The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Jill buzzed Lisa. “Dr. Sorenson, your last patient is here, a Mr. Attwa.”

“Fine Jill, send him in.” Lisa adjusted the pillow she had placed on her chair. What is wrong with me, am I getting hemorrhoids?

A dark, middle aged man opened the door and stepped inside. He removed his sunglasses, although his eyes remained dark and hidden.

“Mr. Attwa I presume. Hello, I’m Dr. Sorenson, please have a seat and make yourself comfortable.”

Mr. Attwa took the offered seat and looked up at the good doctor. She was oblivious and this fact brought a smile to his face.

Dr. Sorenson sensed something amiss. Why is this patient staring at me with a smirk on his face? “Sir, are you alright?”

“I am most excellent, thank you. I decided to keep today’s appointment in order to see you one last time, before your mission.”

An alarm went off in Dr. Sorenson’s head. Her instincts told her this was a potentially dangerous situation. She slipped her hand under her desk where a panic button resided. If necessary she could press it and call orderlies to suppress a dangerous patient.

Mr. Attwa continued. “You have no idea of who I am... as it should be. I think I will have some fun with you before I go.”

Definitely a situation here, she thought. Her fingers rested lightly against the button, ready to press it in a heartbeat if needed.

Suddenly Lisa felt her body go limp and darkness begin to close in around her. The last thing she remembered was a single word uttered by the mysterious Mr. Attwa, what was it... “SLEEP?”

“....4, 5, fully awake now”.

Vision and hearing slowly returned. Dr. Sorenson’s chair was now facing to the side and her hair was slightly mussed. A strange taste was in her mouth and she noted that her squirt was hiked up her legs and her panties were soiled with something sticky. Was she getting a vaginal discharge now on top of everything else? She sat upright abruptly and pulled down her squirt, adjusting her clothes. Her attention shifted to Mr. Attwa who seemed to be fumbling with his zipper as he returned to his seat.

“What in the hell is going on here!", she demanded.

Mr. Attwa hesitated as he contemplated her question. He decided he would tell her. The horror would be brief, as he would simply re-induce a trance and wipe her memory.

“Dr. Sorenson, you along with hundreds of others, have been selected to be a warrior army for Allah. I have been re-visiting my subjects, reinforcing their conditioning to make certain they are ready for the coming Jihad.”

He paused, observing her smile as if she did not believe him. “Does this sound like a delusion to you doctor?.... after all, isn’t that what you have written in my chart?”

Dr. Sorenson had seen many patients before like Mr. Attwa. Their delusions were deeply engrained and extraordinarily difficult to dislodge, but modern pharmacotherapy was making the task easier. His story bordered more on psychotic delusion. Perhaps she needed to revisit the diagnosis. She might be dealing with paranoid schizophrenia.

“Mr. Attwa, I know you believe this..., what is it, ‘army?’ to be real... but I would like you to keep your mind open to other possibilities. Sometimes we feel so strongly about something that the fantasy begins to supplant and even replace reality.”

“Maybe you should open your mind to other possibilities. You really think I am delusional?” he enquired incredulously.

She looked him directly in the eyes and using her most authoritative and convincing persona, slowly nodded, “yes sir, I do.”

How do you explain your dress up about your waist?, he mused.

Lisa blushed red. Had she had a brief black-out... what else would explain her clothing and the lapse in her memory.

“I control you. You are a puppet in my hands.” With that he demonstrated.

“Observe my hands squeezing something. Imagine this is your throat. You now feel my hands squeezing your throat and cutting off your oxygen. You feel my hands squeezing tighter and tighter now.”

Lisa felt a slight tightness in her throat, but instead of passing, it began to grow in intensity. Soon she was compelled to put her hands to her neck and try and pull away the imaginary stranglehold.

“Please, I... can’t.... breathe.”

Mr. Attwa opened his hands in release and dropped them to his sides. Simultaneously, Lisa’s airway opened up and she gasped as she drew in a deep breath.

“What do you think about the dream you had last night” he asked, an evil smile settling across his lips.

Lisa realized that her eyes were wide open in abject terror. How could he possibly know about her dream?

“I suppose the pillow is to help your sore ass”, he chuckled.

Lisa thought quickly. I must have been hypnotized. What else could explain this.... I have to act quickly before he takes control of me again. She pushed the red panic button and slowly and deliberately spoke, “protocol 12 100mg stat.”

“What is that, why did you say that?", Attwa enquired.

“Mr. Attwa, whatever powers you believe you possess, there are medications which can help suppress the delusion. I have simply ordered a prescription for you at the pharmacy. In the meantime, tell me more about this Jihad.”

