The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I

“I appreciate your offer to write a piece about me,” Ms. Stone said, with a smile. She crossed one leg over the other, and Lily smiled back at her. “But you should know that you aren’t the first journalist to plan a slice-of-life piece about me.”

Lily supposed it ought to be true—but she’d done quite a bit of research before calling Vivian Stone with her pitch two weeks earlier. In the many keyword searches she’d ran, she’d found that interviews with Ms. Stone were scarce, and slice-of-life pieces non-existent. She’d had some success as a freelance journalist to date, and all of it had come from her ability to find holes—places where there should have been stories about a topic, but for whatever reason, none existed. Vivian Stone had seemed like an obvious one—if Lily could crack the story on her, she’d go from middling-to-moderate success to finally starting to get name recognition in the public eye. Maybe even take a big step towards turning ‘Lily Clark’ into a household name. As a woman with some ambition, it seemed like the perfect story to launch her career to the next level. And, as a woman with some ambition, she was always looking for opportunities to do that.

So it didn’t entirely surprise her that other aspiring journalists might have looked at Ms. Stone and seen the same opportunity. What had surprised her was that no one had yet done it. She’d scoured search engines and catalogues, every corner of the Internet she could think of, but had only met with surface-level, shallow stories that were always along the same lines. Ms. Stone ran a successful hypnosis show. Ms. Stone offered hypnotic services to private clients on the side. Ms. Stone’s client roster included some of the more well-known household names around—actresses, actors, designers, politicians, to name a few categories. Such and such a well-known figure had been seen leaving a property of Ms. Stone’s. Ms. Stone’s latest hypnosis show had been recorded and it was going into syndication. Ms. Stone’s syndicated hypnosis show had received stellar ratings. Etc. Etc.

But there was very little about the woman herself in the media, or about her daily activities. Vivian Stone was something of a niche figure, it was true, but most people had at least heard her name once or twice, or had watched part of one of her televised hypnosis shows. It was the perfect story for Lily—a character with some notoriety, with links to bigger names, whose personal life was almost a complete mystery. What it would mean for her to be the one to unravel the mystery! She could taste the headlines that would be written about her, the author who finally shared Vivian Stone’s private life with the world. She could taste the citations that would be pulled from her article, could taste the calls and pieces that would be offered to her in reward for this one. In five years, when she had permanently escaped obscurity and became an extremely well-known and successful journalist, she could point back to this moment, this story, as the turning point in her career. The turning point in her life.

“I’m not surprised to hear that,” Lily said. “I am surprised that none of those pieces were ever published.”

Vivian flashed her perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth. “Ultimately, none of those journalists were interested in going forward with publishing the story. They lost interest. I suppose I was too boring for them.”

That was almost impossible to believe. Many words could be used to describe Vivian Stone—beautiful, mysterious, aloof (and Lily was already running through adjectives in the back of her mind to think of an original way to describe her in her article)—but boring was not one of them. She was a petite woman, shorter than Lily herself, if they were standing, but she had a cool elegance about her. An elegance that should have been alien to a woman who recorded and televised novelty hypnosis shows, but somehow... wasn’t.

“I should caution you before you proceed with interviewing and shadowing me for this story, however,” Vivian added, as if the thought had just occurred to her. “You won’t publish the story either. You’ll lose interest before that, just like they did. Are you still interested in shadowing me?”

Scoffing at the foolishness of the journalists who had come before her, and passed up what could have been the story of their careers, Lily beamed at Vivian. “Very interested.”

I I

After both Vivian and Lily had agreed to the piece, Vivian had surprised Lily by offering to keep her as a houseguest in order to give her a more honest view of her life. She offered Lily one of the many guest rooms in her downtown townhouse, a room which had probably cost more to furnish than Lily made in a year, and Lily accepted.

For the first week of staying with her, and shadowing her nearly constantly, not much had revealed itself. She had followed Vivian into business meetings, lunches with colleagues, even dinners with friends. All of the characters who populated Vivian Stone’s life had similar things to say about her as Lily had read in all the articles—Ms. Stone was a graceful woman, she was a consummate professional, she was a kind friend. Lily had diligently asked them every original question she had, questions she had carefully crafted, but no new tidbits of information, or hints of scandal had presented themselves. By the end of that week, she was starting to feel a bit frustrated.

