The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I watched the hotel room door close behind him, remembering his smile, his touch, his taste. Pulsating with desire, missing him already. Asking myself, “What the hell just happened?”

I had just sent him off on his busy day with a posthypnotic suggestion, a sexually charged one at that. Not bad, considering that I was normally very much the subject, not the hypnotist. I shook my head and smiled to myself, trying to piece it together.

It had started last night. No, before that—over the last couple of weeks, with all the phone calls that led up to this business trip, this convention that would throw us together for a few ecstatic days, then plunge us back into our separate lives. We had shared our fantasies and desires on the phone, his voice low in my ear, first sending shivers of anticipation, then hot, blatant surges through me. I could hear the desire in his voice; it fanned my flames even higher. Sometimes he hypnotized me over the phone. Other times I just basked in his words, swept up by the compelling images from his fertile imagination. He had been hypnotizing me for years, and it had become part of our lovemaking.

Some of his dreams—his dreams about me—were hypnoerotic. I loved that, loved that he was dreaming about me, loved that he was using the power of his mind, even in his sleep, to seduce me, to arouse me, to focus all of his sexual energy on me and all of mine on him. He had described just such a dream to me, one in which he called me, hypnotized me over the phone and summoned me to him, willing, wanting, melting into his arms, ready to be swept into bliss.

One of his dreams even had me hypnotizing him. He had described mutual hypnosis to me, and teased me gently about hypnotizing him. He obviously wasn’t a control freak if he was inviting such a thing, but I quailed inside at the thought—how could I ever say the words? Where would I get the confidence?

He wasn’t insistent or pushy about it; when I demurred he simply went back to other variants, and had described them in such compelling terms that I could feel myself drawn to him, not like a moth to a flame, but a lover to a lover, a soulmate to a soulmate.

Last night, our first night together, we’d made love. No hypnosis, just the sheer joy of being in one another’s company, in one another’s arms, him deep inside me, taking me to the heights again and again, until shudders of pleasure finally racked his body and I came with him one last time, breathless, shrieking, groaning. Afterwards, as we held each other, me snuggled up close to his side, my body was completely satisfied. But the memory of those delightfully erotic phone conversations, the warm, sensual pleasure of being in the trance that he wove around me, tickled at the back of my mind.

I spoke hesitantly. “Tomorrow night, I’d like to try some of those hypnoerotic fantasies—those things we talked about on the phone.”

He hugged me tighter and said that he’d love to. I wasn’t usually the one to call the shots in our lovemaking, but he created the itch, so he should be ready to scratch it.

We had a room service breakfast the next morning in his room. It was a well-appointed suite, complete with a big-screen TV, VCR, and a stereo system with a CD changer. We were dressed and ready for the day—he had a full day of meetings, starting in an hour or so, where he was going to be demonstrating Excalibur, the code name for his newest project, to prospective clients. We chatted and finished our food.

He crossed the room and knelt by the entertainment unit to remove my CDs from the changer. Something about him kneeling there, his exposed neck below his thick hair, his head bent in concentration as he slipped the CDs back into their sleeves, set off little affection bombs in my head and I had to close the gap between us, to be with him, to touch him. I felt almost catlike and a little daring as I walked across the room, not sneaking up on him, but feeling fluid and graceful as I sank to my knees behind him. I brought my lips to the exposed back of his neck and pressed a kiss into it. His back arched, and I could smell the fresh morning scents of soap and shampoo on him as I continued to kiss his neck and ran my hands over his shoulders to his chest. Memories of our lovemaking last night—my hands on his bare chest, his filling presence between my legs—came flooding back. He leaned back against my breasts, and one of my hands continued to slide downward, following his shirt, right into his pants. I was thrilled to find that he was already hard, and I closed my fingers lightly on him, wondering from where my behavior was coming, because it wasn’t like me. I’m not usually the aggressor, nor am I physically this bold.

I gently stroked the sides of his erection, and I could feel his pulse beating a steady rhythm against my palm. He moaned softly in appreciation, his eyes closed in pleasure. I felt a strange combination of uncertainty at what I was doing, power at knowing I was having such a strong effect on him, and delight that he seemed to be enjoying my ministrations. It was a little mind-boggling, especially combined with the arousal that was building in me. I slid around in front of him and leaned in close, kissing the side of his neck and deeply breathing in his scent, still stroking him, immensely enjoying the feel of him in my hand and his moans of pleasure in my ear.

