The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Arrgh!” I groaned at the object of my consternation. Yet again I seem to have gotten in over my head. I could have just gotten the MBA, but no, I go for a Master’s in Marketing. The book in front of me was Marketing Strategy Design and Analysis. I considered it Slow Torture and Certain Doom.

While I stewed in my personal hell, Mark was cooking. With luck it might be identifiable. He heard my outburst and called out, “Hold on, it’ll be ready soon.” He knew damn well what I was complaining about.

“I’m counting the minutes,” I replied. A distraction would be good anyway. There were no burning smells or plumes of smoke, very comforting. Mark was sensing a lot of anxiety from me lately and started doing things. He’s good to me, even if it’s a little clingy.

He emerged from the kitchen. “Ready,” he said. I hopped away from the couch and my troubles. Mark chose to break in his wok tonight. I fully intended to help him or at lest look over his shoulder, but then distribution structures and statistical variances got in the way. The next thing I knew, soup’s on and I was at my wit’s end.

He served, we ate. I knew it. After a few tentative bites, I figured out what was wrong. Mark threw everything in at once without regard to the cooking time. Then again, it was all vegetable and I could stand a tough bit or two. My appetite wavered, however, as I thought about school. He noticed me pushing carrots around my plate. “It’s pretty bad, isn’t it” he offered.

“Uh, no,” I said. “I’m just thinking about the exciting world of forecasts and data analysis.”

“Welcome to my world,” he deadpanned.

“Oh, ha ha ha. It’s like statistics on steroids. I’m starting to feel like Barbie.”

Mark looked at me quizzically. “Why’s that? Top heavy, easily detachable head?” Mark fixed a lustful gaze upon me. “Impossibly beautiful?”

I smiled a little. “No, it was one of the most infamous toy ideas, a talking Barbie. In the attempt to make her sound like an average girl, one of her phrases was, ‘Math is hard.’ Eventually, someone figured out that it was sexist and just plain mean.”

“But you’re good at math,” he said.

“I’m okay, but I’m no geeky engineering type.” Mark adopted a wounded expression. “Studying that book is like reading through cheesecloth. It’s written so that I need to repeat every paragraph two or three times.” There wasn’t a whole lot of exposition, just dry interpretation and tedious examples.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” said Mark. “I’ve scraped through a few courses in my time.”

“This is grad school. Scraping through is a ‘B,’” I explained. “I can see it now, it’ll be just like my early college days, a pot of coffee, a box of doughnuts and a case of highlighter pens.” It was a plan that kept me on the honor roll and virtually date free for four years.

“Uh-huh,” he said. “Sugar and caffeine are always conducive to learning. Maybe later I could drill you instead.”

Ewww. “As tempting as that is not, I think you can go drill yourself.”

Mark looked crestfallen, then amused. I figured it out a moment before he said, “Drill in the academic sense. I ask, you answer.”

“Sorry,” I said.

He continued. “Maybe some clothes are shed.”

“It’s not like that,” I explained. “There’s a project and I have to learn how to do things. Now, I know you computer people just have to be able to print out your name ten times and compress dirty pictures.”

“Maybe do all that market analysis for corporate know nothings,” he snapped back.

I got up and walked over to Mark. Putting my hands on his shoulders and leaning in close behind him, I said, “Did I hurt your feelings, dear?”

“Yes you did,” he pouted. “Go back to your books, I’ll clean up.”

That was cruel, he cast me to the wolves. I skulked back over to the couch.

I read and wrote notes. There were also study guides and some projections, surveys and other paperwork. The sounds of the kitchen invaded my space. Clattering, scraping and rushing water noises continued for a while. Mark came out, all smiles and asked, “What’cha doin’?”

“Fuming. Any more good questions?”

“No, just watching. You know you’re beautiful when you’re perplexed,” he said.

I sighed. “Then I must be absolutely drop dead gorgeous.” I hate feeling dumb, it usually makes me want to give up. That’s the reason for sugar and caffeine. They provide that jittery feeling that allows me to handle the feelings of inadequacy.

