The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Daniel had always had a thing about tall girls. Even as a lad at school he had lusted after Carry and Joanne, the two tallest girls in his class. They had, of course, not looked twice at him, not in that way. Oh, they had been friendly enough, liked him, worked with him on projects, shared jokes and enjoyed exam success together. But they were hardly likely to want to go out with a five foot three spotty boy with bad hair, not when there were so many tall handsome boys in the school: and even if there hadn’t been... probably not anyway.

It was the same at uni. He could have gone out with short girls but he simply did not fancy them. He wanted the tall girls. It was not that he wanted to be dominated by someone bigger than himself: though he might have accepted that. He just liked tall girls, preferably blond but that was not essential, tall with long legs. He was a leg man, more than a tits man.

So Daniel had never had a girl friend and here he was working in an office at twenty-five, a frustrated virgin, still lusting after the tall girls. Actually it was worse than that, lusting after leggy, lanky Simmone who worked in the same unit as he did. She was six foot four and a half in her stockinged feet. He knew the measurement exactly, as it was him who measured her at the last Christmas Party. It had got a bit wild! Yes, wild enough to get the measuring tapes out! It was not, perhaps, the most exciting of firms and the staff’s idea of fun could be a little tame.

He’d mentioned Simmone to his flatmate, Chris, who had frankly laughed when he had hinted, when he was rather drunk, that he fancied her. “Your face wouldn’t come any higher than her bush,” he’d said rather crudely. Daniel actually could not think of anything much more exciting than having his face pressed against Simmone’s warm curly hairs, his nose and mouth buried—but he certainly didn’t mention that to Chris. That was assuming she didn’t shave. He’d love to know that. He’d love to find all sorts of things about her.

Simmone had a rather boyish figure; hips fairly flat and chest to match. But her legs were wonderful and she knew it. Where she found those jeans from Daniel did not know but they flowed tightly over her legs following the contours closely right up and over her small bottom. And the days she wore a skirt, well, that made her legs seem, if anything, longer than when they were in jeans. From her shoes her legs just came on, up and up, until they disappeared into the short skirt she wore. Daniel liked to follow those legs up with his eyes until they disappeared and wonder what lay above and beyond. Her legs seemed to go on forever, like staring up at infinity.

It was a hot summer’s day, a day that tends to bring the girls out in summer dresses and pretty frocks. Simmone was no exception. Daniel was almost open-mouthed at her yellow cotton dress. It seemed to him to float around her, the skirt swishing against her long tanned legs as she moved. Higher up, the slight swell of her breasts was visible where the neck swept down to a square cut across her bust. He particularly liked the way the waist was gathered in with a wide ribbon of the same material done up in a big bow to the rear. He wanted to undo the bow. She wore yellow shoes to match and as these had heels they made her even taller. Normally Simmone wore short heels showing she was conscious of her height but today she seemed happy to emphasise it. Daniel loved that—it was difficult for him to keep his eyes off her.

Simmone was talking near his desk to a colleague so he could watch her. Her talk was animated, her body moving in accord. Her legs at first together, moved apart. Daniel stared at her legs; he loved just to look at those knees. Simmone lifted one foot up, her knee bending to a right angle as she stood on one leg before putting it down again. It was something she did when she was talking—probably had done it since she was a little girl—Daniel knew her mannerisms and some of her little habits. His eyes slipped upwards to her thigh between knee and dress, the skin looked so soft and it had such a lovely golden tan. He thought of how soft the skin would be to the touch, he wondered about where the tan stopped and the skin become pale again - did it? He wondered about such things a lot. As he stared he imagined his hand resting on her right knee and then ever so slowly gliding up the inside of her thigh, under the thin yellow cotton dress, running his fingers up the smooth skin until he could feel the other thigh with the back of his hand just before his fingertips touched the slight bulge of her cotton panties—or were they silk? His trousers felt tight under the desk as, in his imagination, his fingertips softly pulled at the material, pulling the elastic so they could slip in to feel soft hairs and then wetness, hot wetness and.... Simmone was looking at him looking at her. He hurriedly turned back to his computer screen feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up his face.

Did Simmone know of his interest, his lust? She had caught him looking at her before, but of course they worked together so there was reason for him to be with her He had not dared ask her out, he feared the rejection—it was better being able to entertain the possibility than know there was no hope. .

