The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

That night, Lori was selected immediately by a bucktoothed old grandpa who wanted to regale her with stories of his family history. Lori listened, pretending to be endlessly fascinated. But, in truth, she wasn’t paying attention to a single word the geezer said.

As the old man was fondly recalling how many peasants his ancestors had butchered at the ancient Battle of So-and-So, Lori noted a thin-face customer with a cane enter the club. Across the distance, she faintly heard the man say, “Is Ayaka working tonight?”

Taking his coat, Shiori replied, “Yes sir, but she is with another customer at the moment.”

The thin-face man erupted. “What? Get me Ms. Fujimura,” he ordered angrily.

Shiori’s face paled. She bowed, then scurried away from her post.

Three minutes later, Ms. Fujimura appeared, smoothly greeting the demanding customer. “Let us talk in private?” she urged.

“Do you have the stockings ready?” the thin-faced man asked point-blank.

Ms. Fujimura winced, but discretely ignored the man’s crudeness. “Let us talk... in private,” she said again. And she led the man upstairs.

Curiosity got the better of Lori. Her own immigration problems momentarily forgotten, she began wondering what Ayaka and the thin-faced customer could possibly want with stockings. It wasn’t as if Ayaka would change into stockings, not for a club date. What where the stockings for? A conversation piece?

When Lori’s ancient client had finished his whiskey and stories, the American student escorted the old man out to the street. His taxi was waiting.

“Oh, I had the nicest time!” the old man rambled, still beaming from ear to ear. “You’re such a nice young lady...!”

“Yes, yes, and you are a wonderful storyteller,” Lori fibbed, gently prodding the man into his cab. “I hope to see you again.”

The moment the little car was speeding away, Lori hurried back into the club. As she re-entered, she happened to look across the main barroom and spotted Ayaka climbing the staircase, up to the office. Oddly, Mr. Hatanaka was with her. His hand was on Ayaka’s shoulder, and the young Japanese woman was walking in a robotic, almost lifeless pattern. Her lovely arms were draped at her sides, her head high on her shoulders, her gaze straight ahead. The two Japanese people’s backs were to Lori, but something seemed very, very wrong about this little scene.

Hatanaka never came down to the barroom, never! What was going on?

Lori scrunched up her mouth, worried. She thought quickly. Then, throwing caution to the winds, she walked across the club and followed up the stairs.

The door to Miwaku’s office was slightly ajar. Feeling like a spy, Lori approached cautiously, careful not to make a sound. For reasons she didn’t understand, alarm bells were going off in her head.

From inside the office, she could hear Ayaka’s timid voice: “Hatanaka-san, have I done something wrong?”

The club manager’s deep baritone was soothing in response: “Oh no, not at all, Ayaka. In fact, you are one of our highest bookers. I am most pleased with how you treat our customers.”

Ayaka: “Then forgive me, but—“

Hatanaka cut her off. “Sleep...!” he intoned. “Sleep... Sleep, Ayaka. You will... sleep...”

There was a silence. Lori held her breath, wondering what was happening.

“Deeper and deeper, Ayaka,” commanded Hatanaka, his deep voice becoming almost silvery. “You descend even deeper than before. Soon, you will know only the sound of my voice.”

More nonsense commands followed, all about how Ayaka was going deeper into a powerful sleep. The young Japanese woman never once spoke as her employer prattled on.

Lori listened, transfixed. Hatanaka-san’s voice was so soothing, so powerful, she also felt the urge to close her eyes and let go. The magic in his words was hard to resist.

Then, Hatanaka switched instructions. “In a moment, Ayaka,” he rumbled, “you will awake, remembering nothing. You will meet with Mr. Sato, waiting for you in Entertainment Room 2. You will find him sexually irresistible. Once he gives you permission, you will remove all of your clothes, only putting on the black stockings you will find neatly folded on the couch. Once you are wearing those stocking—and nothing else—you will bend over and allow Mr. Sato to fuck you from behind. You will believe this to be the best sexual experience of your life.”

