The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The heating vent shut off abruptly, startling Cassandra from her peaceful daydream. She blinked lazily, head in her hand, the dull white paper in front of her rematerializing from its blurry form. The analogue clock on the wall ticked on; twenty minutes had gone by. Had she been just daydreaming, or had she been napping? She cleared her throat and sat up, brushing her wavy, fair bangs out of her face, vexed at her lapse in attention. Mid-afternoons during finals week in December were the worst for staying focused and awake. The office was all too warm and the sun was already setting outside, signalling the imminent fall of night at an hour all too early.

Last night was particularly rough, as Cassandra had stayed up the entire night grading final exams. She’d gotten maybe seven hours of sleep in the past three days. Damn those departmental budget cuts, stripping her of the teaching assistants she so sorely needed to grade hundreds of exams before grades were due. Normally, coffee helped somewhat, but today her exhaustion felt particularly grueling. A well-meaning older student of hers, Roger, had brought her a cup before the first exam period—had he gotten her decaf by mistake? It was seeming more and more like he had by the minute.

Roger was nice enough, Cassandra thought. She was one of the youngest tenured professors at the university, and sometimes felt a power struggle with students a good deal older than she. But Roger was only kind and attentive in class, eager to learn, and respectful, to boot. They’d built a good rapport and had some great talks, developing something of a chemistry. And it didn’t help that he was rather easy on the eyes, if she did say so herself. Just her type, he was. Tall, dark features, olive skin. A nice, trimmed beard that suited him. Warm brown eyes, a smile that always made her breath hitch...

Unfortunately, Cassandra felt she could never entertain such thoughts. The university didn’t forbid student-faculty fraternization, so long as the student was of age and no longer directly involved with the professor through research or coursework. But she’d seen those things pan out firsthand, and they almost never ended well for either party. Better to maintain a more kosher relationship than trod upon a minefield.

Cassandra’s round, navy blue eyes flicked back at the paper again, one from many in her slowly-shrinking pile, the words on it reading more clearly now. She realized that she was doing that irritating thing she always did when she was too out-of-it to read; that is, glazing over the same sentence without retaining anything for what seemed like an eternity.

Rubbing her eyes, Cassandra sighed. Despite her relatively comfortable chair, she was realizing how sore her body was from sitting in the same position for so long. It was the last day of the semester, and she was determined to finish grading and inputting finals before leaving for the night. But she was no use to anyone like this, and was doing both herself and her students a disservice. At this rate, it seemed as though she’d have to bring the exams home.

Cassandra glanced up at the clock again: 3:43. Speaking of home, she would’ve left hours ago if she could’ve, if not for having to stay until 4 PM as per her office hours. She yawned, stretching her arms over her head.

At that moment, a knock sounded at the half-open door.

“Hey, Doctor Major. Is now a good time?” a man’s voice called out, quiet but resonant and deep.

“Oh, hello!” Cassandra said, composing herself. Roger stood at her doorway, leaning partway into the room. “Come in, Roger, take a seat. What’s up?”

Roger settled into one of the chairs across from Cassandra, eyeing her discreetly. He gestured towards the stack of papers on her desk.

“How goes the grading, Prof?”

“Oh, it’s alright,” Cassandra said, sighing. “Long, arduous. Not done. The usual. What can I do for you?”

“Uh, just had a question about the test. Have you graded mine yet?” Roger asked, glancing at the pile.

“I don’t believe I have,” Cassandra answered, flipping through papers. “Though, I’m not sure I remember. It’s been a long day.” She chuckled a bit, and Roger gave a sheepish grin.

“Boy, I can imagine,” he said. “Finals are no fun for anyone. Hey, uh, hope that coffee helped somewhat.”

“Oh, thank you very much again for that, by the way,” Cassandra said, glancing up at Roger with the slightest hint of suspicion. “But...are you sure it was caffeinated? I certainly didn’t feel much in the way of energy after having it.”

“You didn’t?” Roger asked, surprised. Or so he seemed. “Gee, sorry about that, I swore I asked ’em for regular. Hope it wasn’t too troublesome.” Cassandra yawned.

“Well, only a little. I was hoping for something to pick me up a bit so that I could finish grading by tonight, but...I suppose it’s fine. I’m managing.” She looked over at the papers, frowning a bit.

