The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

There’s a whimsical part of me that thinks it must have been fate. Sometimes as I’m patting her on the head after a well-performed blowjob, I sit back and try to wrap my brain around the chances. But I’m getting ahead of myself...

It started in high school. She, let’s call her “Jane,” was between boyfriends at the time. We were seventeen, each of us a bundle of hormones looking for a place to explode, and taking a break from studying when she noticed one of the books on my older brother’s shelf.

“Hypnosis for Morons?” she asked. “Why should a moron be trusted with hypnosis?”

“Well, when he comes back from college, I’ll ask him.” I responded, which made her laugh. She pulled the book down and brought it to the table. “Here, try me.” she dared.

“What, now?” I asked.

“I wanna see if it really works.” she said. I opened the book and started reading. “I’m waitiiiing.” she sang teasingly.

“Sorry, I flunked out of that speed-reading class.” I replied. I closed the book. “Gimme ‘til Friday, OK? If I know Mr. Butler, he’ll give us one of those weekend take-home tests, so you’ll have an excuse to come over.”

“Then what?”

“Then, Ms. Smarty-Pants, you’ll have your dare.” I said.

“You’re on!” she said.

I studied the book hard, and when Friday came, Jane was barely inside the door before I had her slipping deep into trance. I admit I cheated a little, practicing on my family during the week and using said practice to get my younger sister to spend the weekend with a friend of hers, and my parents to spend it at the lake house. This left me alone with Jane, free to let my hypnotic explorations run amok (insert maniacal laughter here). That first weekend, I completely forgot to make her forget what we’d done. She remembered me tricking her into thinking she was at home alone in her own bathroom, getting ready for a shower. She remembered thinking she still had her clothes on. She remembered role-playing as a cat-girl in heat, a naughty nurse, a saucy French maid, and even a mindless sex robot. She remembered me enhancing the sensitivity of her erogenous zones to make up for my lack of experience.

And she loved every minute of it.

We ‘hooked up’ officially after that. She encouraged me to try new things, like a pusher trying to get someone to move on to some of the harder drugs. I crafted elaborate, romantic fantasies for her, found new games to play, new tricks to pull, how to make her forget things temporarily, and so on, and most of it I restored to her, eventually. I felt a little guilty about never letting her remember role-playing as an adoring love-slave without a past, memories or even a name, just utter and complete obedience, devotion and love for whoever said “Viseet Green 406” (the result of folding a piece of stationary into a paper airplane and reading the address letterhead at the top). I admit, I was afraid of what she might do if she knew about that scenario. Then her father got a new job in another state, and after that, there simply was no time. She couldn’t get two seconds to catch her breath as her family hurriedly prepared to move, and I could hardly tell her I’d been turning her into an amnesiac love-slave while her family was around, to say nothing of putting her under to remove her triggers. She couldn’t even give me her new address or telephone number because they hadn’t even found out where they were going to live. I knew she had my number. She could call whenever she wanted. I even gave her a quarter for a pay phone as she gave me a brain-melting kiss goodbye while half-hanging out of the back window of her parents’ station wagon as her father started the engine.

Fast-forward ten years. I hadn’t seen or heard from Jane since that day. I’d had a few girlfriends, most of whom were subjects at some of the frat parties where I “did my hypno-thing” as they termed it. Coincidentally, they seemed to be the ones I got to have orgasms when a certain trigger-word was used. Imagine that. My major, however, wasn’t psychology. It was computer science. After I got my degree, I started a small computer-repair business with three friends of mine from the college. I know you’re not really supposed to do it like that, but we pooled the leftovers from our Pell grants to start the business, and gave it back once we made it back—which was easy enough, since our only competition was the local ISP, which had been bought out by the same corporation that had bought out the phone company. One of us (not me, unfortunately) got the bright idea to teach computer repair courses as a kind of apprenticeship to get some extra help around the shop since we were doing so much business. That quickly evolved into the computer repair school next door, run by two of the other partners, who also taught alongside our first graduates.

Keeping up with the latest stuff involved going to conventions and expos and so on. It was my turn this time, so I got into the company car (a third-hand hunter-green ‘98 Pontiac Sunfire with our business name stenciled on the doors) and drove to Dallas, where the event was being held. It was a weekend affair, and by Sunday afternoon, I had two bags full of computer-related swag, and was working on the third.

“John?” someone asked. (Not my real name, by the way.) I turned around to find Jane standing there, all smiles. The years had been kind to her, filling out her girlish frame with womanly curves.

“Jane?” I asked. “Wow, you look awesome!” Indeed she did, the cut of her tailored business suit taking advantage of her assets. She leaned close and kissed me as if it had been ten minutes, not ten years.

“You’re not looking so bad yourself.” she said. “What are you up to these days?”

“Running a computer repair shop with some buddies from college. You?”

“Persuading small companies that being eaten by a mega-corporation is actually a good thing.” she said with distaste. “Lucky for you, I don’t think they’re interested in gobbling up a PC repair place. But at least you own your own business.”

“Technically, I’m a one-quarter partner in the business.” I corrected. “So how’s your job treating you?”

