The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

What can I tell you about myself? My name is Kim. I’m twenty-six, live in the Valley, I’m an actress.

…well…

I am an actress. My credits aren’t very long yet, but they are growing. Because I have big tits and flat abs, I do get work, usually as an extra or background eye candy. Most of my parts take half a day to shoot. You know, I’m the pretty girl two tables over in a restaurant scene. Or I’m the hot chick walking down the beach in a butt-floss bikini. Or I’m the cheerleader who hangs off the quarterback’s arm, chewing gum. Last week, I was a Viking slave girl, and I actually got a line: “No, Krom, no!” I nailed it.

When I’m not auditioning—which is often—I teach yoga. Lots of yoga. Its good income, flex hours, keeps me superbuff, and occasionally you meet someone in the industry that way. The downside is I get ogled. A lot. It used to bother me, but… well, whataddya gonna do? I once almost got a part because a casting director took my class and thought my butt would be perfect for a role. I didn’t get it… apparently some other girl has a greater butt… but it was superweird to have coffee with a talent scout and talk about how my ass could be a big star.

I live in Burbank, in a crap apartment with my boyfriend, Chet. Yes, his name is Chet. Chet is 100% California, which means he is lazy and looks good doing it. Chet is a professional trainer, so he works out about two hours a day, then “trains” gym clients for another six hours. From what he tells me, his clients are middle-aged and overweight and therefore gross, and they don’t seem to want to work that hard.

Which suits Chet just fine. I love that boy, but he really has no ambition. He fills his days doing three things: Working at the gym, reading, and getting high. Our apartment reeks.

So why am I telling you this? Because things got weird not because he is lazy or smokes weed, but because he reads really, really weird shit.

It was Friday afternoon. I had two back-to-back auditions, neither of which I got. The first was for a mom role and they wanted someone “more maternal” (whatever that means) and the second was for a space alien woman who would have to suck out peoples’ brains with her mind, or something. I have no idea what they wanted. If I got the role, they would have painted my body green and I would have something rubber stuck to my forehead. Probably a shit role anyway.

My studio didn’t have any classes to teach, so I fight Rt 101 traffic home, which mades my bad mood a billion times worse. And of course, I open my front door, and weed smoke blows into my face. Chet was home, lighting up. Now my hair smells like dope. Great.

“Hey,” I say to Chet, although I fell less-than-happy to see him. “No training today?”

“Hey babe,” he says, and exhales. Of course, he’s lounging on the couch in his shorts, a book and a joint in his hands. “Naw, my three-o-clock canceled. I didn’t feel like blasting my quads.”

Blasting your quads, I think contemptuously. Why guys talk about working out like firing heavy artillery, I don’t know.

Whatever. I flop into the armchair, and debate if I want a beer.

Chet takes another draw, then returns to his book. I eye him, annoyed. Tiff, my bestie girlfriend, has a boyfriend who works as a production exec and takes MBA classes at night. In three years, he’ll be making six figures. Why can’t my boyfriend show a little ambition?

“What are you reading?” I ask.

Chet holds up his book: “Hypnosis for You and Your Friends.”

This is like the fifth hypnosis book he’s read in a row. “What is it with you and hypnosis?” I ask incredulously.

“I just think its cool,” Chet shrugs. Then he sits up.

“Hey,” he says. “Let me hypnotize you?”

“What?” I say. This is the last thing I want my romantic other to say right now.

“Let me hypnotize you,” he presses. “Its pretty easy. I know I can do it.”

“Please,” I snort. “Even if you could do it, why would I let you hypnotize me? You want me to walk around the apartment naked all the time? Give over my money?”

Chet grins. “No, no,” he says, a little too quickly. “It doesn’t work that way.”

“Forget it,” I tell him.

He sits up and then leans forward. He puts on those puppy-dog eyes that I love. “Aw, com’on,” he coaxes. “Tell you what: You let me hypnotize you, and I’ll take you dancing tonight.”

I pause. Dancing? I would chew glass for a night of dancing with my beau and girlfriends. I can’t remember the last time we went.

“You serious?” I ask levelly.

“Totally,” Chet assures me. He leans in closer.

