The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Where am I?

His eyes remained closed.

I can’t move!

He couldn’t. Couldn’t move his arms, his legs, or his neck—couldn’t even open his eyes. His fuzzy brain was just beginning to register the extent of his immobilization.

I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe!

His lungs, which up to then had been functioning fine, froze up in his sudden panic. He tried to writhe about and pain wracked his unmoving body. The excruciating agony of fighting his paralyzed muscles competed with the growing fire in his lungs.

The panic-induced increase in blood pressure, lack of oxygen from lungs that no longer functioned, and the fuzziness that had fogged his brain since the moment self-awareness returned, all combined to put a quick end to his agony.

As consciousness left him like a fist strike, his lungs released and the breath of life came again to his now relaxed and unaware body.

An indeterminate time later, awareness again crept its way into his brain. As he remembered his last awakening, the panic sought to return. Once more, trying to open his eyes or lift his head, he found himself unable to do so.

Oh shit. Oh shit.

He fought against the panic this time, seeking a calmer state. He let go the fear and simply accepted his condition and his fate, whatever it might turn out to be. Instead, he simply lay still for a time—just letting go, letting the sudden adrenalin spike seep out of his blood stream. As an inner calm filled him, he gently tested his muscles.

I can’t move my arms. But I AM still breathing.

He relaxed a while longer, just feeling his body, trying to determine his situation. He was not in any pain that he could find. He was lying down, on a bed it felt like. Strangely, he couldn’t remember how he’d got here. If this was his bed, he should be able to remember reading a book and drifting off to sleep as he did nearly every evening. Instead he could only conjure fuzzy memories of being at work and then... something else... He wasn’t sure exactly what he was forgetting.

He carefully began testing his muscle control. He strained to move his right arm and found himself unable to do so. Rather than panicking as he had before, he simply accepted this. He strained to move his neck.

Yes!, he thought as his head flopped to one side. The pain from forcing his neck muscles was bad but he ignored it and forced his head to flop the other way. Flip. Flop. Flip. Flop. His control grew stronger with each motion and the pain less intense.

He tested his eyes and found them responding. A blurry whiteness without much form was all his eyes could tell him at first. With their opening, he found the rest of his bodily control returning to him in a flood. His arm now responded to his orders and he started to lift himself up but quickly flopped back down as he was rewarded for his effort by a rush of intense headache.

He closed his eyes again waited for the headache to subside.

“I’m glad you’re awake, Richard,” a soft voice whispered.

“Wha...?” was the best he could manage.

Sarah?, he thought.

Nearly a year before his strange paralysis, Rick was sitting at a dinner table in a moderately-nice restaurant across from his girlfriend of two years, Sarah.

His food was barely touched, his stomach had been upset since she’d suggested dinner earlier that afternoon and informed him she’d meet him there, rather than letting Rick pick her up as was their custom.

Their relationship had been pretty one-sided from the first date. She was a beauty and he was... not. Why she was with him Rick never really understood; but he did everything he could to make her want to stay: giving in to her every wish, surprising with flowers and gifts. She’d taken it all as her just due, though graciously enough. She was not an ogre; in fact she was a fairly sweet-natured young woman. But there had never been any doubt about who held the power in their relationship.

Nor had she ever given Rick any sign that he was anything more to her than a fun date, an enjoyable pleasure in bed, and a source of emotional support after her divorce. She never even referred to herself as his girlfriend, nor did she claim Rick as her boyfriend—though she didn’t actually object when he would use those terms.

Rick knew all this. His was no starry-eyed boy in his first puppy-love: his feet were firmly on the ground. And, while he dreamed of making a life, even a family, with Sarah, he never broached the subject. He knew she didn’t share his feelings.

After an uncomfortable period of small-talk, Sarah finally said the words Rick feared.

“Rick,” she said, “I think it’s time you and I stopped seeing one another.”

His guts twisted but his face gave away no sign.

“I see,” was all he said.

“I really like you, Rick, you’re a great guy—and you’re going to make some girl very happy one day. But I’ve met someone else and I think I’m falling in love.”

On hearing that Rick couldn’t keep the hurt off his face nor a slight tremor from his voice as he said, “You’ve been cheating on me??”

A guilty look flashed across her face and she glanced down and to her left, “No, no!” she said. “He’s just someone I met a few weeks ago and, okay, yes, we’ve had a couple of dates but I haven’t slept with him.”

For a moment relief passed through him. Then he saw she was having trouble meeting his eye.

She’s lying.

His mask dropped back into place as visions of some other guy boning his girl flashed through his mind.

But all he said was, “That’s good.”

She smiled faintly and they both picked at the food on their plates awhile.

Finally Rick asked, “So, anyone I know?”

“No,” she said, “I don’t think so. He’s from my scuba class.”

Sarah was always learning some new sport or taking a community college class on ancient history or a dead language, or joining some hobbyist group. She loved learning and that was one of the things Rick loved about her. Rick had few passions himself, other than her. He joined her in a couple of her activities but never anything physical. Sports, for him, were nothing but opportunities to embarrass himself.

“Huh,” grunted Rick, non-committally.

“Actually, he’s a biology teacher at the college. He taught the International Environments class I took last year. We didn’t date or anything back then but when we met again in the scuba class, well...”

Her voice trailed off, a dreamy look in her eye as she thought about her new flame. She was far away as Rick stared at her—memorizing her face, and that lost in love look that he’d long to bring to Sarah himself.

“Well,” he finally said, “I hope you’ll be happy with him and I wish you the best, Sarah, I truly do.”

She shook herself out of her reverie and said, “Oh, Rick, I know you do. You’re the best. After my divorce you were just what I needed. I knew you’d be understanding. We had fun but we both knew this wouldn’t last—we’re more like good friends than lovers or anything.”