“Like like an ordinary kid in a house full of honor-students.” she admitted. “Yours?”

“It has its ups and downs.” I said. “So, are you here looking for more sacrificial victims to the Corporate God?” She laughed.

“Not really, the boss has been on me to put pressure on one who’s resisting.”

“You don’t like it.”

“Does it show?” she asked wryly, then decided to change the subject. “How about we meet up later?”

“Anxious to pick up where we left off?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m much better now.” she responded with a smile. “I have a hunch it’d help me take my mind off of things.”

“Hmm, it just might.” I replied, with a grin.

“Looking forward to it.” she said, kissing me on the lips. “Where should we meet?”

“How about 8pm in the lobby?” I asked. “Provided I haven’t spent my dinner money on something shiny by then.” She laughed again, and our date was set. Seeing her again brought back a flood of memories and feelings I’d thought long gone. Could I possibly have asked for a better opportunity to get my one major regret off my chest? I couldn’t wait until eight.

I changed into some nice clothes around seven-thirty and rode the elevator down to the lobby. She was already waiting.

“You don’t mind starting the party a little early, do you?” she asked. “Sorry, I couldn’t sit still and wait.”

“No problem.” I replied, offering her my arm. She was wearing the obligatory Little Black Dress, black fuck-me pumps and take-my-cherry red lipstick. “If you dressed like that for work, small businesses would be lining up for mergers around the block.”

“Do you still practice hypnosis?” she asked.

“Oh, I’m much better now.” I replied with a wink. I seated her in the Sunfire, walked around to the driver’s side door, and got in. Before I even started the car, I had her under and was deepening the trance. She went deep quickly, even after all this time. I told her to open her eyes and behave as if she were awake, but remain deep in trance and be at ease obeying all my suggestions.

“Well, this is interesting.” she said with a smile. I smiled back and pulled into a restaurant with a $10 buffet. I know, not exactly haute cuisine, but most of my money was invested in the business. Besides, I wasn’t much for small portions and big price tags. On the way in, I suggested that she would become more and more aroused as the meal progressed, and when she finished her dessert, she would have a strong orgasm. I also suggested that she forget I had suggested it until after it happened.

We started with a salad. I noticed that though she started out with lettuce and four cherry tomatoes, most of what she put on it was meat and nuts. She put creamy ranch dressing over the top of it. I kept my salad small so that I’d have room for the main course later. I noticed the flush spreading across her face as she ate her salad. By the time I got back with a plate of catfish, a generous helping of tartar sauce and hushpuppies, she was breathing hard and the flush had spread down her neck to her breasts. When she went for her main course, I noticed that she had chosen smoked sausage, hot links and Swedish meatballs. I finished my fish and went back for a chicken drumstick and mashed potatoes. She was really having trouble by the time I finished with that, so I suggested we go ahead and get dessert. She nodded assent, and we both got a bowl of banana pudding.

She bit her lip to stifle her screams as she finished the pudding and had her orgasm just as I’d suggested. I whistled innocently as the memory of my suggestions returned.

“That was awesome.” she whispered. “More?” I smiled, and sent her deeper into trance. I took her deeper than I’d ever taken anyone before.

“Now, Jane, I want you to open your eyes and follow me.” I told her. She obeyed, and we left quietly. I left ten dollars on the table for the waitress, since she’d been real good about keeping our glasses filled.

I made sure Jane was safely belted in before I went around to my side. I drove us back to the hotel and led her to my room. I lay her on the bed and caressed her reposed face. It was time.

“Jane, you remember when we were together, how sometimes I had you forget things we did temporarily?”

“Yes.” she responded quietly.

“You left so suddenly that there wasn’t time to restore everything to you. Look back in your mind, Jane. You’ll see the blank places I left. Minutes, hours, even sometimes days locked away in little safes.”

“I see them.” she sighed tiredly.

“It’s time—past time, in fact—for you to remember. I’m going to count backwards from ten, and as I count, the combination locks on all the safes are going to turn on their own, unlocking themselves so that you can see inside. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.”

She gasped, her eyes open but darting about. It was like holding someone’s eyelids open while they were in REM sleep. The final secrets were revealed. Her hips humped at the air as she mentally relived long-ago sex acts, long-forgotten orgasms, and afterglows from her adolescence. At last she lay quietly, having regained all the buried memories, and I guided her back to the present and wakefulness.

“Wow.” she said at last. “It’s like...like my whole capacity for love was all directed at you.”

“I was afraid of what would happen if you knew about that.” I said.

“I understand.” she said. “Do it again? For old times’ sake?”

“If that’s what you want.” I said. I took a deep breath, caressing her cheek, and then whispered the words “Viseet Green 406.” She sighed, her head slumping forward. When she opened her eyes, Jane had disappeared, and in her place was the very personification of love, devotion, obedience and submission, a creature without a past or an identity, only an eternal present and the nature I’d crafted for her.

“Master, how may Your humble slave serve You?” she asked. I kissed her, and she moaned in pleasure. I undressed her, caressing each body part as it was unveiled for me.