More commands followed, all reinforcing the first set of instructions. Lori listened with increasing horror, realizing what was a happening to her girlfriend.

Mr. Hatanaka fell silent, sighing once. “There”, he muttered, “it is done.”

“She will obey?” a woman asked. Ms. Fujimura.

“Of course,” replied Hatanaka. Lori heard the soft click of a cigarette lighter. “And once Sato is finished with her, she’ll return up here to have her memory erased. Again.”

“You see, Hayato?” Ms. Fujimura asked. “This was much easier than you feared. And already the profits are bigger than we anticipated. As I predicted.”

“Perhaps,” grumbled Hatanaka. He was unconvinced.

“We have how many girls conditioned now, six?” asked Ms. Fujimura. “Ayaka, Hatsumi, Kotoe, Michiko, Tatsuko. And, of course, Lori.”

Lori’s blood ran ice cold.

“We will need more,” Ms. Fujimura said airily. “In a few months, when we can move to a better locale with more entertainment rooms, we will need at least a dozen hypnotized girls on staff. Maybe more. It pays to plan ahead.”

Hatanaka exhaled, a slow, agonized sound. “And what are we to do with Lori?” he grumbled.

“You mean that horrid little letter of sponsorship she wants us to sign,” Ms. Fujimura growled, the displeasure evident in her voice.

“If we sign on as her sponsors, it could attract attention from the immigration authorities,” warned Mr. Hatanaka. “Or, if we get into legal trouble, that kind of documentation would be used to prove charges of prostitution.”

Ms. Fujimura considered. “Perhaps...” she said, “but unlikely. Besides, we have to look at the opposite side of the coin.”

Hatanaka grunted.

“The website has just taken off,” Ms. Fujimura reminded him. “Lori is the only blonde woman we advertise. The interest in her is tremendous, more than all the other girls combined. Once we get the online business running smoothly, Lori will be our top moneymaker. By far.”

“You are too casual with risk,” the Japanese man muttered.

Lori had heard enough. Hatanaka and Fujimura were hypnotizing their hostesses for... a side prostitution business? It was absolutely too hideous to contemplate. The American student’s stomach churned.

Slowly, she backed away from the office. When she was safely out of earshot, she turned, rushed down the stairs, and out of the club.

Dressed only in her tiny party dress, Lori aimlessly wandered the frozen streets of Kita District. Her mind was whirling, and she barely noticed the curious stares of fellow pedestrians.

Random images began popping into the American woman’s mind. She recalled... sitting in the Miwaku office, sipping the tea... then feeling so relaxed... gazing into the swirling, electronic paintings... listening to Hatanaka drone on as she felt better and better... Happily agreeing with all that Hatanaka told her...

‘I HAVE been hypnotized,’ Lori realized in dread. ‘The tea drugged me and then Hatanaka lulled me into a trance with those electric lights.’

More memories blossomed in her mind. She remembered stripping and then masturbating for the eyepatched man. She remembered fucking with him like horny rabbits.

Then another customer loomed in her mind. This man was a little older, better built, more handsome, but with a cruel sneer. Lori saw herself bent over the arm of the couch, all of her clothes removed. She was stroking herself furiously, wailing in pleasure, eagerly watching the man slide a condom onto his rigid, red cock.

“Hurry, master!” Lori begged in the memory. She was so aroused. “Your horny slave needs you!”

The customer smirked, then positioned himself to penetrate her.

More and then still more memories of having sex with Miwaku customers appeared.

Lori stopped in a small alley, leaned over, and vomited. As hard as she could.

Her world felt as if it was collapsing. Once, when she had been a teenager, Lori had discovered that her supposedly-loving boyfriend had been cheating on her. That was also on the day her father had died in the car crash. In twenty-four hours, her life had been shattered.

This felt so much worse.

One thing was clear: Lori had to escape Miwaku-Tekina. She should rush home, pack her bags, and fly out of Osaka International that very night. Head for America, and never look back.

Lori gritted her teeth, wiping away the tears. Yes. That was what she’d do.

But...

There was Ayaka.

