The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

He sat down on the hotel-room bed, closed his eyes and took a deep breath for what must have been the thirteenth time in the 45 minutes since he arrived at the Marriott in this overheated central Texas town. He was on the verge of hyperventilating again in anticipation of the appointment that was now just an hour away.

Mark stood up and checked himself in the mirror one last time. He was wearing blue jeans, a fairly new Grateful Dead T-shirt and black open-backed clogs without socks. He thought he looked more or less genuine in his slacker/hippie getup, not that he’d really know—the outfit was a far cry from the khakis and button-down collars that made up the bulk of his wardrobe.

The out-of-character outfit was part of the day’s governing conceit: This wasn’t him. This appointment wasn’t something he would ever contemplate doing. And yet, after five years of Internet chatting, here he was—his first face-to-face meeting with a hypnotist. It wasn’t that simple, of course—what ever is? He was off to a neighborhood Starbucks for a rendezvous with a dominant, gay, erotic hypnotist.

There is no greater testament to the power of a fetish.

Of course, they had each sworn to one another that this visit was just a meeting between friends. This wasn’t some contrived mcstories.com fantasy. There would be no trancing in the store, no seductions. But Mark knew full well that online promises weren’t worth the bandwidth they were typed into. He knew his submissive side was strong, but he had no idea how strong—it had never been tested.

As he sat at the small table for two, he wondered why he had agreed to meet at a Starbucks in the first place—he wasn’t a coffee drinker, let alone a designer coffee drinker, and so always felt a bit out of place at these trendy-yet-ubiquitous lounges. Still, he could always get a cup of herbal tea—he chose passion fruit today—bury his nose in a paper and try to exude confidence. At least this location, in a business district near the state capitol on a Saturday afternoon, was pretty quiet.

He sat back and crossed his legs—crossed his knees, really, achieving a tight angle that was much more common among women in skirts. The maneuver allowed him to lift one of his feet from the ground, raising his black open-backed clog to a point where it could be clearly seen by people at the counter—the shoe was the “tell” he had told Jay to look for.

The clogs had been part of their online chats for nearly as long as they had known each other. His shoe and foot fetish was one of the first secrets Mark confided in Jay, and the hypnotist used that knowledge well, turning wearing the shoes into a trigger that helped erode his will.

He looked down at the shoes, and briefly wondered if they’d even carry him out of the store if he chickened out. Unconvinced, he nonetheless began sizing up his potential avenues of escape. Maybe he’d be stood up. In some ways, that would be a relief. He also still had time to stand Jay up. Then he noticed the customer turning from the counter, latte in hand. He was unmistakable—thin, close-cropped blond hair, dressed casually in canvas slacks, sneakers, tailored sweater—and in the time it took to fully scope out his outfit, the watcher had become the watched. Jay spotted his clogs, smiled gently and approached the table.

“This seat taken?” he said, a note of anxiousness in his voice.

Mark pulled his feet back under the table, and began to open his mouth to speak, only to notice a massive lump crowding his throat. He started to stand, but immediately sank back down when he felt the pressure tenting the front of his pants. He lifted his chin to look at the new arrival, fought to swallow and eventually choked out a “no.” in response.

Jay smiled more warmly as he sat down. “Thank you for coming. It is really nice to meet you,” he said quietly.

Mark blushed involuntarily as he soaked in the other man’s clear gratitude. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you came, too.”

“Nice shoes,” Jay said, nudging them lightly with his own feet.

Mark swallowed the lump down again. “Thanks,” he said, he looked down at the table and subtly tried to wipe the burgeoning nervous tears from his eyes. He took another deep breath and through his mouth with some force, trying to clear the palate. “I’m sorry. I’m just so anxious. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

Jay briefly considered squeezing Mark’s knee under the table, but quickly thought better of it, pulling his body back, away from the risk of any even accidental physical contact, and put both hands on the table, lightly squeezing Mark’s hands before letting them go.

“It’s OK. Try to relax. We can just chat. How was your flight?”

Mark welcomed the opportunity to tell a “dispassionate” story, and as the talk continued they both relaxed and laughed more easily. They talked about life, jobs, writing, and the frustrating pit of inconsistent service that was Yahoo! All of the chatting had clearly turned them into friends.

After 75 minutes, the second rounds of drinks had been drained, and their conversation had gone about as far as it could go. Mark smiled at how silly he had been. Jay was a perfectly nice, fun gentleman who exuded harmlessness, as well as a bit of loneliness. Mark had been scared of the meeting, worrying that his online “Master” might try to slip him a mickey—before the meeting, he had plotted out elaborate cover stories and schemes to make sure his drink was never unattended. All of those anxieties seemed ancient history now. He couldn’t imagine that he’d have reason to ever see Jay in person again, but he also didn’t have any reason why he wouldn’t.

“Well, I guess you probably have to go,” Jay said, picking up on Mark’s body language. “Thanks again for making time to meet with me on this trip. I appreciate it. Hey, I almost forgot—take a look at this.”

