The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I must have really been hypnotized, she thought, as he led her lead-headed self through the convention, across the street, and into an unfamiliar building. Your hotel room, she realized, and doubly realized that she hadn’t understood their agreement. It should have been obvious, they did meet up because of an EMC forum. While she wondered, Monk remained as bizarrely confident as he’d become when he began playing the game. He led her by the waist through the halls. Myla wondered why they weren’t getting more looks—it felt like she was a stumbling drunk, and that probably wouldn’t look good next to a guy like this, with the way he was acting. But she must have looked much better than she’d felt, and no alarm bells were raised. Oh dammit, Myla thought. This was happening.

But she was, ultimately, an EMC fetishist. And it wasn’t like the guy was repulsive to her. Incredibly anger-ing, maybe, but definitely as far away from repulsive for Myla as it got. So she was prevented from haunting the place by the arousal she felt, it tethered her mind to her body. It was funny, she always thought that if this happened in real life then the sub would never get to remember or experience what it was like to be hypnotized. But here she was, mildly conscious, and very aroused. Just like a wet dream. She felt like a giggling teenager with him holding her so close, by the waist.

They went through the halls and came to his hotel room, and he laid her out on the bed like Sleeping Beauty. He pulled up a chair by her and sat down. “Myla. Can you hear me?” he said, in a weirdly suave voice. She felt a faint “yes” bubble up from her throat.

“Good. I want to ask you some questions,” he said, and she knew that she would answer them truthfully, be unable to fight it, whatever he asked. She realized this and it scared her, but she said nothing. He hadn’t asked her anything: she couldn’t say a word.

“But first, it’s only fair if I let you ask your questions, which I’m sure you have. Ask as many as you like.”

Lying helpless and aroused on the bed, she kind of wished he’d just get on top of her and they could fuck like rabbits then and there. But he was right, she did have questions, and there was still a part of her that was aware that there was a morning after. She’d have regrets if she didn’t get the answers. Her mouth opened and words spilled out like from a statue.

“Who were you on the forum?”

He adjusted himself on the seat, like he was about to tell his life story and was getting comfortable. “You know who I was. I’m ‘TicToc’. I saw you look it up after I told you. But I guess I can see where your confusion comes from. No, I was never active in the forum. But I am a friend of the administrator’s. He’s my roommate. Remember when the forum was being hacked every three days? Your administrator couldn’t deal with it, so he got me to help out a little. Ever since then, I’ve stuck around, making improvements to the site. I hid myself and my admin privileges from the rest of the website. I was never much of a writer, I didn’t see the point of joining the community.“

I wasn’t much of a writer either. But you were a fetishist, Myla thought. What a coincidence, the closet case hypno-guy gets the same room as the MC forum admin. She knew the admin, and it was unbelievable that Rick would share a dorm with a guy like this.

“Why were you so good at the game?”

“I designed it.” A twitch in his smile. That’s all that he said, and in what he didn’t say Myla was furious to think that he’d slipped some bugs in there so he could cheat at it.

“What does Tick-Tock mean?”

He really liked this question, and Myla got the idea that he only let her ask questions because he wanted to do the supervillian gloating thing. “It’s not what you think. Of course, it’s a good repeating thing, a good hypnotizing”—she loved that word—“rhythm, but that’s not why I chose it for my name. It’s a countdown, you see. Because when you put a woman and a man together in the same story, it’s only a matter of time before she relents. It’s only a matter of time before she falls.” She heard a bizarre distortion of a weird law of movie physics that she’d once read a feminist criticism of. There always has to be a girl to chase after, and the hero always gets the girl, no matter how fucked up or inexplicable their chemistry. It never occurred to her that a boy would look at that as evil, let alone fetishize that evil.

“Are you evil?”

He was surprised and laughed at that one, as seriously as the question had felt. Oddly enough, it definitely seemed to increase the dent in his pants, Myla noticed. “I’ll tell you this, pet. I won this game, and I’m certainly going to enjoy it. Now I’ll ask my questions.

“First. You’re turned on, right?” he said. Myla thought, ‘are you feeling like a bitch in heat right now?’. “Yes”, she moaned.

“Second. Is there any reason you wouldn’t be okay with this? With what’s happening?” he asked, and the words came out with a sincerity that surprised her, considering his answer to her last question.

“I wouldn’t be okay with this if you were cheating on someone. And I wouldn’t be okay with this if you started hanging off of me like a fucking puppy dog afterwards.” And she couldn’t say anything more. Couldn’t think of anything more, actually. She was surprised to hear that last one come out of her mouth, and she hoped that that wouldn’t make him change his mind about ravishing her. But he only smiled, and replied “I am not seeing anyone, and I’ll do my best on the latter.” Snake, not puppy dog, Myla reminded herself.

“Third. That means you aren’t seeing anyone either, right?”

“Yes.” What she wanted to add—that she’d had two girlfriends before this, never a guy, not since high school—the words just couldn’t come out of her mouth.

“Good. Now, I want you to get ready. I left some clothes for you in the bathroom, and I want to see you in them when I return. Begin when I leave.” And with that he got up and left, and the moment the door shut, Myla moved automatically.

