The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

THE FIRST MEETING

FINALLY I had located an erotic hypnotist!

I love to use my mind to enhance sex....

But what sort of mind control could I expect? Could my mind warp and permanently alter?

I had heard tell of hypnotic accidents and manipulation by unscrupulous hypnotists, and I wondered how susceptible I would really be.

I was nervous meeting “Mr. X” for the first time. Of course, I had no inkling at the time that this Mr. X the hypnotist would one day become the man I called “Master”.

I was impressed as I climbed the steps of the old Greystone building and rang the glowing purple bell marked with an “X”. The neighborhood where he lived looked expensive and established.

My nerves were buzzing with anticipation and fear. I couldn’t have known but heightened emotion and sexual excitement were an erotic hypnotist’s dream ...both open doorways to the mind!

Mr. X seemed an unlikely prospect for a hypnotist.....a hipster of indeterminate age with the requisite heavy glasses, flannel shirt, and beard. We both liked gin and tonic, which was a good beginning, I thought.

As I sat on his leather couch and sipped my drink. I could feel my body relaxing ever so slightly.....Suddenly, without warning, he brandished an old fashioned metal lighter in front of my eyes and held it where I could only stare at the undulating flame. I felt pulled under by a strong wave, my eyes blinking, trying to stay open, the room getting darker.

I fought the temptation to shut my eyes altogether. “Things were happening too fast. I almost slipped under right away!”

There had been no time for small talk, for me to sip my drink...No negotiation or explanation of what would happen...but yet I was falling into trance.

I relaxed and let go, listening to his voice... focusing on the images that he spun as he trailed his words up my body, relaxing each part of it in a slow, controlled fashion.

My cunt was quivering because it felt so good and so hot to listen to him. The idea of being put to sleep by a forceful, aggressive hypnotist had me moist and aching.

He touched my forehead with force, pushing me back against the couch cushions, and his words pulled me down deeper into trance. All the while, he stroked the outline of my breasts bulging above the V of my blouse. The teasing trace of his fingers on my neck and my tits was making my cunt leak, and I felt my focus narrowing more and more... into a relaxing world where only he was important.

“Your name is ‘girl’ now. That is your only name. And you will call me ‘Sir’", he said in measured tones.

A tiny portion of my brain resisted... I was an intelligent, accomplished woman, not a girl... But it felt so good to give in and let Mr. X make it easy for me. I could just let go and relax, and no longer had to think. I let my mind focus on his words, and my body began to obey them.

“Feel my cock in your cunt now”, he asked me to imagine. ‘Feel my cock...Slowly plunging in... and out.... as you get more and more aroused”....He whispered to me, enunciating and drawing out each word. I moved my body closer to him so I could listen and follow him deeper into trance.

I had requested that my clothes stay on for our first meeting.... My clothes were on, yes, but he was still finding ways to stimulate me... rubbing his hand up my silky thighs, and caressing circles around my nipples. All the while, talking softly, his voice falling off at the ends of sentences, almost whispering. As my mind strained to listen, his hot breath in my ear... I was pulled deeper and deeper, down the tunnel, sinking more and more into trance.

He told me I was his “sex toy”, to be used for his pleasure, and the idea made my pussy twitch. I felt on the brink of orgasm.

“You’re being a v-e-r-y good girl”, he repeated. The very words a submissive girl lives for... the phrase that praises and excites.

“Now, let your head rest all the way back, sink into the couch... Let me control your mind. Empty it of thoughts and worries. Mr. X will take over the controls now. Those handles right in front of you...you can let them go, I will move them for you”.

I could see and feel the imaginary levers I was holding, and I let them go, my arms becoming limp.

“No thinking. No decision.....doesn’t that feel wonderful...relaxing? .... Tell me YES, SIR, and feel your relaxation double”.

I hadn’t dreamed I would enjoy the control so much. “Yes, Sir” sprang instantly from my lips, no hesitation. My clit felt as if it would cum with just the slightest pressure. I was so very aroused.

FAST FORWARD

Was it because of Mr. X’s suggestions, or was the way I viewed my life changing?

