The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Carel felt depressed and tired again. Stakeouts were a bore. No doubt Mr. Cadderman would be interested to know that the target was using a hpynotist, but personally, Carel could care less. His ulcer hurt. He tipped the flask to his lips.

“Hello, hypnotist’s office. Can I help you?”

“I need to talk to Walter Frier.”

“Mr. Frier is with a client at the moment, would you like to leave a message?”

“Tell him I’ll call back at 4.”

“Sir, I am shocked that you would call me on the phone with business of this nature. Please do not do so again. My license would immediately be forfeit for taking on such business. Good day!”

Tim Cadderman sat on the hypnotist’s stairs and grinned at him when he opened the door on the landing. He pulled out a big wad of hundreds and waved them like a fan.

“You told me not to call you, not that I couldn’t talk to you.”

“Jesus Christ, man, put it back in your pants and be quiet. Did anyone see you come in?”

A bargain was struck, and a great deal of money changed hands, with more promised if Walter Frier could ruin the career of a certain promising potential Surgeon General.

Elsewhere, Josephine Taylor, M.D., Ph.D, was sitting on her back porch and wiggling. Wiggling and smoking. She had been unable to kick the habit despite her fierce intentions. She hated smoking; she campaigned against the legality of smoking in public, for God’s sake. Why couldn’t she stop? But when she tried, she was unable to function as an administrator or a parent. She became irascible, unreasonable, impulsive, and frankly stupid. She put out her cigarette. It wasn’t just the physical addiction. In desparation, she’d once shut herself up at home for three weeks, wasting a much-needed vacation from the Institute, to get off the damned things. All it had done was make her MORE aware of how much she wanted to smoke and how damned grumpy she was. She couldn’t return to work until she took her first puff. It filled her like the unholy nectar of the Gods. Now she had just gotten the call about the Surgeon General job and DAMNED if she was going to give the press anything to chatter about at her confirmation hearings. She was quitting TODAY. The hypnotist had gotten her on the right track. She was going back to him tomorrow, and every GODDAMNED day she had a chance to until the habit was kicked for good. She swallowed, shifted her hips, and looked fierce while her hands shook.

Inside, she said, “Amy, I’m quitting again. Stay out of my way.”

“You told me already. I’m going to go have sex instead.”

“Silence. Keep your virginity. Use a condom. Go to school.”

“School’s over.”

“Go to bed.”

“Bye. I’m taking the Subaru.”

That night, Tim Cadderman masturbated furiously fantasizing about Josephine. The night she’d let him see her tits before he blew it with her, way back when. His wife’s tits just didn’t measure up. Her luxurious, long curly red hair. He wanted to own her. He was still in love with her. He imagined having her in a cage, begging for his cock. How she would plead with him. Hell, she’d probably kick him in the balls if he let her out for a second. But he could dream. The hynotist had said he might get a chance at her because of her “therapy”. Well, if he did, it was worth a lot more than $200,000. Because anything he did with Josephine was going on tape, it would be an investment. Besides, she would lose him millions if she got that job.

“Imagine a channel through your body, a channel full of hot smoke. It’s flowing from your mouth, into your lungs, around inside your lungs, and back out your mouth. See the heat flowing red. It will burn your lungs. Feel it.”

Josephine breathed uncomfortably, lost in the fantasy.

“It’s burning you. You are in danger. You must shift the channel or your lungs will be burned. Let all your air out. So. Now as you breathe in, let the heat flow down your back, down your spine to your sacrum, across the perineum to the labia and the clitoris, and up your belly and your chest back to your mouth. Let it flow redly, no less hot, but it’s safer now, it can’t burn you, it will make you energetic instead. You will be excited. Your life and your work will be at their best. The hot energy will power you. You will feel aroused, sensitive, every part of your body will be warm, ready, in motion. Unfortunately love-making will be difficult due to your moods, but later we will deal with this problem.” That would be enough for today. He had deliberately reversed the natural energy channel in her body, which should flow up the back, down the front. The energy would start to build up.

