The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Jennie was my first lover. She was a high school senior when I was a college freshman. We started dating after her family moved into the neighborhood. Jennie was instantly popular. She wasn’t the most beautiful girl, although she was pretty enough. But everyone, me included, was attracted to her vivacious energy. She was always fun to be around, wanting to do things, try new stuff. I can still see her lively eyes, untamed mane of curly brown hair, freckles, and ready smile.

She invited me to her senior prom. Afterwards, along with two other couples, we drove to my parents’ beach house, a modest little cottage near the bay, with a boat tied up at the dock in the back yard. Making love after the prom seemed like a rite of passage, something that it was time to do. One couple wound up on the boat, another in my parents’ bedroom, Jennie and I in mine.

We lost our virginity to one another in the usual way, with fumbling and uncertainty. I came. She didn’t, despite her energetic participation. We got a little better at it over time, although we didn’t get all that many chances to be alone together. She approached sex with the same enthusiasm she showed for everything else, but I had a feeling that she also carried a burden of guilt from her strict upbringing, which serioulsy interfered with her pleasure.

We spent a lot of time together that summer. One evening, she came to my house while my parents were out to dinner. We made out for a while, listened to records in my room, sang together while I played my guitar. She perused my bookshelves while I continued to play. She came across the Leslie LeCron book on self-hypnosis and one of my flea market treasures, a hypnosis manual by science fiction writer A. E. Van Vogt. She knew that I did self-hypnosis because I’d mentioned it in a conversation early in our relationship, but she hadn’t risen to the bait and I chose not to pursue it.

She pulled the LeCron book from the shelf, looking at the colorful, op-art cover and the self-help blurbs on the back.

“Does this stuff really work?”

“Absolutely! It’s a great way to relax, to focus when you need to, and to put things that are bugging you out of your mind.”

“But how does it work? How do you do it?”

“It’s all based on imagery and imagination. For instance, if I say, ‘You feel tired’ and you do feel tired, it’s not because I said it, but because you heard the word ‘tired’ and you know what it feels like to be tired. So you imagine what ‘tired’ feels like and you actually become tired. And as you become tired and relaxed, you just naturally become more suggestible.”

She blinked a couple of times. “But what about stage hypnotists—Don’t they make people do things against their will?”

“No, not really, although it looks that way, and it can even feel that way when you’re carrying out a suggestion. But think of it in terms of harnessing your imagination, building the desire to do something you want to do rather than trying to force somebody to do something that they don’t want to do.”

She chewed on that thought for a moment, clearly intrigued. “Hmm. But what’s the difference between self-hypnosis and hypnosis?”

“No difference at all. Whether I say ‘tired’ or you say ‘tired’ to yourself, the result is the same. Here, I’ll show you.” She looked a little startled.

“It’s OK, just stand over here with your back to me. I’m going to put my hands right behind your shoulder blades.” I touched her shoulder blades lightly, then placed the palms of my hands behind them. “Now close your eyes as you imagine that in the palms of my hands are powerful magnets, powerful magnets that will pull you backwards, pull you backwards, but it’s OK because my hands are right here to catch you.”

She began to sway a little, and I continued, “Imagine that the pull from the magnets is getting stronger, much stronger, very strong now, stronger and stronger, pulling you, pulling you backwards, right off balance, but my hands are here to catch you.”

She was leaning back, swaying, losing balance, catching herself, as I said, “The pull is getting much stronger now, pulling you right back off balance,” and she let out a little Oh! of surprise as she finally lost balance and I caught her. She opened her eyes and turned towards me with a sheepish grin.

“That was great,” I said, setting her back upright. “Now tell me, what did you feel?”

“I felt a pull, a pulling sensation....”

“Uh-huh, and where did the pull come from?”

“Your hands.”

“Nope.”

She looked puzzled for a moment, then brightened, “No, from my mind! The pull came from my mind!”

“Absolutely right! and now we’re going to do the same thing again, only this time I’m going to put my hands behind your shoulder blades, but I’m not going to say a thing. You give the suggestion to yourself, and I’ll catch you as you fall back.” I turned her by her shoulders as I was saying this, and she looked back dubiously.

“I’m not so sure this is going to work,” she said.

