The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Money, Whores, and Liquor, I always say, in that order. I’m smart enough to know that it doesn’t work for everyone, but as the national sales director for a major corporation you’ve never heard of, I can tell you—in my industry, with my sales force, that’s what makes the Big Sales happen.

My name is Roger, and there’s an art to it, of course. Not just anybody can do Big Sales. Every one is different. One of the biggest deals of my career (so far) was totally different than anything that ever went before or is ever gonna happen again. We’re talking freakin’ weird.

There was this company (whose name don’t matter, either) that was all set to buy their components from us. If they picked us as their major supplier, it would also have the effect of giving us a huge leg up as the industry standard when selling to everybody else. We’re talking $25 to $30 million in direct sales in the first year, and about three times that to the rest of the industry, and about 20 to 50% growth each year for five years or more. Lots o’ money.

This company was owned by Thomas Hillman, sole proprietor. That meant that it had a paternalistic, “we’re all one big family”, employee-hugging philosophy. It also meant that if we sold Hillman on the idea, nobody else at his outfit mattered. He was gonna meet me in Denver and I had to make everything go right. I was all set to present our case, impress him with razzle-dazzle and swank accommodations, and wine, dine and charm him non-stop.

Money, Whores, and Liquor, I always say. But Hillman didn’t drink (at all!), and he owned the whole damn company, meaning any kickback I offered him was taking money out of one pocket to put in the other. So I called in Debbie, the best damn “Professional Escort” in the world.

Some people are lucky enough in life to make a living doing what they really love, and Debbie was one of them. The girl loved to screw. She was damn good at it, too. If you want to get a lot of sex in this world, there is no better strategy than to be a stunningly beautiful woman, which she certainly was. She had discovered sex, and turned pro, long before she was legal age. She put herself through college (mostly, I think, because the campus was full of horny guys) before really getting serious about her chosen career. Now she worked full-time out of Vegas, only by referral, for top dollar.

Debbie wasn’t (quite) the most expensive “date” in the world. There are girls who specialize in experiencing (or enduring) things that you or I (or anybody sane) can hardly imagine. But I’ve done more than my share of whores, and I know some people, (and they think of me as an innocent babe), and we all agree that for straight screwing, there is nobody alive as good as Debbie. I mean, if sexual talent and ability were rated on a scale of 1 to 10, and Debbie is a 10, then all the sluts competing for #2 in the world would be 8’s at best, ‘cause there would be no 9’s.

Debbie was so into it that she gave volume discounts. That’s right, she charged less to do entire parties. She loved having 12 guys and a couple Dobermans all focusing their attentions on her all night. (She had a thing for Dobermans.) Every year, I flew my top salesmen to Vegas and hired Debbie to reward them. My guys fought like rabid wolverines to earn that trip. So I was on her approved client list.

It was costing me a fortune to fly Debbie into Denver for this meeting, but after she got through with Thomas, he would sign anything (if he could still move). I scheduled the three of us for dinner at the hotel restaurant after my team and I had made our presentation, complete with slide shows, demos, bells and whistles.

At dinner I introduced Debbie to Thomas as a “special marketing executive”. Every eye in the place was on her as she glided by in her slinky black cocktail dress. She was tall and slender, with graceful curves in all the rights places; making anything she wore look like it was on display on some high-fashion runway. As one of my guys described her—“Walking Viagra”. She helped carry the conversation over dinner with her witty and clever remarks on any given topic, punctuated by her gentle, musical laughter.

Eventually, I was ready to make my exit and let Debbie do her magic. Taking advantage of Debbie’s trip to the ladies’ room, I made some remark about how Debbie had a presentation of her own to make now, up in Hillman’s room. Everything got quiet. That’s when I stepped in it. “Don’t worry, she’s included as part of the service.”

“If you think I’m going to sleep with her, you’re mistaken.”

“Come on, she’s gorgeous, you’re both adults and a good time will be had by all. Why not take advantage?”

“Let me explain.” Hillman said; “2000-some years ago they invented Christianity, and its practice became surprisingly widespread in North America. Some of these people even believe that sex should be confined to marriage.” There was another long pause, then a sigh and a shrug like a teacher prompting a schoolchild; “I’m one of those people.”

“You’re not married, Tom.”

He just stared at me like I was really, really dense.

The whole deal was very possibly saved because Hillman got a phone call and excused himself. Debbie returned to the table and asked “What gives?”

“He’s had an outbreak of squeamish morals and doesn’t want any part of you.”

“I know that, I heard him lecturing you, so I ducked back to the pay phone and had him called to the front desk.” (She was my hero.) “The question is, what do you want to do now?” She had her toes in my lap under the table, but it didn’t seem to distract her.