I couldn’t be exactly sure. Mr. X had told me that he would become my priority, and that prioritization seemed to be happening all on its own.

As an adventurous, attractive, polyamorous woman, I was in demand. Men, women, trans folk, tops, bottoms....... I once had a place for all of them, something I wanted to sample from each.

But since my hypnotic encounters with Mr. X, I had begun to feel that the pressure was off. I no longer needed to try every flavor. I felt calmer, as if a weight had lifted from my shoulders. I was free to say “no” or “yes” as I liked. Now, I usually answered “no” to the never-ending stream of “suitors”.

Mister X reminded me that I had always been submissive, at my very core. This was something I had never told him... but to be sure, it was true. I felt the dominant persona I had created during my time as a top recede.

In fact, I could no longer summon it when playing with submissive boys. Suddenly, the skills I had mastered over the last two years totally left me. My dominant fire was temporarily extinguished. I was content to obey, to not have to think, to just feel and respond to Mr. X. It felt so much easier to be a submissive girl.

I found myself imagining a steel band between my legs, covering my clit, urethra, cunt hole and anus. The metal felt cold at first when putting it on, but it warmed with my body heat. Over my pelvis was a small metal V, and an inlaid pink heart-shaped lock, to which I possessed the key. A rather large key may I add; one that I would not lose.

Mr. X had never suggested chastity to me, but I felt very comfortable and secure in my imaginary belt. I could unlock it to use the bathroom, and even if I chose to couple with another.

I could also unlock it if I needed to masturbate, and just couldn’t quell my arousal any other way. I would rub myself to climax thinking of that smooth piece of metal caressing my pussy parts, feeling myself locked down and controlled.

I was “finding my natural place in the world”, Mr. X replied when I told him of my imaginary “device”.

With more time on my hands, I could paint and pursue my other creative passions. I was beginning to gain some critical acclaim in the local art community, and my portraits and figurative work had been called “strong with an unflinching erotic eye”.

I had time to keep up with my exercise, rest and beauty routines so my body was ready and pussy smooth and clean shaven for Mister X. I was becoming addicted to the thought of him using his cock, hands, and mouth on me in any way he wanted.

Although I did not miss the rat race of the poly dating world, doubts breached my mind. “Why are you putting all your eggs in one basket?’ the voice of reason nagged me. “Aren’t you just Mr. X’s next creation, a Frankenstein’s monster, an engineering experiment?”

And I still had no idea...Could my neural circuitry be permanently altered? What would happen when I was a completed project... Would I be put to rest on the shelf, unable to play any longer...?

Another perfectly finished fuck doll, part of the hypnotist’s long assembly line?

LATER IN TIME

My Master, as I now called Mr. X, was not one for small talk. I had given up on getting to know him, and allowed him to use me as soon as I walked in the door, if that was his wish for our session. He would put me under by telling me to suck his cock. His manhood was like a giant pacifier for me. He told me that with each suck, I would go deeper into hypnosis, and it actually worked.

Although he was too polite to forbid me from asking, I was never sure exactly how he made his living, what his other interests were, or who his family, friends, or lovers were, or if these people even existed.

“Nos” and “negatives” are not the language of hypnotists. Positive reinforcement was more effective. Master would simply mumble a vague response to my questions, smile at me, and then began to relentlessly work me, taking me deep into trance...

Now I could fall asleep with just a touch of his finger to my forehead.

He was using hypnosis and conditioning to make me into “Abby”, his ideal female creation. Being Abby required a puppy-like devotion, obedience to his demands, and a profound wish to please. My answers and responses to his suggestions came without thinking, in an automatic fashion.

I felt I was Abby, when he had me in his private apartment, and under his control. “Yes, Sir, I am Abby now.” I told him. He would work me, until I became tired, or he felt he had made enough progress, taking me in and out of hypnosis, letting me release by cumming at his command.

“Abby is your true identity”, he told me. “Others may call you L____, but L____is just a cloak you wear when in the outside world. Your true identity is Abby, and Abby is the real person living under that cloak.”

