The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Until my life took an abrupt and consequential change a year ago, I had been termed a “frigid woman.” That was neither accurate nor fair. Although I had indulged in sex a couple of times when I was younger, I never cared a great deal about it. I frankly thought it was painful, disappointing and vastly overrated by popular novels, erotic books and films.

When I was sixteen, I let myself be talked, and petted, into sex with a boy. Once I agreed to it, he pushed my skirt up, jerked my underpants off and mounted me, erect and eager. He pushed himself into me, ignoring my cries of pain and shock. Afterwards, he was indignant because I didn’t swoon with gratitude. But I was still curious—knowing it could be better—and I let another boy have me. He was nicer than the first little punk, but it was over almost before it began. And, worse, he couldn’t wait to tell all of his friends that he had “laid” me.

So, each time, it was hasty, awkward and unpleasant. After that, remembering the foolish curiosity that had cost me my virginity, and my reputation, at that tender age, I never let a date, or relationship go as far as physical intimacy. Well, perhaps I shouldn’t say never.

My name is Anne Lynette Collins, and the major change this account relates occurred in my life when I was twenty-six. By way of description, I am of medium height, one-hundred and fifteen pounds—when I watch my diet that is—with a fair complexion, auburn hair and green eyes. I’ve held several jobs from waitress to receptionist, but my long-term occupation is that of an advertising copy writer.

I’m told I am pretty, which is nice to hear, but the evidence of that is more compelling when I see men sometimes turn back to look at me again. I don’t have a large bustline which seems to be what a lot of men look for, nevertheless I believe I have a good figure.

It’s not that I didn’t like men before; I did, but sex, if any, was just too scary and socially exorbitant. My terms before sex were marriage or at least a fully committed relationship and I discovered that not many men were willing to own without a test drive. I’m sure I lost boyfriends because I simply wouldn’t go to bed early into a relationship, but that’s how it was.

At least that’s the way it was before I went to that strange after-hours party and met a still stranger man. His name was Dr Lepesque and he was introduced to me as a hypnotist. But now I realize that he was a great deal more than just a performer.

My girlfriend, Gayle and I had gone to a nightclub together, celebrating her divorce from her abusive husband when we met two nice executive type gentlemen seated at the table next to ours. They struck up a conversation and it asked us to join them. After some ernest conversation in the ladies room, Gayle talked me into accepting their invitation to join them to watch the after hours show in the lounge. The man I was assigned to, so to say, was a thirty-five-year-old computer engineer named Neil. Gayle was with the slightly older man called Harry who was Neil’s supervisor.

Harry knew the performer, Dr Lepesque, and once the main show was over, took us backstage to watch a special demonstration of hypnosis. There were perhaps a dozen people present by invitation. I have to admit that it was fascinating. Dr Lepesque was a physician, versed in hypnotherapy, who had decided that there was more fun and more profit in becoming a show business hypnotist.

I was enjoying the after hours show, keeping Neil’s well manicured hands below my mid-thigh without too much trouble when I found Dr Lepesque’s eyes fastened on me.

“Come on up,” he said, indicating me.

I smiled and shook my head quickly. But then the people sitting near us, my impromptu date, Harry, and Gayle, the turncoat, all began heckling me to go up on the stage, I went along with it. I have often wondered how my life might have gone from that point had I stuck to my feeling and not let myself be pressured into going up on that stage.

But I did, reluctantly, climb the few steps, sit in the straight back chair in the middle of the stage and wait to be hypnotized. I don’t think it really worked because I’m somewhat too intelligent to allow my will to be taken over by another. Of course I was not unconscious any of the time. However, Dr Lepesque was certainly personable, charming and not in the least pushy about it, so rather than be a party pooper, I went along with his act.

He asked me to sing a song, and in a reckless mood, I did. I was surprised that I sounded fairly good because usually I can’t carry a tune at all. When he asked me to pretend that I was Cleopatra, I laughed, but again I went along with it. Actually, I was having a lot of fun with it all.