“God, I can imagine. It’s real warm and stuffy in here, isn’t it? And still here when most of the other staff and students have left for the day.” Roger looked around the dull office, illuminated by harsh fluorescent lights. “These lights must make your eyes sore like hell, huh?”

“Tell me about it,” Cassandra huffed. She looked over at Roger, sitting innocently across from her. She knew she had little reason to distrust him, but found herself tense and on guard around him in a one-on-one situation like this, even moreso than when she was normally alone with a student. Was she tense because she distrusted him, or was the tension of another nature? Her mind began to wander.

“That clock must make it so hard to focus. I don’t think I could focus on anything with that thing ticking, and—”

Cassandra cleared her throat, well aware of how difficult it was for her to focus at the moment. “You were saying, Roger?”

“Of course. I was wondering what the answer might’ve been for that third longform question. I was fairly sure that I answered it correctly, but I’d like some reassurance. The suspense is killing me,” he said with a grin.

“If you insist.” Cassandra turned in her chair and began sifting through the stack, stifling a yawn. The heater kicked on again, blowing gusts of warm air into the small office.

“Heater on, huh? It got pretty cold out today. They say it might snow tonight.”

“So I heard,” Cassandra said, still searching through exams. “That thing is so noisy.”

“Yeah, but it’s sort of a white noise, right? Can’t be too bad.”

“Almost worse in some ways.”

Roger raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Well,” Cassandra paused. “It can be...distracting. Doesn’t help me not lose track of time.”

“Oh, sure. Gentle heat, white noise, comfortable chair...there is such a thing as too cozy an environment, right?” Roger said, chuckling quietly. Cassandra nodded, just then realizing she’d already looked through the stack of names twice without really thinking. Her eyes had unfocused again, suddenly snapping into clarity. Roger had said a few more things, but Cassandra hadn’t been listening. His voice seemed to take on a type of gentle, monotone quality that made it easy to tune out, and she had to focus on reading all those names. Multitasking while alert was already not in her wheelhouse, let alone while exhausted.

Cassandra finally produced Roger’s paper and blinked a few times, working to focus on his words. She felt a strange tug in her gut, as though she was losing control of the situation. Immediately, she stood up to give Roger a cue to leave.

“Well, Roger, I have your paper and your answer looks okay, but I’d be more than happy to go over your exam with you over email at a later date,” said Cassandra, straightening out her skirt. “You know where to reach me.”

“Dr. M, I’m real anxious about that grade. I know it’s late, but how about we sit down and look at the test real quick? Five minutes, no more,” Roger asserted, pleading smile in tow.

Cassandra paused, and she lowered herself back into the chair. Realizing what she’d just done, a small feeling of uncertainty rushed through her. She was the professor, why had she just done as she was told by a student? Damned be that megawatt smile and those disarming crow’s feet.

“Not a minute more. I do have a home, you know,” she said pointedly.

“Thank you. I’m not sure how you deal with all that stress,” Roger said, yawning with gusto. Without thinking, Cassandra mirrored the yawn, taking a second to open her eyes again.

“Aw, look at you. You look like you can hardly keep your eyes open.”

“I’m quite alright,” she said, furrowing her brow. She felt a blush creep across her face, discomfited by the callout. “Let’s review that question so we can both leave, hm?” Cassandra retrieved her answer key.

“Great,” Roger said, leaning slightly across the desk to see his paper. “So, question three.”

“The one with the hypothetical. What did you put for it?”

“So I answered it in kind of a roundabout way, but I think I made the points I needed to make. Do you mind reading it, please? I’d like to know your thoughts.”

Cassandra began reading Roger’s writing, a small, neat cursive that took up about half a page. It seemed alright enough at first glance. Roger had made some remarks whilst she was reading, but for the life of her Cassandra couldn’t read and listen at the same time. Something about how warm it was in the room, she caught. Well, obviously. And how annoying that her train of thought had again been interrupted. She started reading again, Roger’s voice continuing to drone on in the background. It was beginning to irk her, but the quicker she got through this, the quicker they could both go home.

“...so warm. In fact, I might take my jacket off in order to cool down. You may find yourself doing the same as you realize how warm and constricted you feel.”

Rather presumptuous, Cassandra thought. But he was right, it was altogether too warm. She felt herself shake her red blazer off, revealing her cream-colored blouse and slender, pale arms. That felt better. Time to focus on reading again.