Mark plopped down on the other end of the couch. Patting the middle cushion, he said, “Okay, put down that book and get up here.” I did, swinging my legs into his lap and resting my head on the arm of the couch. He rested his forearms along my shins. “You are going to tie yourself in knots,” he stated. “I’m getting nervous just being around you.”

“And how will you be helping me?” I was curious.

“I’ll make sure you take care of yourself,” he answered, removing my socks. Mark began rubbing my feet.

“Ahh, seems like you’re still taking care of me,” I observed.

“Come on,” he said. “Close your eyes and relax for a second.” Why not? I put my glasses on the table and closed my eyes, resting my hands on my stomach. He continued. “So, nice weather we’re having.”

I laughed a little. “Yes, very mild. Kind of bland, like the conversation.”

“Okay, okay,” he relented. “Then tell me about college. Not about the class. Tell me what it’s like to be on a campus again.”

That was a tough one. “Kind of a culture shock,” I said. My undergrad years were at another school entirely. Here I was, a 26 year old, already back in academia. I was old compared to the undergrads who couldn’t even buy for themselves but a kid in relation to the other grads going in for second and third careers.

“Good or bad?”

I thought for a second. “Pretty good. There’s a different pace than before. Back then it was a claustrophobic experience. My old campus was like a prison, everyone wanted to get away whenever possible.” I remember spending most of my time in a dorm room and that made me even more stir crazy.

Mark pressed on. “And now?”

“It’s a place I want to go,” I said. “The surroundings are very pretty, but lately I see it mostly on nights and weekends.” A sigh escaped from my lips. " I find myself wanting to corny things like sit under a tree and read, you know, when it’s nicer outside.”

“Oh, that’s not so bad,” he countered. “We never stop and smell the roses. Let’s say that the sky is clear, the air is warm you are out in the sunshine blanketing the campus. What do you see, Julie?”

“I see grass, trees, the road and the parking lot.” That’s not quite right. If I were looking for a peaceful spot, it wouldn’t be there. I spoke again. “When I walk a little further, I reach a place where the pavement just disappears from my view. It’s quiet, like I’m the only one around.”

“Good,” Mark said. “Now imagine yourself sitting under one of those trees.” I was aware of him shifting over on the couch and propping my legs up on his lap. “What do you feel, Julie?”

I slipped back into my virtual quad. “Um, there’s the cool grass underneath me and I can feel the bark through my sweater a little. The air is fresh and clean.” I thought a little more. “A breeze, soft and gentle, is flowing across the grass. My hair brushes against my shoulders, my face.”

Mark’s fingers gently grazed my cheek, I think. Maybe it was the wind. “Very good,” he said. “So calm, so peaceful outside. Hear the sound of the wind. Look up at the branches and the leaves.” Reflexively, my eyelids twitched. I felt his hand on my forehead. “Eyes closed, hon,” he said. “Try to count the leaves, Julie.”

“Okay.” I concentrated at the bottom fringe where the foliage was sparse. “One, two, three, four, five.”

“Keep counting. The leaves fill your mind.”

“Twelve, thirteen, fourteen.”

“The more you count, the more relaxed you become. Further and further, more and more relaxed.”

“Thirty-three...thirty-four...Uh, thirty-five.”

“Deeper and deeper down, ever so tired,” he said. It got pretty hazy after that. I really must have been distracted. He managed to lead me under without my realizing it. By the time I was counting leaves, my body felt like so much dead weight. Mark continued telling me to relax and go deeper. I think I heard myself reach one hundred, maybe two. His voice was distant, like the buzz of insects on a hot summer day. Occasionally, I paid attention to some of the questions he asked.

“Can you hear me, Julie?”

“Yes,” I replied thickly.

“Good girl. I’d like to ask you some questions. You trust me, don’t you?”

“A little,” I responded truthfully. I could almost hear him smile.

“Very good. I want you to be completely honest. You won’t lie to me.”

“No, of course not.” Again, I lost track of his words. Maybe he didn’t say anything.

“Julie, I need you to answer honestly. What did you really think of dinner?”