Josephine raced through the next three days like a woman on fire. She made 81 phone calls, drafted eleven interoffice memos and a recommendation to Congress, made final changes to a grant, played basketball with her daughter and some other friends, baked a cake and two batches of cookies, and tried to make love to husband seven times, but her temper drove him away all but once. He worried about her, but she assured him when she calmed down that she would get over it. She slept a total of 12.5 hours. Her average body temperature was 100.3.

Walter Frier knew his business.

“You are filled with anger. It a red energy, the feeling which has kept you from stopping smoking. You need to honor the heat in your body. Let yourself fill with anger, and let the anger drain down your back, to your sacrum, your perineum, your cunt. When it fills your crotch, it will change to sexual energy. Now breathe it up your chest, between your breasts, back to your mouth. It will fill your mouth, fill your whole head, with the need to suck cock, to give yourself completely. Your skin is sensitive, filled with the breathing, hot energy. Your clothes are uncomfortable. The energy flows in a cycle through you, never satisfied. All of the energy which goes into the anger and smoking in your life will be pulled into this cycle and turned into heat. You will burn with energy and sexual need. You will feel the cycle at all times, driving out the desire to smoke. You will be grateful.

“When I give you the exit interview, you will do a sexy strip for me, showing me the heat inside you, but you will not know that you are doing it. You will answer the questions. You will dance for me, with total sexual abandon, showing your terrible need for me. When I ask you to honor the red hot energy in your mouth, you will suck me off. After that, you will be very happy, very energetic, still unable to have sex with your husband, but you will lust after all men. Your anger will make you helpless, sexual, controlled by the heat in your head. This will be especially true with Tim Cadderman. When you are mad at him, you will be unable to resist him. You will be under his complete control. You will submit yourself to him. The heat will take over, and a childish, needy, submissive personality will come forward.

“When you meet Tim Cadderman, you feel that only he can fulfill you. You will need him more than anything you can imagine. You will be unable to have an orgasm except at his command.”

“Now, do you mind if I videotape this exit interview? I know we’ve arranged for follow-ups as needed, but I usually like to think of the exit interview as a kind of graduation. Good. Now, I have some questions for you.” She stood up, face flushing furiously. He touched a button, and music started. The Police.

“What were your goals on entering hypnosis?” She began to sway with the beat, hips and breasts moving forward and back. She was possessed by the music.

“To stop smoking.” Her voice was absent. Soft, seeking hands found blouse buttons, lovingly loosed them. The cloth fell open as she moved.

“And to what degree do you feel you have achieved your goal?” Was she listening? Her eyes were closed. She let the blouse move away from her navel, let her soft belly come forward. “I feel great about my progress. For the first time in years—" she tossed her shirt aside, reaching behind her to unclasp her bra. She swung her round, covered breasts back and forth with her hands behind her, teased the bra off slowly, then stuck out her tongue just a bit, holding her breasts out in front of her, squeezing the nipples and gasping with pleasure "—that I don’t feel like smoking, Doctor, you have done an extraordinary job.”

“Thank you.” He meant it. She expressed further satisfaction by unzipping the fly on her jeans. “Do you feel like there have been other positive or negative effects of the therapy?”

She stepped out of the jeans. Only the panties remained. Frier could just smell a warm, feminine smell from her crotch as it undulated before him. His cock swelled and he gestured her closer. She moved toward him, the blush from her face spread all the way down her breasts, now. “I have regained an enormous amount of energy which was tied up in the smoking process.” She paused to look him straight in the eyes with a burning stare while her hands toyed with her panties. “I was unaware of just how much smoking detracted from my life. I’m really impressed with the hypnosis process, and I’m considering its applications to a much broader range of conditions.” She hardly looked at the doctor as she turned her gorgeous butt to Frier and slowly drew down the last scrap of clothing. Then the dance began in earnest.