“I want you on your hands and knees, slave.” I told her. She complied, presenting her ass for me. Her slit was as wet as it had ever been. I undressed and crawled behind her, mounting her like a dog on a bitch. She was even hotter than I remembered. Her body bucked and writhed beneath me, in the throes of a pleasure that as far as she knew was unlike anything she had ever experienced. I came like a fire hose. It hadn’t been that intense for me since the first time. As programmed, the love-slave once known as Jane came hard as soon as she felt my semen enter her.

“Okay, slave, lick me clean.” I said, and she obeyed happily, licking my partially-deflated member until it was slick with her saliva instead of the mixture of semen and feminine lubricant that had coated it when I pulled out. I kissed her on the forehead, then had her do tricks, like a well-trained pet. She was happy to entertain me. Around midnight, I felt up for another go. I commanded her to kneel before me, and I had her give me a blowjob.

She might not have remembered her past, but the “hows” and “whats” were intact in that pretty little head of hers. Somewhere she had learned to give head like a pro. If it hadn’t been for the fact that I’d already ejaculated once that night, I would have gone off far too soon, not only as a result of her consummate skill, but also the total love and devotion in her eyes as she gazed up at me, my cock in her mouth like a tasty treat, playing with one boob with one hand and her pussy with the other. She could sense my ejaculation approaching, and withdrew my cock from her throat, so only the head was in her mouth. She pumped my shaft with her hand until I came in her mouth. She came as hard as I did, her hips bucking wildly, juices squirting onto the carpet, but she was careful not to bite down on me. She made something of a production out of swallowing the load I’d given her, and she smiled once she’d shown me her empty mouth. I patted her on the head, lay back on the bed and napped until two.

When I woke up, I found my slave kneeling right there, exactly where I’d left her. I decided she’d been idle long enough and got up. I told her to bend over the bed and present her ass to me. It was time to take her final hole.

I smeared some hand lotion on my cock to lube it up, and I slid in slowly, gently, letting her get used to the feeling. She moaned and gasped and cooed encouragingly. I inched slowly, ever so slowly, into her tightest hole. She came hard as my balls touched her pussy. She turned her head to look lovingly at me—as best she could in this position, anyway. I moved out, then shoved it back in, slowly gaining speed as I fucked her ass for all it was worth. Slave was incoherent, lost in a wash of ecstasy and perhaps agony too. Everything I did to her was a delight. That was the way she was in this persona. She shook in a second orgasm as I was working my way toward mine. I came in her butt, and she had the strongest orgasm of the evening. I fell on my ass as my legs decided they weren’t going to hold me up anymore. It took twenty minutes before I was recovered enough to go to the bathroom. I had slave-Jane accompany me.

I started the shower and moved us both into the spray. I commanded her to clean me thoroughly, and that’s what she did. Her soapy hands moving over my body restored my erection, and I slid my soapy cock into her pussy, pinning her to the wall while the water sprayed down my back. I wasn’t sure how much semen I had left in me, but I gave it all to her in one final, glorious climax. As we sat in the tub recovering, I caressed her beautiful face. She nuzzled adoringly into my hand like a cat leaning into the hand that pets her.

I got us dried off and returned to the bedroom. I whispered the words to restore her self, and she hung limply in my arms during the transition. She looked up at me with confusion until I re-hypnotized her, drawing her once more deeply into trance, and unlocking the memories of this last interlude for her viewing pleasure.

“Wow, you are awesome, John.” she said with a smile. “Maybe it’s the fact that you’re the only one I’ve ever been with who seemed to give a damn about how I felt, but...awesome.” She caressed my face the same way I’d caressed hers in the shower. “It’s hard to believe I could be so happy.” We lay on the bed, curled up together. She started to cry.

“What’s wrong, Jane?” I asked softly.

“I want to forget again. I want to forget what it’s like to be a corporate hit-woman. I want to forget what it’s like to have to wait until the guy I just slept with leaves so I can get my own rocks off.” She looked at me with a frightening intensity. “John, please...say those words that make me your slave again. And never say the words that let me be me.”

“Jane...” I began, brushing the tears out of her eyes, “I’m willing to be your Master if you’re willing to be my slave, but we have to do this right. How would your slave-self feel if the cops showed up to shuffle me off to a Federal prison on one coast and you off to a deprogramming facility on the other one?”

“Probably about the same as my free self would feel.” she said unhappily. To placate her, I began to brainstorm out loud the best way to go about it. She relaxed and stopped crying. I wasn’t really rejecting her, and she knew it. Now that she knew I was giving serious thought to making her newfound dream a reality, she seemed more at peace now than any time that evening, other than when she was in trance or amnesiac.

Fast-forward six months. All the loose ends in her life were tied up, and she was at last free of her job. We had a civil ceremony with my partners as witnesses. I even carried her across the threshold when we returned to my house in the suburbs. I had plenty of vacation time built up, and I spent it all with my new bride. Most of it was spent making the permanent changes to Jane to craft her new, happy life.

Now she never has to wake from her dream. As for me, the contented sigh she gives me after a long night of lovemaking smooths away any conscience pangs. It’s not like I’m going to do it to anyone else. My little Jane Doe is happy, and she makes me happy, which makes her even happier. What more could a guy ask for?