The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Sunrise in San Francisco—a view that I’d seen in real life, taken from the Grand Hyatt hotel—was showing in the fake window of the hotel room. I had requested that real-time scenes be played, so that I could have some “temporal context” while increasing my control over Debbie, although I would have preferred that they granted my other request instead, to stop putting whatever it was in my food that allowed me to get hard at a moment’s notice. Since they hadn’t quit spiking my food, I hadn’t quit spiking Debbie. After dinner blowjob, early morning screw, post-lunch doggie-style, pre-dinner roll... it was difficult to remember that I was there to do a job because of the side benefits.

I managed to spend most of the first day in the “hotel” training Debbie to respond to the magic phrase without the crystal, but the scientists and their grunts interrupted us three times to take her to a lab somewhere, returning her each time after about an hour or so. In spite of the external and internal interruptions, I no longer needed the crystal by the next morning. Just the magic phrase would send her into trance. However, using the crystal with the magic phrase always seemed to send her deeper than just the magic phrase alone.

It was still less than my—overseer (and I, in my more honest moments)—wanted. Although I had been successful at putting a lock on her mindless obedience, I was still unable to put her into a state where she would absorb specific commands to be executed post-hypnotically without being consciously aware of them. Debbie was either entranced and obedient, or conscious and unresponsive. I also found out that my lock was easily picked the following afternoon. I had started trying to lessen the impact of the crystal but they came and got her for one of her examinations before I had a chance to make much, if any, progress. When they returned her from the examination, it was evident that at least one of the geeks in the white coats had their way with her: they hadn’t bothered to clean her up afterwards. I mentioned it to my “host” at dinner that night.

“My apologies, Mr. Grant,” Mr. Scary said. Debbie was not eating with us as usual, undergoing her evening examination. “I’ll try to enforce our policies... but... the scientists’ and their specific talents aren’t as easily replaced as some others.”

I instantly lost my appetite. Why did he always have to bring that up? It was a great way to ruin a very nicely done dinner featuring Pacific Snapper and a very crisp, California Reserve Chardonnay, even if it was his idea to put the room in “locational context.”

“It would seem however,” he resumed after a cultured sip of his wine, “that you do not yet have exclusive control over her.” I acknowledged that, but pointed out that I’d only been working at this for two days, and that that they probably wouldn’t have gotten this far with her in this amount of time. “Touché, Mr. Grant,” he nodded. “However, does the sexual—component—have to occupy so much of the training?”

“Well, whatever you’re putting in my food isn’t helping that,” I snapped. “Since that’s what I have to deal with, I think I’ve found a way to turn it to your advantage.” My dinner companion waited, not quite able to hide his interest. “Given that there’s a lot of connections to the brain from that area, conditioning her with that as well as everything else may make it more... indelible.” As soon as I said it, I couldn’t believe that I’d actually had the thought to express it. Guilt kept me from regaining my appetite.

He nodded once again. “Brainwashing 101. I seem to have underestimated you, Mr. Grant. There could be a career here for you.”

“No thanks,” I quickly replied. “Besides, I’m a sucker for the— simplest—of temptations.”

He smiled thinly. “Yes. Well, there is that.”

Debbie was returned to me as hypnotically/mind controlled unconscious as she had been when she left. “Wake up, sleepyhead,” I whispered. She blinked sleepily and stirred, a small, vacant smile on her face. I used the crystal this time. “Crystal sleep, Debbie, eyes open, mind completely open, asleep and completely obedient. Who am I?”

“My master.” I had drilled that into her mind over the past two days, so the confidence in the response wasn’t surprising.

“Have you been looking at a crystal and listening to another voice?”

“Must not... remember... anything,” she blankly said.

That was interesting. “I am your master, and only I control your mind and your thoughts and your memories. No one else can hide them, Debbie. Do you understand?” If the things I had been doing to her mind had any effect, she would be able to remember events that others had tried to hide at my command.

“Yes... master.”

The way she said it made my cock surge. I shouldn’t have told him about the sexual conditioning, I thought. I’m going to be like this all week. I repeated my earlier question with a little more urgency. “Have you been looking at a crystal and listening to another voice?”