He needed her: his need was not deliverable. His frustration at the impossible goal was made worse when their manager reorganised the seating plan so she came to sit opposite him. In one way Daniel was pleased as she was nearer but he had to be so careful not to look up too readily and be caught looking at her without any apparent reason.

Daniel sat in his flat, a cooling mug of coffee in front of him, the television off, just thinking and trying to reconcile his need with reality. He needed to touch Simmone, he needed to feel Simmone, he needed to... There was the loud rattle of the key in the lock and the door banged back on its hinges. Chris staggered in.

“Wotcha mate, dead in here, i’nit?” He made a fairly straight attempt at the sofa and flopped down next to Chris.”

“Huh, couple of mates down at t’pub. Yer should’ve come.”

Daniel would not have wanted to—had he been asked. The pub was all right some evenings but not too often. Drowning his sorrows was not his way. He preferred to face them—or at least sit and brood about Simmone. To be honest it was not just Simmone. He looked at other tall girls. That, though, was his lust and Simmone did enjoy the poll position—a head above the competition.

“It’s that bleedin’ Simon i’nit? Watcha want is something to knock her down to size—to see yer. A quick thwack behind the knees should do it.” He laughed.

It was true. Simmone just did not see him. Just a short nobody at the office. He needed something to ‘thwack’ her behind the knees.

Chris went for a can from the ‘fridge and switched on the TV. By the time ‘Star Trek—the Next Generation’ was finished Chris was fast asleep. Daniel thought of getting up to switch it off and go to bed but that required movement and he could not be bothered. The next programme started. Daniel was hardly listening but the word ‘hypnotism’ caught his ear and his attention came back to the television.

It was a very formal highbrow discussion. Not an obvious something to schedule right after ‘Star Trek’ but ‘The Next Generation’ seemed a late night filler for any time of night. The debate revolved around the degree to which hypnotism could work, its efficacy, its practical application, the benefit in enabling people to stop smoking, cure fears of flying or the dentist and its wrongful application. It was the latter that particularly caught Daniel’s interest.

Could he hypnotise Simmone? He could hardly swing a pocket watch in front of her and ask her to follow it with her eyes. She might, just possibly, spot what he was trying to achieve. No things needed to be a lot more subtle. Not so much a ‘thwack’ across the back of the knees as the repeated application of a feather to make her crumple. He very much wanted her to crumple.

Daniel left Chris snoring on the sofa, feeling much happier and with a plan in mind.

Plans made at two a.m. in the morning do not look so feasible, well thought out or, sometimes, even remotely sensible in the cold light of a morning. How could Daniel introduce the ‘suggestive medium’ before providing the commands? The idea of ‘commands’ excited him though he was not sure he would rather be commanded. He certainly had a recurring fantasy of being Simmone’s plaything. Sent to do this, fetch that, bring that but so often naked with his cock available for her ready use. Simmone would reward him or use him in a casual manner. A particular favourite was being used to bring her to climax after her big (tall) lover had failed. He visualized her lying naked on her bed, sweaty and frustrated with her thighs lolling open, semen dripping from her looking reproachfully at her big (tall) lover all spent and useless (soft) as she commanded Daniel to finish her off. Sometimes he would imagine himself simply lying on top of her and sinking into her already well-lubricated vagina, slippery from her failed lover’s exertions. Daniel would come fiercely, his cock puddling his stomach. Other times he would be commanded to go down on her as if she relished making him taste her lover’s spendings. Daniel knew he was reacting to her ignoring him, developing this into her humiliating him in his mind. He did not want that, he wanted a proper relationship with Simmone or, failing that, he wanted her as his plaything—though, he could admit to himself, he would settle for the humiliation if it meant he saw her naked and could have sex with her.

The local library did not help him. Yes, there were books on hypnosis but nothing on how to approach the subject surreptitiously. Daniel was not greatly surprised. Internet research, though, was more fruitful. Dr. Abe Krugrander’s research into intermittent light patterns as a conditioning method caught his eye. He read avidly. The idea that different subjects were susceptible to different frequencies or intervals of light pulses was believable. It was also not surprising that the difference between migraine inducing patterns and hypnotic patterns was not great. Dr Abe did not say that the effect was in any way total control rather it opened the subject to suggestion and the implanting of ideas. This was a pity, as Daniel certainly had had thoughts of instant control. He had fantasised sitting across the desk from a blank-eyed Simmone and carefully saying,

“You will visit me tonight for dinner. First you will take a long hot bath perfumed with sandalwood then you will don your long white coat and yellow shoes—but nothing else. You will drive to my flat and knock on the door. When I ask whether I may take your coat you will accept and not be at all perturbed at being naked with me over dinner. Afterwards you will become excited and do your utmost to seduce me.”