“…okay,” I say, stuck with the feeling that I’m somehow getting the bum end of this arrangement.

“Great!” Chet grins. “But—this is the serious part—you have to really let me hypnotize you. Don’t do it if you aren’t serious.”

“Okay, okay,” I say.

“Nice.” Chet stabs out his joint and clear space for me on the sofa. “Sit here,” he commands. “Feet on the floor.”

I sigh and do as he asks. Chet pulls the curtains and then plops down next to me.

“Sit up straight, hands on your knees,” he tells me. “Now: close your eyes.”

“For real?” I say while doing as he asks. “No pocketwatch?”

“Shut up,” he says playfully. “Now… deep breath in. Deep breath out.”

Feeling silly, I do it.

“Good,” he tells me. “Again. Now let your body relax.”

“Like—“ I start to ask.

“Don’t speak!” Chet insists. “Just breath. Relax. Follow my voice.”

I shrug inside. Chet has me breathe in and out, in and out, over and over again. He tells me how relaxed I am feeling, how good it feels to follow his instructions, blah blah blah. I begin to think that he is trying to bore me into sleep.

But I follow along. My breathing does become deeper, like in a really, really good Shavasana. My legs and then my arms feel tingly, then heavy.

“…as I count down from ten to one…” I am aware of Chet saying.

His voice drones on, but I’m not sure if I’m listening. My problems disconnect from my thoughts. I had no idea our beat-up sofa could ever feel so comfortable. But then again, my body feels both like it is made of lead and made of air at the same time. I could be floating through the sky. At one point, I think my hands physically float off my thighs, but then Chet says they are heavy again and they drop down on the cushions beside me.

“…three…” Chet’s voice says, “…two…”

I’m totally unconcerned about anything in the world.

“One!” Chet says.

I remember nothing.

Then Chet is snapping his fingers, loudly. I blink twice and rub my eyes. What the…

I remember. Chet, the big bonehead, thought he could hypnotize me. But he couldn’t have hypnotized me, because I’ve only been sitting on the sofa for, like a minute. My mind must have wandered off or something.

Yes. That’s it. I remember now. Chet said his mumbo-jumbo and I followed along, but the hypnosis didn’t have any effect on me. None. I remember the whole thing.

Chet watches me carefully. “How do you feel?” he asks.

I shrug. “Fine,” I say, after clearing my throat. “Sorry, baby.”

“Sorry for what?” Chet asks.

“That the hypnosis didn’t work,” I console him. “I’m just not a good subject.”

“Maybe not,” he says.

For a moment, I actually feel sorry for him. Chet can be adorable, in a sad puppy-dog way.

But the moment passes. “Anyway,” I say, “you want to get ready?”

Chet raises his eyebrows.

“For dancing,” I remind him. “I’ll contact the girls, we should go to—“

“You sure you want to go dancing?” says Chet.

“You promised,” I reminded him.

“Yeah, but… homebody,” Chet says, pronouncing the last word very deliberately.

My mind goes blank or a moment. Dancing? Why do I want to go dancing?

“We should stay in,” I say immediately.

Chet smiles slightly. “You’re sure, babe?” he asks.

“Omigod,” I tell him. “Dancing is so lame.” The more I think about it, the more I’m amazed I ever wanted to go. Why would anyone want to go dancing?

“We should stay in,” I insist. To convince him, I lean forward, and make sure my breasts press against his arm.

Chet grins ear-to-ear. “Sure,” he says, and I love him a little more than usual. I lean in, and give him a big, wet, deep kiss. He is getting hard, I can tell.

The kiss finally breaks. “So…” I say, feeling randy, “what are we going to do?”

“I have some ideas,” he says, and leans back. “Kim? Natural.”

He pronounces “Natural” slowly and deliberately, as if inventing the word for the first time.

Once again, my mind goes blank.

Suddenly I realize: I am overdressed! I look down. I’m in the tee-shirt and jeans I wore to the auditions. Why am I wearing these? This is way too much clothes.

“Hold on,” I tell Chet, and quickly strip off my shirt. As he eyes me (I don’t mind), I hop to my feet, unzip my jeans, and shimmy out of them. I feel sexy, and shake my hips a little more than usual to give Chet a show.