I told her this was a really Big Deal, and there would be plenty of incentive bonus if she could patch things over and land the sale. I said “no limits” on techniques she could use, and she nodded that she understood. She gave me her room key and told me to wait there, she would be up within the hour.

I waited in Debbie’s room, wondering what she would try. I should explain that among her many talents, she was a master hypnotist. She did incredibly lewd demonstrations at parties, and any lover she favoured could live their wildest fantasy. I was hoping that she could put Hillman under her spell and dig me out of my social faux pas.

When she came back to her room, she stepped out of her stilettos and set her purse down, letting her dress slither to the floor with an easy shrug. She had nothing on underneath. She made it look like getting naked gracefully in 2 seconds was something she practiced every day. (Come to think of it . . . .)

“This is going to be difficult.” She was undoing the buttons on my shirt already. “I’m not going to be able to put him under till I get an opportunity when he’s less defensive.”

“What did you tell him? [Hey, don’t rip that!]”

“I have him half convinced that I’m a junior executive on your sales team, and that you’re just a pig who thought I’d jump at the chance to sleep my way to a big promotion.” She laughed (again, like subtle music.) “[Just lay back, and let me . . . .]”

“If you can’t get to him tonight, you’ll just have to follow him home to Phoenix. [Yeah, that feels so nice . . .Whoa! I wasn’t ready!]”

“So you want me to pursue and seduce him? That’s going to cost you. Of course, tonight’s all paid for, already. [Even this!]”

“If you can land this deal, the money will be there. [Yeah! Yeah! Oh Jeez, don’t stop doing that!]”

“OK, I’ll do it, it’ll be a challenge. But only because I’m willing to go to Phoenix—my Folks retired there and I can visit. How much did you say this paid? [Slide this way a little.]”

“I’ll give you a quarter point on the contract. [Oooh!]”

“You know Roger, you need to relax. You’re too keyed up about this deal. Just keep going, relax, and stay with that rhythm. You can relax now and let me handle everything from here. You can trust me to handle everything while you just relax. You can feel your cares and concerns easing, relaxing . . . .”

Somehow I had agreed to a 1.5% commission on all sales, for the next 5 years, to Hillman or anyone else, if Debbie got the deal signed in 3 weeks. I felt really good about the bargain, even though it strained the limits of what we could afford. Debbie had also talked me into a written contract, committing us to her “consulting fee” and all legally binding. I suspect she hypnotized me, ‘cause I couldn’t bring myself to object. Debbie wasn’t about to burn a good client, though. The fantastic sex alone had been worth it.

I got a couple short overnight letters from her in the next week.

Roger = You won’t believe how I got back in with Thomas again. He goes to the same Church as my mother! I just showed up with Mom one Sunday morning and “bumped into” him there. Instant image reversal! Hotel hooker to devoted, church-going daughter! We are going to do lunch and I will begin fucking with his head. His guard is down now. = Debbie

Roger = Thomas is NOT a good hypnotic subject. He always seems to get distracted just as I’m about to get him under. I think I’m making some progress, though. Either way, he’s asked me out every night this week. He’s a really nice guy, and I’m kind of enjoying life in the Slow Lane for awhile. I’ve had a chance to catch up on things with Mom & Dad, so no regrets taking this job even if payout uncertain. I’ll get the deal done, whatever it takes. = Debbie

Two weeks later:

Roger = The Plan I sent you has worked. Thomas has signed for $30 million plus. Send my 1st check to my Mom’s address. = Debbie

I don’t know what “The Plan” was, it must have got lost on its way to me. The $30 million deal came through just fine, and we made out with the other customers even better than I’d hoped. Debbie was raking in some big bucks on trailing commissions.

I was immediately assigned to the Next Big Project. I got too busy to follow the Hillman deal anymore. It caught my attention, though, when I got a wedding invitation from Debbie and Thomas. As the guy who “brought them together” I was asked to be in the wedding party. I couldn’t attend, so I sent a nice gift. I wonder if any of her other former clients got invited—they would fill the entire church and spill out into the street.

Debbie just wasn’t a “one-man” woman. Hell, she wasn’t a “one-woman” or a “one-species” or a “one-at-a-time” woman. I figured she had Hillman hypnotically conditioned to look the other way when she stepped out on him; and to just keep paying her credit-card bills without reading them.