“I’ll just catch you as you fall back. You’ll do fine,” I smiled.

“Here goes,” she said, as she faced away from me. Moments later, she was leaning against my hands.

“I did it!” she exclaimed. “I felt the pull! Wow, that’s great! Show me more!”

By this time my crotch was throbbing, but I did my best to hide my condition and my excitement. “Congratulations,” I said. “You just hypnotized yourself.”

She looked a little dazed, but pleased with herself, as I continued. “OK, here’s an example of imagination vs. willpower. I sat her down in my desk chair and pulled over a footstool. We sat knee to knee. “Clasp your hands together like this,” and I showed her with my own hands. I held her gaze with mine. “Clasp them tightly together, tightly. Feel how each finger is pressing firmly into the back of your opposite hand. Clasp them tightly, so tightly that they’re beginning to feel like they’re locked together, fused together. So tight that they’re fused together, inseparable. Concentrate on how they’re locked, fused together.”

She continued to gaze into my eyes, and she’d lost focus, already in a mild trance. “When I count to three, your hands will be locked together and you’ll be unable to separate them. One, two, three! They’re locked together. You can try to separate them, but the more you try, the more tightly they’ll become locked together. You can try now.”

She blinked and looked down at her hands, breaking some of the rapport. She gave an experimental pull, and looked up at me in shock and surprise as her hands remained clasped. She tugged harder. She was a strong, athletic girl and I could see the muscles standing out on her forearms. She tried twice more, then looked back at me. Her pupils had dilated again as her eyes met mine, and she said, “They’re stuck.”

“I’m going to count to three and touch your hands now, and they’ll become normal in every way and you’ll be able to separate them,” I said. She looked at me in mild wonder as I counted and touched them lightly.

Her fingers uncurled slowly and she separated her hands without breaking her gaze. “They’re apart,” she said with a bit of distance in her voice. I took her hands and guided them to her knees. She continued to stare into my eyes.

“Now I want you to imagine that there’s a bouquet of helium balloons tied to your left wrist. Imagine what that would feel like, what it would look like to have all those colorful balloons tied to your wrist, all those balloons pulling upwards, wanting to lift your hand right off your lap.” I held her gaze, but in my peripheral vision saw her left hand twitch. Now imagine that I’m doubling the number of balloons. When I touch your right hand, the number of balloons tied to your left wrist will double.”

I touched her hand and her left hand twitched again, the wrist rising slightly. “The pull of the balloons is getting very strong now, so strong that it wants to lift your arm right up into the air. Think of how nice that would feel, all those pretty balloons lifting your arm into the air.”

Before I could suggest another doubling, her arm twitched again and floated gently into the air. Although her eyes were still fixed on mine, her eyebrows arched just a little in surprise.

“That’s right,” I said. “Higher and higher, floating gently, held by the balloons. It feels very nice, doesn’t it?” She nodded mutely. “And now, I want you to imagine that the balloons are slipping free of your wrist, one by one, flying away. As each balloon comes free, your arm sinks down, becomes a little heavier. And as each balloon flies away, you become more relaxed, and a wonderful, sleepy feeling comes over you.”

Her arm began to sink and her eyelids began to flutter. I knew that I was going a lot slower than I had to, that as soon as I’d seen how suggestible she was, I could have turned either of the “susceptibility tests” into a deep trance. But she seemed to be enjoying this “pretty” induction, and so was I.

“Your eyes are tired, tired and heavy, beginning to close, wanting to close. As your arm sinks down towards your lap, you go deeper and deeper into a wonderful, relaxing sleep. Every muscle of your body is relaxing, your mind is relaxing, and you’re concentrating on the sound of my voice.” Her arm floated down slowly as her eyes closed, then her head slumped forward as her arm touched her lap and became limp.

She looked lovely in deep repose, and I took a few moments to study her, although I had to bend down a bit to see her face through the hair that had fallen forward. Her chest was rising and falling slowly, her small, perky breasts pressing lightly against her blouse, then hiding again. Her long, dark lashes rested on her cheeks, and her lips looked fuller and softer than normal.