She danced her lust, begging with her eyes, with every gesture of her body, to be taken, used, fulfilled. She broadcast her openness. Her eyes showed the submissive depths of her soul. Frier could feel the greedy camera taking it all in. She opened her legs and moved her pelvis back and forth, moaning, the juices dripping from her pussy onto her inner thighs. She touched herself, teasing, then spread the lips of her labia, moving forward to offer her inner being to the man who owned her. “That is excellent,” said Frier, the words a little choked in his mouth. “I want you to encourage you to continue to honor the red heat inside you, in your head, which made you smoke, but which can also fuel you, give you what you need.” She placed her hands together in a prayerful gesture, bowed her head, sank on her knees, and unzipped his fly. She looked up at him as to her God, then she gave her worshipful attentions. Then she dressed, said a cheerful good day, and left.

The tape in the machine was worth more than her career at that point, but Frier would never release it. It would ruin him as well. It would be up to Cadderman to take care of his end. If he couldn’t do it, he was more of a fool than he looked. Besides, Walter Frier had a USE for this tape.

“I just want to warn you, don’t get cocky. The conditioning will hold for a few hours, no more. You’ll only get one chance. After that she may not be willing to get near you. If she falls asleep, get rid of her before she wakes up. She’s a resourceful person. The anger may escape given time.”

“Don’t worry. It’s in the bag. Doc, if this thing is half what you promise, you’ve earned your money twice over.”

The next three days were a continued whirlwind. Her daughter took up residence at a friend’s house until the storm passed. She worked twelve hour days then came home and started remodeling the bathroom. She screamed at anyone who came near, the apologized profusely. She raged around the house talking loudly to herself. She played basketball until she was asked to leave for fouling. It didn’t stop. Her face was flushed. Increasingly, her thoughts were filled with sex, but she couldn’t stand her husband’s touch. She found herself looking inappropriately at men on the street, then blushing like a firetruck. She seriously considered offering herself to a bum on the street. They could use a public washroom. She shook herself and blushed again. She was still hot, but it was no longer so pleasant. She made an appointment to go back to the hypnotist to straighten it out, but before that came the press conference, bright and early Monday morning.

Cadderman was there, but she didn’t know him. She hadn’t seen him since twelvth grade, didn’t know what company he owned.

“Why do you think that people who want to smoke shouldn’t be allowed to smoke in the privacy of their own bars? Or anywhere else, for that matter? We have the same rights as anyone else.”

“Mr, ah?”

“Cadderman.” A strange heat shot through her. Her face lit up like a cherry. Damn it all! What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she just stop smoking like everyone else! What was it about that name? What paper was he with?

“Mr. Cad—Cadderman, I believe that it is the right of the public to experience a smoke-free workplace, recreation, and so on. Anyone else?”

“Hey, I’m not finished.” His face just kept drawing her attention. He was so annoying! “Why is that right the only one that counts? Aren’t you being really self-centered? What do you call that kind of attitude?”

“I call it—” her face was flaming, she was sure everyone could see it in the sharp lights. Her brain whirled. She felt faint. She wanted—“I call it a civil rights movement toward health. Now, I’d like to take a question from—”

“Look, you, you may be a babe, but just because you’re a lady doctor doesn’t mean you don’t have to take questions like a man.” He grinned unpleasantly and moved forward a bit. Heads turned. “If you’re going to represent the people, well, we’re half the people, and us men have more jobs, make more money, and run the country. So I don’t think you should count on your looks to make you Surgeon General.” Josephine’s knees collapsed and she fell on the stand. People rushed up to her, including her tormentor. He shoved well-wishers out of the way. “I’m a doctor, get out of the way, let me see her.” Someone was hurt, she heard a squeal. But he got his arms around her and she found herself clinging helplessly to him as he supported her out of the building with Annie, her secretary, following worriedly, trying to talk to her, but the words weren’t making sense, she could only lean on the strong shoulder as he put her into his car. He gratuitously fondled her breast as she sat down, and she felt it in her groin, which was filled with liquid heat. Her head spun. Her lips seemed swollen with desire. Her mouth was dry.

“What have you done to me?” She asked, concentrating on the words.

