The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

We snuggled close to one another, I on my back, she on her side. Her arm over my chest, mine around her, our legs intertwined, obliterating any possible gap or cranny between our bodies. We’d just cooled off from a protracted bout of lovemaking, and she pulled the sheet over us to ward off the hotel room air that had been unbearably hot just a few minutes ago.

She laid her thick, dark auburn hair back onto my shoulder, and I ran the fingers of my free hand through it, then caressed her cheek. Minutes passed as we soaked in the pleasure of one another’s company. We only saw each other a couple of times a year; this was the second of our three nights together, at a big industry convention.

“Tomorrow night...” She began, then paused.

“Tomorrow night, I’d like to try some of those hypnoerotic fantasies—those things we talked about on the phone.”

My heart gave a little leap and I felt a small stirring in my loins, even though we’d just exhausted one another. We’d been lovers for years, and over that time we’d slowly intertwined hypnosis into some of our lovemaking. Sometimes we were fantasy lovers—a fairy tale princess and her dark knight. Sometimes a powerful, summoning force drew her inexorably to me. Sometimes I used the trance to focus and amplify her perceptions, until her body, already hair-trigger sensitive, was a beautiful instrument on which I played a passionate, penetrating melody.

“I love the places your voice takes me,” she’d said. She liked it when I talked to her when we made love, told her all the things I was doing to her, told her how beautiful she was, how much pleasure she gave me, how I thrilled to the aesthetic and erotic pleasures of her lips, her breasts, her legs, her hungry vagina. The trance only made my words more powerful, her pleasure deeper, our mutual enjoyment all the greater.

For my own part, I loved thinking up hypnoerotic fantasies for us to share. They sometimes came to me in dreams, and she was as eager a listener as I was a teller when I recounted them. Needless to say, I loved hypnotizing her, too. Watching her relax, deeper and deeper, all tension disappearing from her face, was a great pleasure for me. Hypnotizing her was an erotic experience, not in and of itself, but because of the permission she gave me to bring my voice, my words, into her most sensitive erogenous zone, her mind. The intimacy of the trance, the closeness, the connection, were all part of it, but potentiated by our long relationship and the hot lovemaking that went with it.

We had a room service breakfast the next morning. It was a well-appointed suite, complete with a big-screen TV, VCR, and a stereo system with a CD changer. We were dressed and ready for the day—I had a full day of meetings, starting in a little while, where I was going to be demonstrating Excalibur, the code name for my newest project, to prospective clients. We chatted, finished our food, and I knelt by the entertainment unit to remove the CDs from the changer.

As I was inserting them back into their sleeves, I heard her pad across the carpet. Suddenly, she bent down and kissed the back of my neck. My back arched with pleasure—and goose bumps—as the thrill of her kiss went through me. I leaned back into her perfume, her hair, her soft skin. She kissed me again as she ran her hands from my shoulders to my chest, sinking gracefully to her knees. Her fragrance and her close proximity caused a familiar stirring in me.

One hand continued to slide downward, following my shirt, right into my pants. She closed her fingers lightly on my newly minted erection. Her fingers moved gently on the sides of my cock, my pulse beating a steady rhythm against her palm. I made appreciative mmmmm sounds, and turned my head, eyes closed in pleasure, to kiss her.

She dodged my kiss and instead brought her lips close to my ear.

“What I’m doing to you feels so good. It feels so wonderful, you just want it to go on and on,” she said, in a voice that could only be described as hypnotic.

No argument there; it felt wonderful. But I was surprised on two counts—that she was this bold with me physically and that she was using hypnotic inflections on me. She usually let me take the lead in our lovemaking. And she’d told me several times that hypnotizing me was out of the question.

I’d run the idea past her of taking the dominant role once in a while, but she’d demurred, saying that she wouldn’t know what to say, that she wouldn’t have the confidence. But she clearly had an increasing desire lately. She’d even asked me if I’d planted any posthypnotic suggestions that she wasn’t aware of, but a gentleman never tells, and I refused to confirm or deny any suggestions that would impel her towards trying her hand at a little sexual hypnosis. But I believed that she was surprising herself as much as she was surprising me.

“You’re totally focused on the pleasurable sensations, the deeply pleasurable sensations that I’m giving you. Every part of you is focused on the wonderful feelings.”

She reached a little farther; her ministrations got a little stronger. She had my complete attention. I gasped and closed my eyes.

Her other hand slipped down and undid my belt, the waistband of my pants, and my zipper. Or at least that’s what must have happened, because she kept the soft, sensual flow of suggestions coming, her voice pitched low, quietly compelling. Next thing I knew, my pants were down below my butt and she had the situation firmly in hand.

“My touch is so warm, so compelling. You enjoy it so much; you want it so much.”

Yes and yes. My heart was beating faster, but I was coddled by her words. Then she surprised me again by moving down and gently taking me in her mouth. Her lips and tongue worked tiny bits of magic on me, and I groaned aloud.

She rose up, her hands taking control once again, and she spoke again with soft, compelling, convincing tones.

