The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Rest of Shayna

Shayna was agitated, really worked up about something. She wasn’t concentrating; she was making simple mistakes. I called her into my office and asked her what was wrong.

“I can’t tell you,” she said. “I just have a big decision to make.”

“About Cal?”

She looked at me as though I was simple. “Cal… no, it’s not Cal.”

“He’s history, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, I guess he is,” she sighed. “What does it mean when you feel like everything you do is wrong, that you don’t have any good choices?”

“If I understand you right, it means that whatever course of action you choose has some downsides, and you don’t want to have to hurt anyone.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s close enough to the mark.”

“Is it something I could help with?” I asked. She knew what I meant. She had a pretty good idea from Gretchen of how I helped her over her rough patch.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I think it’s going to just work itself out.”

“Does it involve Rick?”

She looked surprised and guilty. She was guileless, hopeless at disguising her emotions.

“Why would you think that?” she asked guardedly.

“Um, because he means more to you than that guy that you’re so inconveniently married to?”

She didn’t mind that kind of banter; she’d confessed her relationship with Rick at one of our pizza nights a couple of months ago and expressed her determination to divorce Cal.

The following Monday, Rick didn’t show up for work. His manager and the HR people still hadn’t been able to reach him by Wednesday, and it became my problem, too. Part of my bailiwick was security clearances, and Rick’s project involved both our government and that of an ally. I had to report to our liaison officer—there had been some evidence of either industrial or military espionage at our place earlier in the year, and there was the possibility, however remote, of foul play.

Shayna, however, was lighthearted, more than she’d been in a while, but she was avoiding me. I finally cornered her and asked, “Do you know where Rick is?”

She looked furtive, and said, “All I can tell you is that he’s okay.”

“Do you realize that his disappearance is about to become a national security matter?”

She looked aghast. “What? Why? What’s going to happen to him?”

“His project, Shayna. It’s highly restricted. The specs and tech documents are in that safe in the room next to my office. You know that.”

“But… oh, I knew this would happen!” She looked like she was going to cry.

“Look, just explain it to me, and we’ll get it sorted out. Once the military gets involved, there’s going to be hell to pay.”

“But I can’t! I promised!”

“Can you have him phone me or his boss? I’m sure we can clear it up.”

“He won’t be calling until tonight. I can’t reach him. He’s driving cross-country.”

She finally broke down and explained that he had accepted a job with one of our competitors. He had a confidentiality clause and a noncompetition clause in his contract, and he thought, aided by some bad advice from his new employer, that the only way out of the contract was to sneak out and just show up at the new place as a fait accompli.

I shook my head and explained that stuff like this happens all the time, that the only way to enforce the noncompete would be if we paid him not to work there for a period of time. No paycheck, no contract. The nondisclosure portion, however, was an issue for our lawyers, theirs, and the case officer on his project. I told her that he didn’t have to sneak out of town, that there was no such thing as indentured servitude—except in really bad job markets.

She laughed in relief. I asked her to explain all that to him when he called.

“So what are you going to do?” I asked.

“I’m going with him.” Tee-hee.

“I wish you both the best, but I hope you won’t just disappear one day.”

“No, I’m not going until he gets a little settled. And I’ve got to do the legal stuff to end it with Cal before I go.”

She was obviously relieved to have the whole mess off her shoulders.

A couple of weeks later, she’d given her notice. Next Friday would be her last day. I had a big presentation to make first thing this coming Monday morning. The board of directors was coming in, and I wanted it to be perfect. I asked Shayna if she could come in on Sunday afternoon to help me put the packets together and set up the conference room. She didn’t mind; she had no weekend plans. Cal had wreaked some minor violence and moved out, and she didn’t have much to pack.

Most of the work was mindless, and we chatted. She was looking forward to her new life with Rick; prospects for a new job were good. She asked me a couple of pop-psychology questions, as always, in terms of herself.

“What does it mean when you can never decide what to order from the menu,” she asked. “Like when everybody else has ordered, and you just can’t make up your mind?”

I offered an interpretation about wanting things that we can’t have as I busied myself with the slide projector, making sure that none of the slides were upside down, backwards, or out of sequence. She excused herself to go to the ladies’ room. When she came back, she sat on the end of the conference table behind me, legs crossed at the ankle, swinging her legs. She’d have been cracking her gum if she’d remembered how.

“Hey Lucky,”

I turned around and took in her lopsided grin, her scoop-necked sweater, and little black miniskirt. She hunched her shoulders forward and swung her legs provocatively. She was braless under her sweater. Had she been that way before? Had I failed to notice or had she just removed it?