“Nothing, bitch,”—no one could hear them now—“Just sit your pretty little butt down and stay stupid like the female you’re meant to be.” Her anger grew hot inside her, powerful, fiery, and just as she opened her mouth to shout him down, as her hand moved to the door handle, she felt herself involuntarily squirm in her chair. Her nipples felt swollen, full of strange electricity. She felt them rub on her bra. Her lips moved, saying, without her will, “Oh baby, talk to me dirty like that. You’re so strong, baby. Cadderman. Oooh.” What the hell was she saying? Her clitoris was swollen, electric, like it had been stung by a bee.

He smiled. “I knew you’d want me. Any man could take you if he were strong enough. If he had a big enough dick. See that thing in my trousers? You know you want it. You stupid cocksucking bitch, get down on your knees and beg for it.” She found her knees on the floor of the mini-van, her clasped hands raised to him as he drove. “Please, Cadderman, please baby, use me, take me, I’ll do anything you want. Oh, I need you! I need your cock!” Her hand pushed between her legs over the rayon slacks, rubbing hard. Her body writhed helplessly. Her mouth opened to him.

Some untold time later, they were inside his house, and he was making fun of her. The tape was running again, and the thought flashed through her head, “Why am I always on tape these days?".

“You think you can be the Surgeon General? Work for the President? Well, I’ve got news for you. You’re just another stupid broad who slept with the Dean for her diploma and cheated on the exam and you’ll never be anything but a whore. Tell me what a whore you are.”

The power built up in her again, coming into her heart, and she drew herself up. For a moment, he felt afraid. The her knees buckled and she fell to the floor, tears welling up in her eyes. The words were quiet, silken, so terribly full of need. Cadderman almost came in his pants. “I’m a whore. I need you so bad, baby. I’ll do anything if you’ll just”—she almost lost consciousness for a moment, groaning—“Fuck me.” Her eyes were closed, the freckled face was burning a pretty dark pink. “Please, baby, Cadderman, baby, please take me.” She started to strip for him, trying desparately to make him want her. She couldn’t recognize the lust in his eyes, could hardly see him. Over and over she offered herself to him and his camera. She swayed her butt, her full breasts, not knowing what would turn him on, desparately trying to do the right thing to get him to warm up to her.

“Isn’t it great we’re getting this on tape? Turn to the camera, and thank it. Act like a whore to the camera, Josephine.” She turned to the camera, staring into its single, unforgetting eye, and holding out her breasts to it.

“Oh, thank you, camera. Oh, baby, I want you so bad. You don’t know what you do to me.” She hated that thing! The hatred seemed to trickle down her back like fire, oozing around her perineum to fill her cunt with painful arousal. She dropped her pants, pushed her panties off her hipbones, and danced for the camera with her panties around her thighs. She touched herself for the camera, wishing for orgasm, knowing it wasn’t to be. Her hand rubbed back and forth across her pussy, wetting it with her juices. He laughed at her. “Like the camera, do you cunt?”

“Please let me come, Tim! Please fuck me. Let me suck you. I love the camera, I want you to have whatever you want from me.”

“You got to lick my feet first, cunt.” He’d deliberately left his feet unwashed for the past week. His leather dress shoes didn’t breathe well, and his feet emerged stinking and damp. She went for them like water in the desert, drinking in the odor, licking them completely clean. He sat down and enjoyed the wash while she squirmed at his feet. He patted her head and reminded her to get between the toes.

“Now get on the bed.” She was all eagerness, her unnaturally red face peering hopefully up at him as her white legs spread akimbo, offering a wet and swollen clitoris to him. He walked over casually, and began to play with her, gently stroking the engorged organ. “Remember you can’t come yet, bitch. Remember?”

“I know. I remember. Please fuck me! Cadderman!” He continued to torture her, enjoying himself in a relaxed way as she squirmed and begged and gradually worked herself up to such a frenzy he was afraid she would hyperventilate and pass out. He moved his hand away. Waited for her eyes to focus on him. She beyond being able to beg in words.

“You want to get fucked, bitch?”

“Yes. Yes.”

