The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Gretchen’s Fantasy

Tom’s pickup was still waiting on some obscure part, so I continued to drive Gretchen back and forth. She was using self-hypnosis to reduce her tension, but things were not going well at home. As we drove towards her apartment, I could see that she was working up to asking me something important. Finally she blurted, “How can you tell if a woman is frigid?”

“Frigid? Do you think you’re frigid?”

She sighed, and the words tumbled out. “Tom keeps telling me that I am. Every night he picks at me. I spend too much time at work. I don’t keep the house the way he likes. I don’t love him like I used to. I’m too big for my britches. On and on. Then when we go to bed, he’s all over me. If I don’t respond like a hot little sex kitten, he says I’m frigid. He wakes me up in the middle of the night, and if I tell him I’m tired, that I need my sleep, I’m frigid.”

“Go on,” I said.

“But I think I believe him. I don’t feel anything for him. I can’t imagine being with anybody, now.”

“But it wasn’t always like that, was it?”

“No, when we first… you know, it was so outrageous, so wonderful! For both of us. Now I can’t even remember what it felt like. It’s like I’m, I don’t know, dead inside.”

I said nothing, and after a few moments she continued.

“Lucky, I need to get it back. I want to feel again. I know I sound like a cheap romance novel, but I want to love again. I know in my heart that it’s over between me and Tom and that it’s just a matter of time and breaking up with the least pain. But I feel like he’s drained something out of me, left me dry, empty.”

“But how about sexual fantasies? Don’t you have some?”

She sighed again. “It’s almost as if I have to force myself. There’s nothing there.”

She looked imploringly at me. “Can you help? Give me some suggestions that will at least let me feel like I’m capable of loving another man?”

“Let me think,” I said.

I drove on, and instead of turning into her apartment complex, I pulled into the park across the road and found a shady spot.

“I’d like to try something,” I said. “I’m going to take you on a little journey inside your mind. I don’t think you’re quite the barren desert that you think you are. I’m asking you to trust me, but if you feel at any point that it’s too intense, I want you to feel free to awaken yourself.”

“Okay,” she said hopefully.

I reached over her and reclined her bucket seat to about a 45-degree angle. She put her glasses on the dash and rearranged herself. “Gretchen, deeply relaxed,” I said. I hadn’t hypnotized her since that session in my office. She slipped into a trance readily and gave every sign of being in deep hypnosis as I repeated the trigger and offered relaxing imagery.

“Imagine yourself in a place very much like this beautiful park. It’s a warm day, just before sunset, and you’re utterly alone, very peaceful. You’re sitting on a bench with your eyes closed; you feel that the park is private; no one can bother or disturb you here. But soon you feel an approaching presence. It’s a male presence, and it’s not unwelcome. You know that he’s approaching you, and you like that. You’re curious about him, but still you rest with your eyes closed.

“You feel and hear his weight as he sits on the bench next to you. Not too close; a polite distance, but close enough for you to catch a pleasant man scent.”

I watched her nostrils flare a little as she sat there, and I saw her nipples tighten against her blouse.

“He seems content to just sit there and be with you, and you feel like you’re sending him vibrations of welcoming, even though your eyes are closed and you haven’t moved. His presence is comfortable and pleasant. You feel him stir; you feel the warmth of his hand approaching your hand. He takes your hand lightly in his, supporting it, lifting it slightly. He turns it over and traces his fingers lightly over yours. It’s a very pleasant touch.”

Her hand twitched and turned slightly.

“Slowly, he lifts your hand to his lips. He brushes his lips over the back of your hand, then turns it, and kisses each fingertip in turn.”

Her hand rose slowly towards me and turned. I resisted the near-overwhelming temptation to take it and kiss it.

“He sets your hand down gently and continues to hold it, content just to be with you, here and now.”

Her hand sank back to her side.

“You feel safe and comfortable with him. You lean against him; he reaches up and strokes your face gently. His thumb brushes your lips, and the feeling is like electricity inside you.”