It was 3 years before I found myself in Phoenix, and had a chance to pay a visit to the Hillman’s. I had dinner at their mansion. Debbie looked like a million bucks (she should, she would end up earning $11 million on that contract). Hillman seemed perfectly normal. We made chit-chat over our elaborate, multi-course dinner (which Debbie claimed to have cooked herself!) At the end of the evening Debbie took me aside to speak in private. I was ready to set up a rendezvous, or even to do her right then and there. Once you’ve had Debbie, other women don’t really count as “Sex”.

She handed me an Overnight Envelope, from her, addressed to me.

“I found this the other day, and I was trying to decide to send it or open it or just trash it. When I found out you would be stopping by, I set it aside to give you. Somehow it never got sent 3 years ago.”

With a chaste (!?) kiss goodbye, she sent me home to my hotel room. As soon as I had a chance, I opened and read that letter.

Roger = I’m not having much luck getting Thomas hypnotized really deeply, but I’m making progress with a more conventional seduction. My breakthrough so far is finding out what turns him on—he’s got a thing for “Good” girls. Time is running out on me, though. The “Good” girl act I’ve been trying isn’t working well at all, I’ve been more like a bad stereotype or a cardboard charactature. Seducing someone as a “Good” girl is tremendously subtle. You can’t just talk frankly about sex; you have to be shocked, or disgusted, or at least just a little uncomfortable. At the same time, you have to imply that there are some things that you would be willing to do “with the right guy”. I keep getting it wrong—it’s hard to remember all the rules when you’ve spent so long breaking them. All my years of cynicism and disdain for women who were “repressed”, or “frigid”, or just wouldn’t “put out” keep tripping me up. Even so, I’m close, and not about to give up on all that cash.

Here’s The Plan: If I can’t get Thomas to go under deeply enough or quickly enough, I do know someone I can hypnotize completely—me. I have used self-hypnosis quite a bit over the years, it has helped tremendously boost my enjoyment of—Things. I am going to create a whole new persona for myself—temporarily forget the last 10 years and replace them with a nice, virtuous, personal history that Thomas will fully accept. I will be “in character” 24 / 7 next week, Thomas will go crazy for me. Problem solved.

Don’t worry, I’ve done this sort of thing before, for some of my weirder gigs. I will put in adequate safeguards and back-ups. Of course, getting the Contract will still be a priority (though I might tinker with my motives there . . . ) Just in case something goes wrong, though, I’m sending you the keyword—“Prometheus”. If you say it to me 3 times I will instantly snap out of it and remember everything.

This is going to work. Thomas won’t know what hit him. You will be writing me a series of very large checks. See you in a couple weeks. = Debbie

I was horrified. Debbie had hypnotized herself, forgotten her real personality, and somehow failed to ever come out of it. The next morning I went back to their house to try her emergency back-up keyword, 3 years late. Sure, I’d never gotten her letter, but somehow I felt guilty about it anyway.

Debbie opened the door wearing a yellow-checked sundress and a long white apron. Before I could say anything she turned and hurried off, saying “I’ve got to get back to the kitchen, follow me.”

Waiting for us in the kitchen was a cute little girl, blonde, about 2 or 3 years old.

“Cookies, Mommy?” she asked.

“Not yet, dear. I’ll let you know just as soon as they’re done. Now why don’t you go back to the sun-room and play with Grandma and your little brother.” Debbie turned back to me as the little girl ran off. She checked the timer on the oven. “Alice gets a little impatient on baking day. She’ll be in here again in a few minutes.”

“Listen Debbie—Prometheus.” She suddenly began to focus on me. “Prometheus, Prometheus.”

She stared at me. I stared at her. A slow change came over her face. She began to laugh.

I have already described Debbie as incredibly beautiful, and possibly the sexiest woman in the world. And you already know that I think her laugh is wonderful. This time, however, she lost it completely. She was howling and holding her sides, and almost literally fell to the floor. When she finally managed to regain her composure, she apologized.

“I’m sorry, Roger, but just looking at you there, holding your breath and staring at me, I could tell exactly what you were thinking. You were waiting for me to snap out of it; have my wild slut personality re-emerge, take one look at this outfit and screech: ‘take me to the nearest sex club so I can get gang-banged by 2 dozen strangers’, and the two of us would flee this place, never looking back.”

“There is a biker bar that-a-way . . . .”

“You’re one husband and three kids too late for that.”

“You have two kids, Debbie.” I reminded her.

She patted her tummy and repeated, “Three”.

“So what is the story?” I asked.

“I’m not an idiot.” She explained; “I didn’t put myself in a hypnotic trance for 3 years. I had plenty of safeguards. I knew the whole time that I had hypnotized myself, I just had no idea what for. I also had a time limit built in, the effect would wear off after the Contract deadline. You’re not even the first buddy who’s tried to save me with the keyword. I’ve had my full memories and complete use of my own mind practically this whole time. I decided that I liked the change, though. I will probably listen to some of my own ‘Good Girl’ self-hypnosis tapes again tonight after you leave.”