So she thought, at least. Cassandra felt her body relax more and more, despite her best efforts to sit up straighter. Her back muscles relaxed, shoulders slumping. What originally seemed like good cursive handwriting became more dizzying to her by the second. With each loopy little word that floated past her gaze, Cassandra felt her eyelids weighing more and more heavily. At some point she opened her eyes, not aware of how long they’d been closed.

“...And you’re doing a great job, Professor,” Roger said gently. “You’ve been very helpful.”

Helpful? She was nodding off in front of a student, for Christ’s sake. That was beyond unprofessional. Cassandra then realized her jaw was slackened and closed it, blinking slowly.

“I...have not yet finished reading your answer,” she answered with a gulp, meeting Roger’s firm gaze. “I think it would be best if we continued this another time.”

“But Professor, it’s been ten minutes already. You haven’t finished reading?”

Cassandra felt her face flush again. She felt very taken off-guard by this, and didn’t know how to answer the question herself, let alone to a student. She was a quick mind. How had it taken her so long to get through a simple passage?

“I-I’m almost done,” she muttered, fixing her sight back to the paper. Time to start from the beginning. She’d hoped he hadn’t noticed her nodding off, though he certainly wasn’t helping her cause by droning on in that strange tone of voice. And for some reason she was now struggling to focus on completing even one activity without losing focus. All the blinks in the world couldn’t dissipate the mist in her mind.

“Of course you are, you poor thing,” Roger said quietly, continuing his soft, lilting instruction. She was impossibly adorable like this, her disheveled, pale blonde locks falling over her soft, pretty countenance. Her big eyes were dull and unfocused, a stark contrast from her usually bright and alacritous gaze. Normally she commanded an entire lecture hall’s attention with her presence, and now she seemed so small, so vulnerable.

“And as your eyes fix upon each passing word of mine, you find that they become so tired, so worn out. My words make it so hard to keep those gorgeous eyes of yours open. You’ve read so many words today, haven’t you? It’s becoming so hard to read.”

Cassandra nodded slightly, only distantly aware of why. Something about reading being hard right now, she guessed, and boy was he right. She was absolutely spent.

“Your body, so sore and exhausted, is relaxing bit by bit now, listening to the soothing, comforting sound of my voice, letting your stress melt away. Your unconscious mind absorbs my instruction, your drowsy, conscious mind simply letting it wash over your ears without question as I speak. Your eyelids are so heavy, impossible to keep open now as all your weariness catches up with you, consuming you. I can see them fluttering now, Cassandra. Why not let them gently close, just for a short while? I think a short respite could do you some good.”

Roger could see Cassandra struggle to keep her eyes open, her languid stare fixed on the same few words in front of her. It wasn’t his first go at something like this, but while he was anxious at first that it wouldn’t work on such a sharp woman, he felt his confidence—and something else—grow at this sight. She was definitely putting up a fight, but that was okay. A fight, Roger did not mind. He continued his litany relentlessly.

Cassandra’s eyelids fluttered open again, and she restarted the sentence she was on for the fifth time. She should have just sent Roger away and gone home herself when she had the chance. Starting anew, Cassandra found her way through a few more sentences before she realized her head was nodding. Hopefully Roger hadn’t noticed such a thing, although she was doubtful at this point. He had seemed understanding enough earlier, she thought absentmindedly. The best thing to do, she figured, would be to prop her head up with her hand while reading, so that her head wouldn’t bob so obviously if she dozed off again.

“It would be so nice to simply sink into a warm, relaxed sleep as you find your mind becomes a soft, aimless fog. Thinking is so hard, and you’ve done so much of it today, haven’t you? So much thinking. So you find that it feels so good to simply relax your mind, relinquishing thought for now, just relaxing and sinking deep down, finding it so hard to resist as your thoughts float away one by one. It feels so good to just relax and fall asleep, listening to my words, doesn’t it?”

...When she dozed off again. Cassandra’s eyes flew open, realizing that she’d made it only a few words in before her eyelids betrayed her. Her limbs felt like wet noodles, far too limp and relaxed to hold herself up straight. So much for that.

Cassandra then realized that Roger hadn’t stopped talking the entire time, and she felt far too embarrassed to ask about it since she had barely been listening. It seemed that he was only talking about how tired she must be, which was true. She already knew all about that, nothing new to see there. Between his lilting voice, the hum of the heater, and the ticking of the clock, staying awake felt like a Herculean effort. Rubbing her eyes, Cassandra straightened up, leaning back in her chair.