The mere sight of her made me throb with desire, and it got stronger as I continued to deepen her trance. I suggested a number of relaxing scenarios and watched her eyes move under her lids. I gave her a few of the usual “demo” suggestions, then brought her out of the trance because I knew my parents would be home soon, and that they would frown upon my entertaining Jennie in my bedroom.

As I gave her the standard suggestions for renewed energy and good feelings, she opened her eyes, straightened a bit, blinked once or twice, then gave me a big grin. “Wow, that was great! I feel terrific, good all over!” She gave a big, catlike stretch and stood up. I stood too, and she flowed into my arms and gave me a languorous hug. She felt my hardness against her belly and drew back with a somewhat surprised grin and an arch look. “Whoa, what’s with Mr. Friendly?”

“You just turn me on,” I answered, leaving out volumes of hypnoerotic fantasies that she probably would have thought perverted. “But we’d better go downstairs now.”

She nodded, and we went down to the kitchen. We obliterated half a box of cookies and a couple of glasses of milk (Were we wholesome kids, or what?) as she confirmed that she loved the feeling of being in hypnosis and that she couldn’t remember ever feeling more relaxed. A bemused look came over her face as she dunked another cookie. She looked up and said, “I wonder what it would feel like to make love under hypnosis?”

I half-choked on my cookie and nearly came in my pants at the thought of it. But all I could blurt out was, “What?!”

“You hypnotize me, then make love to me,” she said simply, as an erotic surge went through me that left my knees trembling with anticipation. “I think I’ve been too tense, too nervous, and you could relax me first and help me focus better.”

What a girl! Practical, yet adventuresome. Always ready for something new.

As fate would have it, my parents came home then, so the rest of the conversation was left hanging. We watched TV with my parents for a while, then I walked her home—her house was only a block away. As we kissed goodnight, I told her that I was glad she enjoyed being hypnotized so much, and that we’d have to figure out a time when we could be alone together.

“Thanks,” she said, squeezing my hand. “I’m really grateful.”

Grateful, I thought, my head spinning. My lifelong fantasy, she asks me to do it, and she’s grateful!

A couple of weeks later, she came down to the beach house with me and my parents for the weekend. We hadn’t gotten a chance to do any more hypnosis, but I answered more of her questions, particularly about the difference between hypnosis and sleep. She was a little confused about that. No wonder, considering all the Hollywood stereotypes and my old-fashioned induction, which featured all those drowsy and sleepy terms.

We’d spent the day swimming, sunbathing and surfing. We showered, had dinner with my folks, then headed over to the boardwalk and amusement piers when the sun went down. We hit our favorite amusements—she had a better arm than I did, and could easily knock over those threesomes of fuzzy cats with a well-aimed baseball. She always got a prize because the gaffers never pulled the little strings taut—the ones that prevented the macho guys from getting more than two.

She hung on my arm as we walked in the multicolored, flashing lights and said, “I’m a little tired. Can we head back?” It wasn’t all that late, but we walked back to my dad’s station wagon and drove home. On the way there, I turned off onto a sandy path, two ruts in the rushes and sawgrass, and drove up to the bay, to some lots that were cleared for houses but never built upon because of some environmental impact thing. I parked overlooking the bay. We looked at the distant lights sparkling on the water, and felt the cool salty breeze. We made out for a while. After watching her energetic, athletic body cavorting in the water all day, I was enjoying touching her, caressing her gently. Her firm little breasts responded to my touch, and we kissed deeply.

“So about that sex under hypnosis...” I said tentatively. I knew it was plenty private here, and the back of the wagon was already folded flat, with an air mattress, some foam padding we used for the surfboards, and the big beach blanket.

She looked up at me with obvious interest on her face. “Uh, sure! Oh, but I’m so tired after all the things we did today, I’d probably just fall asleep if you tried to hypnotize me now.”

“Oh, that’s OK,” I replied. “You can rest while you’re in the trance state and later, when you wake up, you’ll have plenty of energy.”

“Well, OK, but don’t blame me if I fall asleep,” she said.

“I won’t. I promise.”

I hadn’t given her a trigger word or phrase for rehypnosis the first time, so I’d have to do another long-form induction. There was no light inside the car, but the moon was slowly rising over the bay, sending a long, reflective beam over the rippling water. I directed her attention to the moon and just started making stuff up.