Right now, Lori knew, her poor roommate was dressed only in black stockings, acting out the depraved fantasy of yet another Miwaku customer. Probably hypnotized to believe that she was a helpless little slave girl, or something else equally horrible. The young American woman cursed out loud.

No, she had to rescue Ayaka. There was no way to reach her roommate at the moment, at least not while Hatanaka and Ms. Fujimura were watching.

But once Ayaka left the club for the night... Lori would grab her Japanese friend, and shake her until all the hypnosis-buried memories bubbled to the surface. Then...

...well, then Ayaka and Lori would figure out their next moves. Together.

There was no way Lori was ever again to set foot inside Miwaku-Tekina, not if there was a remote chance of bumping into her hypnotist. Her coat, purse, cell phone, and keys were in the club, but the American student was too frightened to try and retrieve them.

Her original plan was to lurk outside the club’s entrance, and wait for Ayaka to emerge at the end of the shift. But the February night air was freezing, and growing colder. Lori was only in her flimsy party dress, which did nothing against the bitter winds. Finally, desperate, the young woman flagged down a cab driver.

“You don’t have any money?” he asked, revolted. And yet, his curious eyes were wandering over Lori’s body.

“Well, I don’t have any money on me,” Lori coaxed, brazenly climbing into the cab’s passenger seat. “But I can pay you, once you get me home.” Before the man could object, she added, “Brrr...! Thank goodness you stopped, sir! Why, I always wanted to be a taxi driver, but I just didn’t think I could do it.” She laughed playfully. “You much lead such an interesting life!”

The driver, hypnotized by her flirting, grinned and blushed. Lori, by now, was a top-notch hostess, an expert at detecting how to flatter men’s egos.

Under her spell, the cabbie clicked off his AVAILABLE light and sped away.

By a cruel twist of fate, both Nanami and Hiyori were not home, probably spending the night at their boyfriends’. There was no way to get into Lori’s apartment. Cursing her rotten luck, the American student was forced to knock on the door of Mr. Hamamoto, the building landlord and super. The portly little man stared at her in shock when he opened his apartment door.

“Oh, Hamamoto-san!” Lori wailed, turning on the drama, “I’m locked out of my apartment! Do you have the spare key?”

The super did not, much to Lori’s annoyance. “You have yet to give me back the spare key you borrowed, remember?” he harrumphed.

It took all of Lori’s charms to coax the lumpy little man to pay off her cabbie, then allow her to sit in his snug apartment while she waited for one of her roommates to return home. Hamamoto was watching television. He liked those annoying Japanese shows where characters scream catchphrases at the camera and lewd graphics were splayed across the screen. The American girl huddled in a chair, wishing she could be anywhere than here.

By 11 PM, not one of Lori’s roommates had returned home.

“Its late,” yawned Hamamoto. “I’m off to bed.”

With a degree of pity, he told Lori, “You may sleep on the couch, if you wish. Just include the cab fare in your next rent check.”

Lori mumbled thanks. Exhausted, she was dozing off less than three minutes after the landlord shuffled off to bed.

A set of footfalls and then the creak of a door jolted Lori awake. Someone was above, opening her apartment door! Finally!

The American student leapt to her feet, wishing she knew what the time was. The street outside was silent, so it had to be very late, definitely past midnight.

Groping about in the darkness of Hamamoto’s apartment, Lori found her shoes, then slipped outside. Within a twinkling, she zipped up the steps and through the front door of her own abode.

Ayaka, looking tired, was in the seating room, dropping her coat and purse onto the sofa. The young Japanese women looked up in surprise as Lori bustled in.

“There you are!” Lori gasped, kicking off her shoes, then rushing up to her roommate. “Oh my God, Ayaka...! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Ayaka replied, puzzled. “Nanami and Hiyori are out for the night, I guess. My goodness, Lori, what is the matter with you?”

The blonde woman almost hugged her friend, which is a very un-Japanese thing to do. “Listen,” she said, realizing how dry her throat was. “Hatanaka-san and Fujimura-san... they’re hypnotizing us! I overheard...”