He quietly whispered to me that I was now the sexiest woman in the world, and that no man was able to resist my charms. He said something about the ‘deep well of passionate experience’ existing within me that made me incredibly attractive. Bologna!

But I decided to really show him I was a good sport about it, and once I had set my mind to it, I actually began to feel very sexy and seductive. I really hammed it up. I batted my eyes, swayed my hips and generally played the role of the seductive Queen of The Nile, bringing the Roman emperor under her spell, much to amusement of the small audience and myself as well. I think I actually got a little turned on in the process. It was fun and I received a round of applause when I had finished my little charade.

But then, just as the show was winding down and Dr Lepesque was about to bring me out of what everyone else thought was a hypnotic spell, there was a commotion in the audience. A man seated toward the back of the small group suddenly stood, grabbed a steak knife from the table and stabbed the man seated next to him. I found out later that the man, the stabber—as I suppose you could call him—was the woman’s husband and that the stabee had been having an affair with the woman. Rashly, the woman had chosen that public place to tell her husband of the affair.

Dr Lepesque was of course a physician, and while others restrained the enraged husband of the woman, he attended to the injured man. Gayle, Harry, Neil and myself all fled the place as quickly as we could, and once outside, decided to go to another place for some much needed drinks and a chance to let the shock dissipate.

After that, Gayle was enthusiastic about Harry’s suggestion that we all repair to his place for coffee. I protested but once again I was outvoted. And it was there and then that I understood that my life had taken a sudden and scary turn.

Gayle is an impulsive girl. She had just managed to rid herself of a dominating man and here she was becoming over friendly with another one of the same ilk. Once we got there, it wasn’t long before she and Harry were on the couch, supposedly watching video tapes of some sports event, and necking like a pair of teenagers. Neil and I were on the love seat across the low coffee table from them, just sitting and watching the tape when I saw Harry’s hand unbutton the front of Gayle’s dress and begin to squirm under the opening to fondle her. She protested but obviously not sincerely. At that point, I realized that she obviously had too much to drink and I prepared to put a quick halt to that amorous exploring when the images on the television screen went from sweaty football players bashing each other to a couple in the act of intercourse.

I’m sure it was a calculated thing. For a moment I was too shocked to move or say anything as the two naked bodies on the screen gasped and thrust at each other to the rhythm of the background sound track. Before I could get to the machine to turn off that disgusting display of raw sex however, Gayle and Harry quit trying to choke each other with their tongues and directed their attention to the porno film.

Gayle gasped and Harry chuckled, making some lame excuse as to why the football game had suddenly become a totally different sort of game. As I stepped over to shut it off, all three of them protested. I looked at Gayle who gave a small shrug as if to say ‘why not?’

I was furious at her, but then as I glanced back to the television for a second, it was as if some tiny switch in my brain clicked on and I was entranced by the two on the screen. I felt dizzy for an instant and then when I recovered a moment later, I found myself bemused, even fascinated by the male actor’s body and his movements as he knelt between the woman’s legs and prepared to take her again.

He was a very attractive man to be sure and I couldn’t help noticing that his penis was exceptionally large and erect. I wanted to turn away but I couldn’t as I watched him stretch out on her and insert himself into her. She helped him, squirming under him in such a way as to bring him closer—and deeper. It suddenly looked good to me and I envied the woman who was receiving that bulky, firm penis into her. Still, I felt that she was amateurish and silly and certainly not woman enough for such a man. Odd, because I was only three or four pokes away from being virgin.

I felt my face grow warm, and more than that, I felt a warmth begin in my belly and gradually spread over my body. I had not felt that way in many years and it was disturbing. I still might have shut the VCR off then but Neil was standing behind me with his arms around me. I raised my hand to push him away, to stop him from kissing me on my neck when all of a sudden, the warmth I was feeling in my stomach, and lower, became a heat. My knees became weak and my breath caught short and as if watching myself do it, I turned in his arms and allowed him to kiss me. And when he tried to push his tongue into my mouth, instead of pulling back, I allowed him to do it.