Unknown to Mr. Attwa, protocol 12 was the code name for a potentially dangerous, psychotic patient. At this moment, a triage nurse in the hospital locked unit was filling an air injector syringe with a mixture of Ketamine and thorazine. This would be injected into the subjects neck rendering them unconscious in seconds. It would take 10 minutes to organize the orderlies and proceed to the doctor’s office where the patient would be subdued. Unless the panic button was depressed again, police or security were not called as they were considered unnecessary by the doctor.

Attwa felt totally in charge and no need to rush. He knew that regardless of what he told the doctor, he would subsequently erase her memory and return her to her mundane life until the time she and the others would be activated. He spoke of the coming holy war. Sleeper agent Americans, from lawyers to teachers to doctors had been subjugated in a methodical, systematic manner. The drug Ketamine had been used to rapidly gain induction, and then the subjects had been programmed. When the command came from Iraq, the subjects would be activated where they would each carry out their assignments, sacrificing their lives in the process to thwart the massive investigation that was sure to follow. The damage would be incalculable. Trillions of dollars in property damage, cities so contaminated that they would have to be abandoned for centuries and fatalities in the tens of millions.

Dr. Sorenson listened carefully. She realized this was no delusion. Her heart was racing. Each second that passed seemed an eternity. Where were the orderlies?

And as if commanded by her will, the door swung open and two powerful orderlies crossed the room in an instant. Mr. Attwa started to turn only to feel steely arms press him down into the chair. He could feel a cold metal object press against his neck, then a sharp sting and the sound of air escaping...gushhh. As his consciousness began to fade, he realized he had been duped. “You cunt, I will kill....youuuuuu”. His head slumped against his chest.

Dr. Sorenson looked up at the orderlies. “Thanks Pete... Bill”. He had me a bit scared, but I can handle it now.

“Are you sure?", the nurse asked.

“Oh yes, the Ketamine and thorazine will make him putty in my hands to mold as I wish. Really, no need for concern... I will hit the button again if I need you... promise.”

“Ok Dr. Sorenson. Have a good day.” They closed the door behind them as they departed.

Dr. Sorenson looked across her desk at her quarry. He certainly wasn’t very formidable now.

“Mr. Attwa.", no response... louder... “Mr. Attwa!”

“Yes” he responded weakly.

“Open your eyes, but remain asleep. You can only hear my voice. My voice is coming from inside your head. Nod if you understand.” He nodded.

“I am Allah.... you are hearing the voice of Allah.” Mohammed Attwa was visibly shaken.

Lisa got up and strolled over to him. “Why have you not bowed before me and kissed my feet?”

Mohammed let out a cry. “I am sorry Allah, I beg your forgiveness”, as he leaped from his chair falling at her feet. He gingerly kissed each foot.

“Do you have the names of all the people in America that are to carry out the attacks?”

“Yes. Their names are in a notebook in my jacket.”

Lisa retrieved the notebook. The names with addresses, occupations, phone numbers and ‘trigger words” were scrolled next to each. Lisa decided not to read her name, lest she accidentally trigger herself. She would turn this over to the FBI.

Lisa contemplated how this man had violated her and others like her. Death was simply too good for him. She pondered her options and then began the process of programming her willing subject.

“Mohammed, I have a great mission for you.” Mr. Attwa heard the voice of Allah commanding him. “I want you to return to Iraq and gather together all the leaders of Al-Queda and Hezbollah and all other important leaders. I want to gather everyone in my presence in heaven to discuss my plans for a final, glorious mission. Before we return from heaven to earth, you and my other loyal followers will eat your fill of the finest foods and sleep with beautiful virgins.”

Lisa knew enough about Islam that she was speaking to his fundamental beliefs and the promised rewards that would follow martyrdom.

“I know this is a lot to ask of you, but the only way to gather everyone at once in my presence is to detonate a powerful explosion in the meeting. Only then can they ascend to heaven to sit by my throne. Do you have access to sufficient C4 or other explosives to carry out my commands.”

“Yes, Allah.”

“You must not confide in anyone, not even Osama, for they may not understand and be willing to come before me. It is very important that everyone come before me at the same time to insure that Islam will rule the world.”

Several minutes and instructions later, Lisa was convinced that the instructions were firmly implanted in his mind. She erased his memory of the induction she had performed, awoke him and bid him on his way.

“Goodbye Mr. Attwa. I’m glad we had a chance to meet and discuss your problems.”

“Goodbye Dr. Sorenson. You will be receiving a call in the next few weeks. I have enjoyed our.....", he thought of the most appropriate word... “sessions.” He almost laughed out loud. Sex with her had been good, he would miss it. Mr. Attwa exited, closing the door behind him. She was well programmed and would complete her assignment when the time came. He had enjoyed having her, as he imagined the previous evening. It still amazed him that he could so completely control his victim’s minds. She had absolutely no idea of the ravages he had bestowed upon her. He looked at his watch. He needed to call the airline to book a flight back to Iraq. Allah would be most pleased with him.