The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I have an interesting tale to tell you all. It is a tale of creating the perfect man, one that will never leave or disobey, one whose body is perfectly to your liking, one that was…well, perfect. But to tell that story, I need a different place. This apartment is too…ordinary.

Oh yes, I have my trophies lining the shelves, and my dozen or so friends and partners that I have on speed-dial, but I need a place. Somewhere where you’d never be recognized or seen again without an eidetic memory.

A rock concert? No, too loud, but nice try.

A Bank? Interesting…remind me to tell you about that one later.

Oh ho! There we are – a park. Did you have a specific park in mind?

There’s one I grew up in. Kinder Park.

Alright, Kinder Park it is. Come, let us move to the living room. Yes, you may bring your drinks with you, and please don’t hesitate to smoke if you so wish.

Sir, we are grateful for this experience…to learn from one who has so much to show for it.

I am flattered you think of me so, but know this – I am not, nor have I ever, done this professionally. It all sort of came to me over time, like water wearing a rock down to see the jewel underneath.

So, tell me about this Kinder Park, if you wouldn’t mind.

Well, it’s been about 12 years since I was last there. As a kid, mind you, it was one of those places that was magical in its own right. A climbing jungle gym, a sandbox, wide field of grass to run in, swingset and slide – a normal kids playground.

What was so memorable about it then? To you, perhaps it was something special? Your first kiss, your first outdoor shag…out with it man! Hahaha!

No, no. Nothing like that. My first kiss was with a stacked brunette at one of Janine’s lectures at about 14, and outdoor sex about a month afterwards with the same woman. That was before I learned about the Disenchantment routine.

Very well, very well. Alright then, this story shall take place in a child’s Park, with…quick, a name. Very good, Barbara, whose name shall be forevermore Barb, for simplicity’s sake. I’m going to tell this story from a heterosexual man’s perspective because, as much as I love men, I don’t love men.

Alright, so: you start the date normally, with a movie or dinner or dancing. Then when you are on your way back to her place, suggest a small walk around the park where you grew up. She’ll think it lovely, especially if it is a warm summer night and there are no street thugs around.

Then, when you are comfortably at peace, you turn to her and get her to sit on a bench as you recount exploits of your days as a child there. You can be fantastical or imaginary, just be precise, don’t lose sight of the overall picture, and for god’s sake make it believable! Too many times I’ve seen practitioners lose clients because they cannot do a good enough job of an induction.

After the reminiscing, turn to Barb and ask her,

“Did I ever tell you the story of when I was six in this Park?”

She will, most likely, say no. She should be charmed by your heartfelt words of longing for childhood, for your youthful innocence before this world has made you cold and domineering. But she’ll never know, and that’s where this story comes into play.

“Well,” you say. “It was a summer night” or any night, if you so choose. “Much like this one, except that at the time I was learning how to ride a bike for the first time. Oh you should have seen it! I was there on that gravel path with my father right behind me, chasing me down time and again as I tried to be a racecar.”

Yes, if there is no gravel path, say they’ve covered it with grass and keep going. Don’t let her stop and think about any one thing for too long.

“I was just getting the hang of it when some friends of mine showed me a really fun trick to do on the bike. What you did was instead of looking ahead, your eyes unfocussed on everything around you, you’d stare at the ground. It was exhilarating, watching the gravel and grass and sidewalk stone whoosh by so quickly!

“It was so much fun,” you keep going, taking the time to set up the premise and get ready to show the scar you have. You all have your scars, I assume? Good. Anyway,

“It was so much fun, watching it all fly by that I kept staring, my mind completely whirling around and the grass and gravel and sidewalk blurring faster and faster until I, accidentally hit a rock and fell off my bike. That’s when I got this.” You show her the scar then, and it clicks into her mind. You want to give her information about yourself, but keep moving, don’t stop telling the story!

“So, after I picked myself up and my Dad took the pain away, I started doing it again, and again. Each time I would race on down the sidewalk or the gravel path or the grassy park, I would stare at the ground flying below me. It was like watching a sea of green or grey, with its waves and crests forming and spilling about endlessly, a peaceful chaos of pure energy.