Usually the fantasy did not get too far beyond this point—just the image in his mind of those long legs rising to their termination revealed as Simmone unbelted her coat and handed it to him was enough to make Daniel explode in his hand. Getting so far as to sit opposite her and chat whilst her sweet little breasts bobbed about over her salad was rare and actually to reach the point of imagining sex was something that virtually never happened. It was of course all in his imagination. He did not know what her breasts looked, like let alone what nestled between her small hips.

Daniel set about trying the idea of hypnotic pulses of light. A low level flashing LED with a variable controller was not actually that difficult to make after examining electronics catalogues, visiting Maplin and making some Internet orders. It had to look unobtrusive and normal. It would not do for some obviously strange gizmo to be sitting on his desk pointing at Simmone and flashing lights. Colleagues would ask about it, Simmone would ask about it, his boss would tell him to take it away.

It sat on his computer, a dim LED facing away from Daniel but directly at Simmone, on its other side a clock face accurately telling the time and pointing at Daniel.

Daniel’s problem was to find the frequency for Simmone—if it worked at all of course—and do it without her complaining about the flashing light. That was why it was quite dim, he was concerned that might affect its efficacy. It would have to be trial and error. He was patient, more patient than most would have been, gently adjusting the frequency in the morning and at lunchtime hoping to see an effect. There was none on the first day, none on the second, none a fortnight later, none a month later but still he made adjustments.

He still had hopes that really she liked him despite her seeming to ignore him unless she had to speak to him. That was dashed one afternoon when he overheard a conversation referring to ‘that little creep Daniel always watching me,’ and the reply ‘you should speak to HR.’ Daniel was shocked to find he was so obvious and worse to discover Simmone’s attitude.

He was in a cold sweat wondering what he should do—rejection and possible investigation coming at him all at once. He thought of taking his clock away though she had never mentioned it, never commented on the light always winking at her. Days passed in which he was careful to hardly glance at Simmone. Nothing happened but it had been a shock.

It was the morning before the May Bank Holiday weekend when he looked up from his work and saw Simmone sitting there at her desk looking pale, “You OK, Simmone?” he said with real concern.

“No, no Daniel I have a blinding headache I think I’ll go and lie down.” She got up and swayed away. He heard later she had gone home with a migraine.

“Oh, yes I have those,” Cathy had said from a few desks along to Maggie, “but Simmone says she’s never had one before.”

A tentative smile of triumph spread over Daniel’s face. Perhaps, just perhaps his LED device, his suggestive medium, was working after all. He carefully adjusted the frequency a little further.

His excitement to see what would happen Tuesday morning spoilt the long weekend. He had wanted it over.

“I hope your headache’s better,” he had said to Simmone pleasantly.

“Um, yes thanks,” was all the reply he got for his concern.

Simmone did not get a headache that morning but, on the other hand, she did not look any different from any other day. However a further slight adjustment brought a change in the afternoon. Daniel glanced up in the afternoon and saw Simmone shaking her head as if trying to ward off sleep. He looked back at his work. Was it working? Simmone was sitting there looking a bit puzzled as if she could not quite focus, could not quite get on with her work but did not know why.

“You all right Simmone?” He’d asked, “Shall I get you something, a cup of tea.”

“Sort of. Think so. I don’t like tea.”

Daniel risked trying a suggestion, “surely you do like tea.”

“No, don’t think so.”

“Yes you do, shall I get you a cup?”

“Please, but I don’t think I do.”

He was back with the cup fairly quickly and round at her desk he could see the LED flashing and her eyes coming back to it.

She sipped.

“Is that OK?”

“Thanks.”

He left her and after a few minutes back at his desk switched the LED to a different pattern. Enough for one day he thought.

The next morning about ten thirty he got up, looked across at Simmone and asked if she would like a cup of tea. She looked startled,

“I don’t much like tea, Daniel, so no thanks.”

“You did yesterday.”

“Not much.”

“You sure?”

“Well, if you’re making one.”

Daniel was sure the suggestion and therefore his, or Dr. Abe’s idea, was working—but slowly. He reinforced it over the next few days and was delighted to note a change in her habit. The Nescafe jar was replaced by a box of tea bags.