Luckily, that weekend, Vivian informed her she had an appointment with a client scheduled that Saturday afternoon—and Lily was welcome to sit in and observe one of her exclusively priced sessions.

The client was a nobody as far as Lily was concerned—some woman named Alisha, an ordinary middle-aged working professional. But the chance to see a private hypnosis session run by Vivian Stone was the news-worthy item; not one peep had ever leaked into the press about what these sessions where like, or how they were run. Lily jumped at it.

Vivian apparently held her sessions in the same living room she had spoken to Lily in, and on Saturday afternoon, as they were finishing a lunch together in Vivian’s stylish kitchen, they were informed by her personal assistant that Alisha was waiting in the living room for the session to begin, and had already paid upfront.

The both made their way to the living room for the appointment, but Vivian paused at the door and turned to Lily.

“I suppose I should give you a content advisory here; my sessions with Alisha can often border on... sexual.”

Lily’s eyes widened at the confession. Ms. Stone’s private sessions were often advertised as “self-help” sessions, “life-coaching” sessions, or “healing” sessions. She did not bill herself as a purveyor of sexual kink. In fact, her hypnosis shows were almost too clean cut and lacked even the barest hint of what could be called sexual. Lily smelled a scandal. Clean-cut Vivian Stone was secretly working in the sex industry, and using false advertising to lure in clients! Now THERE was a story.

“Is that why she comes to you?” Lily asked, with complete professional decorum. “Are the two of you intimate?”

Vivian laughed. “No, not like that. Ms. Alisha was concerned about sexual repression when she first came to see me. I’m helping her lower her inhibitions to become a more sensual, vivacious woman. To empower her in her daily life. My methods may be slightly unorthodox, but Ms. Alisha signed a waiver at the beginning of our work together—as all my clients do—and the process has been quite successful so far. I’m only warning you because our work can be very sensual; it’s not uncommon for Ms. Alisha to experience orgasm, and I didn’t want you to be shocked. Do you think it will be too strange for you?”

Still salivating over this obvious scandal in the making, Lily nodded quickly, and then followed Vivian into the room.

Alisha looked like a typical working professional in her early 30s. Her makeup was impeccable, but only used earth tones; her hair was stylish but nondescript. Her clothes, clean and pressed, but with no pieces that were particularly memorable. She and Vivian embraced like old friends, Vivian introduced Alisha to Lily and explained her presence at the session—and then the appointment began.

“I’m using my usual induction for you today,” Vivian said, taking her seat on her purple wingback chair, as Alisha retook her place on the periwinkle couch that Lily had sat on just over a week ago. “It’s raining, and you can hear the raindrops hit the pavement. They pound relentlessly down on every surface they can find. Even when they hit a roof, or a tree branch, they don’t stop. They always find the quickest path to the ground—you can hear them running off of roof edges, running down drain pipes, slipping across pavement to find openings to the sewers. No matter what obstacles get in their way, they always pass them—they always find a way to go deeper.”

Lily was torn between writing every word out of Vivian’s mouth as quickly as she could, and watching Alisha respond to what sounded like a very strange prose poem. The done-up, put-together professional woman of a moment ago was gone. Alisha’s breathing had slowed, and she was beginning to relax her body into the couch, her head tilting back and exposing her neck. She looked almost like she was taking a nap, her face perfectly calm.

“Even when the rainwater finds its way into the plumping system beneath the city, it doesn’t stop there. It flows and flows relentlessly, through pipes and streams and rivers until it runs all the way to the ocean. And even when it reaches the open, it pushes itself deeper and deeper, all the way to the ocean floor.”

Alisha’s breathing was almost labored now, it was so slow. Lily jotted as many descriptions of Alisha as she could think of—comatose, unconscious—but none of the words quite fit the look of calm she had.

“Tell me, Alisha,” Vivian spoke softly, “Have you followed the trail of the rainwater all the way to the ocean floor?”

“Yes,” Alisha spoke once, her voice monotone.

“And what have you found there? What do you find every time I take you there?”