The Abby part of me felt totally free to emerge while in Mr. X’s presence, and soon the dichotomy in my mind between L__and Abby began to crumble.

The idea of an alternate persona seemed ridiculous at first. I still felt like my old self, L___, when away from the hypnotist. But I thought of how good it felt when Mr. X was deeply hypnotizing me, and Abby started to occupy a larger place in my psyche.

Soon Abby was sharing equal time with L___. And now, I could slip effortlessly between the two personalities, L___and Abby.... “I AM Abby”, I said trying it on for size. But it was more than an experiment; I had already begun thinking of myself by that name!

The hypnotist wanted Abby to be his fuck toy. I understood I was to be always available to be used by Master and by anyone else of his choosing. He wanted to add a ‘false memory” to my mind, a memory which would seem as if it had really happened.

I was apprehensive about the idea but Mr. X persisted. “A memory is nebulous at best”, he said. “To give examples... imagine looking at a photo of your family vacation in Colorado when you were a school-age child. You think you remember being on that mountaintop with your family...., but is that memory real, or is your mind just filling in gaps and holes? Is that photo so familiar to you now that your ‘memories’ have been manufactured, and not truly remembered?”

Mr. X did implant a new memory. The memory was that Mr. X bent me over a table in a very compromising position, at the corner restaurant near his apartment. In the memory, my ass was exposed, my vulva and cunt lips visible, skirt hiked up to my waist, G-string pushed aside. I remembered the feeling of his cock pushing rudely into me, balls deep. He had not touched me first to make sure I was lubricated, and the first thrust made me gasp in pain, the second in pleasure. I was just a hole for him to fuck and cum in, while the waitress refreshed his drink.

Although the memory of being fucked in a public restaurant defies logic, it wasn’t implausible to me...How could it be when my memory was so vivid? I had been wearing my short black skirt and red keyhole top... I remembered the warm spread of humiliation being exposed to others, and the wetness between my legs because I was simply his possession to be used.

This wasn’t the only memory he implanted, and soon I began to wonder, which memories were “real” and which were deposited there by Mr. X.

CONTROL

Mr. X began to spend more time with me and give me more attention and stimulation. He was careful to keep the sexual conditioning and heavy indoctrination linked.

I hadn’t been so excited to play with a man in years. My skin felt electrified. I felt it ripple and respond with his slightest touch. My arousal level was almost always sky high, even at work with its challenges and distractions. I felt as if I might explode with orgasm most of the time.

But rather than play with myself, I waited for Mr. X’s instructions on how and when I should cum. He taught me to cum by text and also to fall into trance while reading his texts. Every time my phone chimed an incoming text, my pussy tightened up involuntarily and began to twitch in anticipation of the orgasm I knew was coming.

Back at the Mr. X’s Greystone there was harsh sunlight pouring in the paned windows, making patterns on the floor. I stared at the wavering light and he told me “I am manipulating your emotions so you will be more deeply under my control”.

He was brazen in his acknowledgment that I was part of an experiment, but somehow it made me even wetter to think about the callous way he was treating me.

If I seemed shaky after a session or did not imprint as he planned, he took notes in small leather notebook. He would comment on what didn’t work. “I must not have given enough aftercare” he scribbled down next to the date of our session.

The brainwashing continued. “You love your Master. He is the center of your universe. Everything you do, Abby, is focused on me. You are frightened and unable to function without your Master guiding you”.

He would repeat these suggestions over and over. After telling me how much I needed him. I suddenly found that I couldn’t walk. My legs simply wouldn’t work. I sat down on the floor at my Master’s feet and put my head in his lap, in awe of his power.

“Good girl”, he whispered cupping my face and looking in my eyes. “This is where you need to be. Your purpose is to serve me’. And I had never felt a stronger desire to please and obey someone. “I love you Master” I said, and my heart swelled with the knowledge that I loved to be controlled by this man.

Although it was a relief to halt the endless stream of suitors, I still played with my established long term partners. While I couldn’t respond with the same level of enthusiasm that I felt with Master, I wanted to be out with others. Master was often busy with his mysterious “business” and “relationships” and those did not include me.