Without thinking, I said, “Waay undercooked. You have to add those things in stages.” Mark was probably more turned on than upset. He got a big kick out of getting me to be really forthright during hypnosis. My feelings of being tricked were the last I had before completely drifting off.

I awoke curled up on the couch. Mark sat in a chair facing the TV. I did a quick check. No, my clothes were undisturbed. I thought that maybe he tried to “relax” me instead of relax me. Putting my glasses back on, I saw him watching the news.

“Hey!” I called out. Mark looked over at my outburst. “What did you do? I have to get home tonight.”

“All I did was let you sleep. You woke up when you were ready.”

“Don’t need sleep,” I said. “Need stress. I can’t hang around here all night.”

“Why not? Stay here tonight,” he pleaded. “Then you can get back tomorrow morning.”

“I don’t know. There are some errands,” I protested, standing up.

“I know, but you have to remember to take care of yourself.”

Hmmm, maybe Mark was right. I yawned, saying, “Okay, I’ll just go lay down on the bed.”

“Sure,” he said. “Good night, sleepyhead.” I needed to rest. I took of my clothes and put on one of Mark’s tee shirts. Sleep came as soon as my head hit the pillow.

That night and the next morning were the last times I saw him for a few days. My mornings were work related, most of the afternoons I spent in a classroom and nights were study. I thought that I might end up burning the midnight oil, but usually there was no need. I guess the advantage of being a little older is better concentration. For the most part, I could read something once, maybe twice, take my notes and move on. Lately, I went to bed at a decent hour and woke up less sluggish and more focused.

Of course, I let other things slide. One morning a call came in.

“Oh, hi, Mark.” I should have expected some kind of check up call.

“Any plans for lunch?”

“Well,” I hesitated. “Not really. I mean, I guess I could go out.”

“Have you eaten actual food lately?” He was insistent.

“Does it count if there’s a nutrition label filled with zeroes?”

“Geez,” he groaned. “I bet you can tell me how many cupcakes are in the vending machine right now.”

I chuckled. “Yes, but I can’t take home work with me for the time being.”

“Okay, I know. Just remember to take care of yourself. Eat something that didn’t come out of an industrial press.”

Maybe I should go out. I hadn’t even seen Mark for the better part of a week. “All right, you wore me down.”

I wanted Italian, but Mark thought that I’d load up on carbs. He continued to mother me at the Greek restaurant. At one point, he actually asked, “So, how you doing?”

“Just fine,” I answered nonchalantly.

“How’s class?”

“Better. Only a few weeks to go.”

“Still busy then,” he concluded.

“Yeah,” I said as an apology. “Maybe I can come by this weekend.”

“No worries. If you need to prepare, you need to prepare.” He was very understanding, suspiciously so. I didn’t worry much about it then.

The weekend came and went without any face to face time. After another week of missed dates, I reached the next step of my project, the presentation. I was now assembling data for my forecast model. The work was tedious, but things didn’t get really bad until Wednesday night. I made some dumb mistake and had to trace it back. I was embarrassed. I was annoyed. I was frustrated, and for some inexplicable reason, I was horny. Well, the reason wasn’t that inexplicable, just the timing.

I dialed the phone. “Hello, dear,” I said, all sugar and spice. “Mind if I come over? You want to come by here? Well, it’s kind of a mess. No, that’s completely free of debris. Okay, I’ll put it on. I’ll see you soon.”

Poor guy, I’d feel sorry about my lack of attention if he hadn’t used the phrase “booty call” three times that night. He decided to sleep over and I finally recovered from my little setback. I decided that having Mark around was better than not.

As the deadline neared, I took a more philosophical approach. The project looked good, my presentation was well rehearsed. Mark said he almost understood it, quite a compliment. Everything started to click.

I am, however, a worrier by nature and when my presentation was moved up a day I got nervous. Mark told me not to fret about it so much and that getting it over with sooner was a good thing. Good thing, that is, until the instructor tore into some of the first presentations. Apparently, this would not be an easy grade.