Daniel was not sure if he had got quite the right frequency and tried a further slight increase when Simmone was away from her desk. He gave her a few minutes to settle when she returned and then looked up and saw she was staring fixedly at his machine. For a moment he was worried it had finally annoyed her but she did not say anything.

“You all right today, Simmone?”

Her reply in rather a monotone was encouraging, “Yes thank you, Daniel.” Her fixed stare did not change.

What was Daniel to say next? He had no idea of the strength of what he had now achieved, whether Simmone was actually open to more significant suggestion or anything.

“Why don’t you talk to me more?” he asked from the heart.

“I don’t really like you Daniel, I try not to talk to you.”

The reply was a blow but undoubtedly truthful. Daniel’s heart leaped—his machine certainly was working.

“I really would like it if you did talk to me more, it would make work here better.” He did not know how far to push this, could he instruct her? “Please do speak to me more.”

He went back to his work and a few minutes later looked up again. Simmone hadn’t moved. It was lucky in a modern office people do stare at computer screens or the lack of movement might have been noticed. He adjusted the LED away from the carefully noted frequency that seemed to show success. After a few moments he heard movement but he did not look up.

Later that afternoon he was startled to hear a voice behind him.

“Nice clock, Daniel,” Simmone had said—she had actually spoken to him without him initiating the exchange.

Daniel left the office a little before Simmone. Actually he had not really left. He liked to wait sometimes in the foyer reading until she left so he could follow her a little down the street fantasising about her long legs. She was in a skirt today, sitting well above her knee so there was a lot of leg to look at. He followed watching her bottom sway a little in her skirt, the tight muscles moving, her brown smooth thighs at work and the backs of her knees bending and straightening. She turned right; he turned left at the junction. It was always a pleasant few minutes only marred that day by the tall young man who had joined Simmone and put his arm around her waist—the waist Daniel wanted to put his arm own around—and worse, had patted her bottom.

But this did not annoy him as much as it would have done any other day because his plan did seem to be starting to work. He was unsure how to proceed. He would have to be careful. Not move too fast. It would be a disaster if he made a suggestion, which startled her from her trance or she did not go along with when the crunch came. He rejected ideas such as getting her to work late, finding it too hot and deciding, as no-one was there (apart from Daniel and surely he would not mind being so nice) to work in the ‘altogether’ or suggesting they go for a walk in the park and asking him to put the sun cream on her legs.

Back at the flat Daniel had hardly got in, was still thinking of what suggestions to make, when Chris asked him if he wanted to go down the pub. Of course he didn’t really want to go, he wanted to think, but was persuaded. He was totally unprepared for the shock of Simmone coming into his local with her boyfriend. He did not think she lived nearby and there was no obvious reason for her to be there, but he could hardly miss her as she came into the pub. His eyes never missed a tall girl and he did not miss ‘his’ girl coming in. Their eyes met, she saw him, looked surprised but came over to talk. He hardly knew what to say but Chris was never lost for words—even if they were not the right ones.

“Yer must be Simon, Daniel’s told me a lot about yer.”

Daniel had blushed bright crimson. What a total disaster.

“All nice I hope,” she had laughed but given him an odd look before going back to her friend.

Simmone had spoken to him but Chris had blundered in and revealed he talked about her—a lot. Disaster time.

She continued to look at him oddly the next day at work too—but did, at least speak to him but it was not an easy question, “Why do you keep looking at me, why had you talked to your friend about me?”

Daniel made a rather jumbled reply about talking a lot and he didn’t think he particularly looked at her. It was unsatisfactory and he had quickly scuttled back to his desk pretending to be very busy - though not so busy as to fail to turn the machine on. He heard her come back to her seat and waited quite a few minutes before risking glancing up. She was in her trance. Daniel took a deep breath.

“Simmone, I don’t think you want to worry about me looking at you or talking about you. You don’t need to worry about that at all. I’m harmless. Not a worry to you, really not a worry to you at all.”

The change was not dramatic and only just noticeable, perhaps only to Daniel who was desparate to see a softening of Simmone’s attitude to him. Of course he reinforced it. Every other day he quietly told her, as she sat there rather blankly, how harmless he was, that he was not a worry to her and that, moreover, he was a friend she could trust, really trust.