“Perfect stillness,” Alisha responded, with a sigh that seemed to move her whole body. When the sigh was complete, it looked like her body was even more encased by the couch supporting her.

“Tell me what Perfect Stillness is for, Alisha,” Vivian encouraged, gently. Her demeanour of cool detachment was gone. Here, working with Alisha, she had taken on a kind of warmth. She could even be described as... caring.

“Perfect Stillness is for learning,” she responded. “I need to learn my lessons perfectly and Perfect Stillness helps me to learn them.”

“You’ve remembered your mantras so well,” Vivian applauded, sounding almost proud, to Lily’s surprise. “Run imperative one, Alisha,” Vivian said.

“Yes, Vivian,” Alisha spoke, in that same, vacant voice. “I am a deeply sensual woman—I have been all my life, but society has taught me to be ashamed of sensuality. Sensuality is not shameful. Sensuality makes me powerful...” She continued on, repeating herself, new phrases popping up occasionally as she repeated her phrases over and over.

Vivian leaned close to Lily, speaking lowly in her ear. “I could leave her like this for the full 60 minutes and she’d never come out of it until I told her.”

Lily stared at her. “Really?”

Vivian nodded. “We’ve had many sessions together now; the beliefs she told me she wanted to adopt are engraved in her mind. In fact, I give her homework to run the imperative of her choice at least once every few days at home with a timer, and she always does.”

“Do you use this method with all your clients?” Lily asked, a touch incredulous. “Do you just implant hypnotic imperatives and make them do all your work for you?”

Vivian looked Lily straight in the eyes, and the look shook her. Her eyes were inscrutable, and though she had interpreted their green brightness as friendly and comforting at first, it struck her as slightly unnerving now. “All hypnosis is self-hypnosis, Lily. I’m but a facilitator of repressed inhibitions. You can never convince someone to do something they don’t want to do. Alisha deeply wants to become a sensual, sexually uninhibited woman. I’m simply guiding her through her own process. If you want to write about hypnosis, that’s the first thing you need to get straight. Do you understand?”

Suddenly Lily felt embarrassed, like a small child caught in a mistake. For a fleeting second, she craved Vivian’s absolution; anything for that stare boring into her to stop. “Yes, I understand, Vivian.”

But Vivian had already looked back to Alisha. “Thank you for remembering your first imperative so carefully, dear. You are an incredibly sensual woman, and this sensuality is where you draw your power from. The world is clinical and cold—but all action is inherently sensual. Every move you make is an assertion of your will on your environment; an inherently dominant, sensual act. You can feel the frisson of sensual appreciation in all your actions, now, can’t you?”

Alisha made a sub-vocal noise that might have been a ‘mm-hmm.’

“Even sitting on this couch, the cushions caressing your skin, your clothes caressing your skin, your blood flowing in your veins—all of this is inherently sensual, isn’t it?”

The same sub-vocal, half-moaning sound repeated.

Lily felt like she had a laser-focus on everything she was seeing before her. She wasn’t sure she’d ever paid such close attention to anything in her life; everything seemed so important, she didn’t want to miss a second, her pen flying across her pad of paper, trying to catch it all.

“You only have to remember that everything is inherently sensual, that you are inherently sensual, and that connects you to your sexual power, doesn’t it?”

Alisha repeated the sound again.

“And how does that make you feel? Alisha...?”

There was no answer this time, but Alisha’s mouth had fallen open, and a bead of drool was leaking down from the corner of her mouth to her jawline, her breathing hitching in her chest for second. Ridiculously, the string of text that had opened the session popped into Lily’s mind, and for a second the bead of drool running along Alicia’s jaw was a raindrop, rushing unrelentingly to the ocean floor.

Lily shook her head, bringing herself back to attention.

Alisha’s chest dipped in a breath again, but it was oddly halting still, her body tensed instead of perfectly relaxed as before. Then her chest fell completely, and a low, drawn out moan came out of her mouth. A moan that could only be described as orgasmic. The sound of it made Lily blush. Her blush was nothing compared to the red flush spreading over Alisha’s skin, though—she looked flushed with life, for a second so electrified she might have been a painting of a fertility goddess.

