The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Leah was very interested. Most of these Internet stories were based on interviews over e-mail and the occasional phone call. This was different. This prominent ‘webmistress’ said yes to a face to face interview right away. Leah decided to go ahead with it, especially since it was in a ‘safe’ office building. Francine was very nice and a little nerdy, sort of what one might expect from a woman who ran a bunch of Internet sites. Then again, these were hypnofetish sites and Francine had more than a passing interest in them.

They went into an office and started talking. Francine was proving very good at filling in the blanks. Leah wanted to have some insider ideas of what the fascination was aside from the public sites and message boards. For example, Francine interrupted Leah at one point.

“’He’ is actually a ‘she,’” Francine said to the writer.

“Oh,” she replied, caught a little off guard. “I just assumed.”

“They say to never assume,” Francine teased. “Of course, it’s not a gender specific name. Oddly enough, it is the title of a really bad sword and sorcery film.”

“Hmm,” said Leah. “I should have known that, at least. I consider myself something of a connoisseur of bad movies.” She didn’t know why she told that little piece of unnecessary personal information.

“That’s funny. Many erotic hypnosis fans are also interested in those kinds of movies. They generally dare to go places with mind control that the mainstream doesn’t.”

“You mean, sexually?” Leah offered.

“Mostly, but not always. It is a means to an end, of course. You could make someone not only do what you want, but feel love and desire and all those other wonderful things. Some of us just enjoy the process of falling into trance. We like hypnosis. Some even like being hypnotized more than performing it on another. That’s all part of the definition of hypnofetish.”

Francine continued. “It’s like any other sort of fetish. Some people like certain types of clothing, like shoes. Others are sexually aroused by normally unsexual areas of the body, like feet. There are a few out there who find a woman who wears eyeglasses especially captivating,” she said, indicating her own eyewear. Leah reflexively touched her own frames.

“So, while I’m in an audience laughing at a hypnosis show, there’s someone enjoying it on a whole other level?” Leah seemed amused.

“Maybe,” Francine said, smiling. “Personally, I find hypnosis in any context to have sexual aspects. Sexual activity has a number of parallels to hypnotism.”

“Really. How’s that?” Leah was incredulous. As she saw it, hypnosis was used in stories as a recruitment or in reality as an enhancement to sex.

“Even at the most basic level, both involve a loss of control,” Francine answered. “In literature, an orgasm is even compared to death sometimes, isn’t it?”

“Um, I guess I’ve heard that,” Leah agreed.

“Since ancient times, sleep has also been compared to death. Hypnos was the Greek god of sleep, you know. He gave mortals a taste of death each night. That is, until his son Morpheus gave dreams to humanity. I think that was the mythical genesis of hypnosis.”

Leah would have none of it. “Hypnosis is about making someone relaxed and calm. Sex is active and engaging. At least it should be. It’s only like hypnosis if you’re lying there counting the ceiling tiles.” “What did I just say?” She thought to herself. That was something a little more personal than she wanted to tell. Then again, it was an old joke, it could easily be taken that way.

Francine corrected her. “Actually, hypnosis is about concentration. Like good sex, you get into a ‘zone’ where you are focused and centered. Focus on your breathing, your body sitting in the chair. You don’t have to focus on an object, just a sound or a feeling.” Francine saw Leah losing a little focus. She lowered her voice a little.

“Arousal and trance are both altered states of consciousness. You see that special someone and your heart skips a beat. A touch or a voice sends you into a whirlwind of passion. The response is telegraphed to everyone around you. Your pupils dilate, You breathe a little harder. Your body becomes hot, your skin flushed and sensitive to the touch.”

“Oh,” Leah said in a tone halfway between a realization and a soft moan.

“Uh-huh. There isn’t all that much difference between and an induction and a seduction. They even sound similar, induction, seduction, induce, seduce. Induction is convincing, persuading. Seduction is leading, tempting. All seduction is induction. To be seduced is to be induced. You have been seduced and induced. You already know what an induction is like. You are induced and seduced so often that it’s comfortable, familiar, welcome.” It was all going so fast. Leah was pretty sure that Francine was right, she just wasn’t sure exactly why.

Francine studied Leah for a moment. She was listening carefully, so much show that she wasn’t quite aware that Francine was answering her questions, but using some very powerful speech and language patterns in the process. “I know of what I speak, Leah. Look in my eyes, and you can see the truth and rightness of what I say. The link between a hypnotist and her subject is not unlike the bond between two lovers. Each listens and responds. I listen to your breathing. I see your body language. I respond. I match each inhalation. I mimic your unconscious gestures. You listen to my words. I say words like relaxed, comfortable, peaceful, calm. You feel relaxed, comfortable, peaceful, calm.”

“Infatuation, Leah, is like a trance. You remember your first schoolgirl crush. It made you feel so strange, different, but at the same time it felt so very good. You were lightheaded, disoriented. It was hard to speak. You always seemed a little tongue tied. You still get that way. It’s difficult to speak right now. Don’t worry about it, though. Just listen to my voice.”

Leah tried to respond, but it came out as a low murmur. Francine went on. “A ‘trance’ is the most normal thing in the world. Everyone goes into a little one every so often. While you watch a movie or listen to a long, boring speech. It can be active, too. I’m sure you’ve driven down a long, straight stretch of road and found that you were completely unaware of the passage of time.

