The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

First, Shayna

As I pulled out of Shayna, our commingled juices trickled onto the faux wood conference table. One of her sandals was under the table, the other still on her foot, her damp panties snagged on the buckle. One arm was up by her head, the other at her side. Her teased blonde hair was more of a mess than usual; her lipstick and eye makeup were smeared. All in all, she looked like one of those lurid crime scene photos from an old detective magazine. She was in a deep trance.

I felt a weird mixture of satiety and self-loathing, as though I’d just eaten a whole box of jelly donuts. I felt nothing for her; beyond her shapely curves, winsome smile, and irrepressibly good attitude, she wasn’t my type at all. She was a girl from the wrong side of the tracks who had gotten a good education and a decent job, but she still looked like a trailer park princess. Working with her, I thought, “professional.” Looking at her, I thought, “floozy.” I was never able to reconcile the two.

I reached for a box of tissues on the side table and cleaned myself up, pulled up my pants, tucked in my shirt. I pulled out a wad of tissues for her.

“Shayna, in a few moments, you’re going to awaken, remembering everything that just occurred, feeling wonderful, feeling good all over. As I count backwards from five….”

I brought her up from the depths, shaking my head at the awesome power she had conferred on me—absolute authority over her mind and body—through her unshakable belief in the power of hypnosis.

She opened her eyes, took the proffered tissues and automatically began cleaning herself up. Her face was flushed, her eyes shining. She had trouble finding her voice.

“Muh… my God, that was awesome!” Her eyes turned inward, savoring our coupling, as she pulled up her panties and started to stand, wincing a little at the red grooves on the backs of her thighs from the table edge. She smoothed down her miniskirt and put her arms around my waist, and said, “Hold me, just for a little while.”

I put my arms around her. I felt the stiff hairspray against my cheek and thanked the heavens that next Friday was her last day.

Shayna was arguably the First Wife in my harem. It wasn’t intentional, but through a series of new hires, transfers, and promotions, I had wound up with an all-female department, which was certainly unusual for the time. Everyone was quick to call it Lucky’s Harem, or just the Harem. It was the early 1970s: Guys still rubbed their secretaries’ shoulders when they thought they could get away with it. Clothes were tight, waistlines were low, hemlines were high, women were empowered, and the divorce rate was soaring.

It all started at a meeting in my office. I had laid out a project timeline on a big sheet of paper on my desk, and we were roughing out the milestones and man-hours. Shayna, Gretchen, and Ellen huddled around, while Gina, our part-time work-study high school clerk, alternated looks of awestruck respect at all that twentysomething female brainpower and moony yearning when she looked my way. She had a major crush on me, as she had confided to each of the Harem.

Shayna was cracking her gum, and it was getting to me. She often affected a vacant-eyed, affable cluelessness, chewing lazily, lips parted in a half smile.

“Shayna, would you stop that?”

“Stop what?” she asked, wide-eyed. Crack. Snap.

“Cracking your gum.”

“Oh! Tee-hee.” Crack. “Sorry.”

She really laughed like that: Tee-hee, often covering her wide grin with one hand in self-effacing contrition.

Ellen and Gretchen exchanged a look and we dove back into the project. Before long, Shayna started cracking her gum again. I stopped in midsentence and stared at her until she looked up at me.

“What? Tee-hee.”

“Oh! Sorry! Really.”

Then she got nervous because we were all looking at her and she cracked her gum again.

“Oh! Oh no! I’m really, really sorry! Tee-hee.”

I muttered, “I swear, I’m going to make you forget you ever knew how to crack your gum.”

She was a little taken aback. “How would you do that?”

“Hypnosis. I’ll make you forget you even knew how.”

“Oh wow, you know how to hypnotize people?”

They knew about my psych background, but I hadn’t laid my hypno rap on any of them—I wasn’t interested in Shayna, Ellen had some spiky, dark things going on in her head that warned me away from her, and Gretchen had only been there a couple of weeks. She was the most attractive of the three, with rosy cheeks, green eyes, a cheery disposition, frameless granny glasses perched on a cute nose, and a sweet face framed with strawberry-blonde ringlets. She exuded a Pennsylvania Dutch farm girl wholesomeness, which wasn’t surprising, since that was where she grew up.

Ellen leaned forward with interest. “Cool. I’d like to see that.”

Gretchen and Gina were intrigued too, but said nothing.