Then with a sigh, she collapsed back into the couch again, total relaxation taking hold of her muscles once more.

“Explain to me what just happened, Alisha,” Vivian said, in that same kind, non-judgemental tone.

“I was overwhelmed by the sensuality surrounding me—every sensation I noticed only made the feeling of sensual power stronger, until I had to release it in an orgasm.”

“Very good,” Vivian said. “Run imperative two for me now, Alisha.”

I I I

It was the shortest and longest hour of Lily’s life. By the end of it she felt more than a little confused herself. Vivian had given few commands—most of the session had been Alisha ‘running imperatives’ at Vivian’s instruction, most of which ended in Alisha orgasming from no genital stimulation at all. And not weak orgasms, either; the kind of orgasms Lily herself had long since written off as myth, full-body, deep, powerful. She had felt unbearably awkward sitting there witnessing this; It bordered on pornographic. She didn’t know how she could describe such wanton material tastefully in her article, but knew she had to find a way.

Alisha had been kind enough to sit with her after the session and answer some questions. Yes, she knew all her imperatives consciously and had consented to them. She had worked with Vivian to create them, and was pleased with the effect they were having on her life. She told Lily a string of success stories then; how she’d become more confident, gotten a raise, gotten a promotion, how her sex life had become intensely fulfilling, how she’d won new friends, how she was living the life of her dreams.

Lily diligently recorded all of this and thanked Alisha for her time, but the feeling she had that there was a scandal she was missing didn’t leave her. Why was it so impossible to get new information on Vivian, even when speaking to her inner circle, to her very clients? Alisha had regurgitated everything Lily had read a thousand times before: graceful woman, blah blah. Consummate professional, blah blah. Thoughtful and ethical, blah blah. Always looking out for the good of her clients, blah blah. It was uncanny that such a wide range of people would speak along the very same lines about her, and never divert from the narrative.

To her relief the sessions she sat in on over the course of the following two weeks were not sexual at all; the common theme seemed to be empowerment and self-improvement, but Ms. Stone seemed to have many different variations on this theme, most of which invoked other powerful positive emotions besides sexual arousal.

The common thread was her strange, circular way of speaking. She used elaborate metaphors that hit similar notes: unrelenting forces that could not be stopped or resisted; rain, fire, avalanche, and a whole variety of metaphors that didn’t use weather related phenomena at all. Lily listened to, and recorded, strange story after strange story.

And often, clients would fall into repeating a section of the story over and over again, and Vivian would turn to Lily, and offer some further insight or rule of hypnosis, while the client looped their ‘imperatives’ in the background.

Every client generously offered interviews to Lily following their sessions—she heard amillion variations on Alisha’s first success story; job competitions won, marriages saved, difficult relationships salvaged. Vivian’s stellar (if mysterious) reputation seemed earned.

And Vivian herself, despite her aloofness, went on taking Lily with her everywhere, and answered endless questions, and Vivian’s acquaintances, colleagues, friends all weathered Lily’s questions with the same grace and patience.

And by the end of three weeks, Lily was more frustrated than ever. She had the slice-of-life, but where was the twist? Where was the bombshell? ‘Skilled hypnosis facilitator offers stellar service to happy clients’ wasn’t going to shatter expectations and send Lily rocketing to popularity and notoriety.

She started playing dirty—snooping around the house (which Vivian had graciously given her free run of) for hints, sneaking into private areas.

Something had to turn up, eventually.

I V

As the month drew to a close, one night, she had a stroke of luck. Lily had been sitting in her room, on her bed, going over her notes, and that was when she heard it—a wanton, sexual moaning coming through the air return behind her bed. She froze, and listened carefully.

It was clearly not Vivian’s voice. It was obviously a woman’s tone, but it didn’t sound like any of the clients Lily had met so far. And when the moan gave way to words, Lily knew she’d hit the jackpot. She grabbed her pad of paper, and recorded like her life depended on it.

“Oh, Mistress,” the woman moaned, her voice breaking and hitching as if something was rocking her body with considerable force. “I surrender my will and obey completely—it’s impossible to resist your control.”

An impulse struck her, and she hit record quickly on her phone.