“Yes, master.” They’d tried, but at least I’d managed to bring Debbie to the point where she answered to me as her ultimate authority, if not her only one. That last point was important to the overall goal, however, and I still wasn’t quite sure how to get there.

“Now, tell me about the last time you were asleep.” She proceeded to tell me about her earlier examination, which, I was not surprised to find out, included a couple of blowjobs and one fuck, along with a command to forget everything. Idiotic amateurs. I leaned close to her and whispered in her ear, hoping that the cameras and microphones would not pick up what was being said.

“Quite resourceful, aren’t we, Mr. Grant,” Mr. Scary said as I stood in front of him in another all-white room.

I didn’t even bother to feign innocence. “You have your rules, I have my own methods of... dissuasion.”

I could swear that he cracked a smile of amusement for just an instant. “Yes, yes, I suppose you do,” he replied. “Very creative. I made sure that no one else was aware of your... commands.” Damn you and your sensitive microphones, you son-of-a-bitch! This whole thing is just one gigantic experiment to you!

Showing only the slightest pause to note my reaction, he clinically continued, “She didn’t do any permanent damage to the unlucky fellows, just some minor, but painful, wounds in the most sensitive of places. I was impressed how you got her to tell you what has been happening, because they were positive that they had covered their tracks. I was especially impressed when she didn’t respond to the countermand order in the lab after the first bite.” He paused, longer this time, and radiated disappointment. “Unfortunately, it still appears far too easy to reprogram her. She still responds to authoritative command, even when she’s not... hypnotized.”

“It’s going to take a lot more time to break that than you have to keep us here. It’ll be a while before I can turn her loose in her natural state,” I said, using my “consultant” tone-of-voice. My continued existence rested on him believing that I could help him achieve his goals. “Right now, she’s more or less my slave, and that’s all I’ve been able to accomplish since we’ve been here. But I couldn’t keep her that way, even if I wanted to. She has a life, and so do I.”

“You have to make her act normally when awake,” he rejoined, correctly picking up my train of thought. “Can this be accomplished, Mr. Grant?” I shrugged. “You have some of the answers we need, but not all of them. Which, I will admit, is more than we had before you signed onto this little—project of ours.” He sat back in his chair. “Very well, Mr. Grant. We will keep the two of you here at this facility as per our original agreement, and after that, we will be in touch to check your—progress.”

Debbie was asleep on the bed when I came back, and I could swear that a wolfish smile was on her face. The lab boys’ fun had definitely come to an end, but it was bothersome that she could still be commanded outside of her trance-like state. I proved it to myself by getting her to give me another hot, incredibly nasty blowjob (which she was VERY good at) just by insisting on it with a stern tone of voice. I needed to do something about that. She was eventually going to have to be in control of herself most of the time, except when I was giving her instructions.

So how much of Debbie was left? What did she remember about her life? About me? Within seconds, she was staring blankly into the crystal. “Debbie, your master commands you to tell me what you think of Ray Grant, your neighbor.”

“Nice guy... Kinda good-looking... sexy. Unfortunately, he’s not interested in me. Thinks I’m too fat,” she accurately said. Could she really tell that her size was the main issue to me? I asked her why she thought that. “Eyes,” she answered. “Not how he looks, but where. He thinks I’m kinda cute, though. I can see it when he looks at my face.” This wasn’t fair. Women really did know what you were thinking when you looked at them.

“Now gaze deeper into the crystal, Debbie. Even more mindless, more obedient to your master. You will tell me all about yourself. About what you remember and who you are. You must tell me everything you can remember.” Her flat, “Yes, master,” and fascinated gaze had its usual effect on my libido, but I pushed the thought out of my head. I didn’t have all the time in the world. Debbie needed to be less of a mindless slave, and more a selectively programmable version of herself than she was. It was time for a different tack, and step one was seeing how much of her life was still somewhere in her head.

The door opened quickly, revealing Mr. Scary and two goons in dark suits. “There’s no need for that, Mr. Grant. She remembers everything in excellent detail, up to her arrival at work. We’ve already tested that.” I crossed my arms in annoyance, wondering aloud why I hadn’t been told. “When it comes to events closer to the— accident—she seems to remember nothing from about ten minutes prior to the accident. It appears that her memories fade exponentially from that ten-minute point to about an hour previous. She knows that she is Deborah Stafford, that she lives in apartment 2G of 377 Grantland Way, and even that you are Ray Grant, of apartment 2J. Now, would you mind telling me why you’re trying to make these memories more potent than they are? If she were ever to become aware of this, both you and she would have to be... terminated. Is that clear?”