“But the best part? The best part was flying through the air after you’d hit a bump, that exhilaration of being completely free and open, ready to take on anything that life threw at you, ready for the cuts and bumps and bruises but wanting even more to feel that way again.”

She’ll admire you, your audacity and maybe your silliness for wanting to do that. Make sure that you still have about four turns to make on the car ride home. You’ll see why in a moment. You’ll get into the car, and as you start up, make sure to turn off the radio, keep it quieter. This works better after sundown, as there will be fewer children yelling and screaming to break the mood.

After the first turn, you’ll drive with one hand, the other making gestures to capture her attention at first. You say

“Man, that rush! I can still feel it, pulsing through my veins as I flew through the air. Maybe I’m embellishing a little, but you have to admit, there’s nothing like that heart-wrenching fear of falling, that excited anticipation of doing something you’ve never thought possible.

“I sometimes wonder what it would look like to have a car that let me watch the road fly by, to watch the white strips turn into a quick morse code of sorts with its long and short and filled and broken dashes and dots and turns. To suddenly make a quick stop and fly forward with enough momentum to carry me up, up high into the sky and look down and feel like I was really flying.”

You can stop there, if you want, so as not to scare her. But then you’ll have to do a second date, which can easily mess you up unless you prefer to take it slow, and build up to the moment of undeniable climax.

We are all men who want everything immediately, sir.

Haha, yes I suppose we are. Well then, put your animatedly excited hand down on the dashboard, and leave it there, taking the straightest route you know that has the least traffic and the highest speed limit. A major highway works wonders.

“I can see it now,” you say again. “All I’d need to do is close my eyes and I can feel it. The wind rushing through my hair,” and you slowly lower her window just so to get the wind entering the car to make her hair billow. “The heat on my legs,” you continue, turning the heat on so she can feel her legs warming up.

“Then all I’d need to do is find that one bump, that one hill that would make me feel all better, that would lift me up this earth and into the closest thing to heaven.”

Here’s the trickiest part. You need to make a turn without – without, I implore you – losing any momentum. The rush of the car will make the turn harder, but there will be a slight jump as she start to realize that these things are happening to her. The wind will make her eyes water slightly as the hair blows into her eyes, and her legs will start to become uncomfortably warm. You can use both hands if you need to, to make the turn, but immediately place it back on the dashboard.

“Just like that,” you keep going, speeding up a little more. “It was so refreshing, to take that bike and just let loose, to let go, to be completely free. I do wish I could watch the road flying by beneath my hands and feet again.”

Now you can take your hand off the dashboard, and put it slowly onto the gear shift. Her eyes will momentarily follow and you need to point almost immediately to grab her attention again.

“It’s like, if I was peddling, I’d be able to see the ground just fly under me, under this very car, to see it rush past in a blur of black and grey and white, to focus on nothing else but the lines and the road and the colors. I can imagine it now, closing my eyes, seeing it in my mind.”

She will, subconsciously, start to follow those directions. Because of your conviction of telling the story, she will be lost in her own mind’s eye.

“It rushes past, line, line, line, line! Then Thick Line, dash, thick line, dash, line, line, line! The faster it goes, linelineline, dashdashdash, thickthickthick. Faster and faster, the ground rushing towards you until you know you’re going to hit the bump and then –”

And you need to make your second turn then, to a side road preferably where there will never be anyone around.

“Whoosh, just like that! I can still feel that exhilarating rush, the feeling of being completely strong and empowered and at peace, to be my own person and not what someone wants me to be. To submit – not me! I’m the best person alive, the smartest, the bravest, the coolest! I can be whatever I want to be. And then I’d come down and hit the ground, and all that went away.”

As soon as you start talking about hitting the ground, suddenly stop and turn for the third time onto another road. It will need to be jarring enough for her to feel it, but not enough for her to wake up and break the spell you’re weaving.

Start driving again, slowly picking up speed.

“Then I’d get back up, and start pedaling again, to try and go faster this time, higher this time, stay better longer! I’d be king of the world this time! But try as I might I just couldn’t do it – my legs were too tired, I was slowing down,” here you need to slow down of course. “It was almost impossible, getting back to that place of freedom. I was resigned to being down and dirty, to be unable to break free of my bonds.”