“There’s just one more thing you have to do.” She looked up at him fearfully. “Write me a check. Eight hundred thousand dollars. I know you’re good for it.” She blinked. Slowly, her legs folded up, and she drew herself up in a daze. Fell on the bed again, a tangle of pretty flesh. Got up again, found her purse, took out the checkbook—every movement had a lucid unreality, slow, perfectly defined—and wrote the check. She stood up, walked over to him, holding out the check like a child.

“Show it to the camera. I need documentation that you wrote it of your own free will.” She showed it. “Tell the camera what it’s for.”

She was locked in the moments between times. “It’s to get you to fuck me.” She gave it to him and lay back down on the bed, spreading her labia for him. “Please, baby. Now, please.”

Leering triumphantly, he unbuttoned his shirt, dropped his pants. When she saw the dick, she gasped. Her vagina squirted obscenely onto the bed. He held it above her, while she held her arms open to him, begging without words. He waved it at her pussy. When he gently touched the orifice, she made a loud groaning sound, like a woman in terrible pain. Then he began to fuck. He started softly at first to prevent himself from coming too soon.

“Now, don’t you move a muscle, or I won’t let you come after all.” Her body froze. Her heartbeat was booming through her and he could see the arteries jump in her neck, her wrists, and her flaming face could be seen to pulse. But she was still and let him slowly, slowly fuck her, taking his time. If she had moved he would have come despite himself, but he had no fear. He sucked on a breast. He put his hand on her neck, like he was going to strangle her, and squeezed gently. It was so hot! He liked fucking her holding onto her windpipe. It made him hornier. Her pussy, almost frothing, squeezed gently over and over on his tool, the abundant lubrication preventing it from bringing him off too soon. He used her patiently, drawing every ounce of pleasure from her with easy fucking. But at last the pace started to quicken. She licked her lips, still holding herself still, legs wrapped around him.

“Please....”

“Hold on. Now, don’t talk again, and don’t move.” But as his banging increased in tempo, she was unable to hold still. Her will was drowned in her fiery sexuality. Moans burst from her lips, and her hands drew him to her, pulling him against her, wanting to come, but she could not. Her cries finally loosed the fire in him, and he began to spout semen profusely into her.

Her eyes filled with dread. “Wait. Please...let me come.” His eyes were closed. His dick was getting softer. She rubbed against him frantically. He waited, looking mockingly at her, until it was soft and he drew it out. She made a sound like a woman losing a child.

“OK, bitch. You can come now.” Her eyes filled with pain and anger. Her body tensed, completely ignoring her wishes. The limbs drew inward, curling her up, then spread out. He could clearly see the pulsing in her clitoris. He sat down beside her and watched curiously. He could see her heartbeat in her clit, but as she arched upwards, the throbbing became even more obvious. Her low scream was simply intense. His dick started to come to life. He put an interested finger inside her to feel the pulses of the orgasm. He started to count. Textbooks put female orgasms at between 6 and 12 spasms. He didn’t know how many he’d missed already, but he kept track as she screamed and bucked. Fifteen, sixteen—he glanced at the camera, it was pointing just this way and had a good view of her—twenty, one, two, three, four—that was big one, it was actually uncomfortable on his finger—seven, eight, nine, thirty, one—she actually seemed to be getting into a rhythm here—five, six, seven, eight, nine, forty, was there no end to it?, three, four, five, six, slowing down now, nine...fifty, one, two...three. He figured he’d probably missed about a dozen. Call it sixty to be on the safe side. He was making sexual history!

Josephine fell back on the bed in a state of sleep, or simple unconsciousness. Tim lay down beside her, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and held her comfortably. He pulled a book from the nightstand and began to read. They would have one more go-around when she woke up, and if she broke the conditioning—well, he wouldn’t mind raping her. It would round out the experience. Too much willingness could pall. He looked fondly down at the sleeping woman in his arms. At the camera watching her sleep, naked, in his bed.

She slept for six hours, well into the afternoon. Around two she started to dream, and her face grew hot again for a while, then cooled off. At three Tim woke her by rubbing her puss. Her eyes opened langorously. For a moment they were full of anger, then only lust.