I watched her breasts shimmer slightly as she swung her legs.

She said, “What does it mean when you’re hypnotized, tee-hee, when you’re hypnotized and you feel like you want to screw?” Her eyes twinkled.

“I, uh, have you always felt that way?”

“Tee-hee. Yup, right from the first.”

She leaned back, moving her hands from the edge of the table and placed them behind her, pulling her shoulders back and showing her breasts plainly through the thin, knit top. They were nice, very shapely, with just the right amount of concave above and fullness below. Her nipples were hard. I had trouble re-establishing eye contact.

“Aren’t you going to hypnotize me, Lucky? I’d really like that.” She looked at me frankly. I felt weird, like she was hypnotizing me instead of the other way around. I tried to fill my mind with images of wholesome-looking girls with straight, shoulder-length hair and preppy little outfits. I failed. The voice telling me “no” was being drowned out by the primal roar in the room. All of my profound disinterest in her was belied by the throbbing in my pants.

“First, tell me: Did you remove your bra just now?”

She tossed her head back in amused defiance and said, “I’ll never tell.”

I took a step towards her. “I think you will.”

She looked surprised as I placed my fingers on her temples, as though I were doing a Vulcan mind meld. “Look deeply into my eyes,” I said, not quite believing that I was saying it.

Her eyes went wide and her I’ve-got-the-upper-hand smile faded.

“That’s right, look deeply into my eyes. You cannot look away. And as you look into my eyes, you must answer all of my questions truthfully and completely.” I paused as she fell into a light trance. “Did you remove your bra just now?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“To make myself sexy for you.”

“Did you plan this before you came here today?”

“No.”

“Tell me what went through your mind.”

“While you were working on the slides. I thought, ‘He’s never going to hypnotize me again.’ And it made me sad.”

“Did it really turn you on the first time I hypnotized you?”

“Yes.”

“Explain how you felt.”

“I realized, wow, he could make me do anything he wants. And that made me hot down there.” Her eyes tried to look down, but they remained fixed on mine.

“And the other times I hypnotized you?”

“Stronger each time.”

“You hid it well.”

“I’m really not your type.”

“….”

She’d caught me flatfooted, but continued to stare into my eyes without visible emotion.

“Does it feel like you want to, um, screw while you’re hypnotized, or afterwards?”

“While I’m hypnotized.”

“Why?”

“’Cause I don’t want to think about anything else.”

I dropped my hands from her temples and averted my gaze. She blinked a couple of times and said crossly, “Dammit, doesn’t a girl get to have any secrets?” She folded her arms petulantly across her chest, hiding her treasures.

“Shayna, you know that this is something that’s happening in your mind, and that I don’t really have any power over you?”

“So you’ve told me. ‘All hypnosis is self-hypnosis,’” she intoned, mocking my baritone voice. “But does it really matter?”

“I just….”

She held up her hand for silence. “There’s one more thing on the menu that I want. I’ve made up my mind.”

I smiled. I’d never heard her use a metaphor before.

I stepped towards her again and picked up her right arm. As I bent it towards her face, she understood what I was doing, and gave me a look that was grateful, amused and sexy, all at once.

“Your eyes are focused on the palm of your hand,” I said. “Locked onto the palm of your hand, and your arm is getting heavier and heavier, sinking down towards your lap. As your eyes follow it down, you’re getting sleepier and sleepier, falling into a deep, deep sleep.”

Her eyes closed quickly as her hand fell into her lap. Her head was down, and she was slumped forward. With a half-dozen previous trances under her belt, she went deep quickly. She was putty in my hands, which was pretty much what I told her, and exactly what she wanted.

“Shayna, your body is mine to command. Any thought or feeling that I suggest to you will be absolutely real. Every sensation is under my control.”

I decided to play with her, in a way that I hadn’t with anyone since my first erotic hypnosis subject, my high school girlfriend Mitsy.

“Sit up straight,” I said. You can sit up easily while remaining deeply asleep.” I took her hands in mine and began rubbing her thumbs lightly. I told her that all of the sensitivity of her breasts had moved to her thumbs. She oh’ed and moaned faintly as I stroked her thumbs. I lifted one to my mouth and flicked it with my tongue. Her pleasure sounds got stronger. Her lips were parted and full, her pink tongue just visible. I kissed her lightly, teasing her lips with my tongue. Her lipstick was fruit-flavored. I should have known.