There are a multitude of ways to finish up now. You can continue the induction and get her going under deeper, or keep the story going for the same effect, or finish near her house where you can leave a posthypnotic suggestion to call or fuck or whatever you want. Me, I have my own way.

Tell us, please!

Hmm…Alright. Just this once. More wine, beer? Chips? Okay, so what I do is I keep driving, slowly losing speed, about a mile every minute or so. I drop my hand from the gear shift and let it hover over her left leg.

“The thing is, I could always do that again after that one time. I would always just let people do whatever they wanted, whether it be a hard workload or a simple hand on the leg,” and then you can rest it down gently, lightly. “Knowing that, no matter what they did, I’d be able to get free of it again, if only for a moment.”

“One time for example my boss made a move on me. He started to caress my leg inappropriately during a business meeting, but because I was new there, I couldn’t stop him for fear of losing my job.”

And now, you see, we’ve moved from induction to a situational experience where she will fall under the sway of your words.

“He started just leaving his hand on my thigh, but I felt it creep closer to my crotch. As he did, for reason I don’t know my legs widened, letting him in deeper and closer to my private areas. He never touched me there, but he came tantalizingly close, driving me slowly crazy as his hands were going everywhere but where I secretly wanted him to.

“I was getting very aroused then, of course. I lay down further to spread my legs wider, and his hand pounced, driving right onto my crotch, rubbing and probing and excitedly playing. I didn’t want to admit it to anyone, but I was getting horny, and very quickly. It was getting hot in that room (don’t forget, the heat has been on this entire time) and seeing as how others were taking off their jackets and loosening their ties, I didn’t feel nearly so bad undoing some of my clothing.

“The meeting finished but my boss’ hand stayed busy while he was working steadily on something else. I was starting to squirm, needing release, but he didn’t let up, digging fingers in and seeing just how far I could take this. When the others finally left the boardroom he slowly wheeled himself closer and dug his hand down my waistband, into my pants, below my underwear, feeling my crotch for real, but still slowly rubbing, gently and easily.

“It was getting so hot in that boardroom, and the lights were off, everyone gone for the day – no one was going to see us. He undid my pants and lowered my zipper, and I took my pants down to my knees, underwear too. He now had full access to my body and as one played diligently on my lower half his other would creep around to play with my chest, pinching my nipples.

“The shirt was in the way, so I removed it. The undershirt was now in the way – I took that off too. (You can substitute bra for undershirt, but it makes it less believable that a man wears a bra.) His fingers danced across my body, making me obey his every whim. I started to gasp as my orgasm approached, and I let loose into his hand.

“He wiped it off on my chest, and then left me alone. I quickly came to my senses and dressed myself, embarrassed but relieved that I was alone. I tried to stand but the clothes were stuck to the chair somewhere and I couldn’t move. Instead I closed my eyes tight, let my mind wander back to that park, to feeling the wind through my hair, the heat on my legs, and then the flying, soaring majestically, laughing as all my pains and fears and humiliation retreated from me.

“But I always came down again, and they always caught up to me, berated me further, hampered me more. I always flew up, but whenever I came down I was even more subjected to visions of him subjecting me to his will.

“I did this ten times, each time the feeling of being his toy to play with, his living Doll, went away but came back stronger than before. I began to lose track of the time, trying desperately to fly away and start over, but those feelings dragged me back down, held me closer to them, enveloping me.

“I tried one last time, and I was flying high, higher than ever before, seeing the park in miniscule but those feelings were right below me, reaching up. They grabbed for me and missed, and I was elated! I had finally eluded them – but only for the moment. I was starting to fall and they cushioned my fall to the ground, surrounding me and holding me safe. I hit the ground but only they took the pain; I was fine. I felt better, now that I had my fears and insecurities surrounding me, keeping me safe from all harm.

“I got up from the chair and left the office a new person. It seemed almost immediately but the next day was ending and I was back in the chair, and the boss was again playing with my body. But this time it was alright, this time it was different. I wanted this to happen – it meant more cushioning, more padding for me to lean on if I ever fell again.

