The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Snap.

She blinked away her momentary confusion before looking around, hoping that no one else had noticed her nodding off in the middle of a meeting. The last thing she needed was to lose out on a quarterly bonus because someone decided to rat her out to management. To her relief, she was the only person out of ten who wasn’t nodding off or on their way to doing so. She tried to hide a knowing grin—McPhearson’s slideshows really were a tremendous bore.

“Anyone have any comments?” McPhearson scanned the room, finding the same sleepy faces and bored expressions. He did not try to hide, or form, a knowing grin. “Anyone?”

Brimming with confidence, and with her grin converted into a demure smile, she raised her hand.

Snap.

She shook her head to clear away the cobwebs, causing strands of wayward hair to fall in front of her eyes like curtains. She brushed them away, revealing a stunning beach unlike any she’d ever visited. Warm blue waves threw themselves against the shore with no bathers or swimmers to stop them; they’d arrived early enough to beat the rush of tourists, exactly as planned.

“I could live right here,” she declared, drawing a little rectangle in the sand with her big toe. “Right here, right on this beach, in a little shack.”

Henry smiled. “What about the job?”

He took her by the hand. Back in Melbourne, she would have shrugged off his advances with a polite twist of the wrist. But here, amid the crashing waves and the brilliant sunshine and the miles of open sand… she felt herself relax, a flower opening itself to the new day. She could be anyone she wanted to be, here. Henry’s platonic lover, for one. And if he played his cards just right…

Snap.

But there were too many people around for that. No, if she really wanted to make sweet love to sweet Henry on a blanket spread across the sand, she should have dragged him to the beach much, much earlier. As it was, she felt a little self-conscious about holding his hand, and she let it drop away without saying anything.

He didn’t respond, instead turning his attention to the crowd of swimmers dashing in and out of the surf. “There’s a lot of people here.”

“That’s what you get for sleeping in.”

“It’s just that, when we’re together, we always feel so safe and cozy. Don’t you feel that way now? Warm and relaxed, and safe and cozy with me? You’re always safe with me. Safe and relaxed.”

“Safe and relaxed.” Her pretty blue eyes dimmed. “Safe and relaxed. Listen to your voice.”

“Let it take you even deeper.”

That didn’t make any sense, but she found herself nodding anyway. “Mmm,” she mumbled. Her mouth was suddenly too lazy to make words, and it was getting harder and harder to raise her head after each nod. She felt drowsy, like she was about to fall asleep right here at the beach, before she’d even had a chance to lie down. It was a good thing Henry was there to keep her standing. Warm, safe, wonderful Henry. His voice was so deep, so strong, so commanding. He said something else and she bobbed her head in response, trusting that it was something she could ask him about later. After she woke up. After she… just…

Snap.

“Hey!” Henry had both hands on her shoulders, rocking her back and forth. “Hey,” he said again. “I thought you said this was a nude beach? I don’t think it is. Look.”

He released her, letting her turn in a tight circle, her eyes darting from beachgoer to beachgoer. All of them were covered in all of the usual places, which either meant that this was the most conservative nudist beach in all of Australia, or…

“Bugger me!” Her hands quickly found her chest, and for the first time in her life, she found herself wishing for smaller tits. Or bigger hands. “Give me your towel!”

“Left ’em in the Kombi,” he shrugged. The shit-eating grin on his face suggested it was not an oversight.

She glanced around, teetering on the edge of panic. No one was looking in their direction. Yet. No kids, either. But she couldn’t just run back to the van in all of her naked glory, and Henry looked as if he was ready to settle down for a comfy day at the shore. With no other options, she dropped into a crouch, keeping her body as close to the warm sand as she dared. This left her ass high and dry, but a naked ass was probably better than showing off her cunt to the world.

“Do you trust me?” Henry looked at her, a scientist eyeballing a particularly fascinating butterfly. A butterfly stuck to a pin that was firmly planted in the sand. “If you do, then listen carefully.”

“I do…” The intended n’t got cut off.

“Then stand up, and be proud of your body. Show it off to everyone.”

“No!,” she hissed. “I’ll get… it’s illegal, Henry! Imagine what my—”

“You have a gorgeous body, and you’re not afraid to show it off. That is what you believe.”

“That’s… that’s what I believe.”

“You’re happy to take off your clothes in front of me. In front of anyone.”

That was weird. And it wasn’t true at all! “Yes,” she said. “I understand.” Wait, what?

“You’ll forget that last part, at least for now.” He’d pulled a longneck out from somewhere and was talking to her between swigs. “When you wake up, you won’t remember about being happy to take your clothes off. Not until I remind you about it. Now stand up, and lower your arms.”

“Lower my… yes, Henry. I, uh, I trust you.”

She wobbled to her feet and, bracing for shouting or possibly worse, let her arms fall to her sides.

Snap. “And, we’re back from vacation.”

“Whoa. That was intense!” Her hands instinctively reached for breast and stomach, confirming with two touches that yes, her clothes were still on. The memory made her scowl. “That was mean, Henry! I was having such a nice dream vacation, and you had to ruin it for your own fun!”