Encouraged, Neil pulled me closer to him and I felt his erection pressing against me, firm and insistent. I should have pushed him away instantly but instead I pressed myself to him, suddenly welcoming the bulge of his excited manhood against me. It had been so very, very long since I had felt that way.

We stood there, close and kissing, and I completely forgot about what Gayle and Harry were doing. Somehow I just didn’t care that they were in the room or that Neil and I were back on the love seat, necking with his hand working the zipper at the back of my dress.

I was eager and flustered at the same time. I knew he was taking liberties but some part of me wanted him to do just that. That reckless part of me then even encouraged him by leaning. forward so that he could move the zipper down to my behind. My blouse was shoved up and Neil’s hands were on my brassier then, stroking me Some perverse urge inside me suddenly wanted him to go even further. I leaned forward again, and taking it as a hint, he unfastened the clasp of my bra in back.

My chest, like my face, felt so warm and my nipples felt suddenly very sensitive as he stroked me. My belly felt full and aching at the same time and I held his head tightly as he suckled me, going from one tender, swollen nipple to the other.

Dimly, I heard Harry say, “Hey, looks as if these guys want some privacy, Come on Gayle Honey, let’s leave them alone.”

I glanced up to see Harry and Gayle, hand in hand, leave the room, apparently headed for the bedroom.

I was going to comment on it when Neil’s mouth fastened on mine again and I felt his tongue probing again. I was just too confused and flustered to fight him, so I mentally said ‘To heck with it!’ and responded in kind. In a few minutes, he said in a thick, choked voice,

“There’s another bedroom, Anne.”

Like someone in some erotic dream, I let him pull me to my feet and lead me into another room, a bedroom, and sit me down on the edge of a wide bed. Thank God, as befuddled as I was, I had the good sense to ask him to use precautions.

“No problem,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt.

My dress was open and my bra loose already so I just stood by the bed and pulled down the dress and shrugged out of my bra. I felt flushed and dizzy as I took off my shoes, my white, cotton underpants and then my pantyhose . By that time, Neil was down to his shorts and though I tried not to stare, I saw in the light from the hallway that he had an erection. I sat, feeling squirmy in my stomach and somehow warm and loose below there as he went to the bureau, opened it and fetched something out. As he came back to stand in front of me, I saw that he had a condom in his hand.

“Okay, Anne?” he asked.

I nodded. “I’m not on the pill anymore,” I said. Then I perceived the faint sounds of a bed reacting to the weight of rapidly moving bodies and heard Gayle’s soft cries. My belly, and lower, felt heavy and quickened.

He still had on his shorts and, fascinated and with the evidence of his excitation under them, I pulled at the waistband. He took over and quickly pulled them all the way down. I looked away though as I moved back up onto the bed, all at once so very, very impatient to feel him next to me.

He was a gentleman, I have to admit, because he didn’t simply leap on me but rather gathered me in his arms and began kissing me again. His mouth felt warm and his lips soft as we kissed and I didn’t resist as I felt his hand move down my belly. In fact, I helped by moving my legs apart as I felt his hand and his fingers probing me.

I was a slight shock to feel a hand on me there, but as he caressed me, making me so warm and so ready, I placed my hand over his, showing him that I liked what he was doing to me. In a couple of minutes, he sat up.

“I think you’re about ready,” he said in a thick voice.

I nodded and watched as he rolled the condom onto himself. For a brief moment, I was afraid because he looked so large and so ready. But as he kissed my belly, my nipples and then my mouth, I relaxed. I was ready—more than merely ready—as he mounted me and guided himself to me.

I couldn’t help flinching as he entered me but a second later as I felt him filling me, a rolling wave of heat moved upward from where we were joined, blurring my vision and spinning my brain.