“As you gaze at the beautiful, rising moon, it draws your attention. As it rises, more and more of your attention is drawn to the moon. It’s very relaxing to look at it, very soothing. Look at the moon, so beautiful, so silent. Feel the power in its silence. As it rises slowly over the water, you’re relaxing more and your eyes are getting heavy....”

She went into a trance quickly, slumped slightly against my shoulder. I continued, “The moon has been an important part of our lives for eons. It’s part of our sexuality. Our bodies dance to its rhythm. As it continues to rise, you feel the moon’s power rising within you, a strong sexual energy, a dominating force that makes you want to express your desires eagerly, completely. You feel the desire building within you, focusing your energy, driving all other thoughts from your mind, as the moon rises, as the feeling, the desire gets stronger and stronger....” My mind was nearly exploding as I tried to piece together a plausible induction and stage-setting, wondered what to do about my raging hard-on, and even how to keep the hypnosis/sleep thing separate, since I didn’t want her to fall asleep.

“And now, as I count from five back to one, you’ll come out of the trance state, feeling the desire, the building desire as the moon continues to rise. Five... moving up through the depths. Four... feeling the desire building.... Three... coming out of the trance state. Two... almost there.... One....

Whereupon I was greeted by a gentle snore. She’d fallen asleep! And I thought for sure she was hypnotized, although I didn’t perform any tests to verify the trance state.

I shook her shoulder gently. “Jennie?”

“Hm? Oh.... See? I told you I would fall asleep!” And she snuggled back against my shoulder and mumbled, “Let’s go home.”

Resigned, I started the car and drove home. My parents were already in bed. She stumbled into the house and with a “G’night” and a quick kiss, went into the bathroom for a few minutes, then into my room. I slept on one of the foam daybeds on the porch when she visited.

I lay on my back, watching the rising moon through the big windows, wondering what had gone wrong. Oh, well, maybe she was just too tired. I fell asleep thinking about it, a hand on my unfulfilled cock.

I sensed more than heard a presence standing next to me. I opened my eyes, trying to orient myself. I heard the night breezes, the water lapping gently against the hull of the boat. I was on the porch, it was the middle of the night, the moon was high in the sky, illuminating the sandy yard. Jennie was standing next to my bed, looking down at me.

“What are you doing?” I whispered.

She leaned over and put an outstretched finger on my lips. She straightened again, not looking at me, but into the distance, into the moonlit yard. She reached for the hem of her cotton nightie, the one with the little blue cornflowers on it, and removed it in a single motion. She stood there for a moment, and I could see her brown nipples, tight and erect in the pale light. I reached up to touch her and she gently pressed my hand away. Then she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her sensible cotton briefs, slipped them down, and stepped out of them.

She pulled back my covers and looked at me appraisingly. She pointed wordlessly to my boxer shorts and I hastily removed them, my hard-on springing free. She reached down and touched me gently, her thumb running lightly on the side and front of my shaft. I moaned a little, and she shot me a look that said, “Be quiet.”

She stretched out on top of me, my shaft against her belly, nuzzling my neck. Then she nipped me on the earlobe, and I suppressed a yelp. She kissed me deeply, then sat up, her hands on my chest. Rotating her hips, she sought me out, moved against me, lubricating me with her wetness. With another deft movement, she took me inside her, deeply. We’d never made love in this position; we’d never done anything but missionary style. The effect was intoxicating, overwhelming.

She pushed down with her hips, and mine naturally rose up to meet her. Her breath escaped in a sharp, soundless “ah!” as I plunged deep inside her. We made fast, furious love, and I heard her breathing getting fast and ragged. Mine was pretty much the same, and the intensity built and built. Then she stopped, and stopped me, too. She made a slow, deliberate move, and I matched her movement. Then another, a little faster, and another, faster still. Soon we were on the edge of orgasm. This was nothing like our previous, amateurish efforts, and it was all her doing. Her fingernails dug into my shoulders and she shuddered along her length as she came with a whispered “Oh! Oh! Oh!