“Oh, Tim.” It was quieter now. He allowed himself to fantasize that she loved him too. She climbed on top of him and took him inside of her, closing her eyes when he mocked her, fucking steadily and warmly until they both were sweating, breathing hard. Her hands went to his chest, his shoulders.

“Let me come, please, baby. Come on, baby.”

He was feeling soft. When he felt himself go over the edge, he gave the word. “Go ahead.” Her eyes flashed. She pushed herself up. Suddenly he was afraid. He remembered the hypnotist’s warning. Too late. Her orgasm began as her hands tightened on his neck, thumbs pressing hard on the carotid.

!...that’s right, she’s a doctor... his hands reached for hers, but he was coming, which made him a little slow, and her hands were like female steel, and as her pussy milked his cock he lost consciousness. She held the pressure for 3.5 seconds. There would be no brain damage, only a period of 30 to 90 minutes of unconsciousness. Her brain began to clear. She continued to rub herself against him—his cock was staying hard—until she came again, then drew herself up.

“I feel good,” she said aloud. “I don’t want a cigarette.” Her face was still flushed, of course, it always stayed red for at least half an hour after sex. But there was a new feeling in her, a new thought. She spoke again. “FIRE.” What to do? There was a candle by the bed. She went in the bathroom to vomit, emerging freshened.

She mustn’t call directly. Her father was in the hospital. First call information, it would be part of the trail. She got the number of the hospital from information, then called her dad. He’d been in Korea, he’d understand. Found some mail with the address.

“Dad, I need your help. This is a covert op. Call Matt and tell him. Have him call in a prescription for morphine at Northfield’s, pick it up, then I need him at 5714 Bundy, park around the corner, immediately, drop everything.”

“You got it, Jo.” The line went dead. Count on dad for action, as long as it didn’t involve Christmas presents. She wandered around, setting up, whistling to herself. She could feel the fire inside, burning in the belly now. It would have an outlet. It would not hurt her any more. Once she was done. Get the tape, put it in the purse. Turn on the TV. One more thing. She found his card and called his office. It was no trouble making her voice sound smoky.

“Tim Cadderm—”

“Tim just asked me to mention that he’s not coming in today. Don’t tell his wife.” She giggled, then hung up and went on giggling.

She hustled Matt inside when he showed up with the morphine and the needle. He stared at her, naked and disheveled in a strange house furnished with ugly velvet. She walked over to Tim, drew 4 ccs morphine into the needle, and shot him up, sat back to give it time to work.

“Jo, what the hell?”

Her face reddened again, but felt a little different. It was angrier. “Just trust me on this one. Get out of here.” She didn’t say anything more, but after giving the drug 150 seconds, she poured brandy on the bed, avoiding Tim, lit the candle, knocked it over onto the brandy, and watched the fire. You had to hand it Matt, he took it well. He just watched.

“Comes a time when trust is all you have,” he said.

“You’ll see. Get out of here now, take a walk. I’ll meet you at the car in about twenty minutes.” He left, shaking his head.

Josephine watched the fire spread. She made sure it got the nightstand, the book. The smoke alarms were annoying but there was nothing for it. Nothing could hurt her now. She stretched herself upward. How good it was to be alive!

It was getting hot. She felt it all through her torso, in her head. She touched her pussy, and the heat seemed to flow into her, warm and happy. She breathed in pure joy. The floor had caught. Tim was uncomfortable, he twitched, but that was all he was going to do. Ever. She shivered, drawing more and more heat inside herself, breathing it out her mouth into the air. She blew the heated air toward the man on the bed.

When the air in room became actually dangerous to breathe, and she knew she’d overstayed her twenty minutes and the floor was flaming around her, the fire trucks would be here and she had better damned well get out of there, she stayed another five minutes, breathing the hot smoke in deep, painful, satisfying breaths.

She would need the tape. Desparately. She grabbed her purse and ran out the back door into the fenced back yard. Under the bushes into the neighbors yard, out the driveway to the street. No one saw her. She found the car. On the way home, she said, “Sorry about that. Had to finish up some business. Things should be OK now.” She breathed on her husband, “I love you,” and her breath was unpleasantly hot.