The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Chapter 1: The Good Boy

Ayaan was not sure about America yet. For one thing it seemed to be constantly raining in Seattle, and when it was not raining it was threatening to rain with a sort of low level cloud cover that seemed more like he was a bit player in one of the noir detective movies that his uncle used to love than an engineer for Amazon. Plus the housing was expensive, for the amount he was paying for a one bedroom in the Capitol Hill area of the city, he could have helped his family buy a six bedroom house back home.

“You are just lonely,” his father would say when they Skyped with each other, “go out with some men. Play cricket.”

“Nobody plays cricket here,” Ayaan kept reminding his father, “also I hate cricket.”

“Play baseball then,” his father said, “they have baseball. It say so on Wikipedia, the Seattle Mariners.”

The young man nodded, annoyed but not wanting to argue further with his father who had helped pay for his education. Like many Indians his parents had worked hard to get their son a modern western education in hopes of getting a job in the United Kingdom, United States or another country working in technology.

It was just hard to settle into a life in a new place, and harder when it seemed that the country you were trying to move to was doing its best to expel people like you. Granted most of the news on television was about Mexicans and the need for a wall but it was hard not to notice that for some people the message was if you’re not white then you weren’t welcome.

“We’re friends right?” Mark asked, stopping by Ayaan’s desk before lunch the next day. Mark wore a polo shirt and the same lanyard / keycard that Ayaan had.

“We are?” Ayaan asked, acting surprised and befuddled before grinning, “Yes Mark we are.”

“Good, so. You know what friends do? They help each other out and...”

“I am not loaning you money,” Ayaan said, then felt bad about that and despite his father’s advice to never loan anyone money, he added, “how much do you need?”

“No, come on. I don’t need money. I’m going to see a doctor to help with my weight-loss,” Mark said, “and I wanted to... well they make me nervous and this is... embarrassing but normally my mom comes and she’s back home in Ohio so...”

“You want me to be your mother?” Ayaan asked.

“Well I wouldn’t put it like that,” Mark said, “but yes.”

“Do I get to pet my little baby’s head,” Ayaan grinned, teasing again.

“Look, forget it.”

“No, I’ll come, but you have to stop raining Ashe. You’re just not good with her,” Ayaan said, referring to their intra-company Overwatch team.

Two days later the men were seated in an office in the Ballard neighbourhood of Seattle. A woman in a knee length black skirt and blue blouse sat behind a desk looking at some papers. She glanced up and smiled, pointing at Mark.

“So you’re here for weightloss,” she said.

Mark nodded.

“And you,” she said pointing at Ayaan, “are here for what?”

“I am his mother,” Ayaan said, seriously.

The woman laughed, “Well we get all sorts, but seriously you’re here for what moral support?”

“Yeah he’s just backup,” Mark said.

The woman, all 5′4″ of her nodded, “I am very scary.”

“Doctor’s make me nervous,” Mark said.

“First we could fix that, looks like your health coverage would cover it. Secondly I’m a therapist not a doctor,” she said, “I work with helping people break out of destructive behavioral patterns.”

“What’s the difference?” Ayaan asked.

“I get paid less.”

For the next twenty minutes or so Mark and the therapist, whose name Ayaan learned was Rachel Maddison, talked about his weight-loss goals, eating habits and the emotions around eating. It was all fairly dull for Ayaan, but he felt that puling out his phone to play some Marvel Contest of Champions was probably not the supportive thing to do.

So instead he let his mind wander, thought about the time difference back home and wondered what his sisters were doing. His attention then turned to the therapist who was lovely. Fair skinned, dark hair that he wondered if it had been dyed. She was young, their age which was a bit odd. All his doctors had always been his parents’ age, but then he supposed she was not a doctor.

“I’m going to hypnotize you now Mark,” Rachel Maddison said, “Ayaan please for this portion please be very quiet so that Mark can focus.”

“Have I not been quiet,” Ayaan asked, worried that he had somehow been making a scene without knowing.

“Yes, just continue that way for now,” she said, setting a metronome down on her desk and starting it swinging.

Not that he had been looking for one, but this was the first time that Ayaan had seen a metronome in America. His aunt, the one married to his uncle who loved noir movies, had been a piano teacher and Ayaan remembered it from his lessons. It helped keep time when playing, and instantly brought back memories of warm summer days stuck inside practicing when all he wanted to do was go out and play with the other kids.

Doctor Maddison... not a doctor, right. She was telling Mark to pay attention to the metronome and see only it. Explaining how he would take deep breaths in and let them out she demonstrated by doing so herself. Ayaan watched her chest rise and fall in a slow and steady pattern as she set the pace of breathing for Mark. Ayaan’s eyes followed the movements of her chest, trying to look without staring at the very small amount of cleavage that she had on display.

Next she began to talk about something that relaxed Mark and they spoke about baths. Ayaan had never really liked baths, had always been too busy and found sitting in water for so long too boring. He thought that if she had asked him he’d have said that he found riding on the bus to work relaxing. It was sparse compared with the bus, or trains, back home and if he got a seat he could just turn off his mind and listen to music for forty minutes until it got to the Amazon campus.

Ayaan thought about that, the gentle sway of the bus’ motion which in his mind matched the rise and fall of. Rachel Maddison’s chest and the soft musical melody of her voice and the ticking of the metronome keeping time. Keeping everything in time.

Ayaan heard his name, and half said and half asked, “Yes?”

“You feel very relaxed, comfortable and sleepy,” Rachel said, with each of the three adjectives she snapped her fingers which seemed to make those feelings grow within Ayaan. Her wanted to keep watching her chest, but his eyes were struggling to keep up. He had the brief thought that it would be very embarrassing if he fell asleep during Mark’s appointment.