“Today, when you have your meetings, when you discuss Excalibur... every time you say the word ‘Excalibur’ you’ll find yourself thinking of this moment, of these sensations. Each time you say the word ‘Excalibur’ you’ll think of me, think of me, and a wave of desire will wash over you.”

As if to seal the deal, she bent over me one more time, and sent shivers of pleasure through me.

I was inwardly shaking my head and smiling as I left the hotel, amazed at what an apt pupil I’d created, how she’d instinctively woven a pleasant trance from an intense, focusing pleasure, soft words and phrases, and a sexy suggestion that she knew I’d enjoy. I’d never done anything quite like that to her, but she’d correctly intuited that I would go into her trance and accept her playful suggestion. I was guessing, too, that the experience had been quite a turn-on for her as well. I knew the flirting-with-danger feeling that came from being a novice hypnotist, and the special intimacy that accompanies the mental connection.

Then I plunged into the chaos of the convention, the ringing of my cell phone, the mad dash to get to appointments. She hadn’t given me any suggestions of amnesia, but our little encounter had slipped far into the background by the time I’d gotten to my first meeting.

We sat around a conference table as I set the stage, describing the market, and the opportunities that we saw. I answered a few questions, and then said, “Why don’t I show you the demo? You can see what I’m talking about.”

I stood next to the big-screen PC and grabbed the mouse, which unblanked the screen. As it came up, I said, “This is Excalibur....”

My mouth went dry and I sort of croaked the word out. I had a powerful sensation, more vivid than any memory, of her stroking me. I could smell her perfume in the meeting room. I was surprised, yet not surprised at the vividness of the sensations. Whew, it was going to be a long day.

I pulled myself together and continued. But every time I said “Excalibur” I got a little, distinctly sexual thrill. I already liked this project a lot; this positive reinforcement was icing on the cake.

We both had early-evening commitments. We’d arranged to meet back at the hotel. After my day of little pleasurable stimuli, there would be a reckoning. Oh, would there be a reckoning.

I called her room. She picked up the phone and I said, “Listen to the sound of my voice. Concentrate on the sound of my voice and think of nothing else.” I heard her sighing exhalation as she began to relax. She was used to me hypnotizing her over the phone. Based on our conversations before the convention, she was expecting something like this. I’d even given her a small preview of what was to come.

I relaxed her some more and said, “Imagine yourself a few minutes from now, coming to my room, walking down the hall, each step bringing you closer, each step increasing your anticipation. You feel the powerful bond between us pulling you along, drawing you nearer. You’re already envisioning my welcoming smile, feeling the warmth of our impending embrace.

“With each step you take, you focus on our togetherness and the special energy that fills the room when we’re together. You can see my face in your mind’s eye; you hear my voice in your ear. You focus on the images in your mind, and let my voice carry you along, focusing on my voice, letting the words soak into you like a warm, relaxing shower. You feel the warm, loving tones of my voice in your mind, in your body. It gives you feelings of peace and the growing sensations of pleasure. With each step you take, you relax more, yet your anticipation grows. Each step brings you deeper into relaxation and deeper into arousal.

“As you enter my room, the forces there surprise you with their intensity. The room is suffused with two powerful sensations, seemingly contradictory, but surprisingly compatible. Strong, tangible sexuality, a burning, a craving that comes from both of us. And hypnotic power. An enveloping, embracing trance that again comes from both of us. As you close the door behind you, it becomes even stronger. The sensations in the room are amazing, sending your senses reeling. It’s like being in an oven, except that it’s not hot. Like a refrigerator, but it’s not cold. The feelings seep into your bones, your body, your mind. They dance along every nerve ending. They envelop you. They thrill you.

“As you take a step towards me, you feel my nearness and the sensations grow stronger. A growing arousal and a building, enveloping trance. The two feelings grow stronger and they impel you to take the next step. Closer and closer, deeper and deeper, stronger and stronger.

“And that step causes the sensations to grow even stronger. You feel the spreading heat of arousal, the soothing embrace of the trance. The forces combine once again; they guide your foot forward, and you step into greater depths of relaxation, the pure, cocoon-like warmth of the trance. Your desire increases as well, like a conductor urging her bodily orchestra to a swelling fortissimo.

“With each step you take, with each breath you take, you feel the twin forces getting stronger, ever stronger, deeper, ever deeper. Ever stronger, ever deeper.

“Until finally you stand before me, mere inches away, in the wonderfully powerful paradox of deep arousal and deep trance. You’re utterly focused on the forces that root you to the spot and implore you to go onward. You feel as if my fingers are touching you in a thousand sensitive places, and you feel them rubbing your temples, stroking your hair, relaxing you. My voice whispers words of love and passion in one ear, words of hypnotic relaxation and pleasure in the other. You feel the deep pleasure of being in this loving, embracing trance and the maddening desire, both wonderful feelings, side by side, utterly enveloping you.

“There you are, entranced and aroused, hypnotized and impassioned, swirling in the dizzying contrasts of the two powerful forces. Part of you calmly waits; part of you eagerly anticipates what comes next, as I approach you, closing the final gap between us.