My shirt, jeans, and shoes on the floor, I look down at my body. I look good, I mean really, really good. But something still doesn’t feel quite… right…

“Chet, baby,” I say, wondering how to express what’s in my head. “You mind if I take everything off?”

Chet shakes his head, grinning broadly.

Wasting no time, I unhook my bra and drop it to the floor. My girls feel liberated and bounce for joy once they are freed. Another quick shimmy, and my panties are off too. I feel a relief inside. It is so natural to be naked.

Chet is openly staring at my body. Normally I would snap at him for this, but today I love his eyes on my body. I giggle and twirl around, making sure to jiggle my tits and ass for him. It feels good to please him; I don’t know why.

“Very nice, baby,” smirks Chet. I giggle some more.

He gestures, and I lean over him. We kiss again, another long, wet one. His hands cup my breasts. I can feel myself getting wet. I want him to fuck me.

But he holds the kiss for almost a minute. I moan softly, hoping he’ll get the message and take me to our bedroom. His other hand slides between my knees and then up my inner thighs. The skin of his hand nudges my wetness.

But then he breaks the kiss and leans back. “Back to normal!” he commands, and snaps his fingers.

I don’t know what happens, but I suddenly I feel like cold water hits my face. What the fuck…? I am naked, acting like a porno bimbo, throwing myself at my shiftless boyfriend! The hell???

Thoughts of sex vanish like a soap bubble. I’m furious, furious at myself for acting so stupid. What was I thinking? And I’m furious at Chet, who is now laughing at me. I was just shaking my tits at this loser; what the hell?

He must have tricked me, I think. Did I drink that beer? Did he get me drunk?

No, I don’t feel drunk. Just embarrassed and angry.

Cursing, I snatch my clothes. My fingers tremble with rage and humiliation as I try to thread my legs back into my panties.

“Babe, babe,” Chet says, standing up, “I’m sorry. Don’t be mad.” He stands and moves next to me.

“Shut the fuck up,” I tell him.

“Hey,” he tells me gently, taking my arm. “Its okay. I was just having some fun.”

“You’re an asshole,” I say, and I mean it.

“Naw,” Chet tells me. “Hey, look at me. Seriously, look at me.”

I hesitate. I’m still naked, and I want nothing to do with him. But I look into his eyes anyway.

Suddenly, I can’t look away.

“I’m sorry,” he tells me. I don’t reply.

“You feel okay,” Chet says. “Look deeper into my eyes, please. Deeper and deeper… Deeper and deeper…”

His eyes seem to grow and recede at the same time. My arms and fingers relax, and my panties drop back to the carpet. My anger melts away; I feel relaxation sweeping over me. I can’t resist.

“Sleep,” Chet commands me, and my eyes shut.

And then Chet is snapping his fingers and I come back to life. I am leaning against my boyfriend, allowing his muscle-bound arms to support me against his body. I am still naked.

I stand on my own, brushing the cobwebs from my mind. I’m momentarily confused, but the feeling passes.

“How do you feel?” Chet asks me.

“Oh, yeah,” I say, collecting my thoughts, “I’m good.”

“Nice,” he says and a wicked look crosses his face. I know that look; he’s horny.

But I’m not. I’m naked, but I’m still a little freaked out about all the weirdness that’s been going on. I try to step away, step out of his grasp.

“Hey,” he says softly. His hand slides down my body and cups my buttock. I can feel him getting hard.

“Chet; I’m not in the mood,” I warn him. Which is the truth.

“I want you,” he tells me.

I push him away, a little. His hand is still clamped onto my ass.

Growling a little, he says, “I want you… slave.”

I blink. “Yes master,” I say, automatically. I stop pushing him.

He kisses me, squeezing my butt even more. He is hard as a rock now. I’m a little confused… but not alarmed.

“Spread your legs, slave,” he orders.

“Yes master,” I say, and obey him. His hand circles around my hips, and two of his fingers dip into my pussy. I am already wet.