All I recall after that was wanting nothing more than to lift up to him, to match his feeling for me, and even to urge him on to more fury. I heard his breath rasping in my ear and felt him lifting and coming down again as he thrust to me. Again the warm waves rolled over me until I grasped his naked buttocks and hooked my heels on his legs, pulling him even closer, and deeper.

I must have gone insane, but God, what a feeling! Each time he pressed down on me, more and more hot surges possessed me until I couldn’t get enough of him inside of me! I was shocked to hear myself verbally urging him on, gasping inarticulate love cries into his ear as he began to slam his body against mine. I saw my own feet behind him, bouncing in the air with the rhythm of his eager thrusts.

I was filled and fulfilled, wanting him ever closer, and then the pleasant, warm waves turned into a thick, coiling heat in my lower belly and I wanted nothing more than to push my newfound feelings to their limit.

But even though it was wonderful to be pierced and filled like that, I couldn’t seem to reach the elusive peak of feeling I knew was so very near. I lifted to meet him, wanting to find that awesome completion. I must have dug my fingernails into his backside because he gasped in pain and finished, just as I was seconds away from grasping that feeling I wanted.

He stopped moving, but I couldn’t. I kept lifting under him, crying and gasping and humping, wanting him to continue. But he was done and it was just as it had been with that second boy so many years ago.

Finally, I lay still, still feeling the hot coil of need burning in my belly and loins. I was short of breath, still feeling the sweat on my breasts and sides as he slowly rolled off of me.

“Whew!” he breathed. “Holy Shit, what a hot woman!”

I felt a quick flush of embarrassment.

He rolled on his side, gazing at me. “I’ve been with some good lays, Anne, but you are something else.”

I gave in to a momentary anger. “Come on then,” I said impatiently. “If it’s so good, let’s do it again, okay?”

He stared at me, slightly annoyed. “Well, hey now, I’d sure like to but . . . I guess you didn’t get off, huh?”

“I don’t know,” I stammered. “I started to, but I didn’t.”

Neil sat up on the bed, pulling the condom off. “I’m sorry about that, but Baby, your fun isn’t my problem. If you can’t get off then you got a problem all your own.”

I was ill with frustration and I felt that he ought to do something—anything—go relieve my tension and ache. But when I suggested that, he snarled at me,

“Go play with yourself or something! Hell, if you’re some kind of nympho or other, then it’s not my problem.”

From there, it was all downhill. He dressed quickly and left the bedroom, pausing and looking back over his shoulder at me from the doorway.

“Hurry up and get dressed. I’ll take you back to the club and you can find some other guy to fuck.”

I was shamed and sick. I dressed, tears of frustration starting, adding to the slowly fading tension in my pelvis. I tapped on the closed door of the other bedroom and called to my girlfriend, saying that I was leaving. Gayle called back, letting me know that she was spending the night and asked if I needed cab fare. I told her no, then I went into the living room, picked up my purse and slammed out of the door. On my way out, I noticed that the porno movie was still playing and, even as angry as I was, I stopped for a moment to look at it. The male actor was under the woman as she rocked and gasped atop him, obviously climaxing.

God, maybe that’s what I need—some movie stud who doesn’t know when to quit!

I waited outside until Neil emerged. He didn’t speak to me as he got into the car, leaving me to open the door for myself. He blasted out of the driveway, whipped the car around and drove quickly to the nightclub we had left earlier. He drove under the awning in from and stopped.

“Okay,” he said tersely, “here you are.”

He didn’t offer to see me out or even reach across to open the door but just sat, scowling straight ahead. I suddenly wanted to apologize for hurting his feelings. I felt that perhaps he was right and that I was too demanding. But the wild, hot feelings that had roused in me had made me crazy.

“I’m sorry, " I began, but he interrupted.

“Forget it! You want some super stud, so go and find one.” He relaxed some but still frowned as he looked at me. “Look, Anne, I’m just a normal guy. I wish I could have satisfied you, but I think you’re just one of those women who can’t get enough. You need to see a psychologist or something, or maybe make it with more than one guy at a time. Okay? Good luck.”