“See all of this happening in your mind’s eye. Realize how much you want it to happen, this relaxing, enrapturing journey into my arms. It’s time now, time to begin, time to come to me.”

I heard the click as she replaced the receiver.

I opened my door and left it just slightly ajar, resting on the latch, so she wouldn’t have to knock or use her key. I returned to the desk and sat, facing the door.

I was almost beside myself with expectation. I flashed back on all those little erotic jabs I’d been getting all day, and my cock was beginning to feel like Excalibur. I was stimulated, too, by the intimacy of hypnotizing her on the phone. I saw her in my mind’s eye from the time she put the receiver down, feeling trancey as she headed out the door, feeling aroused at the thought of the hot lovemaking that would surely come at the end of her journey, the feelings getting stronger with every step.

When she came through the door her eyes had that half-lidded look of deep arousal and the unfocused look of trance. She crossed the room in measured steps, and I rose to meet her. Her lips were incredibly soft and yielding when I kissed her, and she moaned with pleasure. I kissed and caressed her and murmured quiet words of deepening trance and deepening passion. Her eyes closed as she stood there, swaying slightly.

I picked her up to carry her to the bedroom, and felt her stiffen somewhat. I recalled that she didn’t like to be picked up, that it made her feel heavy and awkward, even though neither could be further from the truth. “Light as a feather, light as a feather,” I intoned. She relaxed more when I sat on the edge of the bed, with her in my lap. I kissed her deeply and she responded with ardor, making a small pleasure sound.

I set about undressing her as slowly as possible. In retrospect, it probably wasn’t all that slow, but I did my best to stretch it out. She loved for me to take my time, to make it as slow and sensual as possible. I managed to shed my clothes at the same time, and I laid her crosswise on the king-sized bed. I gazed hungrily and lovingly at her, wishing I could photograph the casual, yet compellingly sexy way her body had arranged itself on the white sheets. Her long, dark hair framed her face and cascaded around her shoulders, offsetting her pale skin, blushing a pretty, pre-orgasmic pink on her cheeks, her throat, and across her breasts.

I felt like, and doubtless was, the luckiest man in the world as I drank in her beauty, from her classic face to her slender neck, delicate collarbones, slim arms and hands, a waistline that any number of women would kill for, flaring, feminine hips, legs tapering to dainty feet. Her generous, incredibly soft breasts had settled into twin pools with rosy-pale nipples floating on the surface. Her eyes opened slightly and locked on mine. The brilliant blue of her irises was all but masked by her wide pupils and her shuttered lids. They said one thing: lust, lust, lust.

I stroked her head gently, saying, “My touch will mesmerize you and take you deeper, much deeper.”

As I moved down across her shoulders to her arms, her eyes closed and she became visibly more relaxed. An arm that had rested half-across her body slipped to her side and fell to the sheets. Her breast shimmered in response to the movement, and I saw her nipple tighten, a clear sign of the deep relaxation and deep arousal she was experiencing. She was all rounded curves and hypnotic softness, and my desire for her rose to impossible heights. I’d planned to stroke her body all the way down to her feet, and then work deliciously upwards to her womanhood, the perfect calm before the perfect storm.

I never made it.

I repositioned one of her legs slightly, knelt between them. She was more than wet, more than warm, more than ready. I plunged into her, and she came on the first thrust. The act of first entering her was very sexy, very important, even symbolic to her, and she derived a special, indescribable pleasure from it.

Energy flowed into her body and her arms moved up and across my back. We made love in perfect rhythm. Her voice rose to a sweet soprano note as another orgasm rolled through her body. Like chocolate, there is no such thing as a bad orgasm. Hers were intense, multiple. But she had a transcendent, tantric level that I could sometimes take her to, and hold her there, for several minutes, until she was exhausted or until her passion caught me up and swept me along into my orgasm.

She was there. Emotions—passion, joy, abandon, lust—swept across her face as she clutched convulsively at me, as she drew me even deeper inside her. She called out to the heavens, transported to another level, lost in ecstatic bliss. It was all finally too much for me, as I felt the impending storm build and build, and I was thrusting hard, harder, my hands moving down to her bottom, first cradling, then clutching, then convulsing as I came. Unimaginably, she found an even higher level and met my intensity head on.

For that moment, we were everything that is male and everything that is female, conjoined, merged, blended.

We collapsed together, sweating, speechless, sated. She finally gathered her breath well enough to tell me, “It was one of those.” I knew, of course, and was filled with joy. She was out of the trance state now, but we were in a different, mutual rapport, content to just hold one another and revel in the mental and physical intimacy.

Her crafty, physical entrancing of me seemed like it had happened in another century rather than earlier in this same day. Did I plant suggestions that caused or encouraged her bold, lusty behavior? She wasn’t amenable to hypnotic amnesia, but had I slipped a disguise trance and some suggestions under her radar? I’d admitted to doing that on one occasion, could I have done it another time? She’s curious, still puzzled, still disbelieving her own actions.

She’ll never know, at least not from reading this.