It came to me in a flash. I looked at him and saw myself: eyes closed, lips parted, a blissful expression, as he touched me in my most sensitive, secret places, as he whispered hypnotic words and phrases, words that compelled me and propelled me to undreamed-of pleasures. This was truly sexual hypnosis, my body utterly focused on the pleasures of his touch, my mind utterly focused on the pictures he painted there.

I could hardly believe my own ears as I whispered into his ear, “What I’m doing to you feels so good. It feels so wonderful, you just want it to go on and on.”

Holy cow, where did THIS come from? I heard my inflections, and they were, well, hypnotic—a sureness and cadence that didn’t allow for any other possibility. What was I doing? Who was this person who had taken over my body, boldy stroking her lover, whispering hypnotic words into his ear, enticing him into a sexy trance? And was it really working? I felt a ripple of fear and a burst of self-doubt, but after a momentary hesitation I heard more words coming out of my mouth, in the same vein: “You’re totally focused on the pleasurable sensations, the deeply pleasurable sensations that I’m giving you. Every part of you is focused on the wonderful feelings.”

I could sense that he was, in fact, focusing on my words and on my pleasuring touch. The fear and doubt were brusquely shunted aside by a surge of bold confidence and a wave of hot desire. I reached down with my other hand, undid his belt and pants, and slid them down, giving me better access to him.

As he had done with me so many times, I repeated the incantation, telling him to focus on the marvelous sensations as I increased the pressure of my touch. It felt so good, touching him this way, giving him pleasure, knowing he was enjoying what I was doing as much as I was enjoying doing it.

I said, “My touch is so warm, so compelling. You enjoy it so much; you want it so much.”

He gasped audibly, and powerful feelings coursed through me. I bent down and took him gently in my mouth, bestowing kisses, teasing him with my tongue. His groan of pleasure sent another hot wave through me and I wanted nothing more than to to shed my pants and take him deep inside me.

I thought of the day stretching before us, how we would be apart, doing our separate thing, only to be rejoined in hot lovemaking this evening. I knew that he would be on my mind all day, and I wanted to know that I would be as present in his mind. I also wanted to give him a big incentive to wrap up his business that evening as quickly as possible, so we could be together and finish what I had started. I took him in both hands as I lifted my lips to his ear. More sure of myself, feeling another surge of boldness, I playfully spoke in soft, compelling, convincing tones.

“Today, when you have your meetings, you will think of me, think of this moment, think of me touching you like this, every time you hear the word...’Excalibur.’”

He let out a gasp that seemed to have hint in it of...what? Laughter? Surprise? A combination of the two? Yes, he had taught me well, the association of words with memories and feelings, and I was taking full advantage of it.

I continued, " Every time you hear the word ‘Excalibur,’ you’ll find yourself thinking of this moment, of these sensations. Each time you say the word ‘Excalibur’ you’ll think of me, think of me, and a wave of desire will wash over you.”

I knew how his suggestions worked in me, that they sort of echoed in my mind, and my intuition told me to reinforce it with more pleasure. I bent over him one more time, and I could feel the shivers of pleasure that I was sending through him. This made me want him even more, but time was growing short and he had to leave for his first appointment.

I had a fair amount of time to think about him and the morning’s escapade during the day. Each time I replayed the scene in my head I felt a wave of desire course through me and a familiar pulsating between my legs.

I wondered where my boldness—on both accounts—had come from, but particulary the hyponsis part. Had he given me some kind of posthypnotic suggestion that impelled me to do this, something that was so out of character for me? Or was I simply an apt pupil, learning to give as good as I got? I tried to imagine him in his meetings, saying “Excalibur” and thinking of me, desiring me. Would it work? I sure hoped so. Our morning activities had lit a burning fire in me, and it was hard to concentrate on much else. I truly hoped my posthypnotic suggestion had taken, and that he found himself wanting me as much as I wanted him. It was going to be a long day.

I was in my room, anxious with anticipation; I knew he’d be returning to the hotel soon. He had given me a little preview of his latest hypnoerotic fantasy, so I knew when the phone rang it would be him, and he’d have something special in store for me. So I stretched out on the bed eagerly awaiting his call. A few minutes later, it came.