Shayna turned to Ellen and said, “Did you see that guy who’s performing at The Rock? Cal and I thought we saw you and Joe there.”

Cal was Shayna’s husband, Joe was Ellen’s boyfriend, and the performer was Gary Falcon. I’d seen his act, and he had a very physical style, working quickly, turning falling-back tests and handclasps into trances, seeking the scared-rabbit look in a subject’s face, and saying stuff like, “The Falcon’s eye is on you! Sleep!”

Ellen said, “Yeah, that was far out. We hung around after the show, when people were coming up to him. He re-hypnotized some of the people he had on stage. He had a guy and a girl doing the twist in their underwear. They thought they were in a beach blanket movie!” She laughed. “Then they were making out. They didn’t even know each other. The girl’s boyfriend was pissed!”

Gretchen and Gina looked suitably shocked. Shayna turned to me and asked, “So you can really make people do whatever you want under hypnosis?”

I smiled enigmatically and said, “Well, if that’s what they believe will happen, that’s what will happen.”

“Ooh, that sounds so cool. Hypnotize me! Make me stop cracking my gum—I wanna see that.”

The rest of the Harem chorused their encouragement. I looked at my watch. We’d covered a lot of ground, and it was almost time to knock off.

“Okay. Did you try any of the tests that Falcon does on the audience?”

“Yeah, I clasped my hands together and I couldn’t get them apart. But he didn’t pick me.”

Cool. A potentially good subject, prescreened.

My usual technique is very participatory, so subjects can use self-hypnosis for overcoming bad habits and the like, so they know how they got into the trance state, and how they can get back there themselves. I figured that Shayna was expecting something showier, more like what she’d seen on stage.

I came around to her side of the desk, and the others scooted their chairs back, giving me some room. I took her arm, held it out straight in front of her, and stroked it.

“Your arm is becoming stiff and rigid, like a steel bar welded to your body….”

I went through the stiff-arm test and she responded quickly, unable to move or bend it, I had Gretchen try to move it and Shayna’s torso stiffened, resisting mightily.

“But I can bend it easily, and it stays anywhere I place it,” I said.

I bent her arm at the elbow and positioned her hand in front of her face.

“And now as you stare into the palm of your hand, your eyes are locked onto the palm of your hand, your arm is getting heavier and heavier, sinking down towards your lap. As your eyes follow your hand down, they get heavier and heavier, wanting to close.”

I talked her arm down. Her eyes grew lidded and heavy, fluttered, and closed. I told her to relax all over and her body slumped. I deepened her trance with arm drops, having her eyes open again, and closing them. She went deep quickly, pretty much an ideal subject.

“You’re resting comfortably, very much at ease, completely attuned to the sound of my voice…”

Gretchen asked, “Can she hear us?”

“She hears you, but doesn’t need to pay attention to you now. Even if you tried to waken her, she’d just relax and go deeper.”

Gretchen said, “Shayna? Shayna? Can you hear me?”

Shayna remained slumped in her chair. Ellen, who had been staring intently at Shayna, suddenly perked up. She pointed to Gretchen, saying, “Hypnotize her now.”

Gretchen looked a little alarmed, and said, “But the gum, the gum!”

I smiled and said, “Maybe another time, huh, Gretchen?”

She nodded and smiled in relief. Ellen looked disappointed.

I turned back to Shayna, and said, “When you awaken, Shayna, you’ll have completely forgotten how to crack or snap your gum. Even if you try, you won’t be able to make it crack or snap. This will not cause you any stress or alarm, but will just be a fun way of demonstrating the power of hypnosis.”

I decided to take a chance on suggesting amnesia, since she seemed to be an excellent subject. “You won’t remember what happened while you were in this trance state until I tell you to remember.”

More or less automatically, I added, “And any time you hear the phrase, ‘Shayna, deep asleep’ you will return to the same deep, relaxed state that you are in right now. I repeated it for emphasis, then counted her awake from five to one.

“And now you’re wide awake, feeling refreshed, good from head to toe. Wide awake and alert.”

She gave a big, catlike stretch and an almost-sensuous smile, and was immediately self-conscious, since we were all staring at her.

“What?” Tee-hee.

She still had her gum in her mouth.

“Shayna, can you crack your gum? Make it snap?”

She gave a couple experimental chews, and looked puzzled. “I can’t get the bubble in there. It’s not working.”