Gretchen licked her lips and they remained parted. She was breathing faster, her neck and cheeks were flushed, and her nipples were pressing firmly against her blouse.

“His hand moves to your neck, and he kisses you softly. His other arm slips around you, your hands slide up his arms to his shoulders. It feels so right to be in his arms, so good to be holding him. Everything about him is new, different, and the effect is intoxicating. You kiss him back, telling him without words how strongly he has affected you, how the passions are rising within you, how much you want him.”

Her eyes were moving under her closed lids, her breathing had become harder and faster, her lips twitched, and her arms half-raised from her elbows, her hands curled as if around shoulders. The flush at her throat was pronounced. She was completely into the fantasy. I silently congratulated myself; I was really good at these impromptu story-suggestions. But I didn’t know how to end it. I knew I was arousing her, and I was turned on too. My heart was pounding and my erection was demanding release. I could hear the sex-raggedness in my own voice. Hell, if this was a seduction, so be it. I changed my tack a little.

“And as you bask in his warm embrace, part of you wonders how this could be. Could any stranger reach you so deeply, excite you so much? You begin to wonder if this marvelous man is someone from your life, someone that you know, but never thought of in this context. You want to know, you need to know. As your eyes remain closed here, you open your eyes in this wonderful dream and his face comes into focus.”

She gave a small gasp and a small, trance-softened smile formed at the edges of her mouth. I wanted very badly to kiss her.

“Do you know who it is?”

She found her voice, ragged like my own. “Yes.”

Holding my breath, “Who is it?”

“Matthew.”

I felt a wave of disappointment. Unless she knew someone else by that name, it had to be Marketing Matt, as we called him, one of our engineers assigned to marketing. He was a quiet guy, nice. An interesting fellow to talk to once you got him going. I was also struck by what a good fit they’d be for one another. He was single, on the rebound from his last girlfriend, who ran off with a drummer.

“Marketing Matt?” I blurted.

“Yes,” she sighed.

I had to figure out how to bring her fantasy to a smooth conclusion. She was still dreaming, still enjoying his imagined attentions. I let her drift for a minute or two as I collected my thoughts.

“Gretchen,” as I spoke her name, her arms dropped back to her lap. “You’ve been having, a wonderful dream, and as you can tell, you’re not frigid; you can feel the way your body has responded. You have the capacity to love and respond deeply to the right man. But whether Matthew is that person or not, no one can say. He may be a placeholder, a safe person to fantasize about, or he may be the one. Only time will tell. But as you begin to awaken now, as you come up through the depths, you leave the possibility open. You won’t find yourself fixated on Matthew or any other man, but you know now that you will be able to love the right one with all your heart… mind and body.”

Tears were welling under her eyelids as I counted her awake. She came into my arms with big, boo-hooing sobs. I felt like heel for having tried, in my open-ended way, to mindfuck her. I pulled out my handkerchief and she repaired her smeared eye makeup. Another handkerchief that my wife would never see in the laundry.

She pressed her face hard against my neck and said, “Thank you, thank you so much. You gave me exactly what I wanted. The old me is in there, I’m still alive.”

She sobbed some more. I kissed her cheek. She pulled back quickly, her hands on my shoulders, holding me at bay across the bucket seats. She read my expression with her tear-flecked green eyes and took my face in both her hands.

“Oh Lucky,” she said, “I’m so sorry it wasn’t you.”

I must have looked incredulous, because she began laughing through her tears. She was heartbreakingly beautiful.

“Part of me wanted it to be you. In my dream—that awesome dream!—I thought I saw you when I opened my eyes. But it was Matthew’s face that came into focus.”

Still holding my face, she pulled me close and kissed me. Not too hard, not too softly, but just right.

“Words can’t express how grateful I am,” she said as she pulled back. “I hope that’s enough.”

“Jeez, I feel like crying, myself,” I said.

“You’d better take me home now, I know things aren’t great between you and Claire, but it would be way too complicated….” She let the thought hang, and we completed the short trip in silence.