Mistress Alexis. Resist my pocket watch and swing that duster back, and forth...back, and forth...baaaccckkk, and foooortthhh...” A crooning giggle bound the maid to conflicting suggestions twisting her up. She needed to clean, but she needed to follow. There was dust, but there was a sense of disobedience, and Claudine felt helpless on what to resist or obey. Sexy little maids dusted as they were told, but sexy little maids owned by Mistress Alexis were magnetized by silver pocket watches. Of and on again, Claudine followed both orders, dusting, stopping, staring, focusing on dusting again. Eventually, it got so hard that she’d given in and just stared, fearing disobedience, but helpless to the watch. Crouching in-front of her was her Mistress Alexis, with a stern look on her face, bringing the silver time piece in-between them.

Claudine could only wait for Alexis telling her how to react or feel to what she’d done. Uncertainty filled the air, even in the audience, until Alexis smirked, giggled, and called her a “good girl” again. Hugging her maid, bringing her back to standing, Alexis slowly tucked Claudine aside in Stacy’s mind, bringing her back to full awareness, enough to take a bow with Alexis on-stage as the crowd cheered and whistled, hoping to elicit the evaporated effect.

Stacy stayed close to Alexis as they departed the stage and met with a man at the bar of the club, a hypnotherapist named Martin Boyd.

“I seriously underestimated the power and creativity of Mistress Alexis, I have to admit,” Martin congratulated her.

“Don’t worry, most do. Some just get to learn the fun way,” she glanced in Stacy’s direction who smiled back oblivious to the conversation, ordering a drink for both women.

“So, how did you find Stacy as a subject?”

“Not nearly as hard as some make her out to be; when approached right, she like others make for great subjects. The aggressive, predatory way doesn’t work like some believe it should,” Alexis said, glancing at the crowd of mostly men, wondering which crashed and burned horribly with Stacy before her. “Is that the only reason she was my induction into this little club, because some were doing it wrong?”

Martin didn’t answer right away, and Alexis wondered with an inward smile if he was the one to fail.

“Someone was going to succeed, and it’s always fun putting a reputably difficult subject with a reputably excellent hypnotist.”

“One does what one can,” the redhead spoke honestly, keeping to herself how glad she was the one to bring Stacy into trance, as in this environment, she’d be subjected to much less flattering conditions than she’d deserve. Alexis considered herself a lover of the manipulative side of hypnosis more than anything, and got most of her satisfaction from that as opposed to others, with some exceptions. It seemed like Stacy’s only infraction was resistance, and it made sense how someone as skilled and approachable as Alexis would make a difference. And after a long talk with her subconscious afterwards, she would make sure Stacy was reinforced with resisting trance from others, and see if she was amenable to more with her.

“Do you often promote a hypnotist’s naughty impulses? Or is that what the Ka-uhhh, Kala.....ugh, Kalatar....damn, what is this place called again?” Alexis questioned.

“The Kalatravaasa. Weird name, I know, but there’s a real fascinating story behind it, and a lot easier to keep the riffraff from guessing the right word for access. And the offer to help you remember the name is always open, if you’re inclined.”

Martin was a mildly-attractive man in his early 40’s, carried by his confidence and skill like the rest. His smile was easy, but didn’t hide his true offer at all. Bringing her pocket watch between them, clicking it open, she waved it before his view gently. “Maybe another time, but we’ll see who learns what then,” she laughed, hiding a literal threat of willing to mind-fuck and brainwash the organizer, something she saved for bad elements she met around, hoping for Martin’s sake that he wasn’t.

The Kalatravaasa was a unique club compared to many others; with no fixed location, it was a roaming establishment, based wherever the hypnotists members and organizers wanted it. It was a usually simple matter of reaching agreeable terms of whom the club belonged to at the time, from barkeeps and hostesses, to bouncers and management, depending on the type of building. Once agreements were reached and the Kalatravaasa was firmly in-place, hypnotists of all kinds, psychologists, psychiatrists, trance-enthusiasts, and others could put ethics aside and enjoy slaves or put on shows like Alexis had that night.

Martin, as one of the top organizers, was said to recruit Alexis for a similar position if she showed interested and real talent. The assessment of her was right on, and he could see she would make an equally good, if not better, organizer than he was.

“So, since I’ve seemed to pass this interview phase with flying colors, what comes next?