I got to the classroom early, setting up all the charts and stuff with the media assistant. When that was finished, I went out in the hall to clear my head. I was concerned and nervous and, oh come on! I was aroused, sexually. Being on edge was one thing, I’ve handled that. Being hot was a big problem. I needed to alleviate one feeling, at least. In the rest room, I finally worked out what was happening to me as I hung up my skirt in the stall. It was those words, “take care of yourself.” “There’s gonna be hell to pay,” I thought while fingering myself. Whatever programming Mark gave me was effective. After I checked my composure in the mirror, I walked out much more confident.

The presentation went well. I answered all the questions, only slipped up once and didn’t touch myself at all. The instructor said, “Thank you, Ms. Stark,” and I went back to my seat thinking of Mark. He wasn’t so bad. I decided to only inflict a killing blow, painless and quick.

Later that evening, he opened the door and turned on the lights, finding me already there on his couch. “You little bastard,” I said, only half joking.

He looked shocked. Maybe he thought I wouldn’t know. “Did something, um, bad happen?”

“No. Your little Juliebot worked just fine.” I marched up to him. “Except that you’re trying to get me off on command,” I said, slapping him on the arm.

“Hey! I was just helping you remember to take care of yourself,” he protested.

Lousy trigger effect! I was all hot and bothered again. In fact, the thought of him controlling me was just making me more excited. “All right,” I said. “You win. Better enjoy it, because I’m going to get you.” I suppose resisting my desires was possible, but I like my guy to be a little scared. Besides, revenge is a dish best served cold.

I’m awful, but I’m not sorry. Julie is pretty stubborn and she wasn’t about to take my advice. I learned long ago that the brain works a lot better on a full eight hours of sleep. If there’s one thing I know about it’s putting Julie to sleep.

There were other reasons, too. When she went back to school, Julie adopted a different look by coloring her hair darker, a lot darker. It was black. Even in the sunlight, there were no shades of brown, only deep violet. Normally, I’d consider it overkill, an attempt to blend in with college girls. It wasn’t. She actually looked really hot.

Julie wasn’t much older than the average senior. She also had the advantages of wisdom, poise and clear skin. In my college days, grad school girls were considered unattainable goddesses who were way too good to date undergrads. Julie’s new look brought to mind a grad student I lusted after. She taught my art class and I fantasized about some private tutoring.

That’s why the situation was erotically ironic. I wanted her badly and she was too busy lately. That was not quite true. She managed to spend time on complaining and stressing. Julie needed an outlet and a better study plan, and I had one of my “two birds with one stone” revelations.

It started that night, after I finished playing with my wok. She was lying there looking so peaceful and relaxed and I just couldn’t help it. In retrospect, Julie’s current reaction was inevitable. The final trigger was my temporary reprieve. The more pissed she got, the more aroused she got.

After pushing me into the bedroom, she said, “Get your pants off.” I did and watched as she carefully removed her business suit and folded it on a table. I always feel like a pig compared to her. Julie prowled over in her underwear and ripped off my ten dollar shirt, perfectly aware of how cheap it was.

She practically threw me on the bed and took off her panties. I thought she was going to shove them in my mouth for a second. I worked her bra off just before she pinned me down. While riding me, she cursed in my ear huskily about what a little prick I was and what she was going to do to me. Boy, if you want dangerous sex, try it with a woman who’s perfectly capable of ignoring any given posthypnotic suggestion. Personally, I was in heaven. It’s kinda cool when Julie is the boss in bed.

After having her way with me, Julie seemed much more conversational.

“So what did you do?” She wanted to know.

“Nothing really weird,” I said. “I just made it clear that personal health is more conducive to study than long hours on a short fuse.”

“How does turning me into a slut accomplish that? Do you know what I did in the bathroom before the presentation?”

“No, but I’d love to hear about it in detail,” I joked. “Really, I’m sorry. I just happen to find that when I get stressed out, I get horny. So, if you get amorous, I could gauge your anxiety level. Besides, it one kind of tension with easy relief.”

“Phooey,” she replied. “We both know what you were getting out of that.”

I reverted to my favorite mantra. “Julie, nothing happened that you didn’t want to happen.” I smiled.