Gulp. It took me a minute to stop thinking about the direct threat on my life, so I could compose myself enough to answer him. “It seems to me that whatever has affected her, we need to override it without finding an antidote, and without having to command her all the time.” I took a deep breath. “The only thing I can think of, quite literally, is to program her to be herself. Exactly how she used to be, except when she is being given specific programming. She’s always programmable now, either in her natural state, or under hypnosis. We have to close that open door.”

Mr. Scary blinked, something I’d learned meant that I had surprised him and brought up a good point. I still held my breath, awaiting the result of his consideration. If Debbie couldn’t be programmed to have a normal amount of willpower, she and I were as good as dead. An awful lot hinged on his next words. “Perhaps,” he began, carefully considering his next words, “there is validity to your concept.”

Seeing that I had an opening, I pounced. “Are you positive that she doesn’t remember anything about her—accident?” He pulled out a cell phone and spoke to what I assumed was one of the scientists who had been examining her, returning an affirmative answer. “I still need to find out for sure. If she does remember any of this, I’ll bury it so deeply that no one can get to it.”

“No one except—you,” he clinically noted, leaving all of the implications unsaid. “You may proceed, Mr. Grant. I believe that you are fully aware of the ramifications of this tack. The consequences of failure will not be pleasant. However, I also believe as you do, that you have no choice in this. You are too involved at this point for us to leave you and Miss Stafford as you originally were. Good luck, and remember, we are monitoring all of the communication between you and Miss Stafford.” The door closed after he left.

I had three-and-a-half days to turn Debbie back into herself before we were both killed.

I tried to unlock her memories of the accident, but had no more luck than the scientists had. She was completely unaware of what had happened to her shortly after she had arrived at work that day, and before her awakening. She definitely remembered the sex she had been commanded to have—the two guys who had been blown away hadn’t been the first to take advantage of Debbie’s state. She had been fucked six times, given seven blowjobs, she had lost track of how many hand jobs, and she had loved every second of it! They had literally turned her into a sex-crazed slut who couldn’t get enough—at least until Mr. Scary had put a stop to it.

I questioned her in depth about her commands, her memories of the events, and tried to discern any real emotions from the ones that had been imposed. From deep within her hypnotic state, she happily described how they had used her, and how hot she had been when she was a “sex-crazed cum slut who will fuck or suck anyone that asks.” As her master, nothing was hidden from me. I carefully interrogated her, trying to determine how active Debbie’s mind had been during the sex acts. After a couple of hours of it, it was clear that there was no self-direction involved in her sexual escapades. Her conscious actions had been initiated and directed by the somewhat unimaginative command she’d been given. Her subconscious body memory, on the other hand, was a different matter. She continued to show physical signs of arousal, her body moved suggestively as she spoke, and it was kind of... exciting to me. Combined with her surprising skill at head, and how she moved when we fucked, I was beginning to see my chubby next-door neighbor in a new light.

Still... “Debbie, you are no longer a sex-crazed cum slut. Your body may respond as it normally does to sex, and sexual stimuli, and sexual thoughts...but your mind is no longer hostage to your body, and you do not get hot for just any man who tells you to. You will not remember being a sex-crazed cum slut. You will not remember what you have done under your master’s command. Any time you reach for those memories, you will find nothing but dreams. Dreams that you cannot remember. The more you try to remember those dreams, the more they will fade until you will find that you can’t remember having those dreams. Your sexual thoughts are the same as they always have been. Do you understand?”

“Yes, master. I understand.” I was talking about sex, and she was aroused, and she was saying that with the perfect blank tone of voice, and the drugs made my cock feel like a piece of steel rebar... I needed a cold shower. The realization that the clock was running made it easier to get back on track. After making sure that none of her earlier, temporary masters had left any sexual landmines behind, I resumed my patient reassembly of her memories.