“You overheard too much,” a female voice said behind Lori.

The American student whirled around, her heart pounding. There, in her own seating room, stood the two proprietors of Miwaku-Tekina. Mr. Hatanaka was watching Lori closely. And Ms. Fujimura, folding her thin arms across her chest, looked especially triumphant. Both Japanese wore their winter coats and, as a sign of disrespect, their outdoor shoes.

“You silly girl,” Ms. Fujimura clucked. Her usual professional demeanor was gone; the businesswoman was openly gloating now.

“Get out!” Lori barked.

“I told you it was only a matter of time before one of our girls realized what we were doing,” Ms. Fujimura said to Mr. Hatanaka. “Lori here, it seems, overheard us hypnotizing Ayaka in your office. Why else would she flee from the club so suddenly?”

“Luckily,” the businesswoman added, poison in her voice, “Ayaka remained under our control. So it was easy to devise a trap to recapture our American rose.”

“I’m calling the police,” hissed Lori, reaching for the phone.

“Calm yourself, girl,” Ms. Fujimura commanded, sweeping a hand over Lori’s face.

The hypnotic keyword activated deep within Lori’s mind. Suddenly, the young American woman felt her rage bleed away. Her arms and legs felt heavy. A sleepy tranquility descended over her. She found herself staring into Ms. Fujimura’s eyes.

“You poor little fool,” the older Japanese woman murmured, stepping closer. “Hayato and I have been inside your mind so many times, we know your subconscious better than you do, I think. You have many more posthypnotic suggestions lying in wait, my dear, that you will find it quite impossible to resist me.”

“I mean,” Ms. Fujimura said quickly, “us. You’ll find it difficult to resist us.”

“Hmm?” Hatanaka said, surprised.

Ms. Fujimura sighed once, then turned to her business partner. “Sleep, Hayato,” she ordered, snapping her fingers once.

Hatanaka lost all expression as his eyes closed. His arms dropped limply at his side.

“Sleep, Ayaka,” added Ms. Fujimura, snapping at Lori’s roommate. Instantly, the young Japanese woman dropped her head, falling into a deep trance.

Despite the fog in her mind, Lori wanted to scream. She was captured, she knew, and in within moments, she would be unable to resist any thought or command Ms. Fujimura put in her head. The Japanese woman, as if sensing the remains of Lori’s despair, moved to stand before her.

“Look into my eyes,” the businesswoman murmured, lightly rubbing both of Lori’s temples. “Yes, that’s it. The last of your resistance is fading, Lori. Within in minutes, you will happily call me ‘mistress.’ And you will never resist me again.

“I nearly lost you,” Ms. Fujimura sighed, her gaze casting its magic over Lori’s fading thoughts. “Your close friendship with Ayaka, it seems, gave you a protective bond with her. Well, I can’t have that. You two are to be my obedient workers, without a care as to what happens to the other. We’ll erase that friendship, the moment you are fully in my power.

“It’s a shame,” added the Japanese woman. Her eyes were growing bigger, swallowing Lori’s mind whole. “If I were a man, or from a wealthy family, none of this would be necessary. But to make my fortune, I must operate behind the scenes, allowing all to think that I am a mere secretary, that Hayato is the master. Let people think what they like. In the end, I will be triumphant.

“And now, Lori,” she whispered, “obey me and... sleep...”

Lori’s eyes closed, and she knew no more.

Three months later...

The new Miwaku-Tekina was a vast improvement over the old one. The location, for one, was much better. Only a few blocks from Kita District’s Tenjimbashi-suji Shopping Street, the bar was ideally situated to catch bored husbands who knew their wives would be distracted for a few hours. The main barroom was actually three barrooms now, each with their own classical theme. There was live music every Friday and Saturday nights.

The upstairs was an expanded array of little deluxe suites, each dimly lit, each completely secluded from the others. Here, a customer was assured complete privacy, although tipping the scary-looking bouncer couldn’t hurt if you wanted to be sure no-one saw you come or go.

And those suites were heavily-trafficked. The bouncers were making a killing in discretion tips.