“I just give you nudges, Jessica,” he said, his voice slipping into the role of the Stern Teacher. “That’s all a hypnotist does, really. I give you an idea, a concept, a ‘what would you do were this to happen?’ sort of thing, and then you take it from there.”

She glanced at his hand, the one that so recently covered hers, and considered his words. “So, if you commanded me to let you hold my hand, I’d—”

“Well, I can’t even do that. You don’t command people under hypnosis. It’s not science fiction. All you can do is hope that they have an active imagination and can enjoy whatever suggestions you put into their heads. And so I could whisk you away from boring old Melbourne and take you on a beach holiday, all for free, all without having to pack a bag. Pretty amazing, isn’t it?”

“Pack a bag…” Her scowl returned, but with enough of a smile to disarm it. “Next time I’m going to remind myself that I packed an entire trunk of clothes, so that when you tell me that I’m naked…”

“See? You’ve got the hang of it. It’s a bit like lucid dreaming. You’re in control, you get to see what you want to see, and if there’s something that you wanted more of…”

“I signed up for hypnotherapy, Doctor. Not hypno-roleplay.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Did you have fun today? When you stood up, at the end, when you knew everyone was going to look at you, were you scared?”

“No.” After a beat, she continued. “Because I trust you. Because… I knew deep down that I was hypnotized, and that you were guiding me through it all. So if you said that it was okay… you’d make certain that it was. Is that? I mean, I think that’s right?” She snickered. She did trust Henry. “Oh, that was crazy! I could smell the salty air and hear the waves and everything!”

“You’re a good subject, Jessica. That’s why you could see and smell those things. A good subject doesn’t need to go beyond being told that she’s at the ocean. She takes care of the rest herself. So if you didn’t want to be naked…”

“Oh, I am not pulling off my shirt for you!” She laughed, her hands teasing the edges of her blouse, showing off a millimeter of bare skin underneath. “Yes, master,” she giggled. “Do you really get off on that? Does anyone?”

“Do you?”

“Not… hey!” She yanked her blouse down and tucked her hands underneath her ass, as if to hold them in place. “Not even a fair question, Henry!”

“As a hypnotherapist, I’d like to point out that you’re blushing just a bit.”

“That’s it!” Her blue eyes sparked. “We’re done. I mean it. I’m going to tell the world about you.”

“How amazing I am?”

“How…” A ringtone captured the attention of her ears, then her eyes. She scanned the coffee table in front of her, brushing aside papers and a mug.

“Your bag?” Henry suggested, but she’d already recovered her phone from beside her on the sofa. She glanced down at the screen, her smile quickly becoming into a worried frown.

“What?”

She stared at the display as if she were trying to see through it, to follow the wireless signal all the way back to its source and out of the screen at the other end. “It’s… huh. Weird. It’s from Germany. Who in God’s name would call me from Germany?”

“It’s a spam caller. Just ignore it.”

“I guess. Maybe I should? It could be someone I know.” She looked down at the phone again. “I swear to God, Henry, I have the weirdest, most overpowering urge to answer the call.” Her face curled into annoyance, and she stabbed violently at the screen with her thumb until it located the red ‘disconnect’ button. The phone fell silent, as did Jessica.

“Jess,” said Henry. His voice was full of urgent concern. “Give me your phone.”

“Why? You’re right, it’s just a stupid spam caller.”

“Listen. Sleep and obey, Jessica. Obey now.”

“What?” Her eyelids fluttered rapidly, and she pressed her fist against the seat for support. “Henry, nnnnooo… we jusssst…”

“Obey,” he commanded. “Obey now.”

“Buuuuhhhhnnnnnn….”

He stood and took two steps forward, until he was towering above her. “Jessica, you’ll never notice that you called a number in Germany. If you get an extra charge from your carrier you’ll assume it’s a mistake on their part, but it’s not worth fighting. You’ll pay the stupid bill and move on. Understood?”

“Pay the stupid bill and move on,” she mumbled. “Yes, I understand.”

“Empty your mind of all thoughts. Nothing there, just empty space. Sleep.”

Her mouth opened, then closed, as there was nothing to report, no response to give. Her mind was blank, nothing but empty space. There were no thoughts left to turn into words.

“Good,” he said.

She let the words drift past her into the blackness.

He didn’t call the number right away, choosing instead to scroll through Jessica’s list of incoming numbers, wondering if other mystery calls had preceded this one. The recent flood of spam calls was a blessing to mind controllers, whose own hypnotic calls could now more easily be disguised and forgotten as junk.

Her phone had as much junk as his own. Most of it was from Melbourne, as expected. Phoebe still called every day, usually more than once. He frowned; that still needed to be taken care of. Perhaps he could get both of them in on a session, the skeptic offering to protect the believer, until both of them were so deeply under his control that he could discard any need to ruin their friendship. They could both fuck Jessica, and they’d both have what they wanted.

The fantasy was strong enough that, lost in it, he nearly missed the patterns he’d been scrolling for. Calls from Germany, each at a different time of day, each from a different number, each going straight through to Jessica without being snared by the spam filter. Someone had clearly taught a very sleepy Jessica how to disable that filter on her phone, then ordered her to never notice it.