Dinner with Mr. Scary was as close to cordial as it ever had been. “My apologies for the abuse she has suffered, although I wish you hadn’t erased those memories quite yet, Mr. Grant. Those involved deserve disciplinary action of some type, even if it is after the fact.. Had I known that it was this widespread, I would have put a stop to it sooner than I did, before your involvement.”

Lurch went the stomach. A Beef Wellington that had me salivating might as well be an overcooked McDonald’s cheeseburger now. I swallowed back the bile and managed, “Well, it was getting in the way of reprogramming her. Having her not only mentally programmed to have sex at the drop of a command, but to enjoy it no matter what the reality of the experience is... well, it’s a powerful reward for obedience. And a strong temptation. I’m sure you noticed her physical response in the absence of physical stimuli. I had to get rid of those memories it as soon as possible so I can start to return her sex drive back to normal, and aligning that with her body memory.”

“I can see that our scientists aren’t as well versed in the psychological aspect of this as they need to be. I admit that we weren’t prepared for anything like this, which is why we decided to keep you on as a—contractor.” He hesitated a moment. “If you remove her sexual drive, won’t that... defeat your interests? What other incentive would you have to continue in this experiment?”

“I like living,” I bluntly answered. “Wherever Debbie is, you can rest assured that I won’t be too far away. Besides, you want her to be programmable by one specific person. Right now, I have the advantage in that she sees me as her ultimate authority. Maybe that’s...” A sudden realization dawned on me. “I have one request.” Mr. Scary held out his hand. “If she isn’t perfect by the end of the week, would you let us go? I think I can continue her training in her apartment. I hate having the feeling that there’s a timer on my life, especially when I don’t have her for at least three hours every day.”

“No,” he flatly stated. “But you’ve had an idea of how to continue.” Even if I had wanted to, I couldn’t have held back the flash of excitement that Mr. Scary was noting. “I can, however, give you an additional two days, and re-evaluate based solely on my judgment of any progress you’ve made.”

That was as good as it was going to get. “Fair enough. Can I have her the whole time?” He said that the scientists needed to run physical tests in a variety of conditions, but he would see if they could work with her twice daily instead of three times. He asked where I was going with this. “OK, please bear with me for a bit; I’m going to use a computer metaphor for this.”

“Let’s assume that the thought processes that make Debbie who she is work like an operating system on a computer. What has happened is that you have installed Debbie, version two. Version two doesn’t run any of the programs we use often, but there’s one very important program that only runs under version two. The solution is to reinstall Debbie version one alongside of version two, in a dual-boot situation. Most of the time, she will be running under version one, but if we need that special program, we can shut version one down, and reboot her with version two until we’re finished with that special program. The result of that special program initiates a timer- or condition-based task that, since it’s in the same data access area, version one can execute it, and its output may affect the way that other version one programs operate.”

Mr. Scary had started nodding constantly as I spoke, encouraging me. “Only one person has the administrator rights to be able to shut down and reboot her, let alone sign into Debbie version two and execute any commands. That would be me.” Time to close the presentation. “This would accomplish what you want, even though it’s not quite the solution you were thinking of. It’s not that she’s going to be normal until she’s triggered to receive post-hypnotic commands. It’s that she will act completely normal in one gigantic post-hypnotic command, and only a specific person, using a specific, secure trigger, can alter that programming.”

He sat back in his chair, considering everything I’d said. “Very impressive, Mr. Grant,” he admitted. “That’s an interesting way of conceptualizing a solution, and a more impressive way of presenting it, especially with so much at stake. I understand why Meridian holds you in such high regard. Are you sure that I couldn’t interest you in—full-time—employment with us?”

“I’m sure the pay and the benefits are better than what I get, but... it’s way too much cloak-and-dagger for me,” I immediately replied. “I’m hoping that at some point you will leave us alone and just let us get on with our lives. I know that I’m going to be looking over my shoulder and it’s going to give me an ulcer until you do.”

“Yes, I thought that might be your reaction,” he dryly said. “We will leave you alone as soon as... the experiment has run its course, Mr. Grant. No sooner.” Mr. Scary stood. “I realize that you do not have an idea of when this... dual-boot system can be made fully operational. We just may have to allow for that.” With that, he left the room, and a shred of hope that Debbie and I might just come out of this place alive.