She was glad, because a moment later, Vivian spoke, her voice husky with sex and power in a way Lily told herself was not making her shiver.

“Come for me, slave. The more pleasure you feel, the deeper you fall into my power, my absolute control.”

There was a shriek of pleasure, a knocking sound (headboard against a wall?), and then a sigh of contentment.

“I am Mistress’ slave,” the first voice spoke, after a minute, now dripping with satisfaction, even pride. “That’s all I will ever be. That’s all I want to be. The person I was before Mistress consumed my mind no longer exists. I have become her toy, her plaything, with no will of my own. I am a slave, and that makes me so happy!”

Over the next few minutes, the occasional moan could be heard, but the show largely seemed to be over. Eventually, everything returned to silence.

But that was alright by Lily. She’d found her angle: Hypnosis facilitator secretly recruits sex slaves! What were the implications for her paying clients? Was she slipping unwanted programming in that they weren’t aware of? Could she lose her license for using hypnosis to seduce and sleep with women? Could a hypnotized woman even consent? The story was juicier then Lily could have hoped for, and practically wrote itself. All she needed to do was sit tight and get a little more evidence.

V

Vivian graciously agreed to let Lily stay for another month to get more material for her piece. Lily was getting more than Vivian was aware of. By day, the sessions and public outings unfolded largely as they had in the first week of her stay. But by night, she heard Vivian explicitly using her hypnosis skills to seduce women into having sex. Sometimes she was clearly sleeping with some she’d hypnotized before, but other times it sounded like a first encounter, where the woman wasn’t intending to have sex at all.

Lily recorded it all, shocked at Vivian’s brazenness. There was no question this was scandalous, unethical. She hypnotized these women under false pretences, lured them into a state of trance—a word she’d picked up because of Vivian’s frequent use of it in her private life—and then took advantage of them. It was disturbing to hear this play out night by night, induction by induction, especially as from night to night the progress of Vivian’s control was undeniable. These women started out as normal human beings—and as Vivian’s repeated hypnotic inductions proceeded, they became faceless, undistinguishable sex-slaves.

Lily dared to ask Vivian once if she ever used hypnosis for pleasure, if she ever “role-played” in the bedroom, if she found hypnotic power arousing when used against others.

Her answer was as carefully scripted as everything else about her, and nowhere near the truth, but it didn’t matter. Lily had given Ms. Stone her chance to go on the record, and she had more than enough material to write the expose of her career. As the second month drew to a close, her nights were spent tuning out the sexual show coming to her through the air return, and all her focus went on crafting her piece carefully, and putting the finishing touches on her piece. The only regret she had was that she couldn’t name any of the girls Vivian was sleeping with. They left to discreetly, if they left at all. But if they lived in Vivian’s house, they were too well-hidden; none of Lily’s frequent wanderings of the town-house revealed them.

She was happy with the material she had, anyway. It was more than enough to destroy Ms. Stone’s career.

V I

The night before she was due to leave, Lily was shocked to find Vivian sitting at the desk in her room, reading her piece with a red pen in her hand.

“Vivian—what are you doing here?” She stuttered. She hadn’t been prepared to face Vivian; she was only in her pyjamas.

Vivian looked up to her, with a small smile.

“Just taking a look at your story, dear. I know we never hammered out the details of editorial control, but I hope you don’t mind. I must say, yours is one of the best ones I’ve ever read. I’ve barely had to make any corrections at all. I’ve only crossed out this one line—you wrote, ‘seduces unsuspecting women into unwitting sexual slavery,’ but I think my substitution has a little more punch. “enslave unwitting woman into perpetual, orgasmic, sexual surrender.” Other than that, I have no notes. You really are a fantastic writer, and an impressive journalist. You’re obviously going places.”

“So... you’re going to let me publish the piece?” Lily asked, in confusion.

“If you still want to,” Vivian said, with her mysterious smile. “I’m afraid the next twenty minutes is usually when they all lose interest in publishing this story. If you still want to publish the story twenty minutes from now, you have my complete blessing.”

“’They?’” Lily repeated.