He knew exactly who that someone was.

“You fucking cunt.” He began to dial, got three numbers in, then placed the phone in front of his hypnotized patient and headed for the corner cabinet. Although not a drinking man, he kept a bottle of Archie Rose tucked away specifically for times like these. “Well. This again,” he said, pouring as much as he dared into a tumbler. Jessica would be suspicious if she snapped out of a “brief nodding off” to find him drunk. “As if that asshole in Singapore wasn’t enough for one month. Now the bitch again.”

Back to the phone, drink in hand. He took a deep breath.

“Bitch.”

He launched into it as soon as he heard the click on the other end of the line. “Is this Amanda? Because you’ve got a lot of fucking nerve, calling her still.”

“Oh, lovely! She’s found someone to help her!”

The voice was Irish and musical, far from the cold and nasty German he’d been expecting. It threw him off, and he froze, which the party on the other end took as a signal to continue. “That will save me quite a bit of trouble, dearie. Have you cleaned up her triggers, then? Even the buried ones?”

“If you think you can call her and turn her into your little hypnotized sex toy, think again.” He let his anger carry him forward. “Is this Amanda? Who are you?”

“What’s more important, Harrison William Tooley the Fourth, is that I know who you are, and just how you came to make your way from Los Angeles to Melbourne. Now don’t hang up, I’ll only have to call you back at another time, and I simply cannot stand for that sort of inefficiency. Are we clear?”

Fuck. “I have no idea what you’re taking about. I’ve never—”

“Never been convicted of medical malpractice? Having left the country on the first flight to Bangkok? Harrison, dearie, you can be certain I’ve done my homework here. Now, it would be lovely to know that we are clear on things, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah, we’re clear.” The Aussie accent slipped away, a mashup of California and Texas taking its place. She had him by the balls, whoever she was.

“Wonderful,” the woman who was apparently not Amanda chirped. Chirped! As if she were enjoying the living hell out of all of this!

“To answer your question,” he grumbled, “the answer is yes. I found all of the post-hypnotic triggers and commands. It took weeks to scrub them all out. You’re not in control of her mind anymore.”

“You’ve been riding her yourself then, I take it?”

“I—” It took him a moment to understand the slang. A moment more to decide how to react to it. He chose indignation. “No. I’m not like that. Some of us are professionals, unlike you.”

“You’re not powerful enough to brainwash a girl who doesn’t fancy lads into stirring your pot, dearie. I believe that’s what you meant to say. I’m sure you’ve tried your best.”

“We’re done here, Amanda. Don’t call us again.”

“We’re not quite done here, and if you’d rather the FBI and ASIO not find out about us, you’ll put the phone on speaker and let me talk to her. I trust you’ve got her under?”

“Whatever you need to say to her, you can say to me.”

“Which is entirely the purpose of speakerphone, Harrison. Have you not owned a mobile before? They’re quite handy for things like this. Now! You’ll want to hear me say this, because I can barely believe it myself, but we’re going to get Jessica and her friend… you do know about the friend, Harrison?”

“I do.”

“Have you cleared out her triggers as well?” A pause, then a sigh. “You do know that they’ve both been hypnotized?”

“The friend won’t come in to see me.” He painted the word with contempt. He hated the blonde. Jessica was still on the fence between fucking men or fucking women on the regular, with Phoebe on one side and himself on the other. Half of every session was spent tugging her back in his direction. “She hates being hypnotized. Got really embarrassed once when she was under and now she won’t go near it.” A thought occurred to him. “If you have those triggers of hers, though, I could—“

Not-Amanda laughed at that, the shrillness of it blasting across two oceans and rattling him hard enough to spill his whiskey. “Oh, I know very well what a scut like you would do with them, dearie! That’s not my business today. Today’s business is… are you there, Harrison?”

He finished the whiskey in one long gulp. “Yes,” he replied, coughing out the word. “I’m… sorry, drink went down wrong.”

“Well, if that’s the worst thing that happens to you today, we’ll both be ace as tits. Now place the phone between the two of you so we can begin.”

He thought, briefly, about hanging up. Of grinding Jessica’s phone beneath his boot. Of taking the brunette, still in trance, down to the garage and his car. He’d heard rumors of a “scientist” working out of Bankstown, one of those entrepreneurial folks who had turned their garage into a brainwashing lab. A few days in the chair—assuming there was one—and Jessica would forget all about Phoebe. And Amanda. And everything else.

But the LAPD hadn’t forgotten about Harrison Tooley. Or Christine Redford. Or the maid, whatever her name was. And the woman on the other end of the line had everything she needed to set up a reunion.

Like Christine Redford, like Jessica, he did as he was told.

“Jessica, you will listen to the voice on the phone. You will listen to it and hear it as my voice, and obey it as my voice.”

“I will always obey the sound of your voice,” she mumbled. “Only your voice.”

“Wonderful!” Not-Amanda’s speakerphone-scratched voice echoed slightly. “Jessica, there is something very important you must do for me. You simply must, dearie…”