She went to the bathroom and cleaned herself. She wondered how the hell he got ahold of all this stuff as she put on the corset, stockings, garterbelt, and high heels. Wow. She was going to fuck in heels. Who fucks in heels? She did, apparently. She was going to.

She stumbled blankly across the room in the high heels, and she thought of taking the damn things off, she was so clumsy in them. But he had told her that he wanted to see her in the clothes he’d set for her when he came back. So when she crouched down to take them off, it was like the muscles in her arms and wrists had shut off. She tried to get back up, but in some sort of punishment for going off the path that was set for her, she couldn’t even stand to get back on the bed.

So when Monk came back from the washroom at the end of the hall, he must have been surprised to see his lovely catch, dressed up slutty like he’d wanted, a helpless weeping mess on the floor, the mascara he’d put out for her dripping down her cheeks.

He picked her up in his arms with a little effort, and with a heave she was back on the bed, and his weight on top of her. He was so freaking tall, she forgot. He looked again at her, she felt him smooth back her hair, and he said, “Christ, you’re beautiful.” And they kissed.

Thankfully, Myla was able to respond, kiss back, and she did. She still couldn’t move her arms, they felt heavy, powerless—they might as well have been tied around her back. She could feel her cunt throbbing with him so close.

He lifted her up from the back as they kissed, and he propped up against the wall. She moaned needily as he scooted to the edge of the bed to undress. There was a moment, when she heard “Help me”, and suddenly her arms came alive again, she scooted over to where he was sitting and helped him get his shirt off, caressing his arms and chest. He scuttled around with his feet to slip off his socks, then paused.

“Help me with this.” And he guided her hands towards his zipper, and she pulled it down, and then after shimmying down his pants a bit, he guided them around his cock.

It was already standing up pretty good, Myla noticed, and she was horrified at the thought that her fantasy was going to be cut off before she got her own orgasm. But her hands went working anyways, her arms wrapped around his back, cupping his balls, caressing his shaft—

“Hold on. Not too much.” he panted, and she could have giggled, or let out a sigh of relief. His fantasy didn’t end here, either. “The more you touch me, the more you become excited...but don’t make me come too soon.” He guided her with his words to get just the right threshold of excitement. But it wasn’t enough to get her off. Not by a long shot.

“That’s good”, he said suddenly, and he stood up and turned around.

He stood up at a ridiculous six feet to her five-five, hanging submissively off the edge of the bed. She wondered what he was planning to do next...with the heavy cloud of trance and arousal over her mind, she was excited. So what did he say next?

“Now, sleep”.

And she collapsed in a pile.

Before she regained consciousness, she was aware of being laid down again, by warm hands that caressed her face and neck. She felt her legs being spread apart, and held at the ankles, briefly. Her arms laid at her sides, she was too heavy to lift them. She suddenly remembered a game she’d played as a kid with her friends—one would lie down on the ground in the centre, while they pretended to stuff the kid’s limbs with feathers. Light as a feather, light as a feather, she really believed she could levitate and fly. But the other way it was played was the filled-with-rocks game (featuring a cartoonish yet macabre surgeon, played by one of her friends or herself), and the dizzy heaviness she’d felt afterwards was the same as she felt now.

The figure between her legs—which she recognized as the guy who’d somehow seduced her—kissed his way up her legs until he’d approached where she’d needed stimulation for so long. He was very good, very slow, very deliberate. If she had control of her mouth she’d name him an honorary lesbian, for the kind of head he was giving now. He took a damn long time to get from her inner thigh to her vulva, but the longer he put it off the more excited she got. Little moans started bubbling up, and started turning into big ones. I’m not normally anywhere near this loud, she thought, and it suddenly dawned on her that there was a reason he’d put her to sleep. Shit, what furniture had he rearranged in her head to suit his fantasy? Among other things, she realized that suddenly the oral that was usually just what she needed to drive her to orgasm was no longer enough. She needed his cock. She craned her neck to see he was wearing a condom, so it had to be soon. It had to be soon.

“Master”, she was heaving, she realized. “I need you. I need your—ah!”

She was bucking against his face. She hadn’t realized how deep her arousal ran until he started fucking around with it, so to speak. She gave out rollicking moans as he stood up, hand between her thighs. She squirmed as he leaned up to kiss her, and she responded. He released her for a moment. “What do you want?”

“You.” breathless, without hesitation.

“Tell me what you want. Tell me exactly what you want.”

“I want you to ride me like the freaking beautiful bastard you are.“

He fingered her cunt thoughtfully.

“That’s nice...but I’m sure there’s a better way you could phrase that...”

She coiled around, the teasing getting to be agony.

“Stick me. M—Make me feel alive, beautiful. Make me yours. Give me your cock. Your beautiful cock. Let me make us both happy. Let me- dammit, please, please, p-please, master!”

And she couldn’t tell what, but he must have been satisfied by something she’d said because he motioned for her to come hither, and suddenly she was flying towards him.

They kissed as he leaned against the bed and he groped her and she mounted him in absolute ecstasy.

They moved together, and maybe for his cock it was too much, too soon. But he held out right up until she did, and they came together. Panting, she relaxed from on top of him, and afterwards they laid there for a while, holding each other like real lovers.