She was interrupted by the buzzer on her oven, and she took her cookie trays out and set them on the counter to cool.

“Look, I’m going to be a little busy now. If you want all the details, you can read my notes.” She hurried off, and soon returned with a small pink diary decorated with hearts and lace. She handed it to me and I looked at it, then at her.

“I know—a bit too cute.” She acknowledged; “I bought it way before I put myself under; in the week when I was just trying to pretend to be “Nice”, but kept going overboard.”

As I sat in the living room reading her journal, I couldn’t help but think that those cookies smelled wonderful.

Debbie wrote:

Wed. > I know that I have conditioned myself hypnotically to focus on getting the Hillman Contract, but I can’t help but think there was something more to it. I woke up this morning totally devoted to meeting with Thomas and getting him to sign with us, but I wonder why I felt I needed hypnosis for that. I do know that I instructed myself to write my feelings in this journal for my own later review. The Contract deadline is next Friday, so I will have to get busy. I’m meeting Thomas at his office this morning and we’re going for an early lunch. He seems like a really nice guy and I might consider dating him if it weren’t for this urgent Contract business.

Spent all afternoon and evening with Thomas and had a wonderful time. I’m working way too hard lately, I fell asleep on his shoulder as we were sitting on his couch. He seems very different from all my past boyfriends. I can’t say how, because I can’t clearly remember them—I think I am so hypnotically focussed on this deal that it is messing up my memory. I am going to put myself under and listen to my own tape again, hopefully I will be less confused.

Thurs. > I have hypnotized myself before, but it has never resulted in this strange feeling that I have something hidden from myself that I can’t quite remember. I know my overriding objective is to get Thomas to sign the Contract by next Friday. I have thought and thought about why I would need to deceive or mislead myself with hypnosis and I have come to a rather disturbing conclusion. I must have decided to sleep with Thomas to get the deal! Of course, it might make sense as a logical business decision, but morally I could never bring myself to do something like that, hence the self-hypnosis. How cold! Now that I have figured it out, can I do it? When I am no longer hypnotized, will I despise myself? The problem is, I think I’m really falling for Thomas. Are my feelings for real or did I plant them myself to make it easier?

Fri. > Even with hypnosis, you can hide from your own past only so much. I think I’m beginning to remember sleeping with guys to advance my career before. I wonder if I had to hypnotize myself each time. If I am normally so matter-of-fact about forcing myself to do something that sordid, why am I feeling reluctant about it now?

Again, I spent the day with Thomas, and I am sure I really like him, whether my original attitude was influenced by hypnosis or not. He is very kind and dependable and didn’t even wake me up when I fell asleep in his office. I apologized, but he said it was OK, he had used my nap time to catch up on his work. I think the self-hypnosis tape that I listen to at night must be really long and interfering with my sleep.

Sat. > I still feel reluctant about sex with Thomas. If I do it just to get the Contract, it could ruin any chance for our long-term relationship. We had a long talk at one point about dating. Thomas wanted to know why all the hot women went for jerks—dangerous, inconsiderate guys who treated them like dirt and were just after sex. Nice guys always got relegated to “just friends”. I was trying to explain it, using some of my old girlfriends as examples, when it suddenly occurred to me that Thomas considered me a member of the “hot women” category! This triggered the realization that I had never been with a nice guy before—whenever I had been approached by someone nice I shot him down, laughing at him as bland, boring, and having nothing to offer. All the guys I’d ever been with fell into the category “jerks”, even if I couldn’t recall any of them specifically. And here I was with Thomas only because I wanted to use him!

Sun. > It has been really tough talking with my Mom, even though I’ve been staying with my Folks all week. Whenever I talk about my past or my career she gets sullen, or cries and won’t say anything. Did I tell her, pre-hypnosis, not to distract me? Maybe she knows that I’m considering sleeping with Thomas to get the Contract, and she is disgusted with me. I went to church with her again and we met Thomas. He spoke with her alone for a few minutes. Mom really approves of Thomas. What mother wouldn’t? He’s very nice and polite, he’s a member of her church, and he owns his own multi-million dollar company.

When we got home from church Mom said something like “Deborah, I realize you’re not yourself this week, but you have important choices to make. I hope you give your lifestyle some real thought. You know I’ll always love you.” I couldn’t imagine what she was talking about—maybe putting my sales career ahead of my personal life?

Mon. > I spent most of Sunday evening with Thomas. When I told him about my talk with Mom, he said “Your Mother understands more than you do.”