Her intensity triggered me, and we collapsed together, breathing hard, perspiring freely. We lay that way for ten or fifteen minutes, holding each other in silence. Our pulses had finally slowed and the night air was feeling almost chilly on my skin. I’d shrunken and slipped out of her.

Jennie rose in a fluid motion, standing beside the sofa bed, eyes open, but again, not looking at me. She reached down, picked up her panties, and stepped into them. Then she picked up her nightie, slipped it over her head, and it fell into place. She looked at me and touched a finger to my lips again. I didn’t know whether it was another prohibition against speaking or a strange sort of benediction.

Then she walked—gently, slowly, silently—over the cool linoleum floor, back to my room. Her footsteps were soundless, and I couldn’t even hear the door to my room close. I grabbed a tissue, cleaned myself up a little, and pulled on my boxers. Thoughts were stampeding through my mind, as I tried to figure out what had just happened.

I was sure that she was there in response to my hypnotic suggestion, but I didn’t understand the delayed reaction or her insistence on silence (other than the need not to awaken my parents). For the second time that night, I fell asleep thinking about it.

I woke up early, to the rising sun and skirling seagulls. The memory of Jennie’s visit during the night raged in my mind. I was still trying to piece it all together. I went for a quick swim and showered off the salt outside. My dad was an early riser, too, and he was up next. I helped him get the boat ready—he and my mother were going to visit friends of theirs nearby who also had a place on the water.

By the time we were done, Mom was up and working on breakfast. The smell of pancakes and bacon suffused the little cottage, and I heard sounds from the bathroom—Jennie washing up. She had cutoffs and one of my tee shirts over her bathing suit. She looked radiant, with a glow in her cheeks. She gave me a smiling “we’ve got a secret” look, then went to the kitchen to help with breakfast.

Afterwards, my parents headed out on their trip and we agreed to clean up the breakfast dishes. No sooner had their boat gone around the corner of the lagoon leading to the bay than Jennie flowed into my arms, kissing me all over, pressing her body against me.

“Oh, that was wonderful! But it was so strange, too!”

“What do you mean?”

“I was having this dream—at least I thought I was having a dream—and I was a priestess in some kind of a moon cult. I had to perform this ritual....” She blushed, and continued, “... where I had to make love to a man, under the moon. I woke up, but I wasn’t really awake, and I had this burning desire. I just had to have you. I could see from the light outside that the moon was high in the sky, right over the house. I got out of bed in super-slow motion, so it wouldn’t creak, then came to the porch walking very slowly, like I was in a trance....”

My erection surged at her words, and she continued.

“I was in a trance! I was, wasn’t I?”

“Yes, I’m sure you were. But go on, what happened next?” Goofy grin. “I mean, I know what happened next, but tell me what you felt.”

“Well, like I said, I felt this craving, this burning desire, but I had to carry out the dream-ritual in complete silence. I wasn’t allowed to speak, and neither were you. Then I was on top of you, and we.... Oh, it was wonderful! It’s never been like that before! I felt so uninhibited....”

She blushed again, and she looked down. “I, um, I think that was my first orgasm. I’ve never felt anything like that before.” She blushed even more deeply. “Except for the time when you were kissing and sucking my breasts for a really long time, and I got this, this twinge down there, and it shot into my thighs and spread into my belly.... But this was so much stronger.”

She looked into my eyes and held my hands. I knew we’d make love again before the morning was half gone, but first I wanted to figure out how my suggestions had turned out the way they did. She was curious, too, and we pieced together most of what I’d said last night.

My first realization was that I’d given her “permission” to fall asleep and to wake up later, when she had more energy. Then my imagery about the powerful silence of the moon and its ancient influences was all the raw material her subconscious needed to create the priestess image in her mind. Then I’d started her on a path of rising desire as the moon rose, which she extrapolated to maximum desire when the moon was highest in the sky. Which is exactly what happened.

She looked lost in thought for a minute, then shook her head. “You know, when I woke up this morning, I thought it was a fantastic dream, with all those moon images, and I still felt like a priestess or something. But then I could feel the way my underpants were sticking to me, and it was a shock—it was real!”

Then she took me by the hand and started to lead me to my bedroom. “Come on,” she said. “You can hypnotize me again. Let’s see what you can do with the sun!”