“Well, your answer was quite good, Roger,” she said, feeling too ashamed to admit that she could not remember a single thing about it. “I would give it full marks.”

“Thanks, that’s great, Professor,” Roger said with a smile. The professor was definitely a fighter, working to undo her own trance. He had to fight dirty. “Do you remember what I wrote in that second paragraph? I forgot.”

“Second paragraph…” Cassandra murmured quietly, trying to remember. Roger started talking again, and she felt her vision instantly unfocus as he did. She looked at the paper once more, intending to skim it, but it was becoming obvious that this was making it all the more difficult to stay conscious. The words on the page swam in front of her, taunting her helpless state along with Roger’s mercilessly soporific tone. Against her slowly-quieting better judgement, she felt herself reclining, sinking into the soft, warm leather of her chair. The tension in her body just seemed to melt away, and it felt so good to just give herself a break for once. She sighed softly, relishing such a feeling after a sleepless week. Perhaps…perhaps Roger wouldn’t mind if she took a short nap. It made a lot of sense, after all...

The next thing she knew, Cassandra awoke with a start as she felt herself snoring, fully splayed back against her chair. She felt terribly faint, as though she’d hit her head. The buttons of her blouse were undone, the door closed and locked.

“Oh, Professor, thank you!” Roger said, slightly worried that she’d woken up. “I wasn’t proud of that part of my answer, but I feel better now, what with your approval.” Approval..? Had she said something approving of Roger’s work? She had outright fallen asleep in front of him, how could that signify approval?

It was then that Cassandra realized that the lights in her office were off and that it was pitch dark outside, the two of them shrouded in the dim, orange light that glowed from the streetlight below her office. She felt her eyelids fluttering closed again in sheer exhaustion, but she worked to keep them open. What the hell was going on?

“Yes, of course. Why exactly are...the lights off in here, Roger?” she asked slowly, only distantly wary of the situation. She shifted in her chair, sitting upright.

“To help you focus better,” Roger said reassuringly, with a parental intonation. “It seemed like all that fluorescent light was hurting your eyes and making it harder to keep them open. I took the liberty of lowering the lights so that you could better focus.”

“Of...of course,” Cassandra said unsuredly, thinking dully in the back of her mind that it felt as though the lack of light was having the opposite intended effect. She blinked heavily a few more times, feeling her body involuntarily relax against the soft leather of the chair and finding herself unable to resist the urge to close her tired eyes. Roger was talking again, but she heard his voice move behind her. She felt hands on her neck and shoulders, as well as a small voice in her head telling her to awaken and put a stop to such a wildly inappropriate thing.

But as Roger’s hands gently worked her stress away, Cassandra felt her body melt, mind blanking. What was she thinking about just now? Telling Roger…something? It felt so unimportant now. She should probably not just lay slackened on her chair while a student touched her in such a way, but it felt too good to let each thought float away as it came. Cassandra felt Roger lift her lithe body with ease from the chair to sit upon the desk facing him, holding her. She sighed contentedly and laid her head on his shoulder without thinking, sinking deeper and deeper into thoughtless bliss.

Suddenly, Cassandra’s bra was coming off. Her eyes flew open, mouth closing at the sudden, humiliating realization that she had been in some...bizarre, trancelike state of mind. She absentmindedly wiped the trickle of drool running down her chin and looked at Roger in shock. She was only adorned in her bra and panties now, her clothes off and on one of the chairs.

“R-Roger,” Cassandra started sternly, feeling a small fear well up inside her as she realized her shaky voice betrayed her authority. Her tongue felt thick, her mind fuzzy. “I don’t know what you did, o-or what you’re doing, but I demand that you stop this instant.” She weakly crossed her arms, attempting to keep her unhooked bra on.

“But Cassandra,” Roger started softly, placing his hand behind her delicate neck and running his fingers through her hair. She winced at hearing her first name from him. “You’re so stunning like this. I can’t let you go now, not without showing you what you mean to me.” Cassandra’s unease grew, realizing she was trembling under his touch. Meant to him? She was only his professor, surely he didn’t have any serious interest in her.