“Just remember that later on,” she said ominously. I had to force my grin.

Things got back to normal as I waited for the other shoe to drop. The next semester was about a month away and there were no immediate plans for more study assistance. All in all, Julie was a good sport.

After a couple of weeks, she got an envelope from the college. I was at her place when she opened it. Looking on, I saw her face light up as she exclaimed, “Cool! I got an ‘A.’”

“Eyyy,” I said in a terrible Fonzie impression.

Julie hugged me. Whispering in my ear, she said, “I guess I have to forgive you.” Suddenly I was pressed against the edge of the couch as she removed her glasses and kissed me. “Your heart was in the right place, among other things.”

Gazing into those impossibly deep brown eyes, I could see that she was perfectly all right with my actions. The outcome of the class probably went a long way. “You’re my girl,” I said. “I do what I can to look out for you.”

“I can admit that I was a total wreck. Being tired and cranky all the time was no fun. It certainly wasn’t fun for you,” she teased.

Cuddled up against me, I really couldn’t see her as much of a bother. I made my own admission. “I should have been less mysterious about the whole thing.” I put on my best hangdog expression.

“Still, I was in a bad place,” said Julie. “You know what it’s like to be all stressed out and frazzled. I’ll bet it was even more difficult for you with all the worrying you did about me.”

“Well,” I started.

She stopped me. “Sure it was. Thinking about me day after day, so concerned, so frustrated. As I relaxed, you were more keyed up.”

“Uh-huh.” I guess that was true.

“You deserve to relax, you have to. Just lie back and look at me. Look in my eyes and relax.” That was easy. Julie always had a way of calming me down. It was a very nice feeling. Wait, she did it! She caught me off guard. I tried to get up and break contact, but I became sharply aware as I shifted my weight that her thigh was pressed against my groin. The debilitating sensation rendered me helpless on the couch. Staring up into the deep pools of her eyes, I felt the resistance drain from me.

“That’s it, dear. You are so open, peaceful, weightless. The relaxation flows through you. It moves aside all the tension and troubles.” I sighed as it became difficult to focus. Julie had the most compelling eyes. Saying they were brown was an understatement. There was a depth only revealed by gazing into them, like the way a person’s vision slowly acclimates to a dark room. I was acclimated to being her slave.

“Deeper and deeper. More and more relaxed. You can barely keep your eyes open, but you can’t break away. My eyes keep you suspended from sleep. I’m going to close my eyes, Mark, and the link will break, sending you into that deep, deep sleep.” She blinked quickly on each word, saying, “One, two, three.”

I was gone.

I looked at my watch. Uh-oh, I’d better hurry. I had to meet with one of my instructors. Typically, it would be an occasion of little importance and even less interest, but this was different. I had an appointment with Ms. Grant, the hottest teacher I’ve ever seen.

At her office, I felt a little slovenly in my T-shirt and jeans, but I wasn’t invited to a lot of formal parties and my wardrobe reflected that. Although this was just some meeting to discuss my paper, I already groomed myself way more for her than anybody else. It was so dumb, I had like zero chance with her. Besides being smarter and more attractive than I was, she was also a better human being.

I knocked on her door. “Come in, " she said. Walking in, I was more than a little dazzled by her. Raven hair cascaded down to her shoulders and fanned around a tweed jacket. The outline of her chest was evident from the tight dark red turtleneck she wore under that jacket. She looked up at me, wearing the eyeglasses that I always thought were really sophisticated. “Hello, Mr. Thomas,” she said warmly, “Please sit down.”

I sat further away from her than I normally did in class, but it felt much more intimate. “I must say that it’s rewarding to teach a student such as yourself,” she began. Seeing my confusion, she said, “Really, Mark, engineering students shy away from art classes. Not only do you do the work, I also see a real interest in the material.” I hoped I wasn’t blushing, though the heat in my face indicated otherwise. Some of my ‘interest’ was fueled by lust. Much of the time, my intense concentration was devoted to mentally undressing her.