“Tell me how you feel now Ayaan.”

“Relaxed, aroused,” Ayaan answered.

“Why are you aroused?”

“I am watching your boobs,” he said, not sure why it felt okay to revert to the most childish way of describing her breasts but it felt fine. He was comfortable and nothing worried him. He was so relaxed that he did not hear the amusement in her voice as she spoke next, “My boobs are very relaxing aren’t they Ayaan.”

“Yes,” he agreed. It was nice to look at them.

“You feel so good and relaxed even just seeing them inside my blouse. If you saw them uncovered you’d feel so much better, so much more relaxed. In fact seeing my breasts would make you go into a deep sleep Ayaan,” she said.

Ayaan blinked but said nothing. That sounded right, her breasts were nice.

He watched her hands undoing her blouse and then unclasping her bra. He felt so relaxed and comfortable then her breasts where there, bare and brilliant right in front of him. He inhaled, and heard a woman’s voice tell him to sleep.

The next week after a long day at Amazon Ayaan realized that he had gotten on the wrong bus. Rather than heading to Capitol Hill he was in Ballard, not far from where Mark’s therapist was. Swearing to himself he got off at the next stop after he realized his mistake. Hungry he stopped in at a brew pub to grab a bite to eat before calling an Uber to take him home.

Entering he was surprised to see Mark’s therapist seated at a table alone. Feeling an urge to say hello he approached, “Doctor Maddison?”

“Not doctor. Hello Ayaan, I’m glad you could make it,” she said.

“Sorry, Maddison, Ms. Maddison,” he said trying to find something to call her.

“For now call me Rachel,” she said.

“Sorry, I am not. I made a mistake with the bus and now I’m here,” he explained, not wanting her to think he’d come all this way to see her when he had no way of knowing she’d be here.

Rachel laughed, “You’re a very good subject Ayaan. You forgot everything perfectly, but remembered your instructions and obeyed well. Just like you wanted to. I’m pleased, Good Boy.”

Ayaan was about to ask what she was talking about but the words ‘Good Boy’ made his cock immediately rock hard and he felt like he was about to orgasm. Nothing happened, and the feeling faded after a second but the sensation was so strong and so sudden that he forgot to be confused.

“Can I eat with you?” he asked.

“I like that you’re so polite, sure sit down. I’d love the company,” she said, “so Ayaan tell me what you do outside of work.”

“I do not do much. I have only been in America six months now,” he said.

“Have a girlfriend back home? Are you married, or arranged to be married?” Rachel asked.

“That’s not as common anymore,” Ayaan explained, “and no. It would be too hard to do that. It is already hard settling into a new country.”

“I can imagine. I moved from Portland, and it feels like a million miles away. My whole scene is back there,” she said.

“What is your scene?” he asked.

“My friends, my interests. I was a little bit Goth, and worked as an erotic hypno-domme for awhile. Had lots of devotees,” she said.

Ayaan nodded, then shook his head, “Sorry my English is good but what did you just say?”

“Your English is better than mine,” Rachel laughed, “and what I mean is that before becoming a therapist I used to hypnotize people and make them sexual slaves for money. BDSM, that sort of thing.”

“Like the Grey movie?” Ayaan asked.

“Sort of yes. Some people like being controlled. For some people that idea is arousing and some people like that control to be physical like whips and chains and others like it to be mental, like hypnosis,” she explained.

Ayaan nodded, not really understanding but going along with it. He had obviously seen those whips and leashes and other things either on porn sites or in the adult stores that he’d walked past around Seattle. Still to meet someone who seemed so, well conservative and put together and normal who was saying that she was into that. It was a bit surprising.

“I think you’re into that,” she said.

Ayaan laughed and shook his head, “No no. I am very normal, boring even.”

“Can I try something?” she asked.

Ayaan nodded and Rachel glanced around. Seeing the waitress at the bar flirting with the bartender and nobody else around she pulled up the Pearl Jam t-shirt that she was wearing revealing her bare tits to Ayaan. He blinked surprised then with a heavy sigh his head fell forwards as he slumped back into the cushioned booth seat.

A few moments later he woke up to find that he was masturbating, his jeans undone and his hand on his cock. He felt a sense of panic, but found himself unable to stop even when the waitress brought their drinks over. With his free hand he threw a napkin over his lap, which was enough for his actions to go unnoticed by the waitress who Rachel kept distracted with conversation.

When they were alone again he looked panicked at her, “What is happening?”

“I told you to jerk off, and to not stop or cum until I say a certain two words,” she explained.

“Why?” he asked, his heart racing.

“Tell me how it feels, to obey me and not be able to resist,” she said.

“Scary,” he said.

“And?”

Ayaan swallowed, “Sexy.”

She smiled at him, “Is this a feeling you’d like to explore more with me?”

Ayaan did not feel like he had a lot of time to think about it, but realized that there was nothing more in the world that he wanted more than that. He nodded, still nervous but also with a growing excitement at what might happen next.

Rachel glanced around again and then ducked under the table as if she was looking for a contact. Ayaan felt her on his legs, her head moving into his lap and her tongue flicking at his erect cock. He moaned and then heard from under the table, “Good boy.”

All of a sudden he released, and had the most powerful orgasm he’d ever had. He managed to keep himself from making too much noice, and nobody noticed as the therapist under the table sucked up his cum, gave his cock another lick and then climbed back out from under the table.

“I do not know what to say,” he said finally after they had sat in silence for a moment following that.

This seemed to amuse Rachel and she said, “Well you will soon and soon you’ll be calling me Mistress.”