Seeing the merriment of the other girls and my smug smile, she said, “You hypnotized me—did you really make me forget how to snap my gum?”

“Remember everything,” I said.

“Oh, wow! You did! Oooh, I was soooo deep! That was really nice!”

Ellen leaned forward and said, “Shayna, deep asleep!”

Shayna turned towards her in surprise, and I saw the first inklings of a trance forming on her face. I realized that my phrasing had been “as you hear” rather than “as I say,” since I usually worked with subjects one on one and encouraged them to use the same trigger when they induced self-hypnosis. Recognizing my blunder, I quickly put a hand on her shoulder, saying, “But of course, it only works when I say it.”

Shayna looked at me, already halfway to dreamland. I turned her towards me and said, “Shayna, deep asleep,” looking at Ellen, who glared back, clearly annoyed that I’d stymied her little power grab.

I deepened Shayna, reinforcing the “as I say” portion of the reinduction trigger, and had her open her eyes in that trancey-wakeful state and did a couple of simple tricks, like having her forget the number four and convincing her that she had two left hands. I waved a hand over her eyes and she took the cue to slump and go deeper.

Ellen had a tight, nasty smile on her face. “Make her take her clothes off.”

I was just as shocked as Gretchen and Gina, but I was seeing a new side of Ellen, and I didn’t like it much.

“I don’t think so, Ellen. We’ve had some fun, but it’s getting late and we need to wrap up.”

I reawakened Shayna, and she came out with that same languid, catlike stretch.

Little Gina spoke up. “Did you remember what happened that time?

Shayna grinned, and looked at her hands, ensuring that she had a right and a left.

“Yes… hey, you wanted him to make me take my clothes off?” She glared at Ellen.

“Yeah, why not? It’s all in good fun,” She said gruffly. She stood up, saying, “I’ve gotta go meet Joe,” and left.

Shayna humphed and looked irritated. She’d worked with Ellen for a while, and probably knew her dark side much better than I did.

Gina surprised me by asking, “But if he had told you to take your clothes off, would you have?” She looked embarrassed.

Shayna shrugged and said, “I guess I’d have to. I was hypnotized.”

I was glad that Ellen wasn’t here to hear that. Gretchen said, “But that can’t be. You can’t make anybody do anything that they don’t want to do.”

Shayna looked arch and said, “Who said I didn’t want to?” Then she laughed at herself and said, “No, not really. But when you’re hypnotized, it feels like you just automatically do whatever you’re told.”

Gretchen asked me, “But is it like that for everyone?”

“Not necessarily,” I said. “But Shayna is an excellent subject and it appears to fit her belief system. And experts have been proving both sides of the argument for decades, maybe centuries, going back to Mesmer and the French court.”

“But what do you think?”

“I think, given the right conditions and sufficient time, that a halfway decent subject can be made to do things under hypnosis that she would not normally do.”

Shayna nodded in assent. Gretchen mulled that over. We chatted a bit more as they prepared to leave. She and Shayna walked out together as Gina and I rolled up the big chart and sorted other papers into folders.

She looked up at me with big, brown, oh-mighty-shaman-do-with-me-what-you-will eyes, dragging her feet, clearly hoping that I’d hypnotize her. She looked like she’d go under with nothing more than a wave of my hand or a word. But hell, she was fifteen or sixteen and she already had a ferocious crush on me. Having her “in my power” was the last thing I needed, even if it was what she wanted most. I checked my watch and acted like I’d forgotten to make a phone call. As I picked up the handset I waved to her, saying, “See you tomorrow afternoon!”

She looked a little forlorn, but left.

Minutes later, Shayna popped back in.

“That was intense! Sooo awesome! I feel all refreshed and energized—I hate to go home.”

She had a double reason for hating to go home. She and her husband Cal fought constantly. He was about the most rednecked guy I’d ever met. He didn’t trust anyone who didn’t work with their hands; the rest of us were liberal eggheads, hell-bent on subverting his wife and ruining his beer-soaked dream of a subservient, doting Shayna.

The other reason was that she was having a torrid affair with one of the engineers, Rick. She was sure that no one knew, but I thought it was fairly obvious. He was probably working late tonight.

“So you enjoyed being hypnotized.” I didn’t phrase it as a question. “And you’d like to do it again.”

“Oh yeah. Tee-hee. Definitely!”

I tossed a couple of folders in my briefcase and she walked with me as far as the lobby. I headed home to my own failing marriage.