The change was slow and subtle but colleagues did pick up on it and were surprised. They had not missed Daniel’s interest or Simmone’s irritation and were surprised at the rapprochement and occasional laughter of a shared joke. They talked amongst themselves, as office gossips will.

Simmone’s disappearance for a holiday with her boyfriend was not good for Daniel. He worried the conditioning would wear off, he did not like the idea of Simmone being away with another man and, of course, he missed her. This is not to say he did not look at other girls—especially tall girls—while she was away.

Simmone clearly had a lovely time and brought a CD of holiday photos in to show her friends—though not Daniel. Leaving the CD on her desk whilst she went to lunch was a bit careless or reckless. Daniel did not miss it sitting there and quietly borrowed it for a quick burn. Within minutes he had a copy and the CD was returned.

Daniel did not risk restarting the conditioning on Simmone’s first day back. That could wait. He had a CD of photographs to look through. He could hardly contain his excitement.

It was an enjoyable evening for Daniel going through Simmone’s holiday photos. Yes, he was jealous of the boyfriend—but he put that to one side—he was able to see a very different Simmone away from work and the office. A Simmone on the beach, a Simmone at the restaurant, a Simmone sightseeing, a Simmone water skiing. Daniel took in for the first time the full length of her long legs right from sandy toes to bikini bottoms. He ogled her long thighs and wondered if the skin was not so brown under the bikini. He was also able to see, and these were not pictures Simmone had showed to her colleagues, Simmone topless on the beach. Indeed Daniel was seeing a lot more of Simmone than he had could have hoped before. Digital images can be zoomed into surprising close up and these photos had been taken at quite a high resolution. Daniel could zoom in closer to Simmone than he had ever dared be—and not just to her face. He could zoom in to see the droplets of water on her chest from swimming, the fine hairs on her long legs or where the thin material of her bikini ended and the soft skin of her legs appeared.

The discovery of the topless pictures quite took his breath away. It was clear she did not normally go topless as her little breasts - and they were not very big—were quite white compared to the rest of her though, and Daniel zoomed right in here, her nipples and areolae were a light coffee colour. Poor Daniel was rock hard as he gazed at one picture where beads of perspiration stood out on her chest and Simmone looked coyly at the camera, which was angled from a little below, emphasising her height. Judicious editing resulted in a perfect image for his laptop’s wallpaper. Not of course his work laptop—he could not imagine the embarrassment of that image being discovered on his machine and to have his colleagues and Simmone all staring at him.

There were no improper pictures on the disk. Daniel had wondered, as he discovered the topless pictures, whether he might find some intimate shots or a video but he was to be disappointed. The CD contained only normal and proper holiday shots.

The LED began to flash again the next afternoon.

“I’m glad you had a great holiday,” said Daniel, “I’d have liked to have seen your photos. Why didn’t you show them to me?”

Simmone was staring blankly at the LED. “I didn’t think you’d be interested. They were just holiday snaps.”

Daniel was pleased—the response to the machine had been immediate. He was relieved; the reason she had not shown him the pictures was not that she did not want to show them to him. That would have been her attitude before he had started the conditioning. His suggestions, his changing of her attitudes had not worn off over the holiday. “You know I am to be trusted, quite harmless to you, someone you don’t have to worry about, a friend, a good friend.”

Simmone no longer seemed to mind when she caught him looking at her. Instead of a frown he got a friendly smile or perhaps she would begin talking. It was so much better than before. It was difficult sometimes not to look, such as when the team had visited the pub to celebrate Ally’s birthday and Simmone had sat on a bar stool. Her skirt was surprisingly short that day and from Daniel’s position the length of brown nylon clad thigh revealed was considerable. He was not alone in the pub in noticing—her legs caught the interest of just about every man present. Daniel had tried not to stare but his eyes kept being drawn back to Simmone’s legs, the way her muscles flowed under her skin shaping what he saw, their remarkable length, the way the nylon stretched over her knee cap so it appeared a lighter colour just there and the way she swung her shoe on her toes as she talked to her friend, Ally. It was difficult to keep involved in the conversation at his table with such distraction. He looked up again and Simmone caught his eye, smiled and waved at him. It was so different from before; Ally turned and looked at him with a puzzled expression.

The routine of conditioning continued each day, though only for a short while each time. He was careful with Simmone. Daniel had no idea of the effect of extended exposure to the blinking light and his voice. Dr. Abe was not greatly enlightening in what Daniel could find to read. He wondered how far the good doctor had got with his own experiments?