He reached across me and opened the door. I got out and stood on the asphalt, watching the taillights of his car vanish into the traffic. I went to the pay phone and called for a taxi, spending anxious moments as I stood in front of the darkened nightclub, waiting in the shadows. I wondered what I’d do if some rapist found me and assaulted. Perversely, I almost wished that one would. My good sense told me I’d very likely be murdered, but some idiot part of me wanted another man in me, bringing a release from the need that lingered. My underpants felt slick and clammy because I had not had the chance to clean myself up. I felt somehow cheap and used, like some whore that had been pushed aside. I got my anger and shame under control after a bit and tried to figure out what I might be able to do about my sudden sexual insanity, should it happen again. Even as badly as I felt then, I admitted to myself that somehow, in some bizarre way, I had gone from a cool, self-possessed person into an insatiable woman. Then I remembered my little act as the seductive Cleopatra, and the fact that I hadn’t been released from the hypnotic suggestion. I was fully conscious, in control of my own mind—more or less—but in some way that lascivious, wanton attitude was still with me. I decided to get in touch with Dr Lepesque again and have him release me from the post-hypnotic suggestion or whatever it was.

The taxi showed a half hour later and I was limp with relief as I got in and huddled in the corner of the smooth, vinyl back seat. I looked at the driver’s profile as he threaded the cab through the late night traffic, trying to see if he was attractive. I caught myself and turned to stare out of the window at the cars and the darkened buildings speeding past. I shuddered and hugged myself, praying that Neil and Harry would forget my name as soon as possible.

I saw Gayle a couple of days later It turned out that she wasn’t all that thrilled with Harry’s attitude or performance either. She finally confessed that he was mostly pleased about the size of his organ but yet he was finished almost before he began, even though he was able to do it with her again the next morning. So neither one of us saw those gentlemen again.

I don’t know what happened to me that night, but thinking it over as I called the nightclub for Dr Lepesque, I realized that he had tapped some deep and dark well of passion within myself and now it was running out of control. Whatever it was, I wanted rid of it. But that night had been the good doctor’s last performance, and even the police had only his agent’s name and telephone number once he turned the injured man over to the paramedics. I called the agent and left a message, but the woman never responded. Likely my story of a lingering hypnosis roused fears of legal action or even a con game of some kind. I checked with an attorney but he didn’t see any “deep pocket” to go after, so he was less than eager to pursue the matter. I don’t think he really believed my halting tale of sexual derangement. I got the feeling that he saw my evening romp as some brand of sexual irresponsibility or female discontent. So I waited, hoping that it was just a one time thing, that the enchantment or whatever it was would fade away. But it didn’t.

At first, I was sure it was some fluke, some cyclic anomaly that had bubbled to the surface when I was being sexy ol’ Cleo. But I had to know if that furious passion I’d felt was simply an aberration. I waited until I had met a man I was very attracted to and let things progress until I was in the same situation I’d been in with Neil. The same lusty, hot, melting feeling took me over with the second man as we lay together, but again I swooped up so close to that mysterious peak of release and missed it. This time, I was quiet about it, pretending that I had thoroughly enjoyed it all. Actually, the guy was a fairly decent lover and certainly not what my girlfriends referred to as a “Minute Man.” Nevertheless, I avoided him and did not return his calls. After a couple of weeks, he gave up. And, after that, I also gave up on finding Dr Lepesque, talking to the cops, and because of the cost, I even gave up on the idea of going into therapy.

As sexually vulnerable as I was, I still was not a tramp. I wasn’t capable of becoming a genuine slut, but the fact was, I was a hot pants woman, and that was just how it was. I had gone from indifference or acquiescence at the most to wholehearted, enthusiastic and instant response and it was frightening. I realized too that, if my feelings about lovemaking were so powerful and compelling, I needed to be very careful, and very discreet. And, moreover, I needed to find just one man with whom I could have a fully sexual relationship or risk disease or a very bad reputation.