Normally I would never let any man penetrate me while standing. But Chet has some weird power over me. As I feel his fingers inside me, a wave a pleasure kisses my vagina and washes over me. I gasp, feel my eyes close, and lean against him. His fingers are barely inside me, but I come close to cumming right then.

Chet grunts. “Suck me,” he commands me.

“Yes master.” Without thinking, I sink to my knees before him. My fingers peel off his shorts and his erect penis springs forward. I suck it eagerly with greedy swallows. I am so happy to pleasure him.

Chet moans, loudly. His fingers dig into my hair as my head bobs back and forth. He mumbles incomprehensible things: “Oh my god baby you are so hot I knew you could be hypnotized you will be my hypnotized slave forever we have to bring your girlfriends over so I can mind-fuck them too oh god you are so good my slave my little—“ His voice erupts into a roar of delight as he cums in my mouth. It is like receiving a fire hose. I suck even harder, gulping him down.

“Oh my god,” Chet gasps. His body is shaking. I smile with pleasure.

“Into the bedroom,” he orders.

I rise to my feet. “Yes master.”

Soon I am on our bed, on all fours, my ass hanging over the edge. Chet has placed me this way, and now stands behind me, his hands on my hips. Amazingly, he is fully erect again. He clearly means to enter me from behind. I don’t like doggie, and I’ve never wanted to do anal. But I also know I will do whatever he wants. He is my master.

Chet strokes my hips with his fingertips, while allowing his tip to just kiss my wet pussy. Each tiny contact is a mini-orgasm, I swear to God.

“Kim, when I snap my fingers,” Chet says from behind me, “you will realize that you are tied to the bed. The harder you try to pull away, the tighter you are tied in place.”

This makes no sense to me, but I am too horny to think about it. I want him to plunge inside me, so so so badly. “Yes master,” I say, although I am unaware of speaking.

Chet does snap his fingers, and suddenly I realize there are strong, velvet ropes bound about my wrists, my knees, and my ankles. They are tight but not painful. But I can’t move any of my limbs.

“I can’t move!” I gasp.

“Fuck yeah,” Chet exclaims, and rams into me. Oh, does it feel good! He hammers away. My arms and legs are immobilized, and all I can do is lean back into his cock. I want to lean into his cock. I want it to slam inside me again and again and split me open. I want to cum all over his member.

Again Chet is mumbling. “Kim you are my slave,” he groans. “You are my willing slave, do you hear me?”

“Yes master!” I cry.

“You will obey all my commands,” Chet says, pumping me even harder. I am close.

“Y-y-yes master!” I tell him.

“Say it!” he spits.

“I w-w-will obey all your c-c-commands, master!!!” I half-yell, half-moan. I can feel the orgasm rising up inside me. I am so aroused, I literally don’t care what I am saying. “I am your slave!”

“Yes!” Chet shouts, and I feel his body shake as he cums.

I am close, but not there yet. “Oh please master,” I beg, fucking him even harder. “Please…!”

“Cum NOW!” he commands me.

All of my senses overload as the single biggest orgasm of my life explodes within my body. I shout with pleasure and feel all of my muscles spasm at once. The ropes holding me seem to dissolve. I am gushing with chemical joy. I must be hosing Chet down.

Amazingly, he can keep going. He grabs my hips again and flips me onto my back. I am still reeling from my orgasm and barely can tell. He rams back inside me, now on top of me. Again, me speaks nonsense: “Kim you will be hypnotized every night I want you to be my slave you can’t resist my power over you fuck me so hard bitch oh yeah you are mine oh god.”

“Yes master!” I cry out over and over.

Chet cums again, and I swear the bed almost collapses from the strain.

Gasping, my master pulls out and rolls off me. “Oh god,” he mutters over and over again.

I am collecting my own thoughts, which are scattered everywhere. My body is shimmering head-to-toe with absolute pleasure. Chet is my master, I think of myself. I have to do whatever he tells me. The thought makes me smile. Amazingly, I’m overjoyed to be a slave.

My master’s slave.

Chet catches his breath, then rolls on his side to face me. I smile like a little girl.

“Are you happy, master?” I ask coyly.

He grins, that big dopey grin. “Sleep,” he orders me.

My eyes fall shut.