“The other journalists, Lily,” Vivian said, with a soft laugh. “The ones just like you, who wanted to get to the bottom of the mystery of my private life. I cautioned you, remember? You aren’t the first. They asked all the same questions as you, sat in on all the same sessions as you, were shocked by the, um, exploits of my personal life they so accidentally heard through the air return, just as you were. They each put it all together into one final story—and then decided they weren’t interested in publishing it.”

A chill had taken hold of Lily. She had only felt truly scared a handful of times in her life, and this was one of them.

“You... set me up? It was a trap? Everything I saw, and heard—you arranged it for me?”

Vivian smiled. “The only true power comes from knowledge, and ownership. I own my narrative. Nobody writes, or speaks a word about me that I don’t want them to. And I own every single person in my life, Lily. Everyone you met, and spoke to. No one thinks a thought about me that I don’t want them too. And, as you could imagine, given the caliber of my clientele, this makes me quite powerful. I’m in a position of considerable... influence, you might say.”

“But—you’ve got politicians on your roster!” Lily stammered. “Are you... influencing... legislation? Government?”

Vivian just looked back at her. “Nothing so tawdry as that, dear. My enjoyment comes from knowing I could—I could pull the strings, create a new narrative, and make everyone I know, everyone I own, fall in line and swallow it whole. THAT is true power. But I rarely exercise it. I know how good I am. Why show off?”

“And you’re telling me all this?” Lily asked, dumbly. “Aren’t you afraid that I’m going to expose you?”

“Not in the slightest,” Vivian said, magnanimous. “I warned you that you would lose interest in publishing this, didn’t I? A shame, really, as it is the best take on the given material I’ve ever read. But that’s alright. I take good care of my possessions, Lily, and I’m sure I can line up a position with a respectable paper for you, instead of this freelancing business. You belong to me now; that makes you part of the narrative, with a role to play. I’m sure you’ll write other articles that are just as good as this one, or better.”

“I’m not your possession,” Lily protested. “I’m going to publish this, and you can’t stop me.”

Vivian stood, slowly, and Lily shivered at the cool control her demeanor exuded. She was getting much too close to Lily, now, and Lily sat on the bed quickly, with no other escapes available to her.

“You are, darling,” Vivian said, her voice that soft, gentle encouragement Lily had heard so many times in her appointments.

“You can’t make anyone do anything they don’t want to do,” Lily repeated, desperately. “I don’t want to throw my story away! You can’t make me. That’s the first rule of hypnosis, you told me that was the first rule of hypnosis—”

“Yes,” Vivian said, her voice taking on a husky quality now. She leaned close, her lips brushing the side of Lily’s cheek as she spoke. “You can’t make anyone do anything they don’t want to do. But you can make anyone desire what you want them to desire.”

Lily swallowed. “No. You can’t.”

“Mmhmm. Yes, you can.” Vivian’s lips touched Lily’s face more forcefully now, pressing a kiss into her skin.

She could feel the weight of the endless inductions through the air return, could see Alisha orgasming from just a thought in her mind’s eye, and the arousal that had been building beneath the surface all along was rising in her.

“You belong to me,” Vivian murmured. “You want to belong to me. You’re so wet now—you’ve been wet for months.”

Her hand was wandering, reaching Lily’s hungry, sopping pussy. “You know what good care I take of my things. All you have to do is obey—just obey, and give in, and you become another success story, another life I turned around for the better. Just...give in to me,” Vivian breathed.

Lily’s head was spinning. The arousal was too much; there was too much of it clouding her brain, too many inductions stacked on top of inductions.

Vivian’s fingertips grazed her clit, and she saw the light. She felt all the tension release itself, without Vivian’s command, release itself of its own accord, just as Alisha’s had that day, her body gripped and racked by the strongest orgasm of her life.

She drew in a labored breath, her mind entirely blank, except for one word, half-sigh, half-moan: ‘Yes...’

V I I

The story that ran two weeks later was titled, ‘Hypnosis Facilitator Helps Happy Clients Live Successful Lives,” and as Vivian Stone skimmed the article in the paper, she looked to the girl laying sprawled bonelessly on her bed with a smile.

“I told you you would lose interest in publishing the first story, didn’t I?”

The girl answered only with a sub-vocal sound, caught between a sigh and a moan.