Back in one of the main barrooms, Lori surveyed the hearty crowd. Her hair was loosely tied up, American-style, and she was clad in one of her more daring outfits, the slinky rose-colored dress that left her right arm completely bare. The dress had been a steal, on sale for only fifty thousand yen at Hankyu! True, the outfit hugged her chest a little too much. But that was good for tips.

The customers, as usual, were relaxed and blushing as they regaled hostess girls. There were new girls every week, always prettier than the last. If Lori wasn’t the only blonde, she might be worried about the competition.

It was five minutes before eight o’clock. Lori’s appointment was due to arrive soon, very soon. She wasn’t sure about what fantasy the customer wanted, but no matter. When the time came, she would know what to do. She always did.

Moving through the Imperial-themed barroom with a sultry, feminine grace, Lori made her way to the entrance foyer, absently adjusting her dress as she moved. Her customer would expect-

Wait. Lori’s eyes narrowed. Who was that in the waiting line? Ayaka? She scowled.

No doubt Ayaka was trying to edge in on one of Lori’s customers. AGAIN.

Taking care not to call attention to herself, Lori calmly stood next to her rival. “Here to steal another one of my men? Filthy cunt,” she growled under her breath.

“Back off, skank,” Ayaka hissed back. “I’m here on assignment.”

Both women were careful to keep cheerful smiles on their faces. Only if you were close enough to eavesdrop would you realize what venom was in the words that they flung at one another.

Lori coolly regarded the Japanese woman. How mind-blowing to think: she and Ayaka had once been roommates! Back before Lori had dropped out of school. Lori couldn’t quite remember how the two had had their falling-out, but that didn’t matter. She hated Ayaka with a seething passion, and knew the smaller woman had even eviler thoughts about her.

“Look,” Ayaka glowered. “Normally I wouldn’t want to be within ten feet of your stinky pussy. But this customer has requested both of us.”

Lori was surprised. “Both of us?”

“Both of us,” repeated Ayaka, almost angry. “I think he likes your huge tits and my bubble butt. Or whatever. Doesn’t matter. Apparently he has a shogun fantasy, and we are the only two women he wants to do it with.”

“Oh,” Lori said, and immediately the hatred vanished from her mind. This happened whenever she was paired up with Ayaka; their feud mysteriously suspended itself just long enough to satisfy their customer. But once the man returned to the streets, Lori knew: she’d hate Ayaka all the more passionately.

As if cued by that very thought, the club doors opened. Mr. Takahashi, a successful shipping executive, appeared, immediately smiling at the two hostess women. “Girls!” he giggled in delight.

Instantly, Lori and Ayaka turned into blushing fans. “Takahashi-san!” they called out in perfect unison, then dissolved into giggles themselves.

Within ten minutes, Lori, Ayaka, and the customer were in a private entertaining room. The two women were in makeshift kimonos, but their feet were bare and they wore no makeup. Mr. Takahashi sat cross-legged on a small throne before them, completely nude. Living out his favorite fantasy, he beamed at the women. He was fully erect.

“Mighty shogun!” Lori cried out, bowing deeply in submission. “How may we serve you?”

“I command...” Takahashi said grandly, playing out the part, “...for tea and stimulation. Tea and stimulation!”

“At once, master,” Lori and Ayaka intoned, bowing again.

Ayaka shed her kimono robe, and of course, she was completely naked beneath the wrappings. A look of awe and wonder on her face, she daintily knelt beside her shogun, then lowered her lips onto his waiting penis.

Meanwhile, Lori was selecting an elegant teacup from a set of twelve, neatly arranged on the shelf. She disrobed herself, then approached the shogun, careful to bring the cup and teapot in just the right position.

In Lori’s mind, she was completely convinced that this was feudal Japan, and she was indeed in the service of the mightiest of lords. Proximity to such a powerful man aroused her. She hoped she would have the honor of fucking him later. Perhaps once the shogun finished his tea?

With the grace of a swan, she set the cup before the man, and then poured with the skill of a master.