He said, “Listen to the sound of my voice. Concentrate on the sound of my voice and think of nothing else,” in his best hypnotic voice. I exhaled and immediately began to sink into a trance, almost gratefully after a long day of high anticipation and sexual tension.

He deepened the trance, his voice deep and resonant in my ear. I felt the cocooning softness, the darkness building. Then he said, “Imagine yourself a few minutes from now, coming to my room, walking down the hall, each step bringing you closer, each step increasing your anticipation. You feel the powerful bond between us pulling you along, drawing you nearer. You’re already envisioning my welcoming smile, feeling the warmth of our impending embrace.”

He knew that I’m a very visual person, and indeed I could see myself walking down the hall to his room, my anticipation building.

He continued, “With each step you take, you focus on our togetherness and the special energy that fills the room when we’re together. You can see my face in your mind’s eye; you hear my voice in your ear. You focus on the images in your mind, and let my voice carry you along, focusing on my voice, letting the words soak into you like a warm, relaxing shower. You feel the warm, loving tones of my voice in your mind, in your body. It gives you feelings of peace and the growing sensations of pleasure. With each step you take, you relax more, yet your anticipation grows. Each step brings you deeper into relaxation and deeper into arousal.”

His words were like the warm, relaxing shower that he’d just described. I was deep and going deeper, seeing the images he was painting with them.

“As you enter my room, the forces there surprise you with their intensity. The room is suffused with two powerful sensations, seemingly contradictory, but surprisingly compatible. Strong, tangible sexuality, a burning, a craving that comes from both of us. And hypnotic power. An enveloping, embracing trance that again comes from both of us. As you close the door behind you, it becomes even stronger. The sensations in the room are amazing, sending your senses reeling. It’s like being in an oven, except that it’s not hot. Like a refrigerator, but it’s not cold. The feelings seep into your bones, your body, your mind. They dance along every nerve ending. They envelop you. They thrill you.

“As you take a step towards me, you feel my nearness and the sensations grow stronger. A growing arousal and a building, enveloping trance. The two feelings grow stronger and they impel you to take the next step. Closer and closer, deeper and deeper, stronger and stronger.

“And that step causes the sensations to grow even stronger. You feel the spreading heat of arousal, the soothing embrace of the trance. The forces combine once again; they guide your foot forward, and you step into greater depths of relaxation, the pure, cocoon-like warmth of the trance. Your desire increases as well, like a conductor urging her bodily orchestra to a swelling fortissimo.”

I was almost beside myself with desire at this point. Only the trance was holding me on the bed. Yet he kept piling on the images of arousal and passion, reinforcing the delicious, crazy contrast between the ever-deepening trance and the steadily-building pressure cooker of my emotions.

“With each step you take, with each breath you take, you feel the twin forces getting stronger, ever stronger, deeper, ever deeper. Ever stronger, ever deeper.

“Until finally you stand before me, mere inches away, in the wonderfully powerful paradox of deep arousal and deep trance. You’re utterly focused on the forces that root you to the spot and implore you to go onward. You feel as if my fingers are touching you in a thousand sensitive places, and you feel them rubbing your temples, stroking your hair, relaxing you. My voice whispers words of love and passion in one ear, words of hypnotic relaxation and pleasure in the other. You feel the deep pleasure of being in this loving, embracing trance and the maddening desire, both wonderful feelings, side by side, utterly enveloping you.

“There you are, entranced and aroused, hypnotized and impassioned, swirling in the dizzying contrasts of the two powerful forces. Part of you calmly waits; part of you eagerly anticipates what comes next, as I approach you, closing the final gap between us.

“See all of this happening in your mind’s eye. Realize how much you want it to happen, this relaxing, enrapturing journey into my arms. It’s time now, time to begin, time to come to me.”

As if in a dream, I hung up the phone and made my way to the door. My mind was filled with the image of him, waiting for me, ready to satisfy this powerful longing. It had been building all day, but he had really put the icing on the cake. The hallway stretched before me, blurry and indistinct; my eyes refusing to focus. I felt like I was floating, almost tipsy, as I made my way. I was in a trance and I was hot, more than hot. But each step took me a bit deeper and ratcheted up my inner temperature even more.

He had left his door slightly ajar and I stepped in. True to his suggestion, both feelings intensified even more. I saw him sitting in a chair across the room, facing the door, watching me very closely. The intent look in his eyes and the powerful energies in the room sent me reeling, nearly knocking me over. I turned and shut, then bolted the door, taking shaky breaths and trembling a bit.