Although he was free to do as he pleased, he began to question what I was doing in my outside playtime. He wanted to know who I was with and what we had done. And he began dictating what activities were approved.

“You are no longer in control of your body. It belongs to me now.” He told me. “You will not be able to orgasm with another man”. While under hypnosis, I was compliant, agreeable with his suggestions. My cunt became dripping wet when he controlled me like that.

But the next day, I awoke in bed alone, frightened to think that my orgasms could disappear unless Mr. X was allowing me to cum.

I thought of a man I had played with before who loved pussy, ass and sticking things inside me. He was one of those men who just love a woman’s body and making her cum, and are experts at pleasuring.

I invited myself over to his house that afternoon. Although he was curious about my sudden insistence, he was glad I had arrived. He finger fucked and licked me to orgasm several times and I left very relieved that I had not lost the ability to cum.

Was this a narrow escape? After a few more sessions with Master, perhaps his suggestion would have become permanent!

I confided to the man who loved pussy about my dilemma. His response was, “Yes, you are allowing him to hypnotize you, but he is also ABUSING you!”

I thanked him for his concern but was scornful. His understanding of power exchange was so shallow. I was consenting, wasn’t I? I wanted to be controlled and used, didn’t I?

But when I searched “tactics of pimps and abusers’, I wasn’t surprised to see that restricting social access, and creating dependence and emotional attachment were all at the top of that list.

I saw Master soon after my encounter with the pussy-loving man...I needed to tell Mr. X what I had done, but also that I had saved my cunt for his cock like the good girl he wanted me to be.

Although I was afraid to tell him, I had to make it clear that I did NOT want my orgasms to be altered. I had enough sense to know that Master and I would not be together forever.

But consistent with his method, he put me under as soon as I entered the Greystone, and I drifted down dreamily... enjoying the blissful feeling of letting his words fill my head.

Once he awoke me, I opened my mouth to tell him my thoughts but the words became stuck in my throat, blocked from emerging. The memory of what I had wanted to say had totally left me. Gone clear out of my head.

“ I have something to tell you. Sir, but I can’t remember it”, I told him perplexed.

“I will put you back in trance and you will remember what you wanted to say” he said... And sure enough, I could speak effortlessly once under his control. I was stunned... I realized I had finally reached a point where I needed Mr. X’s control in order to think!

THE FINAL CHAPTER

I could only think about Master and his wishes and demands. My canvases sat half-finished in my studio. The will to paint them had evaporated.

I continued to receive pleas from boys who wanted me to control, berate, or beat them. Submissive men are the “carpet that lines the dungeon floor,” Master said derisively. “A dime a dozen”.

I told these boys matter of factly that I was submissive now. I imagined myself lifting a crop, my arm falling back useless before I could even strike a blow. Stories of female dominance were incomprehensible to me, as if listening to a foreign language where only occasional words were recognizable.

The only man that could excite me now was my Master. I wanted only to please and serve him. I began to feel incomplete and anxious if he did not write or text with a command or meet with me for more brainwashing. I started to have difficulty sleeping and my usually healthy appetite disappeared. Tears often welled up in my eyes and slipped down my cheeks unbidden.

It became apparent that I was in a very precarious place, but there was little I could do to stop the way things had become. The only time I was soothed and peaceful was when I was in his presence and under his spell. His texts would soothe my jangled nerves for a time, as I fell into trance imagining him speaking.

To compound matters, Mr. X begun to suggest that I recruit other women for the Dollhouse. I yearned to serve, obey and please. Maybe a mental challenge would revive and energize me. It might be good to exercise my brain again and feel like a woman and not an inarticulate girl who needed her Master to function. I rallied my inner seductress and thought of the submissive, bisexual women I knew.

Joan came to mind right away. She was tall and slim, an eager newcomer to the erotic adventure scene... A natural redhead with translucent skin, a smattering of freckles and a contagious laugh who had flirted with me months ago. Although she was very slim, her breasts were generous and natural with big chewy nipples.... I knew Master would love her!