I took her left hand and extended her first and middle fingers. “These are your legs,” I said. “Rubbing the tips gives you a wonderful foot massage. This is you calf, and this is your thigh,” as I worked my way up. I massaged her fingertips for a while, then the area between the tip and the major joint, as though I was massaging her calves. I moved to her “inner thighs” and she rocked and twitched in response. I lifted her hand to my mouth and tongued between her fingers. Her pelvis rocked in response and she moaned appreciatively. Time to get serious.

“Every part of your body is ten times more sensitive than normal,” I said. “Every part of you is focused on pleasure; there is nothing but pure pleasure.”

I took her hands and placed them behind her on the table, so she was leaning back, her breasts in firm relief against her thin sweater. Her head lolled back as I slid my hands up, lifting her top. Her nipples were thick and muscular, dusty rose in color, with a tightly crinkled ring of flesh where the nipple burst up from her areola. I cupped her breasts, slid my palms lightly over the engorged nipples, rolled them between my thumbs and fingers, and finally bent down to take one in my mouth. It had that unique, bitter-sour taste of a woman in heat. She made a wordless sound and gasped again.

I kissed, licked, and nuzzled until she was in a frenzy, breathing hard, writhing, but still holding her position at the edge of the table, arms behind her, back arched.

“Shayna, have you ever had an orgasm from just having your breasts touched and kissed?”

“No,” she whispered.

“Well, you’re going to have one very soon. The sensations from your breasts will be like lightning bolts inside you, stronger and stronger, and soon they’ll overwhelm you, and you’ll have a beautiful, long orgasm.”

I lowered my head and took one nipple, flicking it hard and fast with my tongue. I squeezed and rolled the other one, and she began rocking and squirming, moaning and making wordless exclamations between gasps. It went on and on. When I said “long orgasm,” she took me literally; it must have gone on for three or four minutes.

After it subsided, I placed my hands on her knees. Her legs were smooth, with soft skin over firm muscles. I slid my hands up under her miniskirt, until my thumbs reached her panties, just to either side of her mound. I pressed in light circles in the vee where her legs joined her tummy, transmitting motion to her nether reaches. She gasped again; an involuntary shudder brought her head forward.

I ran my hands back down her thighs. I parted her legs slightly and ran my hands back up, thumbs deeper on the inner thigh, pressing in on the sensitive nerves there, and watched with satisfaction as a pre-orgasmic bolt hit her and she shuddered slightly. I stopped short of her nether lips and slid my hands back down again.

I put a hand behind her neck and another behind her shoulder blades and said, “Go deeper now, much deeper, as you lie back on the table. Your body is free to move however it needs to in order to maximize your pleasure and mine. There is nothing in your mind but passion and pleasure, nothing but searing heat and beautiful orgasms.”

I pulled her to the edge of the table, slipped her panties down, pushed up her skirt, and opened her legs. I spread her gently with my thumb, rubbing it up and down over her swollen clitoris. She shuddered at each stroke. I dropped my pants and entered her in one smooth stroke.

Her body came to life as if she’d been electrocuted. Her legs hooked around my thighs, pulling me into her, she pulled herself into a half-sitting position, arms around my waist, and she began humping like mad. She came almost immediately, then came again. I wasn’t prepared for the way her muscles were working me, contracting in waves as though she had a fist around my cock and she was milking it expertly. I’d never experienced anything like it. She was moving so fast and was so firm around me that I wasn’t going to last much longer.

I didn’t want it to end yet, so I put my fingers to her temples and said, “Shayna, relax completely. Let every muscle go limp and relaxed. You’re totally helpless, you can’t move, yet it’s incredibly exciting that I’m inside you. Every part of you is utterly focused on the feeling.”

She felt like a different woman now. Loose, warm, and wet, but none of the muscular contractions in response to my thrusts. I moved slowly and deliberately, almost all the way out of her, then buried to the hilt. I thumbed her clitoris, pressing it down against me as I slid into her. Her head lolled with each stroke, and she moaned. I felt like I was going to come soon, and I gave her control of her body again.

Her legs snapped around my thighs again, and she pulled herself against me. She contracted hard, pulling me into her. We were off on a wild ride, until we came together, she with a guttural moan, I with a shout, and she collapsed back onto the table.

I’d never experienced anything like that before, and only with one partner since. But other than newfound admiration for her amazing skills, I still felt nothing for her, which made me feel guilty, like I’d used her, even though she’d initiated it. I did, however, feel a moment of sympathy for Cal, who probably didn’t yet know what he’d lost.