“My pants were completely off and so was my shirt, and I was gently rubbing his crotch in return, circling his dick as I felt my body go numb with comfort and pleasure. He unzipped his pants and there sprang out a glorious cock, better than any I’d ever seen before. I touched it and swooned – it was so perfectly devilish, so evil that it was bound to be the best pillow ever.

“I laid my head down upon it and kissed it as if to thank it for letting me use it. I let it enter my mouth and claim that part of me as its own as it sprayed its dirty seed into me. I swallowed, letting it claim my internal organs as well. He left after that and I was stuck to my seat again, unable to move but this time I didn’t want to get out so badly.

“I dreamt again of flying away, each time getting higher, each time being caught and delivered safely into those cushions before hitting the ground, the padding getting better. I was going up, and down, up and down. Each time they caught me, and I loved being pulled down more than I did flying away from those feelings.

“On my tenth time up I managed to be completely free of them, but instead of excitement I felt fear. What if they didn’t catch me? What if I fell and broke my leg or back and they didn’t want me anymore? I gasped for help and it appeared below me. My feelings were larger, more prominent, now a huge cushion of security for me to fall into, to be brought safely to the ground.

“I was pulled inside of them again, and I felt better than I had in years, even while flying. It was just so warm and safe and perfect. Time passed like it did before and my boss had me on his lap, letting me take his cock into him again, feeling his thick meat in my ass, as he claimed me again, claimed that part of me. He stood and I slid to the floor on my knees, but he didn’t leave, and instead jerked off to me, letting his cum spray my hands and arms and chest and legs. They all belonged to him now, and my feelings of being used were so great right then that I thanked him, begged him for more. He merely smiled and said that tomorrow I would be his completely.

“He left and I thought hard, harder than ever before about flying away and being caught. Up into the air and that momentary panic until I was caught, lowered down softly and elegantly, cushioned and soft and safe until I would fly up again, only to be gently and lovingly brought down.

“Once more on my tenth ride I knew that this would be my one last chance to completely break free. I rode hard, harder than ever before, going so fast that I outraced my feelings to the top of the hill. I raced so fast that I was flying high into the clouds, then above them. The sun on my face was hot, the air was cool, the feeling of being free so refreshing that I didn’t panic at all. Then I ran into a cloud and I was wet; a storm was brewing below me, and I tried to dodge but I fell into it. I was scared, scared because now I knew that I was going to die, without my trusted feelings there to protect me.

“I fell down faster and faster, my clothes being ripped off by unseen hands of wind and rain, my body cold and frightened and alone, falling towards my death. But there, on the surface were my feelings looking for me. They couldn’t see me yet, but I could see them. I tried to yell but my voice locked. I tried to wave but I was too cold that I couldn’t move.

“But then, a ray of light shone down above me, straight down to where a man was standing calm and smiling, waiting for me. It was my Dad; my boss; my savior. He was going to catch me, to keep me safe and warm and happy for all time. My feelings of shame and lust and exhibitionism and fear all merged below him, lifting him up, up, up and I raced towards him, happier than I have ever been before, and he caught me. We sank into my despair; down past my fear; down through mistrust and then through the shackles of freedom that wanted to keep me flying. We fell through everything bad and landed softly on lust and love. I lusted after this man, and I loved this man. He was everything I wanted, and needed.

“He raised my head to his and looked me in the eyes. I whispered ‘I’m yours, forever’ and he nodded, smiling. He lowered his pants, and I thankfully took him in my mouth. I opened my body to him again like the last two times. But this time when he came, he pushed me onto my back and sprayed both my crotch and my head, and I felt them finally submit to him. I was finally, perfectly, happy.”

You see Samantha, it never takes me long to get them under. Once I get going with the story and stop interspersing with comments, they all eventually submit. It could be as early as the induction, or as late as the boardroom meetings, but they always go under, and they’re always perfectly happy to comply to my every wish. Exactly like you are now. Oh good, the next group is here. I’m sorry but you’ll have to wait in the Guest room again until they are done.

You know I can’t resist those eyes of yours. Or those tits. Mmm. Yes, I love it when you pinch your nipples around my cock. I’ll make up some excuse and join you in a minute. I have to go greet these guests. The Reconstruction always needs new recruits.