“Uh, thanks,” I stammered. I knew this was a conference, but she seemed awfully complimentary. Not knowing how to proceed, my choice was sucking up. “You have a way of making it accessible to everyone, Ms. Grant.” That was terrible, it actually sounded like sucking up.

“Thank you,” she said. Ms. Grant removed her jacket, stepping way from her desk to stand even closer to me. She wore a dark skirt almost to her ankles, accenting shiny black boots. I understood now all that stuff about it being better to conceal than reveal. “Mark, you may have a logical mind, but you posses a painter’s soul.”

“Uh,” I said, literally dumbstruck. What the hell was going on here? Ms. Grant was a lot more generous with praise in class than any of my other teachers, but now she was practically coming on to me. The absurdity of my conclusion made me smile.

“I’m sure you’ll go on to great successes as one of the architects of society,” she added. “Just don’t forget about the more sensual aspects of life.” Her hands rested on my shoulders, making it necessary to cross my legs.

“M—Ms. Grant,” I stammered.

“Call me Mandy,” she insisted. “There’s just something about you, Mark. A beast lies beneath that placid exterior. I’ve seen you looking at me in class, a star of one of your fantasies, no doubt.” She put her hand on my leg and moved it aside, revealing the extent of my excitement. “Don’t worry, it’s perfectly natural.”

This was the greatest day of my life! Even if I died right now, I’d be happy. Of course, I was reduced to incoherence. “I, um, er, don’t know, um, Mandy.”

“Tell me, have you ever made love to a real woman?” She started pulling off my shirt.

“Sort of,” I replied, voice cracking.

“Some girl probably let you get on top of her and have some fun, but I doubt one’s ever taken the lead.” The harder I got, the more the rest of my turned to jelly. Mandy took me by the hand and led me to a comfortable looking leather chair. “Get your pants off,” she said in an oddly familiar way.

I sat on the chair, blue jeans still around my ankles. “First things first,” she said, eyeing my erection. She pulled off her top, exposing what had to be the most perfect breasts I’ve seen in my limited experience. As she moved down, I could feel her hard nipples along my legs. Her tongue made contact and produced an almost electric shock within me.

“Ohhh, Mandy,” I groaned as she took me into her mouth. I ran my hands through her dark tresses as she continued her delicate ministrations. I heard and felt her humming, “Mmm,” and I emptied myself into her throat, wishing I could have held out longer.

Mandy smiled. “You have a lot of enthusiasm. Now it’s time to learn control.” She reached back and removed her long skirt. She wasn’t wearing panties. All Ms. Grant had on were her glasses and her boots. She bent down and kissed me, tongue and all. Knowing what was just in her mouth, I returned the gesture with a little hesitation. Any taste was obscured by the tingling sensations running along my tongue and down my throat.

Mandy proceeded to straddle my legs, mashing me into the armless chair. I was already hard again. “Just lay back and experience every moment of this,” she suggested.

I’ve heard that pleasure can only be understood by someone who also understands pain. I was immersed in both sensations. Mandy teased me mercilessly, brushing her hot pussy toward me in agonizing degrees. Also, the chair was nowhere near as comfortable as I thought. Agony and ecstasy alternated through my nervous system until the endorphins from my orgasm kicked in.

Mandy collapsed on top of me, returning me to discomfort. She then asked, “So, who’s taking care of whom?”

I blinked a couple of times. After the wave of disorientation passed, I realized what was going on. It was Julie on top of me, waiting for my subconscious mind to stop playing the game of misdirection that put me back in college. As I returned to reality, I felt every bit of the back trouble in the decade since those days. “Ow, ow, ow, ow!”

Julie got up. “So, the hair,” she said, brushing it back with her fingers. “Does it really make me seem like another woman?” Apparently, she did a little snooping in my memories.

I laughed. “If this is your idea of revenge, I’ve got to be a lot less considerate.”

“Are you kidding?” Julie had an evil glint in her eyes. “I’m just getting started, bone boy.”

With that, I heard barking, my own. This was going to be interesting. Well, there’s really no time to think about that now, I have to lap up something between my mistress’s legs.