With a quick, smooth motion, Jay whipped a pendant from his pocket and let the chain dangle from his hand over the table. At the point of the chain was a little crystal charm in the shape of a high-heeled pump. Mark took a deep breath as he looked at it.

Mark’s mouth was dry, his heart was pounding. He knew he had to get up and get away. He knew he could. And yet he didn’t want to.

“How do you feel?” Jay asked quickly, using one of their newer triggers, a line they had only incorporated into their chats in the last six months.

Mark exhaled audibly and his tense shoulders relaxed a little. He tried to respond directly. “Uh, a little squishy?”

Jay stifled a smile. He nudged his finger and the pendant began to swing gently. He leaned in closer and began whispering. “Keep watching. Relax. Breathe deeply. How do you feel?”

Mark’s eyes were blinking longer and slower now. “Niiiice,” was all he could manage.

“Very good. In a moment, I will put away the pendant, and you will awaken fully. You will not remember it, but you will feel very comfortable with me and you will agree to anything I suggest. Now, awaken.” Jay scooped the pendant up with his free hand and returned it to his pocket. Mark slouched back in his chair and blinked a few times as his breathing rate returned to normal. Jay glanced around the room to see if anyone had watched his act, but no one looked up.

“All right. Shall we?” Jay said, motioning for Mark to get up.

“Um, sure, thanks again for meeting me. It was nice to get to know you,” Mark said, extending his hand for a shake. Jay touched his elbow and gestured for Mark to take the lead. He walked deliberately, focusing on each step, a bit like a diner who’d had too much to drink.

As they reached the transom, Mark paused for one last good bye, but Jay cut him off. “Hey, would you like to see my place?” he asked. “It’s a quick walk.”

Mark agreed immediately. It would be fun to know where Jay’s chats were coming from. Mark was mostly silent on the three-block walk, concentrating on following Jay’s every step. Jay clearly had a spring in his step as he pointed out buildings and houses he liked, and Mark was content to listen to his “tour guide” and glide along, mostly keeping his eyes downcast to watch the pavement and follow Jay’s sneakers. They reached the multifamily Victorian where Jay rented the second floor, and he led the way up the stairs.

Jay opened the door, held it for Mark to enter, then stepped up close behind his soon-to-be-thrall.

“Why don’t you go under?” he said, using the first trigger they’d ever used. Mark slouched and Jay took him by the hand and guided him to the couch.

“Good boy. Relax for me. You’ve pleased me by coming here to see me. You’ve done so well. Do you have any appointments this afternoon?”

“No, sir,” Mark replied, falling into the same rhythm they used in their online chats.

“Good boy. Why did you come here?”

“You sounded like you could use a friend, sir,” Mark said with a dispassionate honesty that touched Jay.

“What do you want to do?”

“Obey,” Mark answered.

“Good boy,” Jay told him, then launched a series of deepening exercises, starting with a descending elevator.

“Are you deeply relaxed boy?

“Yessss, sir,” Mark replied,

“Are you aroused?”

Mark’s limp neck twitched a little, letting his head roll on his shoulders as he hissed out a response. “Yesss.”

“Good boy. I want to see your cock. Stand up and remove your pants for me.”

Mark complied without any hesitation.

“You want to stroke your cock, don’t you? Go ahead. I want you to relax with every stroke. Deeper and deeper for me. Deeper and deeper. Obedient and horny. Good boy.” Drop to your knees. Keep stroking. Nice and slow. Feeling so horny, so hard, but so relaxed and obedient. You are completely controlled by me.”

Mark’s breathing became a bit more ragged as he rocked back on his heels. Breathing in and rising each time his hand reached the head of his cock, then exhaling and physically deflating as it returned to the base.”

Jay sat silent for five whole minutes, watching Mark writhe, wordless but not silent. His gasps and heavy breathing confirming the power of Jay’s control. Then he stood and left the room. He stripped leisurely in his bedroom, releasing his own manhood in the process, and sitting on the edge of his bed to lace up a pair of tall Doc Martens boots. Then he stood, naked but for his boots and returned to stand before Mark.

“Feel your arousal building now, boy. So deep in trance. Enslaved. Obedient. You want to cum for me, boy. Don’t you? You know that cumming on my command will seal your devotion to me. Look at my eyes and answer”

Mark fought to raise his face, without missing a beat of his stroking. His neck was weak and his head lolled around, but he managed to choke out his answer in a whisper, “yes, master.”

“Very good. Cum on my boots, boy. Cum NOW!”

Mark came in spasms, long, thick streams of milky whiteness spewing out onto the greased leather Docs. His back collapsed into a spent slouch as the energy drained from him.

‘Good boy, stay in that position, but bring your mouth to my boots. You may lick them clean.”

As Mark obeyed without missing a beat, Jay finally set to relieving his own engorged member. It didn’t take long. As Mark moved from the left boot to the right, Jay released, sending ribbons of cum across Mark’s back like lashings.

Jay knelt down behind Mark, and tenderly began to massage his back, rubbing the jism in like a sticky moisturizer, luxuriating in the feel of his new slave’s skin.

“I’m so glad you came. Now, let’s discuss how you’ll stay..."”