The words were not unexpected but they stabbed in his gut just the same. His hopeless dreams shattering around him, the best woman he could ever hope to find moving firmly out of his grasp, and all he could do was smile and say, “Of course.”

“Just relax,” the woman whispered, “The drug should be wearing off now but you shouldn’t try to move much.”

Drug? What the hell? And that voice, that wasn’t...

“You... You’re not Sarah,” he managed to get out.

“My name is Jennifer,” the voice said, “You’re in good hands, Richard, don’t worry.”

His half-open eyes finally began to sharpen a little and he could make out a person sitting on a chair next to the bed. Dark hair and trim figure were the only details he could make out as he fought his eye-lids trying to close again.

He wanted to ask her questions but the pull of sleep was too strong. He faded off once more into unconsciousness.

A cool wash-cloth brought Rick out of his dreams. His eyes opened slowly, but without a fight this time. He looked up at the pretty young brunette tending to him.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“I’m Jennifer,” she reminded him, “You’ve had a rough time so don’t try to get up just yet.”

He grimaced as he realized his mouth was very dry.

“What happened? Where am I?”

“I’ve been watching over you,” she said, “you’re in our home.”

“How did I get here?”

“My sisters and I brought you here.”

“Sisters?”

“Yes, Richard—Irene and Mindy. You’ll meet them later if you wish.”

She stopped wiping his forehead with the cloth and leaned back. Even in his confused state, Rick recognized that she was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. She looked around twenty-five years old and almost had to be a model or an actress.

“You must be thirsty,” she said, and he nodded.

She smiled, “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Jennifer was tall as well, he saw, and dressed in a conservative, black business dress. She closed the door behind her as she left.

He took stock of his surroundings. The room was large and airy, with picture windows dominating two walls. Light, gauzy curtains weren’t shear enough to see through but suffused the room in the yellow-red light from a setting sun. His sickbed was king size—with a thick, yet surprisingly light, white comforter atop light-blue satin sheets.

Why am I here?

He forced himself to think back. He remembered his earlier awakening and inability to move—he’d been certain he was going to die when his panic overwhelmed his lungs.

He thought back further and remembered... something. There was a street. He’d been walking to lunch. And something had happened. A girl—a woman. In an alley—she called out to him. He turned and... Had he gone down the alley? His head was starting to hurt again, he couldn’t remember what had happened then.

Jennifer returned with a glass of water for him.

“Drink up,” she said, “you need it.”

He had no trouble obeying—his dry mouth was grateful for the liquid. Odd taste to the water though...

“You’re looking much better,” Jennifer said.

“What happened—I remember an alley, and a girl...”

“You were attacked,” she said.

“Attacked? How? By who?”

Something like pain flickered across Jennifer’s perfect features. “Someone came up behind you and stuck a needle into you.”

“Wh... Why would some...someone...,” Rick was having trouble concentrating on the conversation. What she was saying was crazy—Rick had no enemies; everyone liked him. And it was scaring him.

And something was wrong. He’d been feeling strong up until just now.

“Relax,” Jennifer said, “you still need a bit more sleep. Just relax.”

Her voice was soothing and Rick let himself do as she instructed. He slipped back into a drugged sleep and stayed that way through the night.

Rick’s dream that morning was vivid. His cock was engulfed in a woman’s mouth and he was receiving the best blow-job of his life. At times the dream mouth belonged to Sarah, at times it was a nameless woman. At some point the dream shifted and he felt himself engulfed not by a mouth but by the vulva of the woman as she rode him—gently at first. Then Sarah began bucking on him faster and faster and, as she did, little moans escaped her lips. Something in his brain knew this wasn’t correct—the real Sarah was always silent in their lovemaking—so then it wasn’t Sarah on him but the nameless woman again.

Her moans turned to cries as her pace increased and slowly the noise brought him out of his sleep. As he came to consciousness the dream merged with reality: in the pre-dawn light, a soft young woman was atop him, her head thrown back, her hair flying in a cascade around her, and, together, they were approaching release.

Her hips continued bucking furiously against him, and his own responded automatically. Her head came down and her eyes opened wide to stare into his. Jennifer’s mouth was gasping in air as she sought her release on him. His shock did nothing to reduce the fire in his sex and his yell of, “Jennifer?!” was half a cry of bewildered recognition and half a shout of intense joy as his semen exploded unrestrained into her wet sex.

Her own release seemed to be triggered by his and she screamed, “Sire!”—her whole body shaking along with powerful spasms in her vagina before collapsing atop him, her chest heaving along with his from their exertions.

Not knowing what to make of this, nor what he should do now, Rick put his arms around the woman he’d just seeded and loosely held her to him, a dazed expression on his sweat-drenched face.

So they lay, unmoving except for their slowing breath, for minutes. Finally she rolled off him, a bittersweet pleasure shooting through him as he finally slipped from her sex.

She lay on her side against him, her head propped up on her elbow, and searched his face.

He said nothing, a mask on his face as he waited for her to say more about the strange event that just happened, or the, he felt sure—even stranger ones—that led up to it. Inside, his mind was a tumultuous mix of awe and what she had just given him, apprehension at the things she had cryptically shared with him earlier, and a growing fear that there was something not right about Jennifer—and that he could very well be in danger here.

Eventually she smiled and said, “Thank you, Richard.”

“Um, you’re welcome?”

It seemed to him that she was looking at him with adoration and his dick twitched with the thought.

Then it settled in that a perfect stranger had just fucked him while he slept and appeared to regard him with something akin to worship. This began to disturb him, just a little.

“ Jennifer?” he said.

“Yes, Richard?” she replied.

“I really think it’s time you told me what’s going on here. And I mean everything.”

Sadness darkened her face but she sighed and said, “I suppose I can’t put you off any longer.”