Joan was very sexual, unafraid, and eager to try all that life could offer. She was intrigued by the idea of Master controlling both of us. “I have always wanted to be hypnotized”, she said with excitement.

I filled her mind with descriptions of Mr. X’s big cock...how its girth would fill her pussy and how he could melt away her stress with his words... “You will feel so good with your pussy stuffed while I massage your clit”, I told her. “We’ll teach you to orgasm on command. Think how much fun that will be!”

...Joan did not need much convincing.

As it turned out, she was a natural like me, easily dropping deeply into trance. She was beautiful to watch as a blank stoned gaze came over her face. I loved to see her body respond to Master’s commands, as if a puppeteer was pulling her strings. Her taste and smell drove me crazy and I loved to bury my nose and mouth in her pussy and tease it from top to bottom with my tongue and caress her erect slippery clit.

As Joan became a larger part our time together, I noticed she was now very familiar with Mr. X’s protocol. She knew how to prepare his favorite beverage, how his cock should be sucked, the way he preferred a submissive present her body and the proper way to address him.

It became obvious that Joan (with the beautiful breasts) was spending time alone with Mr. X, and that she was also training to be a personal fuckdoll for Master.

Master’s time with Joan or “Candy” (as she now called herself) increased. The time and attention he gave me began to diminish. What had once been occasional tears and fretting now became a daily occurrence for me, akin to torture.

I attempted to look up old friends, and bury myself in the activities I had been neglecting. Sadly, I was unable to concentrate or enjoy myself. My leadership role at the arts colony where I kept my studio required a decisive person. But I was unable to offer any new ideas; I could only nod in mute affirmation to what others suggested. I felt bland and robotic.

When “Candy” was visiting I sulked. Master responded that if I was not going to play, I should “spend my time productively. Recruit other women for the Dollhouse”, he suggested.

My heavy feelings lifted when I was alone with Master and he was filling my head. I felt happy and light when under his trance. But once released, I would begin to sob uncontrollably. Master encouraged me to “be strong so I could serve him better”. But as a result of his conditioning I lacked that reserve within me.

Soon, even he, with his single-minded focus, began to see that things were not going well. He realized that I was no longer benefitting him.

I felt powerless, trapped, and unable to make a move or walk away from him. I was hopelessly yoked to Mr. X, unable to make decisions or stop thinking of him.

The afternoon came when he decided to release me. My pitiful presentation had begun to annoy him.

He took me into trance and removed “Abby” from my head. He told me I should no longer to serve him. I no longer needed to save my cunt for his cock. I would have my full sexuality back. I was no longer just a submissive.

Most importantly, he removed himself as the center of my universe, erasing my obsession.

It took a few days for the change to take effect, and I spent the weekend mourning the loss of the Master I loved and had once served. But without his reinforcing texts, suggestions and commands, my mind began to clear.

The canvases in my studio were in use again, and I instinctively chose a brighter and more vibrant palette of colors to paint with. I attended several social functions. Friends and acquaintances remarked at how happy, animated, and “different” I appeared.

Fantasies of female domination roared back into my head with great force. I had to masturbate to take the edge off my excitement. Suppressed during my time with the hypnotist, these desires had become stronger. I dreamt of restraining a boy and molesting his tight asshole, torturing his nipples and teasing his cock and balls till he whimpered to cum. Once he came and fell limp against the bed, I would have him lick my pussy until I came, grinding on his mouth, stopping his breath, and forcing him to swallow my cum.

EPILOUGE:

Once the hypnotist released me, I never looked back....

Well that’s not exactly true...I thought about him and yearned for his control for quite some time.

But gradually my desire for him faded and left.

He never contacted me again. His “Abby” doll was broken and no longer fit to play with.

I had no problem finding boys to dominate, and I even learned to hypnotize them myself. I enjoyed making them writhe with pleasure and watch their bodies respond to my suggestions.

I have decided NOT to try any extreme mind control or subjugation techniques though. I think I will save those for a very special person.