He rose from the chair and I was drawn to him almost like a magnet. When he kissed me it was as though I was dreaming about it and experiencing it at the same time. He kissed me hungrily, passionately, and I knew he was as aroused as I was.

He stroked my hair and told me to relax more, his voice giving me delicious shivers. My eyes closed again. A thrill coursed through me as he held me, caressed my breasts. I felt almost powerless to move. I could feel myself swaying; in my dreamy-floating-turned on state, I had trouble staying upright.

He picked me up to carry me to the bedroom, which surprised me. I don’t like to be picked up; it makes me feel heavy and awkward. I stiffened, and he must have realized my discomfort because he whispered in my ear, “Light as a feather, light as a feather.” That made it a little better, but I was glad when he sat down on the bed with me in his lap.

He kissed me deeply and I responded more strongly this time, having a bit more ability to move. I heard myself make a small pleasure sound as I returned his kiss.

I slipped into passive mode again as he began to undress me, just enjoying the feeling of his hands on my body and my clothes slipping away, piece by piece. He must have been taking his own clothes off at the same time, for I could feel his skin against mine as he laid me across the big bed. My eyes half-opened, looking for him, wanting to communicate my feelings from my otherwise-inert body.

He stroked my hair gently, saying, “My touch will mesmerize you and take you deeper, much deeper.”

My eyes closed again at his touch. Waves of relaxation coursed through me as his fingers traced my neck, shoulders, and arms, sending delicious shivers all over my body. I was asleep, dreaming. My body was responding to his touch, incredible levels of arousal building and building. Inside, I was begging, “Make love to me!” but my words and actions were muffled, held in check oh so gently, so lovingly, by his trance. Dreams of arousal are wonderful, and can go on and on, but would this one ever end? Was this his payback for my posthypnotic suggestion this morning?

I was hyper-relaxed and hyper-aware of him at the same time, and I felt his weight shift. His hands stroked my left thigh, which promptly went limp at his touch. Then he picked up my other leg and moved it to the side as he knelt between them. I was too entranced to hope that now would be the moment that he would take me. I was beyond ready. Way beyond.

I felt his weight shift as he aligned himself over me. I felt a gentle pressure, then he slipped inside me, filling me in one smooth motion. I think I came on that very first stroke. It was probably fitting, considering that our foreplay had lasted an entire day, but I always got a very special thrill from his first entering me. I felt myself saying yes! with my entire body, opening myself to him, engulfing him, surrounding him with my womanly warmth, thrilling to the feel of him deep inside me.

Steadily I came up through the depths of the trance as the flames that had been licking at me all day burst into fiery explosions, and I responded fully to his lovemaking.

All that pent-up sexual energy quickly expressed itself in a powerful orgasm. And another. And another. I felt as if we truly had become one—there wasn’t a “him” and a “me.” We merged into one—bodies, minds and souls joined, the pinnacle of lovers making love.

Instead of tiring, it felt like he was channeling sexual energy into me, and my orgasms became more and more intense, until I reached that indescribable level, a single, transcendent orgasm that came from deep within me and just went on and on, nearly paralyzing me with its intensity. I had only had these super-orgasms a few times before, and I was nearly out of my mind and out of my body with sheer passion and pleasure.

He became more urgent, gripping me tightly. I felt his impending orgasm build and build, taking me even higher, and when it came, it was like a final bolt of electricity, driving me higher, if higher was even possible.

He collapsed on me, our bodies sweating freely, and I welcomed his weight, holding him as tightly as I could with my exhausted arms. I finally caught my breath and gathered enough energy to tell him, “It was one of those.”

He knew about my super-orgasms, so intense that I thought it actually might be possible to pass out from sheer pleasure, although I never had. We didn’t try to make those orgasms happen, but certainly welcomed them when they did.

I thought back on the morning, and how my actions had been so out of character and how they had set in motion such an amazing, sexually charged day—and night. Had he planted an earlier posthypnotic suggestion that “made” me do it, or was his fantasy just a good idea that I somehow got the courage to try? He wouldn’t answer me when I asked him, but there was no arguing with the delicious, delightful results.

I had gone from delicately dominant to passionately passive, all in one wild, wonderful day. We added a new page to the ongoing adventure of our lovemaking. Who knows where we’ll go next?