“Imagine yourself driving down a gently sloping road now. Feel the slight vibration of the car on the asphalt. Sink into the seat. It’s the most comfortable seat you’ve even been in. It makes you so relaxed. It’s evening, but you can still see the mile markers. The first one is 100, the next is 99. As each one passes, 98, 97, it becomes darker. You have to turn your headlights on now, barely seeing 96, 95.” Leah reached out a little. “You find that now 94 and 93 are easy to see. Each one is reflected into your eyes by the headlights, 92, 91.” Francine counted down slowly, producing a penlight. With each number, she pressed the button and watched the light play on Leah’s face and reflect in the lenses of her glasses.

“Leah, tell me what each marker says as it passes,” Francine said.

“82, 81, 80, 79,” Leah counted down, in time with the flashes.

“Good. Just keep counting and listening to my voice. With each marker you travel lower and lower, deeper and deeper. Soon you will reach the last mile marker. When you do, you’ll pull your car into a safe, pleasant little garage. You’ll be so relaxed and comfortable that you will close your eyes and drift into a wonderful sleep, hearing only my voice and answering only my questions.” Leah was in the forties now, her eyes drooping a little.

“That’s right, deeper and deeper. No matter how much you want to close your eyes, you must keep them open until you reach the destination. Your body is relaxed. Your arms float, almost weightless, holding the wheel.” Leah’s arms rose a little, hands dropping the notebook and pen. She was almost done.

“12, 11, 10, 9, 8,” Leah counted quietly.

“Very good, Leah,” Francine said. Leah reached one and Francine continued. “Now slow down and enter your safe place. Good, now relax and close your eyes.” Leah leaned forward a little, eyelids shutting. Her head dropped, glasses slipping a little down the bridge of her nose.

“Trances are very commonplace. In fact, Leah, you’re in a light trance right now. It’s okay, though. You’re just focused. Remember, you can’t be made to do anything that you don’t truly want to do. You want to learn about hypnosis, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she replied weakly.

“You especially want to learn about erotic hypnosis.”

“Yes.”

“That’s good,” Francine replied. “You can learn many things about hypnotism from books or doctors or professionals. I think that there is one thing only a very few can teach you about, the big ‘O."’

“O,” she repeated.

“It’s the logical conclusion of any erotic hypnosis discussion, the blending of intercourse and induction.” Francine got up from her chair and stepped behind Leah. “Not everyone can reach that level, of course. Men seem to have a difficult time with it, being so literal and simplistic. It’s so much easier for them the old fashioned way.”

Francine spoke quietly in Leah’s ear. “Women are different. We care about the emotional and mental as well as the physical. We’re complex, sexual and sensual.” Francine slowly slid her hands down the other woman’s arms. “Some of us have trouble achieving orgasm under most circumstances. Others can have it just by the proper stimulation of delicate, sensitive breasts. Some lucky girls can come from kissing alone.” Francine sighed wistfully. “Has that ever happened to you, Leah?”

“No,” she answered regretfully.

“You have had orgasms before.”

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” said Francine. “Having an orgasm through hypnosis is very similar to having one through intercourse. Sensations build and build and build until the inevitable release. Do you have a good memory, Leah?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a good imagination?”

“Yes,” Leah answered huskily.

“Good. When you begin to make love, it can be awkward or complicated. The first induction can also be that way. The key is to give yourself over to the other, the lover. Eventually arousal takes over. See it in your mind, feel it in your body. Can you feel it, Leah? Can you feel the gentle tingle of arousal?”

“Mmmm, yes.”

“Very good, you have an excellent sense of your body.” Leah smiled. “The arousal gives you purpose,” Francine suggested. “You and your lover work together, find a rhythm that draws you toward more and more pleasure.” Francine brought her hands up along Leah’s chin, across her lips and through her dark hair. “Do you feel the pleasure rising?”

“Oh yes!” She said, breathing a little harder.

“Yes. Your body become more hot, wet, aroused, excited. Your mind revels in the sensation. Concentrate on those feelings. Your focus becomes so great that the world drops away. You fall deeper and deeper, down into your erotic trance.” Francine slid her hands down Leah’s shoulders, teasing her nipples through her blouse and bra. Leah moaned softly.

Francine began speaking faster and more urgently. “You are so deep, so focused now.” She moved her hands to Leah’s legs. “Going deeper and deeper, you feel the waves of pleasure build and build. Again and again, they wash over you.” Leah began panting. “You need release so badly. Getting closer and closer. The sensations are twice as intense, ten times as intense, twenty, thirty.” Leah rocked in her chair. “Almost there, it’s almost time. So close, so aroused, so hot. You are so deep now. You must give in. You must obey me.” Francine leaned in so closely that Leah could feel the hot sweet breath on her ear. “Come for me, lover,” she said, stroking the wettest patch of Leah’s trousers.

Leah stiffened a little, then shuddered against Francine’s arms, her breath coming in short gasps.

“I think I cheated a little,” Francine said, mostly to herself. “Hypnosis got you most of the way.” She moved over to see Leah’s sleeping form. “A good beginning, to be sure.”

The article came out a few weeks later. In fact, it was more of a blurb. Francine smiled. It was mostly accurate and portrayed hypnofetishists in a fair light. Francine decided that those pictures she took would just be for her private collection. “We hypnofetishists are good people,” she thought, “just a little misunderstood.”