“You have to leave. Er...I have to leave. I, we...we can’t be doing this,” Cassandra breathed, her arms falling to her sides without thought. Roger gently continued removing her bra, exposing her round, supple breasts. He leaned in and kissed her neck, grabbing her breasts in his hands.

“Why not?” he murmured in her ear. Cassandra shivered. Roger continued rubbing her back, whispering things in her ear that she couldn’t quite make out. She squinted her eyes to try and listen to what he was saying, but before she knew it they were closing again.

“What are you doing?” Cassandra asked quietly, trying to orient herself.

“I want you. And I am having you,” muttered Roger matter-of-factly, inches away from her face. “Just like I know you want to be had. How can you look at me the way you have and tell me you don’t?”

No, Cassandra thought, realizing she was drifting back into pleasure as Roger massaged her breasts. Focused and awake. Focused and...Focused and...and…

Cassandra felt Roger’s hands move down her curved waist and rounded hips, caressing the sopping mound of her panties which clearly betrayed her protests. Cassandra felt them too slide down her legs and drop to the floor, Roger teasing her velveteen lips with his fingers.

Focused….

Cassandra’s eyes rolled back in her head as her eyelids fluttered, head lolling back. Like helium balloons floating in the wind, her thoughts simply kept drifting away from her. What was she trying to remember? Something important. Something like...like...what was she trying to remember? The harder she tried to recall her thoughts, the more Roger snatched them away from her. Those soft kisses on her neck were making her mind short-circuit, and his finger inside of her was making her see stars, but it would be so rude to tell him to stop. And it was okay, she supposed, Roger could think for her right now. That idea didn’t seem so bad—he seemed to be doing a fine enough job thinking for her right now. In fact, that seemed like a fine idea. Another wave of pleasure shot through her, deepening her hazy trance. Now she acted only on impulse.

Roger seated the nude, limp Cassandra back in her chair. He unzipped his pants and produced his hard cock, inserting it into her already-open mouth.

“Good girl,” Roger whispered, stroking her hair. She licked and sucked his head dutifully, enjoying the positive feedback. Roger inhaled sharply, taken aback by her unconscious skill. When he finally removed himself from her mouth, Cassandra frowned, disappointed that she had stopped, and barely aware that he had lifted her onto the table again. He inserted himself into her with ease, giving Cassandra floods of pleasure with each gentle thrust. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, resting her weary head and moaning softly.

Cassandra finished first, her body tightening and convulsing several times before collapsing against Roger. He carried her back to her chair, noticing that per his instruction (and likely her own exhaustion), she had instantly fallen deeply asleep, her body splayed, snoring softly. Roger finished on Cassandra’s soft, resting body, her form not even slightly aware of such an act. He took a bit to admire her before gently shaking her awake.

“Hm?” Cassandra moaned, opening her bleary eyes. “What time is it? Was I...asleep?” She glanced at the clock on her wall: 4:53. And she was completely naked. A hundred thoughts flooded her mind at once; her eyes widened and her mouth opened to say something, but Roger snapped his fingers and she froze, her mind emptied instantly. Her subconscious eagerly awaited his instruction.

“That’s right,” Roger said, wiping and then tenderly dressing her. He turned on the lights. “When I awaken you from your trance, you will remember our encounter, and you will remember it fondly. And you will remember me fondly. So fondly, in fact, that you will want nothing more than to come home with me.”

Roger gently kissed Cassandra’s forehead before snapping his fingers again. She blinked dazedly, her mind trying to reconcile the last hour.

“Cassandra, dear,” Roger started, taking her hands and guiding her to a standing position. He brought her her shoes, and unhooked her coat from the wall, adorning her with it. “Would you like to join me at my place for dinner tonight?”

Cassandra parted her lips slightly, unsure of what to say. She felt as though someone put her brain in a cocktail mixer and shook it like mad. Going home with a student wasn’t a wise decision, but nobody had fucked her like Roger had, and—wait. She and Roger had...but...how? Cassandra placed her hand on her mouth thoughtfully, her groggy mind recalling the pleasure-soaked details of their escapade—and how he had gotten her to go along with it. He’d made her feel so good, and he’d done a splendid job thinking for her. That’s just what she needed in a stressful time like this, anyways. Someone to make her feel good. Someone to think for her. Cassandra smiled.

“Of course, sir. Lead the way.”

“My pleasure.”