More face time with Thomas today. Thomas contends that you make your own joy in life—that seeking out ever-new, ever-more-extreme sensations and experiences is a sign that you are unsatisfied with yourself and need something from outside to come along and justify your life. He says that taking pleasure in simple things done well is an art, and that being truly happy isn’t difficult or complicated. I’m still not quite sure what he was getting at.

Reviewing my earlier conclusions about my self-hypnosis. If my goal was to sleep with Thomas to get the deal done, then I screwed up on a couple points. First, whatever I might do, Thomas is not the type to ever go for something like that. (I must have known that?) Second, I am falling in love with him (possibly because I told myself to?), and I would never betray him by getting him to sign the deal because of our relationship.

But if that isn’t the program, what is?

Tues. > I guess I am willing to sleep with Thomas, but not because of the Contract. I think our relationship is getting serious and has long-term potential. Asking Thomas about “us” is so embarrassing, since he is older and more experienced than me. When I get flustered, the conversation turns back to the Contract. I definitely made sure to put that front and center in my mind. Thomas said today that he intends to decide by the end of the week. When it is finally over, I will be able to sort out how I feel.

Wed. > This whole week has become confusing. Every time I try to decide what to do, the Contract pops into my head with renewed urgency. For the first time in my life the idea of marriage doesn’t seem silly—or frightening. Not going to make any commitments until I get past the Contract. (There it is again!)

Thurs. > Thomas and I sat on his deck, watching the sunset. He said that tomorrow, if he signs the deal, all my feelings would change; but at least I would still be able to remember how I felt this week. How odd! Does he really think I’m that shallow, that I’m going to dump him if I make the sale? And we both know he’s going to sign, but he won’t say it, like he’s afraid that speaking the words will break the spell. Later we held hands.

Fri. > I met Thomas in his office in the morning. His lawyer and our regional sales rep were there as well. When they finished signing everything, it was like a curtain was suddenly pulled back and I remembered everything. Then I had this odd sensation—I knew I was supposed to remember everything, but somehow I sensed that I didn’t. I couldn’t find anything missing, so to speak, but a nagging sensation that there is something more just won’t go away.

Success! I am going to make a killing on this deal. Roger will be happy. To think I agonized over whether to let Hillman fuck me! Ha!

Sun. > All my hypnotic suggestions were supposed to have worn off, but I can’t shake the feeling that something is still buried there. I’ve decided to stay a few more days with Mom & Dad, I even went to church with Mom again. I saw Thomas there, he seemed really surprised to see me. I wonder now how much he knows—or suspects—about me.

There were no more entries. As we ate cookies, Debbie explained that she had lingered in Phoenix, staying with her parents and continuing to see Hillman.

“I had lots of money. Suddenly what I’d been doing with my life seemed cheap and meaningless instead of exciting and fun. It seemed like a good opportunity for a change. I’m really happy with my life now. I don’t even miss the wild sex. Thomas has been very—trainable.”

There was nothing left for me to do but wish her the best. I regretted the loss of a fantastic sales incentive, but I can always find new ways to motivate my crew. Money, Whores, and Liquor, I always say, in that order.

A day later I got a phone call from Tom Hillman. He got right to the point.

“I heard you were out to the house again yesterday. You’re not going to make trouble for Debbie about her past, are you?”

“No, it was just a visit.” I said. (He obviously knew more about Debbie than I’d thought.) “She seems very happy.”

“By the way, I gave you the deal based on price and quality.” Hillman added. “I don’t appreciate your sales tactics.”

“Huh?” I played dumb.

“Let me explain.” He lectured again. “200-some years ago Mesmer perfected Hypnosis, and its practice in North America became more widespread than you would imagine. Some Master Hypnotists are even able to recognize and resist less capable efforts, as well as hypnotize others without them knowing it.” There was a pause; “I’m one of those people.”

“And Debbie?”

“I just made a few suggestions and nudges. She got to have a taste of the life she’d been rejecting, as well as a view of her own past from the outside. The decision was hers. If she believes her new-found virtue all resulted from her own self-hypnosis, I’m not going to argue.”

I noted to myself that Hillman was not someone to mess with. Their relationship, each trying to secretly hypnotize the other, is probably quite complex. I suspect, though, that Debbie hasn’t changed as completely as you might think. When I was turning my car around while leaving their house, I noticed that the backyard had a large dog run, with a pack of half a dozen large, male, Dobermans.

You learn something from every Big Sale, but I don’t think I can apply anything here to my future deals. I’ll just have to fall back on my old standard. Money, Whores, and Liquor, as I always say, in that order.